The Sponsored Heroines Are Coming for Me

Chapter 222

the pope took his seat.

following him, the emperor of the britannian empire settled into his place.

the emperor’s intense gaze lingered on me for a moment.

i gave a slight nod. he averted his eyes as if it were nothing.

well, it makes sense that he wouldn’t easily remember.

the emperor had regained the appearance of his younger days—the perfect predator.

completely different from when i met him in the imperial palace.

“ah, these are the ones to face the witch trial.”

the pope introduced us with a serene tone.

though his words were far from serene.

and so, we faced him.

the master of holy constantine, the spiritual father of all believers of the deus church—

pope daios ii.

even in the game, meeting him was next to impossible.

thus, there was no clear understanding of his character, personality, or abilities.

merely an image of “benevolence” widely spread among players.

such was his existence.

a noble figure shrouded in mystery.

countless rumors surrounded him.

that he was incredibly handsome.

that he looked like a teenage boy.

that he was an overwhelmingly mystical and awe-inspiring presence.

or even that he might secretly be an elf.

and now, facing him directly, i realized.

no player had ever truly seen the pope.

only the perception of “benevolence” was genuine.

at a glance, he had a benevolent demeanor.

no—calling it “benevolent” was generous. he almost looked... approachable.

if the emperor was the embodiment of a rigid and ferocious beast, the pope felt like a kindly next-door neighbor.

he had a slightly plump and warm appearance. honestly, if it weren’t for the endlessly divine aura of his priestly robes, i’d think, “oh, someone just moved in next door. they seem quite nice”, if i met him in an elevator.

in short, he looked less like a pope and more like someone’s amiable neighbor.

“...”

of course, saying such a thing out loud would instantly lead to a charge of blasphemy.

then again, does it matter?

i’m already in custody.

standing on trial for witchcraft means i’m already as guilty as one can be in the eyes of the church.

the pope and the emperor murmured to one another.

to be precise—they conversed normally, but we couldn’t hear them.

the recently activated magical barrier surrounding the seats of the accused must have been the cause.

however, judging from the pope’s lip movements, he seemed to be mentioning holding the witch trial or conducting the saint evaluation afterward.

after finishing their discussion, the pope—

—step

—approached us.

only as the distance shortened did i feel it fully.

despite his kind appearance, this man was unmistakably the pope.

the immense divine energy emanating from him was overwhelming, enough to make me flinch involuntarily.

yet, the expressions of those seated beside me remained unchanged.

‘... is it just me?’

the sheer presence was enough to catch me off guard.

the pope stopped about three meters away.

standing beyond the transparent veil, he addressed me—or rather, us, the accused.

“religion, by nature, is a profoundly sacred thing. it exists because people believe blindly in the divine. that’s why spiritual guidance is so important. ordinary people are like lost lambs, needing to be led down the righteous path.”

the pope’s voice was gentle yet solemn.

“that is the blind faith of the lambs. but at times, there are those who deceive these lambs and lead them astray. we call such individuals heretics. among them, those whose sins are especially grave are branded witches. they are the ones we must ceaselessly purify.”

the pattern repeated.

i had begun to uncover the secret behind the pope’s ability.

while i wasn’t entirely certain of the mechanism...

‘the key is the trembling.’

whenever his opponent trembled, the pope discerned the truth.

when they didn’t, he either accepted it as truth or provoked another reaction.

and so, the middle-aged man—no, the s-ranked wanted criminal, serial murderer, r*pist, and operative of the bloodstone cult, thiebaud brome—was declared a witch.

the three-minute process was undoubtedly a performance.

after all, the pope’s time was far too precious to spend on dealing with mere criminals.

in other words.

this was a subtle display of his abilities for the emperor.

“what do you think? this is how i determine sinners.”

“quite merciful. if it were up to me, i wouldn’t have exchanged a word and would’ve gutted him immediately.”

“it’s been a while, so my head aches from the effort. hahaha.”

the pope, smiling warmly, gestured lightly toward the middle-aged man.

“your sins shall be purified.”

“w-wait a moment... i, i am...!”

“to the stake.”

“w-wait...! y-you filthy bastards! we bloodstone will—”

his mouth shut abruptly.

and just like that, he disappeared.

a sudden silence descended upon the chamber.

“hehehe.”

only the pope’s relaxed chuckle disrupted the quiet.

through the glass wall on one side, a small flame began to flicker gently.

it was distant and not clearly visible, but the flame swayed as though alive.

“may your soul be cleansed as well.”

a short prayer from the pope.

his gaze then shifted to the next person.

“oscar seems to harbor a profound hatred for you.”

the pope’s voice carried a tinge of pity.

but the sympathy wasn’t directed at me.

it was for the widow seated to my left.

she stammered out a reply to his words.

“i-i don’t understand w-what you mean.”

a brief shadow of sorrow crossed the pope’s face.

though it was quickly replaced by his benevolent expression, the moment wasn’t subtle enough to miss.

was there some history between them?

one thing was clear: the woman, who appeared to be a widow, did not have an ordinary past.

why had she, once a saint, fallen from her position?

why had she been exiled to the outskirts, only to return to the vatican as an accused witch?

i couldn’t say.

still, i needed her.

if it came down to it, i was prepared to try to save her, even if she was accused of being a witch.

“it would be better if you forgot again.”

it seemed such measures wouldn’t be necessary, however.

the pope simply placed his hand gently on her head.

“be at peace, free from the pain of memory.”

a brief, radiant light flashed.

the woman’s body slumped, her strength drained.

“ariane.”

the pope’s solemn voice echoed in the chamber.

her unconscious form bore an uncanny resemblance to one of the heroines i knew.