I Reincarnated as an Extra in a Reverse Harem World-Chapter 88: The Unseen Thread

Paladin Theron did not rush his mission.

That was the first rule of inquisitorial diplomacy. Never charge forward where shadows ruled. In the name of the Church, you moved like mist. Slow, cold, inevitable.

The High Priest had given the order—and Theron obeyed. But obedience did not blind him.

He spent the first days observing.

With him were five trusted Paladins—two from the east sanctum, one former knight turned deacon, and two inquisitors trained in public silence. Together, they split across Caerywn’s lower districts under the guise of routine divine audits.

They made no arrests. No accusations.

They simply watched.

And they listened.

Every pattern, every story, every whisper about Lord Cedric was gathered and sorted into careful scrolls. They interviewed merchants. Spoke with butchers. Paid visits to orphan caretakers. Tipped information brokers with blessed coin and spoke to smugglers disguised as traveling preachers.

But what startled them wasn’t just how many people had seen Cedric—it was how reverently they spoke of him.

"He laid hands on my child. Her fever vanished before the bell tower struck twice."

"He walked through the mud to reach a dying man, then sat beside him until morning. The man rose. The rot was gone."

"He doesn’t ask for coin. Just that we live better than we did yesterday."

Every tale pointed not to a man demanding faith, but to a man giving it away freely.

No sigils. No servants. No sermon.

Only results.

No one knew where he stayed. No one saw his face clearly. But his mark remained—on hands, on spirits, on the city’s shifting soul.

Theron began tracking patterns. Places where Cedric had been seen. Intervals between appearances. He cross-referenced events with slum movement and food distribution. The thread was winding.

He suspected someone was backing him. Maybe more than one faction. The Tradeis food supply lines moved too smoothly. Someone powerful was behind that. The coordination... too sharp for a one-man miracle.

And yet, no evidence surfaced. No voice claimed him. No banners flew.

Just this ghost.

This name.

And every step he took seemed to bloom hope from dry stone.

That frightened Theron more than anything.

The Goddess, in all her grandeur, hadn’t stirred the people like this in a century.

***

A Few Days Later

The Noble Council had not convened formally.

But they gathered nonetheless.

Not in the Hall of Swords this time, but in the lower chamber beneath House Vellane’s manor. A circular room of obsidian and dark velvet, where no echoes escaped.

Seven nobles again.

But the mood had changed.

Lady Nyssara Vellic Vellane was the first to speak, her fingers laced over her knee, voice cool and contemplative.

"The Church has moved."

A rustle of motion followed.

Lord Halverin Margron Dreswick grunted.

"Of course they have. Their influence bleeds when the people begin to hope."

Nyssara nodded.

"High Priest Veydran dispatched Paladin Theron. Quietly. No edicts, no ritual, just iron beneath the silk."

Ser Devran Ithiel Kalthis looked up from his goblet.

"Theron won’t act recklessly. He was trained to listen before striking. But Veydran gave him teeth. If Cedric doesn’t kneel, blood will spill."

"And if it does?"

came a voice from Lord Remen Duthal Aerix, an older noble whose holdings bordered the merchant district.

"If the Church kills this... envoy? What happens when the people riot?"

Silence.

They all understood the stakes.

Lord Ruun Tavian Tervahl leaned forward, arms resting on the table. His tone was practical.

"We may need to start considering... contingencies."

Nyssara’s eyes narrowed.

"You’re suggesting we intervene?"

"I’m suggesting we hedge,"

He replied.

"Whether this Cedric is divine, mad, or merely efficient—he has sway. And the Church is moving to destroy it. If they succeed, fine. If they don’t..."

Devran smirked.

"Then maybe we make a friend of the man who outplayed the High Priest."

Nyssara didn’t smile.

But she didn’t object.

In fact, several nobles in the room—older, quieter ones—began to murmur agreement.

It was a dangerous thought.

Treasonous, even.

To support a man the Church considered a threat to the divine order.

But politics was not about loyalty. It was about timing.

And the name Lord Cedric was beginning to sound less like a threat...

And more like an opportunity.

*****

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

✶ I Reincarnated as an Extra ✶

✧ in a Reverse Harem World ✧

⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

*****

Devran leaned back, spinning his goblet slowly between two fingers.

"If he’s smart,"

He said,

"he’ll welcome us when we extend the hand. We can offer him coin, caravans, safe routes through noble-controlled roads—"

"He won’t take it."

The voice cut across the table.

It belonged to Lord Elgan Marrik Vaerondal, the eldest among them. A man whose estates had once funded an entire city wall during the war with the south, and whose silence often held more sway than ten shouted decrees.

Devran arched a brow.

"You assume much, old friend."

"I assume nothing,"

Elgan replied. His voice was gravel, worn by years and smoke.

"I’ve just seen more miracles than you’ve read about."

He rested both hands on the darkwood table, gaze passing slowly over each face.

"If the boy truly bears the mark of the goddess... if he is one of the Favoured—the real kind, not those temple-propped frauds—they say such beings can see karma."

The room fell still.

The word lingered with quiet weight.

Karma. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

Not just reputation. Not influence. The soul’s weight, woven through a lifetime of action and consequence.

Halverin muttered under his breath,

"Old wives’ tales."

"Are they?"

Elgan said quietly.

"There was a seer in my grandfather’s time—said a divine walked among the westfolk. One who refused even a glass of water from a man who beat his wife behind closed doors. Never met the man. Never heard his name. Still refused the cup."

Ruun Tervahl frowned.

"You’re saying Cedric—this Cedric—if he’s one of them... he’d know what we are?"

"No,"

Elgan answered, staring into the table’s reflection.

"I’m saying he’d feel it."

"And with what we’ve done,"

Spoke Lady Mira Caelwen Estros, her voice slow and bitter,

"he might not even see a difference between the Church’s gold and our own."

She’d been quiet until now.

But her lands had once hosted an orphanage that burned down during a riot—because she hadn’t approved extra guards.

Her karma... ran deep.

The murmurs around the table softened into silence.

The truth was clear.

Every person at that table had blood on their hands. Not all by blade. But through decisions, negligence, greed, or convenience.

And if Cedric was what the rumors said—not a symbol, not a fraud, but the real thing—

Then no alliance would be accepted.

Not until he chose it.

Ruun finally exhaled, pressing two fingers against his temple.

"So we do nothing?"

Elgan shook his head.

"We watch. We wait. And we do not provoke him. Let the Church make its move. If they fail, we’ll know where the winds are blowing."

Nyssara Vellane nodded slowly. "Agreed. If he truly sees karma... then the best thing we can do is stay where he can’t smell it."

That drew a bitter chuckle from Devran.

The council ended not in consensus—but in quiet surrender.

They were the most powerful nobles in Caerywn.

But for the first time in decades, they had nothing to offer that would not be refused.

-To Be Continued