How Could the Villainous Young Master Be a Saintess?

[Virtue +60.]

[Current Virtue: 2684.]

“Hey, no way?? Isn’t this way too melodramatic??”

Vinny watched his own body steadily vanish and griped,

“So it really is going to ship me off together with her??”

“And if this is about sub-lineage, why is it that none of Isatia Lanteville’s other relatives are affected at all, yet I—who’m eight poles removed and only have a sliver of a ‘promised attendant’—have to get dragged in too??”

“That, of course, only applies to those participating under the effect of Divine Authority.

Simply put, it triggers on people inside the secret realm. Her other relatives didn’t enter.”

Aesphyra answered with a slight knit to her brows.

“Try to see if you can interrupt the transfer.”

“Interrupt the transfer?? How are you supposed to do that—there isn’t even such an option, okay??”

“Then crush your token right now.

Going by what Aesphyra said, trigger the token’s forced-transfer mechanism. Either way, the moment you enter the deep-buried secret realm, I’m definitely going to disappear.”

“...I’ll try.”

Vinny did as told and crushed his token.

With the token’s shattering, a powerful force yanked up his body and wrapped him in protection.

However, before that strong Anchor force could engage, an even stronger resistance shattered and overrode it; the result was that Vinny, who should have been transmitted back to the Anchor, remained in place—and the transparency of his body did not lift.

“Trouble.” Aesphyra watched, her expression hard.

Her guess came true:

Divine Authority stands above all. Once interfered with by it, any magic, secret art, or technique—transmission by Anchor included—falls under its suppression.

Man-made things cannot be compared with God-made.

Seeing Vinny about to be sent away, Aesphyra braced under the tremendous resistance pressing on her and tossed Vinny several portable alchemicals and magic scrolls.

“Catch.”

Vinny reacted and caught what Aesphyra threw.

And in the very next instant after he caught them, his body turned completely transparent, which showed—

—it seemed to have been waiting for a certain action from Vinny. Everything on him turned transparent together, and then a strand of light was tugged into the Contract Gate, slipping through the seam and entering Marsmo.

After Vinny entered and the name to his right finished being fully traced on the brick, Aesphyra also felt all the resistance on her vanish in an instant.

The furrow between her brows did not ease. She stared silently at the canopy-like Contract Gate, took out her token, and crushed it without hesitation.

That Marsmo’s deep-buried secret realm was constructed by Divine Authority—this was something even she hadn’t anticipated.

In that case, the nature of the matter completely changed. The situation had already

slipped out of control. She had to hurry back to the Academy and hand this over to the instructors, seek their aid, and figure out how to save Isatia and Vinny.

—

Passing through the Contract Gate binding Marsmo and Vinny, Isatia felt she’d arrived in a world utterly unfamiliar. The blinding sunlight made her reflexively shield her eyes; the clank-clank sounds made her raise a brow. Her time was already running short—that was why she’d resorted to this last measure.

Yet the instant she slit her eyes open, a row of sharp long spears inlaid with true gold were leveled at her.

“Quick! Over here—hurry! There’s some kind of foreign woman we’ve never seen before!”

Before Isatia could recover from her astonishment, shouts rose one after another.

“People??”

Isatia was surprised in the extreme. In the shallow-layer secret realm earlier, the three of them hadn’t seen a single living thing—let alone people.

Brown-skinned soldiers with bare forearms stood there now, watching her with wary faces and trying to force her to comply with their weapons.

These people—??

Isatia recalled at once the Marsmo soldiers depicted on the murals in the shallow layer: classic scale armor, gold strings, golden triangular helmets, dark skin, and this style of gold-edged spear and serpent-tail saber.

Under the sun’s reflection, it was like they wore a sheet of gold.

“Foreign woman, what is your name??” Seeing Isatia unresponsive, a Marsmo soldier barked.

“Bring the register. Let him check whether the slave register has this woman!”

“Strange. Where are you from? Which tribe? How is it I’ve never seen your phenotype—such outlandish dress for a foreigner??”

Another soldier followed up.

They were fierce both from habit as professional soldiers and because this was Marsmo’s attitude toward foreigners—treating people as less than people.

“Heh-heh, don’t worry about what tribe she is. I think this woman’s fine stock. If she isn’t on the rolls, strip her and bring her back as a slave!” A Marsmo soldier’s face showed greed and lust.

In fact, not only him; many soldiers, upon seeing Isatia’s features, complexion, figure, and bearing, revealed the same lust-charged looks.

In the Kingdom of Marsmo, slaves have no human rights—lives cheaper than livestock—treated however one pleases without violating any rule.

“Since when is it your turn? Do things by regulation. Do you want the lash??”

“Immediately,” other soldiers chimed in.

Isatia stood in the center without speaking, her face still its usual cold frost.

Even facing such a scene, she remained calm, pondering why she could understand the Marsmo tongue.

Could it be the effect of Divine Authority’s scepters??

That the shallow-layer secret realm contained Marsmo people was not surprising.

As for the deep-buried layer containing Marsmo people—that wasn’t surprising either. After all, the Divine Authority names of Eternity and Continuance matched perfectly with those... and many times over, all of Marsmo’s slaves were drawn entirely into them.

Isatia guessed they very likely truly achieved ‘Eter—

nity and Continuance.’

Mm—in a secret realm, in a false world—they achieved ‘Eternity’ and ‘Continuance.’

Also, the timing felt off.

If her hypothesis was right, then the Kingdom of Marsmo at this moment should be in wartime—that is, to prevent slave uprisings, large numbers of slaves were granted formal status and conscripted.

Isatia looked to the distance. A temple and idols still under construction loomed there, the few-dozen-meter-tall temple body shrouded in radiance. Slaves with numb eyes hauled heavy stone beams up the platform; their backs hunched, bodies nearly bent double by the load.

At such a time of turmoil, development of soul and magic was low; human labor was all the more vital.

“Tch! Why isn’t the register here yet?? Forget it, I’ll bind this woman first.”

Saying so, a Marsmo soldier stepped up to seize Isatia.

Isatia’s eyes cooled. What she hated most was being touched.

Barring surprises, the next second that Marsmo soldier would be pinned dead by Judgment’s golden spears.

Yet just as she flicked her hand, her vision swam black.

She realized something, snatched at her waist—and found it empty.

Already used up?

Even so, she had to hold out and complete this objective.

She’d persisted all these years; was she supposed to throw it away at the final step and let everything go to waste??

Yet for some reason, this backlash came fiercer than usual—as if something long suppressed—an intense fatigue like heavy lead sank into Isatia’s body, locking her limbs. Her knees loosened; her legs buckled.

How—?? It had never before been severe enough to cripple her movement.

Isatia shook her head with effort. The Marsmo soldiers before her doubled and tripled; even her sight began to spin.

Looks like she’d have to be cruel to herself.

“Waa—waa—waa!”

“Thud! Thud!” Just as Isatia prepared to bite the tip of her tongue—using pain to force herself upright—and as the Marsmo soldiers were about to subdue her paralyzed body, a flurry of startled cries spilled from the air, followed by the thudding drop of something heavy.

Everyone fell silent. The fatal blow seemed to have come from the figure who hit the ground feet-up: a blue-haired foreigner in equally outlandish garb.

“Hey—hey—hey—hey—” Vinny staggered to his feet, wiped his neck, and clicked his tongue. “Look at me, making trouble for my young master again.”

“Is this still the Tyrelis Continent??”

The Marsmo soldiers fell silent.

“Hey, hey—Isatia, does it hurt? So you’re here—good thing this secret realm entrance was so close. Once I got in I could hear the transfer, or else I’d have had to wade over to find you.”

Seeing Isatia not far away, Vinny let out a breath.

“...” Isatia watched Vinny; weakness shaded her eyes with confusion and puzzlement.

“Alright, alright, I know you’re dying to know how I followed you. I’m dying to know too, okay?? You think I came to this spooky-ridiculous place because I’ve got nothing better to do? Tch—place this dangerous, who knows how many living dead are buried. Tch—I’m almost scared to death here.”

Vinny grumbled, then sensed the mood around him was off.

He raised his head—and a forest of sharp spears encircled him.

“Hey, watch your tone—who are you yelling at??” Vinny started, then, noticing the Marsmo soldiers surrounding him, pointed at them in astonishment.

“Hey, hey—you know how the Marsmo soldiers we saw on the murals looked like abstract art? Turns out they’re realism. Marsmo folks sure grew into some abstract shapes, huh??”

“Impudent! Foreigner, what nonsense are you spouting?!” a Marsmo soldier raged.

“Foreigner this, foreigner that—don’t you have any foreigners in your ancestors? You look more like a foreigner. Your whole family’s foreigners!”

Vinny sprayed him without mercy—especially since these Marsmo were essentially jungle-dwelling living dead, dead in essence long ago—and stood there hands-in-pockets like he’d never met a worthy opponent.

“Foreigner, and you dare such insolent tongue!!” A soldier snapped a whip at Vinny.

Hands still in his pockets, Vinny grinned. [Armor Fortress] snapped into place, bouncing the whip back—to lash across the Marsmo soldier’s own face.

“Argh!” the soldier screamed.

“Didn’t I say this was the ancient age? The soldiers don’t even have Spirit Souls.”

Vinny dismissed [Armor Fortress] and stuck his tongue out at the soldier.

“Bleh-bleh-bleh. Don’t like it? Come hit me.”

“Foreigner, you seek death!!”

Just then, a plaque slipped from Vinny and fell by his boot.

Realizing something, Vinny snatched it up at once.

“Well now—what’s this? Where did I pick this plaque up from again?”

He lifted his head—and found the soldiers who’d been glaring at him a heartbeat ago were all frozen in place, standing at attention.

Huh??

What’s going on here??

Vinny asked, baffled.

“Ah—so you are a Sub-Priest, my lord. No wonder you have such ability. Forgive us—we failed to recognize you earlier. We were offensive—our apologies.” The Marsmo soldiers’ looks flipped to fawning in an instant as they bowed to Vinny.

“Ah?” Vinny cupped the plaque, glanced at it, then at the soldiers’ reaction—and of course understood the problem lay with the plaque in his hand.

“What is a Sub-Priest supposed to be? Sounds like some kind of official post in the Kingdom of Marsmo??”

Could that plaque he’d picked up by accident be a Sub-Priest’s identification?

But why would these soldiers take him for a Sub-Priest?

He obviously didn’t look like Marsmo. Just on skin tone alone—

—even a blind man could see he definitely wasn’t Marsmo.

Why would they recognize the plaque but not the person??

Or—??

Vinny realized something in a flash.

He recalled what Isatia herself had said before. Could it be that now, whether it was these already-dead Marsmo or the three of them, they were all under the influence of the Divine Authority’s scepters—consciousness bound by some [concept]-ual thing??

Very possible.

“Our deepest apologies, Lord Sub-Priest. Please forgive our earlier offense. We’ll clear the way at once—and please depart here quickly. As you see, the temple works are underway.”

The squad leader pointed toward the still-under-construction temple in the distance.

“As for that foreign woman—take her away!”

The squad leader flicked his head around toward Isatia, hands clasped behind his back—his face changing in an instant.

“I suspect this foreign woman is very likely a spy!”

“Come back.” Before the squad leader could turn away, Vinny called to him.

“Ah—Lord Sub-Priest, do you have further instructions?”

Hearing Vinny stop him, the squad leader thought, So this isn’t over yet, and turned back with a sycophant’s smile.

Knowing he’d gained status privilege from the plaque, now it was Vinny’s turn to project a placid, unruffled aura.

He raised a hand and stood there, cultured affectation all over his face.

He strode up to the squad leader, lifted his chin, and gave him a look rich with meaning.

“Er—Lord Sub-Priest?” The squad leader swallowed, nerves taut.

“A spy? Heh—spy my ass!” Vinny’s palm cracked across the squad leader’s face.

“Ow! Th-then—you know her?” The squad leader took the slap, not daring to hit back, and could only ingratiate himself.

“Whether I know her is none of your damn business.” Vinny snorted.

“Every other breath it’s ‘spy, spy.’ You see a person and call them a spy, drag them off for interrogation. I think you look most like a spy!!”

“I—I’m not! My lord, I am loyal to the gods and to the royal house!”

“Then why are you sticking your nose this wide??”

“Y-you’re right, my lord, but—we have regulations here. A foreigner like her—if she lacks a proper status—must be—”

“Who told you she doesn’t have formal status?” Vinny rolled his eyes at him.

“Ah? Then—is she your... slave?” the squad leader asked, confused.

“She’s my fiancée. Does that not count as formal status?”

The squad leader froze. It was as if Vinny had tripped some hidden trigger; the words jumped out of his mouth.

The moment he said it, not only Isatia, but even Vinny himself was startled.

Wait—what’s going on—what is he saying?!

Why did that sentence tumble out before he could control his mouth?

It was like some subconscious reflex—utterly beyond control.

Shocked, Vinny snuck a glance at Isatia and found her lifting her eyes, fixing him with a gaze full of implication.

Crap, crap—don’t tell me he’s also fallen under the Divine Authority field’s influence??

That had to be it!

“Ah? S-she’s your fiancée?” The squad leader gaped.

“That’s right. Why? Got a problem with that? Do you think that’s any of your business?” Vinny reined in his astonishment, lifted his chin, clasped his hands behind his back, and continued.