"Damn it, that scared the hell out of me..."
Back in his room, Herbert let out a long breath and collapsed onto the bed, feeling drained.
"What an ambush. I almost fell for it!"
This time, Herbert had approached the Bishop of Thorns himself to report someone, and he had already been on full alert, terrified of letting something slip.
Even so, someone hidden in the shadows had influenced his thoughts without him noticing, and he had come within a hair's breadth of exposing himself.
"Aren't you supposed to be clergy? How can you be so underhanded?"
A bunch of old bastards with no sense of fair play, ganging up on an eighteen-year-old like me... This is outrageous!
Those tactics were so dirty that even I, someone contracted to an Evil God, couldn't stand them.
"You're already using mind control. What else are you doing behind the scenes, corrupting minds and purging personalities?"
"No, I need better protection for my soul! I have to find a way to keep armoring it!"
After having his thoughts tampered with by both Nenasya and the Rusty Nail Bishop, Herbert was on the verge of developing post-traumatic stress.
"Getting stronger takes time, and the abilities I gain from Magical Beast materials won't all protect my soul. What should I do?"
After thinking it over for a while, Herbert suddenly had an idea.
"If internal upgrades won't work, I'll use external gear!"
He climbed out of bed, sat down at his desk, pulled out a sheet of writing paper, and began writing rapidly.
"Dear Father, it's your favorite second son. It's been a while. Please send money... No, that's too affectionate."
Swish.
Herbert took another sheet of paper and started over:
"Esteemed Duke Albert, this is Herbert. It has been some time since I last sent my regards. I hope all remains well with you, and may the grace and wisdom of the Gods ever be at your side."
"All is well with me at the Monastery. This place is holy, yet the nonhumans within the Prison are dangerous, and my soul is frequently assailed."
"Thus I, your second son, standing at the boundary where light and shadow intertwine, humbly beseech your aid."
"What I seek is neither gold nor silver, nor power or glory, but merely a wondrous item capable of protecting the soul."
"I hope for your understanding and would be most grateful."
Once he finished, Herbert frowned and pondered for a while.
"Hmm... That doesn't sound quite right."
The wording was distant enough, but it still seemed a little too affectionate and deferential.
Why did it feel like I was begging someone?
No!
Swish.
This time, Herbert dispensed with the formalities and wrote simply and directly:
"Duke Albert, this is Herbert."
"Darkness assails me. I require protection for my soul."
Good!
Looking at the family letter he had written in just a few strokes, Herbert nodded in satisfaction.
Look at that. What a beautifully written letter!
Utterly blunt, with an ice-cold tone, the entire letter had just one message-old man, send money!
"Heh. That'll do."
Herbert did not know whether his father had taken part in the plot to frame him, but at least the two of them had not quarreled when they parted in the Royal Capital.
Since they had not openly fallen out, he could ask for things without hesitation.
The role he was playing in this letter was that of a withdrawn monk who had shut away his heart after being persecuted, an icy machine who had forgotten what love was and felt nothing...
"So, does this outcome make you happy? Or does it make you sad and regretful? I really look forward to the expression on your face when you read this letter."
Unfortunately, he would not be able to see it for himself anytime soon.
At the same time, he was certain this family letter would not end up on the duke's desk alone. Those secretly watching him would surely see it too.
After reading it, would they become even more convinced that Herbert had lost all hope and intended to retreat from the world?
Would smug smiles spread across their faces?
"I'll let you keep smiling a little longer."
As for whether Duke Albert would actually send him a Magic Artifact, Herbert did not particularly care.
Something for nothing, after all.
Asking might get me nothing, but not asking definitely would.
I'd just try my luck!
If he sent it, fine.
If he did not, forget it. Herbert would simply pretend he had no father.
Friends, grow a thicker skin. A lot of things really aren't as hard as you imagine.
Herbert wrote only that one letter and did not attempt to contact anyone else.
His mother in this life had died of illness ten years earlier, and no one at home was worth missing anymore.
He had once been on good terms with his two brothers, but they were far too suspicious after his downfall, and he could not be bothered to test them.
After entrusting the letter to another monk to send and returning to his room, Herbert still had some time before nightfall.
"This Harmonic God really is hopeless!"
"Seriously, are we in some kind of long-distance relationship across countries? We even have to wait for the time difference before we can talk... Tsk."
Herbert waited for a while, growing bored and unsure how to pass the time.
Just as he was getting utterly restless, he suddenly remembered the red hair he had hidden away.
Oh, I have an idea.
"This should be easier to swallow than those scales."
Herbert looked at the strands of hair, which he had rinsed repeatedly and which gleamed translucently in the candlelight, and drew a deep breath.
Having steeled himself, he closed his eyes, grabbed a handful, and stuffed it straight into his mouth. Rather than trying to resist, he attempted to swallow it immediately.
Then...
"Pfft, pfft, pfft... Cough, cough!"
Weird.
This felt way too weird!
The bizarre sensation of hair clinging to his throat, the agony of trying to swallow without being able to, assaulted his soul.
At that moment, Herbert had a strange feeling.
It was as though he had become a stalker who followed someone around, secretly watched their every move, and even collected their shed hair to get himself off.
Wow, that's seriously sick, dude!
Urgh.
In the end, Herbert could not keep going. He spat out all the hair in his mouth and rinsed it several times.
"Blegh-cough, cough. Forget it. I can't swallow this. I'll wait for Nenasya to handle it."
["You ate it?"]
"I did not! Don't make things up, or I'll sue you for slander!"
Herbert flatly denied it, refusing to admit he had done anything of the sort.
["Hehe. Let's say that's what happened."]
Nenasya chuckled, paying no mind to his excuses, and added in a seemingly casual tone:
["Oh dear, I forgot to tell you. Although you do indeed need to consume it, the key lies in your blood."]
Herbert went, "Huh? Oh!"
That did sound familiar, didn't it?
Then why had I insisted on eating it with my mouth?
Could it be... that I actually enjoyed it?
No, no, no.
Impossible. Absolutely impossible!
How could I be that kind of person...?
["All right, my ally. Are you ready?"]
"What do you mean, ready?"
["Be careful. Her will is going to be harder to endure than the previous one."]
"What are you saying...?"
While Herbert was still puzzling over her words, his blood fell onto the crimson strands, and a dense cloud of red mist surged upward.
The next instant.
Fire appeared before Herbert's eyes.
Endless, boundless fire!
Before you continue