Chapter 368
Chapter 368
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 368
Chapter Title: Beer and Revelations
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Ismailov stared at us in silence. Those blue eyes of his began to feel chilling in a whole new way. He glanced at the beer sloshing at the top of his glass and said flatly,
“It's alcohol.”
“Exactly! What kind~?”
‘Isn't he the one treating me like a dog...?’
I clicked my tongue at Elias's antics. Ismailov ignored the over-the-top reaction and steadfastly maintained his composure.
“It looks like beer.”
“Where's the beer from~?”
“I don't know.”
“Aah...”
Elias's shoulders slumped, but he quickly straightened up and said firmly,
“In situations like this, you gotta guess even if you're wrong, Sir Ismailov.”
“Why?”
“It's not always mandatory, but it keeps the vibe going~ If you say you don't know that seriously, it's hard to save the mood.”
‘Suddenly so pragmatic...’
Normally, Elias wouldn't react like this. No matter how seriously someone said they didn't know, he'd just ramble on by himself and drag them into it. Plus, Elias was the type who'd go rogue if he were in Ismailov's shoes, and even if he read the room, he'd smash everything if it didn't suit him.
He was going out of his way for Ismailov—maybe even touching on topics he hated himself—and I wasn't sure if it'd actually help. Haike might've picked up a thing or two from Elias instead of Ulrike. Anyway, Ismailov glanced at me before answering earnestly here too.
“Understood. But I don't know what kinds of alcohol they have in Bavaria.”
“Study up!”
“Is he drunk already? Unbelievable.”
Leo grabbed the back of Elias's shirt and shot him a glare. Elias spread his hands to show he got it, then pulled out another glass, slammed it on the ground, and passed them out one by one.
“You've gotta revere Haike Ainsidel as your lifelong benefactor.”
At that, Mecklenburg flashed his public-friendly smile.
“Haike Ainsidel's the mastermind, huh.”
“......”
“Impressive skill. I won't tell anyone. But you can't pull this off back at headquarters or the officers' quarters.”
“Of course not.”
Elias nearly showed his temper for a second but grinned slyly and wiggled his eyebrows. Knowing the lingering resentment toward Mecklenburg among friends wasn't fully gone, I eyed the space between them and snapped at him.
“What's with the lecturing? Not like you.”
“Guiding juniors is a senior's duty, Sir Ascanien.”
I almost whispered to Ismailov that guys like him were top of the no-drinking-party list but held back. This lineup wouldn't create another mad situation anyway. I recast the soundproofing spell and asked lowly,
“Funny hearing you talk about senior duties. You didn't stop this and even backed it—pretty confident, huh?”
“What's there to be unconfident about?”
“Must've spent your whole 25 years boozing. You barely tolerated wine at school, yet here you are.”
Mecklenburg looked puzzled for a moment, then brazenly replied,
“No idea what you're on about, but I'm good at moderation. Besides, isn't Sir Elias Hohenstaufen bringing booze right now to get a confession? Setting the mood works in our favor.”
I stared at him wordlessly, then dropped the soundproofing spell and muttered,
“Regulate yourselves.”
When I looked ahead again, everyone except Ismailov was waiting. Ismailov was just staring at the glass in front of him, so it was hard to say he was waiting. Elias grinned and asked,
“Done chatting~?”
“Yeah.”
“Then cheers.”
Elias raised his glass to eye level and stared us down.
“To Sir Ismailov.”
“To him.”
“Why's it so heavy this time, again.”
Leo muttered that and downed his drink. Ismailov stared blankly into space with no reaction, so Elias had to guide his every move with his other hand. After clinking glasses awkwardly, while we all poured the beer down our throats, Ismailov set his glass on the ground and watched us. Elias finally noticed and gaped before yelling,
“You gotta drink! Who toasts and doesn't drink?!”
“Indeed.”
“'Indeed' my ass~! Chug it!”
“But I don't drink beer.”
“What kinda German are you... Wait, you're not German. Vodka then?”
Faces of 'Germans who hate beer' I knew flashed through my mind. Leo seemed to think the same, giving Elias an incredulous look. Ismailov replied firmly regardless.
“Eucharistic wine.”
“What? What's that cult crap... Time to initiate you into beer!”
“But drinking is a sin.”
“Isn't drinking Jesus's blood drinking?”
“No.”
“Then drink real blood—why wine? I heard from that guy you don't drink blood.”
Ismailov blinked, unable to parse the chaotic question. I had no idea what the flow even was anymore. Leo sighed and answered,
“No need to respond. Just drink already. Won't stop till you do.”
“I can't drink unverified substances.”
“That's the issue~!”
Elias snatched Ismailov's glass outright. Despite having his own, he chugged about a quarter of Ismailov's beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and shoved it back.
“See? I drank too. Your turn.”
Ismailov stared into Elias's eyes, then brought the glass to his lips. He took a sip, swallowed slowly, and lowered it. For the first time, he squeezed his eyes shut then cracked them open narrowly.
“......”
All eyes locked on him. Everyone was curious about the Pleroma prophet's reaction to his first alcohol. In the silence, Ismailov spoke.
“It has no taste.”
‘So he does have taste buds.’
I'd figured this stiff would down it without flinching.
“No taste...? Then what do you like?”
“Nothing.”
“Guess I can't guess then...”
Elias pouted, then smiled and patted his shoulder.
“What're you doing? Drink up.”
“It has no taste.”
“That's when you just drink~”
Ismailov alternated glances between the booze and empty air. But he didn't hesitate long and followed Elias's lead obediently. Seizing the moment Elias focused on him, I sipped just half a half-mouthful. Narke, still silent, did the same.
And so, an hour passed.
“Ehey, you're not burning it off with divine power, right?! Rude much? Huh?”
“Is that really divine power he's using?”
I heard Elias's scolding and Mecklenburg's question. Lying on the damp grass staring at the sky, I turned to Ismailov.
He sat straight-backed, eyes closed. The Pleroma Messiah couldn't hold his liquor.
“Passing out after three glasses...”
Mecklenburg let out a hollow laugh, eyeing Ismailov's shut eyes. Made sense. Mecklenburg's claim of no worries wasn't bluffing—he wasn't drunk at all.
Then Ismailov spoke with eyes still closed.
“My tongue's numb, words come hard. Opening my eyes makes me lose direction, and sleep keeps coming.”
Elias, who'd been chugging sans snacks, widened his eyes.
“Who asked for a status report? Obvious you're drunk.”
“Then what should I do?”
“Keep drinking! No time to talk!”
“Hey! Enough...!”
Ignoring Leo's restraint, Elias beckoned Ismailov.
“Hm, no. Tell me more impressions.”
“No taste. Normal thinking's hard. Intense euphoria, but it induces irrational thoughts.”
Elias grinned ear-to-ear and leaned his head close.
“Euphoria~? Why's that?”
“Alcohol on the brain...”
“Nope! It's 'cause you're getting close to us!”
‘What a stretch...’
I glanced at Mecklenburg like watching the last brake fail, but he just watched intrigued. Ismailov didn't yield to the nonsense and stuck to his knowledge.
“But from what I learned, alcohol...”
“Nah. Would you be this hyped alone? This excited? No way. It's us making it so.”
“But...”
“C'mon. Just say got it~”
“Understood.”
At this rate, it was mind control sans divine power. Answering even this nonsense—guess our earlier chat helped. Elias shoved Ismailov's shoulder, toppling him, then lay beside.
“But why's your hair like that? Wasn't born that way.”
“It was from the start.”
“Doubt it. First time seeing hair my color in my life. Heard of one guy, so two now?”
“......”
“You know platinum blondes like us are rare. Especially me, stark white outlier in the family—can't not be curious. Never seen anyone as light as me, yet Pleroma's got two. You get why I'm asking?”
In other words, is it artificial? Ismailov fixated on the irrelevant.
“Not blond—white hair.”
“Yeah, yeah, bet they taught you that. But it's straight-up platinum blond.”
“White hair.”
“Blond.”
Elias scratched his neck sharply. Leo tossed in casually,
“Does look white-ish.”
“See? Near-white still counts as blond.”
“Near-white? You admitted it.”
“'Near' white~”
Time to separate these childhood friends. Otherwise, pointless chatter forever. I asked something linked to Elias's question but closer to the core.
“Sir Ismailov. What did you do before Pleroma?”
The question he skipped earlier. Even drunk-eyed, Ismailov didn't answer steadfastly—instead, maybe craving clarity, he asked back.
“Can I dispel the alcohol with magic?”
“...Asking that. Up to you...”
I whispered, glancing at Elias, but he'd already barked.
“No way! Why drink if you're decomposing it?”
‘...Conversations keep derailing.’
Screwed. Gotta stick together set hours anyway—might target Elias-free time for intel. As I rubbed my temples chuckling bitterly, an answer popped up.
“No prior life.”
“...You were born outside Pleroma. No prior life? Why?”
“None exists, so none.”
He gazed skyward, slowly closing then opening eyes. A clear voice followed.
“My earliest memory is of a small church in Berzeningken.”
“Berzeningken?”
“Remote village at Pilkalen's edge. My church overlooked Russia across the fields, with a magic-preserved fig tree as the only sight.”
Everyone went still. His first long speech. Unsolicited reminiscence, atypically. Not missing a word, I asked calmly.
“Pilkalen—East Prussia, right? Figs don't grow there; preserving one's tough. Surprising.”
“Local landmark. Pastor cherished it—I remember that.”
“......”
I exchanged looks with Elias and Narke.
“How old?”
“Three.”
“Then how'd you enter Pleroma?”
“The pastor who raised me was Pleroma.”
“So you said from the start. Why were you in Berzeningken?”
“Russian mages left me at the church and vanished.”
I saw Narke's bitter smile. Glad Ismailov missed it. I asked,
“Did the pastor name you?”
“They who made me did.”
“......”
Leo's intel had Ismailov surname info, Russian new-human missing cases/rumors. Recalling one bit, I said,
“Ismailov isn't noble. And you're... a new human, right.”
“Yes.”
Silence after. Wind and waves filled gaps till Elias yelled abruptly.
“Russian name, but big German from Germany. Why first beer now?! Huh?”
“Russians drink beer too.”
“Then what?”
“Drinking's sin.”
“Gotta fix that head.”
‘...Chaotic.’
Head spinning. Leo chided Elias wearily.
“Live knowing sin yourself. I'm done drinking.”
“No! You need to get buzzed.”
“Why me?! C'mon!”
“'Cause it's funny seeing you like that.”
Ignoring them, I propped my chin lying down, eyeing Ismailov. Time to weave my story in for comfort, I picked a topic and spoke.
“As you know, I grew up hounded by Pleroma.”
“So I heard.”
“To you, am I Pleroma?”
“Dunno. But I like you.”
What? I replied awkwardly,
“Ah, uh... Pleroma gotta friend only Pleroma?”
“You just said...!”
Leo, already suspicious of Ismailov, shot up. I quickly advised Ismailov,
“Best not say that aloud. Leads to misunderstandings.”
“How?”
“......”
What to say? I pointed at Leo vaguely.
“Like this. Change topics. Why no blood if Pleroma?”
“Blood pollutes, you said.”
Friends' eyes met mine. Desperate pivot, but intriguing reply.
“Pollutes. But Pleroma drink plenty.”
“Told me no. Never crave it anyway.”
“Only you forbidden...”
Note that. I signaled friends with eyes and asked,
“Anything curious about me?”
“Why do I like you?”
“......”
“Heh...”
Elias chuckled dryly. Momentarily speechless, I coughed and glanced at Leo. Ismailov, clueless, peered into my eyes clearly.
“Your eyes—like flames.”
“Me? Similar color...”
“No. Not color...”
“Enough!”
Better not share my story. Mecklenburg stifled laughs. Back-prickling stares made me sweat.
Clock showed near two hours here. More intel better, but tomorrow fine. Ismailov drunk-spouting nonsense—wrap time.
“Anyway. Tell about those Russian scholars. Curious.”
Ismailov pondered, then replied.
“Nothing known. Only left with me and seven golden candlesticks at church.”
Seven golden candlesticks. That sparked recognition.
“They left them?”
“Dunno. Could've sold gold for church, but pastor kept till my majority.”
“I see.”
I glanced at Narke, then asked,
“When'd Pleroma call you covenant messenger?”
“From start.”
“Makes sense. Myth spun in Russian-border village.”
I rose slowly, eyeing friends. They wore same expressions—got it.
* * *
“Myth. Literal myth.”
I set down Leo's docs on the table.
After escorting Ismailov to his room, we gathered at Nymphenburg's small building.
“He mistakes Pleroma-planted memories for childhood.”
If true, Pleroma stole even his early years. How unknown.
“Why think that?”
Elias asked reasons despite knowing. I smirked crookedly, shrugging.
“Mages from East leave baby and seven gold candlesticks at church? Plus magic-preserved fig in East Prussia nowhere near Mediterranean climate? All too contrived?”
“Hahaha~”
“Overly artificial, but gotta consider real possibility. Life's unpredictable.”
Narke, smiling throughout, dropped eyes whispering,
“...Feels bad. Insulting.”
“Yeah, yeah. Orthodox cardinal suffered heresy bullshit. Some wild stuff.”
“Not that way.”
Narke bowed head, eyes shut. Stifling silence—Leo sighed long.
“...Investigate Pilkalen Berzeningken.”
“Borderline entering it. Undeveloped; East Prussia fringe—population barely three digits. Outsider probe impossible.”
Elias raised brows intrigued at my words.
“Barely three digits... Rural sparse expected, but detailed. How'd you know?”
“Anhalt sugar beet industry.”
Beets scream Russia now, but Germany's researching hot. Anhalt's beet-heavy; East Prussia too, but fringe tough—sparse pop. Studied for Anhalt edge—included East Prussia. No time explain source.
“Pleroma's planted there already. Could be trap luring us.”
Leo nodded.
“Maybe. Check Pilkalen/nearby residents who left past decade.”
“Good~ Then Luca, chatted him—spill your hypothesis. Why's he here?”
Need more clues. Initial two ballooned. But I nodded first.
“First: If making him god real, sending earthward meaningful. Living here fulfills condition.”
Divinity manifestation. Stack suffering here. Their 'new covenant'—we Romans, him persecuted only begotten.
“Pretty fantastical hypothesis.”
“Exactly. Till we know Pleroma prophecy, consider even wild ones. Second: Similar but he needs extra earthly feat for full divinity. Steal relic, make 'apostles' say.”
“Hm.”
Elias nodded satisfied.
“Good. Rational over dumb 'for peace' crap. But what's the condition?”
“Interpret from now.”
“Sweet. One more though.”
I raised brow—go on. Elias tilted head smiling.
“Didn't say the core one.”
“You know.”
“Third~?”
“Too early. Need more clues.”
“Hm, okay...”
I shifted from slouched Elias to others.
“Interpret before swapping intel. Narke, seven gold candlesticks thoughts?”
Seven gold candlesticks. Seven stars. Revelation: Christ-like amid seven candlesticks, seven stars in right hand to John. Narke recited eyes closed.
“...His right hand held seven stars, sharp double-edged sword from mouth, face like sun at full strength. Fell at feet as dead; laid right hand saying, Fear not—I am First and Last, Living One. Was dead, now alive forever—keys of Death and Hades. Write what you see, present, future.”
“Hmm.”
“Key's after. Stars: angels of seven churches; candlesticks: seven churches.”
“Wow. How memorize~?”
“Haha. Ismailov said came with seven gold candlesticks. So... Luca's right—myth. Pleroma prophecy starts thus, true or not.”
Elias shrugged sneering.
“Obvious, but feels slapped-on symbols. Culty.”
“Even symbols—Pleroma'll make real. Can't list all theologians, but sevens mean 'all' here. Seven candlesticks: all Pleroma parishes fine.”
Elias nodded at Narke's answer.
“Yeah. Stars their leadership? Why candlesticks not stars too?”
“Seven star shapes... tacky.”
Imagining drew laughs. I added,
“If Pleroma memory ties prophecy, candlesticks/church held by pastor = Ismailov's already. Pleroma leaders run it proxy till godhood. Stars absent from start.”
“Absent from start.”
Elias asked seriously.
Purely 'myth' basis. Calling non-god's youth myth feels mocking—true-ish. Sorry Ismailov, but artificial tale obvious.
‘Weak at such speculation.’
Friends eyed Narke for validation. He just watched me silent. I rubbed head, continued.
“In Pleroma prophecy, 'covenant messenger' precedes 'lord you seek'—messenger's divinity incomplete. So... find lacking seven stars for his divinity maybe.”
“......”
“Fits second hypothesis. Pleroma sent Mikhail Ismailov for seven stars.”
Narrow: seven church angels. Broad: Pleroma world. Latter contradicts—world-Pleroma by 'lord' arrival; can't precede it. So sevens literal/small number.
Silence. Leo asked stony-faced.
“Seven?”