Chapter 29
Chapter: 29
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>Translator: penny
>Chapter: 029
>Chapter Title: The Black Prophets (4)
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>On the morning of Kenneth Digory's gathering, Seongjin meditated in the training hall as usual and threw himself into practicing the first form.
He finished his training a bit earlier than normal, showered, and prepared for a simple outing.
There had been another round of major clothing alterations in the meantime, and now no one would look at Seongjin and think of the old chubby kid.
His still-growing limbs had stretched out sleek and free of excess fat, with firm, attractive muscles taking root all over his body where the flab had vanished.
Seongjin smiled contentedly at his newly sharpened figure in the clothes.
Looking like this, Mores was actually quite a handsome guy. Well, the genes from those stunningly attractive parents weren't going anywhere.
With just Sir Masain and Sir Kurt as his escorts, Seongjin rode in a carriage toward the meeting place on the outskirts of the capital. Up until then, he was in the lighthearted mindset of just getting some fresh air.
The carriage left the city center, crested a couple of hills, and began passing scattered old mansions. The poor road conditions made it jolt harshly.
“This isn't the sort of neighborhood where capital nobles usually stay. I can't believe there's a social gathering in a place like this.”
Sir Masain frowned at the somewhat gloomy old houses. That was when they should have noticed something was off.
Before long, Seongjin's party arrived at a massive mansion that could charitably be called antique—or objectively speaking, looked ready to spit out ghosts at any moment. The garden, seemingly untouched by any gardener's hand, was overgrown with bushes, and withered ivy completely blanketed the walls and the house itself.
“......”
“Is this really a place where people live?”
A rare look of unease crossed the ever-composed Sir Kurt's face.
As they peered around thinking it was an abandoned ruin, a servant appeared at the entrance and guided them inside.
The group walked a long way down an old corridor thick with dust and spiderwebs in spots that hadn't been properly cleaned, finally reaching the banquet hall. A growing sense of unease crept in that something was very wrong.
The escort knights were stopped at the hall entrance. As Masain started to protest, Seongjin quietly shook his head. They'd come this far—might as well see what kind of gathering it was.
Besides, Seongjin had borrowed a real sword from the armory and wore it at his waist, just in case.
His swordsmanship might be beginner-level, but he was still a seasoned monster hunter with decades of combat experience under his belt. No matter what happened, he was confident he could get himself out in one piece.
Creak.
The door opened with a heavy groan, revealing the full scene of the banquet hall at a glance.
Seongjin flinched in surprise as he stepped inside.
Six young men in pitch-black hooded robes pulled tight over their faces rose from their seats in unison and approached him.
The banquet hall was shrouded in thick curtains even in broad daylight, letting in not a single ray of light. In the center stood a lone massive mahogany table.
Under the faintly flickering candles scattered about, the youths' long shadows stretched in all directions, swaying eerily.
What was this? Some sinister cult on the verge of summoning demons right then and there?
“Welcome to the gathering of the Black Prophets.”
The young man at the front spoke as he removed his hood.
Seongjin had thought this was some demon-worshipping leader out of nowhere, but the revealed face was surprisingly normal and likable.
The youthful face, barely past his early twenties, was handsome and straight-featured, giving off a diligent vibe. He looked just like the nice church boy next door—what the hell was he doing here?
“I've heard so much about you. I'm Kenneth Digory. It's an honor to meet you, Your Highness.”
His greeting voice was polite enough, but he didn't even offer the briefest formal bow to Seongjin.
Was he looking down on Mores, or was this group's atmosphere one that shunned excessive courtesy? Time would tell.
Seongjin just nodded without replying and slowly scanned the others. Their generally nonchalant reactions suggested none of them actually knew Mores personally.
Except for that one at the far left end.
The chubby-robed guy who noticeably panicked and fumbled when their eyes met.
That had to be him—the link between this group and Mores.
“I've heard a lot about you too. I'm glad we're together like this, Kenneth.”
Seongjin gave the now-hoodless youth a simple greeting, then approached the chubby robe with arms spread wide.
“Jonathan! Jonathan McAlpin!”
He grinned brightly and clamped down hard on the shoulders of the guy now backing away.
Gotcha, right? Where do you think you're going? You little punk who lured Mores into this shady group.
Seongjin hooked one arm around the trembling Jonathan's shoulder to pin him in place, then smiled at the rest of the group.
“Well then, shall we get to proper introductions now?”
After chatting a bit with the Black Prophets' members, Seongjin learned some astonishing facts.
First, all six of these black-robed youths, including Kenneth, were either classmates, seniors, or juniors from the Theological Academy. Jonathan McAlpin was Kenneth's junior by two years, apparently.
“The clergy refuse to explain any lingering doubts that come to mind. They just tell you to believe—and crush or suppress anyone who can't!”
“...Ah, yeah. Forcing blind faith without reason is pretty bad, sure.”
“The religious brainwashing and oppression that blankets this continent keeps people trapped in swamps of ignorance. What do you think, Your Highness?”
“Er, it's quite the problem, indeed.”
“Exactly!”
What kind of regular curriculum turned kids this fired up?
Was the Holy Empire's Theological Academy really okay like this?
Second, most of them were from fairly wealthy high priestly bloodlines in this theocratic society of Delcross. They were just the roundabout branch families, or even if direct descendants, the overlooked ones buried under a pile of siblings.
Like Kenneth, the fourth son of a second son or whatever.
“The theocratic society is an outdated structure that's fallen far behind the times. Look at the countless kingdoms and duchies subjugated by Delcross! They strain every nerve to keep Delcross's dispatched cardinals out of politics. And the result? Look at dazzlingly developing nations like Rohan or Brittany!”
“...Y-yeah. Religion and politics should obviously be separate. Of course.”
Less an attempt at church-state separation and more just dodging Delcross's meddling in internal affairs, probably.
“The custom where high clergy's direct heirs inherit top posts regardless of talent! Unless we break this chain, Delcross's future will never be bright!”
Seongjin just nodded along as the black-robed guy spat fervent rhetoric, swinging his arms like a conductor.
It was sound logic. He just seemed extra pissed because he'd benefited from a high priest's family but hadn't made the inheritance cut.
Third, Seongjin had assumed Jonathan had roped the dumb Mores in, but actually, Mores had been hounding Jonathan McAlpin for about a year to introduce him to the group.
No way—this utter moron was really out there doing pointless crap like that?
“Given the nature of our group, inviting the Holy Empire's prince here was practically impossible. I think Your Highness can understand the immense pressure we're under even now.”
Kenneth spoke in a calm tone, occasionally glancing at Seongjin as if gauging him.
“But you're close friends with our member Jonathan, and considering how generously you've supported the Black Prophets' activities financially over the past year, we couldn't ignore the prince's request to visit any longer.”
Seongjin nearly gaped in shock.
Mores had been funding another group?
“That consensus formed among the members.”
Jonathan, seated next to him, started fidgeting noticeably. Seongjin narrowed his eyes and glared at him.
At least one outside accomplice in embezzling palace funds was in the bag. Once they got out of here, he'd have to grill this guy thoroughly.
“To confess now, we may have subconsciously bought into the bad rumors swirling around Your Highness. Jonathan's the shy type, so clearing up misunderstandings was a bit...”
Jonathan's face turned ashen.
He probably hadn't been too keen on introducing Mores to the group. Well, since all those rumors were true, it wasn't fair to blame the guy.
“But meeting Your Highness in person today has made us realize once more how foolish our prejudices were.”
“Yes, we who call ourselves prophets precisely to shatter the ignorance born of prejudice—we weren't entirely free of worldly gossip either.”
“We're deeply reflecting on it.”
“Your Highness is truly the sole intellect among the Holy Emperor's kin who properly sees the empire's distortions!”
Seongjin had enthusiastically chimed in with agreement to every outburst, and it seemed their favor toward him had skyrocketed.
And fourth. The previous revelations were nothing compared to this.
“We hesitated long before agreeing to meet Your Highness, but today, we've resolved ourselves here.”
At Kenneth's steady declaration, the other four members besides Jonathan pulled their black hoods down to their chins again. Jonathan belatedly followed suit, but his chubby face was the picture of misery.
“We hereby formally accept Prince Mores—who strives from within to lance the pus from this rotting carcass of Delcross and bring a new future to the continent—as a member of the Black Prophets!”
The black robes nodded in unison. One of them handed Seongjin a robe just like theirs.
“Er... thank you for your decision.”
Seongjin hurriedly draped the robe over himself to hide his stunned expression.
“Now then, Your Highness. Please prepare your mind.”
Kenneth spoke in a solemn voice as he donned his hood.
“It is time to be initiated into the mysteries of this world as a Black Prophet.”
“......”
Seongjin's mind was growing endlessly more chaotic.
Weren't these just angsty teens with some gripes about society? Mysteries of the world—what?
Kenneth nodded, and one black robe pushed hard against an empty bookshelf in the corner of the hall.
Creak. The shelf rotated, revealing a small chamber-like space. A secret room with dark stairs leading underground.
This atmosphere was getting seriously weird.
Soon the Black Prophets, each holding a small candle, began descending the basement stairs in single file. Seongjin, stuck in the middle, could do nothing but silently follow without a word.
He occasionally stroked the hidden sword hilt beneath his robe as he descended the narrow stairs that seemed endless.
The unlit stairs grew darker, the footing unsteady even with the small candles, but soon greenish glowing moss began appearing around them.
At the bottom, damp stone walls covered in moss stretched on. Green spores emitting eerie light floated thick in the air, forcing Seongjin to hold his breath to avoid inhaling them.
They walked a long way along the moss-lined stone passage.
The passage gradually widened, ending at a massive stone wall. The group paused before a large door in its center, and Kenneth, who had been at the rear, slowly approached it, turning to face Seongjin.
“Behold, Your Highness.”
Even as he pushed the door open from behind, Kenneth's gaze stayed fixed on Seongjin's face. In a low voice, with a slightly exaggerated tone like an actor in a play, he proclaimed:
“This is the truth this nation hides beneath the yoke of religion—the mystery of the world!”
Creaaaaak.
Seongjin's eyes widened hugely at the sight revealed as the stone door slowly opened.
Right. The most crucial fourth fact.
These guys who looked like devil worshippers had indeed summoned something into this world.
More cavern than room, the vast space enclosed by stone walls.
In the center of that moss-encircled, green-glowing area writhed a pitch-black mass that could only be described as a gigantic maggot, undulating ominously.