The Pope’s direct assassination squad, “Fingers.”
The captain of the first squad, Spriggan, frowned.
It wasn’t because he disliked assassinating innocent people.
If he had intended to always act righteously, he would have chosen to be a knight from the beginning.
But he became an assassin instead.
‘Conscience?’ That’s just something meant to be sold at the highest price.
As long as his wallet grew thicker, he would kill anyone.
‘The Vatican was completely rotten from the inside?’
‘Instead of serving God, they only sought to exploit Him, committing every atrocity to fill their own bellies? What did any of that matter?’
Back during the saintess selection, it was Spriggan himself who snatched some orphans off the streets of the Holy Kingdom and “prepared” them.
‘I live for myself. Who cares what happens to others? It’s none of my business.’
Living with that mindset made everything so much easier.
‘Why did everyone else bother pretending otherwise?’ It was beyond him.
‘Thanks to that, I’ve climbed the ranks faster than anyone else.’
‘His job satisfaction?’ Absolutely sky-high.
Thus, he had no complaints about his current assignment.
No, not just no complaints—he was pleased with it.
‘This is an opportunity to snatch glory without lifting a finger.’
His task: assassinate Riyan—the one playing the role of a genius professor and hero of the Empire.
The plan was simple: kill the actor portraying the Empire’s fabricated hero, “Riyan,” and eliminate the bothersome saintess in the process. Since it was a significant mission, the rewards promised for success were considerable.
Yet, despite the high returns, the risks seemed laughably low.
Riyan himself was practically powerless.
While the saintess was undeniably strong, she lacked sufficient support to protect herself.
As soon as Spriggan successfully infiltrated the Empire, he already felt victorious.
Of course, the saintess was an extraordinary and unpredictable individual, so he kept in mind the possibility of unforeseen incidents.
Still, eliminating Riyan seemed a certainty.
That certainty was reinforced as he easily bypassed the security.
Even the barrier of the Imperial Academy, formidable as it was, stood no chance against the power of a holy relic.
In the dead of night, evading all eyes, Spriggan reached the door to Riyan’s quarters.
‘Let’s see… the presence I sense inside is…’
Only one adult male.
A quick scan revealed the man lying in bed, apparently asleep.
Sleeping soundly, oblivious to the danger looming over him.
The sheer audacity made Spriggan chuckle.
It was pathetic, but for Spriggan, it was a stroke of luck.
‘Let’s make quick work of him and move on to the saintess.’
Resolving himself, Spriggan used another holy relic to accelerate his body, moving as fast as light itself.
In an instant, he reached the bed and drove his dagger deep into the professor’s neck.
…Something felt wrong.
He’d stabbed many people before and knew the sensation well.
But this didn’t feel like stabbing a person.
Alarmed, he pulled back the blanket.
What lay beneath was a decoy, meticulously crafted with a summoner’s familiar.
Its craftsmanship hinted at none other than the Black Tower Lord.
Spriggan prided himself on his sharp instincts.
Quickly analyzing the situation, he deduced that Riyan must have employed the Black Tower for protection.
He swiftly drew a holy relic capable of targeting a summoner’s weakness and turned around—only to freeze in place.
Not because his guess was wrong.
It was right.
But it was correct in a way that spelled disaster.
The dimly lit room.
As he turned, countless bloodshot eyes greeted him.
Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of glaring, blood-red eyes.
All fixed solely on him.
‘Not just the Black Tower. No, the White Tower too… Wait, not just the White Tower, but the Gold Tower as well…
No, even the Mercenary King…
No, even the Empire’s Swordmaster…
No, even the Emperor’s direct agents…’
This was a situation beyond comprehension.
Spriggan’s mind broke.
For nine whole days, these maniacs had hidden in Riyan’s quarters, lying in wait without sleep.
They had no intention of missing this golden opportunity.
Every one of them wore a spine-chilling grin.
Spriggan’s vision turned completely black.
***
Today was truly a bizarre day for Spriggan.
It was a day full of entirely new and strange experiences.
He’d kidnapped people before, but he’d never been kidnapped himself.
With a strange sack shoved over his head, barely able to breathe, he had been dragged all the way to the imperial palace.
He’d tortured others before, but he’d never been on the receiving end of torture.
Now, he was personally experiencing all the ingenious torture devices the Empire had invented, currently enduring the classic water torture.
And he was hearing nonsense the likes of which he’d never encountered.
“You despicable wretch! Are you still denying your crimes? Do you not even have a shred of guilt?”
The knight shouted self-righteously, pretending to be the pinnacle of justice.
But what followed had no semblance of logic.
“We know you’ve made a pact with demons! You’ve been plotting to… violate every child in the Empire, even boys, and then grind them into juice to drink!”
‘What kind of ridiculous nonsense was this?’
He was pretty sure he hadn’t made any deals with demons.
“Yes, the Holy Kingdom had fallen into corruption, but not to the extent of making pacts with devils.”
“And the rest?” He couldn’t even fathom its intent.
“What? Drinking juice made from children?”
And one of the charges—”Spreading rumors that rabbit-shaped fireworks are childish, embarrassing the head of Lyon Academy in front of students, and taking advantage of the Mercenary King’s depression to plan an attack on the Empire”—what even was that?
It was like reading a relay novel where everyone contributed their idea of a heinous act and pinned all of it on him.
‘What the hell are these lunatics trying to achieve?’
Spriggan’s mind worked furiously.
Not to plan his escape or to figure out how to die before giving away secrets—he couldn’t care less about the Vatican.
His priority was survival.
‘I need to figure out what these maniacs want and play along.’
Surely, there was some reason behind this madness.
They must want something from him.
If he gave it to them quickly and switched sides, he might live.
Desperately wracking his brain, Spriggan reached a conclusion.
“Yes, everything was orchestrated by the Holy Kingdom.”
With unwavering conviction, he declared his statement.
The Emperor’s expression changed immediately.
He even ordered the knight to stop the torture and approached Spriggan.
As expected, Spriggan’s guess had been correct.
The reason for this farce was to fabricate a justification for war.
By piling every imaginable sin on the Holy Kingdom, they could justify launching a preemptive strike.
“Do you swear on your life that everything, even the nonsense about the fireworks, was orchestrated by the Holy Kingdom?”
“Yes! All of it was our malicious scheme!”
This was an opportunity.
The Empire needed a witness—someone to prove the legitimacy of their cause in this war.
If he cooperated, his life could be spared.
Betrayal is always most rewarding when you act first.
Without hesitation, Spriggan joined in the slander…
“Thank you for your cooperation. Now, die.”
…And froze with a bewildered expression.
“W-Wait! If I cooperate, don’t I get to live as a witness?”
“Witness? What are you talking about? Didn’t you just admit to your crimes? Naturally, you must face punishment.”
The Emperor murmured to himself, looking slightly regretful, “For a moment, I doubted the veracity of the charges. But now I see it was all true. I never imagined it would be.”
Only then did Spriggan realize the truth.
These lunatics were just lunatics.
They weren’t fabricating a justification—they genuinely believed the absurd charges and wanted to confirm them.
But it was too late for him to do anything about it now.
With a swift motion, Spriggan’s head was severed.
And thus, Spriggan met his hollow end.
***
The grand cathedral glowed brilliantly.
Frantic footsteps echoed within its vast halls.
An informant, drenched in cold sweat, rushed in to deliver news to Judah, who was leisurely sipping tea.
“S-Sir, we’ve suffered total annihilation! Not a single one of them survived!”
The urgent report echoed in the space.
But Judah didn’t seem surprised.
If anything, he felt a twinge of irritation at the messenger’s panic.
“Why are you making such a fuss over something so obvious?”
The power disparity was undeniable.
Their target was merely a performer playing the role of genius professor Riyan.
Killing someone like that should’ve been simple.
Whether he hired bodyguards or called in friends for help, total defeat was inevitable.
So the report of annihilation was hardly unexpected.
Yet… something about the informant seemed off.
Even as Judah expressed his displeasure, the messenger didn’t retreat.
With a trembling voice, he stammered, “It’s… it’s our side.”
“What?”
“Our assassination squad… was completely wiped out!”