Chapter 19
✠
At that moment, Sandra Gillette, the Countess of the Gillette family, trembled from head to toe as she clutched a letter containing dreadful news.
Seeing her reaction, the Count cautiously placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Dear, are you alri—”
“I’m not alright!”
The Countess burst into tears and shouted.
“Waaah! What are we going to do, dear?! Mother-in-law suddenly says she’s coming to visit! She hasn’t cared about family matters ever since she devoted herself to religion, so why now of all times?!”
“W-well… I’m not sure, dear.”
“Could it be because of the succession issue? Aah! If that’s the case, she’ll definitely come after me asking how I raised the children!”
“Come on, dear. That’s going too far. My mother isn’t that kind of pers—”
“You’re taking your mother’s side in front of me?!”
At the news that the strict and terrifying matriarch Cattleya Gillette would be visiting, the entire count’s residence fell into an uproar.
Triggering a Quest by Consuming Plausibility
The Holy See.
It was the sacred domain where the Pope—the ruler of the theocracy—resided, and also the highest political institution of the Elfenheim Theocracy, responsible for legislation, administration, and judiciary alike.
Yet deep within this solemn place stood a facility that felt strangely out of place.
An orphanage.
The children living there were not ordinary orphans. They were specially selected from orphanages across the entire theocracy.
Each of them had received a stigma implanted at a young age, awakening divine power.
Within the church, these children were collectively called “Stigma Lambs.”
At first glance, they appeared to be raised gently like delicate flowers in a greenhouse. In truth, however, they were undergoing extremely intense combat training.
For example, once these children came of age, they were scheduled to be assigned to the most ruthless department within the Holy See—the Inquisition of the Inspectorate, the branch responsible for judging heretics.
To devout parents across the theocracy, the Stigma Lambs were seen as little more than a gifted education program run by the Holy See.
Parents constantly begged the church to test their children’s potential, and eventually the Holy See began holding recruitment events for children every year on certain holy days.
One such holy day, the Festival of Sacrifice, was just a week away.
“They’re already gathering in droves.”
“Hmph. I wonder how many of them will actually pass. None of them look like they have any divine power.”
“Awakening at our age is the weird part. We didn’t exactly awaken normally either— Hey, Ifeil. Move your arm. Are you moving it or not?”
A scuffle began when Ifeil rested his arm on top of Hestio’s head.
Ignoring the commotion of his roommates, Tesilid placed his right fist against his chest and closed his eyes.
Ifeil and Hestio froze mid-movement.
“What’s this? Are you praying?”
“For them all to pass?”
As usual, Tesilid somehow managed to unite Hestio and Ifeil against him.
Hestio ran a hand irritably through his black hair and said,
“Hey, Tesilid. There’s nothing more meaningless than blessing prayers aimed at a crowd. It’s the same logic as the lottery—everyone can’t win.”
“Just leave him. It’s self-satisfaction. With a cheap prayer he can pretend to be kind, and God will be pleased too.”
Tesilid was used to their mockery.
But today, perhaps because he had seen the children holding their parents’ hands, an uncharacteristic impulse rose within him.
Before he knew it, he had responded.
“The opposite.”
“Huh?”
“I prayed that they would all fail… so those children could go home.”
“……”
A solemn silence fell among the three boys.
Soon, Ifeil and Hestio awkwardly corrected themselves.
“What’s with you today? You’re not even annoying when you talk.”
“Yeah. Did he hit his head or something?”
It was a moment that marked a slight improvement in Tesilid’s social relationships.
However, he immediately had to pay the price.
The stigma engraved on his left wrist burned hot, and white glowing letters—visible only to him—spread across his vision.
They were God’s own handwriting.
Humility
Charity
Kindness
Patience
Chastity
Temperance
Diligence
The seven virtues known as the Seven Heavenly Virtues.
But two of them suddenly darkened—
Humility turning into Pride, and Kindness into Envy.
As if punishing him, a portion of his divine power was shaved away.
Haa… Now they won’t even let me speak freely.
Tesilid would awaken his regression ability at the age of twenty.
But even now, at ten years old, he possessed a special power.
A unique ability belonging only to Tesilid Argent in this world—
“The Discipline of the Seven Virtues and the Seven Sins.”
Thanks to this ability, he possessed far greater divine power than other Stigma Lambs. But in return, it came with a troublesome restriction that made life exhausting.
If he practiced the Seven Virtues—humility, charity, kindness, patience, chastity, temperance, and diligence—his divine power would grow stronger.
But if he committed the Seven Deadly Sins—pride, greed, envy, wrath, lust, gluttony, or sloth—his divine power would weaken.
As its name suggested, the “Strict Order and Good” judged Tesilid’s words and actions with ruthless fairness.
As a result, he was forced to live devoutly and virtuously.
The older he grew, the more people treated him like an easy target—a pitiful pushover.
Just until I awaken Aura…
No… even after that…
The ability was simply too broken to abandon for the sake of living an easy life.
Moreover, the greatest enemy of the Serentra Continent was the demon race attempting to invade through dungeons.
In the war against demons, divine power was the perfect counter.
“Haah…”
Unless he abandoned his sense of duty, he had no choice.
Beside him, Hestio and Ifeil stretched their necks toward the window as they talked, their tone much quieter than before.
“What good would those weak kids be if they got in? They’d just cry about wanting to go home and missing their moms.”
“Yeah, Hestio. Since we’re the ones without homes or parents, we might as well be the ones stuck living here. Ah, how pitiful.”
“But seriously, when do we ever get to leave the Holy See? When we become adults?”
“We might never leave. What if a dungeon sync suddenly bursts open inside the Holy See one day—”
“Hey, Ifeil! Are you seriously joking about that?”
“Looks like someone’s scared.”
Watching his roommates’ silly banter, Tesilid chuckled quietly.
Unaware of the fate that awaited them.
✠
As always, the day began with dawn prayer.
The gods of the Possession Management Bureau, who had been silent for a while, reconnected as soon as their system update was completed.
Now that communication was restored, there was a lot to talk about. Even though the message announcing completion of the 53rd quest appeared, I kept chatting.
“So my alchemy reached level 9, and I’ve already developed over twenty kinds of potions and nutritional supplements good enough to sell on the market. If my business succeeds, I’ll spend plenty in the cash shop.”
[“The Word that Builds the World” smiles with satisfaction, saying such ambition is admirable.]
“But sometimes I wonder if I really need to work this hard to make money. There’s a much easier way. If you know the future, hoarding supplies is the best method, right? There’s an epidemic episode in the original story. If I gather herbs in advance and make the cure, I’d earn a fortune.”
Save people quickly, and make tons of money.
Public good and private profit perfectly aligned.
[“The Word that Builds the World” praises the idea as excellent and cheers me on.]
“But there’s a problem. I can’t get the herb needed for the cure.”
The key ingredient for the epidemic cure was the root of Elephantipes.
In the original story it grew wild inside the Holy See like a weed, but currently it wasn’t circulating anywhere.
Apparently the Holy See had uprooted all the sprouts to beautify the scenery.
Unfortunately, Elephantipes needed at least three years to grow properly.
“The best option would be going there myself and harvesting it with my cultivation ability, but right now my movement range is restricted.”
During the tutorial period, my survival difficulty had been lowered to F, but in exchange I could only operate within the Gillette Count’s estate. I tried leaving once, but I was immediately returned to my original position.
[“The Word that Builds the World” thinks for a moment and says it should still be fine to obtain it after the original story begins.]
“Right. There’s still plenty of time before the epidemic occurs. I’ll just ask the protagonist when I meet him later.”
Our sweet-potato-like pushover protagonist would definitely do it if I showed him a little kindness first.
Pulling weeds from the Holy See garden wouldn’t be too much to ask.
Then a thought suddenly occurred to me.
“Speaking of the protagonist… what do you think he’s doing right now while I’m working this hard?”
This was still the tutorial period—before the original story, a brutal infinite regression narrative, even began.
Which meant the protagonist had not yet awakened his regression ability.
Right now, he was just a normal child, completely unaware of the destiny awaiting him.
What was the everyday life of the protagonist’s first life, the innocent young sweet potato like?
I wondered if he was living out some wholesome childcare story by himself.
“Since he becomes a regressor when the story starts at age twenty, he should be exactly my age right now.”
[“The Word that Builds the World” casually asks if I want to meet the protagonist.]
“Well, we can’t meet anyway. I’m stuck inside the count’s estate during the tutorial, and he’s locked inside the Holy See for gifted training.”
I stretched, having already given up—when I heard an unexpected response.
[“The Word that Builds the World” says there might be a way to go out briefly using their divine authority.]
I immediately became alert.
“Really? Aren’t gods not supposed to interfere directly?”
[“The Word that Builds the World” replies that while that’s the principle, there are always loopholes.]
“I see.”
[“The Word that Builds the World” boasts that not just any god can do it—only a divine being of their level.]
I gave a double thumbs-up.
“O magnificent Word, please explain quickly.”
[“The Word that Builds the World” says I just need to consume plausibility and trigger a quest.]
I listened to the explanation.
In short, if enough narrative plausibility existed for me to go somewhere, the Word would use divine authority to bend things in my favor.
However, going somewhere like the Holy See required an enormous amount of plausibility.
[“The Word that Builds the World” says if I could just bring along any cardinal they know, they’d take care of the rest.]
“…Excuse me, Word. You do know I’ve possessed the body of a powerless commoner maid, right?”
How am I supposed to suddenly have connections with a cardinal?
I had just puffed out my cheeks in resentment for getting my hopes up—
[“The Word that Builds the World” points behind me, saying there’s no need to look far.]
Behind me?
“…I didn’t expect this place to be cleaned so well.”
“Good heavens!”
Startled by the unfamiliar voice, I quickly turned around.
