Chapter 132: Holy Son?

“Holy Throne, this.”

The Cardinal at the side couldn’t sit still any longer.

Even she could sense the barely-concealed anger from Grand Duke Veronica below, as well as the dissatisfied looks Rosetta occasionally cast their way.

Looking down at Veronica’s furious and sorrowful expression, Luo Xiya’s deeply lonely face despite her victory, and Milis lying weakly on the ground beside them, they couldn’t understand—why did the Holy Throne not intervene until the very end?

Even Captain Rosetta couldn’t remain calm, yet she was still so composed.

“Don’t rush.”

Sylvia spoke lightly.

The Bishops and Cardinals were all starting to lose their composure.

Holy Throne, you may have everything under control, but we’re completely in the dark here.

Never mind how important Luo Xiya’s ruined right arm was for a Swordmaster—the aftereffects and mental trauma that might be left on our Saintess Highness after this life-and-death duel were immeasurable.

It didn’t have to come to this.

The Holy Throne could have stopped everything at any moment, yet she coldly watched it all unfold.

Honestly, if this term’s Holy Throne, Sylvia, wasn’t so overwhelmingly strong and cold, they’d have already been unable to resist raising a motion of impeachment against her.

Sylvia didn’t even look at them.

She simply left, leaving the stunned crowd behind.

She blinked again, appearing behind Roman.

Just as she was about to step forward and surprise him, Sylvia suddenly froze.

He was staring blankly downward, lost in thought.

Sylvia placed a hand on his shoulder, and her cold expression melted away.

In a gentle voice, she said, “Good child, let’s go.”

“…”

Roman ignored her, maintaining his silence.

If there had been anyone around, they would have been terrified by Roman’s boldness.

Was he really giving the Holy Throne attitude?

Yet Sylvia wasn’t angry at all.

Instead, she put on a doting smile, hugged Roman’s shoulders from behind, and drew him close.

She paid no mind to her chest pressing against his bare back as she tapped his shoulder and softly asked,

“Are you angry?”

After two days of observation, she had basically figured out Roman’s personality.

He was the type who responded to kindness and honesty with the same.

If you treated him sincerely, he’d treat you the same way.

So Sylvia decisively shed her usual cold and ruthless demeanor, and “honestly” tried to apologize to Roman and talk things out.

On the surface, her tone was gentle, but in reality, her gaze was less than proper, fixed on the beautiful lines of his exposed back.

Who had taught him to stand like that, back so straight and shoulders broad?

When he stood tall, the elegant butterfly bones of his back showed so clearly.

“Are you blaming me for just watching earlier?”

“No…”

Hearing Roman’s reply, Sylvia became a little displeased.

What she wanted most was for Roman to speak his mind to her, not feign politeness.

Only then would it mean he’d truly accepted her in his heart.

“Don’t be angry~”

At this point, Roman’s ears were already turning red.

It was hard to imagine such a spoiled tone coming from a woman known as the Holy Throne.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Sylvia had always kept two masks ready, choosing which one to wear based on her mood.

“Come with me. You’ll understand the reason soon.”

He had to admit, this act of gentle teasing made Roman’s resistance melt away, and he allowed himself to be led by the hand up to the highest point of the Papal Palace.

In the center of the plaza, Luo Xiya silently stared at her right hand, which had crumbled into dust and drifted away, letting out a quiet sigh.

Grand Duke Veronica stood coldly to the side, glaring at Rosetta and the Priests gathered around Milis, tending to her wounds.

As for why no one helped Luo Xiya restore her lost limb, it was because, after a glance, they could only shake their heads in helplessness.

Seeing their reactions, Veronica drew her sword.

The blade sang as it left its sheath, her eyes blazing with unhidden anger and killing intent.

One didn’t become a Duke by being a saint—Veronica herself had lost count of how many she’d slain.

The murderous aura she released in that instant sent shivers down the Priests’ spines.

Fortunately, Rosetta stepped forward to block Veronica, preventing her from doing anything reckless in a moment of rage.

As for Luo Xiya, her initial frustration and loneliness slowly faded into numb acceptance.

How unlucky…

Looks like she’d have to wield a sword with her left hand from now on.

She thought this to herself.

It also meant she wouldn’t be able to embrace Roman anymore, might have to rely on him at times, and, worst of all, she’d lose out on much of the fun during those nighttime activities because of her missing arm…

Thank goodness the Duke’s Sacred Seal wasn’t one that read minds, or her dear daughter would have driven her to an early grave with her thoughts.

Luo Xiya walked over to Milis, looked down at her still-unconscious form, and silently pursed her lips.

You Saintess of the Holy Light Church can be one all by yourself.

Facing this life-and-death rival, Luo Xiya felt no hatred at all.

After all, she was someone who kept her word, and she’d truly let Roman go to make a bet with her.

Contentment brings happiness.

Luo Xiya had never been greedy.

That’s why she could live more joyfully than most, unless someone crossed her bottom line.

In the end, she had won, and that was enough.

At that thought, Luo Xiya even felt a faint sense of pride.

“While I have the chance, I’d like to announce something to everyone.”

A dignified voice rang out above Luo Xiya’s head, making her pause.

Holy Throne?

Like everyone else, Luo Xiya looked up.

What could it be?

Announcing something at a time like this…

Luo Xiya thought with annoyance.

She had just defeated Milis, yet instead of addressing that major event, this announcement came first.

What was this…

Her train of thought snapped as she saw someone standing beside the Holy Throne.

Someone she’d been longing for day and night.

***

Ignoring the strange looks from those around him—the faces filled with things left unsaid, but suppressed out of respect for Sylvia—Roman remained silent with his head bowed.

He was afraid that if he looked down again, he wouldn’t be able to resist letting go of Sylvia’s hand and running to heal her with his own Sacred Seal, to hold her in his arms.

“Today is a destined special day.”

Sylvia spoke from the platform where speeches were given.

“Not only because two exceptional children dueled today, but also because…the Holy Light Church will welcome a new Holy Child today.”

The moment she finished speaking, everyone present, including the highest ranks of the Church beside her, fell into a deep and lasting silence.

After the silence came an explosion of debate, and the Bishops at her side finally couldn’t hold back and surged forward to demand an explanation from Sylvia.

“Holy Throne, what does this mean?”

“He’s a Holy Child? You never discussed this with us!”

“Isn’t this decision too reckless?”

Listening to the clamor around her, Sylvia’s lips curved into a trace of mockery.

Long pain is worse than short.

She would let all the possible discontent toward Roman on the continent erupt here today.

Let them question, doubt, even riot—she could accept all of it.

Only then could he be crowned Holy Child under her protection, with no worries behind him.