Chapter 91: I Trust Her (Bonus Chapter 44)

“Chief Judge, Captain of the Knights…”

Herbert turned around and silently bowed to the retreating backs of the two.

When they merely waited outside the Third Oath Hall instead of storming in to arrest him, Herbert had already vaguely guessed their meaning.

The Grand Bishop’s stance remains unclear, but these two are certainly willing to believe in him.

Even though their time together has been brief, they still choose to trust him.

Herbert’s heart was actually stirred.

Especially after enduring past betrayal and suspicion, this trust moved him deeply.

Yet at the same time, Herbert felt guilty toward this trust.

Because he truly was a blasphemous, fallen, and unserious Holy Knight.

You’ve trusted the wrong man—

“You don’t need to thank them; they’re merely doing what they should.”

“As the strong, one must protect the weak.”

The Warden looked at Herbert, lost in thought, and said softly: “Don’t be nervous. The old man won’t harm you—just answer his questions honestly.”

“As long as you’re clean, he won’t target you.”

The Ash Grand Bishop gently pushed the door; the massive stone gate slowly opened a gap just wide enough for one person to pass through, revealing the sacred space beyond.

“Go.”

Herbert nodded silently, murmured “Mm,” and stepped forward.

“Understood.”

The pure need not defend themselves.

That’s true enough.

But the problem is—I really am tainted.

I’m not clean!

Carrying this helpless muttering, Herbert walked alone into the Sealed Chapel; the stone door behind him slowly closed.

Click.

“Huh…”

After entering, Herbert stopped, exhaled slowly, and the emotions in his eyes gradually faded, finally settling into calm.

He walked slowly through the chapel and soon saw the old man seated in meditation, eyes closed.

“Grand Bishop.”

The white-bearded elder slowly opened his eyes, nodded, and said softly: “...Sit.”

“Yes.”

In the silent, empty chapel, the two sat quietly facing each other.

Herbert now appeared unusually calm—neither fearful nor excited.

No matter what, since he had come this far, there was no turning back.

Herbert gazed quietly at the Grand Bishop, observing the old man dressed in a simple linen robe, looking no different from an ordinary elder.

The highest combat force of the entire monastery, the being known as the Saint Walking Among Men.

Before such a being, any clumsy disguise was meaningless; better to openly reveal his thoughts.

He was curious—how strong was this being?

Herbert observed the Grand Bishop, and the Grand Bishop silently observed him in return.

But it wasn’t mere surface observation; those deep, tranquil eyes seemed to pierce through everything—through skin, bone, and flesh—analyzing his soul.

He felt as if every inch of him had been laid bare.

“...”

Finally, the Grand Bishop’s gaze settled on Herbert’s dorsal hand.

!

Just as Herbert thought the Grand Bishop had seen something, the old man spoke.

He asked:

“How do you find life in the monastery?”

Herbert narrowed his eyes, confused by the Grand Bishop’s meaning.

Small talk now?

“...I’ve adapted well enough.”

“Mm, you do seem to have adapted quite well.”

The Grand Bishop nodded, his expression gentle: “The dragon’s trust, the sea witch’s lingering attachment, the vampire’s goodwill, the dark elf’s curiosity, the devil’s sorrow... In just a few days, you’ve accumulated so many karmic ties.”

!!!

This time, Herbert was truly stunned—he felt as if his underwear had been stripped off.

Speak!

Did you install surveillance on me?

“You...”

“Child, don’t panic. I’m not blaming you—in fact, you’ve done far better than I expected.”

The Grand Bishop waved his hand and asked kindly: “In your eyes, what kind of heretic is the Rageborn?”

“The Rageborn...”

Herbert suppressed his inner agitation and said firmly: “No, Valentina is indeed dangerous—powerful and uncontrollable—but she isn’t truly evil. She loves battle, but not killing.”

He had expected to cite several examples of his time with Valentina to prove this, but to his surprise, the Grand Bishop nodded in agreement:

“Mm, I saw that the moment I met the girl. She’s somewhat foolish in wisdom and lacks experience with others, but her nature isn’t wicked. With proper guidance, she can walk the right path.”

“That’s why I didn’t destroy her on the spot—I brought her back to the monastery for containment.”

“Yet her temperament has been too volatile. Your predecessors as jailers saw only her ferocity and never noticed the kindness within her nature.”

“Child, the fact that you noticed this pleases me greatly.”

?

Huh?

Herbert was bewildered.

That made sense.

The Grand Bishop’s words were remarkably open-minded—almost diametrically opposed to the monastery’s traditional stance of total hostility toward non-humans.

But should a man like you, the head of this monastery, say such things?

Is there something wrong with me? Or with you?

The Grand Bishop watched the boy’s expression grow increasingly strange, chuckled, and asked: “Do you trust her?”

“I trust her.”

Herbert’s answer was firm, without hesitation.

“Even though she is a heretic?”

“Even though she is a non-human.”

Herbert met the Grand Bishop’s gaze directly and said firmly: “This trust has nothing to do with race or anything else.”

“Valentina trusted me without reservation, so I trust her without reservation.”

“I will not, and I will never betray that trust.”

The Grand Bishop studied Herbert in silence for a moment, then smiled and nodded, turning his gaze to the center of the chapel and asking:

“Child, do you know what that is?”

What?

Is there something there?

Herbert, puzzled, followed his gaze—and his eyes widened sharply. He saw something that had definitely not been there a moment ago.

In the center of the chapel, a stone statue of a girl, half a person’s height, had appeared out of thin air!

And what shook Herbert to his core was...

He felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity radiating from the statue.

Familiarity?!

Gulp.

His throat felt dry; he struggled to speak: “What... is that?”

The Grand Bishop seemed not to notice his distress; his attention remained fixed on the statue.

“Its official name is the [Blasphemous Prayer Statue]. It is a Saint-level sealed artifact—the most powerful sealed object in the entire Mist Monastery.”

“And long, long ago, it had another name...”

The Grand Bishop gazed at the statue, ancient scenes flickering in his eyes, then shook his head softly and said:

“‘The Death of Saintess Nenasha.’”

!!!

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(End of Chapter)