Chapter 288: Clergy from Across the World (II)
"Your Grace Archbishop Ortega, I've never participated in a selection like this before, and I'm unfamiliar with the rules. I'm afraid I might fail to meet your expectations."
Before anyone else could speak, Gideon stepped forward and declined.
"Sister Mason's abilities are well recognized at St. Peter's. She's far more suitable than I am."
The Mason family members were visibly surprised.
At least the kid knows his place, Tal Mason thought with a faint snort.
Wood Mason, however, studied Gideon closely, a hint of approval in his eyes.
As for Bettice—
She rolled her eyes inwardly.
This guy… he's way too cautious.
"He really refused…" Matthew muttered, scratching his beard.
"Ahem…"
He cleared his throat.
"This decision was made jointly by Archbishop Jolan and myself. It has already been reported to the Holy See. The list of team leaders will be announced before the selection begins."
"If you refuse, your name will have to be listed separately—and everyone will see it."
Gideon's lips twitched.
These two old foxes…
He had no choice but to bow slightly.
"In that case, I will follow the instructions of both Archbishops."
Matthew suppressed a smile and nodded solemnly.
Jolan was right—this kid really falls for this tactic, he thought.
Then he turned to the Mason family.
"You have no objections, I presume?"
Wood stepped forward immediately and bowed.
"It is an honor for the Mason family that Bettice has been selected."
He turned toward Gideon.
"If you have earned the trust of two Archbishops, then your abilities must be exceptional. With you as the leader, I have no worries for Bettice."
"Father!" Tal protested.
Wood shot him a sharp glare, silencing him instantly.
Matthew pretended not to notice.
"Good. Then it's settled."
He pulled two plane tickets and a badge from his pocket.
"Your team will consist of four members. The other two are already in the Holy Land. With this badge, you'll be able to rendezvous with them."
Gideon took them.
The destination read: Ben Gurion International Airport, in the Middle East.
Departure time: tonight.
The badge bore a golden Western-style shield, with six floating spheres engraved upon it.
"As for the details of the selection, the Holy See will brief you all together before it begins," Matthew added.
"You still have some time before departure. Handle whatever you need to."
Gideon immediately took his leave.
This mission was unpredictable—he needed to bring every trump card he had.
Matthew, having finished his bottle, soon left as well.
Only the Mason family remained.
"Father, I also have preparations to make," Bettice said.
Wood nodded.
After she left, Tal finally spoke his mind.
"Father, why give up the leadership position so easily?!"
"This was a perfect chance to showcase the Mason family's influence!"
Wood shook his head.
"With two Archbishops backing him, do you think we had any room to refuse?"
"Besides, most participants in the selection come from powerful backgrounds. The fact that he was chosen purely on his own merits already proves he's special."
"And when he heard he'd be leader, his first reaction was to decline. That alone shows how cautious he is."
Wood looked directly at his son.
"A young priest like that—do you still think he's unfit to lead?"
"I… but…"
"You should learn from him. If you had even half of Father Gideon's sense, our family wouldn't have to rely solely on your sister."
Tal clenched his fists.
"…I understand, Father."
Wood sighed and patted his shoulder.
"I'm not being harsh. The path to the upper ranks of the Church is full of thorns. One misstep—and you'll be devoured whole."
The Next Morning
Middle East — Ben Gurion International Airport.
Gideon and Bettice stepped out of the terminal, both dressed in clerical robes.
The sunlight was warm but slightly blinding, and the air still carried traces of the night's humidity.
The airport lay over fifty kilometers from the Holy Land—
Yet even here, many passersby wore religious attire.
The two blended in seamlessly.
An hour later, they arrived near the city.
This was the newer district of Jerusalem—modern buildings and paved roads everywhere.
But after traveling further—
The scenery changed abruptly.
Before them lay a ring of low hills, relatively flat.
Densely packed houses lined the slopes, all built from yellowish stone.
In the distance, a golden-domed structure gleamed under the sun—
A famous temple of the Holy Land.
This… was the heart of Jerusalem.
For over a thousand years, countless wars and bloodshed had been written upon this land.
And even now, that history had not ended.
Three golden rings flickered faintly in Gideon's eyes.
Looking around, he saw—
A massive formation enveloping the entire old city.
Its holy power was overwhelming.
"Zzz—"
They passed through the barrier.
A current of holy energy flowed briefly through Gideon's body—then dissipated.
Clearly, this was the Church's method of screening those who entered.
Bettice showed no reaction.
Neither did the people around them.
The system was remarkably subtle.
The old city streets were paved with yellow stone.
The alleys were narrow, forcing people to walk close together.
Many shops displayed silver cross emblems bearing Church insignia.
At certain intersections, red-and-white banners fluttered—the official standard of the Holy See.
Gideon observed quietly.
Aside from ordinary tourists, there were many clergy members.
Some walked with lowered heads, their steps small and rhythmic—clearly trained in unified discipline.
Others, like Gideon and Bettice, wore similar robes—but subtle details revealed their origins from different regions.
Their skin tones varied.
Their auras—
Strong.
Pure.
And in many cases, deliberately concealed.
Most of them moved in groups of three to five.
They spoke quietly among themselves, while remaining wary of others.
Gideon guessed—
These were all candidates for the Clergy Order selection.
He took out the badge.
On the flight, Bettice had already explained its origin—
The Medici family.
One of the Church's most ancient and powerful lineages.
Known as the Witness Family.
They had risen through banking, church reconstruction, artistic patronage, and strategic alliances—
Eventually securing a place at the center of Church politics.
For thousands of years, their influence could be found behind countless major events.
They were often called—
"The Church's purse."
Gideon found it surprising.
Why would such a prestigious family assign members to his team?
Was this also arranged by the Archbishops…?
With that question in mind, the two arrived at a spice café.
It was tucked away in a quiet corner, frequented mostly by travelers.
Gideon pushed open the wooden door.
Bettice followed.
Meanwhile—
In a nearby alleyway—
Two figures walked side by side, dressed in white robes that concealed their entire bodies.
"Carl, why did you choose such a remote meeting place?" a woman asked.
"Wouldn't it be better near the Dome? It's closer to where we're staying."
The man in front frowned.
"Idiot. That's the central district. You could run into members of ancient families just walking down the street."
He pulled his face covering tighter.
"If people see members of the Medici family mingling with local clergy, what do you think they'll assume?"
The woman suddenly stopped.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She pulled down her scarf—
Revealing a beautiful face.
It was none other than Caroline Medici, the Vatican nun who had once met Gideon.
Back during the memorial incident, she had approached him under Archbishop Jolan's request.
"Whew… it's too hot," she muttered, taking a deep breath.
"Put that back on!" the man snapped, reaching for the scarf.
She dodged playfully.
"David, Zadok, Saul, Isaac…" she counted on her fingers, thinking aloud.
"All those big figures are far too busy to wander the streets."
Her eyes lit up.
"I get it—you're avoiding Falco!"
She circled him with her hands behind her back, like she'd uncovered a secret.
"He's representing the family this time, right? I heard he'll be placed directly into one of the major family teams."
"You two have competed since childhood—you're afraid of running into him, aren't you?"
The man's expression darkened instantly.
"Enough!" His chest heaved with anger.
"When will you fix that reckless mouth of yours? Do you have any respect for your elder brother at all?!"
Caroline froze, realizing her mistake. She quickly covered her mouth.
Then she stepped closer, tugging gently at his sleeve.
"Don't be mad…"
The man opened his mouth—
Then let out a long sigh.
"…Hah."
He shook his head.
"Do you think this is just about me losing face? Mother will be looked down upon as well."
At the mention of their mother, Caroline lowered her head obediently.
"As the eldest heir of the Medici family, I've been increasingly sidelined… drifting further from the center of power."
Carl fixed his gaze on her.
"Do you know what that means?"
"It means everything Father left behind… will become that bastard Falco's private property!"
"This Clergy Order selection—those major families will all be there. Even that man bearing the name David will appear."
"He's widely considered the most likely candidate to become the next Pope."
"This kind of opportunity… the family would never miss it. If we can establish ties with those great families, the Medici can step directly into the core of the Church's highest authority."
"And Falco—he's the one they chose!"
Carl's tone turned vicious.
"That idiot who spends all day surrounded by women doesn't deserve this!"
"But… the family already decided that our branch will regain control in the next generation," Caroline said softly.
Carl let out a cold laugh.
"And you actually believe that?"
"Whoever holds power and resources controls the family. Otherwise, why do you think Grandfather ruled the Medici for over a century?"
"…But you don't seem to have either," Caroline blinked innocently.
"You—!"
She instantly covered her head. "I'm sorry!"
"In a place like the Holy Land, your bloodline determines how far you can go. And the people you associate with determine how others see you."
"That… is what defines your circle."
Carl's voice turned sharp.
"I am a Medici heir—and yet I have to team up with low-ranking clerics. That's a stain on my name!"
"If anyone sees this, what will they think?"
"If those high-ranking figures find out, I'll never be able to enter their circles again!"
"Let alone reclaim control of the family!"
He vented in a rush, his emotions clearly agitated.
At that moment, Caroline timidly raised her hand.
Carl's veins nearly popped—but after a pause, he nodded stiffly.
"…Speak."
"Well… not only are we working with clergy outside the Vatican…" she said cautiously.
"Didn't Archbishop Jolan's letter say that he would be the team leader?"
The moment those words fell—
Carl's face turned visibly red.
"I—I'm not making things up… that's… that's the truth," Caroline added, pressing her lips together.
After a moment, Carl forced himself to calm down.
He felt deeply frustrated.
Ever since learning about the Clergy Order selection, he had been filled with anticipation.
Although Falco was the family's primary candidate—
The Medici had also sent additional members to maximize their gains.
A form of… diversified investment.
Carl was one of them.
People like him were meant to cooperate with clergy from across the world—
To jointly venture into that place.
Though it diminished his status…
He was willing to endure it, if it meant returning to the center of power.
But what he hadn't expected—
Was that the team leader wouldn't be him.
What on earth is Jolan thinking?!
If not for Jolan holding the authority over recommendations, Carl would never have agreed.
Now, he had no choice but to go along.
But he had already made up his mind—
Once they met, he would use his identity as a Medici heir to force the other party to relinquish leadership.
That way, when he returned to the family, he could claim the title of team leader as leverage.
Not long after, the two arrived at a spice café.
Carl glanced around.
The surroundings were filled with ordinary civilians—no members of the great families, no powerful clergy.
Satisfied, he adjusted his scarf and pushed the door open.
Caroline followed closely—
But when he wasn't looking, she quietly loosened her scarf again.
Tap… tap…
They climbed the stairs to the second floor.
The space was small.
A narrow balcony faced the golden-domed temple, and religious paintings hung along the walls.
There were only three tables—
And only one of them was occupied.
Carl and Caroline walked straight over.
As they drew closer—
Caroline's eyes suddenly widened.
"It's you?!"