Sanctuary, the circular colosseum.
Unclaimed Bronze Cloth caskets were arrayed on stone platforms, each specially made with the constellation pattern of its Cloth engraved on top.
The stands were packed with candidates, Sanctuary guards, and even Saints—dense as a crowd could be, at least four to five hundred people.
His Holiness the Pope watched in person from the chief box.
To the Pope's left and right stood two Saints: Misty, the Lizard Silver Saint, and Algol, the Perseus Silver Saint. Both wore their Cloths, serving as the Pope's temporary guards.
Gaining a Cloth signified the birth of a new Saint. As the Sanctuary's ruler, the Pope had to witness this moment and preside over the ceremony to bestow the Cloth upon the victor.
This had been the Sanctuary's tradition for millennia, a rule set by the goddess Athena.
Damian had no interest in the other Bronze Cloth bouts. He only strolled in late when Seiya took the stage.
He wanted to see the fight between Cassios—who had already awakened his Cosmo—and Seiya, and witness this classic moment.
And observe the way Seiya released his Cosmo.
As he walked toward the arena, the place roared with voices and thunderous applause.
Clearly, the Cloth battles were hot-blooded and intense, and the spectators were all in.
The Sanctuary's candidates had come from all over. Since childhood they had trained without pause; their greatest goal in life was to obtain a Bronze Cloth and become a Saint adored by all.
For any candidate, becoming a Saint was the highest honor.
For that, they didn't hesitate to spill blood in the arena, directing their powerful fists at the companions they'd grown up with and holding nothing back.
"The final two contenders for the Pegasus Cloth, take the stage."
"The owner of the Pegasus Cloth will be born from these two."
"Prepare to begin!"
The masked Pope's voice boomed like a bell as he made the announcement.
At his words, Seiya stepped into the arena, head high and chest out, smiling, brimming with confidence.
Cassios, however, did not appear.
"Seiya's on stage—where's Cassios?"
From the stands, Damian searched around and saw only Seiya in the ring.
Cassios hadn't shown up—he wasn't even on site.
"Where did that kid go?"
"I told him to fight Seiya—he's standing me up now?"
Damian sensed something was off.
He'd trained Cassios for half a month, taught him to use his muscles, even helped him awaken his Cosmo. He'd done right by his junior.
And right at the crucial moment, the guy was nowhere to be found.
Hey, hey—this guy was dead set on the Pegasus Cloth and on pounding Seiya.
To bail at the critical moment—did something happen to Cassios?
Trouble. That would directly impact the main plot.
While Damian was turning it over, the Pope suddenly looked his way.
"Gravekeeper Damian, why aren't you in the ring yet?"
The Pope addressed him.
"Me… in the ring?"
Damian was dumbstruck.
He hadn't even signed up for the Cloth battle—how did it become a fight with Seiya?
Faces around him turned odd; people wore puzzled looks.
The Pegasus Bronze Cloth was a hot ticket.
At least twenty candidates had fought tooth and nail for it, bleeding on the arena floor.
Seiya and Cassios had each beaten more than ten opponents to stand here.
What right did this gravekeeper Damian have to jump in?
"Oh? Didn't Shaina tell you? Cassios withdrew from the Cloth battle at the last minute and nominated you. With Shaina's recommendation, I'm granting you a place in the final contest for the Pegasus Cloth."
The Pope's voice rolled across the venue.
What!!!
Damian sucked in a breath. He nearly had a psychotic break on the spot.
Damn it!
I came to play extra and got press-ganged?
Believe it or not, I'll drop my shorts right now and show you God!
"Damian, Shaina reported your situation to me. Your results as a candidate weren't ideal, but after becoming a gravekeeper you trained day and night, using every spare moment to cultivate. You are no longer who you were."
"This spirit is commendable. Not merely because of Shaina, I am making an exception to give you this chance."
The Pope's voice was deafening, making the reason plain to all.
Many suddenly understood: to put it bluntly, Shaina had pulled strings to swap in a different nominee.
When His Holiness decided something, no one dared say "no."
But Damian was just a gravekeeper—wasn't he afraid Seiya would beat him to death?
"Shaina's recommendation?"
Thinking back on Shaina's odd behavior yesterday, Damian put the pieces together.
His gaze found Shaina. She was looking on with eager expectation.
Though Shaina had suspected he'd awakened his Cosmo, she wouldn't force him onto the stage. Aside from muscle, he had never shown his true strength; stepping into the ring would be no different from being a sandbag.
Beside her, Pansy was all smiles, savoring the misfortune.
Her!
It had to be that girl messing around!
It could only be Pansy's doing—making Shaina take the request to the Pope.
The little girl possessed a certain power to control people—similar to Genrō Maōken—able to exert some influence over one's will and spirit.
The Cloth battles were fought with lives on the line, fists to flesh. Heads could roll and blood could spill. People were badly hurt all the time, and deaths weren't uncommon.
The little girl wanted him dead?
The problem was, as Dark Saga, the Pope had actually agreed?
This leniency felt more like Saga's normal persona.
It seemed Saga was in good shape—not in a blackened state.
It wasn't that he feared taking the stage—he just wanted to lie low, not get famous, and not disturb the main plot.
Should he forfeit outright?
Seeing Shaina's expectant look, Damian was at a loss.
With or without Pansy's meddling, Shaina very much hoped he'd make something of himself and earn a Cloth of his own.
She had appealed as a Silver Saint to the Pope.
If he forfeited, Shaina would lose face. In the Sanctuary she'd be mocked endlessly.
From then on, Shaina wouldn't be able to lift her head around Marin and the other Saints. The gossip would never stop; as a teacher she might even be ruined.
He didn't want to see Shaina cry.
So…
Seeing Damian still motionless, Marin scoffed, "Shaina, you really are muddleheaded. That senior disciple of yours, Damian, spends all day just training muscle, thinking whoever has bigger muscles is stronger."
"Only those who understand how to use the Cosmo can become true Saints."
"Even if Cassios came, he wouldn't be a match for Seiya, who has awakened his Cosmo."
"The outcome is already decided."
At that moment, Damian moved.
He leaped into the arena, threw back his black cloak, and shouted:
"Gravekeeper Damian—entering the fight!"
Asking for votes—any kind will do. If you don't have votes, Saints, just give a shout.