"Inviting Saints from all over the world to the Galaxian Wars, using one-on-one single-elimination to advance, with the ultimate prize being the legendary Gold Cloth and 50 million dollars. Even if you don't take the championship, the runner-up gets… 100 million… dollars in… prize money, and third place gets 50 million. Add up the top ten prizes and it's… several hundred million, and in U.S. dollars. Gotta say, even I'm tempted. With that kind of money, you can do whatever you want, right? The Graad Foundation is really going all out." Holding a flyer titled "Mysterious Saints × Strongest Humans × Galaxian Wars," even the Silver Saints, the backbone of the Sanctuary, couldn't help but draw a sharp breath at the rewards listed.
"No kidding. If not for His Holiness's orders, never mind you—even I'd be tempted. A championship Gold Cloth, and even the runner-up can eat and drink easy for life. Tsk, tsk." Another Silver Saint sighed as well.
Don't think Saints in the Sanctuary never worry about food and clothing—that's nonsense. An organization as huge as the Sanctuary burns through staggering expenses every day, and Saints don't produce anything. Where would they get that much spare cash?
Even Silver Saints can only manage a modest middle-class life each month. Sure, they don't go hungry, but their purchasing power is limited—and it's the same for Gold Saints.
As for Sanctuary grunts and Saint candidates… not starving is already a small blessing amid misfortune.
Since snatching the papal throne, Saga had focused on cultivating Silver Saints, but the Sanctuary was still living like ascetics under Shion's rule. If he wasn't training private Saints, he was playing "guess who I am" with the shards of his split personality.
Who has the time to improve Saints' livelihoods? The only income Saints have is going around the world handling supernatural incidents. But how many such cases really require the Sanctuary to deploy Saints? You think countries don't have black-ops units? They may not be as strong as Saints, but they can handle internal affairs just fine.
Asking the Sanctuary to step in—how embarrassing. This isn't antiquity, nor 240-plus years ago. This is the modern age of information, and it travels fast.
So while Saints look sharp on the surface in their flashy armor, they're broke. For an ordinary Saint, buying a car is a pipe dream.
Why else do you think Saints travel on foot these days? You think sprinting around the world at sonic and supersonic speeds is fun? Ever heard of saving stamina? They're broke, that's why.
They can't afford plane tickets, and the Sanctuary won't reimburse them. Who'd shell out for that?
How much does a round trip cost by air? Why do you think Saori Kido, even after inheriting the Sanctuary, never severed ties with the Graad Foundation?
Why? Because the Graad Foundation is one of the world's biggest conglomerates—with money. After living as a modern rich young lady, asking her to return to a 15th-century ascetic life? Even if she's Athena, choosing the hard road when there's a comfier one is a masochist's hobby.
With Akatsuki working hand-in-hand with the Graad Foundation, they'll easily win over plenty of Saints drifting outside the Sanctuary in these Galaxian Wars.
Of course, that's if they can stand up to the Sanctuary in the end. Those Saints outside the fold are all wily old hands.
"Enough! I don't want to hear any more private grousing. His Holiness's command is not to be defied. Be ready. When the Galaxian Wars begin, that's when we cleanse the trash for the Sanctuary." The speaker was Cerberus Dante, the officer in charge of this mission.
Though Dante wasn't as strong as White Whale, Lizard, or Perseus among the Silver Saints, he was still a name among them.
In his eyes, subduing a mere bunch of Bronze Saints and a corporate rabble was child's play.
The Pope attached great weight to this mission. There could be no mistakes.
With Canis Major Silver Saint Sirius and Musca Silver Saint Dio present, Dante did have the capital to speak that way.
"Understood." They might not be as strong as Dante, but as fellow Silver Saints—and since Dante wasn't top-tier like Misty, Argol, or Noesis—they weren't buying into his swagger. They'd obey only because the Pope ordered them to.
Silver Saints looking down on each other is common enough—and the same goes for Golds. Friends they may be, but since ancient times, the pen has no first place and the sword no second—no one admits they're worse than the next guy.
Friends are friends, but admitting you're stronger than me? Not happening.
Asgard
"Lady Hilda." Outside the frigid palace, a handsome, dark-skinned man with golden hair dropped to one knee before a gentle, refined beauty.
"Hagen, what is it?" Hilda asked softly. The dark-skinned man before her was the future God Warrior Hagen.
"The Graad Foundation in District 11 has spent the last half month inviting Saints from all over the world to a tournament called the Galaxian Wars. The ultimate reward is… a Gold Cloth of the Sanctuary. Lady Hilda, shall we—"
"No need. Say no more. Asgard has always kept to itself, and we've no reason to involve ourselves." Hilda cut him off before he finished. She had not yet put on the cursed ring.
Not yet controlled by the Sea Emperor's ambition, she upheld Asgard's long-standing neutrality.
"Yes." As one of Hilda's most loyal warriors, Hagen replied respectfully, without another question.
Sea Realm, Sea God Temple
"Galaxian Wars? Competing over a mere Gold Cloth? A gaggle of ignorant mortals…" That was the reaction of the Sea Generals—aside from Kanon—upon hearing the news.
Underworld
With most Specters still sealed, the Underworld was even more detached than Asgard.
No manpower. Even if you want to contend, you need people.
Organizations large and small around the world all paid close attention to the Galaxian Wars.
This open provocation of the Sanctuary had many factions cheering.
Undercurrents were surging.
The second-largest power in the North besides Asgard.
The Valhalla Church
"Greetings, Lord Doluba. As you predicted, the Galaxian Wars will be held in District 11 in a week. Saints from all over the world will surely gather." Three Saints in armor reported to a man in a purple battle robe seated high on a throne, sword in hand.
"My lord, shall we act?" asked a man in blue-green armor—the chief of the three Valhalla officers, Loki. The same name as the Norse evil god.
Doluba didn't answer immediately. He sat on the throne, quietly pondering.
"The victor gets a Gold Cloth… quite the gesture. What's the Sanctuary's stance?" Doluba finally asked.
"The Graad Foundation's contempt for the Sanctuary has infuriated most of the Silver Saints, and even some Golds volunteered for the mission. But the Pope didn't agree—he only dispatched a few Silvers. Who knows what the Pope is thinking."
"Oh? Only Silver Saints?" Doluba paced back and forth, weighing the pros and cons. In the end, the lure of a Gold Cloth was too great. As Odin's "proxy," Valhalla could trick common folk in the North, but as its leader, Doluba knew exactly what they'd once been. Odin's proxy? He didn't even know what Odin looked like. The entire Valhalla Church didn't have a single statue of Odin.
To put it nicely, they were Ice Warriors independent of the Saints. More bluntly, they were Athena's forgotten.
Their predecessors were just Saints ordered by Athena to guard Poseidon's seal.
Luckily, the Asgard next door wasn't hawkish and tolerated Valhalla's existence—otherwise, life in the North for Valhalla might be worse than for the Dark Saints on Death Queen Island.
"…In that case, Loki, Lunge, Ullr—you three will accompany me to District 11. Let's see this so-called Galaxian Wars for ourselves." A Gold Cloth would be far better than their shabby armor. What they wore now could hardly be called Saint Cloths anymore. With time and wear, they'd mixed in amethyst—the same material used in God Robes.
The new armors were publicly called God Robes, privately called Ice Cloths. In truth, their Ice Cloths enjoyed neither Athena's constellational blessing nor the Odin Sapphire's buff.
So they'd be at a real disadvantage if clashes broke out with outside forces.
Doluba was ambitious and extremely arrogant. He refused to stagnate. The appearance of a Gold Cloth offered new hope.
If the Sanctuary were deploying Gold Saints, Doluba might have squashed the thought. But only Silver Saints? That meant Doluba had a chance to pocket the Gold Cloth.
Once he had it, he believed his strength would soar. This was an opportunity—one to rise.
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