It succeeded.
Through her earlier maneuver, Via had tainted every other saintess candidate with abyssal aura.
Back then, not discarding the Abyssal Eye communication device had been the right call.
After smuggling it back, she had tinkered with it extensively, rigging it so she could exert full control.
That moment in the chapel, she had simply put on a show—deliberately fumbling the device so it “accidentally” tumbled free, unleashing a burst of abyssal aura in the process.
In one fell swoop, she had muddied the waters, sowing chaos that would keep Mia from pinpointing the abyssal traces on her own body with any precision.
The sole wildcard was Janice.
If that saintess candidate decided to force a mind-read, Via’s secrets might come spilling out in jagged fragments.
But from the vibe in here right now, Via mused, Janice isn’t about to pull that trigger.
Not unless the girl steeled herself to bulldoze past Via’s feigned fragility and press the attack without mercy.
Via shouldn’t take pride in it, but damn if her wide-eyed, doe-like charm didn’t make her a master at playing the pity card—utterly unbeatable on that front.
“Okay, okay, Via, enough with the tears,” Isher said, giving her shoulder a firm pat. “Just wait for Archbishop Belon to show up, then lay it all out nice and clear.”
“Um…” Via sniffled, her sobs tapering into hiccups as she wiped her nose.
The other saintess candidates let the matter drop, no further grilling.
“Via, this is small potatoes,” Nana chimed in, her tone light and reassuring. “Not even close to that mess I caused last time—haha! I nearly turned the whole group into demonized freaks!”
“You’ve got some nerve laughing about it,” Isher snapped, jabbing a finger at her. “If we weren’t saintess candidates, that abyssal aura could’ve eroded us all on the spot! You need to reflect on this—properly!”
“Yeah, yeah!”
Nana bobbed her head in vigorous agreement, but the grin splitting her face betrayed zero hint of remorse.
Via stole a sidelong glance at her, surprise flickering through her thoughts.
She didn’t see that coming, Via admitted inwardly. Nana’s blunder just flipped the board in my favor.
The original scheme had called for Via to trigger the device herself and blow it sky-high.
Instead, Nana had stomped it to pieces ahead of schedule.
Now it looked like Nana’s screw-up, not hers—which shaved off a hefty layer of suspicion.
“Hmph!”
Ruby let out a sharp, displeased huff, clutching her doll tighter as she whipped her face away.
She couldn’t stomach watching this little circus any longer.
And still, that inexplicable grudge of hers simmered toward Via, sharp as ever.
Mia flopped back down onto her bench, eyes drifting shut again—whether fully asleep or just dozing, who could tell?
Janice, Isher, and Nana set to work purifying the lingering abyssal aura, with the rest of the saintess candidates pitching in to help.
Via, ever the picture of deference, slipped off to the sidelines, melting into an overlooked corner of the room.
Ten minutes ticked by—maybe fifteen—before Archbishop Belon stormed into the chapel.
The moment the abyssal reek hit him, his face purpled with fury.
“What in the blazing hells is this?” he bellowed. “Abyssal aura—here? In the Holy Land? How dare such filth defile this sacred ground!!”
“Uh, well…” Isher faltered, words failing her.
Her eyes flicked toward Via, heavy with unspoken plea.
“I’m sorry, Archbishop,” Via murmured, stepping forward with bowed head and quivering lip. “This is all my fault.”
“Via—what happened?” Belon’s voice cracked like a whip. “Did you unleash this abyssal rot?”
“Yes, Archbishop—”
She launched into her tale without pause, spinning the yarn of the Abyssal Eye communication device: its shady origins, the “accidental” drop, the aura’s untimely spill.
By the end, Belon’s cheeks twitched like they were caught in a spasm.
“Via—you again,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Utterly, hopelessly useless!!”
“Come on, Archbishop, don’t be so harsh,” Nana piped up. “Via had her heart in the right place—she hauled back that Abyssal Eye artifact for a reason. It’s got real intel value!”
“Nana—how do you have the gall to defend her?”
Belon looked ready to detonate, steam practically curling from his ears.
“If not for your brainless stunt, that device would still be intact! We could’ve handed it over as prime intelligence for the Holy Land—instead, you smashed it to scrap!”
“Uh—er… ahaha!” Nana’s laugh rang hollow; rebuttal wasn’t in the cards.
“You two,” Belon thundered, eyes locking on Via and Nana like targeting runes, “once this blows over, you’re both facing punishment. No appeals!”
He was losing it, teetering on the brink.
These two—the dead last and second-to-last saintess candidates—were walking calamities for the Holy Land, forever kicking up storms in their wake.
“Archbishop,” Janice interjected softly, her voice a soothing balm, “if I may ask—what prompted you to summon us all?”
“…First things first—head count.”
Belon swept his gaze across the chapel, tallying the faces: every saintess candidate present and accounted for, Sophie excepted.
“Alright,” he grunted. “Everyone’s here but Sophie. No stragglers.”
“Archbishop—where’s my sister?” Via’s concern laced her words, genuine enough to tug at sleeves.
“…The Pope dispatched her to the Hall of Heroes.”
“Sister? The Hall of Heroes?”
“Sophie’s still not back.” Belon waved a dismissive hand. “Perfect—Via, you head over there. Fetch her and bring her along.”
He had zero intention of hoofing it himself; the trek from chapel to Hall would eat up precious minutes.
“Archbishop’s dodging the legwork by dumping it on Via,” Nana teased with a grin. “Talk about peak laziness!”
“Pipe down, Nana,” Belon shot back. “One more word, and kiss this month’s stipend goodbye—you can donate it straight to the gods!”
“Oh…!”
Nana’s hands flew to her mouth, sealing it shut.
Saintess candidates drew meager stipends each month—meant to hone their humility, after all.
A deduction like that? It’d squeeze their purses to the breaking point.
Not everyone pulled extras like Sophie, raking in praise and bonuses on the regular.
“Archbishop, I’ll go fetch Sister right away,” Via said, already edging for the door.
She bolted from the chapel, bound for the Hall of Heroes.
Where are you…
Via slipped inside the Hall of Heroes, the air thick with reverence and the faint hum of ancient wards.
Truth be told, this marked her second visit.
The first had come courtesy of their mother, back when Sylvia still walked among them—escorting her twin daughters for a glimpse of glory.
But Via had been so young then, memories blurred to vague impressions of gleaming statues and echoing whispers.
She hadn’t returned since.
Human heroes’ souls held zero allure for her.
I’m the proud Demon King, she reminded herself with a mental scoff. Why on earth would I stoop to claiming scraps from the human realm?
No—she needed Sophie, and fast.
Not over here… maybe that way…
The pink-haired girl wove through the forest of statues—towering effigies of humanity’s legends, frozen in eternal vigil.
She scanned each shadowed alcove, hunting for that familiar cascade of red.
At last, before a statue wrought in gleaming silver, she spotted her: the red-haired girl, poised like a supplicant.
There!
Joy sparked across Via’s face.
She broke into a jog, mouth opening to call out—
But the tableau before her slammed the brakes on everything.
Her features locked in place, mid-smile.
Footsteps halted.
Wait.
What the hell is this?
Why is Sophie standing right in front of Lady Selina’s hero statue?