Return of the Youngest Son with SSS-Rank Talent-Chapter 183: Now you believe that I am one chosen by the Lord

When Kael appeared in the room, the cardinals present froze for a moment. It wasn't out of fear, but because of the disconcerting aura of kindness that surrounded him. It was a warm, almost sacred feeling... and, at the same time, unsettling. He seemed like an emissary.

If he had consumed Angel's blood, the effect would have been even more pronounced. Kael knew that. Even so, he didn't need it. His mere presence was enough to upset the balance in the room.

His smile widened, soft and controlled, an expression of courtesy that did not betray a single crack in his mask. With that same serenity, he took a step forward and finished entering the room.

The cardinals looked at each other. For a moment, no one spoke. Then, almost in unison, they regained their composure. Their faces softened, and smiles appeared.

They had been taken by surprise. They had expected arrogance, power, or threats... but not this.

Not that impeccable calm that disarmed them without violence.

At that moment, everyone understood something: Kael didn't need to impose his authority. He was the authority.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Rasen. Recently, Cardinal Schwein asked me to look after some children in Zone 1."

Kael took the initiative to introduce himself. His voice sounded calm, and every word carried a hint of respect. "It's an honor to meet you, Cardinals." He concluded with a slight smile. The tone of his voice was warm and friendly.

"Hohoho, you are too polite, young Rasen. The pleasure is ours to meet such a kind young man as yourself." Cardinal Ernest let out a soft laugh as he gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"These are my companions, Hasin and Harold. Like me, they are also cardinals," said Ernest, pointing to the two men beside him.

Hasin and Harold, dressed in robes with gold trim, placed one hand on their chests and bowed their heads slightly. Their smiles were warm, but beneath that courtesy, there was a firmness that betrayed their position and pride.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Kael responded with a quiet bow. Then he brought his hand to his chest, drawing a cross with his fingers and encircling it with a circle.

The gesture was a sign of sacred respect, an ancient custom.

The others imitated him, solemnly repeating the symbol.

Kael kept smiling, without looking away. Everything seemed cordial, but inside, every word, every movement was observed, analyzed, and calculated.

In reality, they were completely buying into the persona Kael was showing them, and that immediately pleased the three cardinals. It wasn't just a passing impression: it was unreserved acceptance, the kind of response one expects when social theater achieves its purpose.

"What a pleasant young man," Hasin said softly. "Why don't we go somewhere more comfortable to chat, since you must be tired from your journey?" He gestured measuredly, and one of the nuns who served as maids came to his side. "Is there anything you would like to drink, young Rasen?"

Kael maintained his friendly smile; his gestures seemed measured, natural. "Mead, if it's not too much trouble," he replied.

"...Mead?" Harold blinked in surprise. It wasn't a forced reaction, but the genuine confusion of someone who had heard an unexpected choice. In his belief, mead appeared in sacred texts as the drink of the Old Sun God; it wasn't something anyone would order lightly.

"Yes," Kael confirmed, adding nothing else, letting the word hang in the air.

Ernest stared at him, looking for any crack in his performance. "Why did you order that drink?" he asked, his tone more direct, almost sharp; each syllable was a small test.

If she detected falsehood, her reaction would be immediate and deadly.

Kael closed his eyes for a moment and his smile widened naturally, as if the answer sprang from memory rather than invention. "Ahh... why did I choose that drink...?" he said in a calm voice. "It's because when I drink it, I feel much closer to our Lord, who watches over us from above every day."

The phrase floated between them. Harold nodded with a frank smile. "Oh... that's a great reason," he murmured. "I understand." He shared, visibly pleased, the same kind of reverent thought.

As the cardinals exchanged satisfied glances, Kael picked up on every micro-signal: the relaxation in Hasin's shoulders, the slow curving of Harold's mouth, the residual tension still held by Ernest.

The scene was perfect: a symbolic offering of mead, social acceptance, and, on the table, new doors to open.

After the brief introduction, they went to a secluded room to talk privately, away from prying ears. They couldn't allow the nuns to hear what was about to be discussed.

The room was lit by a soft light that fell on dark wood furniture and crimson velvet curtains. The air was heavy, permeated with the scent of sacred incense.

Every detail seemed carefully arranged to convey solemnity and authority.

Once inside, Kael sat down on the luxurious sofa. His posture was relaxed, almost carefree. He crossed his legs with a slight smile.

Next to him, Schwein sat stiffly, drenched in sweat. His hands trembled imperceptibly, and his breathing became increasingly shallow.

Facing them were the three cardinals: Ernest, Hasin, and Harold. Each wore a different expression.

"What do you wish to discuss with us, young Rasen?" asked Hasin with a serene look, slowly joining his hands in front of him. His voice carried no emotion, only a calmness that commanded respect.

Kael stepped forward. His smile was sincere, but his eyes concealed an unyielding determination.

"I come to propose something that will help expand the influence of our lord, the Ancient God of the Sun." His tone was calm, measured, and almost humble. Yet each word felt like an invisible blow in the air.

Kael tilted his head calmly, without losing his smile.

"Oh, and what do you have to propose?" asked Hasin, leaning forward slightly. Curiosity sparkled in his eyes, while the others hardened their expressions.

No one spoke, but they all watched him intently. Kael's presence, so young and serene.

"I am one chosen by the Lord." Kael's voice was soft, but his words weighed like steel.

The silence grew thick. The faces of those present immediately hardened, as if they had heard blasphemy.

"Young Rasen, this is no place to play games," Harold growled, annoyed. His hands clenched tightly, his knuckles tense, his anger barely contained.

"Are you trying to offend our Lord with your empty words?" said Ernest, crossing his arms. His gaze was laden with contempt. "I thought you were a decent person."

Kael did not respond. He simply looked at each of them with the same serenity, as if the words they hurled at him were mere weightless echoes.

Hasin, meanwhile, remained silent. His eyes, however, never stopped following Kael's movements. He said nothing, but his expression revealed everything: caution, doubt... and a hint of anger.

"So you don't believe me..." Kael looked sad and let out a sigh full of disappointment. "I hoped you would believe me. Aren't you Cardinals? Why would I lie about something as big as being chosen by the Lord?"

The words hung in the air, enveloping the room in heavy silence. The cardinals exchanged glances; some frowned, others pressed their lips together suspiciously.

The invisible pressure emanating from Kael contrasted with the fragility of his tone.

"Young man..." Hasin finally spoke. His voice was firm, his face unreadable, but his eyes flashed with restrained anger. "You think this is a game, that meeting with us is simply a pastime. You don't realize how foolish you make us look, in addition to using our Lord's name inappropriately."

Hasin leaned forward slightly. "Young man, choose your next words carefully."

Kael remained silent. His gaze fixed on the man, and slowly his eyes opened a little wider. The smile on his face broadened, but it was not a cheeky or mocking smile; it was kind, genuine... too genuine.

"It seems you still don't believe me..." he finally said, in a calm, almost warm tone. "But I understand. If you believed me from the start, it would be strange, wouldn't it?"

There was a pause. No one responded. Only the faint sound of the wind sneaking through the broken windows.

Then Kael raised his hand.

The gesture was simple, but the atmosphere changed immediately. All eyes focused on his open palm. Something about that movement made the air feel denser, more expectant.

"I will show you," he said calmly. "For I tell you that I am the one chosen by the Lord."

At that moment, the light seemed to falter. An invisible current ran through the room, and the air itself seemed to stand still.

Some cardinals felt a chill run down their spines, while others swore they saw a barely perceptible glow.

They all opened their eyes in disbelief. At first, what they saw was just a tiny spark, a fleeting flash that seemed to die out immediately. However, that spark grew.

Its light slowly expanded until it enveloped the entire room in a golden glow that seemed to come from a divine sunrise.

It wasn't just a simple glow: there was a deep and subtle warmth to it.

The three cardinals froze. Words stuck in their throats, and unable to contain themselves, tears began to well up in their eyes.

That feeling... they recognized it.

It was the same warmth that emanated from the Pope.

For a long moment, no one dared to breathe.

Then Kael closed his palm. The light vanished as if it had never existed.

"Now you believe that I am one chosen by the Lord."