Chapter 92 - Man-Made (3)

Rosario had eight cardinals in all. They governed Rosario in place of the pope, who rarely left the chamber of penitence at the top of the temple unless something exceptional occurred, and were divided into three factions.

One was the pureblood faction led by Cardinal Mirania. Another was the political faction led by Cardinal Gumanian. The last was the faction led by Cardinal Yutia, whom neither of the other two factions particularly liked.

Backed by countless believers, Yutia Bloodia had swiftly swallowed up the forces around her, creating a fairly powerful faction despite having only two cardinals.

And that was not all.

Although Yutia's faction was certainly not the largest of the cardinal factions, the other cardinals could not afford to look down on her. Bizarrely, she held something against each of them—secrets she could not possibly have known. They were not enough to cost the cardinals their positions outright, but they could severely undermine their power.

As a result, the factions within Shironia disliked Yutia. Recently, the two factions other than hers had begun secretly cooperating on a plan to push her out.

At least, that had been the case until yesterday.

Unfortunately for them, their plan went up in smoke at today's investiture ceremony.

The reason was simple.

'The saint!?'

'Why is the saint suddenly here...!?'

The saint was walking beside Yutia as she entered the temple where the ceremony would take place.

Apart from the four cardinals absent on outside business, every cardinal present looked aghast. Whatever the reason, appearing together in public like this was effectively a declaration of alliance. Even if this investiture ceremony was not an official Rosario event, its repercussions were no different.

Above all, the cardinals gathered here knew that the saint had no connection whatsoever to Count Pallatio. Normally, a priest acquainted with the noble receiving the title would escort that noble to the ceremony. The moment the saint joined the escort of Count Pallatio, with whom he clearly had no connection, the cardinals could only conclude that he had taken Yutia's side.

'... If the saint has joined her, we can hardly proceed with the plan.'

'How on earth did she get the saint to participate?'

'Hah... This complicates things.'

As silent sighs spread among them, Alon, who was entering for his investiture, was having doubts of his own.

'... Seriously, what is going on? Should I ask him?'

He debated the matter as he looked at Yuman walking beside him, then turned toward Yutia.

"...?"

Naturally, her expression was no different from his own, leaving Alon looking even more bewildered.

####

"That concludes the investiture ceremony."

The tedious ceremony was finally over.

"Congratulations, Count Pallatio—no, I should call you Marquis now."

"Thank you."

Alon took the hand Anderde offered with a benevolent smile and nodded slightly.

'That was fucking long.'

Of course, having heard Sergius's explanation, Alon had expected the ceremony to take quite some time. But he had never imagined it would last four hours, and could only marvel at its length.

"Then let us meet again when we have the time."

Anderde gave a slight bow, and the people gathered in the temple began leaving one by one. As Alon watched them go, voices offered congratulations beside him.

"Congratulations, Teacher. You're a marquis now."

"Indeed. I'll have to be careful not to call you Count anymore."

Alon nodded at Yutia's and Evan's words.

"Yes. Thank you for the congratulations."

"Now that your business is finished, what do you plan to do?"

What came next?

After a moment's thought, Alon answered.

"My business is finished, so I should head home."

To his cozy, comfortable home, where he could roast sweet potatoes.

"Is that so? You won't stay for the Festival of Birth?"

"... The Festival of Birth?"

"Yes. Today is Lady Shironia's Festival of Birth."

For a moment, Alon stared blankly at Yutia's words.

"The Festival of Birth is today?"

"Yes."

"There didn't seem to be any preparations for it."

As Alon recalled the area around the temple yesterday and today, Yutia explained.

"That would be because preparations for Lady Shironia's Festival of Birth only begin in earnest after His Holiness announces its opening on the night of the full moon. Of course, His Holiness is busy praying in the holy land, so Chief Cardinal Anderde will probably announce its opening instead."

Alon nodded and considered this.

'The Festival of Birth...'

Shironia's Festival of Birth was also an event that appeared when visiting Rosario in Psychedelia. It was only available early in the game, and unfortunately, he had scarcely ever attended. Raiding labyrinths scattered across the land or grinding levels in Lartania was far more profitable in terms of both levels and experience.

Still, his absence from the festival did not mean he was unaware of the items obtainable only during the event.

'... Since I'm here anyway, should I pick that up too?'

With that thought, Alon spoke.

"Well, in that case, I'll stay and enjoy the festival for a day or two before leaving."

"Oh, really, Count—no, my lord Marquis?"

"Yes."

Evan and Yutia nodded, looking thoroughly pleased with his decision.

'Well, investing a day or two isn't a bad idea if I can get the item.'

As Alon reached that conclusion, a somewhat familiar voice came from behind him.

"Marquis Pallatio."

He turned to find Yuman standing there.

"Your Holiness."

"Congratulations."

Slightly taken aback by the immediate congratulations, Alon replied.

"...? Ah, yes. Thank you."

Unlike when he had warned Alon to be wary of Yutia, Yuman's voice now sounded positively kind.

... Alon simply could not make sense of him.

Whether or not he knew what Alon was thinking, Yuman smiled in satisfaction and shifted his gaze toward Yutia.

"..."

"..."

His expression made no attempt to conceal his hostility. He held her gaze for a while.

"Then I shall take my leave. Oh, and I hope you will give careful thought to what I told you."

As though imparting some profound advice, he gave Alon an intense look that seemed to burn with passion, then departed. Alon watched blankly as Yuman disappeared into the distance.

"My lord Marquis."

"What is it?"

"... I know it's terribly irreverent to say this about the saint, but... doesn't he seem to have a little... something?"

"... Something like what?"

"Well... bipolar disorder."

Alon fell silent for a while at Evan's reasonable suspicion, recalling Yuman's behavior—how he would get angry, turn serious, or smile whenever he saw Alon's face.

Then he slowly nodded.

"It's possible..."

... It was a dispassionate assessment.

Yet Yuman, who never dreamed that Alon was assessing him in such terms, was busy stoking his passion and resolve all by himself.

'I must rescue the Hidden Saint from Cardinal Yutia's clutches.'

####

That night.

"Wow, that's truly spectacular."

"Indeed."

At Evan's admiring words, Alon looked down at the view from his room, equally impressed behind his expressionless face.

'It's even more beautiful than in the game.'

A blue moon hung in the sky. Around the vast temple below, blue torches burned in place of red ones. At the center of the temple, an immense number of priests had gathered to pray as they awaited the opening of the Festival of Birth.

The sight was truly magnificent, and Alon was gazing absently at the temple when Yutia spoke.

"It's beginning."

He turned his attention to the dais. Anderde soon climbed onto it, marking the opening of the festival. Shortly afterward, Yuman joined him there, and Alon thought:

'... Well, I felt uneasy because we seemed to be on bad terms, but everything worked out, so I suppose it's fine?'

Of course, he knew that even if he antagonized Yuman, the saint would not harm him physically or politically unless Alon was a heretic. Even so, he preferred to avoid making enemies.

Above all, if events followed the original story, Yuman would eventually become one of the companions who protected this world alongside Elivan, Psychedelia's original protagonist. In other words, nothing good would come of having a poor relationship with him.

At any rate, with that weight lifted from his heart, Alon watched the festival at ease.

At that moment, Yuman, who had taken his place on the dais to deliver the birthday sermon alongside the chief cardinal before the believers as prescribed by the customary rites, suddenly sensed something strange.

"...?"

The man before him was certainly the Anderde he knew, yet something was subtly different. Had he been asked to explain what, he could not have done so. Still, Yuman distinctly felt something alien about Anderde.

Just then—

"As expected, you seem to sense it, Your Holiness."

Chief Cardinal Anderde spoke, a benevolent smile on his face.

"Pardon?"

Yuman asked him to clarify.

But instead of answering, Anderde looked at Yuman and said,

"I truly envy you, Your Holiness."

His words were unfamiliar, a departure from the planned proceedings. Naturally, puzzlement appeared in Yuman's eyes.

"For you receive blessings simply by being alive."

As those words rang out, the cardinals and bishops seated in their designated places on the dais began to look confused.

"You—not the priest who has prayed for decades, nor the child who goes hungry all day, nor the believer who chooses hardship to fulfill the will of the gods."

"..."

"I consider that unfair."

Now even the believers, who had been praying only moments before, realized this was not the usual ritual and looked up at the dais in confusion.

At that moment, Yuman saw it.

Still wearing his benevolent smile, Anderde said,

"So, here where we shall behold a new god, I would like you to die as a 'symbol' of that unfairness."

CRRACK!!

Anderde's arm, perfectly normal until moments ago, swelled as though about to burst and twisted into a grotesque shape. The enormous limb, looking like hundreds of tree trunks tangled together, suddenly swung to sweep away Yuman and the cardinals on the dais.

It all happened in an instant. At the same time, everything began moving slowly in Yuman's eyes.

The cardinals and bishops on the dais moving to rise from their seats, their faces aghast. The paladins belatedly drawing their swords. Horror appearing on the faces of countless priests.

It all filled his vision in slow motion.

Normally, once Anderde's surprise attack had succeeded, not a single person on the dais would have survived. Divine power took a long time to wield. No matter how deep their faith or how great their divine power, everyone had to pray to their god to use it.

That was simply how it worked.

Yet there was one person here who was free of that restriction, which no one else could escape.

Saint Yuman.

Chosen directly by the goddess to become a saint, he could wield divine power without any particular prayer.

KRRRSH!!

Even against an attack that came without warning, he could instantly summon divine power to block it.

"Ghh!"

Despite pouring an enormous amount of divine power into his defense, Yuman involuntarily grimaced at the tremendous impact.

The barrier formed from his immense divine power stopped Anderde's surprise attack, just as he had expected.

"!"

But Anderde's arm swept along the outside of Yuman's barrier and began crashing down toward the priests below the dais.

"No!"

Yuman cried out involuntarily, expanding his barrier. Despite his efforts, however, Anderde's grotesque arm was already descending upon the heads of young priests who had not yet reached adulthood.

At that moment, Yuman saw them: the children's trembling eyes, instinctively filled with terror, looking toward him as they tried desperately to hold on to hope.

But those eyes only plunged Yuman into deeper despair. Just as he reflexively squeezed his eyes shut—

"Form of the Thunder God."

A low voice rang out, and he soon caught sight of an ink-black coat billowing among the children who had been trembling in fear only moments before.

"...!"

By the time Yuman realized what had happened, a bitter chill had already settled deep in his lungs. Next he saw blue lightning crackling at the hem of the violently fluttering coat.

Finally, he saw that Anderde's grotesque arm, which had been swinging to crush everyone on the dais only moments ago, had vanished as though it had exploded.

And then, as every gaze, Yuman's included, fixed upon the man—no, upon the Hidden Saint standing with the blue moon at his back—he spoke.

"What do you think you're doing?"