Strike It Rich (2)

Everyone present had no choice but to doubt their own eyes.

And no wonder — the rotten, long-dead tree had slowly begun to glow with a pale blue light.

Rillai, the knights, the servants — every one of them stood gaping in astonishment. No matter how many times they looked, the enormous tree at the entrance of the main estate was recovering its divine power before their very eyes.

"Th-that tree, how could it—!"

"Isn't that the tree that hasn't given off a single ray of light in seventy years, ever since the demonkin's attack?"

"The symbol of House Eshua…!"

The Shyster's expression went without saying. The knights whipped toward Rillai in a frenzy of excitement. Naturally, they assumed he had done it.

"You never let it show, my lord, but you were grieving because you couldn't revive it, weren't you? What on earth did you do?"

"No… this wasn't me, it was—"

Rillai's eyes went round as saucers as he looked at Isaac.

"…Could it be? Isaac?"

"I'm sorry, Master Isaac?"

The knights turned to Isaac as if they couldn't believe their ears.

"Don't tell me — after the exorcism, you performed a purification as well?"

Under the converging stares, Isaac simply flashed a smug little grin.

Good work, Whisper.

Reviving this scraggly old tree? Nothing to it. Of course, he hadn't used a priest's holy law like healing or purification.

That kind of thing wouldn't have brought it back at all.

He didn't know the details, but apparently there had once been a battle in this estate against a demon of Demon King rank.

Well, it is an exorcist house, after all.

The death-aura seeping from the demonkin corpses into the earth had infected the tree as well.

Presumably the household had been trying to purify it all this time — but that took ages, and with a Demon King-rank corpse involved, the odds of success were slim.

In a case like this, it was far faster for a fellow demonkin to simply suck the mana dry. Once that was dealt with, the sacred tree would gradually regain its regenerative powers on its own.

Well, I suppose only someone like me could pull this off.

Extracting the mana without so much as touching the sacred tree — did they really think any other bastard alive could manage that level of control?

And whether it was the reward for all that absorbed mana or not, the Shyster's pupils were trembling.

I came here to drive out that brat, and now he's gone and revived the tree the matriarch treasures most?

Yeah, right. There's no way.

Soon the crowd began to stir, and the Shyster's face grew even more ashen. For this to happen right in front of all the other servants, no less!

If this news reaches the others — no, if it reaches the matriarch — I'm done for.

Panicking, he rounded on Rillai at once.

"What a lovely little show. This is your doing, isn't it? You drew on the Saintess's power and staged it with that trash's help!"

"What did you just say?!"

The Shyster jabbed a finger at the pale-blue gem ornament clutched in Isaac's hand.

"That's where you stored the power, isn't it?"

"!"

What he was pointing at was the gem Rillai had pressed into Isaac's hand in place of the Emperor's gift.

Not that the gift of a lunatic uncle amounted to anything but junk—

"Handing over a White Flower Stone, one of only ten in the entire world. It's not as if you lack other nephews — did you really have to dote on the eldest brother's boy like that?"

"Have the decency to say it properly! You're just coveting the matriarch's gift, aren't you!"

Retraction: he is not a lunatic uncle.

Isaac's saucer-wide eyes snapped toward the gem.

And no wonder — that was a White Flower Stone!

One of the three legendary supreme minerals in the entire world! A stone of myth. Better still, it had effects that would make Isaac's eyes roll back in his head. Going by price alone, it was worth enough to buy out an entire noble house.

This ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is a hell of a lot more than a gold ring, isn't it?

Having upgraded the lunatic uncle to Lord Uncle, Isaac promptly popped the gem into his mouth and hid it.

Watching the Shyster flounder at the sight, Isaac smirked, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Though I'd really love to know what's crawled up this bastard's ass when it comes to his nephew…

He looks nothing like Rillai.

Rillai had silver hair, but that ill-mannered… well, sharp-eyed Shyster had brown hair. The only thing they had in common was a pair of blue eyes.

It didn't end there, either.

Upon closer inspection, Rillai — excessively knightly and upright as he was — actually resembled the Saintess Melissa in certain ways, but the Shyster bore no resemblance to her whatsoever.

If he resembled anyone, it was—

…the Pope?

Whisper, who had apparently finished analyzing something, chimed in.

Ah. So that's what it is.

As with any noble house, House Eshua was split into internal factions.

Rillai's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bloodline on one side, that Shyster's on the other.

But usually families only tore into each other like rabid dogs over something like the seat of the family head—

"You know perfectly well why I brought this child here — to push him as the Saint candidate! Don't you dare forget that the house already has one!"

Ah. Now I get it.

That Shyster is backing a different kid as his Saint candidate.

So a kid showing off power like mine is a thorn in his side. Yeah, that makes sense now—

"And besides, why does the youngest have to come in here throwing his weight around when everyone else is minding their own business?!"

"So what, we should just abandon a child of House Eshua's blood? This child is our nephew, the son of the eldest son of this family! He has every right to inherit!"

"The eldest son? Unbelievable."

…Or maybe this is just a dumpster-fire of a family.

"He ran off when the family was in danger, and the first news he sends back is that he's fathered that piece of trash?"

I don't know the details, but so that's why the kid's treated as a bastard.

"Watch your tongue. He never ran from anything, and this child is the son of the current Saintess."

"Right. This generation, the family brought in an outsider and raised her as the Saintess. Your sister-in-law is a Saintess, sure. Whether that makes her carrying my brother's blood, though, is anyone's guess."

And now this bastard is well and truly crossing the line.

Eh, I suppose it wouldn't matter to me as long as I get to swallow this body whole.

Come to think of it, this body's father — the young ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lord — had vanished. Naturally, that would raise the question of succession… so it was about the inheritance, after all?

They figure their turn at the ring will come around eventually, huh?

"Well, that brat does have a decent enough face for the Saintess's bloodline, so I suppose we can sell her off as another Eshua bride. Yes, that much at least should be of use to the family."

Kyaha, listen to that mouth. Slick little bastard, aren't you.

Sure enough, Rillai's fist — with Isaac's eyes shielded behind his palm — flew straight into his brother's face.

"Have you said quite enough?!"

"Kyaaah! Someone stop them, quickly!"

"Young Master! You mustn't! Hrk—!"

In the middle of that pandemonium, Isaac found himself gazing up at the blue sky once more.

Ah. Honestly, hauling this pack of idiots along to become Pope might actually be slower than just ripping the Pope's head off myself.

In the end, the Shyster's patience snapped, and he reached for the gem in Isaac's mouth.

"Once I get this out of the way—"

"!"

The instant the man's hand came at him, Isaac's eyes flashed wide.

Where does this bastard get off, eyeing what's MINE?!

Isaac drove his foot into Goel's solar plexus without mercy.

CRACK!

"Khaghk—!"

And he hadn't just kicked him, either.

<Reinforcement>.

The reinforcement spell that had knocked out his kidnappers burst to life. The faint trace of demonic mana had been deliberately cloaked beneath a surging wave of holy power.

And of course, there was one decisive method for cutting off the aura of mana altogether.

The Survival Origin art, <Erasure of Presence>.

It was the innate spell he had unlocked right after releasing Whisper. With it, even considerable amounts of mana could be hidden from sight.

Isaac proceeded to boot the Shyster across the floor, again and again.

CRACK! CRACK!

"KUAGH—!!"

"Brother!"

By the time the Shyster finally collapsed, clutching his chest, the knights were in shock.

"Young Master Goel!"

At the same time, the knights holding Isaac gaped at him in open disbelief.

"W-wait. Could this be… the martial art of the Saintesses?"

"You channeled holy power through your body and struck, didn't you?"

"Yes! It has to be!"

"So it really was Master Isaac who revived the tree!"

Goel ground his teeth.

Damn it — something about this is very, very wrong!

Word of Isaac's exploits was already spreading through the estate — and thanks to it, everyone in the household now seemed to know exactly who he was.

Well, I guess I've officially entered the family. Thanks a bunch.

"Dduwah (goddamn bastards)."

"Ddu-wa-ya-ya-ya (so that's why they're such a dumpster fire)."

Isaac was staring off into the distance, muttering curses under his breath.

The head of the family had summoned him, so the doomed priests had scrubbed him down and set him in the meeting chamber.

Not that getting washed was a bad thing, mind you.

Right — if I'm meeting the head of the house, I can hardly show up filthy.

The man was, for the time being, the highest authority in the family — a seat Isaac planned to devour for himself before long. For now, at least, he'd mind his manners and see what kind of bastard he was dealing with—

"Tch. A boy again."

"Ugh, another useless mouth and nothing more."

Yeah, my ass. "Family," was it?

Isaac bristled at the old men seated before him.

They said the head of the house had called for him — so why were a bunch of completely unrelated geezers sitting in front of his face?

"What good is bearing a son, pray tell?"

And on top of that, they were lecturing him out of nowhere for having been born a boy?

"The family deigned to accept a commoner as the Saintess, so she ought to do her duty. Another son — she's unfit for the mantle. Tut, tut."

You godforsaken — what the hell kind of hybrid abomination is this place?

Boys preferred or girls preferred, at least pick ONE, you senile relics.

Isaac's face twitched as he sized up the assembled company.

The ones taking an interest in him were the pillars who aided the head of House Eshua — the elders and the council of seniors, put simply.

For a house of Eshua's standing, of course, these were powerful posts. They assisted the head and steered the family, which meant their voices carried real weight.

In other words, useful bastards worth winning over to my side.

Well, there was just one problem—

"Rillai. The boy was to be raised in a branch house and released. Why did you let him set foot on the main family's lands?"

Unlike the elders and the seniors, there was one person who quite obviously despised him.

A woman with a remarkably forceful presence.

Right. Fair enough — a Saintess, like the Pope, is a public office and can't be bound privately to one family, so I understand the head of the house remarrying.

And the lady of the house standing in as regent makes sense too.

But this woman. She had the same look in her eyes as the Shyster — the look of someone who wanted him gone from the family. Chances were she was the very person who'd ordered him confined to the annex in the first place.

And perhaps thinking along the same lines, Rillai fixed a long, hard stare on the woman seated in the family head's chair.

"Your father is away, I see."

"He departed on business. The Saint candidate question has him running ragged, what with the noise from every direction."

At the same moment, the Shyster spat out his grievance like it burned.

"What. Does it offend you that our mother sits as the regent?"

No complaints here.

What I've got complaints about is that gutter-flavored mouth of yours.

Isaac snorted, but the Shyster showed no sign of shutting up.

"If it offends you so, run home to your mother and bawl your eyes out begging her for a daughter."

"You… dare…!"

"Have you forgotten that in House Eshua, only those who have produced a Saintess may open their mouths? If you're so desperate to speak, go out there and birth a daughter yourse— PUKH!!"

"Kyaa! Young Master! Your nose — it's bleeding!"

Unable even to finish his sentence, the Shyster clutched his face. Isaac, who had hurled the Golden Rattle straight at him, merely furrowed his brow.

Ah, damn. That one actually hurt, not gonna lie.

A Saintess? Look — it's really not my place to say this, but you couldn't even catch the Skeleton Demon King… and that was ME! Huh?!

But whether the hit had simply pissed him off, the Shyster snatched Isaac up at once.

"Where does this damned piece of trash get off—! PUKH!!"

Isaac hocked a fat, glorious wad of spit right into his uncle's face.

The Shyster, now thoroughly slimed, looked utterly repulsed — but so what?

What, you gonna hit an infant?

Go ahead. Hit me, you moron.

Do it, and I'll give you another one for free, you son of a bitch.

"…Damn it all!"

In the end, he couldn't bring himself to strike, and merely trembled with rage.

Watching the man, Isaac could guess he'd been brought here to lean on the elders' authority. The general shape of the family's situation was becoming clear, too.

Thank the gods I wasn't born into the Saintess's line. Being a boy here means being a useless sack of chaff.

It was a simple equation.

This was a family that produced Saintesses — so girls were precious.

Precious to the point that whoever birthed one saw her standing soar.

More to the point, the Saintess's unique combat gifts had never manifested in the male line. Under those conditions, boys were bound to be treated as worthless.

Normally, that is.

"The whole estate is buzzing about the sacred tree coming back to life. I had you summoned to establish exactly whose handiwork it was before reporting to the matriarch."

"I can't imagine it, but… surely not that child?"

"!"

At the seniors' sudden interest, the second wife's brow drew tight.

The elders sided with Goel and with her — but the seniors were another matter entirely. If those seniors took the child's side, it would become a real headache. And above all, they were close to the head of the house.

So she smiled sweetly and said,

"How could a nursing infant possibly revive it? It was coincidence, naturally. The prayers House Eshua has offered all this while simply bore fruit at the right moment."

"Madam."

The elders on Goel's side nodded along.

"Quite. Even the matriarch herself was racking her brain for a direct solution to that tree. How would that child have managed it?"

"I disagree. There are witnesses, aren't there? It ought to be investigated thoroughly. If a nursing infant truly did it, that would be no ordinary talent."

At the senior's words, the second wife — the very woman who wanted Isaac shipped off to a branch house — gave a light laugh.

"Well. I hardly think a boy of House Eshua would have managed such a thing."

"Quite right. There's no proof, is there."

At that reaction, Isaac — of all things — flashed a slow, wide grin.

Proof, are we discussing? Proof?

Ah, you bastards. I wasn't planning on going this far, but you just keep poking a skeleton that's minding its own business.

Now then — eyes front, you sons of bitches. Watch closely.

At the same moment, Isaac spread his hand open.

Everyone who saw it flinched back in shock.