Chapter 105: Sophie’s Conduct

The Silver Sword Princess, Selina.

In Via’s past life, her sworn enemy.

Just seeing that woman’s face stirred a storm of displeasure in her chest.

If not for Selina, Via seethed inwardly, I never would’ve ended up in this pathetic state.

She harbored a deep-seated loathing for her old rival.

Yet after years of brutal clashes, one truth stood crystal clear.

Selina was a swordswoman, not a cleric—no sacred arts in her arsenal.

So Via couldn’t wrap her head around it.

Why was Sophie, of all people—a cleric through and through—standing before Selina’s hero statue?

If Sophie sought an inheritance, she’d naturally commune with a fellow holy soul, right?

What was the point of chasing Selina’s echo?

Sophie didn’t even know the first thing about swordplay.

Sophie reached out toward the armor adorning Selina’s statue, fingers inching closer as if to brush the Divine Might Armament itself.

But just as her fingertips hovered on the brink of contact, she froze.

Then she turned her head.

“Via?”

“Ah?”

Via blinked, caught off guard.

She’d kept a careful distance from Sophie—no dramatic footfalls, no raised voice to announce her.

So how had Sophie zeroed in on her presence without so much as a glance?

Pinpointed her exact direction, no less.

What’s going on here?

“You came,” Sophie said, lowering her hand. “Via.”

“Sister, Archbishop Belon sent me.”

Via shoved down the jolt of surprise, mustering her best innocent shrug as she closed the gap between them.

“He said you’ve been holed up in the Hall of Heroes forever—wanted me to drag you back to the chapel.”

“The chapel?”

“Yeah. Everyone else is already there—just you missing.”

“Oh. Right.” Sophie nodded thoughtfully. “I guess I have been here a while.”

“Sister, what are you even doing in here?” Via tilted her head, lacing her voice with sisterly concern. “Hunting for a soul inheritance?”

“Nah. The Pope says my temperament’s still got rough edges—miles away from true saintess material. He sent me to commune with the heroes’ souls, figure out what’s holding me back.”

Sophie’s gaze drifted away, settling once more on Selina’s statue.

“That’s what I’m pondering now—what I’m missing.”

“I see…”

Via’s mind raced.

Something’s off.

Why wouldn’t Sophie meet her eyes while spilling all this?

A hunch prickled at her: Sophie wasn’t telling the full story.

“By the way, Via—what do you think of Lady Selina?” Sophie tossed out the question like an afterthought.

“Lady… Selina?”

Via’s mood soured further, a bitter twist knotting her gut.

Lady? What gives her the right to that from me?

She’s not worthy!

“Yeah—Lady Selina crushed the Demon King outright. Toppled the wicked lord of the demons, ushered in peace for all humanity.”

“Crushed?”

Via couldn’t hold back the word’s sting—it ignited like a spark on dry tinder, her voice pitching higher on instinct.

Crushed where?

Where exactly?

“Isn’t that the story?” Sophie’s eyes narrowed, latching onto the hitch in Via’s reaction like a hawk spotting prey.

“Uh… no, I mean—” Via scrambled for cover, words tumbling out in a rush. “If Lady Selina truly crushed Demon King Ville that badly, why’d she die in the end? If Ville was that outmatched, what were we humans even fighting for all those years—a ‘bitter war’ like that?”

“You’ve got a point there.”

“Sister, think about it,” Via pressed, layering on the earnestness. “Ville was the worst Demon King ever—if he didn’t pack real power, how could he have threatened humanity so fiercely? It was his freakish, beyond-reason strength that forced Lady Selina to pour everything into that final battle. Her courage? It’s… truly moving.”

Via’s lips shaped the praise, but inside, her stomach churned like a roiling sea.

Why do I have to sing my enemy’s praises?

“Your take on things is… refreshingly unique, Via,” Sophie remarked, a faint smile playing at her lips.

“Sister, let’s not linger. Everyone’s waiting—we head back late, and Belon’s gonna blow a fuse.”

Via couldn’t care less about Belon’s temper.

She just wanted out.

What if Selina’s soul stirred awake?

The mere thought of chatting with her old foe made Via’s skin crawl.

“Fine. Let’s go, then.” Sophie relented.

“Mm!”

Via bobbed her head.

“…Still here.”

Sophie’s whisper was feather-light, barely a breath.

But Via caught it, sharp as a blade’s edge.

Still here?

What still lingered?

Via frowned, puzzled.

And she’d noticed—while murmuring those words, Sophie’s eyes had flicked downward, toward Via herself.

Is she talking about something on me?

“You’re finally back—what took so long?”

In the chapel, Belon rounded on Via and Sophie the instant they crossed the threshold.

“It’s pitch black out there!”

“Sorry, Archbishop. I ran into… a snag in the Hall of Heroes. Held me up.” Sophie offered a smooth excuse.

“Hmph. Sit down—now.” Belon let Sophie’s tardiness slide, no further prodding.

“Got it.”

Sophie claimed her seat.

The pews in the hall followed a strict pecking order.

As the undisputed top saintess candidate, Sophie took the front row.

Second-place Mia claimed the row behind.

And so on, down the ranks.

Via, naturally, parked herself at the tail end—Nana’s broad frame blocking the view ahead.

“Sophie! Long time no see!!”

Nana, never one for awkward silences despite their sparse chats, waved with unbridled cheer, hollering a greeting.

“Yeah, Nana—has it really been nine months?” Sophie smiled back, warm and easy.

“…”

“Whoa, Sophie—you remember that precisely?”

“Of course. You’re the only one I keep track of like that—everyone else? Not so much.”

“You’re amazing! Me? I’ve got zero clue on the timelines.” Nana sighed, half in awe, half in envy.

The other saintess candidates treated Sophie worlds apart from Via.

Via? Harmless dead last—no ripples, no threats, whatever chaos she stirred.

But Sophie loomed large, unchallenged at number one.

With her in the running, the rest’s shot at succeeding as the next saintess? A pipe dream at best.

Most viewed her as the rival to topple—the mountain blocking their path.

Even laid-back Mia perked up, shedding her usual haze for a sharper focus.

“Enough chit-chat,” Belon barked, hacking a cough to reclaim the room. “The Holy Land didn’t summon every saintess candidate here for a social hour.”

He cleared his throat with deliberate gravity.

“Now—listen up. What I’m about to announce is critical. Not a word to miss.”