Chapter 109
Chapter 109
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 109
Chapter Title: The Pope's Request
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Felice di Eberder Valus.
Those bearing the surname Valus were originally commoners without a house or nobles who had discarded their own houses to become sons of the faith, taking Valterus's name.
Valus, derived from Valterus.
Philiche himself had started as a commoner, honed his extraordinary swordsmanship to reach master level, and become a powerhouse.
Though his skills had dulled with age, he could still hold his own in a balanced duel against a master bearing the legendary title of Guardian Sword, the pinnacle reserved for Carpe's greatest knight.
In any case, he was a legendary figure of both Carpe and the Church.
So why had such a great man come seeking him out?
That was what Kallias wondered.
"There is someone who wishes to see you. An old friend, comrade, and woman like family to me."
"You're speaking of Sullivian, I presume."
"Oh? You know of her?"
Of course he did.
The special bond between a noblewoman who had joined the Church and a knight from commoner stock was still spoken of as a shocking and beautiful tale.
Had he not ascended to the papacy at such a young age, things might not have turned out that way between them.
"But why would Sullivian want to see me?"
They had never even met.
Why was the Pope trying to arrange a meeting between him and Sullivian?
"She regards Esther as her own daughter, her granddaughter even..."
The Pope glanced at Kallias.
A notorious wastrel, a noble with a terribly improper history with women.
Yet this was a young man whose rumors were beginning to shift.
'Noble birth, no high position. Swordsmanship outstanding enough. Perfect son-in-law material.'
Surely, even Sullivian—who doted on Esther to death—couldn't easily refuse if shown a prospective son-in-law.
That was the Pope's inner thinking.
Kallias didn't grasp it quite that far, but he had a rough sense of the situation.
'Using me as bait to meet Sullivian, is it.'
It didn't matter either way.
Meeting Sullivian or forging ties with the Pope were both good things regardless.
Kallias himself wanted to meet her someday anyway.
"Understood."
"Really? The rumors paint you as ridiculously picky and narrow-minded, but you're not!"
"Mere rumors."
"Yes, yes. I saw your performance well at the Sword Dance Assembly too. Shall we walk a bit?"
"Yes."
As they strolled the palace corridors,
the Pope shared many stories with him.
Most concerned his romance with Sullivian.
And the reason he had to become Pope, which severed his bond with her.
Now, in his old age nearing death, regrets had surged, and he'd tried to mend ties, but she wouldn't meet him at all, leaving him helpless.
"Time ran out. When young, time was all we had in excess—no, even then I always made excuses, claiming busyness and prioritizing other matters. Back then, I thought it was right."
But looking back, it wasn't.
"It's like tempering swordsmanship. You don't train when time allows—you carve out time somehow. I should have done the same..."
He regretted not having done so.
Kallias walked the corridors silently, listening alongside him.
It felt strangely novel.
Hearing the stories he'd created,
the complex relationships he'd woven, straight from the characters' mouths...
'No words for it.'
But he didn't dwell long.
He mustn't immerse himself in this world's events and characters.
Kallias guarded against that more than anyone, keeping his distance.
Even if he raged or grieved alongside them,
in the end, only self-contempt and self-reproach returned.
'The blood of Jerban runs cold and hardened.'
He had to keep it from heating, always cold and fierce like a blizzard.
That was how he preserved his pride, how he avoided losing himself.
"You— just to be sure—aren't married, right?"
"No."
"Good."
"But I do have a daughter."
"!!"
The Pope halted abruptly.
His wrinkled face creased in shock.
No marriage, but a daughter? What kind of man is this? his expression said.
But he soon nodded.
"A real man does what he must. Better than me. Is she adopted?"
"My own blood."
"...I see."
He smacked his lips awkwardly.
"Keep it secret from Sullivian..."
"I can't do that."
"Right? Just testing. No helping it. Does Esther know?"
"...She does."
Why does that matter? He swallowed the question rising to his throat.
"Matters between man and woman sort themselves out. No need for old folks meddling. Still, a daughter—surprising. How old?"
"Twelve. She'll turn thirteen after this winter."
"...And your age?"
"Twenty-six."
"Whoa... You rascal. A proper rascal!"
Kallias said nothing.
Not sarcasm—just genuine astonishment.
He even looked envious in a way.
"I'd like to meet her sometime. In the north? Or the capital?"
"She's with me at my capital estate."
"Good. I'll visit one day. Got to give the girl my own blessing."
"Thank you."
The Pope's sword blessing.
Grand words, but it simply checked for sword talent.
If some innate flaw existed, it could heal it and impart a bit of swordsmanship— a golden opportunity for Emily.
"Speaking of which, your swordsmanship is quite impressive."
"Thank you."
"I won't ask how you learned the Stella Saintess's style."
"..."
"Teaching it to your daughter?"
"I'm not."
"Why not."
No need, was his conclusion.
"The Stella Saintess's swordsmanship is fundamentally for the weak."
She had been weak, after all.
Flower Breaking Path, White Mist, and even Piana Blossom.
Swords for the weak to grow strong.
That was Silver Flower Sword Wave.
So he hadn't passed it on.
"And?"
"My daughter isn't weak. She's a born genius. Silver Flower Sword Wave doesn't suit her. It would be poison."
Emily's weakness stemmed solely from her blocked sacred blood.
Everything else excelled.
Wit, perseverance, thirst to grow strong.
No need, then.
Too excellent, in fact—Silver Flower Sword Wave ill fit Emily.
"Hmm..."
The Pope stopped, facing Kallias with a grave expression.
"This request comes as Pope. Will you hear it?"
"Yes."
"The Stella Saintess's swordsmanship must continue in Carpe, by any means. You're Church-affiliated, so fine—but if you die, it's lost forever."
"..."
"Teach it. Pass it on."
An irrefutable command.
And understandable.
"To whom should I teach it?"
"Who knows. Can't interfere that far. When the time comes, pass it to a child you like. Doesn't even have to be Church."
"Then."
"How about teaching the Queen?"
Kallias flinched.
The Queen, of all people.
Never considered it.
"...The Queen?"
"Count."
"Yes."
"The Queen hangs by a thread. Could be assassinated anytime. I live, Sullivian lives—for now. Who knows after? Old men's lives don't last millennia."
No grounds to refuse.
Preserving the Silver Flower Sword Wave's lineage was a Church imperative, by any means. As a Church member, Kallias couldn't refuse.
'Master and disciple with the Queen, then.'
Unpleasant to share the hard-won Silver Flower Sword Wave with a stranger.
But the Queen? Forming master-disciple ties with her appealed.
Couldn't toy with her lightly, but immense influence possible—useful when challenging the Empire later.
"I ask you."
"Yes."
Queen Clara would wield Silver Flower Sword Wave fittingly.
* * *
Afterward,
the Pope and Kallias arrived at Sullivian's residence. Knights guarded the entrance; the moment he appeared, the female knights drew swords.
"We absolutely cannot let you pass."
"Heh heh heh, try and stop me!"
"..."
Kallias was utterly baffled.
Female knights daring to draw on the Pope—and the Pope facing them as if routine.
Is this right?
Far beyond the minor scuffle he'd imagined.
Unlike Kallias's confusion, the Pope advanced smiling.
Dodging the knights' swords playfully as if on a daily stroll,
he tapped them sheath-first; they collapsed like newborn foals, legs buckling.
'Impressive.'
That was the Pope's swordsmanship.
Fivefold Destruction Sword.
A style that shattered the five viscera and six bowels.
Similar to Piana Blossom in principle, but more direct—invading to destroy inner flows.
Those female knights' training was no trifle. Above Allen.
Yet before the Pope, mere children—felled easily.
"Heh heh heh! Train harder!"
"N-No... we can't!"
"Please..."
They begged, but he ignored.
"No one can bar my path!"
"..."
His unstoppable advance befitted the Valterus Church's pinnacle—but considering the destination, pure admiration soured.
Thrilled, he flung open the door; a hulking man awaited, drawing sword.
"No, why are you here?"
The giant wore precious black-iron plate and wielded a greatsword.
"Asked to block Your Holiness."
"That ironclad old bat. That's why I fell for her!"
Kallias's head spun.
Blockers and breakthrough alike—no novices at clashes.
Casual banter into combat—absurd.
"Jerban, watch closely. This is why the Church made me Pope."
"Full force!!"
The obstructing knight raised his greatsword high; sudden darkness fell.
'Crazy.'
Recognized the giant now by his ability.
Pitch-Black Night, Black Knight Libayden.
The lowest of the five masters, the Black Knight.
Kwaaaa—!
Darkness engulfed all; black auras gathered before him.
Crimson-eyed steeds of black smoke manifested.
A spectacle.
'Can't win that...'
Kallias sighed at the black demonic horses.
Genius by a hair, draw with saintess candidate—even so, masters were another breed.
The snorting black horses, intent on trampling all—surviving seemed best.
"Slow!"
But the Pope sauntered as if to a fair, evading demonic horses, parrying Libayden's sword, then drew to strike one point.
Boom—!
Ripples spread from the Pope's thrust.
Crack. Cracracrack!! Shatter!!!
The Black Knight's darkness shattered like frail glass.
Thud!
Libayden knelt on one knee.
Defeated in one strike.
'...'
Immensely strong.
Overwhelmingly so.
"Come on. And you—quit with the useless talk. Why drag one-on-one duels into this? Fool keeps bringing it up despite warnings. Battlefield tricks won't work on another master."
Smacking Libayden's head with his sheath, the Pope urged Kallias on.
Kallias glanced at the revered master Black Knight Libayden, then followed.
"Now be careful. That black one's no issue. The real trouble starts here. Even I struggle against the old bat's sacred alchemy."
With those words,
clank.
Metallic gears sounded.
Rumble.
Whirr.
Eerie noises followed.
The scenery flipped suddenly.
"Whoa, illusion array? Changed defenses again!? Said today or tomorrow—how diligent!!"
The Pope vanished into a swirl of light.
"?"
Kallias frowned, reaching for his sword in subspace.
But soon, he beheld an unexpected scene.
Cozy campfire glow.
Soft red light lit the room; an elderly woman lay in bed with incense burner, glasses on, reading a book.
"You've come."
She was royal blood, the current king's cousin, Church cardinal.
Lutz Paladin too, sacred alchemist dubbed mother of all Church.
Sullivian von Olid Bright.
Great-Aunt Sullivian.