#8
The meeting concluded. People dispersed in small groups, whispering amongst themselves as they departed.
“Bishop Hereis.”
The Archbishop, who had presided over today’s meeting, called out to Hereis, stopping him. Hereis, who usually kept to himself and rarely joined groups, turned back as he was about to leave the conference room alone.
“Would you care to have a quiet word with this old man for a moment?”
The Archbishop offered. Hereis gazed at the kind, deeply-lined face of the Archbishop before nodding his assent.
The two men found themselves seated in the Archbishop’s private reception room. Befitting the central hub of a religion that had completely dominated the continent, the Archbishop’s personal chambers were adorned with such splendor and beauty that they rivaled those of any king.
An attendant priest placed down the tea and withdrew from the reception room. Once the door closed, only the Archbishop and Hereis remained.
“Come, have a cup.”
The Archbishop said, lifting his teacup.
Hereis lifted the teacup before him, bringing it to his lips. A delightful aroma wafted from the clear brew. It was a premium tea, the kind only royalty could savor. The clergy, it seemed, were steeped in such luxury. Hereis had, until now, chosen to turn a blind eye to it, despite his awareness.
After Hereis took a sip of tea and set the cup down, the Archbishop parted his thin lips.
“I never dreamt that you, who always maintained such humility, harbored such ambition within you. How on earth did you manage to sway those old men?”
Indeed, Hereis, who had always practiced the virtue of humility as the Archbishop had noted, made no effort to conceal the smile playing on his lips.
“You are well aware that my ascension to the bishopric at such a young age was not solely due to divine favor.”
“Yes. Despite receiving the full embrace of divine favor, you never showed any interest in the internal affairs of the temple. That’s why the old guard, though envious, never truly kept you in check.”
“While that is certainly a reason, you know, don’t you, where my family hails from?”
‘The Marquisate of Loton.’
Hereis’s family was renowned for its prestige and wealth.
Hereis was originally the eldest son, destined to inherit the family line. However, due to the divine favor bestowed upon him, he had entered the temple from a young age.
His family, having lost their rightful heir to the temple, had sought to support Hereis in every way, both materially and spiritually. Of course, Hereis had consistently refused all such offers. Now, however, his perspective had shifted.
He promised wealth to those who desired it, honor to those who sought it, and miracles to those who craved them.
Many had engaged in solicitations, using wealth and honor as their bait. Yet, Hereis, not only backed by the full support of the Marquisate of Loton but also possessing divine power stronger than anyone else across the entire continent, could perform the very miracles that every human yearned for.
“My family, of course, and even my own power. As you know, am I not capable of such things?”
At Hereis’s composed words, the Archbishop closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh. His expression was complex.
Lost in thought for a brief while, he soon opened his eyes and nodded.
“This will be the last time I address you so informally. Archbishop Hereis, you may now withdraw.”
Hereis rose from his seat, bowed slightly, and then exited the reception room.
As Hereis walked down the opulent, lavish corridor lined with beautiful sculptures, his eyes gleamed with a cold light.
He had willingly plunged his feet into the murky waters he had long pretended not to see. This was merely the beginning. He would slowly, relentlessly devour this corrupt and filthy temple from within. Ascending to the highest position, he would utterly shatter the temple that had wielded divine law as a weapon, reveling in wealth and honor. He would turn every temple that worshipped God into a broken ruin. As for the gods who arbitrarily manipulated humans under the guise of divine law, he would render them utterly powerless, stripped of even a single worshipper.
Such a feat would have been unimaginable before, but now things were different. Hereis possessed not only divine grace, high status, and the nascent power of his own faction, but also the full, unwavering support of his family. And, perhaps most importantly, behind him stood the Demon King.
For the first time in his life, Hereis was seized by an urge to erupt in booming laughter. But now was not the time. The temple was a formidable force, having established a colossal presence across the continent in the name of God. To achieve his desires, he needed to move silently and stealthily, like a viper stalking its prey.
****
“Bishop Hereis!”
As he walked down the long corridor and neared his chambers, an attendant priest rushed towards him from a distance, his face blooming with excitement.
“Bishop Hereis! No, Archbishop!”
The attendant priest, having run at full speed, could not wipe the beaming smile from his face, even as he gasped for breath. It was a tremendous honor for a priest he attended to ascend to such a high office. And to be appointed Archbishop, no less! For the attendant priest himself, serving an Archbishop meant a significant promotion, elevating him to a much higher status than before.
“Congratulations! Truly, congratulations!”
The attendant priest exclaimed again, his hands clasped together, his face alight with fervor. Hearing his shouts, the surrounding priests converged on Hereis, as if they had been waiting for this very moment.
“Congratulations, Archbishop Hereis!”
“Congratulations, Archbishop!”
The priests offered their heartfelt congratulations, each in their own way. Some, overcome with emotion, had tears welling in their eyes. A few even kissed the hem of Hereis’s robe or the back of his hand.
Most of them were either still young or lacked the necessary connections to ascend to higher positions, thus remaining as mid- or low-ranking priests. These were the ones who knew the corruption and absurdity within the temple better than anyone but were forced to remain silent due to their lack of power. In their eyes, as they looked at Hereis, shone a hope as bright as the morning star.
Even after becoming a bishop, Hereis had never entertained any solicitations, turning a blind eye to the temple’s internal politics, dedicating himself solely to serving God with unwavering piety. Knowing his disposition, they harbored the hope that with Hereis now as Archbishop, the temple might, at least in some small measure, begin to change.
Hereis offered them a harmless, gentle smile.
Several factions had already taken firm root within the temple. To shatter them all at once would be difficult. Yet, Hereis had these people.
Those who, lacking connections, would remain low-ranking priests their entire lives. Those who were simply devout and incorruptible, devoid of greed. Those who, pushed by their families at a young age, faced a destiny of dedicating their lives to the temple. Those who, despite trembling at the wicked deeds of high-ranking priests consumed by wealth and honor, had no choice but to obey.
These countless individuals, excluding the small factions that monopolized power and wealth, would truly become Hereis’s formidable force.
Only after enduring a prolonged period of boisterous congratulations could Hereis finally find himself alone in his room. He sat in the chair before his desk, leaning his head back against its rest, and closed his eyes. He had done what he could for now. Thus, his next task was simply to await the arrival of the beloved being who would thoroughly corrupt him: the Demon King Bellarossa.
“…Bellarossa, my contractor.”
Hereis whispered softly and sweetly into the empty air, calling out to him.
****
What thoughts might cross one’s mind upon encountering an eight-year-old proudly writing ‘Demon King’ in the ‘future aspirations’ section? Some would simply laugh it off, while others might cluck their tongues, deeming such a child rotten from the start.
In Jeha’s case, most people around him reacted with the former. He distinctly remembered receiving compliments like ‘how cute’ as they ruffled his hair, or even encouragement to become a ‘Great Demon King’ if he was going to be one at all. Such reactions made young Jeha puff out his chest with pride. Unfortunately, however, Jeha’s parents belonged to the latter group.
Jeha’s home upheld an unusually strict family tradition. Any behavior that deviated even slightly from etiquette or rules was met with an immediate caning. There was no leniency for youth. Eight-year-old Jeha was scolded until tears streamed down his face, all for writing ‘Demon King’ as his future aspiration.
As he grew older, his aspiration of becoming a Demon King gradually shifted to things like a doctor or an archaeologist. It faded increasingly from Jeha’s memory. Yet, it was never entirely forgotten. The dream of being a Demon King always remained lodged in a corner of Jeha’s heart. Whenever an inexplicable rebellious streak surged within him during adolescence, Jeha would recall his childhood ambition and think, ‘Yes, perhaps a touch of villainy lurks within me too.’
Unfortunately, however, Jeha was famously diligent and upright, both at school and among relatives. While his upbringing played a part, it was more a reflection of Jeha’s inherent character.
‘A person who could live without laws.’
Such was the public’s assessment of Jeha. Nevertheless, there were times when Jeha disliked this very aspect of himself. During those moments, he would fantasize about minor acts of rebellion, indulging in some naughtiness. Of course, he never managed to put them into practice.
[How to Corrupt Humans]
Jeha, having meticulously written the title on the paper, stared intently at it for a long while. Writing reports was always a challenge. Though this couldn’t strictly be called a report, he decided to consider it as such for now.
‘Methods to corrupt humans, huh…’
What methods could one employ to corrupt a human?
‘Well, to take the words literally, perhaps pushing them into a flush toilet brimming with filth?’
Jeha wrinkled his nose, dismissing the idiotic thought that had flitted through his mind. He then immersed himself in proper contemplation once more. Yet, no suitable method readily came to him.
‘It felt, somehow, both incredibly easy and incredibly difficult?’
Given that a high-ranking priest like Hereis had gone so far as to summon a Demon King for this task, the state of ‘corruption’ he desired was unlikely to be achievable through ordinary means.