Chapter 95

Chapter 95
Alon went quiet after hearing Yuman speak.

To be more precise, he was lost in his own thoughts.

‘What does he mean by that?’

Behind his impassive face, he hid his confusion as he turned Yuman’s words over in his head.

‘Carrying the same weight as me? Maybe even a greater one…? What is that supposed to mean?’

Alon studied Yuman. The unmistakable respect and admiration in Yuman’s gaze confirmed that his words were sincere and not some kind of jest.

“…???”

Alon only grew more puzzled.

‘Does he genuinely believe I’m that significant? Is it something along those lines?’

He thought back to the recent admiration and favor shown to him by the priests, but he dismissed the idea just as quickly.

No matter how he looked at it, Yuman’s statement didn’t sound like ordinary respect or reverence.

So—

“Excuse me, but… what are you referring to?”

“Hm?”

“You mentioned that I carry the same burden as you. What did you mean by that?”

Alon chose to be direct. Since subtlety seemed lost on Yuman, he decided to pose the question plainly this time.

Without any hesitation, Yuman elaborated.

“I meant precisely what I said. We shoulder similar responsibilities, though yours are greater than my own.”

“…Mine?”

“Yes.”

Even with this clarification, Alon was no closer to understanding Yuman’s meaning.

However, one thing was becoming clear:

‘He’s clearly operating under some kind of misconception.’

There was definitely a misunderstanding at play.

From Alon’s perspective, he could see no common ground between himself and Yuman.

By rank alone, Alon was born into the noble Palatio family, while Yuman was an orphan raised in an orphanage. Their backgrounds were vastly different—Alon had enjoyed a leisurely upbringing, cutting into the meat served at his family’s table and living as he pleased, while Yuman had been chosen as a Saint in his youth after a difficult childhood.

Beyond that, their personalities, inclinations, and even their core values were completely opposite.

Based on what Alon knew of Yuman, they shared absolutely nothing in common.

‘Should I correct him?’

He debated with himself.

Not only had he realized that Yuman was misunderstanding something, but he also knew that Yuman’s kindness was rooted in this error.

In other words, clearing up the misunderstanding here and now might cause that kindness to vanish.

Torn by this dilemma, Alon finally concluded:

‘I need to say something.’

In the end, he resolved to set the record straight.

Of course, he didn’t want to harm their relationship. After all, Yuman was the right-hand man of Eliban, the protagonist of Psychedelia, and the Saint of the Holy Kingdom.

But from past experience, Alon knew that the longer such misunderstandings were allowed to continue, the worse the fallout would be when the truth eventually surfaced.

So, after careful thought, he finally spoke.

“Saint.”

“Yes, Marquis?”

“I believe there has been a misunderstanding. To be clear, I am not in the same situation as you.”

Alon spoke firmly, determined to correct Yuman’s mistaken belief.

But—

“Yes, I understand. The Marquis bears a far greater burden than I do. Perhaps you are walking a path that no one else can even recognize.”

…???

Hearing Yuman’s reply, which suggested he understood completely, Alon spoke again.

“No, that isn’t what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“…I meant exactly what I said. This isn’t false humility—I am telling you that I am truly not in the same position as you.”

Alon did his utmost to convey clearly that Yuman’s assumption was incorrect. By the time he finished speaking, he could feel a slight headache forming.

He didn’t know what kind of misunderstanding had taken root, but situations like this usually ended in awkwardness for everyone involved.

Bracing for the inevitable uncomfortable atmosphere, Alon prepared himself, but—

“Oh, I see.”

Contrary to his expectations, Yuman responded lightly, his eyes showing even greater respect.

“My apologies. It seems I was being rather thoughtless.”

“What?”

“It appears I made a mistake. I still have much to learn.”

“Wait, do you truly understand what I’m saying? As I said, I am not in the same position as you at all…”

“Yes, I understand completely.”

Yuman answered with a smile.

His mild reaction was a far cry from the awkwardness Alon had been expecting.

This led Alon to a sudden realization:

‘Does he… not believe me?’

As Alon turned this over in his mind, Yuman spoke once more.

“I apologize if I caused any offense. I never meant to misinterpret your resolve.”

“No, that’s not the issue. You’re misunderstanding—”

“Yes, I understand perfectly, Marquis.”

Before Alon could finish, Yuman spoke in a tone that seemed to say, “Of course, of course, I get it. There’s no need to explain further.”

His attitude, as though he fully grasped the situation and was merely humoring him, left Alon at a loss for words.

‘What… I’m telling you it’s a misunderstanding… what is this?’

Alon felt a wave of internal disbelief.

“Well then, Marquis, I will pray that the goddess Sironia blesses you.”

With those words, Yuman left the room.

Alon was left alone, staring blankly at the door Yuman had just walked through, unable to form a response.

***

Three days had passed since then. By now, the symptoms of Alon’s mana depletion had mostly faded, and Yutia came to visit him.

“Are you feeling better, sir?”

“Yes.”

Seeing Alon nod, Yutia, who had been accompanying Yuman on his daily visits, smiled in relief.

She then reached into her robes and handed Alon a black fragment.

“Is this… an Abyssal Core?”

“Yes. It appears, just as you suspected, that Anderde had been using Abyssal Cores. We have confirmed at least forty so far.”

“…Forty?”

“Yes, and that is only what we have found. There may be more.”

Hearing this, Alon stared at the hollow, gray cube, now drained of its power, and considered the implications.

“Using Abyssal Cores to create Outer Gods…”

Of course, Alon had no prior knowledge of this.

In Psychedelia, Abyssal Cores were not introduced until much later. Even then, they were simply treated as a game mechanic to scale monster levels to match the player’s progress.

In short, Psychedelia never explored the lore behind Abyssal Cores, so Alon was entirely in the dark.

“Even if these Outer Gods are artificially created, the distinction is clear. Still, the fact that Abyssal Cores can produce Outer Gods is not something we can ignore.”

If Abyssal Cores were in circulation, it meant incidents like this could happen anywhere.

Having reached that conclusion, he spoke.

“Yutia.”

“Yes, sir?”

“If you uncover any information about where these Abyssal Cores are being distributed, please inform me.”

“Understood.”

He decided to give Yutia a lead to investigate the distribution of Abyssal Cores. He knew that the Holy Kingdom maintained its own network of informants, rather than relying on information guilds.

‘Those people are swift when it comes to heretical matters. If I leave this with Yutia, I’ll likely get information faster than through the guild.’

As Alon continued his discussion with Yutia about the Abyssal Cores, a sudden thought crossed his mind.

‘Could it be… the Forgotten One?’

The idea flashed briefly, but he quickly dismissed it, regaining his composure.

A fully realized Outer God born from such a phenomenon would not be so careless.

Ending his train of thought there, Alon spent the next two days in further conversation with Yutia.

***

Around that time:

“Are you leaving now, sir?”

“Well, I’ve finished what I came here to do.”

“I see.”

Alon began preparing to depart the Holy Kingdom, though not alone—

“Oh, hello…! Marquis!”

“Myaon…? What a coincidence. It seems we’ll be traveling together again this time.”

He was joined by the mercenary group he had not seen during his entire stay in the Holy Kingdom for the title Investiture ceremony.

“Y-Yes…! What a coincidence!”

“It’s been a while… but why are you suddenly using formal speech?”

“Ah—well, it’s because… oh! Now that you’re a Marquis, the difference in rank feels… rather significant?”

Myaon seemed uncertain whether their excuse made sense, and Alon was left bewildered.

“Please take good care of the Lord.”

“Understood.”

“Do you hear me?”

“Y-Yes…!”

Watching Myaon snap to attention at Yutia’s words, Alon instinctively glanced in her direction.

“Well then, I will await your letter.”

“Of course. I’ll write as soon as I return.”

Her calm farewell gave Alon little room to say more.

‘It should be fine.’

With a brief goodbye, Alon left the Holy Kingdom.

***

Shortly after Alon’s departure from the Holy Kingdom—

Deep within Yutia’s office, a report was being delivered.

“Three more have been discovered.”

Sergius stood before Yutia, delivering his update.

“What is the total?”

“Including the ones just found, there are 43 in total. However, it is likely that far more are buried in the underground waterways.”

Despite both holding the rank of Cardinal, Sergius addressed Yutia with formal language, his posture rigid. Yutia, for her part, accepted his formality as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Neither found this dynamic strange. If anything, Sergius felt a peculiar sense of comfort in this arrangement, as though it was exactly how things were meant to be.

Perhaps that was why—

“Cardinal Yutia.”

“What is it?”

“May I ask you a question?”

For the first time, Sergius found himself asking something he had never dared to before.

“What is it?”

“…Why did you allow the Chief Cardinal to proceed as far as he did without intervening?”

Sergius knew the truth.

He was aware that Yutia had long known what the Chief Cardinal was planning. After all, a year ago, she had instructed him to investigate Anderde’s activities in the underground waterways.

Not only that, she had even arranged for him to steal several of the Abyssal Cores they had been gathering within the statues.

In fact, the reason the Machina that appeared a week ago had failed to stabilize into the form of an Outer God and remained as unstable vines was due to the shortage of Abyssal Cores.

This meant that Yutia could have halted the Chief Cardinal’s plans long before they came to fruition.

And so, unable to contain his curiosity, Sergius had asked the question—

“Ah…”

Realizing he had overstepped, his face filled with panic.

“Why didn’t I stop it, you ask…?”

Yutia let out a light chuckle, as if amused, before answering.

“Let me explain.”

She slowly opened a drawer in her desk.

Wuuung—

From it, nine Abyssal Cores, brought by Sergius, rose into the air.

After briefly inspecting the floating cores, Yutia destroyed them without a second thought.

CRACK—! CRACKLE!

With a single gesture, she shattered the Abyssal Cores—each one worth a fortune on the black market, so valuable that purchasing a single one would require selling an entire estate.

After reducing them to fragments, she spoke:

“It wasn’t to steal these.”

With a flick of her fingers, the shattered pieces fell to the floor of the office.

“This garbage holds no value for me.”

Sergius, swallowing hard as he stared at the fragments, was startled when Yutia addressed him.

“Hey, Sergius.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know what gods consume to grow?”

“Gods… consume?”

“Yes, all gods, including the great goddess Sironia.”

At Yutia’s question, Sergius answered cautiously:

“…A god is a complete and perfect being, is it not?”

A guarded response.

Yutia, smiling, shook her head.

“No, that is not the case.”

“Gods require two things: faith and reverence.”

“Faith… and reverence?”

“Yes. And this time, it was simply ‘reverence’ from the people that was needed.”

As a profound smile spread across Yutia’s lips, a vivid memory replayed in her mind.

The scene from a week ago.

Under the blue moon, Alon hurling a spear of lightning at the Outer God.

“A moment more brilliant and breathtaking than anything else.”

—The magnificent image of the Great moon.

“—A sight that would remain etched in everyone’s memory.”

Her smile widened, her expression serene yet unsettling.

“Reverence meant for him alone.”

Her eyes gleamed with a dark amusement.

Within the crimson depths of her gaze, the scene replayed again and again—the radiance, the grandeur, the awe of that moment.

“And that… is the reason.”

With her answer, Sergius could do nothing but swallow dryly and nod.

For in her eyes, a sharp and unmistakable madness shone—a dangerous glint that warned him never to overstep again.