Chapter 31. What the Heck Is That Kid? (4)

There was a saying: the Five Radiant Stars.

It referred to the five great faiths that stood at the helm of the continent — and at the head of the Blue Faith among them shone the Guide of Light, House Eshua.

And as everyone knows, what manner of family was Eshua?

The most noble 'sword' among the five lights! A faith that protected the weak by striking down the Demons! These were men and women who fought the forces of darkness on the very frontlines, and so they had to be tougher than anyone, more resistant to temptation than anyone.

Which was why the Blue Sword of Eshua was famously incorruptible, courageous, honest, and incapable of coveting another's possessions… no, damn it, never mind. The point was, they were hailed as the most virtuous house in all the empire!

That was how it was supposed to be.

"Tta-tta-tta-tta! (Hahaha, this is sweet!)"

[Kyahahaha! You blasted little priest brats! Offer your strength to your Master, on the double!]

"Ddu-ya! (Become nutrients!)"

Shuri buried his face in his hands as he watched the milk-drinking infant gleefully rattling the Holy Power Absorption ring. Every time Isaac shook it, he could see torrents of potent holy power being sucked into the band — every last drop of strength the other candidates possessed being stripped away without mercy.

Frankly, it was impossible to tell whether the kid was a demon spawn or the bloodline of a priestly house.

Not that the victims being drained dry seemed to have any clue something was wrong.

"Huh? Why did my holy art just cut out?"

"Is this part of the trial too?!"

"Gasp — so, so Eshua endures trials like this from the very Doljabi?!"

"…Truly worthy of reverence…!"

How many times do I have to say it — it's NOT!

Shuri was probably the only one who understood what was actually happening. It came down to Eshua's purebred bloodline — his family carried bodies tempered against demons and special abilities woven into their very blood.

But even if you witnessed something like this, you could never tell a soul!

No, seriously — how would you even phrase it? That the kid hosting this whole event is draining the Saint candidates dry while cackling like a demon? And honestly, even if you did tell someone, nobody would believe you anyway.

The ring had originally been designed to draw only a trickle of support from the holy power of those nearby. In other words, it could take just a pinch at a time. If it had been capable of stripping holy power wholesale the way this extortion racket was doing, it would never have been dismissed as a mere Saintess's trinket — a low-grade item — in the first place!

Uncle Rillai knew that too. That was precisely why he'd only anchored a low-tier holy art to it, matched to its modest charge limit.

So how in the world is it putting out power like THIS? It's as if the ring's original strength has been… upgraded.

'How, exactly? Is that the child's own power?'

But at Shuri's stare, Isaac merely clicked his tongue in scorn.

'Not an upgrade. I simply drew out what was always there.'

Isaac remembered. He remembered how much had been sacrificed, hundreds of years ago, for the Saintesses to kill just one of him.

This ring, too, had once been a gift of the gods that drank in the life force of everyone around it to gather holy power. The Saintesses themselves knew the full weight of that sacrifice — it was what drove them to such desperate lengths.

'Sorry, but being alive beats being dead. That's just how it is.'

The Saintesses were nothing but summoned executioners, dragged to the battlefield by a single order from those lazy good-for-nothing gods.

Why should they have to die? What crime had the companions who came with them committed, that they had to bleed?

So the Skeleton Demon King, as he fought the Saintesses, had secretly sealed the powers of their relics.

That way, under the banner of divine punishment, no more innocent guardian knights would be sacrificed — and the Saintesses themselves would never contemplate self-destruction.

And sure enough, after that, the pointless bloodbaths and meaningless sacrifices ceased.

The only side effects were that the Saintesses of that era turned out to be hopeless with directions, and developed an annoying habit of climbing over other people's bedroom walls.

And then — whether because they were nobles hopelessly ignorant of the world, or because the only skill they'd ever learned was turning demons into cuts of meat — they'd waltz around carrying idiotic sums of money, so every visit came with a generous helping of pickpocketing… no, wait, that's not the point.

The point was, age had taken its toll, yes — but the truth was the seal had simply crippled the ring's function. And since the one who'd planted that seal was standing right here…

Then all I have to do is undo it and restore the thing to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠its original power, doesn't it? And so long as it's not being used to kill me, I might as well use it to live the sweet life! Puhahaha!

"Tta-tta-tta-tta! (Cough up more holy power, you lot)!"

"Waaah, I'm getting sleepy…"

"Hah… my strength…!"

Thud! Thud!

Still, out of what remained of his conscience, Isaac refrained from draining their life force. He only needed to refill what he'd burned dealing with the golem earlier. Not that he'd wanted to replenish that blasted holy power at all —

'If I starve it, this wretched body just goes ahead and converts my mana into holy power on its own.'

Damn meat suit.

More than anything, it was wisest to stockpile as much power as possible for the third chamber.

'The second guardian was a demon. Which means the third will almost certainly be a dragon.'

A dragon might recognize him. Unlike the golem, it could cast magic — one slip and it might sense who he really was. So he'd settle this with holy arts alone, as far as possible.

And besides, if you were going to fleece someone, you had to flay them with holy power first — that's what made them pay through the nose. Puhehe.

The ones being drained would surely feel robbed to the point of death, but really, they ought to be bowing in gratitude.

'Your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bodies couldn't withstand the demonic relic of the Skeleton King's flesh anyway. Consider the poisoning, for one…'

But that was the moment it happened.

Fwoooosh!

"!"

In a rush of golden flame, the murderous puppet inside the second chamber was consumed in an instant.

CRASH!

It wasn't so much burned as erased — annihilated outright, without even ash remaining. A pure, immaculate golden light that would tolerate not the slightest impurity.

Thus the flame that symbolized the Gold Faith swept away the demonic puppet in a single stroke — and then—

"Found you at last."

"Kina Berith!"

Kina Berith — dead last until now — made his entrance. Panting hard, he was climbing down from a great bird of light. There was no doubt about it: the moment he'd seen Isaac open the second chamber's door, he'd summoned the Holy Spirit in desperation.

At the sight, Shuri looked at Kina Berith as though staring into the abyss.

'He can already summon a Holy Spirit?'

And it wasn't just Shuri. Every other child wore the same expression. These were precious divine spirits deployed only against high-ranking demon incursions.

Granted, it was a non-combat spirit, and still small in size — but this went far beyond the question of mere talent.

This was overwhelming genius.

And yet Kina Berith had eyes only for Isaac.

"Don't tell me — you actually startled me. I never imagined there was someone else here capable of felling the demon."

Kina Berith's eyes were trembling. And no wonder. Hadn't his grandfather the Pope said it himself?

There will be no child greater than you. Every Saint candidate will become your vassal — all of them will kneel at your feet…!

Isaac rubbed his nose at the rare sight of those shaking eyes.

Yeah, I can guess what that is. He's replaying his grandfather's nonsense. And obviously the Papal house would say something like that. Something about how all the Saint candidates will end up as their lackeys, probably.

'Too bad. The one who ends up as the servant is YOU, buddy.'

So what if this brat was a genius born once in a millennium?

'This magnificent body is a genius born once in ten thousand years.'

The Demon King's eye for talent wasn't mere decoration — did they think he'd chosen to live in this body for nothing?

[You simply won the diamond-spoon lottery, Your Master, that's the whole story.]

Shut it.

Anyway, this situation had to be absolutely flabbergasting for the boy. Sure enough, Kina Berith shot Isaac a look of open displeasure.

"Don't tell me — like in the first chamber, you lured the others into traps? If that's what happened, then…"

At that, the children who had collapsed came shouting.

"No! He got like this trying to clear the trial in our place!"

"He told us which way to go, too!"

"He's our benefactor!"

"……."

Shuri's conscience bled so hard it practically pooled beneath him, but he let it slide. Kina Berith's accusation had rendered all of that suddenly beside the point.

"Hah! A milk-drinking infant is your 'benefactor'?!"

"!"

"And you call yourselves Saint candidates without a shred of shame? I could see your caliber back when we were still studying at the Papal Court — but to think even you would sink to accepting help from him."

Shuri didn't bother to deny it. This vault, after all, was structured so that no outside help was permitted.

But the children only glared back at Kina Berith with something bordering on loathing.

"Oh, and the guy who came in dead last has a lot to shout about?"

"!"

"We found all the traps ourselves. All you did was trail along behind him and us — what exactly is your achievement here?"

"And you're still going on about Saints? That kid is a far better Saint than you'll ever be!"

"When we get out of here, we're telling everyone. You did nothing, and Eshua was the best of us all."

Kina Berith flinched. However young he was, he understood. This was no simple Doljabi.

It was a war between houses.

"Shall I tell my father? Perhaps following House Eshua would serve you better."

"Bashing the Saintess's family — I wondered how far that would go. Who was it that said the Eshua boys had no ability, exactly?"

"……!"

Kina Berith looked as though he'd been struck in the gut. Shuri's face writhed as his conscience geysered upward, and Isaac spread both arms wide like a man drinking in vintage wine.

Ah, YES! You filthy, scheming little priest chicks! You gang-up-happy priest bastards! THIS is what I'm talking about! Keep it coming! Destroy each other!

As everyone knows, to conquer a nation ruled by nobility, popular support is essential!

Anyone who follows him will be specially promoted to pack mule!

And then—

"……!!"

The children broke into an uproar, but Isaac smiled — for a very different reason.

He had no choice but to.

[There is strong demonic mana in your voice, Master.]

He's clearly trying to hide it — but there's no mistaking it. A dragon.

But the children, catching none of this, raised their voices as if to ask what nonsense that was.

"M-me, the third chamber! Look how far I've already come!"

"Forget the second chamber!"

The treasures of the second chamber were plenty worthy of being national treasures, but they paled beside the third. Down there lay artifacts of mythic rank — and above all, the Skeleton Demon King's flesh.

"If we take only the third chamber's prize, our house's standing will be transformed!"

"That's right!"

[Very well. All of you will face my trial, even if it kills you — is that your answer?]

That ultimatum only steeled the children's resolve further. Along with the frozen terror of the children, a statue came crashing down from the ceiling.

THOOM!

"Wh-what now? Another statue?"

But this statue was on an entirely different order from the ones before.

"That face — it's the statue of the Chief God!"

The children could scarcely believe their ears.

They'd been terrified that failure meant death — and the trial ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was this?

As if to say don't worry, the voice chuckled.

Everyone cheered — every last one except a single child, who could not have been less pleased.

'Kneel to WHICH son of a bitch, exactly?'

Isaac's eyes darkened into something murderous.

To the Chief God? Was this a joke?!

That was his mortal enemy — the very bastard who'd cheated him at the end. Did they seriously think he'd kneel to a statue of that thing?!

No. Not happening!

But the other children sank to their knees one by one. Every one of them performed not a perfunctory bow, but the full, formal rite of reverence toward god.

The voice sounded thoroughly satisfied.

[Well taught. Good. You may pass.]

With those words, a sigil of light bloomed at the children's feet — the mark granted to those who had passed the test.

[And you? Will you give up and choose death?]

The frightened children hurriedly knelt again. One after another, the remaining candidates received their passing marks — until it seemed the only one left in the chamber was Isaac himself.

Yet even in that moment, Isaac sat there, blank as a stone.

Shuri, who had set him down, began to sweat nervously. He was still a baby; surely he couldn't understand the words… no, of course he could. And far from blankness, the child was glaring at the statue's neck like a man measuring exactly where to sever it. Something was very wrong.

Is… is he making a bomb in his hand right now? That's just my imagination, right? Right?

'This is definitely going to be recorded and made known outside.'

Left as he was, Isaac would surely be judged as faithless, his very qualification for sainthood called into question.

Kina Berith felt all his earlier vigilance toward the child drain into futility. Talent meant nothing if the faith wasn't there.

'I don't even need to guess. He'll be stripped of Saint candidacy.'

In the end, Shuri and Kina knelt as well — but Isaac remained immovable as a mountain. The children bearing their passing marks stirred uneasily.

"Why isn't he doing it? Can he not understand the words?"

"No, he's understood everything so far. Maybe there's something wrong with his faith…"

"…W-wait. Was the rumor true? The one about House Eshua losing its faith lately? That's supposedly why they couldn't catch the Skeleton King…"

The children's eyes turned strange.

Shuri, terrified that House Eshua was about to take the fall, tried to press Isaac's little body down into a bow — and instead got smacked by the baby himself.

At that sight, the voice grew openly displeased. It seemed to have noticed that not a whiff of faith radiated from the child.

What do you want me to do about it, you lying sack of—

"Tta-tta-tta-tta! (Shall I slit your throat like I did that statue's, hm?)!"

At those words, an immense, invisible force bore down upon Isaac's little head.

THOOM!

It was forcing Isaac's knees down — forcing his head to the floor.

Isaac, absorbing the full brunt of it, had no choice but to bare his teeth. The veins stood out on his tiny face.

Crack.

[…Master?]

Crrrack.

[Master! Wait, hold on—!]

Ah. There it is. The sound of my patience snapping clean in two.

Whatever. Vault, shmault — he'd blow that bastard apart too and just go collect the flesh directly. Understood? Everything that happens from this moment on is entirely the fault of the uncle who cast that blessing on me. That's just how it is!

And so, in the very instant Isaac was about to blast the statue to rubble—

Damn right! Passed! Fine. Excellent. Just you wait, you overgrown lizard — I'm going to kill you so dead—

"……."

…………….

…Huh?