CHAPTER 181: TO BECOME A SAINT

"Five million!" A trembling voice broke the silence in the room. "I just heard... five damn million!"

"How can anyone have so many mana stones?" exclaimed another, incredulously. "For the love of our Lord, the Ancient Sun God..."

"So many mana stones for a single fruit..." whispered a third bitterly. "The gentleman in booth number 6... has no way of beating that price now."

The murmur grew louder. Greed, surprise, helplessness—all human emotions mixed in a single chaotic buzz.

Kael listened attentively to every word, but his face remained unchanged. He was not the least bit upset. However, deep in his eyes, a faint spark of surprise appeared. In the end, he couldn’t help but shake his head with a wry smile.

He was so sure he would get the Soul Peach. He had calculated every step in his mind.

In his mind, he had already imagined the taste of victory, that fleeting feeling of having overcome yet another barrier. But just as he was about to enjoy that illusion of glory, reality hit him with its cold forcefulness.

Money... influence... power. At an auction like this, ideals and strategies were nothing more than window dressing. The only thing that really mattered was how much you were willing to sacrifice.

Kael exhaled softly, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Ahh... It’s a shame I can’t get the fruit of this auction," he murmured.

But his tone was not that of a defeated man. It was that of someone who recognized a lesson.

Kael was not going to bid any more for the Soul Peach. The expense was too great, even for him. Besides, not even that fruit would be able to restore his soul completely.

I’ll have to find another way to recover my soul... Wait, the voice belonged to a woman; in this city, that’s valuable information.

Kael noticed it immediately. In a kingdom where men held power and women were relegated to the background, finding a woman with influence was no coincidence; it was an anomaly with consequences.

In San Martín, the few women who held power could be counted on one hand: each one represented a rare and dangerous piece on the political chessboard.

He could wait for the meeting with the cardinals, that meeting his pig slave had scheduled in a few days, and extract the information he needed. There would be no need to pay for the fruit: the opportunity involved lower and definitive costs.

There was only one practical step left, and for Kael, it was simple.

Kill the owner and that’s it.

However, that plan ruined all the others he had thought of. Too many variables, too many unnecessary risks.

Therefore, there was only one clean, stable path with the greatest chance of success: to become a saint, thereby directly attracting the Pope’s attention.

The concept seemed simple, but in Kael’s mind, every step had a purpose.

The plan to play the role of a saint grew stronger with each passing second. He had even stopped paying attention to the auction; the hubbub and voices were insignificant noise.

He had come for an article. He didn’t get it. But that didn’t mean the end of the road. It just meant a change of route.

There is always more than one way to get what you want. Some choose the path of righteousness, others the path of darkness.

Deep down, both lead to the same destination.

Steal, kill, deceive, negotiate, buy, or manipulate. It all depends on the price you’re willing to pay.

After all, if something can be obtained with money... then it’s not a real problem.

With this in mind, Kael did not remain at the auction any longer. His purpose there had been fulfilled.

He left the cabin, descended the narrow corridors, and disappeared into the shadows of the building. Outside, the night of the underworld continued to pulsate: a labyrinth of dim lights, damp alleys, and furtive glances.

Before leaving completely, Kael stopped at several stalls, buying a few items. None stood out for their individual value, but each was part of something bigger: precise pieces within a plan that was being built step by step, layer by layer.

When he finally left that place, the cold breeze from the surface greeted him. He didn’t look back.

He had nothing left to do among those shadows.

He had to perfect his plan, reinforce every detail, prepare everything, the escape routes, and the necessary disguises. Every cover had to be perfect.

Only then could he achieve it.

Become, with full rights, a...

Saint.

...

Great Western Sea.

The moon shone brightly in a completely clear sky, casting its silvery rays without any obstruction; no clouds stood in its way.

In the middle of the ocean stood a vast island teeming with life: tall palm trees swaying in the breeze, countless exotic animals. However, upon reaching the shore, the view changed completely. An endless horizon of sea stretched out in front of the beach, although it was not the usual intense blue.

Its waters seemed tinged with an indescribable mystery: three colors blended on the surface—blood red, black, and light blue—forming a contrast as strange as it was fascinating.

All around him, enormous sea turtle shells slowly emerged and disappeared, carried by the current and waves up to two meters high that crashed forcefully against the shore.

From above, with the gaze of a hawk soaring through the sky, the island revealed even more of its secret charm: among the vegetation, a city full of houses could be seen, vestiges of humanity that seemed to defy the wild majesty of the surroundings.

In a large house overlooking the island town, Jasper Medici gazes at the moon with a neutral expression.

It had been a long time since he encountered those divine figures. During this time, he had been training and refining his mana essence tirelessly, but with his A-rank talent, it had not been hard work for him.

He is now at rank 7, Beginner level.

His body had already undergone a qualitative change, improving both his physical strength and his mana essence.

A few days ago, he had been informed that he would be representing the inheritance of a rank 4 Aura Master, that is, the inheritance of a demigod. It was the first time in his life he had heard of such a thing, and now he was about to participate in one.

The mere thought filled him with a mixture of awe and pressure. He didn’t know whether to feel lucky... or scared.

Jasper sighed deeply. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander to Kiran Mountain.

He could still feel that shadow clinging to his back, invisible but heavy, as if with every step the mountain itself was following him, reminding him of everything he had lost.

However, he understood that he had to let it go. Not because the past was worthless, but because clinging to it was like trying to hold water between his fingers: the more force he applied, the faster it would slip away.

His mother would not return. Neither would his knights. Everything he loved, everything he was, was now nothing more than a distant echo in the stream of time. But echoes are not meant to be inhabited, but to be heard one last time before moving on.

Leaving the past behind did not mean forgetting it; it meant recognizing it, accepting it, and allowing its ruins to become fertile ground.

Because only those who are capable of letting the old die... can blossom again.

Feeling the night breeze, with that salty touch brought by the sea, Jasper closed his eyes. His long red hair moved to the rhythm of the wind, waving like a flag under the moonlight.

For a moment, he felt something inside him dissolve. An invisible weight, accumulated over months, began to fade away.

In that silence, his heart seemed to lighten. A new determination sprang from the depths of his soul. It was as if he had left behind all the shadows of his past.

He was no longer the same man. When he gained enough strength, he would not allow the Medici name to fade into oblivion. He would make that name resonate once again, not as a faded memory, but as a legacy that would endure for generations.

It was a promise. Not made aloud, but engraved in his very existence.

However, as he slowly opened his eyes, a faint smile crossed his face.

It may sound contradictory, but so what?

Would that make him different?

Would it make him a hypocrite?

No, none of that.

Even though he has left his past behind and now wants his surname to live on forever...

So what? Is there any purity in human contradiction? No. Contradiction is the very heart of man.

That is how human beings are. That is their nature: creatures of extremes, always torn between desire and guilt, between ambition and regret. They can build empires with one hand, while destroying them with the other.

He seeks the truth, but fears it when it is right before his eyes. He speaks of freedom, while chaining himself to his own desires. He pretends to understand himself, even though he cannot even bear his own reflection.

The few who are truly true to themselves... are rare.

And among those few, almost none survive the weight of their own sincerity.

Because in the end...

That’s how human beings are...