The Fake Saint's Premature Arrival
Ayran wasn't supposed to show up yet. He'd arrived years ahead of the original story, but since other events had shifted too, I let that slide. The real problem was that something even bigger was supposed to happen before him.
In a way, it was more important than the fake saint fiasco—and we'd skipped it entirely! Was it just that I'd twisted the original events, shuffling the order? Or had it been erased altogether?
...Well, the "Successor Dispute" couldn't really happen with Ares alive and well like this. Even that bastard who claimed to be the true heir would have a hard time showing his face.
"Lord Seres?"
Lost in thought for a moment, I heard the other side speak first. Long brown hair, slender build, pretty features. He was a man with looks that could rival any woman's. I'd never seen him before, but I was certain it was Ayran. His gender was swapped, but he matched the novel's description to a T.
"A pleasure to meet you. I'm Ayran Aisdi, Lord Seres Huferion."
Spot on. I returned his polite bow with one of my own.
"So you're Ayran. Nice to meet you."
I greeted him with a smile first.
"But 'Aisdi' is a fake name I've never heard before, is it?"
Pointing out what would irk him most, his innocent smile froze solid.
"...That figures. It's not a famous house."
"Where exactly are they from, and what do they do?"
"No need for someone like you to know, Lord Seres."
"No, I insist. It would be rude not to ask about the family of a guest in my home."
As I pressed relentlessly, I clearly heard it. Ayran grinding his teeth.
"A baron's house with a tiny fief in the countryside. Nothing worth mentioning, so of course you haven't heard."
"'Nothing'? Don't sell your family short. I may not know much, but I bet they're important out there in the sticks."
"...Thank you for the kind words."
I could see Ayran's body trembling slightly. Getting mad? Good. That's the point, you arrogant, status-obsessed prick!
I knew from the original story that Ayran had a massive complex about his humble origins. That's why he hated Seres, who was born into high nobility, even more. I'd poked at his status on purpose to rile him up, and damn, it was working better than expected.
"I'm Hairel, Lord Seres."
As Ayran floundered, unable to respond properly, another stepped forward. Hairel. Another villain from the original—one who schemed from the shadows for power, never confronting Seres directly but aiding Ayran's frame-ups to profit off him. A total piece of trash.
Naturally, my gaze on Hairel wasn't friendly. Ignoring that she was a woman now, I barely restrained the urge to slap her and forced a reply.
"High Priestess Hairel! I've heard so much. They say you're merciful and surprisingly fun for a high priestess."
"Haha, you're too kind. When it comes to holy power, Hames over there outshines me, so this ill-fitting title just embarrasses me."
What bullshit. I already knew she was mad for the papacy. That fake humility wouldn't fool me! Swallowing the urge to curse her out, I pretended to buy her act.
"Heh, the rumors were true—you're humble too. But why have you two come to see me?"
"We've heard rumors you're a saint, so we came to confirm."
I knew exactly what they were up to but played dumb. Hairel started with flattery, then dropped an absurd proposal.
"What do you say? Join us in purging the undead."
"Undead purge?"
"Yes. Our temple periodically purifies them, sending them back where they belong. We're using that as your test."
She explained that if I took down hordes with my power, I'd be recognized as a saint. Prove it in real combat if you want validation—utter nonsense.
"What the hell kind of ridiculous talk is this?!"
Ares exploded immediately.
"Seres is the only son of the Huferion count family. Taking him on an undead purge? Cut the insane crap!"
Exactly. And originally, I was a sickly invalid. With the son turned daughter, it recreated the original scene perfectly. The naive original Seres had been shocked and refused, which was exactly their goal.
"Hairel, what is this? I've never heard of such a thing!"
"Sorry, Hames. This is the test method I decided on with the others."
Hairel shrugged helplessly at the stunned Hames.
"I know it's extreme, but nothing beats visible results."
She added that I could back out if it was too much—not for my sake, but hoping I'd chicken out like the original Seres. So,
"An undead purge? Sounds fun! Count me in."
I accepted without falling into their trap. Everyone's eyes went wide at my cheerful response. Hairel and Ayran, who'd expected refusal. Even Ares and Hames.
"What?!"
"You serious?"
"Dead serious," I told the flustered pair.
Ares's face twisted.
"It's too dangerous!"
"I know it's risky, but if I bail without even trying, bad rumors will spread."
"Rumors from this nonsense? They're nothing. If you want, I'll crush them all—no harm to you."
Maybe. This was small potatoes. Unlike the original, I'd already built a reputation. But these little things piled up, making it easier to paint Seres as a fake saint later. I wanted to prepare for any contingency.
"I've made up my mind."
"...I see."
I'd spoken to Ares, but Hames answered.
"If you've decided, don't worry—just follow. I'll protect you no matter what."
I'd thought this before, but why did she always back my reckless stunts? No idea what was going through her head—it was weird, but I appreciated it. Hames seemed reliable, but
"Hames, why are you deciding for him on your own? And even as a high priestess, you're just a non-combat priest—what do you mean 'protect'?"
Ares raged.
"If Seres insists on going, I'll arrange escorts!"
"Is that necessary? Hames is a high priestess, and the other temple folks are coming too. No need for extra guards...."
"Why not? We have 200 knights in our territory!"
"You're not sending all 200, right?"
"If needed."
She wouldn't send 200 knights even if she birthed Viol's kid! Why does a single county even have 200 knights? Absurd. I stubbornly refused,
but
"Then I'll go with you."
A Sword Master countess became my escort instead of 200 knights.
There is a place called the Land of Death. A hotspot for undead, periodically cleansed by the temple. We'd split into two groups for the test here. Hairel claimed it was for efficiency, but it was a ploy to pit me against Ayran.
Ayran and I each headed to our zones, splitting his priests evenly. They were guards, monitors, and judges to compare our performances. So I had to outdo him in front of them.
And I was confident... until
"Huh, why isn't it working?"
I unleashed divine power at a shambling skeleton right in front of me, but nothing. This lowly low-tier undead shrugged off my divine power and just... ran away!
I tried on others—same result. As no undead fell, the priests started murmuring.
"What? He hasn't taken down a single one?"
"Can't even handle low-tiers."
"The guy who saved a nation acts like this?"
"Is that even holy power?"
Stung by their suspicion,
"Shut it."
Ares silenced them all with a glare.
"Seres, are you unwell? If so, we turn back now...."
"No, I'm fine."
I gave an awkward reply to Ares, who'd insisted on escorting me alone. She'd badgered me into letting her come. She'd asked if I was sure the whole way, and now my power failing had her even more worried.
"Really, no issues—don't worry."
Reassuring her, I puzzled over it myself. Why were the undead fine? My divine power definitely worked on demonic beings. It was in the original, and I'd repelled Red with it. Even a demon like Red, who could clash head-on with a Sword Master, would've melted. By my logic, any undead touched by it should dissolve—yet they didn't.
"It's because you pity them."
Hames spoke up out of nowhere as I pondered.
"Your sympathy is nullifying the effect."
"Me?"
"If not, what is it?"
"...Maybe a little."
Corpses shambling around were pitiful, treated like filth and culled.
"But pity making my power zero effective?"
"Holy power, mana—any force needs clear intent to harm, or it won't work right."
"Happened to you?"
"Not me, but others. Especially you. Your power transcends holy limits, healing the wicked if you will it."
"...What do you mean?"
"Nothing. Just that you're special."
Hames, sounding like she knew something, suddenly backpedaled.
"Anyway, without hostility, you'll just annoy them at best."
"So I need to intend to destroy them?"
Like with Red? Seemed plausible. I recalled that feeling. Pure malice, blasting divine power to purge undead.
That was when
"Help!"
One of the priests with Ayran came running, yelling,
"It's aura! A Master-class Death Knight using aura has appeared!"