"Choice..."

As dusk fell, Herbert walked out of the Underground Sanctuary.

His head was down, brows furrowed, with his entire mind immersed in his thoughts, walking unconsciously.

"Herbert, you... oh?"

Ashen Bishop originally wanted to chat with Herbert, but seeing him deep in thought, silently withdrew his hand.

This child seems to be confused because of the elder's words...

"Heh heh."

Though he appears to have matured a bit, at heart he's still a child.

Forget it, better not disturb him and let him think things through on his own.

They, the old ones, it's enough if just one of them goes about disturbing the minds of the youth.

With gentle eyes, Ashen Bishop watched the lost youth drift away, chuckling softly with a shake of his head.

As elders, they should only assist when the young ones require it.

If the younger generation can reach their own conclusions, there's no need to interfere.

Otherwise, the world would only have one more puppet desired by them, losing its true self.

Such a future... ha, would be terribly dull.

Ashen Bishop stretched lazily, murmuring to himself, "So, I'll just wait until he comes seeking help himself."

And as she raised her hand and stretched her body, the originally loose robe gently tugged, faintly outlining the curves beneath.

Meanwhile, from beneath the wide hood, a subtle hissing sound emerged.

Hiss... hiss...

.

.

"Choice, huh?"

Elsewhere, Herbert continued walking aimlessly, ignoring the cultivators he passed.

Thinking about his last conversation with the Archbishop, he furrowed his brow lightly.

After the Archbishop asked that critical question, Herbert remained silent for a long time.

He could provide a flawless answer that would satisfy everyone.

By offering the perfect response suited to his current status, he could easily disguise himself as an exemplary Paladin.

But... what's the point?

The Archbishop didn't want to hear such an answer from Herbert, nor did Herbert want to deceive his own heart at this moment.

Because Herbert himself was still confused.

He couldn't figure out what he truly wanted?

Seeing him like this, the Archbishop didn't press him further about the experiences in the Misty Mountains.

It was enough.

The elder didn't force or demand an immediate answer from Herbert.

"Heh heh, child, no need to be tense."

"You don't have to provide your answer now, nor do you need to tell it to me."

"Words can deceive others, but you can never trick your own heart."

One can never deceive oneself.

Regardless of the self-hypnosis or indoctrination, the outcome is the same.

Fakes will always be fakes and cannot become real.

At some point, you'll inevitably recall your true choice within, rendering all prior efforts futile.

"All you need is to be clear about what you want in your heart, that's enough."

Finally, the Archbishop ended their conversation, issuing a subtle dismissal.

"Go back, child."

"You're already very tired, so now, go to where you belong and rest well."

Afterwards, Herbert barely remembered how he had left the Sanctuary.

He surrendered control of his body entirely to instinct, concentrating all his mental energy on that question.

Is it destruction? Or creation?

He thought a lot, but couldn't arrive at a satisfactory answer.

Because neither option seemed entirely what he desired.

He wasn't a bloodthirsty lunatic; he never intended to destroy everything, that was too extreme.

But he wasn't just a creator of good either, not a Holy Mother; that too, was too extreme.

It's more like... do they really conflict?

Thinking this, Herbert vaguely felt he grasped the crux of the problem.

But his thoughts were still somewhat unclear, needing a catalyst to find the answer.

Unknowingly, Herbert wandered around the Monastery, eventually stopping at a particular place.

"Hmm?"

Herbert dazedly lifted his head, blinking at the door before him.

"It's here...?"

While thinking, his body instinctively moved towards the place he felt would be the most restful.

And now, he arrived at his destination—not his private quarters, but his acknowledged "workplace."

Third Commandment Hall.

Herbert looked at the Demon Prison door, his lips twitching slightly, sighing in mild exasperation.

Sigh!

Oh, you, why are you so hopeless?

Of all places, why choose here?

"So, at heart, do I truly feel destined for toil..."

No sensible person would choose their workplace as a resting place.

"Honestly."

Herbert chuckled, shaking his head, as he raised his hand to the door, gently pushing it.

Forget it, let's just accept it as it is.

Being outside was so exhausting; it's time to return to my joyful home for a proper rest.

Time to seek the Monster Girls to soothe my weary spirit.

Oh yes, I should visit Eliza, not sure if there's any Holy Blood left from last time... if she economized a bit, there should be some left, right?

Phew—

As Herbert pushed open the door, a wave of scorching steam rushed towards his face.

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