The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He?-Chapter 381 - Reawakening in the Square!

Sound returned first.

A low hum of thousands of voices.

Then the weight of air.

The smell of stone, sweat, and incense.

Then—

Light.

Luca’s eyes snapped open.

The world rushed back all at once.

They were standing—

No.

Not standing.

They had reappeared in the middle of the execution platform.

The vast plaza of the Holy Kingdom stretched around them once more, packed with thousands of citizens who had gathered to witness the Saintess’ execution. The massive cathedral towered behind them, its white marble glowing beneath the afternoon sun.

But the square was no longer orderly.

It looked like a battlefield.

Divine Guards lay scattered across the ground, many unconscious, their armor dented and cracked from the earlier clashes. Broken spears and shattered runes littered the platform.

Around the stage—

Luca’s friends stood together.

Kyle leaned on his spear, breathing heavily, his armor scratched from the fight.

Aurelia stood beside him, spear still drawn, her expression tense as she watched the sudden reappearance.

Aiden remained calm but alert, golden eyes sharp.

Sylthara held her daggers low, scanning the surroundings.

Above them—

Selena’s Ice Phoenix circled slowly in the sky.

Near the front of the stage stood Professor Seraphina, water mana still swirling faintly around her fingers. Beside her, Professor Halreth and several academy instructors remained ready for another clash.

And behind them—

The Dean of Arcadia Academy stood quietly, looking at Luca and Saintess, his ancient eyes studying the sudden shift in the air.

A few steps away from them—

Professor Aldric stood with trembling shoulders.

His gaze burned with pure hatred as he stared directly at Bishop Truce.

At the far end of the platform—

The Pope remained seated upon his elevated throne.

High above everyone else.

Watching.

Observing.

His expression unreadable.

But his eyes—

Sharp.

Interested.

Curious.

Because something had just happened.

Right in front of everyone.

And no one understood what it was.

At the center of the stage—

The Saintess suddenly collapsed.

Her knees buckled.

Her body staggered forward as if something inside her had shattered.

Luca reacted instantly.

He dropped beside her and caught her shoulders before she could fall completely.

"Hey—!"

She stumbled in his arms, clutching her head with both hands as if something inside her mind was tearing apart.

Her breathing grew uneven.

Fragments of memory surged through her.

The orphanage.

Her mother’s smile.

The knife.

The word she had spoken.

Mother.

Her body trembled violently.

All around them—

Thousands of eyes watched.

The crowd murmured in confusion.

"What happened?"

"Did you see that light?"

"What just occurred?"

"Did the Saintess use some kind of miracle?"

Luca looked down at her face.

He expected tears.

Rage.

Grief.

Anything.

But—

There was nothing.

Her face was empty.

Completely expressionless.

Cold.

Still.

That absence of emotion made Luca’s chest tighten far more than if she had cried.

"...Saintess?" he murmured.

She didn’t answer.

Then—

It happened.

A sudden burst of golden light exploded outward from her body.

BOOM.

A wave of divine energy spread across the execution platform like a shockwave.

Wind howled.

Robes fluttered violently.

People stumbled backward.

Several academy instructors had to brace themselves.

The Divine Guards still standing were forced to take a step back.

Even Luca had to shield his eyes.

The glow around her intensified rapidly.

Brighter.

Stronger.

Pure.

The divine energy felt nothing like before.

This wasn’t the fragile faith she once held.

This was something reborn.

Something deeper.

Something terrifying.

Gasps erupted throughout the crowd.

"W-what is that power—?"

"The Saintess—!"

"Her divine energy—!"

Professor Seraphina’s eyes widened.

The Dean’s brows rose slightly in surprise.

Above them—

Even the Pope leaned forward slightly on his throne.

But the most dramatic reaction came from one man.

Bishop Truce.

His face drained of color instantly.

His body stumbled backward several steps.

His fists clenched tightly as his entire figure trembled.

"T-this—!?" he stammered.

His eyes stared at the Saintess in disbelief.

Because he recognized it.

That light.

That power.

The Saintess—

Had awakened again.

The square held its breath.

The golden light pouring from the Saintess did not fade.

Instead—

It grew.

Slowly.

Steadily.

Like a sunrise unfolding before thousands of stunned eyes.

The air itself seemed to bend around her presence as divine energy pulsed outward in calm but overwhelming waves. Golden motes of light drifted through the air like falling stars, settling across the stone platform and the gathered crowd.

The atmosphere shifted completely.

Where moments ago there had been chaos—

Now there was only silence.

The Saintess slowly stood.

Her movements were calm.

Deliberate.

The golden aura surrounding her illuminated the entire execution platform, casting long shadows across the plaza.

The moment she rose—

The Divine Guards still standing on the stage dropped to their knees.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

Armor struck stone as one after another bowed their heads instinctively before the overwhelming divine presence.

Some of the clergy standing nearby followed immediately.

Others hesitated.

Then slowly lowered themselves as well.

Because they recognized that light.

It was unmistakable.

The authority of the Saintess.

The crowd gasped.

"She—!"

"The Saintess—!"

"She regained her power?!"

Above them—

The Pope observed everything quietly from his elevated throne.

His ancient eyes drifted briefly away from the glowing Saintess—

And toward Luca.

Just for a moment.

His gaze lingered.

Curious.

Sharp.

As if trying to see through him.

Then—

He chuckled softly to himself.

Amused.

And leaned back again without saying anything.

Near the front of the platform—

The Dean of Arcadia Academy also glanced toward Luca.

But unlike the Pope—

His gaze sharpened.

Studying.

Evaluating.

As though trying to read something hidden deep beneath the young man’s calm expression.

Something he couldn’t quite grasp.

Then—

The Saintess moved.

Her golden eyes lifted slowly.

And locked onto one man.

Bishop Truce.

Her gaze held no hesitation.

No mercy.

Only cold fury.

The divine aura around her intensified slightly as she stepped forward.

Her voice rang across the entire square.

Clear.

Powerful.

Unquestionable.

"Bishop Truce."

The words echoed across the plaza like a divine decree.

"I, as the Saintess of the Holy Kingdom..."

Her eyes burned with judgment.

"...sentence you to immediate execution."

A ripple passed through the crowd.

"For all the atrocities you have committed..."

The golden light around her flickered sharply.

"...and for colluding with the cultists for your personal gain."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

It felt as if the entire Holy Kingdom had stopped breathing.

Then—

The murmurs exploded.

"What—?!"

"Colluding with cultists?!"

"Personal gain?!"

"What is happening?!"

Shock rippled through the crowd like wildfire.

"How did the Saintess regain her holy power?"

"Wasn’t she powerless?!"

"What does this mean?!"

Even some clergy members looked at each other in confusion.

But the man standing at the center of the storm—

Had gone pale.

Bishop Truce staggered backward.

His composure shattered instantly.

Sweat formed on his forehead as his eyes darted wildly across the stage.

How—

How did she know?!

His voice rose suddenly in a desperate shout.

"W-what nonsense are you spewing?!"

He pointed at her with a trembling finger.

"You dare blaspheme against me?!"

His voice cracked with anger and panic.

"You have already been discarded as the Saintess of the Holy Kingdom!"

The accusation echoed loudly.

But before the murmurs could grow further—

Another voice spoke.

Calm.

Ancient.

Absolute.

The Pope.

The entire square fell silent again as the old man slowly leaned forward on his throne.

His gaze rested upon the Saintess.

Then—

He smiled faintly.

"Since the Saintess has regained her holy powers..."

His voice carried effortlessly across the entire plaza.

"...it means she has regained her faith."

He inclined his head slightly toward her.

A gesture of acknowledgment.

"Welcome back, Saintess."

A pause.

Then his voice carried the final declaration.

"Daughter of the Goddess."

The words struck like thunder.

And in that moment—

The color drained completely from Bishop Truce’s face.

The square had not yet recovered from the Pope’s declaration.

"Welcome back, Saintess... daughter of the Goddess."

The words still echoed faintly across the plaza, hanging heavy in the air like a divine seal placed upon the moment.

Bishop Truce stood frozen.

For a heartbeat.

Then—

His panic hardened into anger.

His trembling fists clenched tightly as he forced himself to stand straighter, trying to regain the authority he had lost moments earlier.

"So what if you have regained your position as Saintess!" he shouted suddenly.

His voice rang loudly across the square.

"You cannot simply discriminate against a Holy Bishop like this!"

His gaze darted toward the gathered clergy.

"You cannot accuse me of such crimes without proof!"

The words landed exactly where he intended.

The clergy exchanged uneasy glances.

Several bishops murmured quietly among themselves.

He’s right...

Corruption in the church?

That was not unheard of.

Distasteful.

Embarrassing.

But survivable.

But—

Colluding with cultists?

That accusation was different.

That was treason against the Goddess herself.

And without proof—

Even the Saintess could not declare such a sentence freely.

Several clergy members slowly nodded.

"Yes... proof is necessary."

"This accusation is too grave."

"You must present evidence, Saintess."

The crowd murmured again.

Doubt began creeping back into the atmosphere.

Bishop Truce saw it.

And a faint, desperate smile began to creep across his lips.

Yes.

That was the law.

That was the protection of his rank.

"You see?" he sneered.

"You cannot simply condemn me like this!"

His eyes burned with fury.

"Where is your proof?!"

The square fell quiet again.

Then—

Footsteps sounded.

Luca stepped forward.

Slow.

Calm.

Every eye turned toward him.

The young man’s crimson gaze moved toward the edge of the stage.

"Professor Aldric."

His voice carried clearly across the platform.

Aldric stepped forward instantly.

His old hands trembled slightly as he walked toward Luca, but his eyes remained locked onto Bishop Truce with burning hatred.

In his hands—

Several folded parchments.

Records.

Evidence.

He placed them silently into Luca’s waiting hand.

The square watched.

Luca didn’t even glance down.

Instead—

He flicked his wrist.

The parchments flew across the platform like a thrown blade.

SLAP.

The papers struck Bishop Truce directly in the face.

Several sheets scattered across the ground at his feet.

The sound echoed sharply across the silent square.

Bishop Truce froze.

Luca’s voice followed immediately.

Cold.

Sharp.

"This," he said.

"Is the proof of your atrocities."

The bishop’s pupils shrank slightly as he looked down at the scattered documents.

Records.

Transactions.

Movements.

Names.

His throat tightened.

But Luca was not finished.

His crimson eyes burned with something far darker now.

"And as for what you have done..."

His voice lowered.

Dangerously calm.

"...why don’t we ask a certain old healer."

The entire square held its breath.

Luca’s gaze sharpened.

"The one you have been torturing until now."

Silence crashed over the plaza.