Chapter 50. The Most Solemn Place in the World
While John stood deep in thought beneath the heavy rain, someone approached and held an umbrella over him.
“Voilà. Entrez s'il vous plaît, vous allez attraper froid. (There you are. Please come inside, you’ll catch a cold.)”
“Haha, you’re here. French really is pleasant to hear no matter how many times I hear it.”
The man looked slightly embarrassed by John’s compliment.
He cleared his throat and switched away from French.
“Ahem. If you continue walking around soaked like this, you really will catch a cold. Please come inside.”
“…A cold. Perhaps catching one wouldn’t be so bad.”
Even though he was completely soaked, John reached one hand toward the drops of rain falling from the umbrella.
“Whenever I have too much to think about, standing in the rain helps. It feels like being released from pressure. Bishop Ireneo, would you like to try letting everything out beneath the pouring rain as well? Think of it as delivering your words to God.”
The man was a priest in his fifties.
He wore the same white vestments as John together with a crimson zucchetto.
He was Ireneo, Bishop of Toulouse, France.
Ireneo shook his head.
“Prayer is enough for me.”
John gave a playful smile like a child and lowered the umbrella.
“Then shall we enjoy the rain a little longer?”
Ireneo sighed deeply at John’s stubbornness.
“…Haa. At least use the umbrella.”
John glanced at Ireneo as the umbrella was placed above him again.
If the man had come out personally to greet him, it meant something required John’s attention.
Tap, tap.
Deciding to stop joking around, John shook the water from his hair.
It was time to discuss the main issue.
“What happened with the others?”
“You finally ask. They should all be gathering at the cathedral soon.”
John raised an eyebrow.
“Meaning?”
“The funeral Mass for the late Cardinal Antonio has ended.”
That was why John and Ireneo had come all the way to Vienna, Austria.
Cardinal Antonio had died.
Because of that, bishops from around the world had gathered at St. Stephen’s Cathedral.
“He’ll soon enter the catacombs.”
“Most likely.”
The catacombs were famous for holding organs and remains belonging to past emperors.
Starting in 1953, bishops had also begun to be buried there.
John made the sign of the cross for Cardinal Antonio and offered a short moment of silence.
Then he nodded.
“Then let’s head back.”
“I have been waiting to hear those words, Your Eminence.”
Because the position was now empty, a new cardinal would eventually be selected.
Cardinals were chosen by the Pope from among ordained bishops.
In other words, John qualified and had already become one of the candidates.
Ireneo supported John and kept trying to address him with a higher title.
“Please stop doing that. If someone hears you, it’ll cause trouble!”
John quickly waved his hands.
“What are you talking about? You’re practically already a cardinal!”
Ireneo continued flattering him.
John felt another headache coming.
Between Durandal and the cardinal’s death, he already had more than enough to worry about.
He could not afford to be dragged down by one careless comment.
Holding his brow, John rejected the flattery.
“Everything is decided by His Holiness the Pope and by God. I merely follow Their will.”
“Ahem. I suppose I went too far. My apologies.”
Understanding the polite refusal, Ireneo finally gave up.
Then he returned to the real subject.
“By the way, the public reports say the missing sword was a fake, but… where exactly did it go? We truly have no idea.”
That was connected to the problem John had been thinking about.
Durandal, which had remained firmly embedded inside the rock at Rocamadour, had disappeared.
The village was close to Toulouse, Ireneo’s diocese.
Naturally, the matter had become his responsibility.
“Did you know the people of Vienna also call this cathedral ‘Steffl’?”
John suddenly started talking about St. Stephen’s Cathedral.
It seemed unrelated to the missing Durandal.
Still, Ireneo listened carefully.
John was not the type to give an answer about something he knew nothing about.
“This place was originally a sacred location for pagans as well.”
As they walked, they reached the Giant’s Door.
Beyond it lay the cathedral’s nave.
However, John did not enter.
Instead, he approached one of the many sculptures on the outside wall.
“Interesting, isn’t it? He almost looks like Samson.”
The statue John approached depicted Samson.
“Samson was a Nazirite. He broke his vows, was captured by his enemies, and lost his power. Even so, he eventually returned to God.”
John suddenly stepped back into the rain and spread both arms as though embracing the cathedral.
The heavy rainfall blurred his vision.
Still, he opened his eyes wide.
“What are you doing?!”
Startled by John’s sudden action, Ireneo hurriedly moved the umbrella over him.
The umbrella was lowered so far that it blocked John’s view.
John stepped forward until he could see beyond its edge.
Two tall towers entered his sight.
“Do you know what those two towers are called?”
“The Pagan Towers? Why do you ask…?”
They were called the Pagan Towers because materials from ancient Roman buildings had supposedly been used in their construction.
Unable to understand John’s actions or words, Ireneo tilted his head.
“In other words, St. Stephen’s Cathedral is almost like Samson returning from paganism. These towers are evidence of its pagan past, and after returning from that past, it received the baptismal name Steffl from the people of Vienna. Something like that. Haha, perhaps I stretched the metaphor too far.”
Feeling slightly embarrassed after making up his own interpretation, John scratched his head.
“What does that have to do with Durandal?”
Unable to tolerate John’s roundabout explanation any longer, Ireneo finally asked directly.
“There is a connection. God ordered Durandal to remain where it was, but it disobeyed that command and, like Samson, fell into the hands of evil.”
The word evil made Ireneo feel as though he had been pulled into a maze.
“…But our investigation found nothing.”
Countless priests and investigators had checked the site.
They found no clues.
Ireneo himself had climbed the rock and inspected it.
The disappearance had been so complete that there was not even a single trace.
Eventually, the investigators had been forced to give up.
“There wasn’t even a faint trace of demonic energy. Do you still believe demons were responsible?”
“We cannot say they weren’t. For example, perhaps the culprit was a human without demonic energy.”
“No way?!”
People who remained hidden behind demons without standing out themselves.
If demon worshippers received support from a Great Demon, stealing the sword might have been possible.
If we investigate that possibility more closely, we might find a trail.
This was why Ireneo supported John.
John’s words repeatedly struck at possibilities others failed to notice.
“The problem is why now.”
That was what John had been thinking about from the beginning.
Why had they targeted Durandal exactly when a cardinal died?
There was no way to know their objective.
The apocalypse?
Even if the incidents were not yet as severe as the Glasya-Labolas disaster in Korea, demonic activity was increasing across the world.
If everything truly was moving toward the apocalypse described in the historical records,
Then we will have to use every available method.
Step, step.
John and Ireneo continued walking while thinking about the unresolved problem.
They passed the statue of Samson.
“Hmm. With my limited understanding, I still can’t find an answer.”
No matter how much Ireneo considered the demons’ objective, he could not reach a conclusion.
“That’s fine. For now, what matters most is the choice of the Holy Sword. Will it continue wandering in the hands of evil, or will it return to God like Samson…?”
Waiting for the Holy Sword’s answer, they passed through the open Giant’s Door and entered the nave.
A beautiful fan-shaped vaulted ceiling stretched overhead.
The pillars were decorated with statues beneath ornate canopies.
The three-aisled nave was always dimly lit.
The most solemn place in the world.
The darkness mixed with the magnificent architecture and created an atmosphere so sacred that speaking loudly felt almost forbidden.
Because of that, people sometimes called it the most solemn place in the world.
The silence made even John and Ireneo’s footsteps echo loudly.
Step. Step.
The priests who had been praying inside the nave all turned toward the entrance.
The bishops had returned from the catacombs.
Every one of them was among the most distinguished priests in the world.
Some welcomed John.
“You’ve arrived.”
“You’re late, John.”
Others ignored him completely and continued praying.
“Lord, examine the sins I committed today through thought, word, deed, and neglect of duty. Help me recognize those sins that have become habits within me. Amen.”
Fortunately, nobody directly told him to leave.
“Please use this to dry yourself.”
“Thank you. May the blessing of Mary, conceived without original sin, be with you.”
A priest who appeared to serve at St. Stephen’s handed John a towel.
After drying himself, John smiled casually at the bishops.
“I apologize for being late. I had some things to think about. Haha!”
“Things to think about? Were those thoughts more important than this gathering?”
“And a man like that is a candidate for the next cardinal. The world truly has gone insane.”
Several bishops expressed their displeasure by releasing thin, wavering aura toward John.
“Everyone, please calm yourselves. Bishop John was delayed because he was considering the Durandal incident.”
Ireneo, who entered behind him, released his own aura in response and protected John.
Aura from the bishops filled the nave.
Some of them wielded Holy Relics.
Others had records of purifying high-ranking demons.
Seeing powerful bishops conduct a battle of pressure inside the cathedral gave John another headache.
“Haa. How did we end up in an age where powerful people become bishops…. Haa.”
Holding his head, John remembered a book he had once read explaining why bishops had become so strong.
After the religious wars ended and the power of the clergy weakened, demons began running rampant.
With fewer clergy, there were not enough people to stop demons spreading like a plague.
So the Vatican created a solution.
It was actually a very effective strategy.
They expanded training programs to create as many clergy as possible.
Among them, those who showed exceptional talent for exorcism were appointed bishops.
It became strict meritocracy.
The policy was extremely expensive.
Training that many people naturally costs money, but they had no choice.
Before the situation became irreversible, the Pope of that era squeezed out as much funding as possible and implemented the policy.
New clergy with real ability became bishops.
Corrupt branches were cut away.
Naturally, the existing privileged class resisted.
However, once the actual number of demonic incidents began to fall, opposition gradually lost its voice.
In the end, they caught two rabbits at once.
They removed corruption while gaining enough strength to restrain demons.
The Vatican had continued following the same policy ever since.
The problem is….
John looked at the bishops filling the nave and communicating through aura.
According to that book, every bishop gathered here was essentially a monster.
And not a single cardinal had come to St. Stephen’s to control them.
In other words, John, a candidate for cardinal, might be expected to lead them.
“God, why have You given me this trial?”
Compared to watching an uncontrollable situation like this, watching Michael cause trouble sounded far easier.
At least Michael could be reasoned with.
Click.
At that moment, the sound of a weapon being loaded echoed through the nave.
As though answering John’s suffering, that single sound suppressed the aura released by Ireneo and every bishop present.
“Bishops representing cathedrals around the world, wasting time in a petty contest inside a cathedral. The power sleeping within me finds your behavior pathetic.”
The moment John heard the bizarre way of speaking, his eyes widened.
The bishops were already difficult enough.
An even greater monster had arrived.
John slowly turned toward the stained-glass windows where the voice came from.
“The Shooter of the Nativity….”
A young man watched them with bored eyes.
He had sharp, cat-like eyes beneath thick eyebrows.
His blond hair was styled in a parted grunge perm, completely out of place inside the solemn cathedral.
Nobody complained.
“The fallen angel sleeping inside my right arm tells me we should go to Korea. End this gathering quickly.”
He operated directly under the Pope and was treated as an equal to a cardinal.
Gabriel, the chuunibyou-infected Shooter of the Nativity, stood inside the nave aiming a nail gun at the bishops.
