Chapter 251
Chapter 251
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 251
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family
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“…Farnese.”
“…….”
Narke bit his lip at Leo’s mutter.
“Your family?”
“No.”
“Hmm.”
Leo nodded.
It didn’t take long to realize something didn’t add up.
“No?!”
“No, but yes. I have no idea how to explain this….”
“…….”
Leo pressed his fingers to the pulsing spot below Narke’s neck, then rubbed his forehead. Narke shook his head, catching the implication.
“Nah, I’m not crazy yet.”
“Good. Then explain.”
Narke stared at the face of Gabriele Farnese on the screen. Leo’s gaze followed.
He didn’t resemble Narke at all. Though he wandered around with that inscrutable smile of indeterminate depth, Narke was inherently soft-featured and kind-looking. Gabriele Farnese was tall and gaunt, with sharp facial lines. His eyes carried a faintly neurotic air. Among mages, it was rare to see black hair like Narke’s.
Usually, mana bleached the pigment, resulting in lightened shades, so even in the East—where black eyes and hair dominated—mages had yellow or light brown irises and hair. The same held here. In southern Germany like Bavaria, darker hair than blond was common, and his own ancestors had black hair, but after magic emerged, their descendants’ pigmentation lightened progressively until Leo’s generation looked nothing like Central Europeans.
Not every black-haired mage was special, but many exceptional ones had it.
And here was this suspicious figure with black hair, making even that suspect.
‘…Well, come to think of it, scum like Florian Osterhagen has black hair too.’
Hair color aside. It was a bit concerning that it matched Narke’s.
As Narke fell silent, Leo flipped over the newspaper he’d tossed aside and pointed at Gabriele’s hair in the photo.
“You said your people change colors when working. Why’s this guy keeping his natural color?”
“He’s not with the Papal States. He’s from the Kingdom of Two Sicilies. A noble from there.”
From there?
He spoke of his own family like they were total strangers.
Leo ignored that for now and raised the real question.
“Using that much divine power and he’s with the kingdom, not the Papal States? No reason for that.”
In the current Italian Federation, the Papal States held the strongest power. With that vast divine power reminiscent of Narke, there was no reason not to join them.
“Yeah. More than that, I can’t fathom what he’s thinking pulling stunts like this, though I do know…”
Narke ran a hand over his face and sighed.
“He’s not Farnese. He’s Caetani.”
“…….”
Leo looked up at the ceiling, resisting the urge to clutch his throat.
Caetani?
That’s…
“The surname you recommended to Lucas. Jeremiah Caetani.”
“Yeah.”
Back then, Lucas needed airtight identity proof to counter Abraham’s investigation. Domestic options were under Abraham’s influence, so they sourced one from abroad.
Using Farnese directly was impossible with Narke in-country. Instead, they borrowed from the Caetani family—long allied with Farnese and still actively exchanging.
That was that…
Leo gripped his nape and said.
“But this guy’s impersonating his family at an international tournament?! No, if you’re gonna cheat, at least do it right!”
“…….”
It wasn’t impossible by the rules. But no one normally did that. It’d get found out quick.
Unsurprised, Narke replied with a subdued expression.
“…It’s complicated. Our family doesn’t get along with him. Truthfully, it’s more like they unilaterally dislike me.”
“Why?”
“…Too personal to explain. Sorry. Even the family elders know he occasionally impersonates Farnese and let it slide. By old human reckoning, he’s like my cousin.”
“You share blood?”
Narke was silent for a long stretch. Only when Leo was about to give up did he murmur.
“In some ways, you could say that.”
“…….”
‘In some ways’? What did that mean?
Even with mana mixed in, they were distinct families. No way they’d tolerate such recklessness.
‘They must owe him something.’
The Farnese family to this Gabriele Caetani. Letting him cause trouble for Farnese was suspicious.
Narke spoke to Leo with a troubled face.
“Contact Lucas again, Leo. Not someone he should meet. He’ll try to vet Lucas. Ending the match in under three minutes was just to see him sooner. I’m sure.”
“Vet him how?”
Narke dry-washed his face, replying grimly.
“…He knows I’m close to Lucas.”
* * *
“…….”
Gabriele Farnese.
I sat in the waiting room, watching the screen. The player’s match was aggressively discourteous, utterly lacking propriety. And hardly admirable.
His final incantation had repeated the spell Narke once used to halt Auguste’s unique ability.
A magic blocking the opponent’s mana flow. Even I, who’d memorized divine grimoires in spare moments, didn’t know this theoretically—so it was likely family-specific or Papal exclusive. Given the scale and risk, more probably Papal canon.
From when the Qing player collapsed, the Italian’s restriction magic had worked on him. Yet chanting till time expired suggested impure intent. Like the French player earlier or me, deliberately voicing intent.
So, when did the Papal States use this? Why such a dangerous spell?
‘Obvious.’
Recalling the last scene and the third exam, it targeted heretics, pagans, atheists, materialists—or any canon law violators.
To the Italian, the Qing mage was a pagan. Tied to the imperial court believing Tibetan Buddhism, and due to Qing tolerance policy—or imperial ambition—they used sutras, Tao Te Ching, and Confucian classics in spells. Tao Te Ching dominated as it fit mage imagery of Taoists and immortals.
The player did nothing wrong, just flew in at imperial behest for their request—yet humiliated worldwide for using pagan texts. The Qing player wouldn’t understand Italian, but continentals did.
I hadn’t known Farnese had such a rude, disrespectful sort. We knew little of Narke anyway, unaware he even had siblings.
‘But they don’t look alike at all?’
Moreover, shockingly, he wielded a Two Sicilies wand, not Papal, despite the power fitting Papal ranks. Why a kingdom wand yet chant Papal canon?
Leo had said earlier, ‘Narke hopes you forfeit.’
I could guess why. Unlike quarters, in semis he skipped courtesy, using near-curse magic to seal mana—what did it mean? Why rush to end it?
‘I don’t want to think that.’
But considering why he suddenly changed from quarters to semis—the variable from his view. My gut pointed to him acting that way after watching my match.
To face me sooner, using illicit magic despite capability.
Pentathlon would’ve DQ’d special spells after 2-3 uses. Guaranteed. Not inability—not using them.
But no Pentathlon heads remained, and unidentified, he lucked out.
I could protest…
But no. He mustn’t DQ now.
And no forfeiting per Narke’s request.
Someone knocked and entered.
“Time to move.”
I eyed the staffer’s hand.
A cross glowed there.
Now, 50 minutes post-curse on 600,000. Can’t relax. Last code at ~40 minutes, so late but premature to assume abandonment.
But soon over.
Just a bit more.
I stretched briefly and followed out.
[ROARRR—!]
Cheers assaulted my ears, more gale than voices.
I emerged first again. As cheers ebbed, the opposite white door opened.
The Italian mage from the screen walked out slowly, unleashing fresh roars. He crossed to the arena’s edge like me. We stared 10 seconds.
Announcement.
[…3, 2, 1.]
[Begin.]
Rite turn: he raised wand first. Swept it to staff, mouth opening.
—Not from men, nor through man, but through Jesus Christ and God the Father who raised Him from the dead, Paul, an apostle…
‘Hmm?’
This isn’t…
The rite.
He raised staff lightly skyward.
—With all the brethren, to the churches of Galatia: Grace and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
Boom—
Staff struck floor lightly; light surged. White gleam and afterimage sparkled like blizzard in sun. Stage froze where divine passed. Operations purged it quickly, but illusion lingered.
Oddly, he’d made the rite a peace prayer.
[ROARRR….]
Cheers rose.
He smiled softly at me, greeting quietly.
“Greetings, brother.”
“…….”
Weird, but I nodded slightly and began my rite.
Then opened status.
[Gabriele Caetani]
[Affection -5] [Conquerable]
Title: מַלְאָךְ
Stamina: +7
Mentality: +8
Mana: +10
Technique: +6
Impression: 0
Luck: -2
Traits: Divine Power, Insight (Lv. 4)
Insight Lv. 4?
Excluding that, like or below Narke….
And…
‘Now I see why no resemblance.’
Familiar name.
The house used for Jeremiah Caetani ID. Narke recommended it.
Reason: cover for identity issues.
Irrelevant now.
Key: he knows Narke.
‘Hmm.’
Still, shortening from quarters to semis notable. Calling Farnese to signal connection?
Prior dirty play gone; he waited calmly through my rite.
As I lowered wand to finish, white attacks chained.
Boom—crash! Kaboom—!
I deflected with wand swings.
Stands hushed. Unlike quarterfinal cheers/whistles, total focus.
Gabriele Farnese—no, Caetani—flicked wrist, unleashing barrages.
As boredom set, quiet voice.
—Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, meditating day and night.
“…….”
—Not so the wicked, but like chaff the wind drives away.
Boom—!
Stamped hard, thrust wand.
—Therefore the wicked will not stand in judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous!
Silence. Nothing visible. But…
Thud—
[Be to me a rock of refuge, a hiding place.]
Kaboom—!
My mana spell strike exploded; stands gasped.
Knew his tricks from prior. No attack, yet boom on my barrier.
Meaning: invisible incoming.
“Hmm, be to me a rock of refuge…”
He chuckled, shaking head.
Then charged short-spoken.
“Atheist.”
Clang—!! Screech—
Wand to sword, blocked instant rush. Chilling divine from his blade. Eyes too, bar faint amusement/interest.
Atheist, huh.
‘Insight trait? How’d he know.’
Whatever.
Gov uses Bible in spells to curb Papal power—what? Magic tied to rulers makes it sacred inevitable. Old human scholars sneered ‘divine right revived via magic.’
Worldwide norm. Here, from stronger 19thC religion lingering in power tugs.
Even our 19thC, Catholic/Protestant rivaled. Empire matching Luther German Bible counters Papal/Catholic.
Doctrines/structures shifted post-magic, but human nature not.
No qualification mocking me scripture sans faith. All politics/ethnic strife.
Yanked sword, divine-infused upward slash. I retreated, parrying right-hook.
Clang! Chiiing—!
—Forsaking the law of the Lord and statutes with fathers, chasing vanities.
Pursuing blade’s eyes pierced depths. Clashing shrill.
Screech—grrr—
—And nations He commanded not follow…
[If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives heart, religion worthless.]
Flick—
His chant ended; blade divine winked out. Eyes twisted.
Expected. My left canon suppressed attacks. He hid mana traces, arrogant. Flaunting slow chants—I’d block nonsense.
Eyes widened briefly, then blank.
Whish—bang—!
Dodged swing, retreated chanting.
[Love never fails.]
Gaze dropped. Relentless sword pulled back. No visible assault. If transparent mana/divine, I’d stack canons accordingly.
Snapped fingers; white divine sparked futilely.
Disrupts foe mana operation. Like his prior, targets malice.
Infused mana foot, continued.
[Prophecies fail, tongues cease, knowledge passes. Know partially, prophesy partially; perfect comes, partial ends.]
—Create clean heart, renew right spirit within.
Bang—pop—boom!
Thrust wand floor, burst my launched mana, dodged like I had, sidestepped.
Quick recovery. Chant shook interference. Better than prior foe.
‘Not just any divine user. If ineffective, then….’
He slammed staff down.
Boom—!
—Thus says the Lord.
“…!”
Voice thundered onset.
Clutched ear reflexively.
—Behold, I judge false prophets misleading people with lies, vanities. I sent not, commanded not…
Crack—
Released ear; he appeared behind, gripped hair, chanted close.
—They profit people nothing. Word of the Lord.
Thud—
World reddened. Stands vanished, stone everywhere. Alone low in vast stone valley. Cliff one side. Red sky, waning moon. Sandstorm blinded.
Knew as divine mage.
‘Hallucination.’
Blood stench stabbed nose.
‘Ah, this bastard too.’
Fundamentally same. Motive unclear…
Strong trial vibe. Unlike French punishing amid mockery, this felt verification. My sense.
Unclear gain, why Narke’s acquaintance trials now? Just chance met?
Trumpet blared. Blood/hail from red sky. Cheek blood trickle revolting.
But…
Divine flows body, mind resists illusion—no fear. Maybe drug.
Breathed gore-reek, moved arms. Stuck. Stomped.
Kaboom—!
[Abide in me, words abide—you ask anything, granted!]
Dark mana cleared; blinked—white mana light filled vision.
[…9.]
[8.]
Red mana shards flew. Floor again. Foe crouched distant, my attack.
[…ROARRR!]
Reversal cheers.
As I sprang, narrowed eyes foe thrust wand.
—The Lord not guard city, watchmen wake vain!
Clang—!
Sleep magic. Deflected lightly, tilted head. Divine assault honed shrill.
Divine canon trait: poor vs. alert foes.
Bad matchup. Swung wand charging.
—He who hears you hears me.
Boom—! Crash—
‘Same spell again.’
Blocked Qing mana thus.
Each parry shattered invisibility, white divine blizzard-sprayed. Fierce winds tousled eyes/hair.
Must block my mana? Reciprocate.
[Remember not former, consider not old.]
—Forsaking forsakes me, me Him who sent. Seventy returned: Lord, demons submit name…
Persistent. Kept trying seal mana.
Eyed distant, swung staff wide not down.
[Behold new—now springs, not know? Wilderness roads, desert rivers!]
Kaboom—!!
Mana gale; foe-side stands recoiled.
He blocked arm-guarding face. Pushed to edge, heel-aired, glared. As mouthed, I chanted softly.
[Now mirror dimly; then face face. Now know partially; then known, fully know.]
“…!”
Grabbed arm.
Kept thrusting. Magic hit, yet no counter. Just dodged madly.
How?
Overrelied divine, forgot basics.
Reflection canon. Anti-reflection defense—fundamentals.
‘Didn’t expect easy divine reflection.’
Likely my divine enabled.
“…Ah, makes sense. Then…”
Deep breath, struck core spot other hand. Self-inflicted, easy undo. Slammed staff disrupt; he chanted.
—God judges every deed, secret, good/evil.
Darkened again. Blinked—endless sand desert. Expected mental magic, fully utilized impressive.
Anyway…
No lingering. He’d sussed response.
Kaboom—!
Stomped, shattered illusion. Voice immediate.
—Enter narrow gate.
* * *
Elias’s face twisted.
‘What the….’
What was this Farnese?
Lucas, wand-to-staff hasty, staggered. Head rose strained, dropped. Gabriele whatever disliked inefficacy, tilted head wand-out approaching.
—Enter narrow gate. Abide me, words abide…
“…!”
“That guy stacks canons like that.”
Beside, Julia muttered low. Alternating amplification/mental control.
—Gate destruction wide/broad many enter. Ask anything granted!
Head-low Lucas swayed. Not fully affected—still stood—but poor state.
—Gate life narrow/strait few find!
Reached, gripped hair yanking head like Qing—no mercy.
“Out the field.”
Clear German.
But Lucas staff-cane collapsed. Gabriele released, let fall.
Thud—
Scanned slowly.
“Rise.”
“…….”
“Why not?”
Lucas’s ragged breaths boomed mic. Elias’s fists clenched. Julia tapped shoulder calming.
“De hoc speciale nihil est, cur ergo hunc hominem eligis? Quare?”
Tilted head, addressed high camera.
Latin. Not spell—message.
[10.]
Countdown.
Shook head, knelt beside. Leisurely scanned, chanted again.
—Enter narrow gate.
“Why repeat…!”
“Dirty.”
Even Julia agreed.
Assumed no rise = spell fail.
Unfair pitting unrestricted divine vs. mages anyway. Rules incomplete, foe vile. Gabriele droned.
—Gate destruction…
[…Beware false prophets.]
“…!”
Elias’s eyes widened.
Faint, but Lucas’s voice.
Mana sparked hands; countdown paused.
Gabriele stared silent.
[…Sheep clothes, ravenous wolves. By fruit—grapes thorns, figs thistles?]
—Gate destruction wide/broad many enter.
Tilted, chanted.
—Gate life narrow/strait few find!
[…That day many: Lord, Lord—prophesied, cast demons, mighty works name!]
Elias held breath.
Faint voice, but Gabriele’s brows furrowed. Full mental chant, yet Lucas persisted. Seeming casual, tension showed—shoulders stiff.
How?
Drug resistance? Elias unsure. Lucas seized pressing hand. Pulled futile—too late.
[Then declare: Never knew—workers lawlessness, depart!]
Kaboom—!
Red flash. Elias squinted refocused. Gabriele’s gasp trailed; blinked—Lucas stood fully.
Lucas pressed eyes. Expressionless stared, chanted.
[Where light spreads, east wind scatters earth?]