How Could the Villainous Young Master Be a Saintess?

Why is the structure of this one existing Marsmo secret realm so chaotic??

Isatia had felt that way the moment she stepped in—everything inside seemed out of place—and Aesphyra had noticed as well.

Mm, even Vinny, under the sway of the mood, gradually picked up on the clues.

If he didn’t think along those lines... would he be the odd one out??

Looking at it now, this secret realm... does feel a little off, doesn’t it??

Prompted by Aesphyra and Isatia, Vinny slowly came around.

If this realm is neither something passively formed from a civilization’s leftover force, nor does it look artificially made—then how exactly was it born??

The Marsmo realm was discovered on short notice—maybe right as the long holiday began—so Carillian Academy only did the basic Anchor setup. The rest of the work hadn’t officially begun. Let the students scout a pass first; as long as Anchors are in place, students won’t be in real danger. Even if they get some scrapes, there’s a line of sisters and priests waiting back here to treat them.

“Hold up—if I’m not misremembering, didn’t the instructor say we have at most three days to find the pre-realm key? If we exceed three days, the realm wipes us and we pop back to the Anchor,” Vinny suddenly remembered. “Those three days—what do they refer to? Time in the realm, or time on the Tyrelis Continent??”

“I think, since they brought hourglasses, they’re estimating by Tyrelis’s flow of time,” Aesphyra said, shading her eyes and looking up at a sun that still hadn’t shifted much. “If it were three days by the realm’s time... who knows how long that would actually be.”

Ahh, that sounds complicated.

Vinny rubbed his head.

Given the situation, his stomach was empty—better eat first.

So Vinny took out the bread he always carried—baked for him by Shicodale—and started eating.

Aesphyra and Isatia had brought food too; he didn’t need to worry about them. Though, neither of them looked very hungry.

Munching on bread, Vinny thought.

After a brief reflection, Isatia looked ahead—as if the residential district held nothing more worth noting. She gave the area a sweep with a Recording Stone, logged it, then set off in the lead.

They continued on. Aesphyra’s and Isatia’s minds were clearly spinning through clue after clue in the realm; only Vinny’s brain was in power-save mode with ultra-low usage, thinking things like “this bread is so good—Shicodale’s gotten better” and “eating in a desert is a pain—you have to figure out how to shield your food from the sand” and the like.

Soon, a colossal shape loomed in the sea of yellow sand. Aesphyra and Isatia had noticed it ages earlier, while Vinny—thanks to his comparatively scuffed senses and stats—only after a long delay perceived the shadow and outline of the massive structure in the dunes.

“What is that supposed to be?” Vinny was turning into a hundred-thousand whys, asking about everything he saw in the realm.

Because, honestly, he didn’t know a thing.

Judging by the feel of it, the giant ahead had similarities to the previous temple. The only praiseworthy feature was sheer size; otherwise, there was nothing to draw the eye—like an enormous red-brick block and nothing more. No refined craftsmanship. Nothing to celebrate.

And yet these huge red-brick block buildings gave off a different feeling—like they were stained with a certain royal aura.

Vinny looked at the cluster of massive buildings, then glanced back toward the residential quarter.

Mm, you couldn’t see the residences anymore, but these huge buildings seemed to overlook all Marsmo architecture.

“Could this be Marsmo’s royal palace?” Vinny blurted. He’d seen plenty of buildings in this style: the Camella royal palace, and—in dreams—the main hall of the Dawn Church’s headquarters, all similar to the seemingly plain, undecorated structure before them.

Maybe supreme rulers living long in a place imbue architecture with kingly aura—or maybe it’s the master builder’s skill that lets the momentum difference hit you at a glance??

Vinny couldn’t say.

“Oh? Even Classmate Vinny can see it? Then it must be pretty obvious. One has to praise the excellence of Marsmo architects,” Aesphyra teased, arms folded.

“Tsk! Quit looking down on people, okay?” Vinny shot her a look. “I do have some taste. I’ve seen lots of royal palaces, alright?”

Since it was Marsmo’s palace, the inside was bound to hold plenty of information—maybe even the key to deeper layers.

All three thought so, so of course they decided to search further.

Like other Marsmo buildings, the palace’s aboveground portion was just a marker; the true palace was below.

They entered the enormous “marker,” the stairs spiraling down. Who knew how long it took to reach the palace entrance.

“Weird. Why is there wind here?” Vinny asked.

“In a palace this large there are certainly vents—just hidden,” Aesphyra quipped. “What did you think, Vinny?”

Vinny looked out as the view opened up—and realized he’d truly underestimated the scale of this underground palace.

Just because Marsmo built the palace underground didn’t mean it wasn’t luxurious. They were conquerors once—how could their arts lag behind??

A vast palace stretched out of sight. At intervals stood crystal lamps; from the ceiling hung a gigantic golden chandelier forged of magic crystal.

Yes, there were puckers and cracks along the walls, lending the whole palace a touch of decay—but precisely for that reason, you could better imagine how grand it had been in its prime.

On either side of the entrance stood a wolf-headed soldier in gleaming gold armor, each gripping a long-hafted golden axe—solemn, facing the entryway, baring ferocity at the approach, as if they’d been on watch here for ages untold.

And after they passed inside, they saw on the back of each statue’s head a second face—one inscribed with submission and reverence—turned toward the throne in the great hall.

Plainly Marsmo’s message: outsiders entering the palace must first accept the envoy-king’s scrutiny, purge malice and disrespect, and only then proceed. Before their king, they must offer respect and fealty.

Looks like the Marsmo really loved the color gold—and actual gold. Their armor shone like sun, surely gilded and even draped in gold. The palace was the same: outside, nothing much; inside, borders of walls, carpets, long tables, the throne, counters—everything embraced that material. Under the crystal light, the palace wore a skin of gold-sand, glittering everywhere.

Like the temple entrance, the palace entry bore an Academy notice, advising that the area ahead was unexplored and urging students to act within their limits, and warning that many items inside couldn’t be moved—and even if movable, taking them might trigger mechanisms.

Vinny eyed the luxurious furnishings. So... most of this stuff can’t be moved, huh?

He had zero desire to test it. These were artifacts, rich in research value. He might love money, but he wouldn’t touch this. Besides, he’d been goofing off this whole trip—if he moved something and triggered a trap, he’d screw his teammates, wouldn’t he?

Hands off. Play it safe, play it safe.

“This underground palace is huge. Let’s split up for clues—more efficient,” Isatia said.

“No problem. But let’s not stray too far, and don’t fiddle with things. If you find something, alert your teammates first,” Aesphyra said, glancing at Vinny—clearly aimed at him.

“I know that,” Vinny shot back, annoyed.

They split. Isatia went right, Aesphyra left, and Vinny headed straight into the rooms behind the main hall.

Behind the throne—beyond the cold furnace—loomed a massive mural. Besides Marsmo’s signature Celestial Diagram, it depicted the two statues of “Eternity” and “Continuance.” Oddly, the many-limbed, tail-biting Ouroboros that symbolized “Continuance” had a large portion burned away for unknown reasons.

Mm. This was the one badly damaged spot in the great hall.

“Man, this palace is big, huh?” Vinny sighed as he passed the throne and entered the corridor behind it.

Five carriages could ride abreast in that corridor, and the rooms off it were countless, their purposes unknown.

No way—do I have to search all these rooms??

If so, are three days really enough??

Vinny had his doubts.

He stepped into a room with the door left ajar. Inside, crystal lamps burned, illuminating the chaos within.

It looked like a former storeroom, except—

Knife-marks and scorch-marks on the walls—battle had clearly broken out here, same as in the great hall.

Compared to the relatively intact sections of the palace, this place was a chicken coop—hit with indiscriminate attacks; unrecognizable charred things were everywhere; sections of wall had crumbled.

Vinny checked other rooms and found the same—severely damaged. Footprints everywhere—as if many people had stormed in—and the rooms had been scourged by war.

Figures. A battle happened here; enemy soldiers must have invaded.

If even the palace suffered... how could Marsmo not be doomed?

See? I wasn’t wrong—Marsmo must have been defeated by an uprising of slaves.

Wait—that seems off!

Suddenly, Vinny’s IQ came online. He thought of an inconsistency.

If the slave army had truly fought their way into the palace, why was the great hall—aside from a few cracks—astonishingly tidy, practically intact??

And slaves would have hated the Marsmo who wrecked their countries and homes. Even with internal differences, once they broke into the Marsmo palace, they’d destroy it—burn the throne.

But what he saw was a throne untouched.

So why were the rooms blasted to bits?

Vinny left the room, checked several more. His brain, running on residual heat, slowly spun up.

The corridor had very few traces of magical bombardment or blade-chops—the damage was all inside rooms. Whoever attacked the palace didn’t seem intent on destroying it; on the contrary, they strained to prevent the palace from taking too much damage while rooting out the enemy.

If it was because the rooms’ interiors were tight spaces—good for hiding people?

Whereas the corridors and great hall remained intact because they were vast—no way to hide, no way to resist.

Maybe, at the time, palace guards were hiding in these rooms, forcing the attackers to storm them and blast them—turning each doorway along the corridor into a magical firefight.

But since this was the ancient era—magic was primitive, Spirit Soul ranks generally low—the magic of the time wasn’t enough to completely obliterate the rooms.

As for why the great hall showed almost no magical bombardment—

Because the attacking side had no intention of destroying the palace.

Then... why?

Vinny thought of one possibility: this was a Marsmo civil war, not a slave army assaulting the royal city.

If both sides claimed to be legitimate, there’d be no need to wreck the palace—on the contrary, they’d do their utmost to keep it intact.

All at once, Vinny realized a blind spot.

The statues in the temple had misled them into thinking Marsmo’s fall had something to do with slave uprisings.

But what if that slave revolt never made a splash at all?

What if Marsmo fell for another reason.

Combine that with what they’d seen before—

Ahhh—he was almost there—he almost had it!

But why did it feel like something was still missing??

No good!

His brain’s CPU usage... just wouldn’t go up!

In a daze, as Vinny was about to step out of a room, his foot caught on something and he stumbled.

“Ow!” He hit the floor, crashing into a cabinet.

Clatter! A black, flake-like object tumbled out of the cabinet and landed right before his eyes.