Chapter 26: Never Forget

In the icy judgment hall, two cardinals stood silently facing each other.

It was not raining outside, but the atmosphere between them was far from harmonious.

“You don’t need to look at me like that—I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Cardinal Rust Nail stepped slowly from the shadows, the rivets piercing his body clinking softly with each step, emitting an eerie rhythm.

“The sealed artifact stirred; the Grand Archbishop personally took charge and ordered us to find the corrupted cultivators—this is something both of us know well.”

“He is an outsider, and his suspicion is the greatest. I didn’t arrest him outright—merely probing him covertly is already me holding back out of respect for you.”

Though Herbert had little awareness of it, his status was in fact highly unusual in the eyes of the monastery’s high ranks.

Second son of the Duke of Silver Wing.

The monastery had seen nobles among its ranks before, but they were mostly destitute nobles with nowhere else to turn, or minor nobles forcibly sent here for reformation after breaking the precepts.

Herbert was the only noble in nearly two centuries to voluntarily apply to join the Mist Monastery.

And he was a powerful heir of a kingdom’s true noble family!

As for whether he truly committed the crime of “desecrating the Princess,” everyone knew the truth—no one treated him as a criminal.

Not to mention his later Oath of Purity, which powerfully proved this point.

He was innocent.

But regardless of whether Herbert was pure, he remained a unique presence, impossible to treat equally with others.

Was he truly framed?

Or did he harbor other intentions?

The Frost Crystal Kingdom had long sought to extend its hand into the Mist Monastery; attempting to install a bishop with royal backing was nothing new.

The monastery’s high ranks understood the royal family’s scheming, yet chose not to intervene—effectively tacitly approving their maneuvers.

Monks transcend worldly matters, dedicating their remaining lives to order, fighting for justice.

But this did not mean complete isolation; monks could not fully sustain themselves and still required outside support.

Though the monastery held reverence for the gods and accepted their blessings, it was not their servant.

The Mist Monastery was not a divine church; it did not specially worship any one deity, nor did it wage war for them—only for justice and order in the world.

Even divine churches needed donations from believers to function; the monastery, with no worshippers, needed them even more.

The monastery accepted noble donations, and at times dispatched knight-monks to help them resolve minor issues.

Of course, only those not involving principle.

Such as suppressing banditry ravaging territories, hunting demonic beasts threatening villagers, or guarding the human-demon borderlands.

The monastery did not wish the kingdom’s hand to reach too far—maintaining the status quo was enough.

That was why, after becoming a Holy Knight, Herbert was immediately sent to the Alien Prison as warden.

The position seemed prestigious—responsible for guarding important alien prisoners—but he had little contact with other monks, making emotional bonds impossible.

A promotion in name, demotion in reality; outwardly glorious, yet utterly powerless—perfect for suppressing certain developments.

Yet none of the monastery’s high ranks had foreseen that this very post suited Herbert’s desires perfectly.

All alien young ladies—he couldn’t be happier.

“But he is no longer an outsider.”

Cardinal Thorn sighed softly, his voice low: “From the moment he swore his oath before the gods and received their blessing, he became one of us.”

After Thorn finished speaking, Rust Nail stared at him silently with dead fish eyes for a long while before slowly saying:

“...You yourself agreed with my approach before. Don’t act as if I’m deliberately targeting him.”

“Hmph! I don’t care about that.”

Thorn’s expression didn’t change; he waved a large hand, shaking his gleaming bald head, his voice deep: “You’ve probed him already. What else is there?”

Rust Nail said nothing, merely squinting at his shameless colleague.

After a long silence, he sighed wearily:

“His spirit is extraordinarily resilient—barely affected by me. Aside from the Purity Blessing, he must possess a magical artifact that protects his soul—its rank is at least Legendary.”

Huh?

Thorn’s expression shifted slightly; he frowned: “So everything he said just now was a lie?”

Was it all an act?

Had he been deceived?

That couldn’t be right!

After serving as Inquisitor for so many years, how could he fail to distinguish truth from falsehood?

“No, you weren’t deceived. Everything he said was the truth buried deep within his heart.”

“And that was only part of it—much more remains untriggered.”

Rust Nail recalled the resentment and fury he had sensed, and sighed with emotion:

“As a wronged youth, he desperately needs a battle to prove himself—to uphold his spirit with the honor of victory...”

He paused, then shook his head: “Even more, his subconscious wishes for a glorious death—to cleanse his injustice.”

At these words, both cardinals fell silent.

Sacrifice.

Dying to prove one’s innocence.

All feared death—even Holy Knights lacked the conviction to sacrifice themselves.

Without needing further explanation, they could feel the pressure weighing on Herbert’s spirit.

Regarding that incident, though he showed no outward sign, he had never forgotten it—not a single day—and kept it buried deep within.

“Have you found out who is persecuting him?”

“I have. But I won’t tell you—it’s not our place to interfere.”

“...Hmph. I understand.” Thorn sneered, curling his lip: “So it’s someone high-ranking in the kingdom.”

Rust Nail shook his head, dropped the subject, and said: “Now we can confirm Herbert is truly innocent—not a corrupted one. He can be trusted.”

“As the Grand Archbishop said, he is indeed an excellent prospect. I will recruit him during the next knight order expansion.”

“Indeed, he is an excellent... hmm?”

Thorn froze, then erupted in fury, pointing at his unprincipled colleague: “You want to steal him!? Absolutely not! Don’t forget—he’s under my Inquisition!”

You old bastard, what are you trying to do!?

“Hmph.”

Rust Nail sneered, ignoring Thorn’s rage entirely, turning away without looking back.

As he walked, he murmured softly:

“You’re the one who mustn’t forget.”

“Herbert is a Holy Knight.”

“You, a Punishment Monk, can’t teach him... hah!”

(End of Chapter)