Sanctuary, Pope's hall.
Shura knelt respectfully on one knee, pressed down by the immense Cosmo ahead.
His Holiness sat silent on the throne, but from that Cosmo Shura sensed anger.
He dared not speak, only kept his head bowed on one knee.
"That mystery man killed the Cyclops, stole the divine blood… and even used the finishers of several Gold Saints. You suspect he's a Gold Saint?"
The Pope finally spoke, disbelief in his tone.
You couldn't blame him. Hearing Shura's account, anyone would doubt.
Was there someone in this world who could do that?
But Shura's loyalty was beyond question.
Who in the world was it?
Someone who could slap a mythic monster to death?
Virgo's Gold Saint, Shaka?
No. He could feel Shaka's Cosmo in Virgo Temple, and Shaka wouldn't use other Gold Saints' finishers.
Then Old Master Dohko on China's Five Old Peaks?
A legendary senior Saint?
None of those fit!
Who was that mystery man?
Could it be the Sagittarius Gold Saint who fled the Sanctuary thirteen years ago?
Impossible!
That Cosmo had already vanished.
Why did he take the divine blood?
And… the Cyclops sealed underground since the mythic age had been released by sacrifice. Those who called themselves Apostles—who were they, really?
These questions left Saga silent.
"Your Holiness, Gigas requests an audience."
From outside came the voice of Gigas, the Sanctuary's chief of staff.
"Go, Shura. You bear some fault in this affair. Reflect in Capricorn Temple."
Saga did not blame Shura.
If the Cyclops revived, only he himself going in person might have broken it.
Gigas entered, brushing past Shura, and sneered, "Shura, I hear you failed your mission."
Shura shot the seedy old man a look of contempt and ignored him.
"Heh heh… Your Holiness, I have good news."
Gigas wore a fawning smile. "According to our intel, we found a girl in Japan named Saori Kido, thirteen years old. She looks like this."
He handed up a photo.
On it was a purple-haired girl.
At a glance, Saga's heart jolted.
No mistake—the girl looked extremely similar to Athena's portraits in the goddess's hall through the ages.
Head full of purple hair, stunning features, noble bearing—like a goddess incarnate.
Most importantly, she was thirteen.
If Athena still lived, she would also be thirteen.
"Your Holiness, besides this little girl, I also found the missing Sagittarius Gold Cloth."
"The Gold Cloth is in this Saori Kido's hands. She is summoning Saints to compete for it."
"In addition, I dug further and found that this so-called Saori Kido's grandfather is actually the one who funded…"
Saga could no longer hear him.
Because another, utterly evil voice rose in his mind.
"Kill her, kill her, kill her for me…"
Night, at sea, the cruise ship Golden Coast.
Neon lights in all colors twinkled across the deck, a crush of people clinking glasses.
The passengers were all rich or noble. Men wore branded tailcoats; women wore evening gowns of every shade—the attire alone screamed high-end.
A cool sea breeze toyed with hair—refreshing and pleasant.
Waves rippled. A lavish party played out on deck. The band played jaunty tunes. Guests danced, toasted, and traded jokes.
Everything reeked of luxury and money.
"Look, that man is so handsome—and what a body."
"His clothes are so loose… but that physique, especially those pecs—amazing."
"Look at his butt—so perky. I've never seen one that perky."
A few blonde, blue-eyed European ladies stared at a man leaning on the railing with a drink, eyes shining, practically drooling.
The man in a loose white shirt leaned at the rail, sipping and taking in the night view, utterly indifferent to the predatory socialites around him—as if they didn't exist.
There were plenty of sharp-suited handsome men here, but next to him they paled.
Like fireflies vying with the full moon—you knew the winner at a glance.
His face had a blend of East Asian and Western traits—black hair and eyes, a high bridge to the nose, blood-red lips, lean cheeks, deep-set eyes, features manly to an extreme—like a statue of a classical Greek beauty.
Of course, most striking was the physique—an irresistible masculine force.
Right!
Those pecs were so full—you'd want to go up and touch them.
"Hello, handsome."
A young woman in a slit red dress stepped up. After a few words, she slipped him a room key, tossed a sultry look, and left.
"Man… these European women are something else. And I'm pretty sure a few of them had husbands or dates."
Pocketing the key, Damian looked at the stack in his hand.
In the time he'd been drinking in the breeze, he'd collected a dozen keys—mostly VIP suites.
Every woman who handed him a key was easy on the eyes—willowy figures, solid tens—and all rich or noble.
Too bad he wasn't on this boat to plow fields like an old ox.
To him, these uninhibited European beauties were less interesting than the corpses back in the graveyard.
All pink skeletons.
With his Strength stat, he'd probably make them fall apart at a touch—never mind going full power.
Besides, a heart free of women keeps the Cosmo pure.
Women only slow your Cosmo's burst rate.
If it were the goddess Athena, though, they could hit the highway together—and chat baby names after.
Damian drained his last sip of wine, tossed the glass, and headed back to his VIP cabin under the watchful eyes of a host of European beauties.
He chose to sail back to Greece alone to avoid stirring up trouble with the Silver Saints—and to avoid teary Marin—for some peace.
Seeing the Golden Coast near Greece, he posed as a guest and boarded, sampling cruise-ship life.
The VIP room was just a regular guest suite—yet the king-size mattress could fit three; perfect for a round of cards.
Sumptuous decor: rosewood furniture, crystal chandeliers, marble floors, a private bath—everything.
Truly decadent.
But Damian only wanted to get back to the Sanctuary and pour the divine blood on his headstone to see what happened—no mood to admire the decor.
It was close to midnight.
The sea breeze held; the waves hissed softly.
Outside the window, a bright full moon hung over the water.
Knock, knock, knock…
Just as he meant to rest, a knock sounded at the door.
"Who is it?"
"I'm Catherine—the one who slipped you a key at the party. Sir, may I come in for a chat…"
A shy woman's voice drifted in.
Through the peephole, Damian saw the European beauty from the red dress standing outside, a red fascinator perched on her head—playful and cute.
Are you kidding me?
You want to discuss life, this late at night?
It's this late—and you, Little Red Riding Hood, aren't afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?
(End of Chapter)
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