Chapter 68
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Chapter 68
Chesa bolted toward the mirror and let out a piercing scream.
"Nooooo!"
The moment she saw the tiny infant reflected in the glass, her vision darkened.
In desperate denial of reality, she seized her hair with both hands and tore at it with all her strength.
Yet nothing changed.
Chesa was an infant.
"This is insane... absolutely insane...!"
Chesa burst into wailing sobs.
"What is this?!"
Hata fidgeted anxiously beside her, groaning.
"This shouldn't be happening. I made it perfectly. Why? How could this...?"
Hata rummaged through her pockets and pulled out several more potion bottles.
Then she drank one of the potions herself.
Before Chesa's eyes, Hata transformed into an adorable baby.
"Even as a baby, I'm still cute."
She gulped down another potion.
"And I can return to my original form just fine."
With a pop, she reverted to normal.
Hata clutched an empty potion bottle and muttered in bewilderment.
"Why isn't the potion working on Lichesia?!"
Hata screamed alongside her in despair.
Chesa collapsed onto the floor.
"This is a nightmare..."
She truly wanted to cry.
But with an infant's short limbs, she couldn't even properly express her despair.
Clutching her spinning head, she barely managed to think.
"It's not Hata's fault."
There was no way Hata had made a mistake while brewing the potion.
Her little companion was far too skilled for that.
After all, the potion was working perfectly fine on Hata right now.
"Something's wrong with my body..."
For some reason, the potion simply wouldn't work on Chesa.
Would she remain trapped in this form forever?
Was she condemned to live out her days as a helpless child?
The moment word spread that the demoness Lichesia had been reduced to a feeble brat, countless enemies would come swarming like locusts.
No matter how formidable a demoness Chesa truly was,
an infant's body had its limits in wielding power.
A weakened demoness would become easy prey, torn to shreds by those who hungered for her demise.
'And I can barely protect Hata as it is.'
Hata, too, would inevitably perish alongside her, stripped of the protection that her notorious reputation as a witch had afforded.
While the Illusion Realm allowed her to mimic an adult's appearance, she could hardly spend her entire existence within it.
Each deployment of the Illusion Realm consumed an enormous amount of power, making it impossible to maintain continuously.
Thoughts raced through her mind with crystalline clarity.
After cycling through dozens of hypothetical scenarios and their logical conclusions.
Chesa found herself with only a single viable option.
One that would allow her to continue gathering intelligence on the fairy experiments.
One that would grant her legitimate access to infiltrate the Holy Empire.
One that would ensure protection from an ally more formidable than any other.
And that was....
To live as Chesa Basilian.
***
The elderly priest was unremarkable.
He smiled warmly as he watched children playing in the street.
The children, who had been kicking a small ball about, suddenly cried out in surprise.
The ball rolled toward the priest's feet.
"Father! Please throw the ball back!"
The old priest grunted and bent at the waist.
He picked up the ball and hurled it back with a flourish.
The ball shot forth with such force that it seemed impossible for an elderly man to possess such strength.
"Wow!"
The children exclaimed with delight and caught the soaring ball.
"Thank you!"
The children who had caught it cheered raucously and scampered off into the distance.
They resumed their game with renewed enthusiasm.
The smiling old priest noticed his sleeve had ridden up from throwing the ball and clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
A prosthetic arm had become briefly visible between his glove and sleeve.
The prosthetic, crafted from white mineral, emanated a faint sacred aura.
Much like the holy swords wielded by the Holy Knights.
The old priest pulled his sleeve back down and gazed toward the distant sky, murmuring softly.
"What a beautiful day."
It was a murmur that seemed to drift away like idle thoughts.
Yet after his words had finished.
A man emerged from the darkness of the alley not long after.
The man with silver hair that gleamed brilliantly wore the uniform of a Holy Knight.
The man knelt on one knee before the old priest.
A cool voice offered his greeting.
"First Heresy Inquisitor Hailon. In the name of God, I pay my respects to Your Majesty the Holy King."
The elderly priest was Sianor Hilderd, the Holy King of the Holy Empire.
Hailon gazed at the Holy King's face with an impassive expression.
No one would ever mistake this elderly priest for the Holy King.
Those who possessed great power transcended the ravages of age.
None could imagine that the Holy King, who should possess the Holy Empire's most exceptional divine power, would be this withered old man.
In truth, the Holy King had once maintained a youth that defied his years.
But after that day's incident.
Holy King Sianor Hilderd had lost most of his divine power and both his arms.
Currently, he wore prosthetic limbs crafted from consecrated minerals.
The prosthetics granted him abnormal strength, yet that was all they offered.
He could no longer manifest the endless miracles that flowed from his divine power as he once had.
And yet he remained the Holy King of the Holy Empire.
"A fine day to meet my knight."
The master who owned Hailon.
"It has been long, Hailon."
Sianor Hilderd looked down at Hailon.
His wrinkled eyes held that familiar expression of a squinting smile.
Hailon asked him quietly.
"Have you come to 'educate' me."
Sianor Hilderd examined Hailon with a look of mild surprise.
"Since when have you concerned yourself with such things?"
"I requested a week's rest. I ask that you grant me peace now."
....
At my firm response, Sianor Hilderd fell silent for a moment.
His eyebrows twitched.
Yet soon enough, Sianor Hilderd recovered his benevolent expression.
"Education? Never have you made such a request before. Suddenly taking leave... I grew concerned and came to see you."
Concerned.
He must have been concerned.
Not for Hailon, but for his own safety.
"The temple matter has been resolved well. Both Duchess Ibroyel and Count Basilian sent letters directly."
They offered sincere apologies, claiming it was all a misunderstanding, and contributed funds for the temple's reconstruction.
"I received a report from Daren. He said you used the child as bait for the investigation, but you still lack definitive proof of heresy, do you not? Return the child to her family."
Hailon did not answer.
At that, Sianor Hilderd let out a hearty laugh.
Hailon maintained his cold expression and continued in silence.
It was disrespectful, yet the Holy King did not reproach Hailon.
He paid no mind to my silence, instead reminiscing with evident amusement.
"You were always like that. Whenever something displeased you, you would seal your lips shut. You would choose punishment over honest words—such stubborn resolve."
Memories that only Sianor Hilderd cherished as nostalgia.
The recollection of being educated and beaten bloomed crimson across my mind.
Hailon slowly lowered his gaze.
It was to conceal any hint of defiance toward the Holy King.
"You are the finest blade I have ever forged, Hailon."
His hand came to rest upon my head.
Despising the touch of others, I endured the sensation like that of an insect crawling across my skin.
The artificial limb concealed beneath the glove responded to Hailon's presence, scattering forth a subtle luminescence.
Sianor Hilderd rolled up his sleeve to confirm the sacred light, his voice trembling with emotion.
"I poured everything into creating you...."
After caressing me for some time, Sianor Hilderd's hand withdrew.
He gazed upon the artificial limb now devoid of light with an expression of genuine regret, then exhaled a shallow sigh.
He lowered his sleeve to conceal the prosthetic once more, and spoke.
"I trust you, Hailon. Do as you wish."
"Thank you."
"Are you attending the Pure Child Prayer Ceremony?"
"...Yes."
"I shall keep watch over you."
The Holy King's affectionate words were spoken with evident satisfaction.
It stemmed from his confirmation that Hailon remained firmly within his grasp.
A happiness savored in ignorance of the truth.
The truth that the Holy King's blade would soon turn upon its master.
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org