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It was a dark night. There were empty bottles of liquor on the desk and fruits scattered in front of them. There was only one drinking glass, and it was still full. The moonlight shone through the window, reflecting off the glass.
The one who had poured the glass was none other than Pope Ross. He had already downed several bottles of wine, but his frustration persisted with great tenacity.
He had too many things to worry about.
“Damn it…!” Ross cursed under his breath, his expression as dark as it could be. During the day, he was the embodiment of benevolence, blessing believers with unmatched kindness. But at night, the anxiety accumulated during the day would explode, making him emotionally unstable.
He had been living like this for several years at this point. The reason for his unending torment was simple.
On the day Henry warned him about the Church of Nephram, Ross ordered Logger to wipe out the church. But by the time Logger had arrived, the entire church had already disappeared.
And Ross hadn’t been able to rest since that day.
He had tried to track down the Church of Nephram by deploying all the Holy Knights at his disposal to no avail. Of course, he had falsely reported to Henry that he had successfully carried out his order...
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