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They were the ones who plucked the Sankta out of chaos. They were the embodiment of all the virtues of mankind. All those who came after merely imitated them. The nameplates on which their miracles are described are dim and lightless.

We head down.

I do not know where I am.

For as far as my eyes can see, nothing here has never been mentioned in any texts or literature. I cannot understand any of this.

This should not be part of Laterano.

A low humming sound fills the entire space around us.

Strangely, I find myself flustered by all this.

It is not the answer that I sought. It is not something man is capable of establishing or interpreting...

It is not something that interpretations, analyses, debates, or reforms could influence...

It is not a matter of whether or not you believe in It, why you believe in It, or how you believe in It...

After all, this is an undisputable existence.

In such a manner...

It exists.

What is Laterano?

What are Sankta?

I see.

We are us only because—

It links us all together.

It molds us.

It is the criterion upon which all things are based.

The path you and I follow was paved by law.

The paths you and I have trodden both lead to the same destination.

It allows you and I to continue making our way forward.

This is the path It has deemed as correct.

It was a small Iberian town, one that you can't even find on a map or in history books.

When people still lived there, it was called Rocamarea.

The Bishop of Rocamarea raised a young Sankta. A Sankta... growing up here, learning here, and enjoying life to the fullest.

This was a humble and barren place, but well suited for the asceticism of a pious life.

Except after the Profound Silence, life in Iberia was always fragile, no matter how hard people worked.

One plague, one famine, or one premeditated infiltration was all it took to bring everything crashing down.

To save the hometown that, at the same time, was not his hometown, the Sankta arrived in the holy city of Laterano to ask for any amount of support.

The answer he received was simple: You are one of us, but they are not.

When the Sankta returned to Iberia, that 'hometown' had disappeared.

Everything had been completely smoothed over, erased, as if it never existed at all.

Like a grain of sand disappearing into the desert, or a drop of water dissolving into the tide.

After a long journey, the Sankta returned to Laterano an emaciated, lost soul.

He went to the chapel to seek a canonized bishop, in search of answers or guidance.

But even the canonist could only remain silent in the face of such great doubt.

On the pew he sat, remaining there from dawn to dusk.

Fiammetta, that was the first time I met Andoain.

Sigh...

Forget it, I'll pay for it myself. The repairs here cost too much.

We'll just have to cut back on the afternoon tea and sweets.

Your Holiness! I heard the sound of fighting coming from the Basilica! Are you alright?

What... You were attacked by heretics?! I'm sorry! I failed in my duties!

Fret not, Paolario. Did you forget who won the Basilica's last arm wrestling tournament?

You did.

I was just exercising my wrist a bit, and ended up causing a bit of an accident.

The unrest within the city has already subsided.

Yes, they've dispersed. I didn't even get a chance to grill––

Excuse me, can I come in?

Ahem, my apologies. Your Holiness, I'm making a fool of myself.

What I meant was, the ones you asked for are here.

Please come in, my children.

Salutations, Your Holiness...

Good day, Your Holiness. I am Cecelia.

Ah, welcome. You'll have to forgive me for the mess here.

As for you two...

What sweets do you like with tea?

Do you... need me to make something?

Hmm, let me think...

Maybe add a few cubes of sugar into your teacup?

Ezell, perhaps you should add a few more. Some sweetness will mellow out your nerves.

Ah! Y-Yes...

Your Holiness, if I... wanted to leave Laterano, would you let me go?

If I said no, would you obey me?

Maybe not.

Then go.

...Your Holiness?

I'm just a poor old man whose greatest wish is to spend the rest of his life in a soft rocking chair. How could I muster the effort to manage a young girl's travel plans?

But, Cecelia is...

Is what? Do you still think she's some hybrid of angel and devil, a saint who will usher in the Revelation?

Cecelia is just a little girl who wants to go outside and see the world, is she not?

You're still carrying your mama's guardian gun, right?

Ah, I'm sorry! Should I leave it with Mister Ezell?

But...

It's fine, my child.

The acquisition of a patron firearm is a solemn affair. It is supposed to require a grand ceremony, the presence of a guardian, the approval of a mentor, as well as lots of troublesome paperwork...

But, you aren't even of age to obtain a guardian gun. So, just take it with you quietly.

Is that really okay?

I wouldn't dare say call this my boon to you. Each and every gun is a valuable asset to Laterano.

But, if this is the only keepsake a child has of her mother, I'm sure no one could oppose that.

Take it with you, my child. You may not have the physical ability to pull the trigger and take out a bad guy... but it will always remind you that wherever you go, your journey began in Laterano.

...Okay, thank you, Your Holiness.

Ezell, go with her. Call it your long-term field mission.

Just remember to stop by every now and then.

Do I... really have the right to do that?

Of course you do. Is this not the choice that you made?

I will do everything in my power to fulfill this mission.

Look after Cecelia well.

Alright, now be on your way. Time waits for no man. When you get to be my age, all you think about is taking your next nap.

Mister Pope...

I promise to follow this path to the very end.

Oh?

In that case, I will pray for you.

Your Holiness, are you satisfied with this outcome?

I got to enjoy some sweets with them. I am satisfied with that.

The man has left, just as you instructed.

Should I have kept him around a bit longer? Maybe a piece of chocolate would've cheered him up?

Your Holiness... you're too soft-hearted.