"Young man, have you ever considered becoming a Saint?"
Shion's words struck like a thunderbolt, leaving Steve, Howard, and Peggy utterly stunned.
"Old man, hold on—let me process this... Are you saying Steve has what it takes to be a Saint?" Howard asked, disbelief coloring his voice.
"Indeed."
"But... that can't be right. The Cloths are one of Sanctuary's core secrets! Aren't you worried he might—"
Howard couldn't fathom it. This was Steve's first meeting with Shion. Even with Garan as a mutual connection, how could Shion make such an offer so casually? Handing over a core secret to a near-stranger—a soldier and superhero from another country, no less?
"Your Holiness, I appreciate the offer, but I don't think I'm suited to be a Saint. I also can't join Sanctuary. But rest assured, if Sanctuary ever needs help, I'll do everything in my power to assist," Steve said, declining firmly.
The sudden proposal had caught him off guard. While he longed for greater strength to protect what he cherished, he knew the Cloth wouldn't be given freely. He didn't want to be bound to Sanctuary—his friends, his love, his life were all in America. He couldn't abandon them.
"Good. I expected no less." Shion nodded approvingly. This was the answer he had hoped for. Had Steve accepted immediately, Shion would have been disappointed.
Howard, too, understood now. Steve possessed virtues Howard himself could never match—qualities that aligned perfectly with what it meant to be a Saint.
Howard had to admire Shion's insight. Steve's refusal had likely been anticipated all along.
Peggy gazed at Steve with pride. This was her man—exceptional in every way.
"Haha, don't worry, young man. Your concerns are unnecessary. Even as a Saint, unless it's during a Holy War—when all are summoned—you wouldn't need to stay in Sanctuary. Normally, we don't impose restrictions. As for your fear of the Cloth's power being replicated... if you can manage that, we might as well retire early."
Shion's words were sincere. Outside of Holy Wars, Saints were free to live as they pleased, so long as they didn't commit atrocities or shirk critical duties.
Historically, most Saints chose to remain in Sanctuary, treating it as their home.
And his jest about the Cloth's secrets? Also genuine.
The Cloths were divine armors forged by Myrin and Athena. He doubted anyone could unravel their mysteries. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. If humanity could mass-produce Cloths and Saints, the Holy Wars wouldn't demand such sacrifices. Humans could defend themselves—a prospect Shion welcomed.
"Even so, Your Holiness, I must decline." Steve remained firm. He understood the principle of "nothing comes for free." While he'd help Sanctuary if needed, there was a difference between volunteering and being obligated. As a soldier, he valued freedom above enforced duty.
"Haha, don't be so hasty. Come with me." Shion chuckled mysteriously, leading them out of the Pope's Temple without giving them a choice.
Exchanging glances, the trio followed. Leaving now would be rude.
Their path led to a dark, cavernous hall.
"Old man, what is this—?"
Before Howard could finish, light erupted. The darkness gave way to a starry sky, where eighty-eight constellations shimmered—twelve golden Zodiac signs at the core, twenty-eight silver ones in the middle, and forty-eight bronze at the periphery.
Some blazed brilliantly, but most were dim.
"This is the Star Hill—the second most sacred place in Sanctuary. Only Myrin, Athena, and the Popes may enter. Here, we observe the stars to divine fate, for all things follow the celestial cycle.
It is also where unclaimed Cloths reside. While Gold Cloths await their masters in the Twelve Temples, all others return here when without an owner, waiting for the next to arise."
Normally, Cloths remained here until a suitable candidate appeared. The Pope would then interpret the stars and dispatch the Cloth to its destined wearer.
Shion had brought them here for a reason.
The Cloths had reacted to Steve.
"But Your Holiness, I already—" Steve began, but the starry dome trembled.
A bronze constellation ignited, its light descending upon Steve.
Shion grinned. His plan had succeeded.
As the radiance faded, the trio beheld what hovered before Steve—a white case, neither gold nor silver, pulsing with light as if calling to him.
"Your Holiness, what—?"
"While we choose Saints, the Cloths also choose their masters. Not everyone is worthy. Since the Shield Cloth has selected you, you are its bearer—until death, or unless your actions drive it away."
Steve sighed. It seemed his fate was sealed.
Rejecting the Cloth would leave the Shield Saint position vacant, weakening Sanctuary—something Steve couldn't accept. Yet he had no intention of dying or betraying his morals.
This was a trap he couldn't escape.
Moreover, from the moment the Cloth appeared, he felt an inexplicable bond with it—as if they were two halves of a whole.
Resigned, Steve placed a hand on the case.
Light flared. The case split open, revealing a crimson shield. The shield fragmented, its pieces swirling around Steve before assembling into armor, the shield itself settling onto his right arm.
"So heavy!" The weight crushed Steve to his knees.
"What's happening?" Howard and Peggy rushed to help, but the Cloth's burden was immovable.
"Your Holiness!"
"Old man, explain!"
Shion approached, resting a hand on the Cloth. "Patience. He isn't ready yet."
The Cloth disassembled, returning to its case. Steve gasped in relief.
"Your Holiness, perhaps I'm not fit to be a Saint..." Steve said wearily. Yet as the Cloth left, he sensed its reluctance—and a silent urging to grow stronger.
"Nonsense. The Shield Cloth chose you. That is undeniable. The weight you felt was because your Cosmo remains untapped, and your Sixth Sense unawakened."
"Cosmo? Sixth Sense?"
"Indeed. A Saint's power stems from Cosmo—the unique energy within all things. It cannot be copied or faked. To those who wield it, no deception is possible.
Most only awaken the five basic senses—sight, taste, smell, hearing, touch. Few transcend these to unlock the Sixth Sense, becoming what you call superhumans. The meditation techniques passed down by Myrin and Athena allow ordinary people to train for this, but the path is grueling.
The first requirement? The body must reach human limits. Steve, though enhanced artificially, meets this threshold.
With training, you may awaken your Sixth Sense—and with it, the right to wear the Cloth."
Howard's eyes widened. As a scientist, he'd dismissed mysticism, believing all supernatural phenomena could be explained by advanced science. But Shion's words opened new possibilities.
He burned with curiosity—not for wealth or fame, but to ensure Sanctuary would never fight alone again.
"It seems... I can't refuse after all," Steve admitted wryly.
"Steve..." Peggy took his hand, her gaze fierce with unspoken support.
"Peggy..."
Ahem.
This time, the cough came from Shion. While he supported Saints having personal lives, did they really need to flaunt their romance in front of a three-hundred-year-old bachelor?
"Enough. Take your Cloth, and let's go."
Steve nodded, slinging the case onto his back as they left Star Hill.
"Steve, you'll stay in Sanctuary for now. Garan will oversee your training. Miss Carter, if you need to report back, we have a telephone."
Peggy froze.
A telephone?!
You had a phone this whole time?!
We didn't need to come here at all! We didn't need to suffer like that!
Her soul screamed in frustration.