Pitch-Black Beyond All Answers (1)

"What? His faith was perfectly fine?"

The Sephet Estate.

Cardinal Rion Sepet, head of the Red Faith, sat face to face with his brother Neon Sephet, the Vice Head. Neon stared at the inquisitor before him, eyes gone round with disbelief.

"You're telling me Isaac Eshua's faith measured perfectly sound?"

"Yes… sound doesn't begin to cover it. The Goddess of Judgment shed tears of blood."

"……!"

Tears of blood? Wasn't that the very definition of supreme faith?

'That is a transcendent, sacred state—one that hints at a person destined to become the greatest of their era.'

In truth, there had been a very real reason the head of the Red Faith set his sights on Isaac's faith this time around.

Why, you ask?

'Because of the God of Penal Law's orders.'

During the Red Pentagon, hadn't Isaac smashed the statue of the God of Penal Law to pieces? The Red Faith had, after all, failed to stop him, and they had to answer for it.

As a consequence of his punishment, one of the blessings the god had granted House Sephet was forcibly reclaimed.

It was a fairly minor blessing, but the heart still stung. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It would have been too galling to simply let it end there, so they had petitioned to learn the identity of the one responsible.

And the god had sent back a reply in writing.

At a glance, it sounded like an offer to grant a reward—but the Red Faith, if anything, disliked it.

Why, you ask?

A blessing, of all things!

Of course, they knew perfectly well that "blessing" was a euphemism for correction.

Naturally so—the Red Faith was the faith of repentance. As always, their god intended to bring down the whip first and then offer the carrot.

'And he's being all the more keen because the boy is young, I suppose.'

That said, the Red Faith regarded children as nothing more than incomplete beings, so they didn't dote on the young the way some pushover faith of the Blue did.

But a child could be corrected far more easily, and that in itself became a demonstration of the Red God's power.

In fact, it was one of their favorite methods when poaching believers from other faiths.

Except—

Wasn't Isaac Eshua a man of the Blue?

And they wanted to hand him a blessing? The sheer nerve of it!

'I wouldn't spare a single crumb of blessing for him. And anyway, the God of Penal Law is a high god of Chief God rank. He would never dream of sending a man of the Blue up to our Chief God. Utter extravagance.'

He was a precious deity whom only the direct bloodline of House Sephet could form contracts with, no less.

So the plan had been to test the boy's faith, declare him not a candidate for correction but a candidate for execution—

'And then he wept tears of blood.'

"So we've effectively certified him ourselves as the finest among all the Saint candidates! Do you realize that?!"

Thus did Vice Head Neon rage at Nizer, who stood before them like a man guilty of some terrible crime.

"And on top of that, you had the audacity to demand a re-examination?! Have you made up your mind to be openly mocked by the priests of the Red Faith? Is that it?"

"Well, I…."

"Silence. You were supposed to become head of this house in place of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eldest and second sons you devoured, and you can't even manage one little task properly! Do you not understand that the only way you survive is if you become Pope?"

Nizer squeezed his eyes shut.

Neon in particular already had his hands more than full with the family's affairs.

Territorial disputes, business ventures, troubles among the vassal houses, congregations borrowing the Red Faith's name across the land, and an unending flood of requests pouring in from every corner of the continent besides.

Coordinating all of it required him to be operating at his absolute peak just to keep his head above water—and now the Blue Faith was riding high on momentum?

"Only if you become Saint—no, Pope—can the Red Faith speak of unifying the whole world under heaven!"

"That's enough."

At the head of the house's word, Neon fell silent.

"Truly a nuisance. The medallion we could have used to verify his faith is gone, too."

Rion had never trusted statue-based judgments to begin with. History could count on one hand the people capable of drawing tears of blood from a statue of judgment.

Even setting that aside, such a feat would never, ever come from someone genuinely corrupt. Some smudge of impurity would have shown through in one form or another.

If only the medallion they had lent Isaac still existed, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he could have used his authority as Cardinal to ship the boy straight off to a slave labor camp. But no—the thing had to go and get smashed to rubble.

'Hot-blooded little brat.'

At any rate, thanks to that Blue head of house, whatever faith had remained in the medallion was beyond verifying. The Blue head's behavior gnawed at him, but there was no proof of anything.

Rion continued.

"This whole affair was entertainment anyway. It's not as though there's no other way."

"!"

"And the same goes for the Sacrificial Offering Festival. The messengers of the gods themselves will descend—if the boy is flawed, he'll be exposed on the spot. So behave yourself until then."

It was, in effect, a warning: 'You will shut your mouth from here on.' All Nizer could do was grind his teeth.

'No. I saw it with my own eyes.'

It had been for only an instant, but the statue had undeniably opened its eyes!

'If it's come to this, then I have no choice.'

Nizer's eyes glinted.

"Father. Has the participant list for the Sacrificial Offering Festival been finalized?"

"It has. The list is mostly Blue teams, and Isaac Eshua is among them. And since you took first place in the Black Pentagon tournament earlier, I'll see your name is added as wel—"

"No. Put me down as Isaac's attendant."

…What?

Vice Head Neon wore an expression that plainly asked what load of nonsense is this?, but Nizer was resolute.

"Those on the list are assigned a personal attendant for the sake of proper protocol, are they not? Register me as Isaac's attendant!"

An angry outburst was, of course, inevitable.

"Nizer! Are you in your right mind? Why would someone like you stoop to such a lowly, dishonorable post!"

Did the boy think the position of a festival attendant came with prestige and glory? "Protocol" was a pretty word for it—the role amounted to a maid's work: seeing to the master's trivial errands, dressing and bathing him, and handling every last filthy chore.

"Do you not know it's a menial post meant for the lower classes? The heir of a ducal house doing such base work? You'll be nothing but a laughingstock!"

Even under Neon's thundering voice, Nizer did not yield.

'If there's no evidence, then I'll simply have to seize the evidence myself.'

In other words, he intended to attach himself directly to Isaac, surveil him around the clock, and drag him into a trap—whatever it took to manufacture proof.

But.

"That won't be possible."

"Father!"

At the head of house's stern rebuke, Nizer stepped forward, looking wronged.

"Is it because the attendant's post is dishonorable? Even if I take the position, I'll perform admir—"

"No. It's because someone has already claimed it."

…Pardon?

"Kina has taken that post."

Nizer nodded along at last, seemingly satisfied.

"Ah, of course. Kina Berith went to serve as Isaac's attendant, so—"

Nizer froze.

…Pardon? What did you just say?

The Blue Estate.

A strange current was flowing through the capital residence, and the cause was none other than the head of House Eshua himself.

'What on earth has gotten into him?'

There was nothing wrong with the Patriarch shutting himself away in his office—what was wrong was the face he wore while doing it. Someone had clearly offended the Patriarch's sensibilities, because pure killing intent was seeping out from under the door. The man had ice crystals forming inside his office, for goodness' sake!

In the end, his despairing sons had no choice but to intervene.

"Father, what's the matter? Why has your mood been so foul for days now—ever since you saw Isaac—"

"Why do you like what's yours, and hate what's mine?"

………Pardon?

…Come again?

Rillai froze for a moment—then, catching sight of what the Patriarch Eli was actually glaring at, his jaw dropped.

The object of the Patriarch's murderous stare was none other than a 'Skeleton Demon King Execution Edition — Diamond' doll.

It was the doll he had bought for Isaac, pretending it was candy. One look at it, and Rillai seemed to grasp the reason immediately, going white as a sheet.

'Isaac! Don't tell me you didn't accept Grandfather's gift!'

In truth, Rillai had also gone out and bought a doll together with the Patriarch. And his gift had been accepted just fine—hadn't it?

Sure enough, as Eli looked at Rillai, his mood curdled further, and he drummed his fingers against the desk in a staccato rhythm.

"Why is it that the 'jewel' you bought gets received so nicely, but the Skeleton Demon King Execution Edition I bought gets refused? Mine was far more expensive. Far finer."

Could it be that he simply didn't realize the Skeleton Demon King himself was the problem?

But Rillai, of course, could know nothing of that, and merely squeezed his eyes shut.

"Father, I… I apologize."

He had no idea what he was apologizing for, but apologize he must.

"Regarding that matter, I could have a word with Isaac and—"

"No. That's not what matters. Isaac is Black."

…Pardon?

What on earth could possibly be Black—?

The meaning finally sank in, and the faces of Rillai and the second son Benjamin went rigid.

"You don't mean… the medallion of the Red Cardinal that was destroyed? That faith-reading device—it showed black?"

"It did. The rose came out pitch-black."

"But the statue shed tears of blood…!"

He meant to say the examination must simply have been faulty, but for some reason the Patriarch's mood only blackened further.

"That's exactly why I had the faith test run again afterward. To be certain, I stole a faith-discriminator out of the Red Faith's treasure vault."

Benjamin, the estate's steward, felt his pupils tremble.

'Stole… you stole it? The Blue Faith?'

Unlike his brother, who had gone completely hollow-eyed, Rillai hurried to ask.

"If it came from the treasure vault, it must be an artifact used for major imperial state affairs—the results should be beyond question. What did the test show? A pale color? Or something a bit darker? Naturally, after tears of blood, I'd expect excellent results, but—"

"…It was Black."

"…Pardon?"

"So black there was no answer at all……."

Everyone listening spiraled into free fall.

What the Patriarch was describing was, unmistakably, an artifact that let the subject press their lips to a teacup so the faith could be read from the color of the liquid remaining.

Ordinarily it was used with black tea—the deeper the faith, the deeper the steeping. The drink would darken, little by little, in proportion to devotion.

And it had come out Black!

'Is that even possible?'

Rillai was more than entitled to his doubt.

"Then what in the world was that blood the statue wept?! There's no way a reading like that could come out wrong—"

"You recall that Isaac met with Melissa recently, don't you? That may be the cause."

"Ah……."

The sons understood at once.

If there was one famous figure capable of drawing tears of blood from a statue of judgment, it was none other than their mother.

By that point, they finally grasped why their father's face was so grave.

"The question is no longer whether he'll summon an evil god. The boy is well on his way to becoming one."

'GAK—!'

At the same moment, they all turned desperate.

"Then isn't this an emergency right now? The top finishers of the Pentagon are supposed to summon a god at the Sacrificial Offering Festival, at the execution ceremony!"

"The Red Cardinal will be lying in wait for exactly that!"

If Isaac summoned so much as one evil god, that would be unmistakable, undeniable proof of corruption.

"No. I blocked that already."

"!"

The Patriarch had attended the Holy See's council meeting and flat-out rewrote the rules of the Sacrificial Offering Festival.

And so the crisis of Isaac's faith being laid bare before all the world had barely been averted—and then what happened?

Who could have guessed the Black Cardinal would pull that move!

You…! You cursed Black faction rat!

Too arrogant to even attend the meeting in person, and yet you go and wreck someone else's plan? And you leave something that important behind as a written note before waltzing off?!

'After Isaac had so carefully been prevented from summoning a god—of all things, that becomes the graded assignment?'

Granted, the moment the Patriarch heard the announcement, he'd tried to abduct Isaac straight back home. Surely that beat being exposed and executed!

But then!

That cursed Black faction had gone and set the reward at something obscenely good. And Isaac's eyes had spun with greed, and—

"I'll do it!"

—the little brat had declared on the spot that he was participating.

Hearing this recounted, Rillai clutched the back of his neck.

"…Isaac doesn't know his own faith, does he?"

"When something is dangerous, you should have told him in advance. Why did no one inform him about his faith?"

At that, Eli laced his fingers together, his eyes flashing like a tiger's.

"And what if we tell him, and he goes and falls for real!"

"………."

"In any case… have Shuri take the attendant's post at Isaac's side. Nothing should go wrong during Part One, the execution ceremony. What matters is Part Two. Make sure he cannot summon a god. And Isaac must never, under any circumstances, learn about his faith. From this moment on, this is no longer one boy's problem—it is a matter of every life in House Eshua."

Rillai nodded, letting out a long sigh.

"Understood. Shuri will have grasped the gravity of the situation by now as well. I'll make absolutely certain it stays secret from Isaac."

And so they began to move in secret, determined to keep Isaac from summoning a god.

Except—

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

'Did you not see what the Black Pentagon prize was? You have to take first place.'

Yes… that was the plan. That was the plan.

'What in the actual hell is this situation.'

The day of the Sacrificial Offering Festival.

The apprentices gathered before the execution platform were all glancing toward one particular spot, murmuring restlessly among themselves.

They could hardly help it.

"Hey! Did you not hear what I said?!"

"Which part?"

The Pope's grandson and… the heir of the Red Faith were fighting. With Isaac squared squarely between them.

Which is to say…

"This boy's attendant is me!!"

"No? It's me, damn it! I already registered!"

"I finished my registration first, actually."

Each of them, insisting that he would be Isaac's personal attendant…

Watching the pair of them, Shuri's eyes glazed over completely.

'O Lord… what in the world is happening now……?'

Meanwhile, Isaac, observing the whole spectacle, was busy deliberating whether or not to pull out his rattle.