The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Chapter 299: Seventh Circle (1)
Ten minutes before Lloyd regained consciousness,
an old man walked slowly along the deck with his hands folded behind his back, lost in thought.
‘Should I move to the side the moment the sword disappears...? No, perhaps it’s better to sharpen my intent and counter directly instead.’
It was none other than the Heavenly Sword.
When he had been forcefully transported onto the airship, he’d been a gravely injured man on the verge of collapse—
yet after receiving treatment from the priests, he recovered within mere hours.
Truly the recovery and resilience befitting a knight standing at the threshold of Level 8.
“Hm.”
The moment he regained consciousness, he’d wanted to return to the island at once—
but by then, it was already far too late.
Fortunately, it was the good kind of too late.
‘To think Belpher is already dead...’
Honestly, it still felt unreal.
The moment he fell, the very first thing that flashed through his mind had been worry for the expedition party.
He had desperately fought against the darkness clouding his mind, trying to stay awake—
but his wounds at the time had simply been too severe.
‘I suppose it’s a relief things turned out well.’
The Heavenly Sword lowered his hands and looked at them.
Deep wrinkles had settled between the knuckles and across the back of his hands, like long-time tenants.
Once, even a blade couldn’t leave a scratch on them—
yet time showed no mercy.
With a faint smile, he retracted his hands and closed his eyes.
‘I must acknowledge it. I was arrogant.’
He had believed that no enemy under heaven could stand against someone who had reached the very peak of Level 8.
And truthfully, he still thought that was largely correct.
But that was no excuse for letting his guard down in front of a strong foe.
‘Of course, the holy sword shattering like dust wasn’t my fault...’
Yet in battle, anticipating and preventing such variables was also a part of one’s skill.
Had he inspected the blade even once before accepting it, none of that would have happened.
He was as strict with himself as he was with others—no, stricter.
“......”
He continued replaying the fight in his mind.
A sword grows sharper the more it is honed.
This ordeal, too, would push his long-stagnant skill one step further.
“Hoo...”
Opening his eyes as his thoughts settled, he unknowingly let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Had this expedition ended poorly, a nasty inner demon would surely have taken root.
With that thought, one person came to mind.
‘Oscar Crucian.’
He had heard the general outline of what happened after he blacked out.
That Oscar had become a vessel for divinity—
and consumed every last bit of that power to defeat Belpher.
‘The more I learn about him, the stranger he gets.’
There were countless people obsessed with the tiniest scraps of power.
No—calling them “countless” was generous.
The majority of humanity fit that bill.
Even those who screamed of purity and denounced corruption became indistinguishable from the corrupt once given the same position and the same authority.
But Oscar had thrown away an unprecedented divine power without hesitation.
‘Well... having such a vessel is probably why he was chosen in the first place.’
He wondered briefly whether he could have done the same.
If that kind of power had come to him back when he was merely Level 6...
Could he have cast it aside, the way Oscar had, in pursuit of what he believed was right?
“......”
A difficult question.
Right now, he was certain he could.
But the younger version of himself...?
He wasn’t so sure.
“Hm.”
Thinking about it, that kid Oscar really didn’t act like a kid at all.
Sometimes he was inexplicably irritating—
and whenever that happened...
‘...he reminds me of someone.’
The vague memory made his head itch.
Then, the Heavenly Sword suddenly stopped walking.
Narrowing his eyes, he stared at the figure standing by the railing.
‘...Lloyd Schultz.’
The one known as the Ashen Mage.
He couldn’t say he liked the man.
At best, he tolerated him—barely.
From an outsider’s perspective, Lloyd had switched allegiances twice—
a veritable bat fluttering between towers.
There might be reasons, but reasons were reasons, and facts were facts.
“......”
When their eyes met, Lloyd’s face showed clear disappointment.
The Heavenly Sword disliked that expression immediately.
He wanted to snap something back—
but the boy’s condition stopped him.
His unfocused pupils trembled with deep anxiety.
His already dry lips were split and bleeding, likely bitten raw.
The Heavenly Sword’s heart wavered for an instant.
‘Right now...’
A light push would be enough to shake him, to extract whatever information he wanted—
why he left the Red Tower for the White,
why someone at Level 8 behaved so timidly around Oscar, and so forth.
As he organized his thoughts, he spoke suddenly.
“If you’re worrying about Oscar Crucian—he’s alive.”
“......?”
Lloyd’s eyes widened slightly.
Full of confusion.
“You look terrible, so I assumed it was because you were worried about him.”
“......”
He neither affirmed nor denied it.
But his breathing calmed instantly—
which told the Heavenly Sword everything he needed to know.
After a moment, Lloyd asked,
“...Why did you tell me that?”
“Hm.”
The Heavenly Sword considered his words, then replied.
“The White Tower has helped me quite a bit lately. That’s all.”
“......”
Lloyd hesitated, then bowed his head slightly.
“...Thank you for telling me.”
“Hmph.”
The Heavenly Sword snorted.
At that moment, two sets of footsteps approached.
“Hm. Now this is a fresh combination, isn’t it?”
“Don’t tell me you were harassing innocent people again.”
It was Archbishop Baldwin and Oscar.
The Heavenly Sword frowned at their approach.
“Harassing? Who’s harassing whom?”
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
“You, of course. Lloyd doesn’t harass people.”
“Ridiculous. Are you saying I harass others?”
“Be honest—you kind of enjoy it, don’t you?”
“......”
...He couldn’t fully deny it.
Before he could respond, Lloyd suddenly cut in urgently.
“What happened?”
“Ah, I’ll explain.”
Still pale and tired, Baldwin placed a hand on Oscar’s shoulder.
“Our dear Oscar here was chosen as the Vessel of the Holy Power Itaca, and used that power to defeat Belpher.”
“...A vessel of divinity? Is that harmful to the body?”
“Not particularly. If anything, it makes one healthier. But... shouldn’t you first ask what a divine vessel is?”
Baldwin looked mildly offended that Lloyd’s first concern was Oscar, not the grand explanation he’d prepared.
Lloyd bowed slightly.
“...My apologies. So—what is it?”
“Good grief. Anyway—it means the holy power chose Oscar as the vessel to contain itself. Of course, he has since lost all of that power.”
“You mean he used all of it to erase Belpher?”
“Correct.”
The Heavenly Sword interjected.
“But even if he lost the power, can’t he simply store it in his subspace again and recover it? Like before?”
“My thoughts exactly,”
Baldwin agreed.
“Oscar, how about it? Surely you can use it for another five minutes?”
“Impossible.”
Oscar shook his head instantly.
He then began explaining the mechanics of subspace stacking—
observer interference, temporal flow, etc.
After a long explanation.
“Hm, I see.”
“Indeed. Perfectly clear.”
“......”
They definitely did not understand.
Lloyd sighed and offered a simpler explanation.
“In short, the holy sword was an object, so storing it in subspace restored it naturally. But now the divinity resides inside Oscar’s body, meaning he would have to enter subspace himself—and humans can’t live a thousand years. Therefore, it’s impossible.”
“Aha! Now I get it perfectly!”
“Not that I didn’t understand before, but yes, it makes more sense now.”
Oscar raised a thumb toward Lloyd, proud of his “education.”
Baldwin moved on.
“Well then, we must discuss your future role as a saint.”
“...Excuse me?”
A saint?
Oscar blinked—completely blindsided.
Baldwin smiled warmly.
“Oh come now, surely you understand. Serving as a saint would be beneficial for everyone.”
“...Honestly, I don’t really want to.”
After all, the divinity didn’t even respond when he called it.
He had used it exactly once.
Being tied to the church because of that?
He wasn’t thrilled.
Seeing Oscar genuinely hesitant, Baldwin’s expression stiffened.
“W-why not? A saint is respected and revered by all!”
“...I don’t really care about praise.”
He’d had more than enough of that already.
“And the imperial family wouldn’t dare pressure you either!”
“That’s also... not really a problem.”
The emperor already backed him.
As Oscar kept refusing, Baldwin grew increasingly desperate.
“Then... then what do you expect me to do!?”
“Can’t you just take the divinity back? I mean, it has some wear, but I only used it once—”
“Agh! Do you think divinity is some second-hand commodity!?”
Baldwin clutched his temples.
“Anyway—divinity is not something humans can handle freely. It chooses its own master!”
“Then what should I do? It doesn’t even answer when I call it.”
“P-please... don’t talk about holy power like it’s a bothersome pet...”
It was bothersome, but Oscar swallowed that remark.
“I’ll try, at least. Ah—come to think of it, the expedition’s reward distribution is going to be messy now.”
“Ugh...”
Baldwin groaned.
The church was supposed to reward the Heavenly Sword family by lending them the Holy Sword Itaca for 30 years.
But Oscar had... consumed it.
Which, yes, made things complicated.
“It’s fine.”
Surprisingly, the Heavenly Sword waved it away calmly.
“If holy power chooses its bearer, I have no right to complain.”
“I—is that truly acceptable?”
“I don’t take back my word. If it still bothers you, then simply say the holy sword broke in my hands. Not untrue, after all.”
Baldwin was moved.
Oscar nodded casually.
“Well, that’s not wrong. You did break it.”
“...I broke it?”
“The moment you grabbed it, it crumbled to dust.”
“You could’ve checked its condition once before handing it over.”
“How should I know anything about swords? You’ve been swinging them for a hundred years, so I figured you’d know better.”
“......”
Infuriating brat.
That smooth forehead of his—
one good flick would be so satisfying...
While the Heavenly Sword stared at Oscar’s forehead with murderous intent, Baldwin sighed.
“Well, after such a grand expedition, it seems none of us walked away with much.”
“What do you mean, nothing?”
Oscar walked to the railing and pointed at the sea.
“We got that.”
Before them was not the pitch-black, corrupted sea they had seen on their way in—
but a clear, refreshing blue ocean.
Sunlight danced across the surface, scattering dazzling silver patterns.
“Mm. True,”
Lloyd said, nodding as he admired it.
“A magnificent sight indeed,”
Baldwin smiled.
Only the Heavenly Sword looked unimpressed.
“Hmph. What’s so great about that?”
“Oh, don’t be like that. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Looks no different from any canal I’ve seen.”
“...I wasn’t going to say this, but—do you know how massive this is for the economy? Humanity reclaiming the Western Sea means skyrocketing coastal property values, trade through maritime routes, revitalized industries—”
Before Oscar could finish, the Heavenly Sword grumbled.
“And what does that matter to me? My house is in the east.”
“......”
Only then did they understand why he’d been so dismissive.
The old man was just jealous.
‘Honestly...’
Oscar shook his head, half amused, then turned back to the brilliant scenery.
For a long expedition,
it was a surprisingly peaceful afternoon.
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]

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