Chapter 144

The Taste of Power

Fenrir spat out the corpse it had been carrying in its mouth, then scraped its tongue in disgust.

The blood of those cultists made it feel nauseated.

"Lucy, I really can't figure out what you're trying to do anymore!"

In its eyes, the silver-haired little one before it was merely playing around.

A priest?

Even if she seized the leverage to make him completely obedient, it would have little impact on the Nightmare Faith as a whole.

After all, to an Outer God, so-called bishops or archbishops were nothing more than a word away.

Lucy, however, was carefully inspecting the Saint Radiance mark on the corpse’s forehead.

It was an emblem resembling an apple, similar to the Saint Radiance of the Scales, both outlined with golden threads.

Unfortunately, due to Morris's blow, the emblem was already shattered beyond recognition and held no research value.

But the reason she had Fenrir bring the corpse back wasn't merely for the Saint Radiance.

"Of course I’m not trying to control a priest. I want to make him a bishop—one who willingly offers up his soul."

Willingly offers up his soul?!

The canine tilted its head, unable to comprehend how this connected to the Star Law Institute’s mission.

Still, it didn’t really concern Him either way.

"Suit yourself... I’m going to get some sleep. Call me if anything comes up."

...

The disappearance of Bishop Anthony quickly caused an uproar within the Nightmare Faith's cathedral in Steel City.

Both the knights and the servants went mad searching everywhere, but that was the extent of it.

Just as Fenrir had said, no one would suspect a failure who had been weak for over ten years—even if this very failure had been Anthony’s greatest rival.

Once he confirmed no one was coming for him, Morris finally let his heart settle.

Not only had he reestablished contact with Madam Dana, he also took over many of the duties that once belonged to the bishop.

Morris, as if in a dream, stamped documents of all kinds.

He issued the bishop’s edict admitting Madam Dana into the order, approved a new missionary location, and even rejected two priests’ promotion applications...

This gave him a taste of what power truly felt like.

After finishing his day’s work, he slipped—almost involuntarily—into the small chapel reserved for the bishop.

Bathed in the light filtered through stained glass, he sneaked a sip of Anthony’s treasured mead, using the bishop’s golden chalice.

As the sweet, cloying liquid slid down his throat, he suddenly understood why Anthony had always loved drinking here—this sense of transgression was more intoxicating than the alcohol itself.

He nearly forgot he had killed Anthony, and that the cathedral knights responsible for investigating the matter could show up at any moment.

The next day, while he was still immersed in a beautiful dream—

Knock knock knock!~

This time, he did not show anger, but instead opened the priest's bedroom door with a smile, just like a real bishop.

Standing outside was the same servant as before.

The servant looked flustered. “Priest Morris, sir... the cathedral’s investigation knights have arrived!”

Morris’s smile froze. The long-forgotten fear surged up in an instant.

Once the reporting servant left, he could barely remain standing, the boldness of the past few days vanishing without a trace.

“You’re getting far too nervous,”

Fenrir’s voice rang out at just the right moment. Morris, as if grasping a lifeline, wailed, “My lord, please save me!”

Fenrir looked at him with disgust, as if he were staring at a maggot in a latrine.

This man had inherited nearly all of humanity’s worst traits.

Cowardice, arrogance, greed, selfishness...

A person like this—once dead—would have his soul thrown into a vat of boiling oil.

“Calm down. The way you’re acting right now is practically announcing to the whole world that you’re the killer.”

“But the truth is, no one even suspects you. After all, if they truly did, it wouldn’t be a servant knocking on your door—it would be the knight order.”

Fenrir’s tone was laced with mockery, but Morris didn’t mind at all. On the contrary, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

Because he, too, felt that Fenrir was right—no one suspected him of murder.

...

In the courtyard of the cathedral, a tall figure cloaked in crimson was examining Anthony’s study.

When Morris arrived—

“Morris, long time no see.”

"You’re… Algernon! You actually became the captain of the cathedral knights!"

Algernon had been a fellow believer from the same cohort as Morris. The difference was that Morris had remained in the branch church, while Algernon had been selected to join the cathedral and became a temple knight.

...

Inside the priest’s office.

Algernon stood tall in the armor that signified his rank as captain of the knights, looking down proudly at his former “colleague.”

“Fifteen years have passed, and you’re still holed up in this musty little priest’s room?” He suddenly sneered, flipping the golden chalice upside down onto Morris’s chest. “Still stealing the bishop’s cup just to drink?”

A chill ran down Morris’s entire body. It was only now that he realized he’d forgotten to return the bishop’s holy chalice.

But fortunately, Algernon didn’t seem to suspect anything else. His eyes held only contempt and ridicule.

“I... I’m just handling some clerical duties while Bishop Anthony is missing,” he explained, stiff-necked.

Algernon scoffed. “Afraid of what? Everyone knows you’ve been dying to become bishop, you coward.”

“And that guy’s already dead. His flame of life in the cathedral has gone out.”

Morris widened his eyes, trying to make himself look as surprised as possible.

“The bishop is dead?! Who killed him?”

“Who knows,” Algernon shrugged. “But most likely it was those damned witches. They’ve clearly started targeting Anthony.”

In recent days, several bishops of the Faith had already been killed by witches. This was one of the reasons Algernon had no suspicion of Morris whatsoever.

“But your chance has come, Morris,” the captain said with a smile. “You’re the most senior priest not just in Steel City, but in the entire Nightmare Faith.”

Morris’s eyes widened.

“You mean... I can become bishop?!”

His voice was filled with uncontrollable excitement.

Had he known this would be the outcome, he would’ve killed that bastard Anthony long ago.

“Pfft—As if! Hahaha!”

Algernon’s laughter turned Morris’s face pale. “I’ll be recommending a new bishop for the Steel City cathedral to the archbishop. You, you worthless piece of trash, are only fit to be a priest for the rest of your life! Hahaha... Oh, and make sure tonight’s welcoming banquet is properly extravagant. I heard your mistress is quite the beauty—don’t forget to bring her along—”

Morris stood in place, feeling as if something deep in his mind had snapped.

Amid the laughter, Algernon pushed open the door and left the priest’s quarters. It seemed as though he had come just to mock him.

That evening’s banquet turned into a form of torture. Morris chewed mechanically on venison, tasting nothing but blood.

After the final guest had left, he shattered every crystal goblet in the dining hall.

“They all know I’m the most senior one!” Wine dripped from his chin, soaking into his priest’s robe. “Fifteen years! I’ve served the Lord of Desires for fifteen years!”

Fenrir’s voice rose from the shadows. “Do you really believe what that lousy book says about fairness?”

“All who are devout shall receive grace! All who give shall be rewarded with glory!” Morris didn’t seem to hear him, simply repeating lines from the Holy Tome of Thorn.

“Then why did Anthony become bishop in just seven years?” Fenrir’s sneer slithered into his ears like a venomous serpent.

“It must be... it must be that I wasn’t devout enough!” Morris choked out the words, trying to give himself a reason but even he couldn’t believe it.

“In that case, why don’t we make a bet? Give Algernon the deed to your manor and that chest of gold coins,” Fenrir’s voice suddenly turned seductive, “If you truly believe the Lord of Desires is fair...”