The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He?-Chapter 357 - The Broken Faith and Silent Goddess (4)
The square shuddered.
Not from an explosion. Not from magic.
But from uncertainty.
The laughter had faded, yet its echo still clung to the air like frost that refused to melt. A tension so sharp it made breath feel heavy spread through the plaza, crawling over stone and skin alike.
People began to stir.
Whispers rose—first hesitant, then urgent.
"Did... did you hear that?" "That voice—where did it come from?" "Was it... magic?" "No—no, it sounded too clear..." "Who said that?"
Heads turned in every direction.
Up toward the cathedral spires. Across the sea of people. Toward the rooftops. Behind the Divine Guards.
No one stood out.
And that terrified them.
Some clutched their prayer beads tighter. Others took small, instinctive steps back. A few—just a few—felt something unfamiliar bloom in their chests.
Agreement.
"Maybe... maybe they’re right..." "Is this really justice?" "That voice—what if—"
"Silence!"
The bishop’s snarl cut through the murmurs like a whip.
His composure cracked, if only for a heartbeat.
His eyes darted sharply across the crowd, scanning shadows, scanning rooftops, scanning faces for any sign of the speaker. His lips curled, jaw tightening as something ugly flashed behind his gaze.
Fear.
No—worse.
Loss of control.
He had not anticipated this.
High above, seated upon his elevated throne, the Pope observed everything.
And smiled.
Not openly. Not warmly.
Just the faintest upward curve at the corner of his lips.
A look that spoke of recognition.
So... you came after all.
His eyes, ancient and sharp, followed the shifting currents of the crowd with interest rather than alarm. Where others tensed, he relaxed. Where others feared chaos, he studied it like a chessboard finally in motion.
On the execution platform—
The Saintess stirred.
For the first time since she had been chained, something changed.
Her head lifted slowly.
Her breath hitched—not in fear, not in disbelief.
Her eyes widened, catching the light as something warm, something forgotten, surged through her chest.
Hope.
No—more than that.
Recognition.
Her heart pounded violently as she turned her head from side to side, silver hair shifting over her shoulders.
She searched the crowd desperately.
Left. Right. Behind the guards. Toward the rooftops.
Her lips parted. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦
"..."
She couldn’t speak.
But her eyes shone.
Not with tears.
With fire.
With the sudden, undeniable certainty that she was not alone.
The bishop saw it.
And it enraged him.
His face twisted, the polite mask finally cracking. Veins stood out along his temple as he stepped forward, robes snapping sharply behind him.
"Enough!" he roared.
The sound boomed unnaturally, amplified by divine enchantments, forcing the murmurs to die mid-breath.
He raised a trembling hand, pointing toward the crowd.
"Who dares to mock divine judgment?!" he thundered.
"Who dares to poison the minds of the faithful?!"
His gaze swept wildly, fury burning hot and unchecked.
"Show yourself!" he shouted.
"Do you hear me?! Show your face!"
The Divine Guards stiffened.
The crowd recoiled.
The Saintess stared—heart hammering—toward the far edges of the plaza.
And then—
The air shifted.
Not violently. Not loudly.
But with absolute certainty.
A presence descended.
Something vast. Measured. Unhurried.
The runes carved into the execution platform flickered—once.
The banners snapped hard in a wind that did not exist.
And from somewhere unseen, the voice returned.
Calm. Amused. Unshaken.
"You asked me to show myself?"
A pause.
Then—
"Very well."
The world seemed to inhale.
The air broke.
Not shattered. Not torn.
It gave way.
A pressure unlike anything the Holy Kingdom had ever felt rolled across the plaza—deep, ancient, and impossibly vast. The sky above Solaria darkened as if a shadow had been cast over the sun itself.
Then—
A shape emerged.
High above the cathedral spires, beyond the reach of towers and banners, something massive tore through the clouds.
Wings—vast and translucent—unfurled across the heavens, each beat distorting the air like ripples across water. A body both celestial and alien followed, sleek and powerful, shaped like a colossal fish yet bearing the majesty of a divine beast. Scales shimmered in shifting hues of blue, silver, and starlight, etched with temporal runes that pulsed like a living heartbeat.
And then it spoke.
"OOOOOOOOOOOO—"
A low, resonant call thundered across the kingdom.
Not a roar. Not a scream.
A whale-song, ancient and sorrowful, carrying echoes of time itself.
The sound tore through the plaza.
People clutched their ears, falling to their knees as the vibration passed through bone and soul alike. Windows shattered. Banners snapped violently. The runes carved into the execution platform flickered wildly, some going dark altogether.
The entire Holy Kingdom looked up.
Mouths fell open.
Eyes widened in disbelief.
"What... what is that...?"
"Is that... a holy beast?"
"No—no, I’ve seen something like this before..."
"By the Goddess... is that even real...?"
Panic and awe rippled through the crowd in equal measure.
Some dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the stone. Others backed away in terror. A few simply stared—unable to comprehend what they were seeing.
The creature hovered effortlessly, its massive wings stirring clouds into spirals. Time itself seemed to hesitate around it, bending subtly with every movement.
A Kunpeng.
The Divine Guards stiffened.
Several of them went pale.
"I-it can’t be..." one whispered. "Isn’t that...?" "No way... does that brat have a death wish or something..." "That’s him, isn’t it?"
Their voices trembled.
Recognition had struck.
On the execution platform, the bishop staggered back a step, face drained of color. His lips parted, but no sound came out. For the first time, true fear bled through his expression.
The Pope, however—
The Pope merely watched.
His faint smile deepened.
And then—
The Saintess lifted her head.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Tears welled instantly, blurring her vision as she stared skyward.
She knew that presence.
She would never forget it.
Her hands trembled as she raised them weakly against the chains, eyes shining brighter than they had in days.
"...Just like that time..." she whispered, voice breaking.
Her lips curved into the faintest smile.
"...on Beastridge Mountain..."
The wind tugged at her hair as the colossal beast circled above, its shadow washing over the plaza like a protective veil.
"...Whenever all faith and hope is lost..." she murmured.
Her voice trembled—not with fear, but relief.
"...you arrive..."
Tears slipped freely down her cheeks now.
"...like a light in the darkness."
Above her, the Kunpeng let out another deep, echoing call—one that reverberated through the heavens themselves.
And in its shadow—
The fate of the Holy Kingdom began to change.
The bishop’s composure finally cracked.
His fingers curled into his robes as he took an involuntary step forward, eyes blazing with fury and disbelief.
"Show yourself!" he roared, voice amplified by holy runes. "Who dares disrupt divine judgment?!"
The air answered him.
A voice descended from the heavens—calm, cold, and carrying the weight of inevitability.
"As you wish."
The clouds parted.
And from the shadow of the colossal Kunpeng, a figure stepped forward.
No—fell.
A lone silhouette detached itself from the creature’s massive form, plummeting straight toward the execution plaza.
Wind howled violently as he descended, cloak and hair whipping wildly in the rushing air.
Dark violet hair. Crimson eyes glowing like embers in the void.
The crowd screamed.
The Saintess’s breath hitched violently.
"...L-Luca...?!"
Her voice cracked as terror and disbelief collided.
He was falling too fast.
Too fast.
The air screamed around him as gravity dragged him downward like a judgment from the heavens themselves.
Then—
His hand moved.
Mid-fall, calm and precise, Luca reached across his body and tapped the black bracelet on his wrist.
Click.
The sound was soft.
But the world answered.
Mana exploded outward in a silent shockwave.
The bracelet came alive.
Black metal unfolded like liquid shadow, flowing from his wrist in smooth, mechanical arcs. Plates expanded and locked into place with perfect precision—layer upon layer forming around his arm, then his shoulder, his chest.
Sleek. Elegant. Deadly.
Runes flared across the surface in faint silver lines, pulsing once as if recognizing their master.
His torso was encased first—angular plates overlapping seamlessly, forming a core of compressed mythrill that shimmered with restrained power.
Then his legs.
Armor unfurled downward, wrapping his thighs and calves in interlocking segments that moved like living metal. Each piece snapped into place with a sharp, resonant clang that echoed through the square.
Gauntlets formed around his hands, fingers flexing once as energy coursed through them.
Last came the helm—
Not bulky. Not monstrous.
A smooth, dark visage formed over his face, leaving only his eyes visible—burning crimson beneath a sleek visor etched with faint temporal markings.
The armor finished assembling just as he reached the ground.
BOOM!
The impact shook the plaza.
Stone shattered beneath his feet as he landed in a kneeling stance at the center of the execution platform, one hand braced against the ground, the other clenched tightly.
A shockwave blasted outward.
Dust erupted into the air like a storm, obscuring everything in a swirling cloud of debris and light.
People screamed.
Guards staggered back.
The chains binding the Saintess rattled violently as the platform trembled beneath the force of his arrival.
Slowly—
The dust began to settle.
A figure stood at the center of the crater.
Black armor gleaming. Crimson eyes glowing through the haze. Mana rolling off him in heavy, oppressive waves.
Luca rose to his full height.
He straightened his back, lifted his head, and turned slowly toward the platform where the Saintess stood frozen in disbelief.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, the world disappeared.
Then, behind him, the Kunpeng let out a deep, thunderous cry—its massive wings casting a shadow over the entire cathedral square.
Silence fell.
Every eye was locked on him.
And for the first time since the execution began—
The one being judged...
...was no longer the Saintess.
It was everyone else.
