Chapter 52
“…Do you think we couldn’t kill you right here and now? Do we look like real Holy Knights to you?”
“Oh, my mistake—are you not dogs but monkeys?”
Unable to hold back any longer, one of the squad leaders drew his sword.
“Iso! Stand down!”
Despite Daniel’s command, the man called Iso didn’t hesitate to swing his sword at Karl.
As Iso charged, Karl sidestepped effortlessly and swiftly closed the distance—then struck Iso’s jaw directly.
Crack!
With a chilling sound, Iso collapsed on the spot.
Karl hadn’t even drawn the sword at his waist.
‘What the hell is this…?’
Daniel, too, had heard the rumors about the so-called Knight of the Lighthouse.
They said he slew demons single-handedly, or took down dozens of knights on his own.
He had laughed off such fantastical tales as the work of storytellers fond of creating heroes.
But now, watching Karl with his own eyes, he began to think those rumors might not have been so exaggerated after all.
As Daniel swallowed hard, Kelvin—who still remembered being beaten by Karl in the past—watched Iso’s shattered jaw and realized how foolish and reckless he had been back then.
‘…He seems even stronger than before.’
He had already been formidable then, and now he was clearly even more powerful.
Even though Kelvin had grown stronger after being demoted to the 3rd Order and surviving among its beast-like ranks, he still couldn’t gauge Karl’s current level.
“Anyone else want to try?”
At Karl’s short remark, everyone flinched—but no one dared step forward.
“Calm yourself, Sir Karl.”
“I am calm.”
At his reply, a vein bulged briefly on Daniel’s forehead before subsiding.
“We are the 3rd Holy Knight Order.”
“Then stop pretending to be ignorant fools.”
He meant: you know the truth, and I do too—so stop spouting nonsense.
“Why are you provoking us like this? Are you trying to make us your enemy?”
“I’m trying to let you live as true Holy Knights.”
“…?”
They all looked puzzled.
“From what I hear, part of the reason you’re shunned is because of your background—but a bigger reason is that you can’t use the light that symbolizes a Holy Knight, right?”
“…Seems you’ve done your homework.”
“I’ll tell you one of the root causes behind what’s happening right now.”
Karl explained the situation regarding the Saintess and Del Maria.
“What you should be striving for isn’t the light that grants strength—but sincere faith in Essus, and the pride of being a Holy Knight.”
“….”
Come to think of it, they had never truly taken pride in being Holy Knights.
They had always been misfits and were treated as such, so they had no reason to take pride in it.
As they gradually gave up on those values one by one, what remained was the 3rd Order as it was now.
“A Free Knight, yet you speak more dreamily than the commander of the 1st Order.”
“If you declare, of your own free will, that you’ll move forward in faith—who could dare belittle such a noble ideal? I want to help create a Vatican where such sacred and noble resolve is no longer ignored.”
“…You speak pretty words.”
“Don’t forget—we’ve already eliminated Inquisitor Del Maria and captured the Saintess.”
Though his tone was cynical, internally, they were all shaken.
They had expected bribes.
They had even considered secret promises of promotion.
But what Karl laid on the table was far more serious than that.
“I’ll give you one day. I’ll wait—give me your answer once it’s decided.”
With that, Karl left the meeting room.
***
“Commander, his words sound nice, but it’s all just sophistry.”
“Do you truly think so?”
“….”
The squad leader who had spoken went silent. So did Daniel.
“Commander, may I say something?”
Georges was looking straight at Daniel.
The ever-composed man now had eyes burning with fervor.
“Go ahead.”
“Sir Karl is right. We’re a Holy Knight Order. No matter how we ended up here, our origin is as Holy Knights. And yet—what have we received for that? No one respects us. No one even sees us as knights. We ourselves have given up on being Holy Knights. Is this truly okay? Have you never felt ashamed? If all we cared about was wealth and fame, siding with Richelieu would’ve been the easy choice.”
Georges, who was always calm and composed, now spoke with passion.
His heart was ablaze.
Even those who had been ready to douse the moment with cynicism found themselves unable to speak. That fire in Georges spread to others in the room.
‘As much as I hate to admit it… damn, that was kind of cool.’
And Georges wasn’t the only one moved by Karl.
Even Kelvin, who had a bitter history with him, was caught up in the strange heat of the moment.
Though he had been disgraced, not long ago he had been considered a rising star—someone with powerful backers, even a potential future commander if he’d just tempered his attitude.
He had been spoiled by praise, but after hitting rock bottom and clawing his way back up, he’d changed.
The fact that he didn’t burst out in hatred at the mention of Karl’s name—but stayed quiet—in itself was proof.
For the first time, he wanted to ride behind someone.
He imagined Karl leading a charge, and himself riding behind him in the same unit.
‘That’d be… badass.’
Caught in that strange yearning, Kelvin realized he had stepped forward without even noticing.
“Commander, screw it. Let’s go for it.”
Everyone turned to look at him.
Given his past, they were surprised—wondering why he was saying this.
“Come on, isn’t it kind of cool? He’s telling us to reclaim our pride and become Holy Knights again. What man wouldn’t be inspired by that?”
Heads began to nod.
“You all saw that monster Karl earlier. No way we’ll lose with him leading the charge. All we have to do is run behind that crazy bastard.”
At Kelvin’s words, heads nodded again.
And so, that very day, the 3rd Order armed themselves and departed from their long-abandoned fortress.
Their destination was not the Vatican.
It was Stanmore.
***
“Hurry! We must arrive as soon as possible!”
Unlike the 1st Holy Knight Order, which was based in the capital, the 4th and 5th Orders were stationed in outlying regions.
Even with Richelieu’s summons, it would take considerable time for them to arrive.
In the meantime, Richelieu continued acting publicly as a clueless Cardinal, while secretly reaffirming loyalties with those he had bought.
“Your Eminence, approximately 50 Inquisitors have agreed to stand with us.”
“Only 50!? Do you know how much we spent!?”
“Many of them were furious—some even returned what we gave them…”
“…What the hell is going on!?”
Richelieu had expected at least half the Inquisitors to side with him. But only fifty?
“Do you remember what that Free Knight named Karl said last time?”
“Those dreamy, deluded ramblings?”
“Yes… Apparently, some were shaken by his questions.”
“So now, they’re swayed by some street-roaming Free Knight? Everything they eat, drink, and wear comes from our money! What can they do without it!?”
He wasn’t entirely wrong. The cost of maintaining the Church’s current prosperity was staggering.
Beyond the grand structures, even just maintaining the organization and providing aid to the poor across the vast continent required a massive budget. Much of that funding had come from the dirty hands of Richelieu and the other Cardinals.
He hadn’t intended to buy and sell people from the start. But as the Church grew, so did its expenses. It had begun as a desperate solution—abandoning responsibility for criminals’ fates.
Now, there was no turning back.
“Where is Sabrina?”
“She’s nearly arrived, along with Bishop Fabricio.”
“We must put the Saintess front and center to secure our justification. We’ll claim that Cardinal Thomas and his faction of Inquisitors have gone rogue.”
“…Will that be alright? The Saintess is…” “Beasts like her are the best at finding a way to survive.”
He still couldn’t understand what had happened during the Inquisitor assembly.
How could so many be swayed by the nonsense of someone who probably hadn’t even read the Scriptures?
Why did no one recognize his sacrifices—he, Richelieu, who had devoted his entire life to the Church?
“In addition to the Inquisitors, many others have been shaken by the Knight of the Lighthouse’s questions. Some have already begun defecting from our faction.”
“Ha! Enough. Contact Tarantula.”
“Your Eminence…! We can’t get more entangled with them!”
“Are you betraying me now too!?”
“They’re demon worshipers! Turning a blind eye to doomed sinners is one thing—but directly asking them for help is something else entirely!”
Richelieu’s expression twisted like a demon’s.
“You know as well as I do—Essus might not even be real! People kill for fun and drink blood, and Divine Power only shines brighter! Is that the power of God!? Del Maria, the Saintess—everyone turned a blind eye, and now they want to grow a conscience!?”
“….”
Bernardo said nothing, staring at the Cardinal’s true face now fully revealed.
“I’m the one who fed the Church! I, Richelieu, built it to what it is today! These grand buildings! Those countless Holy Knights! The Inquisitors! The poor in their clothes, eating bread, drinking tea! Every faithful soul across the continent—I’m the one who moves the Church for their sake! Me, Richelieu!”
Bernardo, watching him shout so grotesquely, felt as though he were staring at a literal demon.
‘I’ve come too far… I can’t go back now…’
He exhaled and closed his eyes briefly before responding.
“I’ll contact Tarantula.”
He realized now—he couldn’t get off this mad ride.
***
Tarantula, the group of demon worshipers and revolutionaries who sought to overturn the world, had a leadership of many.
Their name came from the eight-legged spider, the tarantula. The higher the rank, the more legs adorned their masks.
Those with one or two legs were intermediaries.
True leadership began with the Three-Legged Masks.
After the Vatican-affiliated Three-Legged Mask was killed by Karl, dissent stirred even within Tarantula.
“The Three-Legged Mask has fallen.”
“Again—it was that man Karl.”
“Our Grand Design is being seriously obstructed.”
As the various masked members spoke, the one in the seat of power—the Seven-Legged Mask—spoke.
“We designate him an enemy of the organization.”
All nodded at his declaration.
“We received a request from Cardinal Richelieu. Since he ultimately benefits us, we should assist him and ensure he doesn’t fall.”
“Do you think he can really seize the Church?”
“He has many followers. It’s possible, isn’t it?”
The Seven-Legged Mask cut through the chatter.
“As long as the Pope is alive, Richelieu will never control the Church.”
“I thought the Pope had abdicated?”
“He never relinquished the Papacy. What do you think that means?”
Pope Benedict was one of the few threats even Tarantula preferred to avoid—for now. They couldn’t afford to provoke such a monster into returning from seclusion.
“Cancel all contact with Cardinal Richelieu.” “We’ll withdraw from Church affairs for now.”
The spider masks all nodded—and the meeting came to an end.