Chapter 279: The Passerby and the Question (Happy Little Year)

Of course, although Valentina was eager to help Herbert cultivate, this matter was not carried out immediately.

Herbert had heard from her about the changes in her body and knew she had apparently reached the threshold between Legend and Epic.

At this stage, nothing should distract her—she must concentrate all her strength on breaking through.

And so, putting this matter aside for now… what remained was to properly comfort the wounded heart of the Hungry Dragon Young Lady.

This was no problem for Herbert.

Easy as pie, effortlessly handled.

In Herbert's view, women were often not hard to soothe at all.

Most people simply hadn't found the right method.

Never mind anything else—take Valentina, the First Gatekeeper of the Third Commandment, known as the Furious One—she was in fact far easier to soothe than outsiders imagined.

Yes, she was actually very easy to soothe.

As a ravenously hungry Hungry Dragon, feeding her well already solved two-thirds of the problem.

Once she was full, everything else was easy.

As for the remaining one-third… that required some conventional girl-soothing techniques.

Things like speaking sweet words, clinging close, hugging, whispering endearments…

Methods varied, and their effectiveness differed for each person—but most importantly, Herbert didn't need to teach them.

Those who understood would naturally know what to do.

And those who didn't… well, that was fine too—just act boldly on instinct!

…

"Hmm, yeah, when that time comes, just follow your feeling."

"As for exactly how to do it?"

Herbert rubbed his waist, yawned, and stepped out the main gate of the Third Commandment Hall, squinting up at the slowly rising sun.

"Ah! Damn… Praise the Sun."

Herbert had said so.

The most important thing was to feed Valentina well.

But he never said how to feed her!

"The toil here is not for outsiders to know."

The weary boy pounded his waist, breathed in the fresh air, and walked through the quiet monastery.

After walking slowly for a while, the silhouette of the monastery's main structure gradually became clear in the dim light.

Though it was only dawn, the monastery had long since awakened from sleep.

Herbert was the latecomer.

In the quiet courtyard, nuns and monks moved with brisk steps, carrying out their duties in orderly fashion.

Some monks sat in quiet meditation in the courtyard, palms pressed together toward the sun, expressions focused and devout.

Followers of different deities had their own distinct prayer rituals.

Some deities preferred complex ceremonies performed in solitude; others favored more tangible Sacrifices…

These people, however, were followers of the Sun—they needed no special Sacrifices, only prayer beneath the blazing sun.

They were praying to the Sun God, beseeching the great deity to bestow blessings that would grant them the power to tear apart darkness.

On the other side, several nuns trained in the open courtyard, slowly sparring, each movement strong and forceful.

In the Mist Monastery, it wasn't only the Knight Order that trained daily—the Combat Nun Order trained just as diligently, never neglecting their practice.

The nuns' movements were slow yet powerful, and each collision sent up clouds of dust.

If one looked closely, one could see heavy sandbags wrapped around their arms—tools helping them better hone their strength.

The visible monks were only these, but Herbert knew many more had already awakened.

Some monks had long sat quietly in the library, fingers gently turning yellowed pages, lost in the exploration and interpretation of the world.

The Knight Order far off was no different—likely already begun their sparring.

And even more monks, more… others.

Everyone in the monastery was busy along their own path; though this life was dull and tedious, their souls were full and content.

"…"

Herbert looked at all this, his white hair glinting faintly in the morning light, his face tinged with confusion and discomfort.

He suddenly felt he was still vastly different from them.

In this sea of activity, he felt out of place.

Herbert had been at the Mist Monastery for some time, met many people, spoken with many—but he still struggled to fit in.

He felt like an outsider, lazy and carefree, like a lone bird that had strayed into a neat flock of geese.

A lone… out-of-place white dove.

As Herbert stood lost in thought, he suddenly noticed gazes.

Unlike the cold, suspicious stares of his early days, the gazes now fixed on him were warm.

Even too warm—almost scorching.

The nuns and monks who happened to notice Herbert paused their actions.

They all nodded slightly, bowing respectfully to the overly young boy, greeting him voluntarily.

"Good morning, Your Grace."

"Your Grace Albert."

"Good morning, Your Grace Herbert."

……

Different titles, but the same reverence in their eyes.

Their sudden gesture left Herbert momentarily stunned.

"You…"

He was bewildered.

He knew he did not belong here; he was not the example they saw in him.

He knew they were not on the same path as him—his path was destined to walk alongside demon girls.

He knew well that he did not belong here; this was merely a temporary stay.

Yet the monastery folk had chosen another path.

They had fully accepted Herbert, seeing him as one of their own.

Herbert did not believe he belonged here, yet here had already embraced him as one of them.

This acceptance stirred a complex emotion within Herbert.

A sense of being moved, and a hint of helplessness.

This…

Though inwardly confused, Herbert did not let the emotion show on his face.

He curved his lips into a perfect smile, bowed slightly in return, his gaze sweeping across each person, meeting every eye as he greeted them warmly.

"Good morning, everyone."

"Please don't mind me—I'm just passing through."

Truly.

I really am just a passing Holy Knight, heading to the kitchen for a bite to replenish my strength…

To you, I'm merely a passerby.

"…"

Though surprised by Herbert's words, they sensed the faint resistance beneath his expression.

Yet they did not press him; they obeyed his request, bowed, and returned to their previous tasks without further notice.

"Phew…"

Just as Herbert finished his bow and was about to breathe out, a tall figure slowly stepped out from the shadows beside him.

"Herbert."

"Huh? Your Grace, the Inquisitor."

Herbert turned at the sound and saw the man's appearance.

The Inquisitor now wore a pure black robe, which, though unable to fully conceal his bulging muscles, lent his wild aura a measure of calm.

When had he arrived?

Herbert was slightly startled.

Had the Inquisitor not spoken, Herbert would never have known he had been silently observing nearby.

How could he have completely missed it?

"Mm."

The black robe swayed gently with each step; beneath the hood, his face was stern and deep, obscuring his expression… and his bald head.

Got it.

Herbert had not noticed the Inquisitor at first precisely because his bald head wasn't reflecting light!

Without the glaring bald head, the Inquisitor's presence had plummeted.

"A bald man emerging from the crowd" and "a hooded man emerging from the crowd" are not the same effect.

As Herbert internally teased the Inquisitor's new "hairstyle," he outwardly asked curiously: "What's the occasion for this outfit? Where are you going?"

The three cardinals normally appeared in red robes, always the same.

Yet now, the Inquisitor wore this unusual black robe… where was he going?

"I'm going to the Sanctuary."

The Inquisitor stepped before Herbert and lowered his head, studying the young Holy Knight he had always favored.

He saw the confusion in the youth's eyes, knew he resisted being accepted by others.

But that was fine; the youth had the right to be confused.

Herbert still had plenty of time to think, to make his own choice.

The Inquisitor nodded slightly in satisfaction, then spoke slowly, his voice low and powerful: "Come with me."

Without another word, he turned and walked toward the secret passage leading beneath the monastery.

Huh?

Wait!

I just came back from there yesterday—I've already been once!

What exactly are you up to?

Are you just messing with me?

"... Sigh. Whatever." Though filled with questions, Herbert obediently followed.

He'd give up on the extra breakfast for now; he wouldn't die from skipping a meal for a while—he'd go along and see what this was about.

Herbert truly wanted to know what the Inquisitor intended for him… surely not just to drag him to the Sanctuary for a chat?

I already talked with the Archbishop yesterday—what else could you possibly want me to talk about?

The path to the Sanctuary was unusually quiet; neither man spoke, silently passing through one dim corridor after another until they reached the monastery's underground.

Outside the Sanctuary, the Chief Inquisitor stopped walking and gave a slight bow toward the Bishop of Ashes, who was waiting there.

"Your Excellency the Warden, it is time for the rotation. According to the monastery's rules, for the next period, I will be taking over the watch of the Sanctuary from you."

Then the Chief Inquisitor walked over to the Bishop of Ashes, folded his arms across his chest, took his position outside the Sanctuary, and silently began standing guard.

"It's that time again already?"

The Bishop of Ashes tilted her head, as if letting out a yawn before slowly speaking: "Time really does fly… Huh? Child, why have you come as well?"

She seemed to have finally noticed Herbert, and looked him over with great interest.

"Oh?"

The Bishop of Ashes let out a soft sound of surprise, carefully examining every detail of Herbert, and after a moment she said softly:

"Child, you no longer look lost because of that old fellow's words, but a new confusion has taken root."

The eyes hidden beneath the hood seemed especially keen, able not only to see what fate had intended, but also to detect these subtle differences.

Compared to the turmoil when he left yesterday, Herbert at this moment, though still somewhat lost, was fairly clear-headed.

He made his way out on his own? That fast!

"Not bad, heh heh, truly not bad."

The Bishop of Ashes could not help but offer a few words of praise, sighing: "Seeing you like this, it's time for me to step in. Come with me, I'll help you solve that little problem."

With that, the Bishop of Ashes, finally free of her post, prepared to take Herbert to her personal relaxation space.

But just before setting out, before Herbert could even speak, another person objected first.

"Ah, Your Excellency, you… what are you doing?"

The Chief Inquisitor coughed and complained: "I brought Herbert here. I was hoping to chat with him a bit more during this time."

Herbert had guessed correctly.

The Chief Inquisitor had called Herbert here for the sole purpose of having one more friend to talk to while enduring the dreary torment.

That was the only purpose, nothing else.

But now, even that sole hope was about to be snatched away.

"Hm? Do you have any objections?" The Bishop of Ashes turned her head and cast a casual glance.

!!!

The Chief Inquisitor, reminded of past scenes, immediately stood at attention and bowed his head quickly toward the Bishop of Ashes.

"…No, none at all! Take your time! Have fun!"

He had figured it out—when one's own strength was insufficient, it was best not to take reckless risks.

One would get beaten!

"Mm, that's more like it."

The Bishop of Ashes smiled with satisfaction and nodded: "Then keep it up just like that."

With that, she gave a light flick of her fingers, and a massive teleportation gate appeared on the open ground before the Sanctuary. She then led Herbert through that mysterious door.

And beyond the door was a special space—a demiplane filled with endless books.

Herbert had already guessed it—this was probably the Bishop of Ashes's demiplane.

Soft light radiated from the sky, yet no source of light could be seen.

The space was utterly still, with tens of thousands of books lurking in the sky out of nowhere.

Silence.

It was so quiet here that time itself seemed to have stopped. Only the two of them—or to be precise, only Herbert's faint footsteps—echoed through the space.

Finally, after walking for a while, the Bishop of Ashes, who had been leading the way, arrived before a pile of stacked books.

She stopped, slowly turned around, gazed into Herbert's eyes, and asked softly:

"Child, I can sense your confusion. Are you troubled by inner turmoil? The malice of others? Or the kindness of others?"

Her voice was like a warm spring breeze, gently brushing past Herbert's heart, drawing him into deep thought.

"I am the Warden of this monastery, and also its Keeper of Secrets. You need not worry that I will tell your secrets to others."

"Speak your troubles freely. I will help you. No matter what your question is, I can give you an answer."

An answer?

Herbert's eyes widened, and he said in some surprise: "Can I really get an answer to anything?"

The Bishop of Ashes nodded proudly, saying with full confidence: "Don't worry, the texts here are more than enough for you."

"Any secret I know, I can tell you."

The Bishop of Ashes was quite confident about this.

Until Herbert asked a question she had never anticipated.

"Your Excellency the Warden, then please allow me to pose you a question."

After stacking up his defenses, Herbert raised his head, looked at the confidently smiling Bishop of Ashes, and asked tentatively:

"Um… why don't you make any sound when you walk?"

Bishop of Ashes:?

Such a precious opportunity and you don't cherish it—you ask this?

That's what you focus on!!?

(End of chapter)