I Became the Narrow-Eyed Henchman of the Evil Boss

The priests of the cult clutched the relics in their hands. Ancient relics, filled with pure divine power, lost to the corrupted magic of this era, now were impossible to find in the corners of the world.

Among those relics, the most revered ones, imbued with the deepest breath of the divine, were to be sacrificed according to the pope’s plan…

But even with the remaining relics, they could bring a new wind to the declining Divine Cult.

It was a harbinger of a new era.

But for now, they could not feel such joy. Their comrade, Hyacinth, who had stayed at the temple until the end, had not returned.

Philoxenon, the leader of the Aegio Cult, swept his white beard. He belonged to the generation of priests alongside Hyacinth, marking him as one of the oldest among the cult members. While Philoxenon was known for his cool demeanor, he had fought together with Hyacinth for decades. It was hard to remain indifferent to the life or death of a comrade.

Then, at some moment, the world began to tremble.

It was different from an earthquake. It wasn’t the physical jolts of tectonic collisions or the magical repercussions from magic.

The purest divine power, which they thought would never be felt in this era, was shaking the world.

The priests soon realized that the ground beneath their feet was stained black. It resembled the hue of the Pluton Great Temple they had just been searching for.

It was not just a resemblance. The deep black, darker than shadows, was identical to the walls of the temple they had witnessed.

Under their feet, the ground shook as black rocks surged up; it was the Pluton Great Temple itself.

“This is…!”

One priest gasped, a mix of shock and joy escaping him.

The members of the Divine Cult no longer sensed a harbinger of a new era.

Instead, they were witnessing the new era itself.

The glory of the radiant mythological age. The ancient temple had returned to the hands of the Divine Cult.

*

Kore hid the Pluton Great Temple within the shadows of the earth and headed towards the pope’s residence. It was truly a miracle-like result.

Inside the temple, there was a vast amount of relics that the priests of each cult had been unable to transport. Whether it was right to expend this for the pope’s plans was secondary; for the Divine Cult, it was a stroke of exceptional luck.

The pope was holding a precious artifact of the oldest origin among the relics found by the Divine Cult, praying over it.

What was in his hands now was the relic of Elimon. It was a necklace made of sea pearls. The pope knelt beneath the altar, extending both hands holding the necklace towards the sky. It was the appearance of a priest imploring to the divine.

It was unknown to which god the origin was directed, and whether it was really a prayer for the god.

The relic slowly regained its ancient form, climbing back through hundreds, perhaps thousands or tens of thousands of years. Dusty gray, spotless white, and a radiance that seemed to capture the starlight of the night sea.

The sacred luster sparkled within the white pearls. Yet the pope did not stop. The pearls began to revert more and more to the ancient times. The history piled within the clam’s shell was being reflected back.

Even the fragments of earth and dust before they were shaped into jewels.

Thus, what remained in the pope’s hand was the remnants of sea pearls reduced to a few grains of sand and the primal divine power that had dwelled in those pearls.

The pope infused the purity of the ancient past into the thick darkness behind the altar. The starlight flickered within the darkness.

The shimmering light of divine power, which gleamed like a comet, soon spread into the darkness behind the altar. It should be described not as ‘swallowed by the darkness’ but rather as ‘seeping into it.’

Just like a heartbeat, the darkness pulsed in sync with some rhythm. Within it, vibrant colors of light bloomed like nebulas, but then faded away.

“Still not enough…”

As he rose from his place, the pope turned around to look down at Kore.

“I heard you acquired the Great Temple. Congratulations.”

Within the pope’s congratulatory words, Kore felt an unknown chill. For any priest to possess a temple dedicated to the gods, in other words, to claim ownership, was impossible.

No, it was an act of sacrilege that must not be done—how could a servant dare covet what belongs to the god?

From that audacious expression, Kore could infer the pope’s thoughts.

The Pluton Great Temple was another central point binding the Divine Cult, and in order to operate it properly, it was essential for Kore, the priestess of Pluton herself.

It meant that the Pluton cult, which had only existed in whispers until now, along with its priestess, was recognized as another core of the Divine Cult.

In other words, Kore would emerge as a new entity capable of opposing the pope’s authority.

The ‘Kore who obtained the temple,’ in the pope’s words, could become his only rival.

‘No way?’

Kore finally realized why Orthes had ‘handed over’ the temple to her.

Now, the trust relationship between Kore and the pope was no longer the same and could never return. Even if Kore made any testimony, the pope would inevitably judge her claims with a degree of prejudice.

The head of the Divine Cult was divided in two.

The cult was originally meant to be the greatest enemy of the Mage King. However, the day when the will of the cult would unify as one had now vanished forever.

If Kore were to fully support the pope’s plan now, things might change. But Kore still could not accept the pope’s plans.

The Divine Cult had grown stronger. Adding the relics of the temple to the pope’s creations, which had stepped closer to completion today, could potentially recreate the grandeur of the ancient age.

In other words, while growing the power of the cult to contest against the Ten Towers, the unity of the will within the cult would never be achieved.

The phrase ‘enemy of the Ten Towers’ declared by Orthes resurfaces. He had restored the past power of the Divine Cult, allowing them to become enemies of the Ten Towers.

The dagger that would pierce the Ten Towers, which was now fully focused on Argyrion.

Orthes had advised, ‘The cult must wait until the vanished mage and the Ten Towers fight each other,’ yet could the pope really think the same?

How would the pope interpret the prophecy that the vanished mage would return? Did he think that if that impious being were to be completed as per his plan, he could even defeat the vanished mage?

Or did he see Orthes’s statement as something other than a prophecy?

Whether the pope knew of Kore’s confusion or not, he just smiled gently.

The pope recalled the flickering light from the altar.

The light of Phoibos dimmed, leaving eleven altars. In the Pluton Great Temple, five relics connected to the altar were discovered, and just moments ago, one was retrieved.

Having extinguished Elimon’s light with his own hands, there should only be ten flames left.

However.

Only nine flames remained, flickering.

Someone had extinguished the soul of the old priest elsewhere.

*

Halto’s heard news that was surely joyous yet filled with doubts.

The squad sent by Argyrion clashed with a council elder of the Ten Towers.

– There was no choice. The suspicious distress signal was likely a trap. Therefore, only a small volunteer force was sent.

As a result of the clash, the dispatched squad was annihilated, and the subsequent force sent to hastily track them down returned without even being able to recover their corpses.

– The Ten Towers have always been absolute powerhouses. Halto, once the deputy commander of Blasphemia, understood their strength better than anyone. Just knowing that the elders of the Ten Towers had been wiped out was an achievement beyond expectation.

But the fact was that the council elder also perished due to the struggle of the members.

– Does that even make sense?

Even if the magic of the Angel Transformations performed better than expected, they were facing an elder of the Ten Towers!

Yet the discovery of the elder’s corpse was a reality.

The absence of any eyewitnesses to the battle raised doubts about its credibility. Meanwhile, it was said that the fight occurred within a spatial barrier created by the elder of the injured iron. It was only natural that the interior of the barrier could not be observed.

The subsequent forces witnessed the formation of a massive barrier, and when they arrived, the barrier had already been dismantled. And at that spot, the elder’s body remained.

The situation was so direct that it was impossible to interpret anything other than the elder being murdered, leading to the magic being undone.

Asking who the murderer of the elder was would be ridiculous. There were scattered bodies of the transformed members on the scene.

Furthermore.

In this era, who else besides Argyrion would dare to betray the Ten Towers?

Everyone could see that the struggle of the members, risking their lives, created a miracle.

Indescribable discomfort. While Halto instructed the members not to act rashly, he sought a way to utilize the shocking fact of the elder’s death.

“Indeed, the most effective way may be to expose it.”

Authority breeds suspicion the moment it wanes even slightly.

If they publicly announce that the council elder, a figure of absolute power, has fallen, surely there would be more individuals turning against the arrogant traitors of the Ten Towers, awakening to the divine cause.

Efforts for rational speculation ultimately converged into chaos.

It was the moment when the seeds of illusion sown and nurtured by Orthes finally began to bloom.

---