The Immortal King's Body (1)
‘Pass?’
Passs?
For a moment, Isaac's thoughts simply stopped, and he had no choice but to think it over. Had he misheard? Something about a cochlea suddenly sprouting into existence?
After hundreds of years of hearing through magic alone, was his brain short-circuiting from the sheer luxury of receiving sound through an actual auditory organ?
But the voice, unexpectedly, sounded absolutely delighted. Of every voice he had heard in his long existence, this was the most moved he'd ever heard one sound.
[Of all of these, the only one with the true qualifications of a Saint is the suckling—you!]
[You are worthy of the Third Chamber!]
[Of all of these, you alone have passed! Good heavens. A joyous occasion, a true blessing! An answer like this hasn't appeared since the very first trial! A Saint has come!]
"……?"
"……??"
"………??????"
No, he didn't seem to have misheard after all.
Isaac's eyebrows twitched, and the other children began to stir in loud, restless waves. By that point, even they had realized that something was going very, very wrong.
"Hold on, what? What's happening right now?"
"Passed?"
"I don't understand. Did you just say he's the only one who passed?"
"He didn't do anything, though? That's not a scam or something, right? It's real?"
At the sharp edge in the children's voices, the gatekeeper's tone turned abruptly cold, as if it had never been excited at all.
[You heard me correctly. Only that child may enter the Third Chamber.]
The children, unable to accept it, immediately flared up.
"Why? You clearly told us 'pass'—!!"
Weren't the sigils of light rising beneath their feet proof enough? If that wasn't passing, then what on earth was it for?
But the voice was icily, utterly frigid.
[I told you that you may pass. I never once said you passed.]
"Excuse me? But you said you'd send us through!"
[Indeed. But I never said I'd send you to the Third Chamber.]
"……?!"
[Where you are going is a prison. Those sigils are teleportation markers leading to the underground dungeons. Stay planted there until that child has finished choosing.]
The words struck like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, and the children pushed back at once.
"That's absurd! Why should we?"
"I can't see any reason. Why, exactly?"
Unfair was too weak a word for how unfair this was. They had done every single thing they were told—so why?
At the reactions of children who simply could not comprehend, the voice let out a hollow, bitter laugh.
[Do you truly not understand? I commanded you to prove your faith in God.]
"Yes! And that's exactly what we showed!"
"We each knelt before the statue and paid our respects—hack."
The children who had flared up and raised their voices found their throats seized shut in an instant. And with it, their faces began to drain, bone-pale.
They were children who had received religious instruction from the cradle. There was no way they couldn't grasp what mistake they had made.
And sure enough—
[I told you to worship God. I never once told you to worship a statue.]
"……!!"
When commanded to worship God, these were the children who had put on the most solemn, most self-abasing formal rites they knew. But outside of temples officially sanctioned by the gods themselves, such things were forbidden—all of it was idolatry.
Which meant the true meaning of "only those who proved their faith toward the statue may enter the Third Chamber" was this:
‘Not kneeling before the statue. That is the real answer.’
And as proof of it, the voice descended upon the children with terrifying severity.
[Is your God that statue there? Is anything that merely resembles a God, a God?]
Between the children, it was easy to hear voices laced with both indignation and the verge of tears.
"B-but…! To reach the Third Chamber… we were told to do that."
[So then. Given even the smallest benefit, you are the sort who would kneel before those who are not God.]
"……!!"
This was true of all priests, but for the Saintess and the Saint above all: one must never kneel to anyone who was not one's own God. They were meant to be models for all others—and idolatry, therefore, was a taboo to be avoided at absolutely all costs.
[Look at that child. Did he not hold to his convictions even in the face of death? Even with such a small, young body, he revealed a true and genuine faith. And so, that clever, remarkable little suckling alone shall be sent to the Third Chamber.]
The children had no choice but to stand there like the proverbial mute who'd just swallowed honey.
A lapse of judgment. It felt as though the blood had vanished from their bodies, from crown to soles of their feet.
Worse still, this was a point drilled into them again and again even at the Holy See—they couldn't even claim ignorance. Anyone truly aspiring to sainthood should have held fast to their convictions before that statue. They were meant to be the leaders representing the divine faction.
But even so…
[And right now you're thinking: Why the dirty trick at the very end? Why stab us in the back?]
"……?!!"
Is it reading our minds right now?
For a few of them, it landed dead center—they couldn't even lift their heads. Their hearts felt ready to stop.
[Tsk. Most Saint candidates hail from noble houses, so I knew there would be plenty of worldly, calculating sorts among you. The white dragon of the Imperial crest must be weeping.]
[If you believe this was deception, you are truly foolish. The Saint and the Saintess stand on the very front lines, leading the people and channeling power to God. Because of this, the demonkin are driven half-mad with desperation to lure away the Saint and the Saintess by any means necessary. Disguising themselves as a god or the god's messenger to tempt them is a common tactic. A supreme Demon King like the Skeleton King could transform into a god with even greater ease.]
Uh, no? Those bastards don't do that, actually?
Isaac let out a hollow laugh.
Do they have any idea how inefficient that is? Are they bragging that they're silver-spooned brats with mana to burn, huh? Huh?
[And so this was merely a test, to ensure you would not be swayed by profit and threats. I gave you the hint in the previous chamber, and still you ended up like this. Below standard.]
God, what a disgustingly roundabout way of talking.
You just pulled a word-game scam on a bunch of kids, you bastard.
[Thus, the only one to truly pass this test is that child. He not only refrained from idolatry—he attempted to destroy the object of that idol. From where, in that tiny body, did he draw such courage and strength? And so, to the Third Chamber goes that bright, brilliant little suckling alone.]
Yep, everything our dear Dragon says is gospel truth. No scam here at all.
[And this matter shall be made public to the world.]
"!!"
The children froze solid.
‘Damn it. If this gets out, our rankings…’
Isaac cackled—puhehehehe.
Well, honestly, he just hadn't wanted to bow his head to things that merely resembled gods. But the gatekeeper's singing his praises, so who's complaining! As long as the interviewer took it the right way, wasn't that all that mattered?
Now then, without any rivals to worry about, time to leisurely claim what's mine—
"I must raise an objection."
—was never going to happen, huh.
Isaac turned toward the voice. As expected, it was Kina Berith.
‘Right. The House of the Pope would never give up.’
A capable candidate disqualified so absurdly? No way they'd swallow that.
Sure enough, Kina Berith was glaring fiercely toward the statue.
"I cannot accept this."
[Ho. That territorial, exclusive air, and those characteristically stubborn eyes—Berith, is it.]
A strange flicker of hostility threaded through the voice, but Kina Berith did not flinch in the slightest.
"That child is an infant. There is no way to prove whether he refused to kneel out of genuine conviction."
It wasn't a wrong point. The child's actions could have been nothing more than a physical reflex, rather than anything infused with conscious intent. No matter how extraordinary the Saintess line may be, he was far too young for his faith to be judged.
"If that child truly possessed such faith, there would have been no way he could be without a Stigmata in the first place."
The children tilted their heads. They needed a moment to parse what Kina was even saying—because his words were so profoundly strange.
"Wait—he doesn't have a Stigmata?"
"What? How can a Saint candidate not have one?!"
As if on some unspoken signal, the children all peeled back their own clothing. Wrists, ankles, waist, neck—the locations and sizes varied, but every one of them bore a marking: a sacred sigil, as if a wound had been laid upon them by God.
And it wasn't as if anyone was stripping anyone else bare, so how could Kina know whether another family's child had a Stigmata or not? Easy, actually.
‘Ah, right—the House of the Pope would know.’
Hadn't his dolt of an uncle done the same? The moment Shuri's Stigmata appeared, he'd gone straight to the Holy See to have it officially verified. And the Holy See was, for all practical purposes, run by the House of the Pope—of course word would travel. Who possessed a Stigmata, and where on their body, and of what grade.
As proof of that, Kina Berith gritted his teeth.
‘I didn't want to go this far, but there's no choice.’
Nitpicking like this left a bad taste in his mouth—but protecting his opportunity mattered more. If he were disqualified here and now, it would stain the face of the father who had sent him, and dishonor the dignity of the Papal house itself.
But the voice, if anything, chuckled as though it had suspected as much all along.
[There are infants upon whom no Stigmata has yet appeared.]
"Mine appeared, though."
Kina's lion-like golden eyes gleamed. The voice laughed, dismissively.
[You ought to understand that yours didn't appear because of anything you did.]
"Excuse me?"
[Do the rest of you share that same thinking?]
Several children immediately stepped forward.
"Of course! There's no way we'd be outdone by an infant without even a Stigmata!"
"This is unacceptable!"
[Well, fine. You say you can't accept it, so I have no choice. I shall send every last one of you to the Third Chamber.]
Color bloomed across the faces of Kina Berith and the other children.
"Then…!"
Yes! We did it!
Kina Berith's lackeys strutted and crowed.
"Hey, all of you! Remember this well! Just who was it that sent you all to the Third Chamber!"
"That's right, Lord Kina—"
[If you so dearly wish to throw yourselves into the fire and die like the fools you are, then by all means, off you go.]
…Huh?
At the voice's undisguised mockery, the children realized that something had gone terribly wrong.
And that was the moment.
KUUUUM!
With the sensation of the floor itself lurching sideways, the children clapped their hands over their mouths.
"Kk-heugh…!!"
They couldn't breathe. A horrific demonic miasma was pouring out from a single point—the place that appeared to be the door of the Third Chamber. The same door that, until a moment ago, had shown no abnormality whatsoever.
Had the seal been so complete until now that even the hairline gaps of the door were sealed shut? Without even being opened—merely from the seal on the cracks loosening the tiniest fraction—an ice-cold dread of demonic power was seeping through.
From that alone, the children felt as though they would suffocate and die. Crying? Such things were a luxury, their minds too scrambled to manage even that.
And really, by this point, there was no way they couldn't know who the master of this skin-crawling demonic power was.
[Do you truly not know? Within that chamber lies the Body of the Skeleton King.]
"……!!"
[The reason this trial of faith was forced upon you at all is simple: the moment you enter the Third Chamber, the likes of you will all die—every one of you—because of the Skeleton King's Body. Ignorant, arrogant fools who know not their place.]
"……!!"
[The Third Chamber has already undergone demonic corruption so complete that it may as well be part of the Demon Realm. And you propose to carry the Skeleton King's Body out of it? Fools who cannot even meet the most basic of teachings?]
That's enough out of you, or these kids are going to wet their pants.
Isaac clicked his tongue for show, but his eyes were curving into crescents—puhuhuhuhu.
And why wouldn't he? That aura, that power!
His own body, beyond a doubt!
To think they'd been keeping his own body enshrined so beautifully this whole time!
Bless you, you wonderful clergy bastards!
At Isaac's reaction, the voice grew tremendously excited, as if to say, see that?
[Look! The child who proved his faith stands so utterly composed before it! Even now, can you not see the difference?]
The children turned to Isaac in confusion.
But the moment they followed everyone's gaze, they couldn't help but flinch for an entirely different reason.
"Dda-ddyaap-bwaal! (Wait for me, my lovely body.)"
Composed…?
Composed, they said?
"Ssmmm-yaahp!"
That looks, no matter how you look at it, like someone smacking his lips?
"Ya-yaal-ya-ya-yee-aahl! (Bwaal-bwaal, just a little longer, I'm coming right now!)"
That looks, no matter how you look at it, like someone drooling?!