Chapter 27: Infinite Magic
"Antirin." Lucian decided a change of subject was in order. "I'd like to go outside for a walk."
"Outside?"
"Yes." He nodded. "I've come all this way to the Theocracy. I can't spend the whole visit in the sacred ground. I want to see how people actually live here."
That much was true.
The murals had given him a more immediate sense of the Theocracy's history, but he wanted to see with his own eyes what this country — built by his former guildmates — actually looked like now.
Antirin was quiet for a moment.
Then she put the Rubik's Cube away. The large scythe had vanished at some point as well.
"All right."
She reached out and took his hand, naturally, as though it were the obvious thing to do.
The hand still carried that faint coolness, but it was steadying in a way he hadn't expected. Lucian blinked and made no move to pull free.
"Let's go."
* * *
When they stepped out of the sacred ground, the sunlight outside was just right.
The Theocracy's streets were nothing like the royal capital. The stone paving was laid flat and even. The houses along both sides were neat, their walls painted a clean white, the windowsills dressed with flowers of every color.
The air carried a faint fragrance — something floral mixed with the smell of baking bread.
The streets had people in them without feeling crowded. The expressions on people's faces were something Lucian rarely saw in the Kingdom: something settled, something easy, something that said tomorrow would be better.
"Where does little Lucian want to go?"
Antirin's voice came from above him, carrying the same cool, unhurried tone as always.
Lucian thought about it. "Anywhere. Just walking."
They went past the fountain square, through the temple district, along the commercial street. Antirin didn't say much, only occasionally stopping to look at a shop front. Lucian didn't say much either, only looking quietly at this country that felt both familiar and entirely foreign.
Until —
"Hey."
A young, brash voice came from the corner of the street, carrying a sense of self-importance entirely out of proportion with the age behind it.
"You there. You're in this young lady's way."
Lucian's footsteps stopped.
Not because of what the voice said.
But because of the voice itself —
It was oddly familiar.
He turned toward it.
Standing at the corner was a girl of about five or six.
Blue hair catching the sunlight with a soft sheen, combed neatly into two small braids at her shoulders. Amber-brown eyes, carrying a restless, impatient pride, looking up in their direction with her chin lifted.
That face —
Lucian went still.
That was Siel's face.
Identical.
But the expression was completely different.
The Siel he knew was always tentative, spoke quietly, made herself as small as she could. This girl was standing with both hands on her hips, chin in the air, those amber-brown eyes broadcasting a very clear message: this young lady is nobody to push around.
"Siel?"
Lucian said it before he thought about it.
"How did you get here? Where's Aldred?"
The girl blinked.
Then her brows drew together, and something unmistakably irritated moved through those amber-brown eyes.
"Hah?"
She tilted her head and looked at Lucian the way someone looks at something they've found inexplicable.
"Who's Siel?"
That tone. That manner. That slight upward lilt at the end —
A textbook little devil, if ever there was one.
The corner of Lucian's mouth twitched.
He looked toward Antirin for some kind of explanation. Antirin only stood where she was, watching the scene with those mismatched eyes, no expression on her face.
"Siel," Lucian turned back to the girl and made a genuine effort to keep his voice even, "how long has it been and you've already gone and picked up habits like this?"
The girl's eyes went wider.
"Excuse me," she took two steps forward, head tilted back to look at him, those amber-brown eyes radiating undisguised contempt, "and who exactly are you? Does this young lady know you?"
She paused, then added:
"Also — who's Siel? What a nothing sort of name. Who would actually go around with a name like that?"
Lucian: "..."
He breathed in slowly.
This was absolutely not Siel.
Siel could not speak in a tone like this.
But that face —
At that moment, a familiar voice came from behind him.
"God of — Mr. Lucian."
Lucian turned.
The Supreme Pontiff was walking toward him at a brisk pace, a barely-perceptible awkwardness on that aged face.
Clearly he had caught himself at the last moment and converted "God of Judgment, sir" into "Mr. Lucian" to avoid drawing attention.
The Supreme Pontiff's gaze moved from Lucian to Antirin, and then settled on the small, hands-on-hips figure at the corner of the street.
His expression shifted, subtly.
"You've run into Elis."
"Elis?"
Lucian repeated the name.
"Yes." The Supreme Pontiff came close. "Elis von Ishut. A child of the Ishut family."
He paused and added: "The Ishut family is one of the Theocracy's oldest Godkin bloodline houses."
Godkin bloodline.
Descended from the Six Great Gods.
Lucian looked again at the girl called Elis. She was watching their little huddle with a suspicious, wary expression that said she knew full well they were talking about her — those amber-brown eyes bright and proud.
"So what the Supreme Pontiff means," Lucian looked at the girl called Elis, "is that she isn't Siel."
Less a question than a confirmation.
Lucian was quiet for a moment.
Then a thought occurred to him.
"Didn't Your Grace say just now that there was an urgent matter of state to attend to?"
The Supreme Pontiff's expression stiffened, for just an instant.
But only an instant. That aged face settled back into its impeccable smile.
"It's been handled."
His tone was entirely sincere.
Lucian breathed in slowly.
Fine. He wasn't going to pursue that.
He turned back to the girl called Elis.
"Your Grace," Lucian said, "what's the story with this child?"
"God of Judgment, sir." The Supreme Pontiff moved closer and lowered his voice. "Though young, Elis von Ishut is one of the Theocracy's most exceptional magical prodigies in recent years."
"Her mana capacity far exceeds children her age — it exceeds many adult priests. According to the temple's assessment, if she continues developing normally, she will almost certainly step into the Hero-Level, and may reach something beyond even that."
A magical prodigy.
Mana capacity far beyond her peers.
That small figure stood in the sunlight, hands on her hips, chin lifted, those proud amber-brown eyes telling the world without any ambiguity at all: this young lady is the most impressive thing in it.
Lucian looked at her, and a name surfaced in his memory.
Infinite Magic.
In the original work, the Theocracy's future Black Scripture — Eleventh Seat. A problem child to begin with, impossibly full of herself, until Zetsumei took it upon herself to sort that out.
He just hadn't expected her to be quite this insufferable as a young child.
***
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