Chapter Six: Legal Status

At the same time, sensing the piercing aura erupting from the Pope’s Hall, the Saints throughout the Sanctuary all turned to look.

In the House of Taurus, Aldebaran sat on the steps, holding his helmet and muttering to himself, “What’s gotten into Shura all of a sudden? Making such a commotion in the Pope’s Hall!”

Even at such a distance, he could distinctly recognize that unique, razor-sharp cosmos—it was none other than Shura of Capricorn.

Fortunately, Shura was merely releasing his cosmos and hadn’t actually engaged in battle; otherwise, the few Gold Saints present would have wondered whether some villain had slipped onto the Sacred Mountain under their very noses.

In the Pope’s Hall, seeing Shura show such blatant disregard, the face beneath Alexis’s mask darkened as though covered in soot.

“Stubborn fool, incapable of flexibility!” he cursed in his heart.

The Gold Saint of Capricorn had always been the most devout follower of the Goddess among the Twelve Houses, a devotion etched into his very bones.

For the Goddess, he would unsheathe his sword against anyone.

Even his own comrades!

Knowing this well, Evil Saga dared not provoke Shura further. Forcing down his anger, he said, “Then what do you want?”

He was unwilling to fight Shura over such a trivial matter. If his identity were exposed and others found out, the consequences would be disastrous—a grave loss for a minor gain.

Shura withdrew his cosmos, his expression returning to its usual calm, as tranquil as a still pond. He spoke evenly, “With your abilities, you should have no trouble reading the child’s memories.”

“As for how to deal with him, it wouldn’t hurt to wait until you’ve verified his identity.”

“Fine,” the Pope replied.

Not wishing to argue further, the Pope rose from his throne, walked straight to where Yin Seventeen lay on the floor.

Beside him, Moses of Cetus lowered his eyes and mind, standing as still as a statue, feigning deafness to all that transpired within the Pope’s Hall.

After all, whether it was the Pope or Shura of Capricorn, neither was someone he could afford to offend.

All he could do was pretend to see and hear nothing.

Yin Seventeen watched as the Pope’s hand slowly reached toward him, unconsciously holding his breath, nerves stretched taut.

The final trial was at hand.

If he could pass this ordeal, he would have a legitimate and normal identity in this strange world. No one would ever question his origins again, and he would truly have a foothold here.

The Pope placed his palm atop Yin Seventeen’s head, igniting his cosmos as he attempted to read the boy’s memories.

A master of mental attacks, he could handle such a simple task with ease.

“Hm?”

The instant his cosmic power touched Yin Seventeen, a faint, strange fluctuation flashed by—so subtle that if he were not skilled in psychic senses, he would never have noticed it at all.

He frowned, focusing intently as he searched Yin Seventeen’s body, but found nothing.

The boy was just an ordinary person, not even having awakened the power of his cosmos.

“Was it merely my imagination?” he wondered, confused.

“Perhaps I’ve just been overworked with affairs of state lately and am a bit tired,” he consoled himself.

Finding nothing, he turned to reading Yin Seventeen’s memories instead.

He had no desire to get entangled with Shura over this; the sooner the matter was dealt with, the better.

In a moment, the boy’s entire past played out before his mind’s eye, clear and detailed like a theater performance.

After about a minute, the Pope withdrew his cosmos and returned to his throne.

“What’s the verdict?” Shura asked, his tone as emotionless as ever.

“He is merely a survivor of this disaster, entirely unrelated to any evil from beyond,” the Pope replied, a trace of irritation in his voice.

He had no reason to lie about a mere child.

Besides, he was not the only one in the Sanctuary capable of reading memories. If that stubborn Shura brought others to verify, the Pope’s authority would be utterly undermined.

That would seriously shake his rule.

“Is that so? Then I’ll be going,” Shura said, leaving the Pope’s Hall without a backward glance.

On the floor, hearing their exchange, Yin Seventeen felt both surprised and relieved.

Clearly, the Pope had not read his true memories.

His guess had been correct.

As one of the “chosen ones,” the mysterious power that had brought him to this world had arranged everything for him the moment he arrived.

Now, his official identity was that of a survivor of this disaster.

As for who he truly was, that secret would remain buried deep in his heart, never to be revealed to another soul.

When Shura’s footsteps faded, Moses finally looked up. “Your Holiness, shall we—”

Before he could finish, the Pope waved a hand in exasperation.

“Out. Don’t trouble me again!”

After Shura’s outburst, his mood was foul.

If not for the need to maintain the dignity of his office, he would have been sorely tempted to slaughter the two troublesome visitors on the spot.

“Yes, Your Holiness!”

Seeing his anger, Moses wiped the cold sweat from his brow, then hurriedly led Yin Seventeen out of the Pope’s Hall.

The two of them retraced their steps, heading down the mountain.

As they passed the House of Capricorn, Yin Seventeen bowed from a distance.

“Thank you, my lord!”

Had Shura not intervened in time, he would have died in the Pope’s Hall for no reason at all.

Shura said nothing, standing silently in the dim temple, his golden armor shining with a quiet brilliance.

“Come, let’s not disturb Lord Shura,” Moses whispered, unwilling to linger in the solemn shrine.

“Alright.”

Yin Seventeen followed, heading for the exit of the House of Capricorn.

Shura remained where he was, gazing thoughtfully at their departing figures.

Before long, Yin Seventeen and Moses had passed out of the House of Aries.

Descending the mountain was much easier than climbing up.

Moses let out a long, relieved sigh, then sat heavily on the ground.

The atmosphere atop the Sacred Mountain was so solemn and awe-inspiring that even a Saint like him did not wish to remain too long.

It was not that he disliked the air of sanctity, but rather that its oppressive majesty stifled his very nature, as though a mountain weighed upon his heart.

It must be what people mean by “divine majesty, as weighty as a mountain.”

Yin Seventeen asked cautiously, “Sir Moses, if I want to join the Sanctuary and fight for Lady Athena’s justice, what procedures do I need to follow?”

“So eager to join the Sanctuary, are you? Becoming a Saint isn’t nearly as simple as you think, young man,” Moses replied with a helpless glance.

Each year, countless youths from around the world came to the Sanctuary, hoping to become Athena’s Saints.

Alas, only a handful ever succeeded.

Most left disappointed—or else “remained forever” in the Sanctuary.

“But... but...” Yin Seventeen’s eyes brimmed with tears. “My home is gone, and I have no family or friends left.”

“Other than remaining in the Sanctuary, I have nowhere else to go!”

Moses scratched his head. The boy was truly homeless.

So young, so incapable of fending for himself—if left to his own devices, he would surely perish before long.

As a Saint of Athena, Moses could not bear to see such an outcome.

Especially since he had personally brought this youth to the Sanctuary.

He had to see him properly settled, to live up to the justice of the Goddess.

“Very well, I’ll take you to the Sanctuary’s warrior training camp and get you registered!”