The Sponsored Heroines Are Coming for Me

A location overlooking the trial grounds.

I, as a criminal, was bound to a chair, looking down at Aria.

Was there ever such a fortunate criminal?

This was a saint candidate’s trial, a privilege typically reserved only for the Pope to witness.

And yet, here I was, observing from this VIP seat.

An incredible honor? Far from it—it was pure torment.

Aria ceaselessly calling out my name left me unable to sit still.

And now.

Aria was kneeling on the bare ground, collapsed in despair.

I didn’t know what pain she was experiencing.

To an outsider, she appeared to be merely lying face down on a marble floor.

But that trial was an illusion.

Only Aria could see it.

It dragged out her deepest fears and most agonizing worries.

What could possibly have driven Aria to such despair?

She lay on the ground, shedding tears of blood.

I had no choices left.

All I could do was watch her.

It was utterly unexpected that Aria had even made it to the third trial.

Ordinarily, this would be impossible.

Without mental care, she would have been no better than a broken shell.

But the Aria before me now…

She was completely different from the Aria I knew in the game.

Not in a good way—more like she had lost her mind.

‘She’s clearly obsessed with something.’

Her sanity seemed shattered, chasing something with blind determination.

In this state, Aria might actually become a saint.

‘If she truly becomes a saint…’

I briefly weighed the pros and cons.

This wasn’t necessarily a bad development.

Aria, who originally required significant effort to nurture, was placing herself in the position of a saint?

That alone was a tremendous gain.

However, two things weighed on my mind.

First, Dave’s presence.

For reasons unknown, he clearly wanted something from Aria.

Not to mention his hostility toward me.

That man would have to be dealt with.

Second, the possibility that Aria might be the “culprit”.

If she still intended to kill me and ascended to sainthood in that state, the threat she posed would only grow.

Still, I wasn’t overly worried.

Even if Aria became a saint, dealing with her wouldn’t be difficult.

‘…Not bad.’

Aria becoming a saint at this stage wasn’t a bad development for me.

At the very least, it would dispel the suspicions the Pope currently had about me.

Thus, only one question mattered right now.

Could Aria overcome the third trial?

The most brutal trial, [Despair].

This trial had no concept of failure.

The only outcomes were mental collapse and becoming a broken husk.

Success depended on how much sanity she could retain after the trial ended.

Could she endure the despair, climb the stairs of divine power, and reach this place where the Pope resided?

If she could, she would become a saint.

“…”

A light flickered, signaling the end of the third trial.

Far away, Aria lay collapsed on the ground, unable to lift herself.

— Kuuuugh.

Her groan reached even this place.

It was closer to the sound of an animal than that of a human.

Regardless of her condition, the trial had concluded.

— Rumble!

The walls surrounding her sank completely.

If Aria raised her head, she would see where we were.

All she had to do was climb the staircase created by divine power.

But Aria remained collapsed on the spot, choking on sobs.

The blood tears streaming from her eyes formed a crimson pool around her.

Dark energy rose incessantly from her, swirling like smoke.

It was divine power, tainted and discolored by despair.

As the silent tension thickened, the emperor, who had been watching quietly, finally spoke.

His voice reverberated through the room like the growl of a predator.

“God is dead.”

Claiming that God was dead, and in front of the Pope no less.

It was undoubtedly an audacious affront.

“…What do you mean by that?”

The Pope’s voice carried a tinge of restrained anger, an expected reaction.

Still, the emperor remained unabashed.

“I’ve seen priests like her countless times in war. They call upon God, but in their final moments, they all wear that same expression. As if to say, ‘There is no God in this world’.”

He let out a low laugh, a sound that was halfway between humor and derision.

— Twitch.

The Pope’s hand trembled faintly.

A wave of tension rippled through the room.

“That is an exceedingly disrespectful—”

The Pope began to respond, but before he could finish—

— Flash!

A brilliant white light engulfed the surroundings.

Rays of divine power cascaded endlessly, enveloping Aria.

The light coalesced into a radiant staircase, extending from where Aria lay all the way to us.

All eyes turned toward her.

Aria slowly lifted her head, her gaze fixed not on the Pope or the Emperor, but on me.

Her bloodstained face, streaked with dried tears, glared up at me.

“…Hah.”

A sigh, from either the Emperor or the Pope, broke the silence.

Aria grabbed hold of the divine staircase and began to rise.

No, she tried to rise, but stumbled and fell.

So she crawled instead, dragging herself upward.

“…”

It was then that I realized something I had overlooked.

Aria had been mentally broken long before this trial.

She was already at rock bottom.

There was no deeper despair left for her to fall into.

No matter how much the [Trial of Despair] shattered her mind, she had nothing more to lose.

“Ian…”

Leaving a trail of blood behind her, she slowly climbed the staircase.

Her crimson-streaked form looked anything but saintly.

Step by step.

One step at a time.

Aria crawled up the staircase…

— Thud.

And collapsed, just one step away from the top.

◆

Not even the emperor of an empire or the leader of a church could claim to have witnessed such a scene often.

The Emperor turned to the Pope and asked,

“So, what happens now?”

“…Regrettably, she has failed.”

The tension that had filled the air earlier was now gone, leaving only the sight of Aria sprawled on the staircase.

“However, she will be given another chance. The next trial shouldn’t be as difficult. And there are always rewards for those who climb the stairs.”

The Pope let out a bitter smile.

Then he turned to me.

“You are fortunate.”

“Is that so?”

The Pope shook the stack of papers in his hand.

“This is the report on you, written by Inquisitor Oscar. Surviving a witch trial under such thorough suspicion… You’re the first to do so.”

“Does this mean you acknowledge my innocence? Even though Aria failed to become a saint?”

“Indeed. Didn’t that child prove it herself? She came all the way here, calling your name. To be honest, I’m even a bit jealous. Hahaha.”

Well… What should I say?

Thank goodness for the doting-father Pope.

The Pope exchanged glances with the Emperor.

“Would you have any objections to releasing him?”

“Do as you wish. I’m acquainted with him as well.”

“Haha. It’s impressive for someone so young to have ties with both the Pope and the Emperor.”

“When you put it that way, I suppose so.”

The tension that had heated up just moments ago had dissipated entirely. Now the two leaders conversed like friendly rivals.

The Pope made a small gesture toward me.

Clink.

The restraints around me were released.

I rotated my wrists and stretched my neck.

Finally, I could breathe freely again.

The discussion then shifted, and the Pope and Emperor began to talk in earnest.

“Would it not be wise to reduce the troops stationed at the borders? It seems more important to address internal matters than to focus on the borderlines.”

“Ah, yes. That proposal already came up during the practical talks—to return the troops stationed at the borders to our respective capitals.”

“Precisely. As you may know, our Vatican has also been struggling with internal conflicts among the factions lately…”

The conversation was oddly fascinating.

Both leaders openly discussed and revealed each other’s weaknesses without hesitation.

So much for the idea that such discussions would be formal and stiff.

Perhaps it was only possible because they knew each other so well.

Despite the light atmosphere, the negotiations were anything but lenient.

For example.

“We can reduce the mercenary funds as the Pope suggests. However, given that these mercenaries contribute to border security, we are concerned about the safety of our citizens.”

When the Emperor raised such a concern, essentially asking, ‘What will you offer in return?’

“We can assign more healing priests to the branches of the Deus Church within the empire. Their presence would bolster local healthcare, wouldn’t it? In return, however, the Church would need to engage in more proactive activities…”

The Pope countered with a proposal of his own while introducing new demands.

The details were left to the working-level officials, while the two leaders focused on the core issues.

My honest impression?

‘How did they hold back this much until now?’

Bottling up so much tension only to explode over trivial matters—that’s how wars break out.

In any case.

‘So, the Bloodstone Cult’s schemes are undone, huh?’

Their plan to incite war by sowing discord between the two nations had effectively been neutralized.

This was one of the key reasons I had risked venturing into the Vatican, despite the ever-present threat of death.

The witch trial?

Resolved cleanly.

The Bloodstone Cult’s attempts to provoke a war? Completely thwarted.

In every respect, things had turned out remarkably well.

But as always, when everything seems to go perfectly, that’s when trouble strikes.

“Oh, and Ian.”

“? Yes?”

“The Vatican has already sentenced you to death, regardless of the witch trial’s outcome.”

It was the Pope who spoke.

“The Empire cannot accept this.”

The Emperor immediately countered.

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