Chapter 211
Chapter 211
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 211
Chapter Title: Asking a Favor of the Contrarian Frog
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Krash followed behind Tersada, gazing out at the world beyond the Grand Temple.
Time had already slipped into mid-September.
While Raheln Academy was bustling with second-years scrambling to join the student order, the Grand Temple was equally hectic.
The Festival of the Gods was just around the corner.
Naturally, the priests and clerics preparing for it were run off their feet.
"It's quite the commotion with all the festival preparations, isn't it?"
Tersada spoke with his usual benevolent smile.
Clad in the Grand Priest's robes—white with golden dragon embroidery—and walking with his hands clasped behind his back, he exuded an air of profound dignity.
"It's only natural to be busy with festival prep."
Krash responded effortlessly to the man's words.
Tersada's eyes flickered with surprise, hidden from Krash's view.
Krash was only fifteen at most.
For someone that age to carry himself with such etiquette and the poise of a seasoned adult was truly remarkable.
Most would tense up just speaking to one of the Ten Great Powers of the World.
'He really is different. So this is it.'
Figures like the Ten Great Powers had ears everywhere across the world.
And lately, the name on everyone's lips was none other than Krash.
Young hero. Star of the next generation. The Valheim scion.
Krash, laden with endless accolades, had pulled off feats that stunned not just Raheln Academy but the entire world—time and again.
And perhaps because of that...
The aura emanating from him was anything but ordinary.
'An astonishingly pure energy.'
Even Tersada couldn't quite grasp the intangible force flowing from Krash.
Its magnitude was so vast it defied visual estimation.
'A young hero is extraordinary from the start, I suppose.'
Indeed, this one would draw envy from all corners.
'By twenty, he'll surely rank among the Ten Great Powers.'
Once that happened, even Tersada would hesitate to summon him lightly.
So Tersada reached his conclusion.
The Freeman Holy Kingdom, on the cusp of change, needed a new young hero.
A religious iconoclast who could sweep away the old order—like the Valheims.
Tersada halted abruptly.
He had stopped in a garden devoid of people.
The garden was impeccably pristine.
As if it were saturated with divine power.
It had once been a place the current Pope visited for respite.
But since the Pope had grown too frail to walk on his own, it now served as a discreet meeting spot for the Grand Priests.
"No prying ears here, so we should be fine."
Tersada turned to Krash, inhaling the fresh scent of blooming petals.
Krash's direct gaze burned with clear resolve.
"First, allow me to sincerely thank you once more for my daughter's sake."
"I only did what needed doing."
"Anyone can say that. But the world is full of those who fail to follow through."
It was a profoundly loaded remark.
"And you, Sir Krash, are someone who gets things done."
He strolled leisurely to the garden's center, pulling out a chair and sitting.
Krash took the seat opposite, and Tersada gestured lightly.
A butterfly formed of coalesced light fluttered in from the garden.
As if intimately familiar, it poured tea into Tersada's cup.
A butterfly conjured from divine power.
"Is there something you'd like to entrust to me?"
As Krash cut straight to it, Tersada's eyes curved in approval.
He appreciated quick wits.
"Yes. Since you came with the Saintess, you've likely heard from her. The Freeman Holy Kingdom is riddled with internal rot."
Surprisingly direct, Tersada laid it bare.
"Do you know how the Saintess is made, Sir Krash?"
Krash's eyes narrowed.
This Tersada.
He'd known from his past life that the man acted without restraint, but this was beyond expectations.
To casually spill a secret the Holy Kingdom guarded like a vault to an outsider.
The man was unhinged.
"...Is this something you should be telling a Valheim like me?"
"Haha."
Tersada chuckled briefly at Krash.
"The Saintess herself confronted the Holy Royal Family over this. And I know you met her before that outburst."
He'd approached with full knowledge.
"I have ears too, you know."
Krash eyed Tersada's curved gaze with displeasure.
"Worried about what I might propose?"
"When someone's willing to voice something like this, yes."
"Haha, no need for such concern."
Tersada waved it off and sipped his tea.
"I simply wish for you to accept one of the Ten Heavenly Swords—the Holy Sword."
And there it was: an absurd proposal.
One of the Ten Heavenly Swords: the Holy Sword.
Legends abounded around the blade passed down through Freeman's royal line.
Its wielder would save the world, and so on.
The usual tired myths.
The problem was, those dusty legends wielded tremendous power over public perception.
'Especially since Arthur wielded it in my past life.'
Arthur had used the Holy Sword before the regression.
It was the ultimate symbol for projecting strength to the masses.
Krash's expression grew subtle.
Arthur's sword was now being offered to him.
The Holy Sword held myriad values.
From its inherent power...
To perhaps luring out the Red Witch Adella.
After all, she'd be waiting for Arthur to return exactly as remembered.
'The real issue right now...'
Krash eyed Tersada.
'...is their intent in handing over the Holy Sword.'
He'd long known Tersada valued him highly.
Even now, he was deliberately channeling World Erosion energy into his aura via the Four Seasons.
That was why Tersada perceived his presence as so unique.
'I get using me like some epic hero to probe Mirei's matter.'
Freeman had packaged him as a grand hero.
He knew it was political maneuvering—and a bid to stake a claim on the rising holy star that was himself.
But that alone didn't justify surrendering the Holy Sword.
"You want something from me."
Krash spotted the other reason and fixed Tersada with his gaze.
Tersada met his eyes and tilted his teacup once more.
The deliberate pause was meant to build tension, withholding the answer.
'Playing the sly fox, are we?'
But Krash was inured to such tactics.
"You're sharp beyond your years, Sir Krash, so I trust you won't misconstrue my words."
Setting down his cup, Tersada resumed his gentle smile.
"I intend to expose the Holy Royal Family's manufactured Saintess."
Krash stared at Tersada, emotions steady.
"The Saintess is the family's deepest shame.
A hereditary symbol, perpetuated solely for optics. Of course, I hold the current Saintess's heart and power in high regard.
But I've witnessed one who was drained dry and discarded."
The fake Saintess who once rocked Freeman.
She'd been a past Saintess, deliberately sprung by the opposition.
Having clung to life via her divine power, she served long as Saintess.
Her mind shattered, she was squeezed of every drop and abandoned.
Tersada had surely seen her himself.
"To the outside world, it was spun as her fulfilling her duty and ascending to the heavens."
But in truth, she'd been used to the end as Freeman's symbol, then tossed aside.
"I believe that vicious cycle must end."
Krash agreed.
"And the wielder of the Holy Sword is perfectly positioned to dismantle it. A new hero uncovers the Saintess sham, intolerant of injustice, and severs the corrupt tradition."
Tersada's smile was benevolent.
Yet now it teemed with the cunning of a hundred serpents entwined.
From the moment Krash saved his daughter.
Every effort to cast him as a hero had harbored this scheme.
Even summoning him to the Festival of the Gods via Astria served that end.
Astria might have unwittingly invited her own noose.
"Wouldn't that be the ideal image for Freeman's championed hero?"
As said, Krash agreed with ending the Saintess tradition.
It was merely a human fusion of divine power, after all.
But one unresolved issue remained.
"What of Saintess Astria?"
Who was the current Saintess?
Astria.
Krash cared little for other Saintesses.
He aimed to avert the world's end, not play universal savior.
He only wanted to protect his own.
And right now...
Astria was irreplaceable to him.
From past-life bonds to the present.
She was among his most cherished.
Branding the Saintess role a vicious tradition would shatter her life.
No matter how desperately she yearned to escape that cage.
She had lived as Saintess, after all.
That was the outcome Krash dreaded most.
"You seem quite close to Astria, Sir Krash."
"Naturally. We're second-year classmates, and she's helped me plenty."
But Krash betrayed nothing.
He knew it could become a vulnerability to exploit.
"And I know her rescues stemmed from pure goodwill. Something you recognize too, Lord Tersada."
"Yes, I won't deny that."
No matter the tradition's rot, Astria's deeds were real.
Just as the voice said, in mere minutes of talk, they'd been probing each other's intentions relentlessly.
"So, back to my first question."
Krash pushed aside the untouched teacup.
"What of Saintess Astria?"
A blunt demand to cut the circling.
"We'll strip her of the Saintess title."
Tersada answered plainly, accepting the pivot.
"And I'd like the hero who claims the Holy Sword—you, Sir Krash—to handle it."
This was a transaction proposal.
Tersada and the opposition were dead set on abolishing the Saintess role, consequences be damned.
That resolve wouldn't waver.
Nothing would eclipse stripping the Saintess title in igniting a religious revolution.
Hence the offer.
They'd handle the deposition; Krash could decide her fate.
In exchange, play the Holy Sword hero as their puppet.
That way, at least protecting Astria would fall to him.
"Give me time to think."
Krash rose from his seat.
"Of course. By midnight today, if you please."
Tersada didn't stop him.
He knew an answer would come soon enough.
Beneath his subtle smile...
Krash exited the garden.
Tersada remained oblivious to the faint spark of contrarian rebellion igniting within him.