Chapter 72

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“...The new master of Credo Island is among them.”

Valdemar stared down at the paper clutched in his hand. The characters appeared to writhe, as if scorched by fire. Ten kingdoms. Ten trainees. The confusion he had felt was slowly clarifying. That the new master of the island was among them...

“Valdemar, we should report this to the High Priest first.”

Roman’s calm voice roused him. “Ah... yes. I’ll keep this. This one.”

Valdemar slipped the fragment of parchment into the folds of his robe. Roman glanced at the motion but said nothing. The instant he stepped out of the temple, the sunlight struck him with painful intensity. A clear, bright day, and even a soft breeze stirred the air—weather that was unbearably perfect for Valdemar. He could have resented it. “...What do you suppose the High Priest will say about this?”

Roman murmured, gazing up at the sky. He narrowed his eyes and raised his hand to form a visor against the sun, as though trying to divine the divine’s intentions behind the unexpected prophecy. “I wonder. Either way, I find it distasteful. With the priests of Credo Island established and thriving, to have the island’s new master appear...”

Valdemar answered bluntly. That was his honest sentiment. Yet unlike himself, who still found it hard to accept the situation, Roman replied calmly. “I don’t know what manner it will take, but if it’s fate, I have no choice but to accept it. It is the will of the gods.”

Valdemar swallowed the surge of bitterness rising in his chest. That was precisely why the High Priest always favored him. In every situation, he had remained obedient and humbly accepting—the qualities he himself lacked. The path of the priest had been the lifelong dream he had cherished since boyhood. He had wished to stand below the adoration of the people and above the love of the gods. But he had no means to offer a temple donation, and as a commoner, he had never obtained the qualifications to train. He had labored at menial tasks in various temples, hunting for any opportunity, yet the priests always extended their hands to those of a different sort. It was only after he had aged past the prime for training that he learned of Credo Island, where anyone could become a trainee without conditions. Valdemar boarded the ship without hesitation and became Credo Island’s late bloomer. In his cohort at the time, there had been only one other: Roman. He had been rather old when training began, and Roman had arrived ahead of his peers, so the age gap between them had been considerable. Yet the one who was always left behind had been Valdemar. Roman had literally shone. From the start of his training, people had whispered that he possessed outstanding talent and would one day become the next High Priest. Moreover, his appearance had only added to the allure—those who saw his wavy brown hair and gentle smile claimed their hearts grew soft of their own accord. While all attention and affection centered on Roman, Valdemar had silently done his own work. While Roman handled divine power with skill and devoured intermediate magic, Valdemar had barely been able to follow the basics and had struggled. Still, he had not given up. It would have been a pity to abandon his dream now. If only he could, he would have screamed at the gods. Why do You not see me? Why have You ignored my existence for so long? Even when he shouted and struggled, the gods had remained silent. Even now, after becoming Chief Priest. Valdemar stared at Roman’s back as he led the way. What would the High Priest say when he heard this prophecy? The High Priest had been bedridden for over half a year. Given his great age and the seriousness of his illness, he would soon name his successor. There were only two candidates: the current Chief Priest, Roman, and Valdemar himself. Valdemar’s hand trembled slightly. If he reported this prophecy now, the High Priest would undoubtedly appoint Roman as his successor at once. While waiting for the holy prophecy to be fulfilled, he would have continued his prayers and offerings as always. And in a few years, when the training competition began.... “If it’s fate, I have no choice but to accept it.” Yes, that was how Roman would act. Calmly accepting it as the will of the gods, humbly stepping aside and handing the High Priest’s ring to someone else. That beautiful ring he had longed for for so long would be handed to him too easily.... “Watch yourself.” Roman glanced back over his shoulder. The path in front of the temple had been gentle, but once it passed through the rocky mountain and began to descend, it grew steep and treacherous. “It’s the usual path. What’s there to be careful about?” Valdemar answered sharply, even though he knew it was just a habitual remark. He glared at Roman’s back. While his own hair was beginning to streak with gray, Roman remained young and full of vitality. What would it feel like to become High Priest at that age, healthy and strong? The narrow path twisting through the rocks had grown stuffy and winding, much like his own thoughts. The sheer walls on either side seemed to press down on his shoulders today, and Valdemar wished he could escape the route at once. At the end of the path, the rock wall ended, and the right side opened into a vast view. A downhill trail followed the cliff. Only one misstep, and he would roll down to the crashing waves below... which... would happen. The cliff. Valdemar’s gaze suddenly filled with a sinister light. What if... something happened to Roman right now? Calculations raced through his mind. With Valdemar as the sole replacement, he would be named High Priest. No matter how much the High Priest disdained him, there would be no one else to fill the position. No choice. His heart raced wildly. He thought of the prophecy he had received today. The only witnesses had been Roman and himself. Once he took the High Priest’s seat, he could, in the future, protect himself in any way when the ten guests came to the island.... At the end of the path, one side of the rock wall disappeared. A small stone kicked up by Valdemar’s foot rolled and tumbled, vanishing over the cliff with a sharp clatter. Valdemar glanced anxiously ahead. The path along the cliff was not long. A trail leading into the forest appeared in the distance. “Hey, Roman.” Valdemar called out impulsively. “Did you hear that just now?” “Hear what?” “Something like a scream from below... but I didn’t hear it clearly.” A prepared lie slipped from his lips. Valdemar stepped toward the edge first, furrowed his brow as if looking for something beneath the abyss, and peered down. Seeing that he looked dangerous, Roman hurried over. “Be careful.” “W-wait... oh! My goodness, what is that?” Valdemar pointed down the cliff. A jagged section of rock where waves crashed violently against the rocks and retreated into the shallows. “Nothing shows up in my view.” “Come closer. Look down.” Roman seemed to have no doubts. Following his order, he leaned forward, back bent, and peered down. “On the right... there’s something stuck on the rock. Looks like a worker fell...” “Hmm.” When Roman frowned and scanned below, Valdemar took two steps back. Confirming Roman’s vulnerable back... “It’s over there.” Valdemar shoved Roman’s back hard. Ah! Roman staggered, flailing his arms, but Valdemar had already stepped back. “P-Priest...!” Roman could not even scream. The fallen priest dropped from such a height and was instantly swept into the black waves. “......” Valdemar stretched his neck and looked down. The waves pounded the rocks violently, sending white spray into the air. Had Roman’s body struck the rock? He would not survive, surely? Hah. Valdemar took a deep breath. Roman was gone. So easily, so simply.... Suddenly Valdemar laughed like a madman. Heh heh, heh heh heh... Ahehe, aha ha ha! Laughing wildly, he tore at his own clothes with both hands. Rolling on the ground, he smeared dirt on himself, laughing until he cried, then laughing again. Ha ha ha, ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha.... *** That night, the High Priest held a private audience with Valdemar. The High Priest gazed at him in silence as Valdemar wept, pleading for forgiveness, his clothes torn and hair disheveled from screaming and hurling himself down the cliff. “I don’t know what Roman saw below the cliff. I looked down thinking a worker had fallen, and in an instant... it was gone so meaninglessly...” The sound of him striking the ground and wailing filled the room. Seeing the sight, the High Priest said nothing. His frail hands, barely supporting him on the bed, trembled slightly. It was the obvious calculation. He had known that Roman had to disappear for the opportunity to return to him. The High Priest felt guilt. Because of himself, who had allowed that black heart to grow unchecked, Roman was dead. The High Priest of Credo Island died of illness five months later, his condition worsening. The High Priest’s ring was naturally bestowed upon Valdemar. On the day he, as High Priest, safely performed the first offering, the gods had remained silent, yet Valdemar had smiled contentedly. He had prayed for Roman and performed the atonement ritual many times. He had accepted the gods’ silence as forgiveness. It was the easier path. That night, Valdemar walked through the High Priest’s chambers, now his own. Four years remained. The training competition where ten guests would come to Credo Island was set to begin then. Which one among them would be the protagonist of the oracle? Even if the murder of Roman could be overlooked, he could not kill the protagonist of the oracle himself. That would truly be a curse. Thus, Valdemar began to ponder. A method that would allow him to eliminate the one the oracle pointed to without even staining his hands with blood....