Chapter 48: The Goddess’s Will (1)

Isabelle’s eyes blink rapidly.

She wasn’t quite sure about what she had just confirmed.

“…?”

After a couple more checks, her palm opens up.

Before her is the back of a man, sculpted with scars and muscles.

“What is this—?”

At Isabelle’s stunned reaction, Glenn simply turned around with a dazed look and asked,

“Is something wrong?”

“… This growth speed is absurd.”

Isabelle doubted her own eyes.

She looked at Glenn’s back, shaking her head in disbelief.

Is such a growth speed even possible?

It had only been a few weeks since Isabelle had requested Glenn’s Blood Magic training.

At the start, Glenn’s skill level was barely above beginner.

While his method of manipulating blood and the concept itself were astonishing, his absolute amount of blood energy and mastery over his blood were still lacking.

In other words, this man was skilled in fighting through blood energy, but his everyday practice in controlling blood energy was immature.

That’s what she thought—until now.

She had only given him her knowledge a few times.

And had only manipulated his body a few times with her own blood energy.

That was all.

“By now, he’s definitely out of beginner level… He’s almost at intermediate level. Truly impressive.”

“That’s a relief.”

Unlike his blank reaction, Isabelle still wore a bewildered expression.

“How exactly did you do it?”

She was also a Blood Magic practitioner.

So she knew for sure that Blood Magic was never easy.

No, it was actually quite difficult.

What’s more difficult than learning magic itself is Blood Magic.

Being an upper-intermediate Blood Magic practitioner and a third-rank Circle Mage, she could say that without a doubt.

“I suppose it’s thanks to the Prince’s excellent guidance,” Glenn answered with a smirk.

She gave a wry smile.

“You’re bluffing, right? You know magic like this doesn’t level up easily.”

Blood Magic is still magic, so one must know how to control mana.

Moreover, they must also learn to manipulate the unique resource called blood energy, which requires high mastery over one’s blood.

For Night Elves, mastery grows simply with age, but for humans, it’s not like that.

Mastery over their own blood ultimately depends on physical capability.

In other words, for a human to raise their Blood Magic rank, they must train their magic, naturally, but also improve their physical abilities.

Whether by drinking potions or implanting a vampire’s heart, it’s all similar in nature.

Additionally, one must think carefully about how to manipulate blood energy.

High mastery and efficient control are different matters.

In conclusion—you have to pay attention to mana, blood energy, and physical strength all at once.

And naturally, this is very difficult.

“Well… I do fight a lot. So maybe that’s why.”

Glenn spoke offhandedly.

He couldn’t talk about his past life here.

To him, this speed was natural—or rather, slow.

The method and theory were something he solved with memories from his previous life.

But the actual amount of blood energy was a totally different matter.

That’s why every night, he drank that deadly poison, and during every battle, he purposely pushed his blood energy to the limit.

It was painful, but it was definitely a way to increase blood energy.

As a side effect, he had more nightmares and hallucinations, but that was unavoidable.

“Fighting, huh… I’ve heard stories about you going overboard every time you battle.”

“… It just sort of happened that way.”

It surely wasn’t good gossip.

Probably exaggerated too.

“Anyway—no matter what method it is, it’s definitely not easy…”

“… Why do you say that?”

Concern, curiosity, and pity filled Isabelle’s eyes as she looked at Glenn.

“What’s the reason?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you push yourself that far?”

She didn’t know exactly what method he used, but it was certainly exhausting.

Blood Magic never just gives itself up easily.

Isabelle herself knew that well as a Blood Magic practitioner.

So it made her all the more curious.

Why on earth was this man going so far?

“… Not really like that,”

Glenn, feeling a sudden warmth inside, unconsciously lowered his gaze as he answered.

“When you’re flustered, you sometimes rub your eyes like that.”

“… Is that so?”

She quickly withdrew her hand.

Their eyes met, and she just shrugged her shoulders.

“Actually, Ariane does that too. What I’m saying is strange, but… is there really a need for you, Your Highness, to go this far?”

“Like I said, it’s a blood pact.”

“… You keep dodging the question.”

“Right.”

“Hmm, don’t want to say? Fine, everyone has their own reasons.”

“Well, that aside—”

Thinking it was all over, Glenn picked up the shirt he had tossed aside.

“Do I have to take off my shirt every time we do this?”

A complaint, but not quite.

At that moment, Isabelle, who had moved to a chair in the corner of the room, answered.

“Do you think it’s easy to send blood energy through fabric? If you’re unhappy, find another Blood Magic practitioner.”

“I’m not really complaining.”

“Then why suddenly bring it up?”

“… Well, isn’t it a bit odd for a grown man and woman to keep doing this in a room?”

Glenn’s candid answer made the red-haired woman smile.

She looked as if she had just found an amusing prank.

“Oh my. Don’t tell me you had some strange thoughts?”

She covered her chest with her arms.

Then, very naturally, she twisted her legs to expose her thigh.

After what happened last time, these actions had lessened considerably.

The warning not to try and use her lightly had worked.

But that didn’t mean Isabelle’s charm had vanished.

Glenn barely turned his gaze away from her.

Noticing this, a slight smile lifted the corner of her mouth.

“You do have an eye for things. But… wouldn’t you be more concerned about the Prince than me?”

“Me? Why?”

There was no way he didn’t understand.

He was only pretending not to.

“… Isn’t this the Princess’s room?”

Isabelle was the one who suggested Glenn use this place to train his Blood Magic.

If asked whether this was an appropriate place, it was hard to say.

It was indeed a secretive place, but…

“Ah, to be precise, it’s one of the rooms I own. It’s also where I host important guests.”

“Isn’t that asking for unnecessary misunderstandings?”

“Hmph. It’s better than word getting out that I’m a Blood Magic practitioner.”

The gaze toward Blood Magic users was naturally not kind.

Using blood as a medium was quite repulsive.

To outsiders, it was practically indistinguishable from Black Magic.

In fact, until a few generations ago, it was treated similarly to Black Magic.

It only improved after the Winter Order became known for using Blood Magic.

Even though they were suspicious, their conduct befitted the Four Great Orders.

“If that’s what you think, then I don’t really mind—”

Knock, knock!

Suddenly, the door was flung open with a bang.

Why knock at all, one might wonder, but the expression of the one entering was that urgent.

“Prince!”

“… Vicar Monica?”

Glenn felt a strange emotion.

Like a younger brother caught doing something wrong by his older sister.

“What’s the matter?”

At the sudden intrusion, Isabelle raised her voice slightly.

She was scolding for the rudeness.

“S-sorry. It was urgent…”

Monica hurriedly bowed.

Seeing her like this for the first time, both Glenn and Isabelle started feeling uneasy.

“What is it?”

Now that he looked, her eyes were slightly wet.

An unexplainable unease settled in.

“Clemens is in danger!”

***

Evil is just evil.

There’s no greater evil or lesser evil.

Just as black is simply black.

And the one who decides this is,

Solely the Goddess’s will.

Therefore, one must obey her voice.

Then the world would become cleaner and more just.

Truly, they believed without doubt.

Thus, they acted without hesitation.

They rescued a village attacked by bandits.

And forced the smugglers there to pay heavy tribute.

It was the Goddess’s will.

They saw believers who abused travelers because they did not trust her.

It was the Goddess’s will.

They kidnapped merchants demanding repayment of debts.

A day passed in the punishment room, and the merchant refused to accept.

It was the Goddess’s will.

They assassinated a political rival to the Vicar.

His wife and children were sold as slaves.

That too was the Goddess’s will.

They set fire to the warehouse storing large amounts of smuggled grain.

The price of grain held by the Vicar doubled.

… It was the Goddess’s will.

They dragged the servants who received rations into the punishment room.

Because they had not prayed to the Goddess but still received blessings.

The sick child died after two lashes of the whip.

… Was this the Goddess’s will?

They branded the innocent as heretics.

Was this the Goddess’s will?

They chased away priests who distributed food in the name of other religions.

Was this the Goddess’s will?

They plundered the property of the innocent.

Is this truly the Goddess’s will?

Can this be called her will?

Am I really carrying out the Goddess’s voice?

No, it can’t be.

This can’t be the Goddess’s will.

… It never can be.

***

A knock echoed in the sparse room.

Knock, knock—

The pen in the hand of the one writing stopped.

“Lord Clemens?”

A familiar voice.

But not one to be heard now.

“… Vicar Francis?”

“Oh, you’re in there. May I come in for a moment?”

Clemens frowned.

“Come in—”

… Why is he here?

He was sure he saw him leave the mansion.

Still, he quickly organized the documents to one side.

Closed the journal he was writing, then put it away.

Quietly drew his sword and placed it at his waist.

Half opening the door, he bowed his head.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Haha, sorry for dropping by on your day off. How have you been?”

The familiar expression of Vicar Francis.

Seeing his kind smile, Clemens felt a sudden wave of nausea but held it back.

“Thank you for your concern. But what is the matter…?”

Hopefully, his voice didn’t sound strange.

Clemens realized his palms were damp.

“Hmm? It’s nothing special. But why do you look like that? You look quite pale.”

“Nothing serious. I’ve just been a bit sleepless lately.”

“Oh dear, you should be more careful with that precious body. By the way, may I come in for a talk shortly?”

Did he sense something?

His heart pounded and anxiety grew damp.

He unconsciously shifted the dry weight of his body.

Carefully, he started fidgeting with the handle at his waist.

“… Why is that?”

“Ah, it’s nothing—”

Vicar Francis’s smile remained.

“I’ve caught a rat.”

No, now it was clearly a sneer.

At that moment, mana stirred behind Vicar Francis.

A grim premonition wrapped around Clemens.

… A spell!

“Damn it—!”

“Furic Ventera Satus! (Angry wind, blow!)”

Kukaang!

The door—no, the entire room seemed about to be torn apart by the swirling stone gale.