Peek-a-boo (4)

"Ah, are you kidding me! This is NOT okay!"

Once again today, screams rang out through the Blue Living Quarters.

"Isaac, you lunatic—!"

"What kind of psycho plants a bomb in the bathroom—argh!"

"Hey, the bathroom would've been merciful! There was poison gas in my pillow! I almost ascended to heaven in my sleep!"

"You almost went in your sleep? I almost went drinking a glass of water, you son of a—!"

Shuri simply stared at the ceiling as the wails of despair echoed from every corner of the dormitory.

Hmm. So... is this genuinely the sound of priests' quarters? Not some den of rabid mercenaries?

Dazed by profanity the likes of which he'd never heard in his life, Shuri glanced out the window.

Ah. Several priests were hurrying past, visibly appalled.

Yep. That settles it.

This really is the Holy See. It really, truly is.

Meanwhile, the mastermind behind this pandemonium sat there calmly chewing on a piece of bread, cheeks puffing in and out like a hamster.

"Mmmf-moochuin scheju-ni mam-e an deuna (You don't like the personalized training schedule?)"

...THIS is a personalized training schedule?

Planting bombs in toilets, stuffing gas into pillows, lacing the water with cyanide—that counts as training?

"Everyone lets their guard down at different times. Training your focus even while resting is essential. For catching people off guard, bombs and poison are the best tools, of course."

You absolute menace, the rest of the world calls that ASSASSINATION.

But Isaac clicked his tongue at his team members, who were all sporting deep dark circles as if they still weren't satisfied.

He'd spent a full two weeks drilling them in everything from stamina to holy arts, yet the real problem was their flabby, undisciplined minds.

Granted, considering what Isaac had put them through, it was only natural that none of their sanity survived—

'I did all of this when I was far younger. Why can't they?'

The Demon King was a boomer.

'I'm even burning my own holy power to heal them afterward, you know. Do they want to die?'

And not just any boomer—a truly incurable one.

But Isaac's eyes sharpened into something even more axe-like.

'Squeezing out holy power is one thing, but at the end of the day, these are the ones who'll belong to Blue.'

He hadn't divided the teams with the families' connections into account for nothing.

Well—most of them were scrubs, and none of them were serious candidates to become actual Blue bishops. They'd forge ties with Blue, exploit them politically, or aim for just enough rank to benefit their houses. On this continent, even a mid-level priest could walk anywhere and receive excellent terms and treatment.

Blue in particular had an image of steadfast devotion—become a 5th-Tier priest of Blue, and virtually any business deal was a free pass. Case closed.

Anyone schooled in Blue's doctrines of patience, diligence, and honesty was considered trustworthy as a business partner, you see.

Simply put, on this continent, faith was a tool for reading people—and could even serve as a certified letter of guarantee. So these clowns were presumably all sprinting toward a modest 4th or 5th Tier, and...

'What the hell would I do with THAT?'

'You think I'm going to tolerate a bunch of dead weight sitting under me?!'

'Blue needs to get fat and plump—how else am I supposed to stick multiple straws in it!'

Perhaps he'd read that look in Isaac's eyes, because the color drained from Shuri's face.

Of course, the priests of Blue leveling up was a good thing for him too, as a guardian of the faith.

And he knew exactly how terrifying Isaac's training abilities were.

How? Because he'd spent ten years experiencing them firsthand!

'Well, there are plenty of oddities.'

When Isaac had mentioned the Skeleton King's exorcism arts to the bishop, the man had wept with gratitude, calling him a genius, and Isaac was thoroughly versed in ancient high-tier holy arts as well.

Though the question of why someone who knew so much couldn't actually use any of it remained a mystery bordering on the grotesque to this very day.

Regardless—the sight of him drafting personalized plans on parchment was deeply unsettling.

Why each individual schedule included entries like 'die falling off a cliff,' 'die to a demon,' 'die beaten to death,' 'die, whatever the cause'... Shuri genuinely could not fathom it.

Isaac's perfectionism was also bizarrely catching.

No, seriously—Isaac wasn't joking around. That bastard was a perfectionist to the level of clinical compulsion. It wasn't for nothing that Shuri had once fled to the Academy in tears.

His pupils had no choice but to tremble.

"Um... just, hypothetically. What exactly did you set as the apprentices' target rank...?"

"10TH TIER!!!!"

Are you planning to turn every last one of them into the Pope, you maniac?!

But Isaac was dead serious.

'I refused adoption into the Papal house. You think I can save face if my people lose to the Papal ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠house, huh?'

That said, Isaac did understand one thing: realistic goals existed in this world.

"Well, at minimum, my goal is to make everyone 6th Tier by the time apprenticeship ends."

Shuri doubted his own ears.

What?

6th Tier by the END of apprenticeship??

"Let me be clear—if we don't take first place, everyone runs together."

6th Tier meant senior high clergy. Was this man genuinely insane?

Let the record show: they were apprentices! Leaving aside the Five Great Ducal Houses, an ordinary noble who reached 4th Tier was hailed as a prodigy—and these were apprentices!

"Who the hell could even keep up with a schedule this insane in the first place?!"

"Me."

It wasn't technically a lie.

Back when Isaac was a Skeleton, he'd done far worse than this to reach the 10th Tier.

Besides, Isaac was running an even harsher schedule on himself, so Shuri couldn't exactly argue.

'When he was teaching me, too, that bastard studied holy arts ten times harder than anyone......'

The freak genuinely believed that to trash someone's work, you had to read every single work they'd ever written. That obsessiveness was what forged the Skeleton King—and what made even the gods sick of him.

Isaac sighed.

'Well, honestly, the reason I'm doing all this is to harvest holy power.'

To smoothly milk holy power out of people in direct combat, he needed shields who could hold the line for him.

And thanks to Isaac's training, everyone had risen a fair amount of water......

"Yo, knock it off! We don't need to work THIS hard!"

Right. It was about time they got exhausted enough to start whining.

"Hate to admit it, but yeah, our skills improved thanks to you! At this rate we could actually look forward to the remaining Pentagons, but......"

"Exactly! Two Kings is plenty for us!"

"We already bagged one, and they'll practically hand us the second in Blue even if we phone it in!"

At that, Shuri's brow furrowed.

Not wrong, exactly—but assuming Blue would just hand them a King as a matter of course left a strangely sour taste in his mouth?

Still, they were merely being realistic, not malicious. Though it seemed at least one listener found it rather distasteful.

"Ha. TWO Kings? Are you kidding? A real man takes all FIVE."

Five... FIVE?!

"You're insane—Niger's team and Hawk's team are in this thing. You really think that's possible? rein in the greed!"

"I have no patience for cowards who sneer and write things off before even trying! And I refuse to associate with losers whose mindset isn't to produce the best possible result every single time!"

Well, from Isaac's perspective too, it would be a problem if these guys scored just barely. He could drag the team evaluation up himself, sure—but the number of people allowed to directly participate in the execution ceremony was the top twenty! And of those, the executioner would be exactly one!

'Besides, the more allies I have lying in wait, the easier the rescue gets!!'

Did anyone seriously think extracting a subordinate from a pit crawling wall-to-wall with Red Faith inquisitors would be easy?

But the Blue teams, thoroughly spent, flopped down as if to say the whole ship could sink for all they cared.

"The paladins will handle all the dirty work. Why should elites like us break a sweat?"

"That's enough, pipsqueak. Thanks, but go work hard by yourself. There's zero chance of us flunking out, after all."

Right. They wouldn't flunk out.

And no wonder—the Pentagon exam order was White, Gold, Blue, Black, Red. And the final Pentagon, Red's, was the one where defeat meant outright failure.

However, if your scores in the preceding exams were good enough, even a failure wouldn't send you back to the Academy.

'With a minimum of two Kings in hand, even a fail gets offset.'

And since most of the participants belonged to the Five Faiths' factions, they'd bank at least two Kings before the final exam anyway.

Which meant there was no reason to fear Red's Pentagon at all. In a word: no need to try that hard.

"Priests don't even need to use their bodies, after all~"

But Isaac curled the corners of his mouth into an adorably vicious grin.

"Did I mention? The next slot is going to be Red's Pentagon. It'd be rather inconvenient for you big brothers if you didn't listen to me, no?"

The team members burst out laughing.

"Ha! Quit spouting nonsense. The Pentagon order is the sacred, time-honored history and tradition of the Holy Empire. You think it'll change? Not even if a Cardinal came here himself!"

"If it changes, YOU'RE the Cardinal grandpa and our big bro here is God."

Right. As if it would ever change.

And yet.

"Guys! It's a disaster!"

"Isaac was right! The exam order changed! The next test is Red's Faith!"

"WHAT?!"

What kind of bolt-from-the-blue nonsense is this?!

"R-right now! Cardinal Sephet of Red went straight to the Gold Cardinal and had it switched!"

They stared at Isaac, gooseflesh crawling up their arms.

Isaac grinned.

"What did I tell you? Ah—good thing Cardinal Red is such a wonderful person, huh. You all survived."

The Blue teams, who'd been coasting toward an easy finish, plunged into full meltdown.

No, seriously—what the hell did this guy DO?

'Don't tell me Cardinal Red actually changed the exam order just because Isaac asked?'

The sacred, time-honored history and tradition of the Holy Empire—in one stroke??

And Red doesn't even get along with Blue, of all factions?

"What did you DO!!"

"Now, now—time to change how you address me, no? We agreed on what to call me if I was right, remember? Grandpa? Elder? Big bro?"

"......"

"Come on, say it. Out loud."

Son of a—!

Faced with the Blue team's collective despair, Isaac answered only with a wide, gleaming grin.

"WHAT?! Red's Pentagon got moved up in the order?!"

Over at the Red team's grounds, the unexpected news had thrown everyone into an uproar.

"Cardinal Sephet really went and had it out with the Gold Cardinal over this?"

"All because of a single request from Isaac Eshua? What kind of nonsense is..."

In truth, the person most furious about this whole situation was Niger, the one delivering the news.

Niger was left utterly speechless, breath failing him.

Entertaining? ENTERTAINING?

He granted a rival's request for a reason as flimsy as THAT?

His father hadn't become the head of the faith of torture and interrogation for nothing.

A man more earnest than anyone about the Demon King's subjugation—cruel, cold-blooded, a human who had cast aside even his own children without a flicker of warmth.

He never acted without a reason.

Which meant Niger had every reason to be on edge.

'He seemed to be taking an unusual interest in Isaac Eshua, but this......'

He even changed the exam assignment for him?!

It galled him that everything went Isaac's way—but honestly, this worked in his favor.

"It was originally one-on-one duels, but it's been changed to team battles."

And their opponents?

'As expected of Father.'

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

Who'd have thought he'd hand me an opportunity like this on a silver platter!

'The opponents are the Blue team, and their captain is Shuri Eshua? Easiest meal of my life.'

Red, the faith of torture and interrogation, was the supreme faith when it came to martial arts and one-on-one combat.

And Blue?

Niger knew those bastards' abilities better than anyone.

They'd been his personal meal tickets since Academy days. Miserable wretches who couldn't manage a single act of defiance no matter how he tormented them.

"I have no idea what he was thinking, asking to move Red's Faith up the schedule—but those guys only have one King. Without two, they're guaranteed failure and elimination. He's dug his own grave."

Niger was seething, yet he smiled instead.

Hadn't Father said it himself?

That in Red's Pentagon, he was free to attack Isaac—just make sure the boy revealed his strength.

'Right. This works out perfectly. No need to wait for the Gold Pentagon. I'll kill him myself in THIS one.'

In the Pentagons, even maiming a person was written off as an accident.

A direct-combat format, here and now—this was his chance for revenge.

'Isaac Eshua has some skill, sure, but he thinks he can take down thirty healthy members of Red single-handedly?'

Let the record show: the Red team was an elite unit that had trained together since childhood.

Well, rumor had it screaming could be heard from the Blue Living Quarters, so they'd apparently trained hard in their own way... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but so what?

The only ones worth anything on that team were Isaac and Shuri. Even at their best, what could two men possibly do against thirty of Red's Faith?

'I'm going to have so much fun playing with them.'

Yes. That was what he believed.

That was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what he believed—

"Alright, Red's test begins. Ready, you dogs?"

"Grrrrrr."

"......???"

In the royal training grounds where Red's Pentagon was underway, the Red team was visibly baffled by... whatever the hell the Blue team's vibe was supposed to be.

"Wh-what... what is wrong with them?"

The other teams who'd come to spectate murmured among themselves as well.

But Niger was stunned for an entirely different reason. The transformed Blue team was one thing, but......

'Wh—what is.'

The examination grounds were in an uproar. The priests, certainly—and even Cardinal Red, and for that matter Cardinal Gold himself, looked completely nonplussed.

Cardinal Red, who had been smiling, was sweating buckets, his face caught somewhere between amusement and agony.

"Hmm... don't tell me the 'entertaining thing' he promised... was THIS?"

His face said he had anticipated none of it. The imperial family in attendance and every priest present buzzed with confusion.

"Good heavens—why is HE over there?!"

At one priest's cry, Niger finally couldn't take it anymore and jabbed a finger at the Blue team.

"THAT'S what I want to know, damn it! Why is KINA BERITH on the Blue team!!"

At the pointed finger, Kina Berith glared back with visible displeasure.

He rubbed his eyes and looked again, but no matter how many times he blinked, there stood Kina Berith of Blue, sash draped over his shoulder, right beside Isaac Eshua.

Glued to Isaac's side, no less.

Isaac beamed sweetly at the flustered referee.

"One of our team members came down with an upset stomach, you see. I rushed to find a replacement to fill our numbers, but I was told substitutes must be apprentice-rank, so I brought one from the apprentice pool. That shouldn't be a problem, should it?"

DAMN IT!!! Since when is Kina Berith "apprentice-rank"?!

And the Gold Faith's affinity with the Red Faith was downright rotten to begin with!

'More importantly—why is Kina Berith on the Blue team at all?'

What exactly is going on between him and Isaac?

The Gold Cardinal's eyebrows—having planned to use Red's Pentagon to kill Isaac—twitched violently.

Yet Isaac, the object of every eye in the arena, merely snickered. And Whisper chirped up, practically vibrating with excitement.

Yes. That was exactly what this was.

Meanwhile—whether he knew it or not—Kina Berith looked at the Red team with utter contempt and turned to Isaac for confirmation.

"If I take care of those brats for you, you really will study with me and teach me that technique. Right?"

"Yep. I'll study with you real good."

"Good. No take-backs."

Kina Berith cracked his knuckles, one by one.

Watching him, Niger broke into a cold sweat—and Isaac simply smiled, slow and wide.

Ah, you blockheaded priests.

'Raising holy power really is this easy, huh.'