Airan wasn’t supposed to show up at this point.
Sure, she’s arrived years earlier than in the original, but so have other events, so I could’ve brushed it off.
The real issue is that something else was supposed to happen before Airan ever appeared.
Something arguably even more important than the fake Saintess incident—
And it’s been skipped entirely.
Was this just the order getting scrambled because of how I’ve twisted the original plot?
Or has the event just… not happened? At all?
…Well, a successor dispute would be hard to stir up while Ares is still alive and well like this.
That bastard who claimed to be the rightful heir would have a hard time even showing his face.
“Lord Ceres?”
I’d gone quiet, lost in thought, and the other side took that moment to speak up first.
Long brown hair, a slender build, a delicate, almost pretty face—a women who looked more feminine than most women I knew.
I’d never seen her before, but I was certain.
This was Airan.
Her gender was swapped, sure, but the face?
Straight out of the novel’s description.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Lord Ceres Hyperion. My name is Airan Eisdi.”
Just as I thought.
She greeted me politely, and I returned the courtesy with a smile.
“Airan, is it? A pleasure to meet you.”
And then, lightly, with a tilt of the head—
“Though I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of the Eisdi family before?”
The second I touched the nerve she’d be most sensitive about, that bright and innocent smile of her stiffened.
“…I imagine not. It’s not a very well-known house.”
“And where exactly is your family from? What do they do?”
“It’s not somewhere someone like you would need to concern yourself with, Lord Ceres.”
“I beg to differ. Isn’t it rather rude not to ask after the name of a guest who’s come all this way to your home?”
I pressed her, unrelenting, and I heard it clearly—
The quiet sound of teeth grinding.
“…We’re a baronial family with a small estate out in the countryside. Nothing worth remembering, really.”
“Now, now. Don’t sell yourself short. I don’t know much, but I like to believe any noble house out there is playing an important role—especially in the countryside.”
“…You’re very kind to say so.”
Airan’s shoulders gave the faintest tremble.
“Got you. That made you mad, didn’t it? That’s what I was aiming for.
You arrogant, self-important little brat who doesn’t know his place.”
In the original, Airan had a massive inferiority complex about his origins—
Especially compared to Ceres, who was born and raised in privilege.
It was a big reason she hated him so much.
So I very intentionally brought up status, just to dig at her—
And to my surprise, she actually kept it together better than expected.
“Lord Ceres, I’m Hairel,” another voice cut in, as Airan struggled to recover.
Hairel.
Another villain, straight from the original.
Never confronted Ceres directly, but always scheming behind the scenes to gain power.
She helped frame Ceres through Airan to further his own gain—
Scum.
Naturally, I didn’t even try to hide the dislike in my gaze.
The fact that she was a woman in this version didn’t stop me from wanting to punch her in the face.
“Ah, Deputy High Priestess Hairel! I’ve heard so much about you. They say you’re kind-hearted—and far more entertaining than your title suggests.”
“Haha, you flatter me. When it comes to holy power, Archdeacon Hames over there is far more gifted. I don’t deserve this title of mine, really.”
Bullshit.
I already know you’re obsessed with becoming the next pope.
That fake humility isn’t fooling me for a second.
Still, I smiled sweetly, pretending to be charmed.
“Truly, the rumors were right—you are quite modest. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“We came to confirm something,” Hairel said, smile still plastered on.
“There’s a rumor going around that you’re a Saint.”
Of course I knew what they were here for.
But I played dumb, waiting to see how they’d spin it.
Hairel started with a few compliments before moving into the real reason they’d come.
“What do you say? Would you join us on a mission to subjugate the undead?”
“Undead?” I echoed.
“Yes,” she explained. “Our temple regularly purifies the undead—guiding them to where they truly belong. We thought this would be the perfect trial.”
She laid it out smoothly:
If I could defeat enough undead with my power, they’d acknowledge me as a true Saint.
In short, prove yourself through battle.
An absolutely ridiculous demand.
“What kind of nonsense is that?!”
Ares exploded immediately.
“Ceres is the only son of the Hyperion count’s family! And you want to drag him into undead subjugation?! Are you insane?!”
Exactly.
I was originally a sickly child, too.
If you flip the genders back, this is exactly the situation in the original.
The original Ceres, having lived a sheltered life, would have been horrified by the idea—and that’s what they were counting on.
“Hairel, what the hell is this? This is the first I’m hearing of it!” Hames exclaimed.
“I apologize, Hames,” Hairel replied with a calmness that made my skin crawl.
“This was a proposal agreed upon through other channels. A different kind of trial.”
She tried to sound regretful, pretending her hands were tied.
“I know it’s a bit extreme, but when it comes to clear results… this might be the only way.”
She added, almost casually, that I didn’t have to do it.
But that wasn’t for my sake.
No, this was all calculated—
They were hoping I’d back down. Just like the original Ceres.
So naturally—
“An undead subjugation? That sounds exciting! I’d love to give it a try.”
I accepted their trap without flinching. Cheerfully, at that. Everyone’s eyes widened.
Of course they did—Hairel and Airan never expected I’d say yes.
Even Ares and Hames looked stunned.
“What?”
“Are you serious?”
To their flustered faces, I answered plainly. Yes, I am.
Ares’ expression contorted.
“That’s too dangerous!”
“I know it’s risky. But if I refuse to take the test and just step back, I’m sure bad rumors will start to spread.”
“A few worthless rumors are nothing! If you want, I’ll make sure they disappear and never touch you.”
…Maybe he could.
This alone wasn’t a huge issue. Unlike in the original, I already had a solid reputation.
But it’s this kind of thing—piling up and up—that made it easier to label Ceres a fake saint in the first place.
I couldn’t leave a single piece unchecked.
“I’ve already made up my mind.”
“…I see.”
The words were aimed at Ares, but it was Hames who responded.
“If you’ve decided, then don’t worry and follow me. No matter what happens, I’ll protect you.”
I’ve thought this before, but seriously—why does this girl always support me when I do something reckless?
I didn’t get her reasoning, but it was reassuring nonetheless.
I trusted Hames, but—
“Hames, who gave you the right to decide that? Even if you are a High Priestess, you’re still a non-combatant cleric. What do you mean you’ll protect him?!”
Ares snapped, fiery as ever.
“If Ceres really insists on going, then I’ll assign a proper guard!”
“Is that really necessary? Hames is a High Priestess, and the others from the temple will be going as well. I don’t need some extra escort—”
“Of course you need an escort! Our domain alone has over 200 knights!”
“…You’re not planning to send all 200 as my escort, are you?”
“If that’s what it takes, then yes!”
Even if Viol had a son, I doubt she’d assign 200 knights as a guard.
Why the hell does a single province have 200 knights to begin with?
Completely dumbfounded, I stuck to my refusal—
“Then I’ll go myself.”
—and in place of the 200 knights, I got a Sword Master Count as my personal escort.
There’s a place known as the Land of Death.
An abnormal region overflowing with undead, routinely cleansed by the temple.
This was chosen as the site of the “test.”
Our party split into two groups.
Hairel claimed it was to deal with the undead more efficiently, but it was obvious—it was a setup to pit me against Airan and compare us.
Airan and I headed to separate areas, each taking half of the clerics along.
They would act as both guards and judges to monitor how well we used our abilities.
Which meant I had to show results—outdo Airan right in front of their eyes.
And I was confident I could… except—
“…Huh? Why isn’t it working?”
I aimed my holy power at a low-level skeleton shuffling toward me, but it didn’t respond.
It withstood the force of my blessing like it was nothing… and just scurried away.
I tried again, targeting other undead. Same result.
No matter what I did, I couldn’t purify a single one.
The clerics began to murmur.
“What the? He didn’t get even one?”
“Can’t even handle low-level undead?”
“Is this really the guy who supposedly saved a whole nation?”
“Wait… is that really holy power he’s using?”
Their suspicion stung.
“Silence.”
With just a glare, Ares beside me shut them all up.
“Ceres, are you feeling unwell? If so, we should return at once—”
“No. I’m fine.”
I answered awkwardly, glancing at Ares.
She’d insisted on escorting me herself.
And now that I couldn’t use my power properly, her concern was only growing.
“Really, there’s nothing wrong with me. Don’t worry.”
As I reassured her, I couldn’t help but question it myself.
Why weren’t the undead affected?
I knew my holy power worked against things aligned with demonic energy.
It was established in the original, and I’d seen it myself when I defeated Red.
Even a demonic being strong enough to fight a Sword Master—someone like Red—was no exception.
By that logic, low-level undead should have been melting at my touch.
So what was wrong?
“It’s because you pity them.”
The voice beside me belonged to Hames.
“You feel sympathy for them. That’s why your power isn’t working.”
“…Me?”
“Then again, maybe it’s not pity. Do you not?”
“…Maybe a little.”
They’re just corpses, shambling around.
But people treat them like filth, toss them out like trash… it’s kind of sad.
“But is that really enough to completely block my power?”
“When it comes to harming others with any force—holy or magical—it won’t manifest properly unless your will is crystal clear.”
“You ever dealt with that?”
“No. But I’ve met people who have. And especially you… you might be one of those cases.”
She looked at me with unreadable eyes.
“The power you hold… it can transcend the limits of holy energy—like how it can heal even the wicked, depending on your intent.”
“…What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just that you’re… special.”
She changed the subject with a vague smile, though it sounded like she knew more than she let on.
“Anyway, if you don’t wield that power with a clear desire to strike down your enemy, the most it’ll do is annoy them.”
“So I have to want to hurt them?”
Like when I attacked Red?
…That might actually work.
I focused, trying to recall the fury I’d felt that day—when I’d released my power with intent to destroy.
And that’s when—
“Help!”
One of the clerics who’d gone with Airan came running toward us, shouting.
“A Death Knight! A Master-level undead using aura just showed up!”