Chapter 650: The Collaboration of the Defiant

When such a blasphemous statement came from Veronica—who had always presented herself as devout—Gawain felt an indescribable unease. And after hearing those words, he noticed something else: the subtle sense of discord wasn’t just about her “dehumanization.” There was something more… alien about this saintly princess.

Though her outward appearance remained unchanged, and her manner of speech and behavior were much the same as before, there were subtle shifts in her aura—details so slight they were almost imperceptible. It was still Veronica, but inside… she seemed fundamentally different.

Gawain couldn’t quite put into words what this almost intangible difference was, especially since his understanding of Veronica was limited. But he suspected that the change was connected to the ancient figure she claimed to be—“Ophelia Norton.”

“What are you thinking about?” Veronica—or rather, the ancient being calling herself Ophelia—asked gently, noticing Gawain’s silence.

“I’m trying to understand what exactly you are,” Gawain said frankly. “An ancient soul that keeps reincarnating? Residing in this body? Did you replace the original Veronica Morn at some point? Where is the original Veronica now? Or… did she ever truly exist?”

“Is that question so important to you?” The woman’s expression remained calm and serene. “Kamail is right beside you—a mage from the Age of Starlight who has survived until now. From a strange and bizarre perspective, even he, whose life form has fundamentally changed, should be more unbelievable than us, shouldn’t he?”

“But I trust Kamail. I can’t just trust you outright,” Gawain replied. “That’s why this question matters. You keep so many secrets and reveal so little. You’ve operated under another identity for so long, and now this sudden contact with me feels… abrupt. I need to understand your origins and your true purpose in approaching me. Why me? And how are you so sure I’d cooperate?”

“If you care so much…” Veronica/Ophelia smiled faintly. “Then it’s not wrong to see us as a stubborn soul lingering in this world, unwilling to fade away. I do reside in this body, but I did not replace her. Long before this body was born, before her personality even emerged, we had already taken residence. So you can consider me the original Veronica Morn, because I have lived her entire life—only with a longer, older memory layered beneath.”

“We are indeed different from the ancient mage at your side. We have been active in this world for many years and are well aware of the changes in the human kingdoms. That’s why your appearance intrigues us… To be frank, in our long observation, there are few true ‘variables’—and you are one of them.”

“Our observations and experiments on the Holy Light Church have reached a conclusion. This project will yield no further gains. But we hope to take the next step with you. As for why we chose you… you have already accepted a defiant one, haven’t you? Moreover, you are promoting new doctrines in the southern territories. Frankly, what you are pushing aligns with our goals. We have reason to cooperate.”

“Whether you choose to cooperate is your decision. Whatever you decide, we will accept it. I can only say this: if you choose to trust us, you will be rewarded in kind. If not, we will move on to other projects.”

Gawain looked at Veronica/Ophelia quietly, naturally resting his hand on the hilt of the Pathfinder’s Sword. “What if I just kill you right here? You’re a huge unstable factor. I might very well do that.”

“This fifty-five-kilogram mass of biomass is an acceptable loss for us,” the woman said calmly. “And there is no need for you to do so.”

“Indeed,” Gawain raised an eyebrow. “Then what exactly do ‘you’ want to cooperate on? What do you want from me, and what can I gain? Most importantly… is all this just part of one of your experiments?”

“We are interested in the southern doctrine you and High Priest Leight founded. We are also interested in the White Knights’ technology. We are willing to help you reform the Holy Light Church based on the southern doctrine. That would be your greatest gain. What we want from you is simply the technological feedback generated in the process. Knowledge is the only thing of value to us now. We ask for nothing else.”

“But you’ll be doing some ‘extra things’ while gathering knowledge,” Gawain glanced around the Great Hall of Light, his gaze finally resting on the empty papal throne. “You’re not going to tell me these people all died because of divine intervention, are you?”

“Eradicating these ‘bridges to the gods’ is part of our plan of defiance. It will not happen to you. And frankly, I lack the power to threaten you—you are not a believer in the God of the Holy Light. The platinum scepter I hold is just an ordinary artifact to you,” Veronica said plainly. “Of course, I can be honest about one more thing: cooperating with you is indeed a new project by our standards.”

After a brief pause, she smiled gently. “Every project carries the risk of failure—but cooperation itself requires accepting that risk, doesn’t it?”

“…I’ll consider it and give you an answer soon,” Gawain said after a two-second silence, locking eyes with the “Saintly Princess.” “This might benefit us both. But to build more trust, I hope we keep as few secrets from each other as possible. And if I find you pose a potential threat to the Cecile Empire, I will eliminate you immediately.”

“I understand your concerns,” Veronica/Ophelia bowed her head slightly. “Mutual trust is the goal we both strive for.”

Gawain took a slow breath and exhaled. “Then we should discuss how to handle the martyrdom of the Pope and the entire bishopric. There are tens of thousands of Holy Light believers in this city. All the churches on the Spirit Plains are influenced by the Great Cathedral—soon, everyone will know what happened inside.”

Veronica/Ophelia looked up. “Do you have a plan?”

“Pope Saint Ivan III was called to the Lord after the divine descent ritual. Before he left, he heard a divine oracle. The contents…” Gawain glanced at her. “I’ll have someone send it to you later.”

Veronica/Ophelia’s eyebrows lifted slightly but quickly returned to their usual calm and gentle expression. “Please try to keep it moderate. In places where the old scriptures have the deepest influence, change must be gradual.”

Gawain nodded casually and turned toward the hall’s exit.

Before stepping out, he glanced back and asked one last question: “When you say ‘humanity will endure forever,’ do you mean all humans, or just a selected few?”

“Is that question important too?”

“Very important.”

There was a brief silence behind him before a slow voice replied:

“Perhaps not all can survive in this harsh world, but every sacrifice only proves our failure.”

That seemed to be the defiant one’s answer.

Gawain nodded slightly and walked out of the luminous hall.

Veronica watched him leave quietly, then after a long moment, turned and walked deeper into the hall.

“He may have noticed the anomaly in this interface… The newly downloaded personality data hasn’t fully stabilized.”
“But the communication goal has been achieved.”
“It’s uncertain whether this contact will yield positive results…”
“Positive assessment: beneficial—and our time is running out.”
“At least there will be no loss…”

The soft self-talk seemed to split into multiple voices, echoing quietly through the Great Hall of Light before fading into silence.

Back at Silverkeep, Gawain immediately summoned Amber, who was on standby.

“Whoa… you look seriously scary,” Amber exclaimed the moment she saw him. “You were just going to a church… what happened over there? Did the entire bishopric in the cathedral get wiped out or something?”

Amber happily launched into a stream of chatter, taking every chance to poke fun at the Northern Holy Light Church. But when Gawain spoke, she froze.

“The bishopric was wiped out during the divine descent ritual.”

“…What?”

“Pope Saint Ivan III also died during the ritual. The news will be announced tomorrow.”

“…What?!”

“Currently, only the high-ranking clergy below the bishops remain in the cathedral, along with Veronica Morn—the only living saint.”

“Holy crap…” Amber finally snapped out of it, eyes wide. “Hey, I was just joking earlier—you didn’t have to play along so seriously… This can’t be real, right?”

“I’m not you. I don’t joke about things like this,” Gawain shot her a look. “Zip it. I have a mission for you.”

Amber quickly closed her mouth, still rubbing her face in disbelief. “Okay, what is it?”

“Check the royal family’s daily records in Silverkeep. Look up all information on Veronica Morn, especially from her childhood,” Gawain said. “Also, investigate how the Holy Light Church accepted her conversion, including her baptism records.”

Amber’s expression finally turned serious. She nodded. “Got it.”

Seeing her solemn face, Gawain hesitated for a moment, then suddenly asked, “Found any leads yet?”

Amber blinked, then realized what he meant. She hadn’t had time to dig deep yet. “I just asked a few court scholars who manage heraldry, but no one has ever heard of the surname ‘Randolf’…”

The lead he sought was Amber’s foster father—the shadowy operative with the surname “Sari-Randolf.”

That name, an uncommon noble surname, was Amber’s only clue about her foster father. A shadow extraordinary with noble blood, yet he died in a remote southern borderland, condemned by both the church and local nobles. The secrets behind that were baffling—even Pittman seemed unaware of the full story.

Gawain had promised to help Amber find clues about her foster father in Saint Suniel. Now that he had arrived—albeit in an unexpected way—it was time to fulfill that promise.

“Your foster father might be from a long-fallen noble line, or someone stripped of his name decades ago. More likely, he’s from an unacknowledged ‘shadow nobility.’ Heraldry scholars mostly know about legitimate families, so it’s normal they haven’t heard of him,” Gawain reassured Amber. “No rush. We have time. Start with the royal library in Silverkeep. It holds genealogies of all Ansu dynasty nobles, even the most obscure and impoverished. If that fails, check the Morn family’s secret archives—there might be clues there.”

“Hopefully…” Amber murmured. “But even if we don’t find anything… it’s been so many years.”

“But you still care, don’t you? I care too—about whether your foster father’s surname links to an old friend’s branch, about what kind of book was so important that an extraordinary had to steal it from a church,” Gawain smiled. “Just think of it as helping me out. Look into the Sari-Randolf lead.”

“Sure, but you owe me some extra pay for that.”

Gawain was taken aback. “…Isn’t that a bit too shameless of you?”

(End of chapter)