Hel froze in shock. Instinctively, she followed the etiquette she had learned from the priests' memories — stepping aside, hand over chest, bowing her head in submission.
A faint, metallic sweetness drifted through the air, a scent of rot laced with perfume.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hel saw a green-haired girl, her body wrapped head to toe in bandages, slowly walking past her.
A strand of dark-green hair brushed lightly across Hel's face — and in the same instant, a soft hum came from the girl's lips.
"Hmm?"
Pestis stopped. She turned, her half-lidded, feverish eyes fixing on Hel. For a long moment, she stared — silent, assessing — before speaking in a tone that brooked no refusal:
"Raise your head."
"Ah?"
Hel blinked, feigning confusion before hastily obeying, putting on the perfect act of a timid underling. She lifted her chin slightly, trembling, like a rabbit before a serpent — curious, but too frightened to look directly.
"Silverwolf tribe, are you?" Pestis murmured, her eyes narrowing. "What's your relationship with old King Aira?"
"I—I don't know. My mother was just a commoner."
Hel deliberately made her voice quiver, perfectly imitating the nervousness of a new priestess who had never met such an important figure before.
"Ah, a bastard then?" Pestis snorted. "Figures. The Aira royals — can't keep their loins in check. One day it'll be their downfall."
Her tone was flat, her words venomous, as though she wasn't speaking of nobles at all, but of filthy insects.
"You remind me of someone," Pestis added after a pause. "You look… very much like her."
Hel suddenly felt an invisible force lift her chin — mental energy, refined and cold, like a phantom hand gripping her jaw.
Though she could have easily resisted, she played along, letting herself appear powerless.
"Yes… very much like her," Pestis murmured, studying her face. "Your blood carries a similar strain. Perhaps you really could inherit her authority."
Her?
Nikki?
At those words, Hel instantly understood.
Of course — her disguise had been modeled after Nikki's features. If Pestis saw the resemblance, it could only be her she was reminded of.
Yet Pestis said no more. After another moment's scrutiny, she lost interest.
But as she turned to leave, she paused mid-step and said coldly:
"Go tell Polina that I want you reassigned under my command."
"Yes, my lady."
"Oh, right — you probably don't know my name. I am Pestis. Just mention it to Polina — she'll approve it immediately."
Pestis started walking again, her voice drifting faintly over her shoulder.
"When it's done, come to my chambers tomorrow morning."
And without another glance, she left.
Only after Pestis' presence faded down the corridor did Hel finally exhale the breath she had been holding.
That hadn't been entirely an act — even without deliberately releasing her aura, Pestis' mere presence was suffocating.
It was the natural dread a mouse feels before a cat — a predator's pressure, primal and absolute.
"She's not like other transcendents," Hel thought, her eyes narrowing.
"No… no, this isn't the aura of a Saint-rank at all. I've met Saint-rank beings before — even Irina the Radiant Knight — and none of them exuded that kind of presence."
The realization struck her like thunder.
"Could she have already stepped into demigodhood?"
Her pupils contracted sharply. She glanced toward the direction Pestis had gone, but the hallway was empty.
"Tch. I should've scanned her status when I had the chance," Hel muttered, frustrated. "But that pressure… it completely threw me off."
Shaking her head, she dismissed the idea of pursuit.
She hadn't yet located the Beast Witch — risking her infiltration here would be reckless. Her Aira-based avatar had successfully entered the palace system; it would be foolish to jeopardize that.
"Looks like I'll have to rely on my usual methods…"
With a flicker of thought, several undead insects she had released earlier began crawling silently toward Pestis' trail.
But moments later, Hel frowned.
"They're dead?"
Just as one of the ghostly flies neared Pestis' feet, a dark-green miasma flared around her body — and the insect instantly liquefied into a puddle of pus.
Pestis paused briefly, glanced down at the mess with mild annoyance, then simply walked on — utterly unfazed, as if such things were a common occurrence.
Hel, watching through the eyes of her remaining scouts, felt her stomach drop.
"That poison… even my undead can't withstand it. So that's the Disease Witch's authority, huh?"
The display was enough to convince her to abandon her previous thought — installing a loyalty sigil on Pestis.
No chance. She'd melt before even getting close.
"Fine. The stupid way it is," Hel muttered, resigned.
She ordered the rest of her undead insects to continue distant surveillance and turned her focus back to the original objective — the Fifth-Rank Priestess.
She followed the path deeper into the palace, stopping before a polished wooden door. After a polite knock, she pushed it open — and froze.
Inside, two silhouettes were tangled together behind a desk — one of them the very Fifth-Rank Priestess she sought…
and the other, unmistakably, the Grand Priest of the Church of Supreme Power himself.
"…Are you kidding me?"
Hel stared, expression blank, a twitch forming in her eye.
So this was why an ordinary Fifth-Rank had risen so high in influence.
Mystery solved.
Hel quietly reached for the door to slip out unnoticed. But fate, of course, had other ideas.
"You there — stop!"
The Grand Priest's voice cracked, startled and furious. Nothing killed a man's passion like being caught in the act — especially by a stranger.
"Who allowed you in here?"
He turned, face red, aura flaring violently.
Hel felt a crushing pressure surge toward her — so fierce it rattled the air.
"You barge into my chambers without permission… see what you shouldn't have seen… and think you can just walk away?"
His lips curled into a snarl.
"There's no such luck in this world, little brat.
Blame your bad timing. Next life, learn some manners — and keep your head down."