William sat on his wooden chair with a pale expression. In front of him, there was a redheaded woman, Mary, who wore a pitch-black set of armor. Behind her, there were twelve men lying on the ground. The majority of them were unconscious, but the few who weren’t were curled up in the fetal position while quietly groaning. One of them was even choking back muffled sobs. William had seen what Mary did to the twelve keepers of the Lord, and judging from how she was standing, he’d suffer the same fate next. “W-wait,” he said. His voice was cracking, but he didn’t pay it any mind. “I’m just an ordinary person compared to them. If you hit me that hard, I’ll die.”

Mary tilted her head. “But you seemed like the leader.”

“In a sense, I am the leader—wait, wait, wait!” William stuck his hands out, hoping to protect his face as he curled into a ball, falling out of his chair in the process. “I’m the leader because the keepers have no rank in the church! They’re shadows, people that aren’t supposed to exist!”

Mary retracted her fist and frowned. She knew all about having shadows, underlings that would listen to her every order, but this man’s words confused her even further. “How do you control them if you’re so weak?” she asked. “Aren’t you afraid of them killing you to take your position?”

“They would never do something like that,” William said. “They’re the keepers of the Lord, the descendants of the twelve apostles of Jesus Christ. They’ll never betray the pope as long as he works in the church’s best interest.”

Mary blinked. “Is this pope very strong?”

“He’s very strong,” William said, “but only politically. If you’re talking about his physical strength, then honestly, he might be even weaker than me.”

Mary’s brow furrowed, and she turned to look at the fallen men behind her. The furrow in her brow deepened when she realized none of them were in any state to answer her questions. She turned back to the archbishop and crossed her hands over her chest. “I declare myself the new pope.”

“T-that’s … not something you can declare,” William said in a tiny voice. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice under Mary’s cold gaze.

Mary snorted. “Didn’t you say you’d submit before me? Do you disagree with my position?”

“N-no,” William said and shook his head. “You’re the new pope. All hail Pope Mary.”

Mary nodded. “Spread the word. I’m the new pope. Anyone who disagrees can come visit me personally, and I’ll convince them.” She turned around and nudged one of the still conscious men with her foot. “You’re fine with that, yes?”

The groaning man clutched his side, the area that Mary had nudged. “Yes, you’re the new pope. We don’t have the strength to disagree with you.” He rolled onto his back and sat up. “You’ve completely convinced us to work under you.”

“Is that so,” Mary said and looked around. The few conscious men bobbed their heads up and down. A bright smile appeared on her face. “See? All your discontented expressions are gone now and replaced with fear. Aren’t you glad I gave you a thrashing?”

The men exchanged glances with each other, wanting to cry. Were they supposed to thank Mary for attacking them? She had said she came here looking for a demon, but why did it seem like the real demon was her? Before they could decide on what to say, there was a knocking sound coming from the door which had been closed sometime during the thrashing. All the men in the room turned towards Mary. “Come in,” she said and took a seat on the chair that the archbishop had been sitting on.

The door opened, and a figure wearing white robes took a step inside the room. The rolled-up paper in his hand fell to the ground, and he froze. He swallowed and looked around before bending down, picking up the paper. “T-there’s a report for you, Archbishop William.”

“Hand it over,” Mary said and stretched out her hand. The white-robed figure scurried up to Mary and bowed while handing her the paper. He stiffened upon seeing the blood dripping from Mary’s gauntlets. “I-I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“Hold on,” Mary said, stopping the white-robed figure midturn.

The white-robed figure swallowed and gave Mary a shaky smile. “Yes? Was there something else?”

“I’m the pope now.” Mary nodded and gestured with her hand. “You can go.”

The man’s gaze shifted from Mary to the archbishop, who didn’t say anything, before shifting back to Mary. “I’ll be going then, Your Holiness.” He left the room, shutting the door behind himself under everyone’s stiff gazes.

Mary opened the paper in her hands, staining a corner of it with blood. Her brow furrowed, and she grasped her sword’s hilt. However, even after doing that, she still couldn’t understand what was written on the paper. She turned her head and waved the paper at the archbishop. “Read it out loud.”

William grabbed the paper, avoiding the bloodstain in the corner, and cleared his throat. “An extremely dangerous witch has been located on the borders of the Kingdom of Hungary. The Ottomans care not that she’s a witch and has chosen to recruit her for their war efforts. She’s said to be the righthand woman of Suleiman, the emperor of the Ottomans. She has monstrous strength, according to those who witnessed it, she destroyed the reinforced walls of Belgrade, a fortress city, by hitting it with a shield until the wall collapsed. Sending ordinary inquisitors to apprehend her would be sending them to their deaths. The twelve keepers of the Lord must take action. Prioritize capturing her before quashing the peasant uprising. Leo X.”

“Leo X?” Mary asked once it was clear there was nothing else on the paper.

“That’s the name of the pope, um, ex-pope,” William said. “Only the pope can order the keepers of the Lord into action.”

Mary nodded. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s apprehend this witch. I think I might know her.”