The High Priest’s smile never wavered as he gestured politely.
"Lord Cedric, I understand you’re a busy man—bringing aid to the poor, spreading the Goddess’s na, uplifting the downtrodden. So I’ll cut to the chase."
He folded his hands behind his back.
"We’d like to formally recruit you into the Church. As an official representative under the banner of Goddess Elyssera herself."
A pause.
"What do you say?"
Cedric tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating.
"Sounds good."
His voice was calm, even friendly.
"But... what’s in it for ?"
The smile on the High Priest’s face twitched. Not shock. But sothing colder—an irritation at being reminded that others, too, could negotiate.
"Of course,"
He said slowly, asured,
"we intend to reward you generously for your... spiritual labor, Lord Cedric. You need not concern yourself."
Cedric didn’t blink.
"Then let hear it. The offer."
The High Priest nodded, stepping slightly forward, tone sharpening with formality.
"Ten percent of all donations after your induction, full ecclesiastical immunity within Church territory, honorary sainthood under the title Saint of Caerywn, and the support of the Velmora Royal Family."
"Hmm..."
Cedric murmured.
He let the silence stretch. A low hum in the air.
"The benefits are... impressive."
Then he looked up—though his face remained shadowed under the hood.
"But I’m confused about one thing. The other ninety percent—where does it go?"
The High Priest’s tone remained smooth.
"To the betternt of the Church. Maintenance. Construction. Education. Charity work. You understand."
Cedric’s voice lowered, just a little.
"Charity work? That’s interesting."
He took a small step forward.
"Because the slums are dying. They’re starving. Diseased. Forgotten. Their faith in Elyssera is withering like corpses left out in the sun. So I wonder... where exactly did those donations go? What fruit has your benevolence borne?"
This ti, the High Priest’s smile did falter.
Only slightly.
But enough.
"What are you trying to say, Lord Cedric?"
He asked, voice cooler now. Less reverent.
Cedric took a breath.
"Let be direct, then. What happens if I refuse your offer?"
He paused.
"You speak of blessings and rewards—but if I say no, what cos next? Threats? Assassins? A divine inquisition?"
The High Priest’s smile evaporated entirely.
He sighed. A quiet, heavy breath. The kind uttered before a regrettable decision.
"I see."
His eyes closed.
"You never intended to join us, did you?"
His voice dropped into false sorrow—like a man sacrificing a lamb.
"How unfortunate... I didn’t want it to co to this."
He raised his hand slightly, ready to invoke sothing.
But then—
Cedric was gone.
The High Priest blinked. Looked around.
The weight of the chamber suddenly changed.
And then—
A voice from behind.
Calm. Patient.
"I see."
The High Priest spun around.
And there he was.
Cedric.
Standing before the grand statue of the Goddess, back turned, hood shadowing his presence, hands behind him like a monk contemplating silence.
The High Priest’s heart lurched in his chest.
He hadn’t seen him move.
Hadn’t felt anything shift.
But there he was.
Right in front of the altar.
The place no man should tread without permission.
The air grew dense.
The candles flickered.
Even Theoderyn, silent behind them, could feel it—
A presence stretching across the threads of fate itself.
A quiet verdict waiting to be spoken.
*****
✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢
✶ I Reincarnated as an Extra ✶
✧ in a Reverse Harem World ✧
⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰
✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢
*****
The High Priest’s heart pounded against his chest—but he composed himself quickly, steadying his breath.
The Church was not idle, after all.
He, himself, was a genuine [Rank 4], and though he was not as formidable as the Paladins, he was far from helpless.
The Church held multiple [Rank 5]s, each loyal and prepared, and above all, they had the Velmora Royal Family on their side. That was no small backing.
If this man—this so-called Lord Cedric—dared to act recklessly, he wouldn’t just be an enemy of the Church.
He would beco a national threat.
A criminal in the eyes of the Kingdom.
And worse—a heretic, branded by the Main Church, hunted by inquisitions, assassins, and divine judgnt alike.
The High Priest took a single step forward, lifting his chin with composed dignity.
"What are you trying to do, Lord Cedric?"
His voice held calm confidence, layered in calculated warning.
Cedric turned slowly to face him.
His voice was quiet. Almost thoughtful.
"So... what I gather is this—"
A pause.
"If I don’t comply... you’ll kill ."
The High Priest blinked.
"Well, not if you don’t complain, of course,"
He said smoothly.
"On the contrary, if you decide to join our aims, we will welco you with open arms. We’re in need of gifted individuals like you. And I, personally, would prefer not to lose such... promising talent."
He smiled faintly.
"So, Lord Cedric, what do you say? Care to reconsider? And before you make any rash choices, allow to remind you—there are multiple [Rank 5]s in this Church, along with the full backing of the Velmora Royal Family. If you refuse, you won’t just face divine judgnt."
His eyes narrowed.
"You will be marked as a heretic by the Main Church... and as a criminal by the Kingdom itself."
He raised his hand slightly, preparing to emphasize the weight of what ca next.
"So—"
CRACK.
He didn’t see it coming.
One mont, he was speaking—
The next, a hand ca out of nowhere.
It yanked him upward by the throat—squeezed, hard.
So hard, he could feel the pressure behind his eyes burst forward, veins bulging along his forehead.
His feet left the floor.
Air. Gone.
Words died in his throat.
His vision blurred. A sharp pulse beat in his temples.
And then... a voice.
Calm. Cold. Absolute.
"Before you call a heretic, High Priest...
You need to know who the heretic really is."
The chamber froze.
Theron stood a few paces back, unable to move.
He had never seen soone manhandle the High Priest.
Not once.
Not like this.
The High Priest’s hands clawed at the grip wrapped around his neck. He tried to gather energy—tried to recite an invocation. Nothing ca.
No divine response.
No spell.
It was like sothing had cut him off.
He wasn’t being overpowered.
He was being dismissed.
Cedric’s face remained shadowed under his hood.
Not a flicker of visible emotion.
He held the priest there—not out of anger, not from vengeance—but with the quiet strength of soone delivering a truth too heavy for words.
"You threaten with politics and titles, as if the divine bows to such things.
You speak of judgnt—without ever fearing it yourself.
You speak of the Goddess...
But you’ve long forgotten what it ans to serve Her."
The silence that followed wasn’t hollow.
It was full.
As if sothing in the room was listening.
Watching.
Judging.
-To Be Continued
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