"Isaac Pakman… do you really think that just because you've risen to become the Nineteenth Seat of the Holy Tribunal Knights, you can come before me and flaunt your authority?"
A furious roar erupted from Savant Cathedral.
In the next instant, a figure shot straight into the sky.
Behind him, an eight-winged angel cloak snapped violently in the storm winds.
Only eight wings were embroidered upon it—far inferior to the ten-winged Holy Tribunal mantle behind Isaac, a symbol of far higher status.
Yet as a direct heir of the Remedy family—one of the Holy See's greatest aristocratic powers—he still had the confidence to speak to Isaac like this.
At John's words, Isaac's expression darkened noticeably.
It was as though the mockery had stirred up memories of something unpleasant.
He wore a look of disdain, but the arrogance from before had faded.
"The Remedy family… what overwhelming prestige.
But your prestige is limited to the Divine Academy.
We Holy Tribunal Knights don't play by your rules."
"Oh? Are you sure?"
John sneered at him, the depths of his gaze dripping with ridicule—the most naked contempt that great noble houses held toward those of humble origin.
Even so, Isaac did not immediately explode.
He suppressed his anger and spoke coldly:
"My purpose today isn't to trade insults with you.
Do you know what your attendant York has done?
He slaughtered an entire knight battalion under my command.
One Saint…three Kings…and twenty-one Holy Tribunal Knights died by his hand.
John Remedy.
I want an explanation."
"An explanation?"
John let out a cold laugh, his eyes sharp as blades as he stared Isaac down without yielding an inch.
"I should be the one asking—what exactly is the Holy Tribunal commander responsible for the Ymir Empire doing?
I merely sent York to carry out a mission.
So why did the Southern Continent Church issue a warrant for his arrest?
Why did they interfere with his task?
Could it be…that the Southern Church intends to break away from the authority of the Holy See?"
That accusation—like a heavy crown slammed down—forced even the furious Isaac to calm somewhat.
The York matter was filled with strangeness.
Isaac himself had grown suspicious.
And yet, both the Archbishop of Ymir Cathedral and the Holy Tribunal Inquisition established outside Ymir City had issued the same unified command:
York had betrayed the Church, and had carried out indiscriminate slaughter across the Kingdoms of Trod, Wyndham, and Gordon.
More importantly…
Isaac's own men truly had died by York's hands.
No matter what, he had to come demand an answer.
Otherwise, how could he face his remaining subordinates?
But he had not expected John to twist the blame back onto him.
His voice turned even colder:
"Don't tell me you don't know what your attendant has done.
He nearly wiped out three nations.
Nearly ten million ordinary people suffered calamity because of him.
And you still intend to shield that subordinate of yours?
That murderer?"
"So what if I do?"
John snorted, his tone dripping with aristocratic indifference.
"Isaac, don't tell me that after spending a few decades in the Southern Continent, you've truly begun to see this place as home.
Your Pakman family may not be one of the Seven Great Houses, but it is still a thousand-year noble lineage.
Do you not feel ashamed of this behavior?
This is the Southern Continent.
These people were once enemies of the Holy See.
They are a sinful populace.
If not for the Pope's decree, I would never have come here to conduct some ridiculous 'plague purification ritual.'
Letting them perish on their own would better serve the Holy See's interests.
So tell me, Isaac—do you truly have the right to question me?"
Isaac let out a cold chuckle.
"When did I ever speak for those Southern remnants?
I came today for one reason only—to demand justice for my subordinates.
If you cannot give me a satisfactory answer…then I don't mind showing you what the Spear of Holy Judgment truly means."
The moment Isaac spoke those words—the countless golden spears floating beneath the storm clouds pressed downward in unison.
It was such a simple motion…yet it triggered an instant reaction from John.
Behind him, the phantom of the colossal world-tree rapidly solidified.
Brilliant halos rose from its roots, one after another, sliding upward to encircle the trunk.
Like planetary rings—a disk of countless tiny glowing particles rotated slowly around the tree.
Then—enormous crystalline spheres descended from the crown, settling into orbit along those halos like satellites.
But judging from their blinding radiance—like giant arc-lamps burning in the heavens—
these were no mere decorations.
"This is…"
Hidden within a narrow alley below, Hel stared up at the tree that seemed to stretch beyond the sky itself.
Her pupils trembled violently.
"An Elven Mother Tree?
A Holy Light Elf one?"
As someone who possessed four Elven Mother Trees herself, Hel was intimately familiar with their aura.
What she couldn't understand was—why the fruits of this Mother Tree…those dazzling spheres…did not resemble anything capable of birthing elves at all.
Could it be… this Mother Tree is like my Flower Elf Mother Tree?
Hel's mind raced.
She had every reason to suspect that the Holy See's aristocratic envoy had used his connections—inviting experts in botanical modification—to reshape this Mother Tree into a weapon of war.
Otherwise, there was no way to explain the crushing energy pressure radiating from those orbiting spheres.
Even the space around them was visibly warping.
If those spheres were unleashed…their power would be more than enough to erase Savant City from existence.
"This is going to be a nightmare…"
Hel shook her head, scooped Zephyra into her arms, and immediately sprinted toward her dormitory.
In her view, when beings of this level clashed—it was best to stay as far away as possible.
Better yet, she should grab Tina and the others and flee Savant entirely.
After all…even a mere attendant under John's command had been able, during the battle with Imshi, to turn the entire city of Trod into a sea of sand.
So how terrifying must John himself be?
And now there was also an equally powerful Holy Tribunal Knight.
Hel truly feared that with a single misstep—Savant City would vanish, and they would be buried alongside it.
But the situation unfolded beyond her expectations.
Just as she reached the area near the laboratory building, preparing to drag Madam Viola and the others into escaping—the colossal Mother Tree that blotted out the heavens suddenly erupted—releasing countless rays of dazzling holy light.