Father Eris stared at the young man in front of him—stunned, disbelieving—and fell into the longest silence since arriving in the Zijinghua Empire.
Then he spoke.
"Prince of Zijinghua… perhaps I truly misjudged you. You're not a holy son at all. Compared to you, even the lowest blasphemer dragged before the Inquisition would look like a gentle lamb."
Holy light surged in Eris's cloudy, aged eyes.
Clerics weren't known for killing, but that didn't mean they couldn't strike. The divine grace and holy light a Cardinal accumulated over a lifetime could, in an instant, burn the young man before him into ash.
Because in that moment, Eris felt threatened by Linen.
Not for his own sake—but for his church, and even for the god he had worshiped all his life.
Zijinghua was a nation that didn't believe in gods. Everyone knew that, and no church had ever complained.
In the eyes of clerics, calling lost lambs back to the gods was their duty. If everyone already had faith—if all lived in peace and comfort—then this wouldn't be the human realm. It would be fucking Eden. What would clerics even be needed for?
But Eris could feel it clearly:
Linen's "disbelief" was different from that of ordinary citizens.
For most Zijinghua people, "not believing" in gods meant something like: Sure, what you say makes sense, but I believe in Her Majesty.
For Linen, though, his disbelief was… literal.
He genuinely didn't believe.
Gods?
Some bullshit. Just powerful creatures.
So what? How many divisions do they have?
What can they give me?
Only someone who thought like that could listen to Eris lay out stakes and consequences—and then calmly say, I don't care.
Even the most heretical blasphemer still believed in a heaven where their enemies waited.
But Linen didn't disbelieve in that way. He denied the very concept of "gods" from the root.
Maybe Linen had planned this from the moment he had Novie invite them. From the beginning, he hadn't been calculating against three down-and-out, wandering Cardinal.
He'd been calculating against the gods behind them.
There was a phrase in the old eastern empires: A gentleman is not obligated to save.
Even a person of high virtue could refuse to rescue someone who might bring danger, and no one would blame them.
If the Cardinals—restricted as they were—chose to focus only on their own safety, nobody could fault them either.
But if a spotless god clearly had the power to save those soldiers—save everyone in this castle—
Would that god do it?
Linen had thrown that question at the three priests.
And now a single word rose in Eris's mind.
Devil.
Linen had committed no overt blasphemy. He simply treated gods the way he treated ordinary people.
And that was the most terrifying blasphemy of all.
Only a devil could regard gods with such casual indifference.
A person like that—alive—was a threat to the entire church, even to the Holy Kingdom.
Not to mention the fact that the young man before him was very likely to become the heir to one of the continent's strongest empires.
"Sorry, Father. If you don't intend to kill me, you should save your holy light."
Linen offered a trace of apology—only to make Eris even angrier, because that apology wasn't offered to the Holy Light God.
It was offered to him.
And besides, Eris truly couldn't kill him here.
Because the young man before him was doing redemption's work with a devil's heart—and it was the only way to protect those children to the greatest extent. It was even the only way for the three of them to walk away alive.
He was using them because he thought gods were useful.
Understanding that made Eris feel his aged heart thump a little too fast.
In the end, struggle flickered again and again in his muddy eyes.
Finally, Father Eris compromised.
"You win, Your Highness Linen. But I still must discuss this with my colleagues. I need their permission."
"I don't think we need to discuss it anymore…"
Linen spread his hands and pointed behind Eris.
Eris turned with the gesture—and nearly passed out from sheer fury at what he saw.
"What the hell are you two idiots doing?!"
Anel, the Earth Church Cardinal, had already cut his palm and begun chanting the blessing scripture. When he saw Eris turn around, the old priest wore a kindly smile.
"The Earth Mother God will not refuse any child who needs help."
"I refuse your— …ugh. Forget it."
Why bother arguing with idiots?
Eris snapped his glare toward Moden, who was pulling out consecrated mithril for the Moon Goddess's blessing.
"Moden! Fine, Anel's a moron, but you too?!"
Moden gave him an airy grin and waved at his old friend.
"Relax. Stop being so serious. We're old enough that in a few years we'll be refined into relics and boiled into holy water anyway—why worry so much? Besides, hunting heretics is the Inquisition's job. The Hound Sisters' job. Let the young handle young people's problems."
He laughed.
"And hey—less anger means the Holy Light Lord might bless your old bones with health and a longer life."
He grinned again, almost shamelessly.
"Also, I'm really looking forward to my new church in the city."
Eris opened his mouth, then in the end only snorted and said nothing more.
He simply reached beneath his wide priest robe and pulled out an ancient parchment tome.
A holy relic artifact—the Book of Radiance. A special item used to beseech a god's protection.
"The empire thanks you for your open-mindedness, Father," Linen said, bowing.
Eris's face stayed cold as illuminating holy light gathered in his palm.
"Don't thank me, Your Highness Linen. This way, as thanks for aiding our preaching, the three of us old men no longer owe you anything."
"No. I owe you, Father," Linen said sincerely.
Eris: ?
The priest only snorted again.
He had no idea what this brat meant, but at least he still had a conscience.
Under Novie and the others' anxious gazes, three Cardinal—men who could live in luxury and supreme honor in any country—formed a triangular array and enclosed Linen in the center.
The Holy Light God's radiance, the Moon Goddess's consecrated mithril, and the Earth Mother God's gift of blood filled the ritual circle beneath Linen's feet.
Novie and the others stood guard, tense, afraid a Mana Spirit would suddenly appear and interrupt the rite.
Then—
The greatest blasphemer they'd ever seen, and the man who had just received the blessings of three gods at once—
Linen Norton stepped out.
"That's it?" Hysteria rubbed her eyes, still a little red from the glare of holy light.
"What did you expect, girl?" Father Eris snorted.
The reason it took so long to produce a "blessed one" in the Holy Kingdom was mostly preparation: propaganda, fanfare, spreading the "miracle." They'd start a year in advance if they could. But the actual blessing itself was a five-minute affair.
A cleric above bishop rank poured divine grace into you, and then—off you went.
If you endured it, you were the chosen one.
If you couldn't, you exploded and died. Everyone gasped through the usual process—the goddess has manifested!Heavens, so-and-so was the devil's child all along!—and then life went on as if nothing had happened.
In this contradictory ritual, Eris himself couldn't even say whether he wanted Linen to succeed…
But the process went even more smoothly than he'd imagined.
Linen—already granted the full suite of dragonblood blessings by the Empress using the former monarch's power (The Yellow King's Blessing)—accepted most of the three gods' power with ease.
As for the remainder—
It vanished without anyone noticing, quietly devoured by Linen's right hand.
"However, Your Highness," Moden said, shoving Eris aside and sidling up to Linen with an ingratiating smile, "the blessing and your help with our preaching—let's call it even."
"Our mouths are sealed; we won't go around talking. But if the Inquisition ever asks… I mean, if—just in case…"
Linen nodded, understanding.
"Then it was I who deceived the three of you—concealing the fact that I'd already been blessed by other gods—and I forced you to bless me."
Moden nodded in satisfaction.
"Is the Inquisition really that scary?" Novie couldn't help asking, curious.
After all, these were Cardinals. Even if they lacked real authority, being this afraid felt… undignified.
Moden only gave a wry smile.
"Your Highness Novie, it seems you don't understand the Holy Kingdom's power structure. The Inquisition, in theory, has no authority to judge clerics above bishop rank directly. What's terrifying are their claws—the Hound Sisters. They're the gods' razors in the human world."
He thought for a moment.
"Your Highness Novie… do you know Zijinghua's Shadow Knights?"
Novie nodded, understanding dawning.
Not only did she know them—at Linen's direction, she was one of them, and a captain besides. Over the past few months, she'd learned plenty about that organization's filth behind its infamous name as the Empress's loyal white glove and secret police.
She had once witnessed a Shadow Knight captain break all ten of a prisoner's fingers one by one simply because the man wouldn't talk.
If the Hound Sisters were comparable to Shadow Knights…
That really would be terrifying—
"The Shadow Knights are a charity organization compared to the Hound Sisters," Moden said.
Novie: "…"
Moden sighed, his smile turning bitter.
"Especially in recent years. More and more freaks are coming out of the Hound Sisters. Your Highness Linen should avoid them if possible—especially that new—ugh!"
Eris stomped hard on his companion's toe, shutting him up.
Then he turned back to Linen.
"Your Highness. We've done all we can. The rest depends on you—even if the crown of justice will never be reserved for you."
Linen nodded.
What he needed most to deal with the shadow singularity was time.
Mother might have to go all-out to maintain the city-grade barrier, but that also meant the red dragon screen was saturated with her presence. Mordiana might be proud—even arrogant—but she wasn't an idiot.
Facing a Red Dragon's obvious, gaping "weakness," she would be even more watchful. Her attention would stay fixed on her standoff with the Empress.
In her eyes, Linen and the others charging the singularity would look like rats launching a suicide raid on a granary guarded by a cat.
They had to break the singularity fast—before she realized something was off.
"Linen, wait!"
Just as Linen was about to loosen part of the barrier, Elena stepped forward, eyes firm.
"Let me go with you. Teacher taught me how to use those weapons too. I won't hold you back!"
"Hah, Ellie, are you joking?" Hysteria's red eyes widened.
"Support Arcana Mages should stay in the rear and do their job. Most of those Mana Spirits are weak to fire—no matter how you look at it, it's more suitable for Princess Hysteria to take the field, right? Don't let my looks fool you. An imperial princess has a few trump cards!"
Watching them refuse to yield, Linen only shook his head.
"Elena is a support Arcana Mage and can repair artifacts. You stay in the rear. That's non-negotiable." His gaze shifted to Hysteria. "And as for you, Your Highness… I'm not interested in triggering an international diplomatic incident because you get hurt. Sorry. You stay too."
Seeing Brother reject the two of them in succession, Novie quietly stepped behind him. She kept a calm face, but inside she was blooming with smug delight.
Hmph. Pathetic little schoolgirl sisters—useless.
Even if you get to be around Brother every day at the academy, what does it matter?
Even if I let you run ninety-nine steps ahead, you're still just losing heroines.
Brother finally gets it. The only one who can stay by his side is me.
In strength, Novie was close to Tier-4—outstanding among them all. In status, as a Shadow Knight captain, this kind of risky mission was her duty.
But she didn't even get to bask in it for three seconds before Linen turned to her, voice leaving no room for argument.
"Novie…"
"Don't worry, Brother." Her eyes went soft, dreamy. "Even if it's the underworld, Novie will bear it with you."
"No." Linen pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I mean you're staying too."
"Huh?"
It hit like a club to the head.
"Why?!"
Linen sighed again, rubbing his forehead.
"The moment I open the barrier, Mana Spirits will seize the chance to pour into the castle. Quinn's about two breaths away from slaughtering those nobles out of sheer rage. You want the priests commanding the defense?"
Novie looked around—then despaired as she realized that among everyone present, she truly was the only suitable choice.
A small, disgruntled whine slipped out of her, like a kitten.
"But, Brother… you going alone is too dangerous!"
Linen smiled faintly.
"I'm not fighting alone. Just trust me."
The three girls jolted.
So Onii-chan / Elias / small fry meant… as long as we're in the rear supporting him, we're still with him—helping him the most?
So happy / what an honor / fine, he gets it!
Seeing them stop protesting, Linen nodded. Then he turned, lowering his voice.
"Miss Teresia. Ready?"
"Hehe. Of course. Though if I were there in person, I'd enjoy it more."
"And you really haven't forgotten my real job."
"But I'm not like that little girl. If it really is the underworld, I'll ditch you and run without hesitation, you know~"
"As you should."
His badge vibrated with Teresia's eager voice. Linen only smiled.
He knew the plot better than most, and he'd killed a Mana Spirit with his own hands—but that had been a trick, relying on the Terminal Bullet.
If you wanted a true expert in killing Mana Spirits, Miss Teresia was a better pick than even the priests.
After all, thanks to the Tower of Chronomancy, the first Mana Spirit she ever killed…
Had been her own father.
Before she joined the Tower of Chronomancy and rose to fame as an Arcana Mage Slayer, Miss Teresia's true title had been—
Teresia the Mana Spirit Slayer.
The blood of the Mana Spirits formed from her father, friends, and brothers burned on her fingertips every moment.
No one understood better than she did how to slaughter these monsters efficiently—and what twisted countermeasures their warped minds would devise.
Linen looked at the elites who'd already cleared the Mana Spirits inside the castle, familiarized themselves with their guns, and now waited for his order.
"Everyone, we're moving."
"You don't need to follow me out through the opening. Just hold the gap so Mana Spirits can't flood in."
"Don't worry about me."
He smiled.
"If I fail, we die together anyway."
No one laughed at the joke. The soldiers only nodded in silence.
Some, who'd steeled themselves for death, let a shadow of disappointment flicker in their eyes at being unable to charge out with His Highness Linen.
Then Linen turned to face the scarlet barrier—and beyond it, the monster legion that seemed to sense something. They had stopped tearing at each other. They crouched, coiling to strike.
Countless eyes—blood-red, crazed, feral, hopeless—fixed on Linen as he slowly raised his right arm.
He smiled, spread his five fingers, and gently clenched them into a fist.
"Barrier—open."
A tiny rift split the red dragon barrier.
The next instant, monsters and gunfire roared as one.
A slender figure broke through the seal and plunged straight in.
"Lily—draw your sword!"
---
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