Chapter 38. I Beg Your Pardon? (3)

In truth, Isaac hadn't just nicked the Remains of the Skeleton Demon King — he'd made off with a decent handful of the Third Vault's treasures as well.

And for good reason. The Third Vault?

It was packed to the rafters with treasures of mythic grade.

Roughly speaking, that's the tier where you could start throwing hands with an actual god.

Of course, they say even the continent's most celebrated Sword Saints and archmages couldn't handle such things without qualification.

Wield them? That's underselling it, don't you think?

The Skeleton Demon King himself had, after all, been a mythic-grade existence to begin with.

The Holy Scriptures were notorious for dismissing demons in a single line, no matter how they'd dominated an era — and yet those same scriptures devoted hundreds of volumes to the Skeleton Demon King alone.

Did it really make sense that a being who had traded blows with gods couldn't handle mythic-grade weapons?

Ah — well, he couldn't handle them right now.

His arms and legs were a touch too short for that.

And it wasn't as if he planned on swinging a weapon around like some muscle-brained brute anyway.

But the secret arts were another matter entirely!

Tomes of technique were, in a sense, more useful than any weapon — and unlike the weapons, he could put them to use immediately!

Which was exactly why Isaac had scooped up every last bundle of secret arts the Third Vault had to offer.

And now, for the first time in this life, he hadn't merely copied a spell — he'd learned one from the ground up, on his own!

"Oh, Isaac! You drove the Pope's people out! Well done! Well done indeed!"

"If only the Matriarch had been there to see that Pope lapdog's face!"

The elders of House Eshua were hugging Isaac and doing what could only be described as a tap dance.

Having all but kicked the Pope's errand-runner out the door, they were in full festival spirits.

"We were already fuming with all those lackeys clinging to the Papal Court these days, trying to drag House Eshua down!"

"That's right! Against the Papal Court of all people, you can't afford to lose even at rock-paper-scissors!"

"Last time, did we not have our request for support refused by the Holy See over some absurd pretext? And to House Eshua alone, no less!"

"That much we could count ourselves lucky for! They invite us all the way out somewhere, then cancel the event without so much as a word just to make us waste the trip! Is House Eshua's manpower a joke to them? Those gloomy little wretches!"

"The Patriarch told us to hold our tongues, saying we mustn't become the very same sort ourselves."

But it seemed that long-swallowed resentment had finally found its release, for the elders hoisted Isaac high into the air.

"First the treasure vault, and now this — this boy is no ordinary child!"

Yet the elders of Eshua knew the truth.

The treasure vault, the Pope's errand-runner — in every instance, they knew exactly who the real, hidden hero had been!

Isaac had done well, certainly, but the true merit belonged not to Isaac.

And so they jabbed Rillai squarely in the ribs, again and again.

"Eh-heh, you sly genius, Rillai! However did you think to slip past the Papal Court's dirty tricks so cleanly?"

"…Pardon?"

"Don't play innocent with us. You cast the Sacred Flame holy art over Isaac, didn't you? Ha, breathtaking. And on top of that, the timing — you had Isaac burn the medal at precisely the right moment!"

Rillai blinked.

"…Pardon? Did the elders not know? I myself never noticed him casting it, and I was merely impressed that he…"

"…Hm?"

"…Pardon?"

"…Hm?"

…Huh?

Their expressions curdled.

WHAAAAAT?!

Only then did they grasp an impossible truth.

"Hold on. Are you telling me this child used the Sacred Flame?!"

"In-in the treasure vault too — that wasn't you secretly casting holy arts over him, Rillai?!"

"So that's how he got his hands on the Skeleton Demon King's remains…"

"…No, that's what I've been trying to explain this whole time. All I cast was an ordinary invisibility blessing. The organizers are hardly in a position to call foul play."

At that, Elder Vane — who had been serving as the event's inspector — let the glasses he'd been polishing drop from his hand.

"…Then that High-Speed Stride as well?"

"…Isaac… can use the Stride too?"

"……?"

"……????"

?????????????

The elders, the senior clergy, and Rillai all stared at Isaac with trembling pupils.

"Then it was Isaac who burned the Pope's medal?!"

Yes, I did it, you dolts.

Isaac's eyes curved into crescent moons.

Granted, it took some effort to learn. Not because it was hard, mind you.

As someone who had once stood at the summit of the 10th Tier, mastering it had been trivial in itself — but since it was a scripture praising the gods, merely reading it made his blood boil.

His size and firepower were still leagues behind his Demon King days, but at this level? It would do.

"The Sacred Flame is a holy art of the soul, usable only through a covenant with a god! How could a child who has never made a covenant—"

That's exactly WHY he used it, you absolute—

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

Otherwise do you think he'd touch such filthy holy garbage?!

"The probability that Isaac's mother cast it for him is…"

Yeah, not that either.

"That woman's affinity isn't fire at all! It's the exact opposite element!"

"!"

When even the men of House Eshua began to waver, the wet nurse could apparently hold her tongue no longer.

She herself had never imagined it — least of all from Rillai, the very man who had brought Isaac home.

"They say young Lord Isaac turned the Shadow Lich into a totem. The sacred wood as well — which means he can indeed use holy arts, can't he?"

But the men shook their heads, drained of all color.

"Having talent and actually casting specific holy arts are two entirely different matters!"

"That's right! Talking is one thing! But no one ever taught that boy so much as his letters, and he produced written scripture!"

Even Melissa, the girl once hailed as a prodigy, had at the very least learned her letters before she began.

No, that's not the point.

What they're saying is that boy just erased the Pope's blessing—

As the full gravity of the situation sank in, they hurriedly summoned Goel.

This was no ordinary matter.

"Goel! Bring us back the medal that burned earlier! We must see it with our own eyes!"

Goel didn't so much as pretend to listen.

"I was told to dispose of it, so I disposed of it."

"You fool! Why would you throw it away? It's proof that Isaac used power!"

"You elders said it upset you and ordered it destroyed. And above all, leaving evidence behind would be… inconvenient."

"We thought it was Rillai who worked the trick!"

But Goel, the man who had thrown the medal away, simply kept his silence.

Don't tell me what Shuri said was true.

The boy himself had claimed he was the one who'd been helped by Isaac.

A mother whose affinity was not the Sacred Flame could never have conferred the Sacred Flame's power. Which meant everything until now had been accomplished by the boy's own strength.

But that wasn't even the greater problem.

That medal.

While disposing of it, Goel had happened to witness it — only a portion, but still. The metal, half-melted in the Sacred Flame's fire.

Damn it. The box and cloth are one thing, but the metal component actually melting?

The box and cloth carried blessings too, so that alone was no small feat — but a senior cleric could manage it regardless.

It wasn't some mythic-grade relic, after all; it was mass-produced goods.

But the metal?

The Papal Court's metal, which no fire in this world can withstand?

Neither the Patriarch — nor even a Demon King — had ever melted the Papal Court's metal.

And with good reason. The Pope's metal was the very symbol of the Faith of Gold, and nothing less than the Pope made manifest.

And the color of that flame, of all things, had been blue?

And what would happen if this fact reached the Patriarch's ears?

It will without question affect the succession.

And so Goel had erased the sole piece of evidence. It could never be allowed to reach the Patriarch or the Matriarch.

"Argh! And we can't exactly procure another medal blessed by the Pope! Someone, anyone! Go dig through the trash and find it again!"

"Yes, my lord!"

At the elder's command, the servants scrambled into motion — but Goel only smirked.

They'll never find it.

He'd tied a stone to it and dumped it in the deepest reaches of the lake, where no soul could ever retrieve it.

As if he'd ever hand the seat of the Saint, the very summit of the Blue Faith, to some snot-nosed brat.

House Berith.

Kina Berith had been confined to his chambers for nearly half a month — the punishment for his disgraceful conduct in the treasure vault.

The moment his confinement lifted, he went straight to his father.

He'd steeled himself to defend his own innocence, but the instant ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he met his father's eyes, the words died in his throat.

"So tell me. What exactly possessed you to bring back this?"

"……"

Those gleaming golden eyes made it clear: no childish whims, no excuses, would be entertained.

To be sure, Kina was the most gifted in the entire nation. The treasures he had brought back were accordingly treasures of national caliber.

But.

"The Third Vault is a mythic-grade treasury. Even setting aside the Skeleton Demon King's remains, valuables were in endless supply. We went to the trouble of granting you entry to a Saintess's vault — and you came back with this pile of junk?"

"B-but they truly weren't there!"

Kina had been wronged.

Upon entering the Third Vault, he had distinctly sensed the auras of powerful treasures beyond the Skeleton Demon King's remains.

So, setting the remains aside, he had set out to claim the very finest of them—

Whoosh!

—and every time he ran toward a place where a treasure's aura beckoned, the treasure had already vanished as if it had never been.

Whoosh whoosh!

No, he wasn't lying — they had genuinely disappeared!

And every single one of them had been a treasure Kina had judged to be the best.

Even the ones he'd been in the very act of reaching for vanished.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh!

—…???

Every bit of it had, of course, been Isaac's doing — but Kina, knowing none of this, could only stand there dumbfounded.

When he'd finished his account, the Cardinal wore a look of grim recognition, and a wintry smile crossed his face.

"The vault's dragon up to its old tricks again, I see."

"B-but why would a dragon—!"

"Being spiteful. The Divine Dragons have no love for House Berith."

"!"

Besides, by this age, the dragons bowed to no one at all.

Weren't they the insufferable creatures who wouldn't even show their faces to the imperial bloodline, bound to them though they were by the ancient covenant?

"Not that a dragon has ever cared for any human."

"……"

And yet, in that instant, Kina broke into a cold sweat.

Why?

Why, of all moments, is that voice from the vault surfacing in my memory?

A voice that had, in no uncertain terms, passed Isaac through.

Why? Why does that gnaw at me so?

Kina's eyes wavered.

But the Cardinal soon frowned, as if none of that mattered in the slightest.

"So Isaac Eshua melted the gold of the Papal Court."

Hearing the news from his shadow, Cardinal Verith knit his brow in evident displeasure.

The brat using the Sacred Flame was one thing — fine. One need only assume his talent was genuinely as exceptional as Kina's.

But what had just occurred was something absolutely impossible — something that must never have been possible. House Eshua had, in effect, shattered the absolute emblem of the Pope's power itself.

His subordinates, grasping the implication, asked anxiously.

"Shouldn't we first smuggle that medal out before anything else! If House Eshua uses it as evidence to work some scheme—!"

Especially if the Eshua Patriarch learned of it, it would become a genuine headache.

"What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if the Eshua Patriarch's heart turns because of it? If House Eshua's next Patriarch comes from the Saintess's blood rather than the Pope's line, is that not a catastrophe?"

"No cause for concern. Goel has already disposed of the medal."

"Even if he is the Patriarch's own cousin, can we truly trust a man of Eshua?"

Cardinal Verith gave a low laugh.

"He would sooner die than see his seat as Patriarch snatched away by a mere suckling. Rest assured, he will have disposed of it more thoroughly than anyone. They say he hurled it to the bottom of Lake Eliseba. Send men to recover it."

His attendant and Kina both started in alarm.

"P-pardon? Lake Eliseba?"

Of all places!

"That place is far too deep and dangerous. Rather than committing manpower… it would be wiser to simply leave it buried—"

"Then shall I go myself?"

At that glacial voice, the attendant bowed his head in a frantic rush.

"No, my lord! I shall assemble only those with tightest lips."

"Retrieve it without a single soul knowing. Did you imagine I would allow some absurd rumor to spread — that a suckling's blue flame melted the gold of the Gold Faith? No one may ever find it. A senior cleric above all must never lay eyes on it."

Cardinal Verith found Isaac profoundly distasteful — and yet, somehow, unable to dismiss him from his mind. Ordinarily, he would not have spared a thought for any child outside the Papal Court's own line.

But the brat had survived the poison. Survived the treasure vault. And after all that, he'd gone and swallowed the Skeleton Demon King's remains into the bargain — and still lived?

Just what manner of creature is this?

The western reaches of the Eshua Duchy.

A man was making his way home across treacherous mountain ranges.

He had been flying astride the great Whale Divine Beast when, without warning, he raised a hand.

"Hold."

"?"

At that single gesture, the dozens of high-ranking knights attending him halted as one.

Soon the knights murmured among themselves.

"My lord?"

This was the lakeside where monsters roamed.

This was hardly the place they'd planned to stop.

Yet the Patriarch of House Eshua, Eli Eshua, was staring fixedly at the depths of the lake, for some reason.

As though he had discovered something at the bottom of the placid water.

"There's something at the bottom of the lake. I must confirm it."

"P-pardon? The… the bottom? The bottom of the lake? You're joking, surely? That lake is hundreds of meters deep, and the man-eating fish make it impossible to enter— hlk! My lord!"

In answer, the Eshua Patriarch leapt straight down from the divine beast soaring through the sky.

"My lord?!"

From this height, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with no protective gear?!

The knights hastily wheeled the beast around and chased after their master.

But the Patriarch touched down without stirring so much as a speck of dust, and gazed out over the lake.

"My lord, what are you—"

Rather than answer, the Patriarch raised a single hand. And drove his fist down toward the lake!

BOOOM!

The knights screamed.

A thunderclap like a mountain detonating, and a colossal shockwave crushed down upon everything around it.

"Gwaaah!"

They could not even remain standing.

And then the knights beheld a sight they could scarcely believe.

The force of the blow drove straight down through the lake to its very deepest floor in an instant,

"Ghhk…!"

and, as though a colossal hole had been punched through the lake itself, the water erupted skyward — dragging a waterspout of man-eating fish along with it, as if that weren't enough.

Then, over the exposed lakebed, the Patriarch crooked a finger.

At once, the something resting on the lake bottom came flying into the Patriarch's hand.

Thwap.

How many instants, how many heartbeats, had that taken?

As the Patriarch gazed down at his prize, the frozen moment resumed — the towering column of water and fish came crashing back down from the sky.

Splatter-splatter-splatter!

"Gah, gaahh! Fish! Man-eating fish!"

It was like a downpour in the middle of a storm.

It was, in a word, the most brutish and violent method imaginable.

The knights hastily stripped off their cloaks to shield the Patriarch.

But the Patriarch of House Eshua himself only tilted his head at the object he had fished up from the lakebed.

"Now what is… this?"

It was Isaac's medal — the one Goel had thrown away.