Chapter 99

Who exactly are you?

Because of the dark clouds, evening came earlier than usual.
It might also have been because the days had grown shorter with winter approaching.

The monastery in Hendelbrook felt more ominous than usual.
The rain-soaked earth and bushes, along with the cemetery nestled among them, gave off a chilling atmosphere.
After the heavy rain earlier, even the gravekeeper was nowhere to be seen.

It was late evening when a carriage arrived.

Hearing the rattling wheels on the unpaved road, a monk stepped out of the monastery gate holding a lantern.

“What brings you here?”

“It is Young Master Theobald. He has come seeking spiritual counsel.”

The coachman answered.

The monk glanced inside the carriage.
A boy sat there—refined in bearing, yet looking as though he had just been pulled out of water.

The monk gave a small nod of greeting.

“Please, come in.”

The gates of the monastery opened.

The name “Theobald” was a kind of password.

***

Guided by the monk, Isaac descended into the monastery’s underground.
There were small stone chambers prepared for prayer.

The structure was similar to the monastery where the Apostolic sect had once performed rituals months ago.
The memory of the nauseating stench from that time made Isaac frown.

Fortunately, this place smelled only of damp stone, mold, and moss.
The foul odor he remembered was absent.

Instead, the faint scent of incense used in religious rites gently filled the underground air.

The place Isaac arrived at was a relatively large stone chamber deep underground.
Unlike the small prayer rooms, this one seemed meant for receiving guests—
a round stone table and worn wooden chairs had been set up.

“Seeing you here is… refreshing.”

Seated among the chairs was Marcel Reich.

“I didn’t expect you’d want to meet in a place like this.”

Isaac had received two messages through a carrier pigeon from Hans.

One was information about Marquis Dietrich’s movements from the merchant Venders.
Having planted informants in stables, inns, crossroads, and carriage rental points across cities, Venders quickly tracked the Marquis and relayed the information to Isaac.

The other was an anonymous message—from Marcel Reich.

“A monastery where devout monks live is perfect for confidential discussions.
The more devout they are, the less interest they have in worldly matters.
They’re as good as nonexistent.”

“And yet you’ve stationed knights of the order outside?”

Isaac’s sharp hearing clearly picked up the faint footsteps of several people, along with the subtle sound of blades brushing against leather.

“Heh, sharp ears. There shouldn’t have been any sign of them.”

“I’m a bit sensitive. Especially these days.”

Isaac smiled harshly.

The underground chamber of the monastery was indeed ideal for secret meetings.
The corridors were narrow and maze-like.

Which also meant—if surrounded, there would be no escape.

Marcel Reich intended to decide here whether Isaac would live or die.

Even if Isaac were killed here, as long as the body was disposed of properly, he would simply vanish.

“They’re merely protectors of the monastery.
Men who once wielded swords in the secular world before becoming monks.”

Reich said with a relaxed smile—
though it soon faded.

“Since you called me here, I assume you’ve confirmed it.”

“You were right. All three you mentioned were indeed spies.”

Reich spoke with a low murmur.

“Then I suppose you’ll trust me now.”

“That’s exactly why I need to know more.”

Shing—

The monk who had guided Isaac suddenly drew a dagger and pointed it at him.

“No need to hide it now.”

Four more monks entered.
They wore the same robes, but swords hung at their waists.

They were the order knights Isaac had mentioned.

All of them drew their swords and surrounded him.

‘The real deal.’

Isaac recalled the mercenary he had just fought.
A mediocre fighter relying on a magitech sword to produce aura.

Even ten of those mercenaries wouldn’t stand a chance against one of these men.

“Hand over your sword.”

The dagger-wielding monk spoke.

Isaac obediently placed the longsword from his belt onto the stone table.
It was the magitech sword he had taken from the mercenary.

“Don’t try anything foolish. They’ve all been granted exceptional ‘authority.’”

In the old faith, magic was called “authority.”
And for knights, that authority was undoubtedly aura.

“It’s strange hearing that from you, Headmaster. I thought mages didn’t follow religion.”

“Grow older and you’ll see—you feel empty without one.
And I am a man who studies magic, not one who blindly believes.”

“Whether you have faith or not isn’t my concern.
What exactly do you want to know from me?”

“You’re quite calm for someone in this situation.”

Reich’s eyebrow twitched.

Isaac’s reaction was undeniably abnormal.
Even with blades pointed at him in a confined space, he remained completely composed.

He was nothing like a boy of his age—
more like someone who had faced death countless times.

“Then answer me. Who exactly are you?”

Reich placed his clasped hands on the table.

“That’s a philosophical question.”

Isaac replied.

“The Isaac I knew was, until a year ago, a frail child suffering from a peculiar constitution.
How could that child identify spies in my laboratory—something even I failed to do?
How did he come into contact with the hidden remnants of the destroyed Flur family?”

“If you don’t know, I’ll say it again.
I am Isaac von Goethe Vinfelt.”

Isaac answered as if it were obvious.

“Hah. Or perhaps you’re a monster wearing Isaac von Goethe’s face—
and that monster is plotting something.”

“Even if such a monster existed, it wouldn’t be able to replicate my unique constitution.
You would know that, Headmaster—the nature of the mana flowing within me.”

Reich fell silent.

Isaac was right.

“Did I mention? I am not only the headmaster of the academy, but also an advisor to the royal family.
In that role, I’ve seen individuals with truly bizarre abilities.
Some could mimic appearances, voices—even the patterns of mana.
There was one who lived decades behind such a mask before being exposed.”

“If such an ability existed, there would be better choices than impersonating the heir of a minor frontier family like Goethe.”

“Then answer me. How did you identify the spies?”

“Isn’t it enough that I told you who they were?”

“Even accurate information is meaningless if the source isn’t trustworthy. It could just as easily be a trap.”

“And if I refuse to answer?”

“I’ll kill you.”

At Reich’s words, the knights of the order raised their swords toward Isaac.

“You mean the heir of Goethe?”

“He’s no longer Goethe’s heir. He’s now Baron of Vinfelt—a vassal of Goethe.”

“You’re quite suspicious.”

“Unnecessary suspicion ruins everything, but necessary suspicion can save your life.”

“A fair point.”

Isaac had anticipated this situation.

The only way to thoroughly identify spies is to become one—
or to torture or persuade them into revealing everything they know.

Reich wanted to know which of those Isaac was—and how it was even possible.

“Then kill me.”

Isaac gave a simple answer.

“Find out for yourself whether that suspicion will save your life—or ruin everything.”

Reich carefully examined Isaac’s eyes.

Sharp, blue eyes.
Not a trace of wavering or disturbance.
Eyes that seemed empty—devoid of even the slightest attachment to life.

They were peculiar eyes.

“Are you truly going to act like this?”

“I came here to make a deal. Not to be threatened.”

“…Every time I see you, I think this—those eyes resemble Helmut’s.”

Reich frowned, rubbing his temples as if troubled.

“Brothers, give us the room.”

At Reich’s command, the monks sheathed their weapons and left the chamber.

“So, what can you prove?”

“As I told you before, a war will soon break out.”

“I’ve already heard that. Thanks to your reckless antics, Goethe itself is now in danger.”

“I believe you can see beyond that, Headmaster. Perhaps… you already do.”

It was a sudden shift in tone.
His voice was calm, almost like recounting an old tale.

But the content was anything but easy to hear.

They were truths that had come from the mouth of Gutrert—
the chief attendant of House Botmer, and the viscount’s right-hand man.

A fabricated justification for war.
The collateral branches seizing dominance in the north.
The parliamentary faction growing stronger.
The Empire tightening its interference.

Reich was dumbfounded.

These words were coming from a twelve-year-old boy.

Yes, Isaac was larger and sharper than others his age.
Undeniably exceptional.

But he was still twelve.

And yet, from that boy came a story so absurd—
and yet impossible to ignore.

Everything Isaac said aligned too perfectly.

“…Do you even understand what you’re saying?”

Reich’s voice trembled slightly.

It was not a future anyone could welcome.

“My reckless behavior only bought a little time.
A war between someone like me and Botmer… well, it’s like children playing at sword fighting.
Botmer will quickly sweep aside a fight with someone like me.
He wouldn’t want to be held back by a mad brat.
Nor would he waste full strength on someone who can’t even grasp the bigger picture.”

Isaac knew his place exactly.

More than that—he was using his position to his advantage.

“When winter comes, Botmer will formally declare war on Goethe.
It will be when monsters begin pouring over the White Serpent Mountains—
the moment Goethe is at its weakest.
Especially now, when it can’t expect help from its vassals.”

“Do you have proof that Botmer would do such a thing?”

“This is a magical tool I took from the chief attendant’s escort.”

Isaac pointed to the longsword resting on the table.

“A magical tool?”

Though a mana crystal was embedded in the pommel, it appeared decorative—not like a magical device.

Isaac picked up the sword.

A faint blue light gathered around it.

“Th-this… Impossible. Are you now even using aura?
No—does that mean you’ve already overcome your unique constitution?
No, that can’t be. Magic and aura are entirely different domains. Completely—”

Reich trailed off, unable to finish.

He could not hide his shock.

The reason mages cannot become aura users—and aura users cannot become mages—
lies in the nature of their vessel.

A mage forms rings within their vessel—
if expressed visually, like spiraling circles growing larger.

An aura user, on the other hand, has no such rings.

Instead, mana circuits spread throughout the entire body from a vessel centered in the heart,
allowing the body itself to be enhanced to superhuman levels.

Aura is the act of treating a weapon as part of one’s own body—
forming artificial mana circuits within an inanimate blade.

Once those circuits are formed, the blade gains cutting power capable of felling even massive trees, depending on the wielder’s will.

“This aura… even you can use it, Headmaster.”

“What do you mean?”

Reich could not comprehend Isaac’s words.

Everything he knew was clashing with the reality before him.

“Try it yourself.”

Isaac handed the sword to Reich.

“You only need to infuse a small amount of mana.
Think of it like a lever or pedal that activates a machine.”

Reich accepted the sword with suspicion.

Then, cautiously, he infused mana into it.

Humm—

With a vibrating sound from within the blade, the rune stone in the pommel lit up.

Just as with Isaac, aura flowed from the sword—even in Reich’s hand.

“How… is this possible…?”

“This is technology from the Republic.
While the Kingdom’s chosen scholars focus on long-distance communication, the Republic hasn’t been idle.
And the Emperor of the Empire is already purchasing these weapons in large quantities—
to govern the lands he has, and to conquer even more.”

“In the Empire, they call these… magitech swords.”

“Magitech swords…”

“Yes. In the war against Goethe, Botmer will use these.”

Crack!

The mana crystal embedded in the sword shattered—
its stored mana completely depleted.

It sounded, almost, like something inside Reich had broken as well.