Chapter 5: People Seek God in Times of Hardship (2)

“Mm.”

The head of House Bartenberg, Ludwig, stroked his chin.

His expression shifted through a storm of emotions.

A knight in golden armor reported to him.

“It’s been a month now.”

His youngest son—whom he had long given up on—had started training.

Like everyone else, Ludwig thought Richard would give up soon.

But it had already been a month.

A whole month since the scoundrel had continued his training.

Ludwig suppressed the strange stirrings inside him.

“Tch, you must’ve heard from Gide.”

“Hah, as if. Didn’t you yourself make sure to keep it a secret?”

The knight Leon smiled awkwardly, causing Ludwig’s brow to twitch.

“Young Master Richard doesn’t seem to know either.”

“Enough. No more talk about that half-wit.”

A scoundrel with nothing but a snake’s temperament and inflated pride—always abusing his status.

That was how Ludwig saw Richard.

“Even if he miraculously cures his mana insensitivity, his weak will won’t change.”

He murmured low.

“A boy who collapses from a mere mock battle isn’t worthy to be my son.”

Leon simply smiled knowingly, as if he understood Ludwig’s true feelings.

Ludwig didn’t care about mana.

If Richard had just kept his sword in hand, if he hadn’t broken down so easily, Ludwig wouldn’t have been this cold.

“It’ll be the same this time. I’m tired of being disappointed.”

***

[Your constitution is changing.]

[Your average bones are evolving into strong bones.]

A month had passed.

In this short time, Richard’s body had undergone tremendous changes.

It was now on par with a knight’s body trained over several years.

He’d grown at least a handspan taller, and his muscles filled out flawlessly.

‘All thanks to the elixirs Richard took as a child.’

The medicinal effects, matured inside him, had triggered this transformation.

A change in constitution was among the rarest of phenomena—it was part of one’s innate talent.

***

“What are you looking at?”

Aaron stared at Richard strangely.

“Just a month…”

“Huh?”

“In just one month, you’ve caught up to me.”

Sweating heavily, Aaron bowed his head.

“Seriously? You’re upset about that?”

Richard patted his shoulder.

Today, he’d finally outrun Aaron.

But it wasn’t even a formal duel—just a playful competition.

Still, Aaron suddenly lifted his head.

“As expected of House Bartenberg. You truly are of great lineage.”

Contrary to Richard’s expectations, Aaron looked genuinely happy for him.

“If Sir Gide saw you now, he’d be deeply moved.”

“Right… yeah.”

Feeling awkward, Richard stood up.

“Should we start swordsmanship training soon?”

“Yeah, it’s about time.”

Aaron was clearly invested in his training.

But to learn swordsmanship, a teacher was needed.

Richard already had someone in mind.

“The Patriarchs’ Conference is tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.”

The Patriarchs’ Conference—a gathering of the most renowned northern noble families at House Bartenberg. The topic: rising influence of southern magic clans. And this time, an unexpected figure would attend.

“Let’s finish training by noon tomorrow.”

“Are you… planning to attend the conference?”

Aaron’s face froze, clearly alarmed.

“Come on. Like I’d barge into a meeting of the patriarchs.”

Though Richard hadn’t caused trouble lately, people still saw him as the same scoundrel.

“Let’s head back.”

As Richard turned to leave the training grounds, someone blocked his path—a face he’d rather not see.

“Richard…?”

It was Moritz Bartenberg, Richard’s third brother.

Only two years older, but he’d always tormented Richard.

“Is that really you?”

Apparently, Richard had changed so much that even his own brother didn’t recognize him at first.

“Hey, bro. How’s it going?”

Richard greeted cheerfully.

Moritz scowled.

“Bro?! Ha! Call me ‘big brother!’”

Only two years apart, and yet Moritz always demanded superiority.

“So you’ve trained a little, and now you’re cocky?”

Moritz stepped closer with a threatening aura.

Though he acted like a thug, he was still of Bartenberg blood.

His strength surely exceeded normal humans.

“Young Master Richard!”

“It’s fine.”

Richard stopped Aaron from intervening and stared Moritz down.

Moritz eventually backed off, sneering.

“Tch, getting riled up by a half-wit like you… guess I’m still immature.”

“If you’re done talking, I’ve got things to do.”

“Yeah, yeah. Without mana, you’d better at least try hard.”

There it was—that insult Richard had always hated.

But now, it didn’t bother him in the slightest.

After all, he did have mana.

“You know… compared to our older brothers, you’re… kinda pathetic.”

Moritz froze mid-step.

He turned slowly, voice trembling.

“What did you just say?”

Richard smiled innocently.

“Hm? Did I say something?”

“You little…!”

“Tired now. Maybe go train yourself instead of picking fights?”

As he walked away, Moritz screamed profanities behind him.

“Are you okay?”

Aaron asked quietly.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Moritz is the one who lost it.”

After all, Moritz had willingly thrown away his own strengths—a fool of the highest order.

But for Richard, everything now hinged on gaining faith.

The issue? Earning it wasn’t easy.

In this household, even mentioning God might lead to serious consequences.

Leaving the estate wasn’t an option either—he was under house arrest for his past misdeeds.

“This is suffocating.”

He sighed and returned to his room.

After bathing, his maid brought dinner.

“She looks worse every day,” Richard thought.

Her cheeks were hollow, and she looked ready to collapse.

Something was definitely wrong.

“Mary.”

She didn’t even hear him the first time. He raised his voice.

“Mary!”

“Eek!”

Startled, she flinched.

“Y-Yes, Young Master?”

“You don’t look well. Is something wrong?”

“N-no, nothing. Sorry to trouble you…”

But it was written all over her face.

“Come on. Just tell me. You look miserable.”

He was already overwhelmed with things to handle.

The last thing he needed was a gloomy maid hovering.

“S-sorry! I made a mistake.”

She bowed deeply, her gaunt face even more pitiful now.

‘This is serious.’

“That’s an order. Speak.”

Mary gasped.

After a long pause, she finally spoke, voice trembling.

“My mother… she’s critically ill. I’m so sorry, bringing up personal issues…”

“…Ah.”

So that’s what it was.

Richard almost scolded her for not telling him sooner, but remembered—he was still wearing the mask of a scoundrel.

‘It’s no wonder she didn’t ask me for help.’

In fact, the real Richard might’ve used her weakness to torment her.

But that was no longer who he was.

“Where is your mother now?”

“She’s in the servant quarters, under care. The family doctor saw her a few days ago, but…”

So the family had already offered some aid.

But clearly, it hadn’t helped.

Richard studied Mary.

Her face was pale with worry.

She looked worse than someone suffering from the illness herself.

Oddly, though he pitied her, he also felt something else—a surge of anticipation.

“I’ll help you.”

“Huh?”

“I asked because I want to help. I meant it.”

He smiled gently.

After all, he had divine power. If he didn’t use it now, when would he?

“Take me to her.”

Humans seek gods in times of hardship.

And right now, there was no one more desperate than Mary.

‘A perfect chance to gain not one, but two followers.’