"All eight of us must invoke the Classified Information Agreement, Article 27, Clause 36. Any objections, raise your hand," Alphonse, tall, gaunt, and ancient, proposed.
"What the hell is Article 27, Clause 36 of the Classified Information Agreement?" Holy Son Connor Daller muttered, rifling through the papers on the table, while the Pope's face drained of color.
"We have to wipe our memories too?" the Pope rasped, voice hoarse.
"Yes. Let's vote," Alphonse said, his face a blank mask.
Among those present, only Holy Son shakily raised his hand in opposition. The motion passed.
"This is to protect you, and to protect us. The less you know, the safer you are. I'll erase your memories, and then my own. Don't worry—once everyone's memories are gone, we won't even remember we did this. No lingering scars in your mind."
The Divine Commandants nodded silently, clearly used to this kind of thing.
"Hold on, do I have to lose my memories too?" EeDechi raised her hand.
"No need. The eight of us refer to the Pope, Holy Son, and the six Divine Commandants," Alphonse replied gently.
"Alright then." EeDechi let out a relieved breath. As an outsider who barely knew anything, the Slane Theocracy had no reason to mess with her memories.
EeDechi still had no clue what kind of scheme the Divine Commandants were cooking up in secret, and Alphonse wasn't about to spill the beans. Whenever she pressed him, he'd just flash a smile and dodge the question.
…
The secret meeting wrapped up, and everyone started teleporting or blinking out of the room one by one. Just before leaving, Holy Son Connor Daller came stomping over, jabbing a finger at EeDechi and boasting that he was the true Divine Envoy, destined to grow way stronger.
"One day, I'll be smarter than you, stronger than you!" Connor Daller craned his little neck, throwing shade at EeDechi with all the venom he could muster.
EeDechi rolled up her sleeves, ready to teach this brat some manners, but Alphonse stepped in just in time to stop her.
Sure, EeDechi was dead certain she could beat the snot out of this spoiled Holy Son even if he lived another hundred years, but the kid was the top pick for "next Pope." A Divine Envoy pounding the future Pope into the ground? Yeah, that wouldn't fly.
EeDechi tied a silk scarf over her face and strolled out of the grand central temple in the capital alongside Alphonse. They ran straight into a red-robed man hustling by.
The guy was middle-aged, his body gone soft with extra weight. He gripped a staff in his left hand and clutched a thick, black-leather book in his right. When he spotted Alphonse, his face twisted like he'd swallowed something sour.
"Mr. Moreau, why the hell wasn't I invited to the secret meeting?" the man demanded, his chubby face sagging, voice dripping with resentment.
Alphonse shook his head lightly. "Sorry, Cardinal Archbishop, all I can say is your clearance isn't high enough, and your faith in the gods isn't devout enough."
The Cardinal Archbishop's face darkened. "The Divine Commandant from the Holocaust Scripture was absent—why couldn't I take his place? It's laughable that you'd question my faith. My study of the holy texts is unmatched, and I've served the gods for forty years.
"On the other hand, you—your Clearwater Scripture's been letting in all sorts of half-assed believers. Take Daniel Christian, for example. I'm pretty damn sure he's flirting with heresy. When the great judgment comes, he'll be the first one purged!"
Alphonse waved him off and turned to leave, done with the argument. EeDechi followed him out of the temple, descending the wide marble steps that stretched down to the central district.
"Who's this Cardinal Archbishop? Seems like a total zealot."
EeDechi regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. "Zealot" wasn't exactly a compliment, and in a theocracy, fanatical believers were par for the course. For all she knew, Alphonse might be a "mild" zealot, while the Cardinal Archbishop was just an extreme one.
"His name's Josiah Carey. I worked with him for five years. His faith in the Six Great Gods is devout, no question. But I think he worships their power, not the spirit of their mission to protect humanity."
Alphonse and EeDechi descended the stone steps, and he paused for a moment, smiling. "Thanks to your influence, I'm sure Daniel's faith is rock-solid now."
"Yeah, Daniel's faith won't waver again." Because he's a full-blown atheist now. EeDechi kept that thought to herself.
Mulling over what mattered most to her, she changed the subject. "You mentioned before that the Theocracy has divine artifacts—magical relics left by the Six Great Gods. Can you show me one?"
"Of course, no problem," Alphonse said kindly. They reached a secluded corner, and EeDechi placed a hand on his shoulder. In a flash, they teleported away.
…
Alphonse and EeDechi slipped through a hidden door beneath a church, descending into a dim underground tunnel. Their footsteps echoed lonely in the stone-walled passage.
EeDechi lagged a step behind, her fingers grazing the stone wall, leaving faint imprints as she pressed lightly.
"You once said you were tight with the God of Death, right?" Alphonse asked.
"Something like that," EeDechi replied, brushing off the question.
Alphonse led the way. "I'm taking you to see the artifact the God of Death valued most. Before returning to the divine realm, the God of Death left an oracle, commanding the people of the Slane Theocracy to guard it well. We've kept it safe, not a scratch on it."
The God of Death's most prized possession? EeDechi's mind raced—had to be some insanely powerful magical artifact.
"Alphonse." A weathered voice halted Alphonse and EeDechi.
They turned toward the sound and saw a blind old woman, her back hunched, standing at the shadowy corner of the tunnel. EeDechi recalled she was the Divine Commandant of the Windflower Scripture.
"Greetings, Divine Envoy," the old woman said, bowing to EeDechi. "Alphonse, can we speak alone for a moment?"
Alphonse nodded slightly and stepped over to the old woman, both of them vanishing into the shadows.
EeDechi leaned against the wall, bored out of her mind. A faint murmur of conversation drifted to her ears. Though the speakers kept their voices low, EeDechi's sharp senses picked up every word.
"Alphonse, this is the investigation report on the Divine Envoy. Take a look," the old woman said, her voice a gravelly whisper.
The rustle of pages turning followed. Alphonse was flipping through some kind of book or scroll.
"The Divine Envoy and her two subordinates attacked and killed several of our cavalry near Berdystch's wastelands. The next day, they robbed your Scarab expedition team. These aren't the actions of a noble Divine Envoy. I don't think this so-called Divine Envoy is trustworthy."
Alphonse stopped turning the pages and said softly: "I looked into that cavalry unit. They've got a bad rep. The squad leader was an ugly woman who used her power and strength to abuse plenty of men. Franco, the mage under the Divine Envoy, is a good-looking guy. It's no surprise they clashed when they crossed paths."
"But robbing the Scarab expedition team afterward? That was deliberate," the old woman hissed, her voice barely a whisper. "And the Divine Envoy's been digging up info on the Eight Greed Kings' desert. What are they doing heading there? Do they know about what we're after?"
"I believe… the robbery was just a spur-of-the-moment thing for the Divine Envoy," Alphonse argued, though his voice lacked conviction.
The old woman spoke slowly, each word deliberate. "Our plan is a matter of life and death for the Slane Theocracy. Whether our nation can stand independent under Ainz Ooal Gown's iron grip depends on its success. We can't afford a single mistake."
"You're right," Alphonse conceded, persuaded on the spot.
…
Alphonse stepped out from the corner and told EeDechi that the magical wards sealing the divine artifact weren't undone yet, so he couldn't show her the God of Death Surshana's most prized relic today.
EeDechi knew it was an excuse but didn't press the issue. They headed out of the tunnel together.
Before leaving the underground passage, EeDechi glanced back at the dark depths, a sly glint in her eyes.
All along the way, she'd subtly pressed her fingers into the stone walls with her immense strength, leaving faint, nearly invisible imprints. The marks were so subtle that low-level folks wouldn't notice them, but to a level-100 powerhouse like her, the fingerprints were as clear as day.
These were her markers. When the night grew quiet, the Last Defender of the Way adventuring party would come here to "treasure hunt."