Only when one has restored their energy can they find the strength—or the mood—for other pursuits.
Such as attending to one's appearance.
Having devoured two ink-black Dementors, the old man looked radiant. He adjusted his white robes and placed the distinctively tall, fish-mouth miter of the Pontiff upon his head. Rey, watching from the crate, realized that this sanctimonious old man was none other than the Pope himself.
The man truly looked the part. Once dressed in his vestments, he radiated an aura of kindness and approachability. He seemed like God's chosen representative on Earth, ready to spread divine light across the world.
If Rey hadn't just watched him eat two Dementors and felt the terrifying wave of negative emotions that accompanied the act, he never would have guessed that this harmless-looking grandfather was the leader of the Holy Church.
"So, will you come out now?"
The Pope adjusted his miter and asked again, his voice calm.
Rey stayed put inside the black crate. He had no intention of leaving. His gut told him he was no match for this man.
"Absorbing two Dementors should have been my limit, but you... you feel exceptionally delicious."
Exceptionally delicious. If he were talking about a roast chicken, it would be fine.
But he was talking to a person. Or rather, he was talking to what he thought was a Dementor.
The meaning was clear, but the context was twisted. The mighty Pope was a cannibalistic demon hiding under a veneer of holiness.
"Not coming out?"
A gentle smile. A calm expression. A simple question. It sounded harmless, almost inviting Rey to step out.
Rey suppressed the sudden, irrational urge to obey. Ever since the old man started getting dressed, Rey had been frantically calling out to Raphael inside his Soul Orb.
She called herself the Wraith Queen. Even if that title was a bit inflated, she was definitely the real deal.
Facing the Pope, Rey had no choice but to ask for her help. Before the fight had even started, his instincts were screaming: This guy is too strong.
---
"Are you truly not coming out?"
The fully dressed Pope's lips curled into a dangerous smile. Rey's heart skipped a beat. Not good.
Sure enough, the old man raised his right hand. A ball of blinding white light sprang from his palm and landed squarely on the black crate.
The light sank into the wood. Instantly, the temperature inside skyrocketed. It felt like being trapped inside an oven.
Bang!
Rey didn't wait to be cooked alive. With a loud crash, he burst out of the crate in his mist form. If he was going to be forced out, he might as well do it on his own terms.
The room was instantly flooded with what looked like spilled ink. The sight of the vibrant, living darkness made the Pope's smile widen.
A hooded figure materialized. Long, skeletal fingers flexed methodically. Tattered black robes swirled, and a suffocating aura of darkness filled the air.
Rey was pouring the dark energy from his Soul Orb outward without reserve. After bursting out, he hadn't reverted to his human form; instead, he used Transfiguration to assume the shape of a Dementor.
The transformation was flawless. The way the magical energy flowed like ink through the tattered fabric made the old man's eyes light up with delight.
"Such pure darkness!"
The Pope exclaimed, greed naked in his eyes. His expression was one of pure indulgence, like a gourmand presented with a Michelin-star meal. He clearly had no suspicion that this "Dementor" was actually a wizard in disguise.
Wizards could use Transfiguration, true.
But to match the appearance and the internal essence so perfectly? To replicate such pure dark energy? In the Pope's mind, no wizard could achieve that with a mere spell.
Seeing that the old man was fooled, Rey felt a flicker of hope, but he dared not relax. Committing to the act, he let out a rasping shriek and charged at the Pope.
It was the prelude to the Dementor's Kiss. Every Dementor did this before feeding.
Rey knew this. The Pope knew this even better. A gleam of anticipation flashed in the old man's piercing eyes.
Dementors possess low intelligence; they are creatures driven by instinctual hunger and fear.
The Pope had just devoured two of its kind right in front of it. Yet, this Dementor still dared to charge him, intending to feed on his soul. He had to admire its courage.
Overcoming fear to attack the predator—this proved that the creature before him was leagues above the previous two.
For a split second, the Pope felt an urge to keep such a rare specimen.
But he quickly crushed the thought.
Every time he performed the Rite of Blessing, his power was temporarily drained. But this drained state was also the perfect opportunity to break his limits.
If he could recover successfully now, his power would ascend to a new level.
He had performed the Rite four times in total. Once for each of the three Cardinals, and most recently for the soulless child.
To shatter his limits completely, he had pushed himself harder this time. He needed to be stronger, because after this, he would likely face the four geniuses of the wizarding world.
Only by destroying those four wizards could he, the Pontiff, remain at the pinnacle of power.
The blessing he gave Alofman was a strategic move. It emboldened the Cardinal to act as the vanguard, a sacrificial pawn to test the Four Founders' true strength.
It was a perfect plan. And now, it was time to feast.
Usually, the divine light granted by the Rite only allowed him to consume two Dementors.
But this time, having expended so much effort, he felt capable of consuming three. There was a risk, but the potential reward was worth it.
---
There are many fools in the world, but an old man who climbs to the position of Pope isn't one of them. He wouldn't sacrifice his own lifespan for a Cardinal's request unless there was something in it for him.
Breaking his limits was the real goal. If he consumed this supreme-grade Dementor, his soul would undergo a qualitative change, perhaps transcending humanity altogether. From then on, the so-called Four Founders would be nothing but ants beneath his feet.
The old man closed his eyes in anticipation, waiting for the Dementor to latch onto his soul.
With the strength of his own soul, the moment they connected, every ounce of power within the creature would become fuel for his ascension.
"Thorns of the Abyss!"
The Pope didn't feel the cold kiss of a Dementor. Instead, he heard a cold shout right in front of his face.
The voice had none of a Dementor's rasp, but the dark magic that erupted with it was far more violent than what had been leaking out before.
In the split second the Pope closed his eyes, Rey canceled his Transfiguration and reverted to his human form.
To unleash the full power of a spell, he needed his own body. That was why he had to drop the disguise.
Rey had spent a long time in the Sixth Circle of Hell, so his Soul Orb was brimming with dark energy. The explosion of power was him unleashing everything he had without holding back.
Thorns of the Abyss was the strongest physical attack in Raphael's arsenal.
In that moment, Rey and the Wraith Queen within his Soul Orb achieved perfect synchronization. The shout was a single voice shared by two souls, acting as the medium for their combined power.
Behind Rey, the black cloak fully manifested. As the spell was cast, the fabric of the cloak hardened and elongated into countless sharp, black spikes, stabbing instantly toward the old man.
Thwack! Thwack!
The sounds of flesh being pierced echoed in the room.
But as the spikes struck, the Pope's eyes snapped open. His body twisted at an impossible angle.
Though most of the spikes hit him, he managed to avoid the ones aimed at his vitals entirely.
---
Being ambushed is never pleasant. The Pope's expression turned icy cold. His aura shifted instantly, becoming terrifyingly calm. He looked at Rey as if looking at a dead man, a storm brewing beneath his placid gaze.
Someone had ambushed him. And they had succeeded.
His anger wasn't directed at the young assassin, but at himself. When did I become so careless?
Suppressing his rage, the old man glanced down at the black spikes skewering his torso. Then, he looked up to scrutinize Rey's face.
Suddenly, his expression shifted to one of disbelief.
"I never expected," he said, his voice laced with shock, "that it would be you."
---