Chapter 347
Chapter 347
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 347
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family
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“You’re Pleroma yourself—why say something like that?”
“Some noble of unknown identity who claims to have gone from Berlin to Austria-Hungary and then crossed over to Munich-Prising—why wouldn’t he buy it?”
“......”
“A Pleroma who should only be evil, chasing after lines of good? It’s absurd. We’ve only just met, and you’re already trying to pin me as good or evil. Does it even matter? If I’m on your side, I’m good no matter what I do; otherwise, evil. The hero of one nation’s past becomes today’s butcher, the heretic of then is the pioneer now—living in an era where history’s judgments flip like pancakes with ideology, have you never realized how childish and subjective those standards are, how fleeting and futile? So, in your mind, should I not harbor resentment toward Pleroma just because I am one? Or is it simply because I drink blood?”
“......”
If it were you, wouldn’t you hold back from asking right now?
But I had no intention of admitting you were wrong and I right, or agreeing that everything you said was spot on. I already knew where his words were headed—past me, straight to his own memories. Whether speaking to the world, to himself, or perhaps both, it was a spell cast beyond me. It wasn’t just something I could pick up on. Anyone who’s ever hurled words at their past self, dragged from some point in time-space, words that would never reach—knows what those words carry, what echoes they hold. Mecklenburg must have sensed it too; rather than questioning his face, he just watched his back with wary eyes.
“Believe me or not, up to you. Even if you see me as a liar, sophist, or con artist, I take no offense.”
Every word is a clue. In conclusion, his words, combined with his actions so far, explained to me why he’d be the bishop of Osnabrück seven years from now. He was already detached from evaluations— even those he leveled at himself. Anyone else, and the interpretation might differ, but considering the future he’d shown and the words he’d shared with me, this was profoundly dangerous. In other words, he lacked even the bare minimum of self-control. Or paradoxically, he craved only that blindly. All I could hope was that this was my misjudgment.
Kwang—
Before a room secured with all manner of protective spells, holding only the most vital secrets, Ainsidel kicked the thick door open like he was smashing it and chanted a spell.
—Seek, and you shall find.
Divine power surged from beneath his staff. I’d seen his divine power in Osnabrück before, but unlike that murky force, this one shone bright.
“Brandenburg Archdiocese.”
As he spoke, the divine power faded, and the gradually darkening room lit up in flashes from every corner. Ainsidel started pulling books from the nearest shelf. I grabbed everything from the shelf opposite him, imprinting them into my mind, then opened the proposal window a moment later. The gauge had filled just over two minutes. Pauses in talk didn’t count.
‘Conversation, huh....’
Thinking back on that last exchange, it warranted scrutiny. Time to question why the system proposed a 30-minute chat. Why not suggest raising affinity while we’re at it? Or spend days talking to win him over? I thought now was the time, and the system could argue for targeting Ainsidel endlessly— so why just propose 30 minutes? It had suggested raising Elias’s affinity, which would surely cost a fortune, but not for this person of interest. Acting like it saw through everything, why shout out a mere 30 minutes....
A flurry of thoughts crossed my mind, leading to one conclusion. No matter what I did, Ainsidel wouldn’t play along in conversation easily. The system wasn’t expecting more than 30 minutes—its estimate of his patience. All I could do was naturally extract info from him before that ran out.
And I couldn’t forget the main goal. My biggest reason and aim in coming here was Munich-Prising intel. Surely tied to our safety, so diverting some attention was fine— but never let priorities invert.
‘Well, anyway, this data’s definitely useful.’
Accounting for the seven-year gap, of course. This room held only the highest secrets, sparsely stocked, so no need to rummage— just memorize it all. Flipping through documents, I asked,
“Before taking us as allies, what was your original plan for this archdiocese?”
“Quietly steal the archives. Might run into the bishops en route, but no issue.”
“I see. Then why stir up such a heavily guarded place?”
“Since you told your friend you’d topple this archdiocese, achieving only my goal wouldn’t suffice.”
“...How kind of you.”
“Second, it’s been ages since I moved with a mage.... Beats me. Do people call this joy?”
“Wouldn’t know—don’t ask me. So, where to after this?”
“And you?”
“Back home. For now.”
I said that, then pressed right away.
“You wish Pleroma gone from the world—why stay one yourself?”
“How you knew I plan to stay is secondary.”
Ainsidel muttered like debating himself, then fell silent. Looking up, he stared fixedly at his book. Giving up on a reply, I stepped to shift shelves when his low voice came.
“The ambitions of the one I seek pierce the heavens—no words will sway them.”
“......”
“I’ve no choice but to yield to fate. If just that one stays with me, I’d gladly abandon anything.”
I intuited it. He spoke of someone I knew. The one I’d driven to death’s door. The young Federal Councilor of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, ambitions sky-high, seemed to haunt this spot. Mephen’s tainted mosquitoes, their butterfly effect, still lingered by me. Slowly closing and opening my eyes, I imprinted the paper’s words, those black strokes threatening to scatter. Holding Werner Strauch’s name wouldn’t do. Lips moving, I said,
“Why does that person move you so?”
Ainsidel didn’t answer. Only paper rustling cut the silence. I understood why fully. I wouldn’t spill my depths before a temporary ally either. To see into another, show mine first. Even then, might get nothing. Here, before non-friends, I voiced what I never wanted to utter aloud.
“I lived a life where nothing in the world remained for me.”
Shelf rustling. Feeling it mock my words emptily, I pressed on.
“What was wrong? Many causes, I don’t know. Too late, I realized even feeling unjustly different wasn’t there. Not maturity. Not from zero to next zero— stayed at zero always, so no one saw the middle. The resentment, ambition, hate, love, desire to be loved that humans feel growing up? Absent in me. Laughably, knowing it’s humanity’s prime drive for survival— precisely because I had none. Yet I never even thought to seek it.”
I let my forced tongue rest. No more after that. The next story? Mine to hear first. Mine and my friends’.
Enough? Ainsidel, eyes on his book till then, set it down, looked up at me. Meeting his blue eyes straight, I asked,
“So I wonder how you hold such fierce purpose. What of that person brought you here?”
Mecklenburg stared blankly at me. Why say this now? But it had to be. Ainsidel eyed me steadily, then turned back to the shelf.
“That person alone treated me as human.”
“......”
“A non-person like me didn’t even know I could think that— but no.”
So he’d already met Werner Strauch, not just to meet in future. Overreacting to Werner meant treading carefully on questions. Nodding, after a long pause, I said,
“Heading to Osnabrück?”
“Osnabrück?”
Ainsidel echoed flatly. His tone said no plans there. I’d thought he’d go for Werner in Osnabrück— so where was Werner?
Thinking it over, a Federal Councilor in Osnabrück was odd too. He should be in Brandenburg Archdiocese, or Hamburg for Mecklenburg-Schwerin. Suddenly west to Osnabrück?
Kwaaaang—!
“They’re here.”
Ainsidel dropped his book haphazardly, slammed his staff down. From underground, we were back on the first floor. I yanked Mecklenburg’s arm, switched wand to staff. Coordinate-targeting was key against Pleroma dioceses, as always.
Kwang—!
No time for idle thoughts. Black slime oozed down the barrier ahead, melting mana. Beyond, figures in soutanes with pink piping. Some purple.
‘...Monsignors and bishops....’
All gathered. Some would be in Pleroma’s ‘center’—the Order’s leadership—in seven years; others stay in Munich-Prising. They’d grow by then, but still valuable experience.
Kwagwagwang— splat—
Vitriol’s sticky thud wrinkled my nose instinctively. Innermost barrier shattered on impact. Shifting Mecklenburg behind me, I thrust my staff again.
[Fear not, for I am with you.]
A dome barrier enveloped us. Beyond, Ainsidel faced monsignors with vitriol, sword flashing solo amid them. Blinking, their positions shifted constantly. Not just leaping....
“Hey, those heretics...!”
“Warping.”
“Yeah!”
Slash—
Mecklenburg slashed a incoming black tendril, yelled. Knowing it mad to pit him against multiples, I shouted,
“Buy time!”
“What?!”
“Buy time!”
“You...!”
Kwang—!! Screech, thud—
Barrier groaned under pressure. No combat experience, yet not Imperial Second Academy’s #2 for nothing—Mecklenburg slipped out deftly without breaking it, firing spells at them. I stood firm, slammed staff to floor.
Thud—
[The word of the Lord came to me again: Son of man, set your face toward Mount Seir and prophesy against it.]
“Arghhh!”
Mecklenburg’s cry, then blade clash. Bishops and monsignors warped everywhere, dodging. No matter his skill, couldn’t leave him outnumbered. Pouring power into staff, I continued prep spell. Blue mana seeped endlessly into floor.
[Thus says the Lord God: Behold, I stretch out My hand against you, Mount Seir, and make you desolate and waste.]
“Ugh...!”
Screech, metal scrape. Mecklenburg barely turned, parried sword. Spotting vitriol on blade, backflipped. His face twisted. Empty spot till now—black-soutaned monsignor warped in. Sword arced over Mecklenburg’s head; I saw his upright eyes widen in horror.
Kwaaaang—
[I will lay your cities waste, and you shall know that I am the Lord!]
Hidden blue mana erupted from floor, blanketing ground. Warp-block spell. Warp afterimages from scattered priests cleared; question marks popped amid them. Monsignor’s gaze flicked at anomaly— Mecklenburg’s sword hand slashed diagonally up viciously.
Ching— slash—
“Aaaahk!”
One monsignor, warp mistimed, clutched arm rolling on floor. Blood and vitriol sprayed. Seeing blood on his blade, Mecklenburg paled.
“......”
He started like this too. Feels foreign now. Mecklenburg chanted multiple spells, switched sword to staff. Orange mana flared alien in dark space; enraged cries rose. Then a monsignor lunged hand at his barrier.
‘Not wand—why hand....’
Kwang—!
Faster than thought; I shoved the monsignor with mana, gritted teeth as floor hit head.
‘Damn it....’
Lucky it wasn’t Mecklenburg, the weakest here. One electrifies mana. Capture that mage for university—science advances fast.
—Faith’s prayer saves the sick.
Ainsidel’s divine power flowed from afar, easing my shock and stiff muscles. Light cleared: monsignor at Ainsidel’s feet; he yanked heart-stabbed sword free, swung into air. Blood sprayed.
Ching— thud—!
He met another charging monsignor. Skill-wise, his seven-years-ago self outdid future. Note to self.
‘...Whatever, good enough.’
Avoided timeline of infiltrating, fried by electrokinetic. Why I looped time multiple times: guys like him. Silver lining via Ainsidel: it works on mana, less or not on divine power—unique ability. Mana users lose regardless of skill; use differently structured divine power.
Kwang—!
I batted incoming black mud blob with mana, stood.
‘These are done.’
Over five corpses down, no unique ability shown? Low-tier. Saving for last? Check then. Quick scan: Ainsidel vs two bishops. Recalling initial warp count in sight— one more bishop here....
Looking up: second floor, mage tilting wand down. Chanting nonstop; piping deeper than fallen corpses’. Perfect— knew how to end. Slammed staff to floor.
[Were you there when I commanded the morning?]
“...!”
“Ugh!”
Blue burst from staff—Mecklenburg narrowed eyes, repelled charging Pleroma.
[Made dawn know its place, that it might take hold of earth’s ends, and shake the wicked from it?]
I eyed black mud bursting through light, channeled mana via staff.
[When earth changes like clay under seal, and all stands as in garment?]
Kwaaaang—....
Wave sounds echoed. Chilly wind slipped clothes, chilled skin.
[Light withheld from wicked, their upraised arms broken!]
Thud— whoosh—
Midair vitriol turned sandlike, scattering. Spread not just before me but whole archive; air whooshed heavily in ears. Pleroma shrieks muffled within. Gripping staff two-handed, I spun it once, intoned another spell.
[The Lord of Hosts will punish them with thunder, earthquake, great noise, whirlwind, storm, devouring fire.]
Air turned blue like in hand. Like pre-dawn cerulean sky. Slammed staff down hard.
[Multitudes of nations striking Ariel, Ariel and her ramparts beaten to distress— as dream, night vision—.]
Kwaaaang—....
Blast deafened; expected sounds cut. Watched blue fire pillars blaze around; now Pleroma screams overwhelmed ears.
“Aaahk....”
“...!”
Thud—
Mecklenburg— quick or from cathedral?— layered barriers multiple, collapsed pale and drained. I blasted divine power into his back, dragged to Ainsidel staring at ceiling flames.
“......”
Ainsidel caught him, chanted heal. Mecklenburg stirred awake. Ainsidel propped him up, unknown smile, asked me,
“You could do it—why not sooner?”
Knew what he meant. Tell him about timeline where I AOE’d ignoring uniques and ended? No reply. Time to interrogate upstairs bishop....
‘His eyes are odd.’
Ainsidel’s gaze swept me with strange intrigue. Decision made, gripped wand tighter, opened mouth. But hollow voice interjected.
—Truly I say to you.
“...!”
Not my spell. Vision spun. First time hearing, but effect told me. This was....
—Unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter heaven.
Thud—
Ainsidel-style mind control. No—beyond. Far past standard....
‘No.’
Crack—
Felt consciousness slip; bit tongue. Past Ainsidel I met wasn’t this strong. One who fell to my mind magic, stronger before? No time.
[Something’s off.]
Ainsidel’s voice buzzed distant.
[You kill without hesitation.... Like you’ve faced standoffs dozens, hundreds of times.]
“......”
[That spell earlier? Not anyone’s. Feels familiar. Right? We together in that someday? I must know.]
So that’s why Pleroma? Met me in Pleroma world? When? Never was Pleroma; you only in seven years.... His words tangled brain. He drew knife, sliced four fingers horizontal on left hand. Blood burst, streamed—splashed face? Breath choked, couldn’t discern. Flesh-bag of blood forced mouth, crushed throat. Mana-mixed blood wet tongue.
[See for yourself. Drink.]
[Guhk, cough...!]
Surely smacked his hand away—in mind; body wouldn’t obey. Ainsidel’s droning mind spell whitened consciousness.
[......]
No sounds now.
You could, why no instant AOE? He overlooked: unknown abilities demand caution. Blood-site vessels mana raged wildly. Drowsy disillusionment washed in unknown liberation pleasure; I opened eyes.
Kwaaaaang—!!