As they advanced deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of Mael Boss's speech, Mael and Arte encountered more and more of the underground place's denizens.

Aside from the two opponents they individually faced and the teleporter boy, they encountered dozens, if not hundreds, of other people, half of whom were dressed in white coats and the other half in dark coats.

The ones in white coats appeared to be scientists of some sort, in charge of whatever experiment was going on in this place, whereas the ones in dark coats, like the cousin's two opponents, appeared to be holding a more enforcing duty, as unlike the white-coated ones, who seemed to focus solely on evacuating away from Mael and Arte, only the black-coated one stood in the way of the duo. Unfortunately for them, none of them were a match for the two cousins. Yet they kept coming, only to suddenly stop at one point.

"Hey Mael, did you notice it?"

Nodding, Mael confirmed, "Yes, I did. They stopped coming in to swarm us."

The dark-coated men no longer got in their way, nor did they come at them; instead, they started to retreat deeper into the labyrinth.

"It’s a good thing, right?"

"I would like to answer that question of yours positively, but who knows? The fact that they are making a retreat suggests that wherever they are retreating, there is some place they feel safe retreating to."

Getting his cousin’s point, Arte understood that they may no longer have to deal with goons, like they did in Basillica, who, despite being difficult to deal with, were quite difficult to restrain when coming with the persistence of a suicidal swarm, but they might still stumble upon guard dogs like the two previous ones they encountered.

It has been a good half an hour, that Mael and Arte have been striding across the alley, rooms, and halls of every size, yet there seems to be no end to it.

"Just how big is this place?" Arte sighed.

"Maybe not as big as it looks."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I’ve noticed… Remember how I told you I had a bad feeling about this place?"

"I remember you saying you were feeling cramped as though being kept inside a closed bottle."

"Exactly, this is just a guess, but I am under the impression that this place is not as enormous as it appears. It most likely operates the same way, Xavier’s space magic operates."

Xavier’s magic, allowed him to create a space within which he was able to store things—generally little things, to be exact. Though the full extent of the potential of his magic has yet to be determined, he is, as of now, capable of storing items within the space and restoring them at will.

"So you're saying we've been shrunk or something?"

"I don't think we're shrinking; I just think this place, akin to an artifact of some sort, is using some sort of space manipulation magic to make itself bigger than it should be," Mael explained, seeing his cousin's puzzled expression. "To be honest with you, I'm not sure of anything; I just drew this theory by observing that teleporter boy. Remember how he teleported us earlier?"

Arte nodded.

"Didn’t you notice something wrong with it? Surely you have noticed what was wrong with how he was able to teleport us?"

Arte remained silent for a moment, pondering about Mael’s question.

It was only dozens of steps later that it finally hit him, "I get... he was able to teleport, you and I. He shouldn’t be able to do that… Or at least my father's teleportation magic wasn't able to do that."

"Exactly,… Teleportation is a magic that, like most elemental magics, seems to follow a set of written rules that all, if not most, of its wielders throughout the years have abided by. Among these rules is the one of direct contact, which I’m sure you know.

Mael was right. Arte could attest to that as his father; back when he was still alive to use his teleportation, two things were required of him by his magic: the first being a chunk of that person's flesh, in most cases a finger, that he would have placed as a beacon at the expected destination, and the second being direct contact. Without these two components, the only thing he could perform was a short-range teleportation of only himself.

"That time... " I don't think the boy teleported us; I think it was more about him controlling the place as though it were some sort of artifact, than him teleporting us." Arte and Mael said as they came to a halt and looked down at the ground. "I'm fairly confident I would have felt it if I were to be teleported, and back then I felt no such thing."

" Though I failed to take care of the teleporter boy, I doubt he would still get in our way, but I doubt only him alone has such power over this place. I could be wrong, or I could be right, but just to be safe, I strongly recommend vigilance. While we thought we simply entered the beast, we might have failed to understand that we even entered its maw."

As they spoke, the duo arrived at a metallic door that was more imposing than any other door they had ever seen, but more importantly, unlike any other door, the door opened by itself.

"Let’s just hope it won't close on us then."

Throwing a last glance behind them, Mael said, "Hope, huh... I guess that's the best we can do in this situation," before walking into the large circular room ahead of them.

The room stood out not only because of its unique circular shape but also because of the men and women who seemed to be waiting for them at one end of the room, between them and a massive mass of crystal, similar to the one Nobles spent their eternal rest in.

Two women and seven men, dressed similarly and carrying the same demeanor as Lord Paladin Dolloway, stood ahead, their swords unsheathed yet so clearly battle ready. A glance at the nine of them suggested that they were experienced fighters, but there was one man who did not fit that description standing behind them.

The man was old, balding, and yet white-bearded. He wore a white priestly outfit, upon which was engraved on the chest the sigil of a golden snake coiling around a red dagger.

And, while he wasn't as physically imposing as the others, there was no denying that something about his presence, his demeanor, made it impossible to ignore him.

As Mael and Arte, their guards up, got closer and closer to them, they noticed what was inside the gigantic crystal.

"Young Mael, it was you two—the source of all of this commotion."

The old man didn’t introduce himself; he didn’t have to, for both Mael and Arte knew very well who that person was, just as he knew them.

Mael and Arte recognized him as the man their parents had, for so long, had to answer to. Seated at the same table as the Fourteen as one of seven archbishops, Loran Whiteley was the man who made Mael and Arte's parents' decade-long research about children of light possible.

"So it was really you!" sulked Arte.

"What might bring you two here? What could reasonably explain this behavior you displayed in my facility?" The man asked calmly, yet one would hardly fail to notice the threat these simple words were cloaked in.

"What brought us here?! You already know why we're here, right? All the girls you and your men have abducted off the Rose Blanche, where ar—"

Maed reached over his shoulder and stopped Arte before he could finish. Mael walked past him and cast a sorrowful glance at him. "We've come too late for them," Mael confessed.

Understanding the suggestion behind Mael's words, Arte's face turned pale as he remembered the fire that Mael had claimed had already been lit by someone else before his arrival.

"Let's spare each other needless charades, Archbishop. Men acting on your orders abducted four girls in the lower district yesterday: three Rose Blanche flowers and a noble girl: a fellow Academy scholar of Arte and I. I request that the four of them be restored to where they belong. It has only been one day; whatever it is that you are up to down here, I at least believe we acted quickly enough before something without undoing took place."

The man didn’t immediately answer, but after a short pause, he confirmed, "Indeed, nothing. Nothing had been done to your comrade. She is safe."

"The three girls?" Arte jumped on the chance to ask.

"They, too, are safe."

"Where are they?!"

"Somewhere in this facility," the archbishop smiled, "unharmed," he reassured immediately.

The room fell silent in response to these words; only glances were exchanged.

"You don’t trust my words?"

Mael and Arte both responded with just a silence.

"I see that the two of you hold rather hostile opinions against me... You are free to believe whatever you want, but the fact remains that the four of them are safe. We never meant them harm; it was never our intention.

"You’ll excuse me, but it is difficult to thrust them after what I’ve seen," Mael intervened, his voice clearly pissed, "and none of them seemed unharmed to me."

"Them? … Oh that."

"What? You’re not going to tell me that what you did to them was just an accident, are you?"

"I was not. Indeed, I was the one to blame for that. Their deaths were due to my incompetence. As any scientist, I seek breakthroughs— ones that generations to come will benefit from. But breakthroughs are made at a cost."

"So that's what these girls were to you—expendables to pay the cost of your so-called breakthrough?"

"Not expendable. Martyr of a greater good."

"Greater good?! You made them bear it to their deaths! Some even before it reaches a lethal point, meaning that you actively did something to them that led to their death. I fail to see where the greater good is here."

"It is because you fail to see the greater picture, Mael. I was roughly your age when I was imparted the truth, so allow me to impart it upon you, both of you," the Archbishop announced before proceeding on. "Have you ever wondered why it is that only among us humans does that strange phenomenon exist—the birth of a child of light? Why is birth such a dangerous matter for us nobles?

Why are some people born with more talent and a greater mana pool than others? Why such a great and strange disparity? From a very young age, I have been through all these questions. These questions I had were exclusive to the human race, as those phenomena cannot be observed in any other race. There are no children of light in the monster kingdom; there is no such difficulty for monsters to spawn offspring; there is no such great and innate disparity of mana pool and talent between monsters of the same race. As condescending as it is to say, we, humans, stand apart from any other living being."

Turning around to face the giant crystal behind which he stood, he clarified, "Indeed we are special, yet as special as I would like to believe we are so special, it remains an undeniable fact that we don’t amount to much in the eyes of dragons, let alone of the gods."

"The gods?"

"Yes, the gods. Do you believe in their existence, Mael?"

"I do, but I’m not gullible enough to have you make me believe that the gods have anything to do with whatever you are up to down here."

"Yet they are. Seeking answers to the questions that plagued me, I sought the truth—the true one, not the one dogmatically fed to us. Both of your parents joined me in my quests, just as I had, and they wondered the same question that they had been wondering about for years.

"This might be the case... but—"

"My father was nothing like you!" intervened Arte.

To Arte’s words, the man merely slyly smiled, "Perhaps,... I never claimed he was. I merely said his heart was lit by the questions that had once lit mine. One that, if the greater truth hadn't already been imparted upon me, would have remained lit in my heart to this day.

"What greater truth?"

"The one that we, magic-wielding living beings, nobles and magical beasts alike, are merely a part of something bigger, something beyond the understanding of most of us."

"You mean, like a god."

At these words, the Archbishop, who up until now had his back facing Arte and Mael, suddenly, at Mael’s words, turned around, his eyes widening in surprise, announcing, "Indeed, a god. I see that you already get it, Mael."

"God, diminutive though that word be to describe all that it might be, is that which those we call Apostles that made them become what they were," the Archbishop explained, perhaps pleased with Mael's understanding of where he came from. "And thus give birth to what is now known as nobility."

"I myself do not believe myself to be sage to the point of knowing much about how infinitely powerful a god can be, but I believe you, as I have seen a glimpse of how powerful they can be, two years ago, in these things we stubbornly call "calamities."

"Dragons…"

"Yes, dragons, or, to be precise, primordial elemental dragons. Seven of eight dragons who are said to have been born of a single dragon: Rena, the dragon that is believed to have been born of the original goddess Aina."

"Our oldest records of such a being note that the goddess herself has long since departed from this world, but unfortunately for us, there remains among us in this world the presence of other of her kin, dead and slumbering, existing alongside us as a part of us, awaiting only their return and awakening, as death is merely a state, a temporary phase for them. The apostles, our ancestors, may have felt blessed to have bestowed magic, but they failed to understand the curse that came along with it."

"What am I supposed to understand here? That magic was bestowed upon them with a purpose?"

Reaching onto the giant crystal behind him, the archbishop confirmed, "It is."

"It might not have been the case for the apostle, but it is without a doubt that magic was imparted upon monsters, which became what we call "magic beasts," with the same purpose as any living being: to multiply, to expand, to spread."

"So you mean th—" Mael's cousin cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"You… Whose remnants… whose remnants is that?"

When Arte walked into that room, the first thing he noticed was the massive crystal, upon which remained the remnant of a woman.

Understanding the reason behind his cousin’s question, Mael clarified what he understood of the situation: "Arte, that is not a remnant."

Mael could not tell if the body belonged to a noble or a commoner, but he was certain that the corpse was not a remnant. In contrast to a commoner corpse, a noble remnant radiates a certain magical presence, something that Mael's fifth sense was particularly attuned to.

"Whose remnant is this?" Arte insisted.

The man took his time to answer, but eventually did. "Your cousin is right, young Mael. That is no remnant. Her death was such that she could not, at her death, become a remnant. A great loss, truly. She was, to put it mildly, a mother to us all."

At the mention of the word "mother," both Mael and Arte immediately understood who the man was referring to. The Archbishop’s next words confirmed the duo’s assessment.

"This is Apostle Sora, the Daughter of Mountains. or at least that is what remains of her."

Mother of the seven great families. Mother of the Church. The Noble Mother. The Mother. Over many years, she has gone by many names, but mother she will always be.After all, she was one of the original seven, one of the first to make contact with what we now refer to as magic. What do you think she might’ve seen back then? That we will never know."

Remembering his words, the clues, and what he had seen with his own eyes, Mael revolted as he understood how profane the archbishop had proved himself to be. He asked, "What... have you been up to with her corpse? Don’t tell me she was the reason you were abducting pregnant flowers?"

Although most of the archbishop's words seemed nonsensical, Mael was able to make some sense of them. The archbishop did not fail to notice this.

"Putting aside the fact that you stormed this place on your own, you're surprisingly sharper than I imagined you to be, Mael."

These words pretty much confirmed Mael's assumption.

"You were right; she was one of the reasons why. But she's not the only reason. Before I explain to you, allow me to share with you two a little bit of wisdom from the church's earliest predecessor."

"What we proudly call 'magic,' our magic, is something that belongs to a god, who imparted it with the intent of having us spread and multiply it on her behalf, only for her to one day recover it from us. I'm fairly certain the two of you can imagine how recovering what has been, so to speak, 'grafted' onto us will take place. But in case you can't, let me make it clear that it will be the end of us all. My predecessors, the Pontifex's predecessors, have foreseen this catastrophic outcome and have dedicated their lives across the years to protecting mankind against the threat of the awakening of the being from which we received the gift of magic. It was then, in the accomplishment of their duty, that the first of us faced a very primeval dilemma: the only thing they had to protect themselves from the entity they were against was the very thing that would bring their doom: magic."

"It was there that a novel idea emerged: the barrier and the church, as we now know both of them, were born of the man born of Sora and Huye."

"There were not only one but two barriers before the one we can observe today; the first and original one was Solomon's, which was replaced after his departure by Djeem’s. It was at the establishment of the church by the second Pontiff that the barrier protecting humanity from monsters became the church’s barrier."

"The barrier was erected to protect humanity from monsters, while also keeping a dutiful watch to protect humanity from the influence of the divine. The fact that we are still here today is proof that the barrier has always more successfully fulfilled its purpose across the millennia. However, there remained an aspect of the divine's influence that the barrier across the years, centuries, and even millennia had never been able to break us free of, at least until recently.

"The birth of children of light," both Mael and Arte concluded.

The man nodded.

"Then the sudden halt in their spawning... "Arte intervened. ‘Was it all your church’s doing all along?"

"It was not," Mael answered for his cousin. "That is something they’ve always wished to control, something we can say they had in common with your father, your mother, and my parents, but have failed to, as no matter how many years they wasted searching for an answer to it, they never managed to find the truth."

"How cold of you. Those are the results of your parents' hard work that you're casually spitting on."

"Call it what you want."

"Hum… Unfortunately, Young Barbosse, it is as your cousin said—the great halt in their spawning was not of my doing. As problematically mysterious as that phenomenon was, its existence nonetheless served the church’s and humanity's best interests, especially with how hard it is for us nobles to keep our declining birthrate afloat. That’s it; it was in our best interest to have that phenomenon going on. Its abrupt halt left gaps in the foundation of the nobility itself. Gaps that, despite our best efforts, didn't seem to be within our ability to fill. Whether or not it was related to the Great Halting, that awful truth became clear when many of our fellow noblemen lost their lives during the event we call the calamities. I’ve come to an understanding: There was no turning back. The last children of light were born. No more will follow. There was no undoing of that, at least not by my hand. In light of this, I sought an alternative, which I found; to be fair, I didn't have to look very far to find it. It was there all along. We, the fourteen, even fought it once, and you, Mael, once befriended and protected it, or maybe should I say him?"

"Mael?" Arte was lost and confused. "What is he talking about?"

"Ronandt, was i—"

"Keep his name out of your mouth!" Mael roared.

"Mael…" Arte mumbled, even more confused.

Seeing Arte's perplexed expression, the Archbishop remarked, "He doesn't know, does he, Mael?" "He doesn't know what happened to your other cousin," he added.

"Mael?"

"Allow me to explain it to you, Young Barbosse. Seventeen, almost eighteen years ago, a young man, Mael’s uncle, the ducal heir of the duchy of Beaufort, had his way with a common girl, which resulted in a pregnancy that was not put to terms and that ended with the birth of a one-of-a-kind boy. That boy was Mael's cousin."

Seeking confirmation from Mael himself, Arte asked, "Mael, is that true?"

Arte didn't even have to hear an answer; the expression on his face amply spoke the truth.

"It is the truth. That boy was, despite being born to a commoner and a noble, born no different from any other noble, or at least so I was told. Despite my best efforts, I was not able to collect much intel concerning that boy’s birth, yet his existence was enough to prove to me that it was not just a legend and that a child could be born of a noble and a commoner. I knew it was possible. I realized that this was our only chance of survival against our own demographic collapse. All that was left for me to do was figure out how and through what process to make it possible. "I was well aware and warned that the only natural outcome of a noble and a commoner is death, but I also understood that it was my duty to make it otherwise, and that sacrifices would have to be made in order to do so."

In horror, Arte had finally caught up to what his cousin had seemed to have caught up to moments before, but still, he couldn't figure out what the connection was between the abducted pregnant flowers and the remains of Sora in his possession.

"I did not stop at asking questions; I also challenged myself to find their answers. Yet despite the best of my efforts, my countless sacrifices, I failed to come up with results for years, but I was certain that I was onto something. I did not give up. It was then that I realized I was missing something—a glimpse of divinity that only they, the seven, have peered into. It occurred to me that I couldn't do it alone, but with her help—her, the Mother of seven daughters and a son who had changed humanity's curse—certainly, with her help, I am finally expecting positive results.

"So this is it? This is the greater good you’re using to justify all that you’ve been up to, Archbishop? That is the greater good you were earlier referring to?"

"I am not using anything to justify anything, Young Barbosse."

"All for the sake of inepsies..."

"You are free to consider what I stand for inepsies and free to abhor me, but I’m sure that one day you will, just as we all do, understand the necessity of what we’re doing here, made aware that no miraculous solution would be freely handed onto us, and understand that this duty was to befall onto someone. Only I was strong-willed enough to make the sacrifices that had to be made for progress and survival. But I’m sure can be too, Mael," the Archbishop announced, his hand held out invitingly.

"What?!"

"Leaving aside your questionable choices from today and three months ago, you remain a talented child, both in magic and in intellect, as you previously demonstrated yourself to be. It might be hard for the world to admit it, but they need people like us who are capable of acting when it is needed. As horrifying as it may seem, it is through people like us that the world changes for the better. So I would personally reiterate the offer I made you three months ago: would you join me? I have the feeling that you will achieve wonders at my side."

At that question, Arte glanced at Mael as if waiting for his answer. Mael, noticing his reaction, simply responded with an exasperated sigh.

"If that's your impression, Archbishop, I'm afraid you're mistaken; as I responded to this request three months ago, I refuse. The duty that currently imcombs me burdens me amply. Besides, as of today, I'm merely here with my cousin to recover these three flowers and that fellow Academy scholar of ours and see them home. So, Archbishop, it would be extremely courteous of you to hand over these girls so that we can take our leave and never bother you again in whatever holy quest you set yourself."

To Mael's answer, "I see," the Archbishop answered, holding his arm out as though to summon something, "Such a shame."

"What!?"

It did summon something, but not from his hand: a thick red fog condensed into existence, taking the shape of a circular wall around them.

"What the hell is that thing!?"

"I don’t know, bu– careful!" Mael shouted as the wall zapped ominously before spitting red bolts at them.

Mael, wedged in between Arte and the bolts, spit at him, conjuring a wall of blood that intercepted and shielded them from the bolts, which was considerably more potent than he had anticipated.

Mael had just successfully intercepted the attack directed at them; he flew one of his appendages onto the strange wall to see if he could somehow make his way through, which he greatly doubted but nonetheless attempted. It hadn't even gotten to its surface when the foggy wall summoned red fire, which devoured Mael's appendage with a voracious appetite.

Having lived close to the border between the human and monster continents, Mael could only recognize the magical properties of that wall. Arte also recognized it, having spent three months in the northeastern fortress.

This barrier was strikingly similar to the one spanning the human continent and was likely as strong. This meant that the likelihood of anyone or any magic being able to destroy it was low—extremely low.

Mael's concerns were still focused on the barrier when even more came piling onto it. They were attacked by fire-engulfing magic from the archbishop and his goons.

Proactively summoning a water-magic barrier, Arte, protected himself and his cousin from the roasting future that awaited both of them.

The attacks from the barrier and the goons made it clear that the archbishop had decided to go for their heads.

"Whiteley…"

"Understand, Mael, that I am greatly disinclined to go to these lengths," the Archbishop said, retreating into the background and sending his men after the duo, "but you give me no other choice."

Each of the archbishops summoned their magic and weapons, clearly ready to jump onto the duo at any given time.

Struck between a powerful elemental spatting barrier and seven full-fledged paladins, Arte and Mael were put in a dire situation.

"Mael? Any bright ideas?" Arte inquired, his fist clenched and firmly gripping his spear.

of it to intercept Mael’s appendage.

"I might have one," Mael announced, glancing at the gladstone bag he carried and thinking about its content. "I wish I didn't have to use this here, but I guess there is no other way around this. Listen, Arte, stay beside me, I will un—"

Mael was interrupted by a noise, which he was not the only one to notice. Each looked at the source of the strange commotion. Their gaze was drawn to a section of the barrier where red fog raged violently, as if fighting something fearsome not on Mael's side of the barrier, but on the other.

It was there, in the midst of the strange chaos, that it happened: a finger was poked through from the other side, casually piercing through the red fog.

Pushing forward, next to the finger, an entire forearm was revealed—a forearm that connected from beyond the foggy barrier to what one could notice as a blue-eyed female silhouette.

Soon, passing entirely through the barrier, the person to whom the arm belonged fully came into view.

The person in question was a girl, golden and blue-haired, with eyes bluer than those of Mael and skin as fair as porcelain.

Even though that girl's face looked different than usual, it only took Mael and Arte hearing her voice to confirm her identity, or at least the identity she went by.

"Hi Mael."

"Hi… Reina."