Felix fell into a wordless silence.
The middle-aged nun's mocking tone didn't anger him. Instead, it pierced through his self-deception like a sharp blade!
A lack of courage to face the future?
No! That's not it! Felix knew himself well - he was the type who could unleash terrifying combat power when in dire straits. He had the courage to face anything!
What he lacked wasn't bravery, but a sense of crisis.
When he deduced Lady Ireland's return, his first reaction was excitement and joy, followed by a sense of relief – the kind that made him feel as if nothing mattered as long as Lady Ireland was there.
In simple terms, it was protection! Like a child with parents sheltering them, they often become willful and lazy. Humans are inherently inert creatures; once they have something to rely on, they lose their fighting spirit.
Felix's thoughts drifted to his past, which seemed so long ago...
Back then, he was still in the Fairmuth family, a despised illegitimate child with no status or dignity, a mixed-blood born of a lowly female slave. He treaded on thin ice, carefully and strategically securing an opportunity to learn magic, planning every step to break free from all constraints.
"I'm just a worthless bastard. A lowly half-breed born of a female slave.
Why shouldn't I risk my life?
Apart from my life, I have nothing!"
Felix remembered what he had said to Betty, the beautiful assassin he encountered when he left the Fairmuth family for the imperial city.
At that time, he was just a low-level mage, not yet entered the Silver Domain, without Lady Ireland's protection or the legacy of the mysterious Gamma. His only trump card was the barely completed 'Death's Touch' - a move to drag the enemy to hell with him at the moment of his death.
Whether Felix liked it or not, the comfort of life had eroded his resilience. The women's tenderness and protection had gradually dulled his edge.
He suddenly realized he was now like a child, more reliant on Lady Ireland's strength than his own when facing adversity, rather than stepping out to confront the impending storm alone.
A child relying on adults' strength can never become a real man. Just as only an eagle that has survived life and death trials can become the sovereign of the skies.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Eagles throw their young that cannot fly off cliffs, forcing them to learn to flap their wings between life and death. But Lady Ireland wouldn't do that. What she probably hoped for most was for Felix to always hide under her wings like a child, just as men are willing to endure all hardships to provide a peaceful sky for their loved ones.
But Felix didn't want that. He didn't want to always rely on Lady Ireland's protection.
"I'm not lacking in courage. I'm just not mature enough," Felix lifted his head, his gaze calmly meeting the surprised eyes of the middle-aged nun. He smiled, uttering a sentence she would never understand.
Homeless children always have to grow up a bit faster. Suddenly having someone to depend on, it's natural to become a bit childish.
Felix picked up the still damp black cloak from the chair, shook off the dust, and draped it over himself. He didn't glance again at the appointment document on the table but turned and left Saint Erde Cathedral without looking back.
"The position of Black Robed Governor is yours for now." As he reached the door of the prayer room, Felix paused. He turned slowly, meeting the icy gaze of the middle-aged nun. "I will return," he said softly.
With those words, Felix stepped into the storm, his strides firm as he walked away from Saint Erde Cathedral.
With his current strength, could he really take on the role of Black Robed Governor?
Felix didn't think the middle-aged nun would follow his orders now. He might possess untapped leadership talent, but currently, he lacked even a smidgen of knowledge in that area!
Even though he had forcefully taken over as the Black Robed Governor and had the support of the twelve nuns left by Lady Ireland, what of it? At best, he could only match the middle-aged nun and the three other female death knights under her command.
If that were the case, the Dark Judgment Division, just starting to form, would be doomed to short-lived success due to internal conflicts.
Felix was smart, at least he believed his current decision was a wise choice. He would leave the entire management of the Dark Judgment Division to the middle-aged nun, leveraging her strength and connections to build the organization's initial framework.
The first step is often the hardest, but once the Dark Judgment Division had a basic structure, it would lay the groundwork for future development.
Temporarily leaving the Dark Judgment Division in the hands of the middle-aged nun wasn't too terrifying a prospect. With absolute strength, reclaiming control of it would be easy. Felix didn't mind using some bloody and ruthless methods against those who stubbornly opposed him.
Felix's plan was simple: let the middle-aged nun freely build the Dark Judgment Division while he focused on his own training, preparing more trump cards.
Once the middle-aged nun had established the basic framework of the Dark Judgment Division and it had begun functioning properly, he would take over the ripe fruit with his formidable martial power. This was Felix's true intention, nothing more.
Felix believed the middle-aged nun understood what he wanted, but she couldn't refuse because he offered her an opportunity she had to seize.
Perhaps in the middle-aged nun's eyes, the final opponent contending for the control of the Dark Judgment Division wouldn't be Felix but rather Saint Elouan, the Watcher still judging sins in hell, her archenemy...
Storms and thunder, fury and lightning!
Felix no longer hid his power. A magical shield formed around him, an invisible energy barrier that kept the wind and rain at bay. In the midst of the storm, there seemed to be a vacuum around Felix.
"Thud! Thud! Thud!"
Slow and steady steps. With each step Felix took, the ground beneath him frosted over. This frost, spreading with the power of ice, visibly condensed beneath his feet.
He needed the heart of the strong!