Chapter 11
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Saintess Gransesia (3)
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Recently, a figure drawing attention in the Talua Kingdom army had emerged.
It was Clay Banheart.
The one who had made a major contribution to resolving the recent assassination attempt on Duke Gail.
A scion of a fallen count family, who had been ignored until just recently, was now at the center of all the talk.
“Ever since he took down Byan Deolic, something’s felt off about him.”
“But is it really true that Clay Banheart defeated that traitor?”
In the process of solving the incident, he had even taken down Byan Deolic.
No one was unaware of Byan’s prowess as a genius swordsman, so his reputation could only soar higher.
“No way, it’s probably just rumors.”
“From what I know, Clay Banheart is at best an advanced Sword User. There’s no way he could beat Sir Deolic, who’s an advanced Sword Expert knight.”
The attention wasn’t a bad thing for Clay, but it also spawned those who envied him or spread malicious gossip.
But Clay had no time to waste on such trivial matters.
‘I’m gonna die!’
He was rolling through day after day without a moment’s rest.
Right now, Tedric Eaton stood before him, sword in hand, glaring sharply.
Any hint of sluggishness, and he’d attack without mercy.
“How long do you plan to rest, Sir Banheart?!”
Tedric Eaton’s shout echoed across the training grounds.
Tedric was inflexible by nature, but during training, it doubled at least.
‘Who knew he’d push me this relentlessly.’
Two weeks until the operation began.
In that span—long if long, short if short—he needed to grow stronger, even if just a little.
That’s why he’d asked for help from Tedric, the strongest knight he could turn to.
‘...At least it’s helpful enough to make the pain worth it.’
Clay caught his breath, rose to his feet, and raised his sword.
It was a stance he’d repeated countless times already.
Seeing it, Tedric narrowed his eyes and spoke.
“Learning a new swordsmanship isn’t bad, but first, you need to master the basics perfectly.”
“I know that.”
Over the past few days of training under Tedric, Clay had repeatedly practiced one technique from the Silver Star Sword.
Since it was a lost advanced form not even recorded anywhere, there was no risk of exposure.
“Then why keep doing something so foolish? Tell me. The you I know isn’t the type to act recklessly without thought.”
But from Tedric Eaton’s perspective, it was only natural to be bothered by Clay using strange swordsmanship.
Especially since it was far too advanced for a mere Sword User like Clay.
‘Though, strangely, there’s nothing wrong with the technique itself.’
It didn’t even use mana operation fully, yet the sword path was flawless.
A perfected sword art, refined mana flow.
It was utterly unlike a Sword User’s.
His untrained body and insufficient mana couldn’t keep up with the perfected technique.
Even Tedric, who had honed his sword for decades, had never seen such a case.
Normally, the body matured first, and the swordsmanship was refined over a lifetime.
“It might come in handy later.”
“Hmm.”
If Clay said that, it surely meant something.
Tedric nodded without pressing further.
‘He asked for my help to perfect those techniques.’
It wasn’t without its flaws, but Clay’s swordsmanship itself was undeniably complete.
So all that was left was to bridge the gap with his body, allowing him to wield it more maturely.
“Very well, I’ll respect your choice.”
“Thank you.”
“But keep in mind that means I won’t hold back either.”
Blue mana rose from Tedric’s sword like a haze.
Even suppressed as much as possible, the aura it emitted made Clay swallow dryly.
This was the power of an advanced Sword Expert.
‘If I’m scared of this, thinking about the enemies ahead... I can’t.’
Clay steadied his mind and raised his sword toward the calmly standing Tedric.
It was a technique he’d used many times already.
He held his sword horizontal and channeled mana into his legs.
‘At minimum, in these two weeks, I need to properly execute a few of the Silver Star Sword’s advanced forms.’
This one in particular was essential.
If the Dragon Calamity used the ‘dragon’s’ abilities, he’d absolutely need it.
* * *
“Sir Banheart...”
Michel watched Clay training with Tedric Eaton from afar on the grounds, then turned away.
‘I wonder if he’ll come today too.’
Ten days had passed since their first meeting with Clay.
In those ten days, Michel had continued investigating the silver pillar with Duke Gail’s help—just in case Clay’s words were lies, to find any traces.
But there were no special results.
‘Is what he said really true?’
At first, she thought it impossible.
But watching Clay’s actions afterward, she began to think it might be.
‘Praying eight hours a day.’
He truly visited the casket every day, praying as if speaking to the saintess.
For a full ten days, not just one or two.
‘In two days, the ambush operation begins...’
After six hours of daily training with Tedric, he spent all remaining time praying before the saintess’s casket.
Excluding meals and sleep, his days were filled with sparring and prayer.
Seeing his increasingly haggard face, Michel felt her own lips dry out instead.
‘Why go so far?’
What was he trying to prove?
And even if his words were true, how could someone like her possibly help?
“Disaster...”
Michel murmured unconsciously.
She had some inkling of the disaster Clay mentioned.
“Saintess Gransesia, what should I truly do?”
Back in her tent, Michel spoke to the ornate casket.
Naturally, no answer came.
* * *
‘I’m gonna die.’
I’d braced myself, but the past ten days had been hellish.
Mornings: prayers at the saintess’s casket.
Afternoons: spars with Tedric.
After spars: back to Michel’s tent for more prayers at the casket.
Meals squeezed in between, and sleep? Barely any.
‘But the prayers are finally...’
After hours upon hours at the casket—enough to make me sick of it—the long-awaited message appeared in the air.
[Playsibility has been achieved.]
[Divine Blood possessor prays 100 hours to Saintess Gransesia’s remains (Achieved)]
‘Yes!’
I cheered inwardly.
First playsibility condition cleared.
With shaking legs, I stood and approached Michel.
“Sister Michel.”
“...Yes.”
She looked at me with complicated eyes.
That gaze was practically a positive sign. It meant she was already half convinced.
‘Now that the first playsibility is done, shall we move to the next?’
The first was simple grind, but the real importance started from the second.
I cleared my throat and slowly opened my mouth.
“Through my prayers these past days, I received an answer from the saintess.”
“I-is that true?!”
“Yes. She gave a clear answer. On how to stop the disaster to come.”
“May I hear what method it is?”
Of course. She had to hear it.
“Eye of Simosa.”
Her eyes widened at my curt reply.
“To repel the disaster, the saintess said we need the Eye of Simosa.”
“No way... Is, is that really true?”
Saintess Gransesia Atel’s relic.
Beyond playsibility, it was something I absolutely needed to acquire to face the Dragon Calamity.
The synopsis said as much.
“Yes. She said to use the Eye of Simosa and your help, Sister Michel.”
“My help...”
She faltered, unable to continue.
As I’d expected, I waited silently for her words.
“...Even if Sir Banheart is right, I’d only hold you back. Our Atel family shares blood with the saintess, but we don’t inherit her power. She alone was extraordinary.”
Saintess Gransesia had closed her eyes centuries ago.
She lived alone until her final moments, childless. So the temple had no choice but to rely on her Atel descendants.
But in centuries, no one in the Atel family had been born with her Divine Blood.
They were called saintess’s descendants, but it was just a pretty shell.
“I’m just a priest with a bit more holy power than others.”
Saying that, she rose and approached the saintess’s casket.
She lightly placed her hand on the lid.
White holy power began flowing along the golden patterns on the casket.
“But if Sir Banheart’s words are true... I’ll have no choice but to make a decision.”
I’d been listening quietly, but the sight that followed made my eyes widen.
‘Wait, is that really...’
Sealed with holy magic, the casket’s spell unraveled under Michel’s holy power and slowly opened.
The lid parted gradually, soon revealing the interior fully.
Naturally, the saintess’s body lay inside.
Yes, remains dead for over centuries.
‘Impossible.’
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The saintess had died centuries ago.
Ample time for a human corpse to rot away, yet inside lay a woman looking peacefully asleep, as if just moments ago.
A young woman barely past her twenties.
Considering Gransesia Atel had died past seventy, it was absurd.
Without my setting-viewing ability, I wouldn’t have believed it.
The saintess’s remains, eyes closed as in sleep, defied the world’s common sense.
“Surprised?”
Michel’s voice snapped me back.
“Yes. Is that truly... Lady Gransesia?”
“Yes. The saintess attained eternal youth, her body unmarred by decay.”
Only then did I recall Saintess Gransesia’s epithet.
Eternal Star Maiden.
I’d thought it mere flair, but it embodied her power.
“That’s why Altair’s priests believe she didn’t die but merely slumbers, following her footsteps on pilgrimage. She might open her eyes any moment.”
Now I understood why they carried her casket on pilgrimage.
And that duty fell to her Atel descendants.
“As Sir Banheart kept praying to her, I agonized. You said God commanded Gransesia’s and my help.”
Saying so, he extended his hand toward the body in the casket.
He slowly removed the ring on her pale finger, embedded with a red gem.
“Sir Banheart, this is the Eye of Simosa you sought.”
Michel gazed at the ring briefly before offering it to me.
“If everything Sir Banheart says is true, then this ring is yours.”
As expected, the relic in the saintess’s casket was this red-gemmed ring, the Eye of Simosa.
The second condition for obtaining Divine Blood was now met.
‘...This is a hassle.’
But the moment I checked the Eye of Simosa’s settings, I couldn’t help but frown slightly.
An unexpected phrase was written there.