The square held its breath.
Every member of the clergy leaned forward—some hopeful, some fearful, some calculating—as the Pope's calm gaze swept over the chaos below. Divine guards clashed with academy fighters. Mana flared. Steel rang. Blood stained white stone.
The Pope spoke again, voice carrying effortlessly across the plaza.
"If I were to take action…"
A pause. Long enough to sting.
"…I am certain there would be someone to counter it."
A ripple went through the clergy.
Brows furrowed. Lips parted. Silent questions exchanged.
The Pope's eyes returned to the battlefield, unhurried, observant—like a man watching waves crash against rocks he knew would endure.
"Let them play for a while."
Confusion spread instantly.
Some bishops stiffened. Others exchanged uneasy glances. A few priests swallowed hard, sensing the danger hidden in that single sentence.
