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Mithras!
The ancient Persian god-king. The god of the sun, of battle, of law, and of oaths.
In the Little Garden, the world of myth had already fractured by the dawn era—Persian gods scattered, their kings vanished without a trace. But Mithras was different. He wasn't one of the lost or the hidden—he was defeated, outright slain by the Holy Son of the Cross Pantheon.
The more Ryo heard things like this, the more certain he became that the two-digit being from the Cross was an imposter. He wasn't religious, but he knew enough about Jesus to tell that this wasn't his personality at all.
Still, Ryo wasn't shocked. Whether back on Earth or after arriving in Little Garden, he'd seen plenty of people believe the wrong things. Believe only what they wanted to see.
Maybe that was why, within Little Garden, the Cross Pantheon's reputation… wasn't exactly great.
For instance, Mithras's birthday was December 25th. Coincidentally—or maybe not—the Holy Son's birth, celebrated as Christmas, also fell on December 25th.
(Fun fact — nobody actually knew when Jesus was really born. December 25 was just picked later for the celebration.)
And then there was the curious timing: shortly after Mithras's death, the Holy Son ascended to a two-digit rank.
It made the relationship between Mithras and that so-called Holy Son look a little… suspicious.
Even Indra had once said outright that he suspected the Holy Son had absorbed Mithras's incomplete divinity to reach that level.
Two centuries ago, Azi Dahaka had even stormed Eden itself, forcing that same Holy Son into battle. Yet for some unknown reason, the matter had simply… vanished afterward.
The Evil God of Zoroastrianism had clashed repeatedly with the Cross Pantheon near the end of the dawn era.
Rumors like these had turned every gaze toward Mithras strangely loaded with meaning.
A weaker, smaller version of the Holy Son—that's what it looked like.
Uesugi Kenshin's eyes flickered at the thought but, in the end, she chose not to act.
First, because she could tell Mithras was already dead, clinging to only enough strength for one last fight. And second, because Heavenly Army was allied with the Cross Pantheon — some of the angels were even part of the army's reserve ranks.
As one of the Twelve Guardian Devas, it wouldn't look good for her to strike at Mithras.
But not striking didn't mean she'd stay quiet.
With so many people here, if she could just push the narrative that Mithras was the "King of End," the Cross Pantheon was doomed no matter what.
With that thought, Uesugi Kenshin said softly, "So… Mithras is the King of End, then?"
It was a clear signal—an open invitation for everyone to align their stories.
Across the room, Scáthach gave a low laugh. "Mithras, the King of End? That's certainly a piece of intel worth recording."
The Celts had old scores with the Cross Pantheon.
Their pantheon in the Little Garden had fallen once to a Demon Lord, but according to the Queen's suspicions, the Cross had played a hand in that too.
So if there was a chance to drag the Cross Pantheon through the mud, Scáthach was more than happy to help—she even looked eager.
"As a member of the Greek pantheon," Hercules added pleasantly, "I'd say it's my duty to record this truth as well."
His lips curled slightly, almost smiling.
Mithras being the King of End? Perfect.
If everyone agreed on that, no one would suspect him.
As for his own divine signature changes, well—he could always ask Zeus or Athena to cover for him.
As long as the Cross Pantheon was in the line of fire, Hercules could fade comfortably into the background.
Honestly, he thought, dead cross people really were the best kind—so generous, so self-sacrificing, the very model of compassion!
"They're even coordinating without me saying a word… just naturally ganging up on the Cross Pantheon," Ryo thought dryly to himself.
Then he glanced around—locking eyes with Scáthach, Hercules, and Uesugi Kenshin—before all four turned their gaze toward Highness.
Unfortunately for Highness, he was still pretending to be a "bishop," and among everyone present, only he and Rin were from the Cross Pantheon.
Which meant, when it came to pinning the blame, they were the first ones who needed to be excluded—or sacrificed.
'You can't see us… Please pretend you can't see us.'
Rin had been trying her hardest to fade into the background, but her affiliation made her—and her "bishop"—the most obvious targets in the room.
Everyone's eyes were practically screaming should we just kill them now?
This was bad. Really bad.
If they kept pretending to be from the Cross Pantheon, they'd definitely get wiped out—or at best, silenced and sealed away.
But if they suddenly denied it, that would be even worse.
Who'd believe they weren't just stalling for time?
An unidentified duo would look even more suspicious, even more disposable.
What about revealing their true identities—Rin as herself, and the "bishop" as Highness? That would be a total disaster.
Highness's name alone carried massive weight for Ouroboros. Exposing it here would make Hercules turn hostile on the spot.
After all, anyone who'd read the ancient tablets knew that both Hercules and Highness were hosts of the King of End's divine spirit—they were rivals by design.
Rin felt like crying.
No matter how she spun it, every option led to death.
Meanwhile, the crowd's expressions had grown darker and more dangerous, hostility rising in the air.
Panicked, she turned to Highness and called out, "Let's—!"
Highness, who'd been silent until now, lifted a hand to stop her.
Then he swept his gaze across the gathered gods and heroes before quietly sending a message to Ryo: "I know where [No Name]'s flag is."
Ryo raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.
He'd already guessed Highness's true identity—and he knew exactly what the man wanted: his intervention, his protection.
But that price wasn't high enough.
Highness realized that too. He clenched his jaw, then added through the link: "In addition to that, help me with one more thing—and I'll hand over the Sun Authority of Leo."
Ryo's eyes lit up.
A moment later, he stepped forward, addressing the entire group: "Everyone, do me a favor. Let's drop this matter about the bishop, alright?"
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