"Fake hero!"
Riley had held many titles in his life, and 'Fake Hero' had been one of them before.
The Paragon.
But then again, was he truly fake during that time? He had helped save many lives and improved many more.
In fact, he had done the same in Camrose, on an even bigger scale.
And right now, someone who actually mattered was finally challenging him.
The Pope of the Church of Fate himself.
The Pope was aged. His long, white eyebrows almost reaching to his exaggeratedly wide shoulders. His shoulders were not the only thing exaggeratingly wide. His mitre was too, almost an umbrella on his head.
But the Pope was large, a towering behemoth of a man even at his age.
And he seemed to have brought along an entire audience with him—no. Not exactly.
"This is… interesting, Pope."
Riley was right outside the doors of the main church of Fate, in a city with less than a thousand, and mostly only clerics in training and officials of the church.
