As they reached the training grounds, the students who had already begun their morning drills looked on with curiosity. The three Deans—usually so stern and powerful—were now following behind a single man like mere servants.

  Who is this man? A high-ranking official of the Church? What are they doing here?

  Anthony scanned the training grounds and walked directly toward a specific spot. Had Eros been there, he would have recognized it instantly: it was exactly where Lehmann’s corpse had lain after his death.

  Anthony walked at a steady pace, looking down as if staring intensely at the ground, or perhaps lost in quiet contemplation. The three Deans exchanged confused glances. They had only read the reports and hadn't personally inspected the scene, so they were unaware that this was the site of the low-sequence student’s mutation.

  After a long while, Anthony spoke flatly: "The residual aura is faint, but I can still vaguely sense its high Status—an aura of Original Sin, filthy and foul."

  "Tell me, what happened here recently?"

  The Deans were jolted. They hadn't expected the mutation of a mere Sequence 9 student to actually catch the attention of a Sublime One. What details had they missed?

  Supprossing their shock, one of the Deans recounted the events exactly as they appeared in the reports. Upon hearing that Eros had resolved the matter, the Cardinal Archbishop nodded with a soft "Mhm," then turned and began walking back.

  The Deans were stunned again. Wait, that’s it? They assumed His Excellency had come to track down the missing pollutant. He’d just admitted the aura was of a high Status, so why leave now? Was he not going to handle it?

  But they didn't dare ask, merely following him back in silence. Once outside, Anthony suddenly paused and tilted his head slightly.

  "File a report on this. State that this matter likely involves a Mythical Creature of at least Sequence 2. Also, give a warning to the 'rats' hiding outside the academy: Eros Lunca North is now under my protection."

  Without waiting for a response, the Cardinal Archbishop vanished on the spot.

  In the Spirit World, atop a high-backed chair resting on the skull of a hundred-meter-tall Bone Giant, a middle-aged man suddenly appeared out of thin air. He wore a pitch-black divine robe with gold-embroidered edges.

  The moment he appeared, he leaned back in the chair, surveyed his "honor guard" of dozens of Bone Giants, and spoke with cold majesty: "Let’s go."

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  As he spoke, the ghastly procession slowly set off. Along the way, any eerie, distorted, or indescribable entities fled in terror at the sight of this display.

  Back at the academy, the three Deans stared at the spot where the Archbishop had vanished, only recovering from their shock after a long time. They couldn't fathom how the pollution of a Sequence 9 student could involve a Sequence 2 Mythical Creature. It was more absurd than a street beggar being secretly linked to the Emperor.

  As for the second half of his command, they understood it perfectly. A Saint receiving the protection of a Sublime One was both reasonable and expected. The three Deans shared a bitter smile and headed to their offices; they had to write reports for their respective Churches, as this matter had reached a level far beyond their pay grade.

  On an ancient table with intricate patterns, a fair hand held a fountain pen, scratching across a blank sheet of paper:

  "The screening for that child has concluded. His identity has been confirmed by me and verified under the Gaze of the Lord. He possesses the most noble bloodline in this world and a heart of pious faith toward our Lord."

  "The Church should grant him the status and identity of a God-Child. This may be the opportunity for the Church to establish contact with the Elven race. I believe you understand my meaning."

  "Finally, remember: Do NOT attempt to pry into that child, and do not attempt to divine him. Confidentiality level: Regional Bishop, Senior Deacon of the Nightwatchers."

  After writing the last word, the hand folded the paper and slipped it into a specially made envelope. Holding the letter between two fingers, the man reached out casually. A pale, skeletal hand sprouted from thin air and took the letter.

  "Deliver this to His Holiness the Pope."

  With that, the skeletal hand vanished along with the letter.

  Arriving at Siphreya’s apartment, Eros pulled a key from his pocket and let himself in. As he approached the bedroom, a cautious female voice called out from within:

  "Who is it?"

  "It's me."

  Hearing Eros’s voice, the tone immediately softened, turning languid. "My dear, forgive me for being unable to get up to greet you."

  "It's alright. I'll open the door myself," Eros said, turning the handle.

  Inside the room, Siphreya was lying in bed, her white shoulders exposed. She looked shocked when she saw Eros’s grand attire. "Are you planning to attend a ball?"

  "No," Eros said softly. "I came only to see you. I felt my attire last night was too casual—it didn't show you enough respect. So, after I left this morning, I specifically had my maid prepare a sufficiently grand formal suit. I don't know if this late gesture of respect will earn your forgiveness, but it is what I wanted most to do right now."

  Siphreya’s eyes widened, and crystalline tears began to roll down her beautiful face. She threw back the covers and stumbled toward him, throwing herself into his arms and clinging to him tightly.

  Eros thought for a moment, then placed his hands on her fair, delicate back. Siphreya hugged him tighter, her voice trembling with a sob. "I'm so happy. I'm just so happy right now."

  "Does that mean you're willing to forgive me?" Eros whispered, stroking her back.

  Siphreya didn't speak. Instead, she stood on her tiptoes, tilted her face up, and offered a fragrant kiss. As they kissed, they moved closer and closer to the large bed. With a muffled groan, Siphreya fell back onto the mattress.