Dong! Dong! Dong…
Morning.
Just as the sun peeked out, urgent bells rang through the Sanctuary, pealing over and over, echoing among the mountains.
Damian set down his shovel and arched a brow.
This was the second time today, and the bells were getting more urgent.
When the Sanctuary's alarm bells sound, it means the Pope is assembling Saints. Those who hear them gather at once and await an audience.
They only ring the alarm when something special happens in the Sanctuary.
The second alarm meant the Pope was summoning all Saints in the Sanctuary except the Gold Saints.
Was Saga about to declare war on some faction?
Was it to get rid of a gravekeeper like him?
Damian chuckled.
The strength he'd shown was only Silver-level. He didn't believe Saga would mobilize half the Sanctuary to deal with him.
And if they did, worst case, he'd flip the table with a Titan Nova and expose Saga on the spot for killing the previous Pope and scheming to murder Athena.
Let's see who's afraid of whom!
"This… is another empty grave."
Setting the shovel down, Damian clicked his tongue.
There were many empty graves in the vast Sanctuary graveyard. Time had rotted many of the remains. Though his telekinesis sensed bones within, they had completely lost their power.
The instant he finished refurbishing such a grave, the bones within would crumble. A wasted effort.
He'd planned to fix up more graves, farm more attributes and moves, maybe even discover a Gold Saint's grave. The haul had been meager.
He was used to it by now. Ever since finding the Cloth tomb, he'd been in a cold streak. No good graves discovered. The attributes he extracted were pitiful.
"Damian—Senior Brother Damian, the Pope summons you!"
Before long, Cassios's voice came from the graveyard gate.
"Huh?"
Watching Cassios run up, Damian called out, puzzled, "Cassios, you sure you didn't get it wrong?"
"I'm a gravekeeper. What does the Pope want with me?"
"Senior brother, the Pope named you to attend and told me to come get you."
Cassios repeated the Pope's order.
"So the time's come after all…"
Right. Pope Saga was coming for him.
Petty to a fault.
They'd traded blows—he'd dodged the hidden arrow. Now came the open spear.
A spear's easy to block; arrows are hard to avoid.
I dodged the arrow. Why fear the spear?
Throwing on his cloak, Damian headed straight for the designated square.
All along the way, figures in Cloths converged from all directions—Seiya among them.
Many Saints picked up speed, turning into streaks of lightning as they flashed toward the square.
Everyone knew two peals meant an emergency.
Damian strolled in late—last to arrive.
He had barely stopped when a Silver Saint covered in blood knelt, panting, and shouted up toward the Pope, "The vanguard in… in Italy was attacked by an unknown force. I got separated from the other Silver Saints… I only know the Silver Saints led by Shaina are missing…"
Frowns creased faces all around. Their expressions sharpened.
No one had expected the Silver vanguard sent to Italy to be attacked again.
Damian frowned slightly. Shaina's disappearance wasn't good news.
Was it Specters?
The Pope looked to Marin and issued orders: "Commanders for this mission are Marin of Aquila, Silver Saint, and Misty of Lizard."
"The Saints called will be dispatched to Sicily, Italy, to search for the missing Silver Saints and resolve the crisis on the island."
"Misty of Lizard."
"Moses of the White Whale."
"Adrian of Canes Venatici."
"Dadi of Cerberus."
"Dio of Musca."
"Derimi of Sagitta."
"Arujedi of Hercules."
"Seiya of Pegasus."
"Gravekeeper Damian."
"Those named will join this operation."
At the end, everyone blinked.
No one had imagined the Pope would send seven Silver Saints at once.
Besides the Bronze Saint Seiya of Pegasus, he'd even dispatched a gravekeeper.
Damian rolled his eyes at His Holiness.
Saga was really something—sending a gravekeeper without a Cloth out on a mission. Was this training—or a setup?
And… he'd made Marin mission commander.
Didn't he know Marin and he were at daggers drawn?
After he'd seen Marin's face, he was on her must-kill list.
On this mission, Sister Marin would definitely make trouble.
When the Pope finished, he gave Damian a meaningful look, then turned and left.
Marin's gaze swept the group. She was about to give orders when her eyes stopped on Damian. A hidden killing intent spread.
Damian said nothing, a smile at the corner of his mouth, utterly calm—like a dead pig unafraid of boiling water.
"Damian, your performance in the Cloth battle was impressive."
"His Holiness intends to put you through a trial."
"This operation is dangerous. No one will be responsible for your safety."
Marin's tone left no courtesy—cold as ice.
Damian knew she was laying down a gauntlet—plainly planning to make things hard.
He said simply, "I'm just a gravekeeper. If I go, no one will watch the graveyard. I'm worried about it."
"Worried about the graveyard? I'll have Cassios guard it for now and look after it."
Marin chuckled. "Don't get clever. Anyone who disobeys the Pope's order—even a Saint—will be executed on the spot."
"…"
Damian shrugged. Saga clearly wanted him dead.
It would be easier to act outside than within the Sanctuary.
Fine. One step at a time.
Wherever he was, without a Gold Saint, no one could threaten him.
Even if Saga came himself, he had no fear now.
As for Marin—a crowd of Saints gathered around her.
Her figure was hot; her popularity rivaled Shaina's—always sky-high. Rumor had it many Saints pursued Marin—bringing flowers and gifts.
The figure alone was a charm stat. Marin's face was high-tier too.
A pity—in Damian's eyes, a woman with innate charm was a femme fatale, a stumbling block to Cosmo bursts.
If she hadn't provoked him last time and he hadn't accidentally knocked off her mask, they could have stayed at peace.
Looking at Marin, he saw the beautiful eyes under her mask fixed on him—heated, almost smoldering.
Was his rugged physique too manly—did Sister Marin fall for him?
No way…
.
At Athens International Airport in Greece, a strange group of travelers appeared.
They carried huge metal chests on their backs, faces blank, drifting through the airport as if alone, then boarded a special Boeing 747 via a VIP lane in a neat line.
At their head was a curvy woman wearing a mask. She wasn't tall, but her figure was voluptuous and well-proportioned. With a fluttering short skirt, she drew eyes—and stirred men's imaginations.
"Who are they? This plane is reserved for heads of state and tycoons. Do these people have some special background?"
A blonde flight attendant on board watched and asked the captain beside her.
This acting captain had just joined the crew—said to be seasoned, specifically sent to pilot this flight. He probably knew something.
"Their identity is special—likely no less than those big shots. From what I know, there are powerful, hidden forces in the world…"
The gray-templed captain was cryptic, a charming smile on his lips as he personally welcomed the chest-laden oddities aboard.
"Not bad—a Boeing 747, and the flight attendants wear short skirts and stockings. All long-legged blondes with the hallmarks of Europa—so pretty it bubbles."
"Truly an '80s vibe."
Damian, looking around, was the last to board.
All along the way, he felt rich foreign flavor.
It was his first time leaving the Sanctuary since crossing over. Seeing the young, beautiful European attendants and all the Europeans with different hair colors passing by—
It felt great.
Like going abroad on vacation.
And everyone enjoyed the highest VIP service in the airport—smiling tall attendants at every step, even dedicated police security.
It felt like receiving some great personage—missing only layers of journalists.
That was the Sanctuary's authority.
Likely every nation in the world was under Saga's thumb.
Power is really something!
Rumble…
The Boeing 747's engines thundered.
As the plane took off, the journey to Sicily officially began…