Chapter 149: Phantoms Have No Shadows, Shadows Have No Phantoms 4
*
Bival Vivality, the Bishop of the Makikomarkrow Diocese, had always felt that his position as Bishop was far too high for him.
Though perhaps not to the extent of Shara, he believed it wasn’t a position for a man like him, who had been forced out of the Healer Faction due to his poor Healing Magic skills.
Even after switching from the Healer Faction to the Monster Subjugation Faction, he hadn’t achieved anything remarkable.
The reason he formed a party with Comsas Dortwil, the current Margrave Makikomarkrow, wasn’t so much political as it was simply that a priest incapable of using Healing Magic had few options other than partnering with a noble.
His younger days were nothing but a cycle of defeating Monsters and praying.
For some reason, the previous Bishop took a liking to him, and before he knew it, he himself had become the Bishop.
There were many others more capable and suitable than him.
Bival thought this not out of humility, but others didn’t seem to share that assessment, and he was forced to be quite careful in his subsequent conduct.
He wanted to avoid attaining any position more unfitting than this at all costs.
With that single-minded determination, he even learned political maneuvering.
When he was ordered to transfer to Faltar, the Church’s headquarters, he thought his time was finally up.
But there, Bival encountered a genius.
A profound understanding of magic, the Divine Technique; a brilliant mind; a faith so intense and pure it bordered on martyrdom.
At the time, he was just a fifteen-year-old boy.
That was Cal Ulmschmitt.
Faced with this genius, Bival wholeheartedly supported his talent.
He guided him when he hesitated, pushed him forward when he wavered.
He taught him everything he knew, rejoicing in being able to contribute to this genius’s growth.
To be honest, there was also a calculation involved: he hoped that if people witnessed this brilliant talent, they would stop having expectations for an ordinary man like himself.
What was unexpected was that the more Bival pushed Cal, the higher his own reputation inexplicably rose.
Frankly, he panicked.
Many began to seriously speak of him, barely past thirty, as a candidate for the next Pope.
It made so little sense that he even felt fear.
He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs that he was someone who couldn’t even use Healing Magic properly.
Panicked by his rising reputation, which grew without his knowledge or control, Bival, aware that he was being too forceful, pushed through unreasonable demands and returned to Hecate.
Where does my faith lie, what is my purpose, what does it mean to martyr oneself for doctrine—? Spouting some plausible-sounding, outrageous arguments, he brushed aside all voices urging him to reconsider and returned to Hecate.
At that time, the one who most fervently tried to detain Bival was Cal Ulmschmitt.
The face of Cal he could still recall was the lonely expression he wore when he realized Bival could not be persuaded to change his mind.
For Bival, it was a distinct regret.
“It has been a long time, Bishop Bival.”
Now, upon this reunion, that memory weighed heavily on Bival’s mind.
“It has been a long time indeed, Your Holiness.”
Noting how much more mature he looked since they last parted, Bival bowed his head, feeling happy about his growth.
Cal Ulmschmitt, twenty-seven years old, the youngest Pope in history.
*
Serving tea to Pope Cal, who had come to his private room, Bival thought he could finally ask.
Ask the reason why the Pope had come to Hecate with the Maiden of Light.
When he had greeted them during the day, Margrave Comsas had been present, so he had anticipated that he wouldn’t be able to hear the real reason.
While not overly pronounced in the Margraviate of Makikomarkrow, there is typically a clear wall between the Church and the nobility.
Not too close, not too distant—rather, they keep an eye on each other while maintaining a step back.
A relationship mixed with strange tension and formality is what defines the Church and the nobility.
As expected, in front of Margrave Comsas, Cal had stated a reason that was inoffensive—not a lie, but not the whole truth either.
At least, that was how Bival understood it.
“You look well, Senpai. And you’re as skilled at brewing tea as ever.”
As Cal took a sip of tea and exhaled softly, calling him by the old term, Bival smiled inwardly.
He was simply happy.
“Thank you very much. However, Your Holiness, please refrain from calling me Senpai. I am merely a Bishop.”
Seeing the familiar sincerity in the face that had grown considerably more rugged since they last parted, Bival gently admonished him.
“Pope, Bishop—these are merely conveniences for organization, necessitated by our human nature. Before God, I believe we are all equal. If that is the case, why should I hesitate to call my senior ‘Senpai’?”
“Precisely because of that, we are human beings who cannot be united without organization. Should we not pay respect to the positions bestowed upon us?”
“It is a difficult matter, isn’t it?” Cal replied with a smile, but seeing a calmness akin to resignation, unfitting for his age, Bival felt a slight internal dismay.
Even the Church, which professes to be servants of God, is an organization created by humans.
With the intangible trust directed towards them by the people, and the offerings that accumulate into vast sums, there are many opportunities and temptations to stray from the path.
God exists, yet He does not watch over and guide absolutely everything.
Looking at the secular world, isn’t it filled with those who stray from the path of humanity yet are not punished by God?
If that is the case… Bival could not deny the human weakness that leads one to think such things.
Not everyone can, like the Research and Development Faction, pursue self-interest to the extreme and end up arriving at something completely different yet remarkably close to pure faith.
No, let’s set those deviants aside.
That is why we gather in the organization called the Church.
But does standing at its pinnacle inflict such a burden as to put that expression on that young man’s face?
“If you feel that way, Senpai, while it feels a little awkward, I can find joy in being called ‘Your Holiness’ by Bishop Bival. In fact, perhaps that is all I have left.”
Cal’s words, which could be taken to mean that his position in the Church was all he had left, surprised Bival, and he almost asked what he meant.
But the question died on his lips, silenced by the dry click of Cal closing the lid of the pendant he held in his hand.
The sole accessory signifying the Pope’s status.
The world’s smallest Divine Relic.
“We’ve mostly caught up on each other’s situations during the meeting earlier today.”
Cal released the pendant he had been fiddling with in front of his chest, his expression alone asking, Is there something you wish to ask?
His face, illuminated by the light, resembled that of an old man forced to carry an incredibly heavy burden.
Bival momentarily recoiled at that face.
The position of Pope that he himself had fled, and the boy who had become Pope as a result.
Bival couldn’t help but feel that a distinct line had been drawn between them.
“Your Holiness’s visit… could you please tell me the reason for it? Is it, perhaps… regarding the matter of Erika Solntsalri?”
If that were the case, Bival felt he must persuade the young man upon whom he had consequently forced the position of Pope.
He might be told, “What right does someone who ran away have to speak?”, and that would be the end of it.
Even so, calling that Erika Solntsalri an enemy of God was clearly a mistake.
If he didn’t correct that, then even the position of Bishop would prove he was unsuitable for it.
Even if the fact remained that he was unworthy, if he was to pay respect to the position bestowed upon him, he himself must be sincere in that role.
“It is true that the young lady is not unrelated, but…”
Cal’s eyes wandered in the air as if searching for words.
“In this case, she is not the main subject.”
Bival felt relieved.
At least the young lady wouldn’t be denounced as an enemy of God.
“Is the main subject fishing, perhaps? More accurately, checking the degree of fraying, I suppose.”
“Pardon?”
Bival couldn’t help but ask again at the Pope’s incomprehensible words.
The response he received was a smile.
The smile, like that of a weary old man, deflected all questions by itself.
“Never before have I wished so strongly that Bishop Bival were the Pope instead.”
What did that mean?
“Senpai, there is nothing further from faith than understanding.”
Stated with pleading eyes, wasn’t that a confession?
Cal gently placed the pendant hanging from his chest onto his palm.
“When I became a Bishop and learned what the Divine Relic was, I foolishly prayed.”
A troubled smile, as if at a loss.
It was a face he had seen many times during their Faltar days.
The crucial difference was the presence of “weariness,” which Cal hadn’t possessed back then.
“Praying for something to be so… this too is far removed from faith.”
That isn’t prayer or anything of the sort.
Something that doesn’t become a mere imposition of one’s desires cannot be called faith, the young Pope lamented.
Like a confession of sin.
Nevertheless, his eyes still held a firm Intellect, and his unwavering reason did not permit him to give up.
Click—the young Pope opened the pendant.
“I could not do it, Senpai. I couldn’t simply accept things like you did. I didn’t understand that standing upon an unwavering self—that that is what true faith is.”
That which was held within the pendant was dark red and dried, just like Hecate’s Divine Relic.
“If it were possible, I would yield the seat of Pope to you even now, Senpai. Because I believe that even knowing everything, you would have remained unchanged.”
What surfaced in the Pope’s eyes was unmistakable admiration, and because of it, Bival could not accept it head-on.
Haven’t I done something terribly cruel to this young man?
There was no one to answer that question.
The Divine Relic was dark red, like rust.