The letter did not take long to arrive.
Within moments of being sent, it materialized silently upon a polished desk inside the Holy Empire's central administration right before the eyes of the Pope's secretary.
Tressa froze.
Her gaze locked onto the seal.
The crest of Great Presia.
Her expression changed instantly.
Without wasting another second, she grabbed the letter and rushed out of the chamber, her footsteps echoing sharply through the marble halls. She stopped before a grand door and knocked twice.
Hard.
The door opened almost immediately.
Archbishop Desmond Herman stood there, his expression calm at first—but it shifted the moment he saw her urgency.
"What is it, Tressa?"
She didn't speak.
She simply held out the letter.
Desmond's eyes fell upon the seal.
"…From Roman."
"Yes, my lord," Tressa replied, her voice steady but quick.
Desmond took the letter from her hands without delay.
"Is His Holiness available?"
"He is in prayer," she answered. "At the statue of Goddess Aria."
Desmond nodded once.
"I'll see him."
Tressa stepped back as he turned, already moving with purpose.
The corridors of the Holy Empire were vast and silent, but Desmond's pace was anything but slow.
His cloak trailed behind him as he walked swiftly toward the inner sanctum the place where the Pope often sought solitude.
Soon, he reached a large set of doors.
He paused briefly.
Then spoke.
"Your Holiness… I am coming in."
Without waiting further, he opened the door.
Inside, the air was different.
Still.
Sacred.
At the center of the chamber stood a towering statue of Goddess Aria, her expression serene, her presence overwhelming.
Before it
The Pope knelt.
Head bowed.
Hands clasped.
Praying.
"…Grant them strength," his voice murmured softly into the silence. "Grant them the will to stand… and the power to endure what is coming."
Desmond stepped inside and cleared his throat lightly.
"Your Holiness."
The Pope did not turn immediately.
But he listened.
"A letter has arrived."
A brief pause.
"It is from the Warherald… Roman Crowell."
That was enough.
The Pope rose instantly.
No hesitation.
No delay.
He turned and walked toward Desmond, his expression sharp, focused.
"Give it to me."
Desmond handed over the letter.
The Pope broke the seal and read.
His eyes moved quickly across the contents.
Roman's inquiries were precise.
Direct.
Dungeon conditions.
Monster behavior.
Global preparations.
Barrier installations.
Bunker constructions.
When he finished
He exhaled slowly.
"…We must reply immediately."
Desmond nodded.
Without wasting time, both of them moved to a nearby table. Papers were brought. Ink prepared.
The Pope sat down.
And began to write.
Warherald Roman Crowell,
I pray this letter finds you in good health.
Allow me to first extend my blessings… and my congratulations on the successful integration of Ephor into Presia. The formation of the Great Presia Dukedom has not gone unnoticed. Your actions have brought stability where there was once disorder.
The quill paused briefly.
Then continued.
As for the matters you have inquired about
The situation is… deteriorating.
His expression hardened slightly as he wrote.
The monsters emerging from the dungeons are no longer the same.
Their strength has increased beyond expected parameters.
Their behavior… has changed.
And the world itself is beginning to reflect it.
The ink flowed steadily.
Dark mana is spreading through the environment. Subtle at first… but now undeniable.
It lingers in the air, seeps into the land… and affects everything it touches.
Desmond watched silently.
Casualties have risen.
Where once two Holy Knights were sufficient to eliminate a single monster… we now require ten to twelve.
A brief pause.
Even our higher-ranking forces are facing increasing difficulty.
Engagements that were once manageable have become prolonged and dangerous.
The tone of the letter shifted.
More serious.
In response, we have deployed our strongest assets.
The Twelve Paladins have been stationed across the kingdoms and empires, each assigned to oversee and defend a designated territory.
The Pope continued writing.
As you are aware
Captain Gabriel Velk has been assigned to the Clover Kingdom.
Vice-Captain Ezra Violet remains within the Holy Empire.
The remaining Paladins have taken position across the continent, supported by their apprentices.
The quill moved without pause.
However… not all nations have accepted our support.
Several regions, particularly in the eastern territories, have refused cooperation.
Diplomatic efforts are ongoing… but progress is limited.
A faint crease formed on his brow.
As for your contributions—
The barrier orbs you provided have been successfully installed across multiple regions.
Their effectiveness has been confirmed.
Desmond's eyes flickered slightly.
We have also instructed all allied nations to construct defensive bunkers for civilian protection.
Most have complied.
Preparations, as a whole, are progressing.
The Pope's grip on the quill tightened slightly.
Our forces remain on standby.
The artillery divisions… the healers… the High Clergy… and the Crusaders have all been deployed to their respective positions.
Every unit stands ready.
Then
He slowed.
And yet…
The ink pressed deeper into the parchment.
I cannot ignore this feeling.
A presence…
A disturbance that cannot be seen… but can be felt.
The room seemed quieter.
Heavier.
It feels as though something long dormant… has begun to awaken.
Desmond said nothing.
And if that is true
Then this may become the most devastating breakout humanity has ever faced.
A pause.
The final lines were written with care.
I pray that Goddess Aria watches over us.
That she grants strength to those who will stand against what is to come.
A final stroke.
And to you, Warherald
May she grant you the power to protect her creations.
The Pope placed the quill down.
Blessings upon you, Roman Crowell.
Silence followed.
The letter was complete.
The Pope stared at it for a moment.
Then, without hesitation, activated the return channel.
The parchment shimmered faintly
And vanished.
Far away
In Ephor
That answer was already on its way.