People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

Chapter 230 All destined blessings have already had their prices secretly marked.

Picking up the business card left by Mostima on the bench, Ernst took out his phone and called Mostima. He soon saw the blue-haired Sakota girl, who always wore a hood, coming from afar.

To Ernstello’s surprise, the moment he saw Mostima, Andorn, who had not shown the slightest fear even during the debate, involuntarily took a half step back, a momentary struggle on his face.

Do they know each other?

That makes sense, does it?

While the possibility of encountering a world-changing Sarkazan while lying in bed in the central garden of San Marso is not zero, it is far less plausible than the scenario where "Andorn already knows Mostima and knows he is in Laterano through this storyline, so he deliberately waits here to bump into him."

However, Ernst was somewhat surprised; he genuinely didn't see that saintly aura of Andorn in Mostima. He truly hadn't expected these two to be in cahoots.

To his surprise, the very next second Mostima stepped forward, his words contradicted his earlier assumptions.

The blue-haired girl dropped her carefree smile, her expression turning cold and slightly wary. She even subtly positioned herself in front of Ernst, as if guarding against something.

She asked coldly, "Andorn, how dare you come back?"

Andorn lowered his head slightly, his expression becoming somewhat grave, but he did not run away. Instead, he answered earnestly:

"I'm sorry for what happened back then. But if I had another chance, I would still do the same thing."

"Just for a... treasure, you hurt those who trusted you, and you think you can get away with it with a half-hearted apology?" Mostima said sarcastically.

Andorn paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the sealed box behind Mostima, which was tightly wrapped in black cloth.

Fragments of a colossal beast slumber within.

If we were to ask who on this land, besides the "omniscient" "god" as prophesied by the Lateran Law, is the most knowledgeable, it would perhaps be the colossal beasts that have survived from ancient times to the present.

Andorn did what he did to seize the staff and seek answers from the behemoth within. To this end, he ambushed Remium, nearly killing her, and then engaged Mostima in direct combat to steal the staff.

Unfortunately, his fighting strength was insufficient, and he couldn't win in a one-on-one fight. Fiameta was on his way back, forcing him to retreat, resulting in a lose-lose situation.

The staff he once sought, which housed fragments of a giant beast, has now fallen into Mostima's hands.

Andorn sighed. "I meant no harm, Mostima."

Mostima chuckled and suddenly said, "Andorn, do you know what my biggest realization has been all these years since I left Laterano to serve as an envoy for the old man and travel across Terra?"

Seemingly not even intending to wait for Andorn's reply, Mostima answered on her own:

"That is, empathy is actually a shackle for Sakorta!"

"Because of empathy, the Sakotas trust and empathize with each other. We are born more approachable, more united, and more cohesive than any other ethnic group."

"But on my first day working at the Papal Court, I discovered that without exception, the first thing all the cardinals, cavalry, and the old man himself had to learn was to reject empathy and isolate themselves from the network of empathy!"

Sarkaz's empathy is a racial gift, but it is not something that cannot be turned off. As mentioned several times in The Garden of Illusions, due to the old bishop of the monastery himself, empathy had almost ceased to function; his kind could not feel him, and he could not feel the emotions of his kind.

"I've thought about this many times, and I'm wondering why."

"Just like I've thought about what happened that night many times. Why didn't I sense your intentions beforehand? Why did Remian not react at all to your sneak attack? Why, even now, when I think about what happened that night, do I not feel the same anger and hatred towards you as I do towards Fiameta?"

Mostima narrowed his eyes: "Why?"

Why? Mostima actually revealed the answer in her very first sentence.

Because the shackle of empathy does not allow it.

The law requires the Sakorta to be united and loving, to support one another, and to perpetuate their tribe. Empathy is the ironclad rule of "survival" that binds all Sakorta.

A halo is not a sacred symbol. A halo is like the golden headband that Sun Wukong wears on his head, the shackles that prisoners wear around their necks, or the collars that owners put around their pets in the hope that they will obey.

Mostima's expression was half self-mockery and half relief:

"To be honest, it's quite chilling. I can hardly imagine if I hadn't been expelled from the Sarkazan and become a fallen angel, would my thoughts have been subtly influenced by empathy, and would I have felt that you were also understandable, that I shouldn't be too harsh on you, and that I should even accept you and help you."

"This is no joke."

“Andorn, think about how you are being treated now. You attacked your comrade with a gun, yet the law hasn't made you fall from grace; you are a holy son recognized by him. The Papal Court issued a symbolic arrest warrant for you, but the Notary Office has never actually sent a single executor to track you down. You are fading from everyone's memory; you are not dead, but you are being constantly beautified as if you were filtered through a lens.”

"This may not concern you, but it is a fact that is happening all over Lateran."

Mostima had one more thing she didn't mention, which was also the last thing she wanted to get involved in.

That's Remi'an.

Remian was severely injured in the sneak attack, and the damage to her bodily functions was so great that even after several years of treatment with the miraculous Terra Originium medical technology, she still shows no signs of waking up, which shows how serious her injuries were.

Just as Mostima had just said, when Andorn launched the sneak attack, not a single trace of malice welled up in his heart that the two of them could detect.

Remium was struck down by a "benevolent bullet." She didn't have the chance to witness the subsequent clash between Mostima and Andorn, nor did she witness Mostima's fall from grace, and she knew nothing about Fiameta's rage. She might not even have a clear memory of it all—she was recuperating when she was suddenly knocked down, slept for years, and woke up to find everyone had fallen out.

Mostima couldn't even be sure what attitude Remien would have towards Andorn when she woke up.

If anger is justified, if indifference is understandable, if forgiveness...

Mostima struggled to ponder whether this was due to the infamous "Silent Remian" being genuinely tolerant and magnanimous towards Andorn, or simply the influence of empathy.

Mostima shattered her halo by falling from grace, freeing herself from that shackle, but Remy Anke did not.

In the worst-case scenario, Fiameta would inevitably have to argue with Remian, and she would be in an even more difficult position to take sides. This could further escalate Fiameta's emotions.

She's wanted to blow up Andorn for a long time now. If Remi'an tries to stop her, how wronged will Fiameta be?

As Mostima finished speaking, Andorn's expression gradually became serious.

He wasn't angry at Mostima's words; on the contrary, he finally sensed something strange.

Yes, that's unreasonable!

He injured Remian but did not fall from grace. He was wanted by Laterano but was never seriously pursued. In fact, he had been lurking in Laterano for so long without revealing a single flaw.

Is his ability to conceal himself really that high? Or is it that the patrolling Sakorta, the notary office, and the gun cavalry never actually intended to arrest him?

What exactly is the definition of a "sinner" in Laterano? Does it refer to a fallen angel whose aura dims and shatters while protecting their companions, or to a Sarkaz who, despite committing wrongdoings, still possesses a bright aura?

What are the gods who wield the law thinking? What are they plotting? And what exactly is the Sakota, this race with halos, wings, and the ability to wield guns?

Andorn had always wondered why the Sarkaz were born different, possessing so many unique traits that made them so out of place among the other races of the land.

But now, he has another problem.

If we acknowledge this difference, then what exactly did Sakta, who was born different, pay for this "difference"?

Andorn took another step forward, this time with a hint of urgency in his voice.

Realizing the abnormality of his own example, the abnormality of the Sarkaz, and the abnormality of the law, he could no longer allow himself to remain in this state of confusion!

He looked at Ernst, whose brow was furrowed and who seemed lost in thought, and called out loudly:

"Mr. Ernst, please take me to the Papal Palace! Please take me there now!"

Chapter 231 This is a clash of two paths

Lateran, Papal Palace.

The gunner guarding the door tapped his helmet, looking exhausted.

"I didn't expect to have to go to work today. His Holiness the Pope keeps saying he's restless and has even increased security. I wonder what he's thinking."

Upon seeing this, the cavalryman standing on the other side of the gate jokingly replied:

"Stop complaining, Partridge. You're actually doing well, with a lovely granddaughter at home. What about us?"

"Hahahaha." The musketeer known as Partridge smiled, his eyes crinkling. He seemed quite proud of his granddaughter and couldn't help but boast, "Fiameta is such a good girl, she's such a relief!"

As he spoke, he seemed to have thought of something and smacked his lips: "I just don't know what's wrong with her these past few days. She's been leaving early and coming home late, and she hasn't been with Mostima. When I asked her what happened, she wouldn't say."

The cavalryman's gossip-loving nature was instantly aroused, and he quickly leaned over and whispered:

"Could she be in a relationship? Is Fiameta that age already?"

Partridge frowned and reached for the revolver hanging diagonally at his waist.

The musketeer broke out in a cold sweat upon seeing this, waving his hands and retreating repeatedly: "No need, no need, I was just joking. That kid Fiameta always said he wanted to follow in your footsteps and become a Papal Knight, who knows where he's training now."

"Shh, serious!" Partridge glared at him, then winked at him.

The cavalry then noticed the three people walking towards them from not far away.

Mostima was an old acquaintance of both of them. She was a rare fallen angel in Lateran and was often summoned by the Pope. Most importantly, Partridge's adopted granddaughter, Fiameta, was by her side. The two were once teammates in a small team, but now they had become guardian and ward, serving together as messengers of all nations directly representing the Pope.

It is worth mentioning that Patrić was also one of the designers of the codename for Operation Fiammetta.

Live to old age, play to old age, never lose your childlike heart, and have a penchant for pranks—very characteristic of Lateranzakota.

Besides Mostima, the identities of the other two are worth noting.

Ernst Siwaish, the leader of the Sherag who recently arrived in Lateran to meet with the Pope, is described by the Pope as a formidable figure, most notably for his composure.

And the person next to him...

“Grandpa Partridge.” Mostima suddenly spoke, smiling as he stopped Partridge from raising his revolver, shaking his head slightly.

Partridge frowned slightly, somewhat puzzled.

Andorn, Partridge, certainly recognized this Sarkaz. Back then, his four-man team—along with Remian, Mostima, and Fiameta—was considered the rising stars of the Sarkaz. Who knew that a simple "cleaning up the Sarkaz camp" mission would tear this rising star apart?

Fiameta was the only one unharmed in the entire incident, yet she was the most heartbroken. Partridge remembered with perfect clarity the scene when Remian was wheeled into the emergency room, unconscious, Mostima's head sprouted blasphemous horns, his halo dimmed, his wings shattered, and after being summoned to the Papal Palace by Ivangelist XI, Fiameta returned home alone.

She burned everything in the house that belonged to the four-person team, and stood alone in the courtyard staring blankly at the fire. In the firelight, her eyes were red and swollen, and she kept muttering to herself, "Why didn't I arrive sooner?"

She was the one who felt the most guilty of all.

Partridge wasn't without temper either. If it weren't for his status as a musketeer, which prevented him from roaming Terra like a notary, he would have applied to leave Laterano long ago and personally hunted down Andorn!

What grandfather would be so heartbroken to see his granddaughter?

It would have been fine if he hadn't seen this guy, but now this person actually dared to appear in front of him in public. As a musketeer, he could have used the Great Compassionate Wheel-Shaped Cannon Bodhisattva to deliver Andoren from his suffering right here in the city, without any problem.

What? It will cause one to fall from heaven?

Partridge didn't care.

The Sakotas are free spirits; respecting the law is important, the duties of the cavalry are important, maintaining order and refraining from vigilante justice are also important.

But there are always some things that come above others.

But Mostima stopped him at that moment and said softly, "Grandpa Partridge, Andorn is here to see His Holiness the Pope."

The fact that Mostima didn't call him "old man" was a sign of respect for Ivangelista XI in front of the papal chamber.

Of course, once they meet, they might revert to their old names.

"Looking for His Holiness the Pope?" Partridge's eyes flickered. He put down his revolver and asked businesslike, "Do you have a summons or a pass?"

"Didn't we bring it with us?"

Mostima turned to the side, revealing Ernst.

Ernst nodded slightly: "I have important matters to discuss with His Holiness the Pope."

Partridge remained silent for a moment, offering no reply. Meanwhile, the musketeers on the other side had already turned and entered the papal chamber to find Ivangelist XI.

During the brief wait, Andorn stepped forward and bowed deeply to Partridge:

"terribly sorry."

“You should apologize to Fiameta directly, not to me. You haven’t offended me,” Partridge said coldly.

A bitter smile appeared on Andorn's lips as he nodded.

"I will."

Although meeting Fiameta would inevitably result in her "blasting his mother with cannons," he had to accept it.

Because this is the most normal reaction.

After realizing that empathy might be a trap and that Sarkaz's will might be affected as a result, Andorn was no longer able to readily accept those acts of understanding and goodwill.

What he needs is not a twisted forgiveness granted by the law, but redemption within his own heart.

He even felt a genuine disgust for the laws that allowed such things to happen. Human independence is the most precious thing; how could it be...desecrated in this way?

A moment later, the gunner who had entered the papal chamber earlier opened the door, poked half his body out, and whispered:

"His Holiness the Pope awaits the three of you in his reception room."

...............

The Papal Palace, the reception room.