Struck Gold (3)
A chorus of incredulous gasps erupted from every corner of the room.
Rillai was, without question, one of the rarest geniuses House Eshua had ever produced among its sons. Even granting that he had a discerning eye—the Pope, of all things?
But unlike the second wife, who wore her displeasure openly, the elders' eyes were gleaming.
"The Skeleton Demon King…?" As Isaac spread open his little palm, a magic stone materialized above it.
"This is…!"
"The aura of the Sacred Tree…!"
Isaac flashed a sly grin. It was mana drawn from the Sacred Tree, condensed into solid form. The elders seemed to grasp its true nature at once.
"So that's how the Sacred Tree came back to life!"
"Don't tell me this child drove out the miasma that had seeped into the tree—himself?"
"Indeed, an exorcism like that could revive it, but it's no easy feat. One misstep and you'd cut off the tree's very breath. No wonder the head of the house chose to play it safe with purification."
"Oh, but for a child this young to…"
"Does he have a natural gift for exorcism?"
The moment the elders showed this rare flicker of interest, Goel shot back at once.
"That child carries the White Flower Stone! He's deceiving you—passing off the Saintess's power stored inside it as his own doing!"
"Young Master Goel!"
"Look at his vulgar little antics! He doesn't resemble my elder brother in the slightest—he probably isn't even Eshua blood at all! Who knows whose beggar's seed he is? Honestly, even the annex is wasted on him! Throw him out right now, just as we agreed from the start!"
Isaac cracked his neck.
Ah, that little bastard. Before I go hunting for my body, I'd better deal with that cracked crock's mouth first.
But just then—as if Isaac wouldn't even need to lift a finger—Rillai smiled.
"Yes, the annex truly is wasted on him."
"!"
"Because he possesses talent that cannot even be compared to Elder Brother Goel's."
"What on earth are you saying?"
The cracked crock's eyes bulged, but Rillai declared with perfect confidence:
"The White Flower Stone holds no power whatsoever. No—in the first place, we couldn't solve this ourselves. Would infusing it with our power have accomplished anything?"
"…Then…!"
At that reaction, Rillai swept Isaac up into his arms. Held high in the air like a lion cub beneath all those converging stares, Isaac smirked.
That's it! Well done! The old fogies' expressions have completely changed!
"Please listen, everyone! This child is destined to become the Saint!"
That's right! A little more!
Just a bit further, so this news reaches the head of the house!
"And that is not all. He could, without question, become Pope one day!"
Excellent! That's it! Yes, keep going!
"No—he is the child who will kill the Skeleton Demon King!"
Whoa, hold on there, Uncle.
Leave out that last part.
Once again, incredulous gasps burst out from all around.
Rillai was unquestionably a rare genius among the men of House Eshua. Even granting his discerning eye—the Pope, really?
Goel laughed hollowly, convinced his brother was simply straining too hard.
The elders were the head of the house's right hand—loyal retainers whom generations of house heads had trusted above all others. Did Rillai really think they wouldn't see through his scheme to sway the succession?
"He's trying to borrow the elders' influence, I see. But he's just a boy. They are hardly the sort to be swayed by something like that—"
Yet the elders' eyes gleamed.
"The Skeleton Demon King…?"
"You mean he can kill that bastard—the one a thousand of whom wouldn't be enough to chew and swallow?"
"!"
At the mere mention of the Skeleton Demon King's name, the elders' gazes transformed. A murderous gleam flared up in an instant, as if asking where all that smoke had been hiding until now, and the infant Isaac momentarily choked on his own breath.
Well, they were a warrior house. These were old-timers who would all charge back onto the frontlines the moment a monster-hunting subjugation force was assembled.
The only problem was that the "monster" in question happened to be himself.
If they find out, I'll be disassembled and put on display across the whole continent.
Whisper, being a demon, went into a frenzy at the surging holy power of the old men.
Settle down. You're still only 1st Tier.
One thing, at least, was crystal clear: their resolve to destroy the Skeleton Demon King was utterly, irreversibly genuine.
"That fiend…! Grinding him into joint supplements wouldn't even be enough!"
Well, at least I'd get ground up instead.
And this, on top of the fact that Melissa was still alive, no less. Honestly, with hostility this raw, weren't some of these men the very ones who had fought him face-to-face in the old days?
But the killing intent did not last long.
"My lords."
"Ah."
At the second wife's frosty voice, the elders cleared their throats and coughed sheepishly, glancing about. Embarrassingly enough, they had briefly lost their composure at the Skeleton Demon King's name.
"Ahem. Rillai. We trust you—but compared to the Sacred Tree, the Skeleton Demon King is on an entirely different plane. Is the boy truly that remarkable?"
"Yes. A child who can tear the Skeleton Demon King apart and destroy his very soul."
When the elders' eyes turned monstrous yet again, the second wife arched a brow as if to say that was quite enough stirring.
"Rillai."
"I am certain this child will become the next Pope."
At those words, the hall erupted in an instant.
Well, fair enough. In the Holy Empire, the Pope was the king. And with the Papal House—the de facto royal dynasty—standing proud and unashamed, the pro-Pope faction would spit and scream treason at such talk.
Sure enough, the cracked crock raised his voice.
"The Pope is an entirely different matter! It is the supreme seat, one that only those blessed with the finest bloodline, legitimacy, and power—everything—may ascend to. Just because he revived one tree—"
"His qualifications seem more than sufficient, actually. He defeated a magic beast using Totemization, no less."
"Yes, yes, quite. Totemization… wh-what did you say?"
The cracked crock's eyes went perfectly round with shock, and the elders gaped as if doubting their own ears.
"Did you just say Totemization?"
"The art only the Saintess and the head of House Eshua may use?"
"Indeed. What is more, this child drove a 6th-Tier magic beast from the temple and saved both His Majesty and His Grace."
"Demon-expelling holy arts…!"
"A technique one cannot even employ until long past adulthood!"
"And that is not all. Against a bishop of House Berith, he supposedly blew his teeth out with holy power alone. Ah—Elder Brother would know that best of all, having taken it firsthand."
At Rillai's serene smile, Goel's brows shot up, and the elders trembled in even deeper disbelief.
"You cannot mean the Saintesses' holy arts—lost since the age of the Skeleton Demon King!"
"The Fist-school arts of the Saintesses in their prime?!"
"Well, that depends entirely on how you elders choose to interpret it."
At that single line, the elders—who had declared a boy to be of no use whatsoever—flipped like a turned palm. They began muttering amongst themselves.
"I say—Totemization and Fist arts? We are past the point of debating whether this is talent or not. He is no useless knickknack—he is a genius!"
"Could we truly send that teeth-grating Pope to his grave?!"
"Perhaps it is because he is the Saint that he can wield the Saintesses' holy arts. If that alone were revived, House Eshua could reclaim its honor."
Rillai smiled as though everything were going exactly to plan, and Whisper clicked his tongue.
Well, let them. It works in my favor.
Isaac rubbed his nose.
Of course, there were voices of dissent as well.
"And yet I don't sense a single shred of holy power from that child."
At the fierce acting head's words, the elders who had been sitting quietly turned to regard Isaac with open revulsion.
"Precisely. Anyone worthy of being called the Saint would have already made a contract with a god. So why can we not sense his holy power?"
"It hardly seems an auspicious sign. Why not sever the bloodline before it invites calamity?"
At the words of the faction scheming to harm Isaac, Rillai curled his lips upward as if daring them to try something more.
"This child can use Totemization. Concealing a little holy power would be nothing to him."
He had even arbitrarily buffed his nephew's stats on the spot.
The cracked crock, meanwhile, laughed hollowly.
"Then all the more reason to throw him out. Who in their right mind would welcome such a cowardly, demon-like ability?"
But the elders, far from agreeing, gleamed with open greed.
"He can hide his holy power!"
"If it's true, he'd become a peerless assassin—one who could even kill the Skeleton Demon King!"
"Perhaps we should raise him ourselves?"
"Steal him from where?! He's ours!"
Ha! You perverted bastards. This is why the holy faction is hopeless.
In fairness, the Skeleton Demon King had witnessed it all firsthand—not only the Saintesses' techniques, but holy arts from centuries past. Wielding the gods' divine arts through forgotten old ones was, for him, no trouble at all.
And so, when several of the elders he had counted as allies shifted their stance, the cracked crock's eyes bulged. By this point, he knew exactly what Rillai was about to say.
"Come to think of it, Elder Brother Goel said something, didn't he? That we mustn't forget there is a Saint candidate in this family."
Everyone froze.
"A Saint candidate? Goel, what is this about?"
At the razor-sharp voice, the cracked crock bit his lip and glared daggers at Rillai and Isaac. His face screamed: why would you bring that up HERE?
But he quickly recovered, smiling in triumph.
"We intended to say nothing until it received official recognition from His Holiness the Pope… but a Stigmata has manifested upon my child's body."
"What…?"
"Stigmata?"
The Stigmata was the mark of a blessing bestowed directly by god—and thus, it also served as proof of the Saint.
"So that was why he'd been absent recently…!"
"Yes. With the Matriarch away, we went ahead to the Holy See. The Stigmata is the one and only credential of a Saint. But what about that child over there? Does he have a Stigmata?"
"Rillai."
"He does not."
"You see? If you insist he's the Saint, then bring evidence. Without even the bare minimum qualification, what Saint, exactly? The genius here is my child."
Only then did Isaac grasp the true reason the cracked crock had been so desperate to cast him out.
So that leaky crock was planning to push his own brat as the Saint candidate all along.
By now, the mood among the elders and senior members had shifted.
"Still—the Saint without a Stigmata? Impossible."
"Could the child's power actually be his mother's? A holy art cast to protect the child in her womb, perhaps."
Rillai drove the wedge in.
"No. It is this child's own power. The Matriarch herself will surely acknowledge it when she sees him."
"!"
"Even the Matriarch—the strongest Saintess in history?"
Everyone wore expressions of astonishment, but Isaac only knitted his brows.
The Matriarch is Melissa. Meeting her means dying. Is my uncle out of his mind, wanting to show her my face?
At that, the cracked crock burst into contemptuous laughter.
"If you're that confident, then we might as well put it to the test."
"Pardon?"
"The Holy Relic Vault."
Everyone flinched at those words.
It was a special treasury coveted even by foreign nations—thousands of years of arcane secrets and sacred relics piled within its depths, tended generation after generation by the Saintess, and thus belonging to House Eshua. Because only children could enter, it was used in the present day solely for the Doljabi of Saintess candidates born into the family. What was more, the item a child carried out would divine their aptitude—and being allowed to keep that item was a bonus on top.
"If he is truly the Saint, then there's no harm in putting him through the trial within, is there?"
"Goel, don't talk nonsense. Anyone but a Saintess candidate born innately powerful dies in there. Didn't it get sealed last time after it produced casualties?"
But the cracked crock grinned in triumph.
"Well, if he's as extraordinary as you claim, he'll overcome the trials inside and retrieve the very treasure the great Saintess Melissa once carried out."
"And if he does, you will acknowledge him?"
No, I don't need your acknowledgment—just send me to the annex already!
"What's the matter? Do you have objections?"
"None. It's worth a try, I'd say. He is a child who can wield high-tier holy arts, after all."
At his uncle's supreme confidence, Isaac broke out in a cold sweat.
It's touching that you believe in me, Uncle. But I still can't handle holy power, you idiot!
Besides, he had walked this world for hundreds of years. How old was he supposed to be now, that he had to do a first-birthday grasping ceremony? This was going to be unbearably annoying.
Frankly, holy relics stuffed with the gods' power held not the slightest interest for Isaac.
Forget the Doljabi—just send me to the annex…
"Although, it is dangerous in there—the Skeleton Demon King's remains are sealed within."
Isaac's eyes flipped over.
You damn bastards—PLEASE let me do the Doljabi!
Push ever northwestward from the Holy Empire of Hella, and you reach a forest where no human can survive.
From there begins an uninhabited zone pressed flush against demon territory.
The Black Forest.
Everything—the plants, the soil—was a uniform black, a lawless land where anything thrown in would be reduced to bare bones within moments.
A place where, ordinarily, not even a drunkard would dare set foot, fleeing at the very first glimpse of its entrance. And yet, a strange silhouette stood there now.
"Kiek!"
"Kieeeek!"
A middle-aged man in black priest's vestments, a distinctive blue stole draped across his shoulders. The ground around him was strewn with the corpses of monsters.
The demons had lunged without a trace of fear at the intruder brazen enough to invade their own territory—only for the dark-blue aura wreathing his body to slice them apart where they stood. Even amid the carnage, the man's silver hair remained without the slightest dishevelment.
No—the man who would not tolerate a single drop of monster blood touching him was at this very moment tightening his grip around a demon's throat.
"Speak. Where is the Skeleton Demon King?"
At the question, the demon groaned through gritted teeth, eyes promising, you lunatic, I'll see you dead.
So this… is a Cardinal.
The highest-ranking clergy who attended the Pope's side. The demon had heard the rumors, but they truly existed on a different plane from ordinary priests. If the Pope was the King of the holy faction, then these men were the Queens. One might say they were the only ones who could claim the next Papal seat, were it not for the Saint.
And Eli Eshua, head of House Eshua, narrowed his eyes.
"I believe I asked you where he is."
[Useless. Our great King resides in a place the likes of you could never even imagine—]
Splat!!
The demon's face burst apart in an instant.
"Nothing here, either."
Judging the creature not worth another second of listening, the head of the house turned away. To hold back the demon armies swelling larger by the day, he had marched through lethal terrain and pushed deep into the very lungs of demon territory.
At the same time, he was searching for the Skeleton Demon King—defeated by the gods 150 years ago, and vanished without a trace ever since.
But in all his travels here, he had found no meaningful clue. Nor was there any sign of a new Demon King ascending the throne. Which made sense: the Skeleton Demon King was hailed as the greatest of all Demon Kings. His successor could hardly appear so soon.
If anything, there existed only impostors among the demons falsely claiming his name.
Where on earth is the real one?
And then—
"…M-My Lord! I pay homage to the Head of the House!"
A knight in blue knelt before Eli, head of House Eshua. One of the direct knights bound to serve as the living link between the house and its master. But unlike the head of the house, the man looked ready to collapse from exhaustion at any moment.
"What is it."
"It's…! I've come to request your permission to use a family relic. The Holy Relic Vault."
Feigning disinterest, the head clasped his hands behind his back and began dismantling a demon with his bare hands.
Crunch.
For some reason, the demons who had invoked the Skeleton Demon King's name were dismantled considerably more horrifically than the rest.
"Did I not tell you? The Holy See is barred from its use."
"That's just it—it isn't the Holy See who wishes to use it!"
The head's brow furrowed deeper. Then who? House Eshua had no girls of an age to perform the Doljabi.
"Well—you see, your grandson revived the family's Sacred Tree, my lord."
Sacred Tree? Grandson?
"And so the young masters wish to determine which child is the Saint…"
"Saint?"
Only then did the head of the house turn around.
"What nonsense. Why would there be a Saint in my house?"
The head of House Eshua took interest.