Chapter 204

Chapter 204
## Chapter 204: The True Face of the Darkened Soul

*Clack. Clack.*

A procession of over a hundred armored knights galloped away from the city gates.

Inside the rattling carriage, Marquis Wyzer sat with a face like stone, his gaze fixed on the woman resting on the bench opposite him.

“……”

“……?”

*Grin!*

The woman offered the Marquis a radiant, beaming smile.

With hair as white as fresh snow, sweeping eyelashes, and skin devoid of a single blemish, she possessed a beauty so profound it could disarm any man. Yet, looking at that joyful expression only made a violent shiver run down Wyzer’s spine.

“Are you… perhaps feeling any discomfort?” he managed to ask.

“Yes.”

“So… you are doing well?”

“Yes.”

“……I understand.”

“Yes.”

The dialogue was a stagnant loop.

Heavy silence reclaimed the carriage. After that brief exchange, no further words were shared between them. The atmosphere was more suffocating than sitting atop a bed of thorns.

Desperate for an escape, Marquis Wyzer tore his eyes away and looked at Serengeti, who sat beside him.

*‘Is she truly the Se-ah Saintess?’* his eyes pleaded.

*‘She is,’* Serengeti replied with a subtle, firm nod.

Wyzer felt his throat go bone-dry. He had sent a desperate plea for assistance to the successor, Randolph, but the reinforcement that had arrived was this woman. When her true identity had been revealed to him, the Marquis had nearly suffered a stroke from the shock.

The Se-ah Saintess!

Among the holy women of the Goddess Church, she was a figure of myth. More importantly, she was recorded to have perished during the Great Expedition. That was the official history the world accepted.

*‘If the Church discovers that the Se-ah Saintess still draws breath, it will trigger a literal upheaval.’*

Randolph had chosen to send her in his stead. What was the heir’s gambit? If she stood before King Balan, there was no way her lineage and identity could remain a secret.

*‘However… if the Se-ah Saintess remains at King Balan’s side, even a man as bold as King Frederick won’t be able to act without hesitation.’*

King Frederick, the iron-fisted despot of the Iron Kingdom, had finally overstepped. He was currently marching toward King Balan to issue a formal ultimatum of war. That prideful man intended to force Balan into a corner where the only options were total submission or execution.

But the sight of the Se-ah Saintess would change the calculus. He wouldn’t dare trigger a reckless conflict while she was present. The Goddess Church would be forced to intervene, and no matter how much the Iron Kingdom dominated the eastern lands, they could not survive being branded an enemy of the Church.

The only issue was…

*Grin!*

“……”

Watching that innocent, pure-white smile, Wyzer felt a throbbing ache in his temples.

*‘I’m not certain I have the strength to manage this.’*

He might hold the rank of Marquis, but he was essentially a lord of the frontier. In contrast, the Se-ah Saintess was the “Icon of Hope” revered by almost every living soul on the continent. The moment the news of her return broke, the shockwaves would be world-altering.

Yet, Randolph had placed her in his care.

*‘The successor truly trusts me.’*

If he didn’t, he never would have handed over a figure of such magnitude. Fine. He could accept the responsibility. Everything was under control…

“My Lady Saintess. Do you happen to know… what that gentleman is currently occupied with?”

“Yes.”

She answered the hollow question he had used to puncture the silence. Even Serengeti was in the dark, yet the Saintess knew?

Wyzer leaned forward urgently. “In that case, could you enlighten me? What is he doing?”

“He mentioned he was going to have a little bit of fun before returning.”

“I beg your pardon…?”

“He said he was attending a party.”

“……??”

—

*‘Exquisite.’*

The figure behind the Golden Mask was deeply pleased. The gala was unfolding with magnificent precision. The feast gathered here was far more succulent than he had dared to hope. Surely, the ‘Great Will of the Moon’ would find this satisfying.

*‘Though it seems nothing will ever truly eclipse the essences of Heaven’s Fall and the Abyss.’*

His only minor regret was that no offering had yet surpassed the souls of the primeval giants from the Mythic Era. It was expected, of course. Those beings were the literal foundations of the world. Not merely massive in physical form, the sheer caliber of their spirits was staggering—calling them demigods was hardly an exaggeration.

*‘Part of this banquet’s purpose is to observe the movements of the patrons.’*

Through the souls presented, he could map the actions of the participants. For instance, the Golden Fox had clearly been relentlessly harrying the Goddess Church. Capturing the souls of high-ranking cardinals and saintesses was no simple feat. To breach such a fortified defense required a campaign on the scale of a total war.

And recently, only one faction had been embroiled in such a conflict with the Church.

*‘So it was you directing the Balrog Order, Golden Fox.’*

The Balrog Order! Those corrupted paladins who spread shadows across the land. He had long wondered who held their leash. It was unexpected that she would strike at the Church so brazenly. The Golden Fox was also a peerless swordmaster; many of the Empire’s finest blades had been forged under her tutelage.

*‘And the Golden Monkey… you’ve been hunting ghosts of the Old Empire.’*

The essence known as the Black Emperor was inextricably linked to that ancient fallen state. Little was understood about the Six Evils who stood against the Six Virtues. The Monkey must have unearthed this during his excavations. However, compared to the legendary souls of the Six Virtues, the ‘Black Emperor’ felt underwhelming. Consider ‘Riley,’ one of the Virtues who appeared in the Labyrinth of the Abyss—his spirit was on an entirely different level.

*‘The most predictable remains the Golden Lion… he never changes.’*

The Golden Mask smirked privately. Every patron here harbored a burning hatred for both the gods and the sinners. That was the reason for the masks. They were beings who had been treated as ‘divine vessels,’ their bodies hijacked or controlled against their will. Having been robbed of their identities, they found a new sense of self through these hides and personas.

But time had a way of eroding even the deepest spite. Except for the Golden Lion.

As the Golden Mask scanned the offerings, his focus finally locked onto one specific figure.

*‘……The Golden Goat.’*

The 12th patron, a man who shouldn’t even exist, and a total wild card.

*‘The only certainty is his profound connection to O Juryeok.’*

Hudson, the representative of the labyrinth city, served O Juryeok. For Hudson to appear alongside the Golden Goat meant their fates were intertwined. It wasn’t even outside the realm of possibility that the Golden Goat *was* O Juryeok himself. The King of Crows was, after all, a man of endless secrets.

*‘Regardless, there will be no repeat of the first banquet.’*

Granting the Golden Goat the first taste of authority during the initial gathering had been a blunder. It was an unspoken tradition, but because of it, no one had truly mastered the ‘feast.’ No one could have predicted he would simply discard the prize.

This time, there would be no such fluke.

*‘He has had no time to hunt, and whatever soul he managed to scrape together will be pitiful.’*

The Goat had brought nothing to the first banquet. The other patrons had spent decades cultivating their offerings for this specific moment. There was no way he could compete. Even if he brought a soul, he would undoubtedly occupy the lowest rank.

*‘A single soul, drenched in shadow of all things.’*

It was exactly as he thought. It was so transparently weak that he had to fight the urge to laugh. The Golden Goat had offered only one spirit. A soul stained entirely black. Such a hue usually indicated one of two things: a fallen spirit or one consumed by a powerful malediction. In either case, it was worthless.

*‘A fallen soul implies a lack of fundamental strength. Truly great beings rarely succumb to such a state.’*

He thought “rarely,” but in truth, it was unheard of. Why would a being of perfected will ever fall? The complete do not waver, and those who do not waver do not descend into darkness. Therefore, this soul belonged to someone who had never reached their potential. The cursed souls were no better.

*‘It means the spirit was so fragile it was easily overwhelmed by a curse.’*

He expected nothing. The Goat’s offering was junk. Every other patron shared the sentiment. They were experts in the trade of spirits; they knew exactly what a ‘black soul’ represented.

*‘Tsk. He won’t even get a passing grade.’*

*‘How pathetic.’*

*‘Does he think this banquet is a joke?’*

The mockery was palpable. They had despised the Golden Goat from the moment he arrived. No one wanted a latecomer disrupting the balance, especially the one who had sabotaged the previous event. A high score would be nothing short of a miracle.

……At least, that was the consensus.

“What?”

“This is a mistake……!”

“Wait. Look at the numbers again!”

Eyes widened in shock as they stared at the score appearing in the air. It defied all logic.

**【666,666】**

Over six hundred thousand points!

It was more than double the Golden Mask’s own tally. This meant the value of that single, darkened soul was significantly higher than even the ‘giants of the Mythic Era.’

*‘……Impossible.’*

The Golden Mask stared at the rising digits. His eyes were not deceiving him. But his mind refused to process it. The ‘Great Will of the Moon’ provided a valuation that was absolute and objective. It was never wrong.

It *couldn’t* be wrong. Yet, he felt a desperate urge to find a flaw.

“Whose spirit is that?”

The question burned in everyone’s mind. They had to know the source of that darkened essence.

*Fwoooosh!*

The crimson glow of the moon flared with blinding intensity. The light descended like a spear, piercing the center of the hall and gathering every soul into a single, roaring pyre.

*Grrrrrooooaaar—!*

The massive conflagration flickered and shifted, taking the shape of a singular, towering entity. As the form took shape, it let out a piercing scream as it began to consume every other soul present.

No, that wasn’t right.

*‘Those aren’t the monster’s cries.’*

The patrons realized it simultaneously. It wasn’t the manifested creature screaming—it was the other souls being devoured by it. The sheer, overwhelming pressure of the black soul offered by the Golden Goat had forced even the legendary giants of the Mythic Era to shriek in terror as they were swallowed.

The patrons watched, their faces turning pale.

“……That silhouette……”

“……It can’t be.”

It was a shape ingrained in their nightmares. How could they fail to recognize that horror? It was their first time seeing the spirit in its raw form, but there was no mistaking it.

Finally, the Golden Mask found his voice, though it cracked with disbelief.

“How in the world did you manage to capture that soul……!”

It was a scream of pure, unadulterated shock. How could the Golden Goat possess the essence of that cursed calamity? For that soul belonged to the vanguard of ‘Destruction.’

The apex predator among monsters, the being that had inflicted the most profound despair and helplessness upon the world!

‘Despair.’

……The Four Evils, ‘Despair’ itself.