SSR Waifu Summoner

According to the story, the First Saintess, despite her beauty and apparent holiness, had been a betrayer.

When the First Hero led his companions against the forces of darkness, she had stood by his side as his most trusted advisor and spiritual guide.

But with her transcendent beauty and honeyed words, she had tempted him.

Led him astray from his righteous path.

Whispered poison in his ears until his judgment became clouded and his resolve weakened.

Some versions of the tale claimed she had been a spy for the enemy all along, her beauty a weapon more devastating than any blade.

Others suggested she had fallen to corruption herself, dragged down by pride in her own holy appearance.

The specifics varied, but the conclusion was always the same.

The First Hero, realizing her betrayal, had been forced to seal her away.

Not to honor her.

Not to preserve her for some future need.

But to punish her sin and protect the world from her corrupting influence.

She had been officially registered as the First Saintess not as a title of respect, but as a cover.

A way for the Inquisition to hide the shameful truth that one of their own had nearly destroyed everything through betrayal.

"... Beauty can be a terrible weapon," Brutus murmured, beginning the standard verification process by channeling his divine power to scan the door's integrity. "Especially when wielded by one who appears holy."

"Makes you wonder if those portraits do her justice after all," Fenrer added darkly. "If she truly looked that beautiful, no wonder the First Hero fell for her–!"

He paused mid-sentence, his expression shifting from philosophical contemplation to confused attention.

"What?" Brutus immediately moved closer, his own power activating to assist the inspection.

"... The resonance feels off," Fenrer murmured, frowning as he concentrated. "The seal should be responding with uniform strength across all layers, but there are... gaps?"

"That's impossible," Brutus stated flatly. "This seal has been maintained by every Pope since its creation. It's the most heavily reinforced binding in existence."

"I know what should be impossible!" Fenrer snapped, his usual casual attitude completely gone. "But I'm telling you, something is wrong!"

Both bishops pressed their hands against the crystal door, pouring their combined power into a deeper scan.

What they found made the blood drain from their faces.

"..."

"..."

The seal wasn't just weakened.

It was gone.

Completely absent, as if it had never existed in the first place.

The prayers and bindings carved into the crystal were still present, still visible.

But they were empty vessels now, devoid of the divine power that should have filled them.

Like looking at a corpse that retained its shape but no longer held life.

"Open it," Brutus whispered, his voice tight with dread.

"Are you insane?!"

"We need to verify!"

Fenrer wanted to argue, wanted to refuse, wanted to pretend they hadn't discovered this catastrophic failure.

But duty demanded confirmation.

With trembling hands, both bishops channeled their authority to unseal the door.

If the bindings were truly gone, it should open without resistance.

If something terrible waited inside, at least they would know.

*Creak...*

The crystal door swung open silently, offering no resistance whatsoever.

The chamber beyond was revealed in all its tragic emptiness.

A beautiful space, really.

Perfectly circular, with walls of white stone that seemed to radiate gentle warmth.

At the center stood an ornate coffin, its lid carved with images of the First Saintess in repose – though notably, the carvings showed her with hands bound and eyes closed, subtle indicators of her true status as prisoner rather than honored dead.

Golden light filtered down from an unseen source above, creating an almost heavenly atmosphere that felt bitterly ironic given the chamber's true purpose.

It should have been a scene of eternal imprisonment.

The punishment of their order's greatest betrayer.

But the coffin stood open.

Empty.

The silk lining that should have held a bound body lay undisturbed but vacant.

"She's... gone."

Fenrer's words barely qualified as a whisper, spoken with the kind of horror usually reserved for witnessing apocalyptic events.

"Impossible," Brutus repeated, but the word carried no conviction now. "The seal, the bindings, the prayers, all of it designed to ensure she could never be freed – "

"We need to inform the Pope," Fenrer finally managed. "Right now. This instant."

They fled the chamber with speed that would have been undignified under normal circumstances.

But these were far from normal circumstances.

***

The Papal Chambers occupied the highest level of the Grand Cathedral, a space of opulent luxury that spoke to centuries of accumulated wealth and power.

Pope Edris IV sat upon his gilded throne, his considerable bulk barely contained by the ornate chair despite its massive size.

Layers of blessed robes draped across his rotund form, golden embroidery straining against the fabric.

Unlike his usual demeanor, however, the Pope's expression carried unusual gravity today.

Before him stood several high-ranking clergy members, all discussing the preparations for an event of historic significance.

"The quarters for Lady Brunhilde have been prepared according to Celestial Cradle standards," one priest reported respectfully. "All protocols for receiving an envoy of her stature have been observed."

"Good, good," the Pope nodded, his voice carrying genuine respect rather than his typical dismissive tone. "Lady Brunhilde's visit represents the first direct contact with the Celestial Cradle in generations. We must show proper reverence for this opportunity."

Even someone as comfortable with authority as Pope Edris IV understood the importance of humility before certain figures.

Brunhilde was no ordinary envoy.

She represented the Celestial Cradle this time, a legion whose authority transcended even the Inquisition's considerable power.

To disrespect her would be to court disaster on a scale that made political concerns seem trivial.

"Y-Your Holiness!"

The chamber doors burst open without warning.

Fenrer and Brutus practically fell through the entrance, their faces flushed from sprinting up countless stairs.

Both were panting heavily, their ceremonial robes disheveled in ways that would normally result in censure.

"What is the meaning of this…?" Edris IV's voice carried reproach, but he gestured for them to approach despite the breach in protocol. "Have you forgotten that we are preparing for Lady Brunhilde's arrival?"

"F-Forgive us, Your Holiness," Brutus gasped out between breaths. "But we bear urgent news that cannot wait!"

The Pope studied their expressions – the pale faces, the trembling hands, the barely contained panic in their eyes.

Whatever had driven them to such desperate rudeness must be serious indeed.

"Clear the chamber," he ordered quietly.

"..."

The other clergy members exchanged confused glances but obeyed without question.

Within moments, only the Pope and the two High Bishops remained.

"Now then," Edris IV leaned forward, his considerable bulk shifting. "What has you both looking like you've seen the end of the world?"

Fenrer and Brutus exchanged glances, each silently hoping the other would speak first.

Finally, Brutus took the burden.

"Your Holiness... the First Saintess. She's... she's gone."

"..."

The silence that followed could have been cut with a knife.

Pope Edris IV's expression didn't change immediately, as if his brain needed several seconds to process what he'd just heard.

Then his face went through a rapid series of transformations.

Confusion.

Disbelief.

Realization.

Horror.

"... What did you just say?"

The question came out dangerously quiet.

"The Sanctum of Eternal Rest has been breached, Your Holiness," Brutus reported formally, trying to maintain composure. "The seal is completely gone. The chamber is empty. The First Saintess is… nowhere to be."

*CRASH!*

The Pope's fist slammed down on his throne's armrest with enough force to splinter the wood.

His face had gone from its usual ruddy color to an alarming shade of purple, then drained to ashen white.

"How?! Those seals were maintained by divine authority itself! They should have been impossible to break!"

"We don't know, Your Holiness," Fenrer admitted. "There are no signs of forced entry. No residual magic from a breaking. The bindings simply... ceased to exist, as if they were never there."

The Pope's hands trembled as he gripped his throne.

For several long moments, he simply sat there, breathing heavily as the implications crashed down upon him.

Then, with visible effort, he composed himself.

"... The preparations for Lady Brunhilde must continue," he said finally, his voice strained but controlled. "We cannot – we will not – dishonor the Celestial Cradle by canceling or postponing her visit. That would be unthinkable."

"But Your Holiness–" Fenrer started to protest.

"I said the preparations continue." The Pope's voice was final. "... However, we must also act on this crisis immediately."

He turned his attention fully to both bishops, his expression deadly serious.

"You two will personally lead the search for the First Saintess. Mobilize every resource at your disposal. Recall field agents. Contact our divination experts. I want her found before Lady Brunhilde arrives, if at all possible."

"We understand, Your Holiness," Brutus bowed deeply.

"Do not spread word of this beyond those absolutely necessary to the search," the Pope continued. "The last thing we need is mass panic or, worse, for this information to reach Lady Brunhilde during her visit."

"Yes, Your Holiness."

As the two bishops turned to leave, a younger priest hesitantly entered the chamber.

"Your Holiness? I apologize for the interruption, but there's been a question from the preparation committee. They wish to know why we're also initiating mobilization protocols alongside the reception preparations. The dual operations are causing some confusion among the lower clergy."

The priest looked genuinely puzzled, clearly unaware of the crisis unfolding around him.

Pope Edris IV closed his eyes for a long moment.

When he opened them again, they held a weariness that seemed to age him decades in an instant.

"Tell them," he said quietly, "that we are… taking precautions."

"Precautions, Your Holiness? Against what?"

The Pope's voice dropped to barely above a whisper, but every word carried the weight of absolute dread.

"... Against the Dark Catastrophe."

"..."

The chamber fell into crushing silence.

Even the young priest, who clearly didn't fully understand the reference, felt his blood run cold at the way those words were spoken.

"...Y-Your Holiness?" he ventured hesitantly. "W-What is the Dark Catastrophe?"

"..."

Pope Edris IV rose from his throne with difficulty, his considerable bulk seeming even heavier under the burden of knowledge.

He walked to the massive window overlooking the transformed landscape – the merged world of Reality and Fantasia spread out beneath the cathedral in all its chaotic beauty.

"There is an ancient prophecy," he began, his voice carrying through the chamber like a funeral bell. "Passed down through every generation of the Inquisition since our order's founding. Most believed it to be metaphorical. A warning couched in symbolic language."

He turned back to face them, and the expression on his face made even the experienced High Bishops feel a chill of primal fear.

"We were wrong."

The Pope's hands trembled as he spoke the words that had haunted their order for millennia:

"When the First Saintess walks free once more, the Dark Catastrophe shall follow in her wake that would envelop the world in darkness and destruction… What was sealed must remain sealed, for her release heralds the end of all things."

"..."

The young priest's face went white as parchment.

"But... but Your Holiness, surely that's just – "

"The First Saintess has escaped her prison," Pope Edris IV stated flatly. "The seals that held her for thousands of years are gone. She walks free for the first time since the age of the First Hero."

He looked at each of them in turn, his gaze carrying the weight of terrible certainty.

"The prophecy has been fulfilled. The Dark Catastrophe is coming."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

Outside the window, the violet sky seemed to darken imperceptibly, as if the universe itself was responding to the revelation.

Somewhere in the merged dimension, a woman of transcendent beauty walked free after millennia of imprisonment.

And in her wake, destruction would follow.