Chapter 22
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: It Won't Even Take One Second
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"Well? Any response?"
"Still just repeating the same answer."
"Damn it."
The Pope let out a heavy sigh.
"I figured she wouldn't listen,"
he said,
"but I didn't expect her to be this stubborn."
Everyone wore grim expressions.
There was no need to explain the uproar in the Holy Kingdom after Prince Theodor became a saint.
"If only we could win with sheer force..."
One cardinal sighed, and the others nodded in agreement.
War was out of the question.
Setting aside the moral issues, they simply couldn't win.
No path to victory existed in any comparison of military strength.
Especially against Empress Milla Castina.
No one could see a way to defeat that monster of a woman.
Still, clinging to a faint, futile hope, the Pope opened his mouth, then glanced at the cardinal.
"Did you ask the Knight Commander?"
"Yes. He said that if he and Your Holiness teamed up, they could hold out for about three minutes."
"And after that?"
"...Ahem."
"No need to say more."
Milla Castina—the strongest human alive—could overwhelm the Holy Kingdom's two greatest powers even when they fought together, lasting only three minutes.
The mere fact that they could endure three minutes against her meant they were stronger than most.
The Pope pressed his temples firmly.
"Public opinion isn't swaying either..."
That was the biggest problem.
"Healing people for free from the start? That's not God's will."
Then, a nearby cardinal raised his voice.
"The Lord commanded us to use holy power rationally. So we merely receive fair compensation in return. Yet Prince Theodor ignores God's will and—"
"Shut up."
The Pope silenced the cardinal and sank into thought.
At some point, the Holy Kingdom's primary revenue stream had become grotesquely distorted.
A system built on selling holy power and healing, blessings and prayers for coin.
People always seek easier ways to make money.
What began as free charity treatments gradually started demanding payment, and the fees kept rising.
The Pope let out a small sigh.
"Anyway. War's impossible, and public opinion won't budge."
"...Yes."
"Have you contacted Saintess Isfil?"
"No response. We used the secret method known only to cardinals and the saintess, but still nothing. She must be detained."
The cardinal muttered indignantly.
"..."
The Pope thought of the saintess.
Saintess Isfil.
After her baptism, she had tirelessly visited relief centers.
"I wonder why Saintess Isfil handed over her position."
The Pope closed his eyes.
"Probably because she's entangled with that wicked empire."
A cardinal answered his question in a matter-of-fact tone,
and the Pope murmured,
"...I'm not so sure about that."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing."
The Pope pressed his eyelids with his index finger.
He was starting to want to retire.
"Whoever takes down Milla Castina would have my eternal gratitude."
"No such person exists."
*
"Hup...!"
I swung the wooden sword swiftly,
and with a sharp clack, the wooden blades clashed.
Mother's sword flew from her grip,
and she let out a yelp as she collapsed.
"Aigoo, Mommy lost!"
"...Mom, I barely swung once."
"That's because you're so strong, Theo."
"..."
"It's true. Mommy's never lost to anyone."
"Really?"
"Of course. Even the black dragon cried like a newborn baby in front of Mommy."
"..."
Why not just say you killed a god and saved the world?
Mother got up, dusting off her clothes.
Anyone could see it wasn't a real spar.
"Fight me a little more seriously, Mom."
"Mommy's always serious around her lovely boy."
"Don't hold back."
"When Mommy sees you, her legs go weak and she can't stop smiling—that's why she loses."
I had nothing to say to that.
"Then fight me, Mom!"
My sister Ravire, who had been standing quietly, charged at Mother with her sword,
and Mother swung lightly.
"Hyah."
"Kyaaack!"
Ravire went flying through the air.
"You're too strong!"
"Come at me with killing intent."
Mother smiled at Ravire's complaint,
and Ravire growled,
"Eek!"
"Too slow."
"Kyaaack!"
As Ravire tumbled across the ground again from Mother's sword, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see Isfil.
"...Another message."
"Again?"
"Yeah."
"What'd it say?"
"They say they'll save me if I just beg for help."
Isfil looked at me anxiously.
"It'll be okay, right, Theo?"
"Don't worry."
Isfil couldn't explain it fully, but high-ranking cardinals and the saintess had a way to communicate privately.
I figured it was like telepathy.
"You didn't reply, did you?"
"N-not really, but should I?"
"No. Don't."
They already knew what answer they wanted anyway.
Even if she truly gave up her saintess position, they'd call it coercion. Whatever she did, the only responses they'd accept were "Save me" or "I want to return to the Holy Kingdom."
But this was the expected outcome.
In the five stages of grief, denial—stages one and two—produced the strongest backlash.
Once those passed, things could be resolved somehow.
With that thought, I turned my gaze forward.
"Clue."
"Master, as you said, during your second visit this week, some people just showed their faces and left."
Clue responded calmly to my words.
"It looks like they're preparing in advance, but..."
"Certain?"
"Based on your judgment, yes."
"...You sure it'll be okay, Theo?"
Isfil whispered anxiously after hearing Clue, her face full of worry.
"What if you get hurt or something big happens..."
"It's fine. Clue will protect me."
I whispered back so Mother and Ravire wouldn't hear.
Things would blow up if they knew.
Isfil and Clue would go along if I insisted, but those two—no, including Lily, all three—wouldn't listen to me.
They'd just stare wide-eyed and tie me to the bed.
"Letting yourself get attacked on purpose, Theo..."
Isfil muttered uneasily, and Clue gripped my hand with the same worried look.
"Master..."
"You can memorize all their faces, right?"
"Of course. I'm a homunculus."
"You can block a dagger attack?"
"Of course."
"See?"
"Master, even for me..."
"No confidence?"
"...Not that. But if you keep pushing with sheer pride like this since last time..."
"Anyway, so it'll be fine, right?"
"..."
The plan was simple.
"People never unite perfectly."
If the Holy Kingdom started stirring up discontent through media manipulation, some would blindly believe them, of course.
"They hate me."
Hate me so much they can't think straight.
The world doesn't run on reason alone.
The world I came from was the same.
Despite mountains of evidence that the Earth is round, people shouted about flat Earth theories, or claimed ancient Atlantis had giant robots firing laser beams. The world never turns on a single idea.
Not even if it's common sense everyone accepts.
Especially not on a heated religious issue like this.
No need to overthink it.
"Their weapon will probably be daggers, right?"
"Likely."
They would attack me.
After making some half-baked plan.
They'd think it was perfect, but...
If they truly thought it was perfect, they wouldn't even attempt it.
"Let's go."
I stood up.
"Heading out now, Theo?"
Mother, who had been watching Ravire sprawled on the ground, spoke up. I nodded.
"Yeah, I'll be back."
"...Sorry, I'd go, but things are busy right now..."
"It's fine. The Knight Commander and Tower Lord are coming along."
Honestly, Clue alone was enough, but what could I do?
With that, I started walking.
Destination: the relief center.
Time to settle this.
"By the way, don't worry—they both vowed to commit seppuku if they fail to protect you."
"...Please don't."
I didn't know where the failure line was, but it scared me.
*
"..."
Five men and women stared at each other with grim resolve.
"Preparations are perfect."
The man gripping a dagger spoke, and the others nodded.
"Three of us draw attention, and we two strike Prince Theodor in the gap."
"...Putting the hard part on you."
"Yes. Escape will be tough."
The dagger-wielding man nodded solemnly.
"I don't mind dying before my time. It's God's will."
He murmured, gazing ahead.
Devout Holy Kingdom supporters.
The Holy Kingdom said Prince Theodor was a false saint, so it must be true.
Slaying that false saint was their noble goal and mission.
Time to restore glory to the Holy Kingdom.
Prince Theodor emerged and began healing people.
With each surge of holy power into the sick, miracles unfolded.
The patients shed tears of joy, and Prince Theodor watched with a gentle smile.
It was utterly revolting.
"Filth masquerading as a saint in God's name."
The man muttered, tucking the dagger into his bosom.
"Right. Let's go."
"...We won't forget your sacrifice."
With that, the man stepped forward, the other four following.
The plan was flawless.
So he thought as he joined the line.
The queue shrank, and after a long wait, Prince Theodor came into view.
Smiling as he treated others.
Then, he stood before the prince.
"Where does it hurt?"
The prince smiled at him, their eyes met,
and he said,
"Ah... here. Around my heart..."
He slowly pushed out his chest.
Strike at the closest range.
Expose himself and kill the prince.
The black-haired girl nearby was a concern, but shoving aside a child and stabbing was easy.
"Ah, one moment."
The prince reached out, his hand touching the heart.
At that instant,
"Waaah!"
The four behind surged, hastily surrounding the prince and others.
Three seconds—no, one second.
That would do it.
Magic rained from afar, the body shielding him split in half, knights leaped in.
Lightning-fast response the moment they surrounded him.
But he only needed one second.
Even if he died, that second was enough.
With that thought, he swung his hand at Theodor.
Or tried to.
But...
"...Huh?"
He realized his hand was already gone.
He looked at Theodor.
How?
No, not Theodor.
The black-haired girl beside him.
Before he could register her holding his severed hand,
-Slash!
His head flew through the air.
It all happened in less than a second. Precisely.