Chapter 153: The Holy Relic Doesn’t Lie [Part 1]

We released our handshake.

Darius maintained his pleasant smile, completely unaware that he’d just accepted a rather special gift from me. After everything he’d done to Rey Valen, I was finally returning the favor. His gaze shifted toward the long staff in my left hand. "Rey, is that a new staff?"

"Not mine," I answered before he could ask anything else.

He blinked. "Oh?"

"The Holy Guardians couldn’t find a horse for me in Lumenford. And since they insisted on escorting me despite the fact that I can fly, we ended up buying this thing."

I lifted the staff slightly. "A C-Rank artifact. Quite comfortable, actually. Although I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone with a fear of heights."

Darius chuckled. "That sounds like quite an unusual journey."

"You have no idea."

I extended the staff toward a nearby priest.

The priest accepted it respectfully. Then, almost immediately, a faint golden light spread across his fingers. I watched with mild amusement as he examined the staff, his mana flowing through the wood and inspecting the magical formations embedded within it.

A corruption inspection.

Apparently, the Light Temple couldn’t even accept a borrowed staff without checking whether it contained forbidden magic. Unfortunately for him, he wouldn’t find anything. I’d already dismissed every trace of my Forbidden Energy. And when I’d reinforced the staff earlier, I hadn’t injected Forbidden Energy into its structure. I’d simply used my own VoidWind Manipulation to support and levitate it.

The staff itself remained an ordinary C-Rank artifact.

The priest finished his inspection and lowered his hand. His expression remained neutral.

I smiled. "Still checking everything, I see."

Darius followed my gaze. "This is the Light Temple, after all. Just standard procedure."

"Of course." I nodded thoughtfully. "Wouldn’t want anything dangerous slipping through your doors."

"Exactly." He laughed.

I turned my attention toward the staircase. "Anyway, why exactly have you invited me here?"

Darius’s smile softened. "Elia has been worried about you."

I glanced toward the beautiful woman waiting near the upper steps.

Elia Seren stood beneath the golden light of the cathedral, her white ceremonial gown falling gracefully around her slender figure. Her long hair shimmered beneath the afternoon sun, while the gentle expression on her face seemed almost painfully innocent.

The perfect Saintess.

"Come to me, Rey," she called softly. Her voice carried across the courtyard, drawing the attention of the surrounding believers.

I glanced around. The crowd hadn’t dispersed. Quite the opposite. More people had gathered near the outer courtyard, watching from behind the Holy Knights stationed along the marble pathways. Some whispered my name. Others looked toward Elia with obvious admiration. And several Temple priests stood nearby, their expressions carefully composed.

I walked toward her. The six Holy Guardians remained behind me, their formation becoming noticeably more formal as I approached the staircase.

Vera watched silently. Darius followed a few steps behind.

I wore the pleasant expression of a man who had absolutely nothing to hide.

"Rey." Elia smiled when I stopped before her. "I’ve been so worried about you."

"Have you?"

"Of course." She placed one hand against her chest. "You suffered terribly during our final battle against the Dark Lord. Your injuries were severe, and afterward, we barely had an opportunity to speak." Her eyes were filled with concern. Her voice was gentle. Even the slight downward curve of her lips looked carefully designed to inspire sympathy. If I hadn’t inherited Rey Valen’s memories, I might actually have believed her.

"I’ve been terribly busy with the Temple’s responsibilities," she continued. "But I never stopped thinking about your condition."

I smiled politely. "That’s considerate of you."

Elia’s expression brightened. "I’m glad you understand."

Oh, I understood. Perfectly. There was a part of me that desperately wanted to stop pretending, to laugh in their faces, to tell the entire courtyard exactly what kind of self-righteous bastards stood before them.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the plan. The Mad Magus. The corrupted monster. The villain who had supposedly lost his humanity. Those identities were reserved for my enemies. Not the public. I wanted those people to see what happened here. Because I wanted Darius and Elia to experience what Rey had endured. The helplessness of knowing the truth while nobody believed him. The isolation of being condemned by people who had once depended on him. The agony of watching his reputation collapse while every attempt to defend himself was dismissed.

Revenge wasn’t particularly satisfying if the victim never understood why they were suffering.

I looked directly at Elia. "So, what do you want?"

She blinked and smiled. "Just a simple examination."

"An examination?" I asked, pretending to be confused.

"Yes." She clapped twice. Several priestesses emerged from the cathedral entrance, accompanied by four Holy Knights. And behind them came another priest. He carried a crystal mounted upon a golden pedestal.

My eyes immediately locked onto it.

The Holy Relic.

A translucent crystal rested within a frame of intertwined golden branches. Its surface glowed with soft white radiance, while countless microscopic inscriptions shimmered beneath its crystalline layers.

Even from this distance, I could sense the extraordinary concentration of Light Mana within it.

My heartbeat quickened slightly. Not from fear. Excitement. In Evan Veyr’s era, thousands of years in the future, this relic had remained virtually unchanged.

Elia gestured toward the relic. "I simply want to make sure there’s no corrupted energy remaining inside your body."

I slowly turned toward her. "You’re speaking as though I’m already corrupted."

Her smile faltered slightly. "Rey, that’s not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

Darius stepped forward. "It’s merely a precaution."

I looked toward Darius. He wasn’t watching my face anymore. His gaze had shifted downward. Toward my hands. My white gloves.

I suppressed a smile.

"Rey," he said slowly. "Those gloves. You weren’t wearing those the last time we met."

"People change their clothes, Darius."

His expression remained serious. "They resemble the enchanted gloves you wore when we recovered the Dark Lord’s artifacts."

A familiar memory stirred. The original Rey had indeed worn enchanted white gloves while handling several dangerous artifacts recovered after the war.

Why?

Because his companions had preferred that he handle them. After all, Rey had already been exposed to the Dark Lord’s corruption. What difference would a little more exposure make?

Naturally, nobody had phrased it that way. They’d offered perfectly reasonable explanations. Rey possessed superior magical knowledge. Rey was the most qualified to handle dangerous artifacts. They’d found so many innocent reasons to let him shoulder the risks. And he’d accepted because he had no choice.