Chapter 95

Legacy of the Living

“Someone who inherited our Father’s blood…?”

Roberta murmured the words unconsciously.

“Of course—the true, legitimate bloodline of Lord Hestio.”

Priest Bonetti added that they did not carry even a drop of Kormilius blood. His voice was low and cautious, but his expression was resolute—he did not doubt his own words in the slightest.

Moistening her dry lips, Roberta glanced sideways.

Ulrich sat across from Bonetti, his expression unchanged.

“I see.”

Bonetti frowned.

“You think I’m lying?”

“I believe you. It would have to be something like that for you to turn against the Kormilius family.”

“And yet, you’re not surprised.”

“It was one of the possibilities I had considered.”

His tone was matter-of-fact.

“A possibility?”

Bonetti frowned deeply, as if incredulous. He seemed to think Ulrich was bluffing.

But was he?

Ulrich was a man who had lived an extraordinarily long life. And with such a life came countless connections. Though only Countess Hilde of Dithmarschen had been revealed as a known companion, it was unlikely she had been the only one.

The proof was the Kormilius lineage itself.

A bloodline said to carry Hestio’s divinity—his blood.

Ulrich had never denied that their ancestor was genuine. He had only remarked that, after so many generations, how much of his blood could truly remain?

So the issue was not whether he had descendants.

“I don’t understand. Who are you? How is it that you speak as if you know not only us—but even him?”

“I don’t have much else to say. Experience, perhaps. Wouldn’t you agree, Roberta?”

Leaning back in his chair, Ulrich turned his gaze toward her.

Roberta gave a faint, wry smile.

“A person who carries Hestio’s blood but isn’t part of the Kormilius lineage… Should we assume that this person’s existence is why the Archbishop defected?”

“For now, that seems likely. Not just the Archbishop—the Emperor as well. And the group we call the de-deificationists is probably involved too.”

“And their goal is to put that person forward and replace the Kormilius family?”

In earlier eras—even into the Second Age—there had been many groups claiming descent from Hestio.

But after the Kormilius established the Church, other lineages were either absorbed or destroyed.

By the Third Age, the era of the Yocaster Empire, it was believed that no bloodline of Hestio remained except the Kormilius.

That belief was precisely why they were revered.

No matter what crimes they committed, no matter how many privileges they monopolized, people tolerated it—because they carried the blood of a god.

But what if that wasn’t true?

What if there existed a descendant of Hestio outside the Kormilius family?

And what if that descendant was a closer, more legitimate heir?

For those who resented the so-called noble lineage, there could be no better justification.

“The reason they’re searching for Yusuf’s artifacts is probably connected to that child as well.”

“Do you have any idea why?”

“Not yet.”

Both their gazes turned to Bonetti. The priest kept his mouth firmly shut, clearly unwilling to say more.

Ulrich watched him for a moment, then stood.

“We’ll hear the rest directly from the Archbishop. He’s already moved ahead of us—there’s no point wasting time over a single answer.”

Without hesitation, he went to fetch his horse and left the village in the middle of the night.

***

They rode southwest.

Leaving the Bishopric of Langen, they entered the central region of the Ekyir continent. The climate there was milder than the north—but by the time Ulrich’s party arrived, winter was drawing near.

With each passing day, the cold deepened. The wind biting against them as they rode made their teeth chatter.

They layered their clothing and rode on, until the scenery blurred into something they could no longer even recall. When the horses tired, they rested. Once their breath returned, they rode again.

After eight days of this, Roberta awoke suddenly to the cold wind.

They were at the base of a rocky mountain peak, in the dim hours before dawn.

The campfire she had extinguished before falling asleep lay beside her—but there was no warmth left. Pulling her blanket tighter, she tried to go back to sleep.

Then, through half-lidded eyes, she noticed someone.

Ulrich.

He sat on a pale rock a short distance away, gazing up at the sky.

Clouds filled the heavens, leaving barely a single star visible.

He had awakened early—just to watch it.

He was a man who could sleep for nearly a year when he truly slept, yet could also go days without sleep and show no fatigue.

He was standing watch.

The moment she saw him, her drowsiness faded.

Blinking a few times, she quietly rose.

“….”

Ulrich slowly turned his head toward her.

No words were exchanged—but understanding passed between them.

He stood as well, turned his back, and walked away from the campsite.

“Are you troubled?”

After walking for a while, she finally spoke.

“This might be the first time you’ve correctly guessed what’s on my mind.”

“Well… I do see and hear things.”

“I suppose you do.”

A faint smile appeared on his face as they walked side by side.

“I had expected it—but hearing it directly gave me much to think about.”

“About your descendants?”

Ulrich let out a low sound.

“Do you really think the Archbishop and the de-deificationists have found your descendant?”

“A priest of the Church said so. It’s likely true.”

“Even priests can be deceived.”

“They can—but it wouldn’t be easy. There’s a way to prove it.”

At her puzzled look, he continued.

“Artifacts. The simplest way is through artifacts that require qualification.”

“Ah… artifacts respond to the descendants of their owners, don’t they?”

“More precisely, they respond to those with a genetic connection to the rightful owner.”

In other words, they would respond more strongly to the direct descendants of the current owner than to distant descendants of past owners.

“Then… that person might not be a direct child.”

“In practice, they’d be so far removed that they might as well be unrelated.”

He nodded.

“Couldn’t they have lived for a very long time? Like you?”

He had begun using the name Ulrich around four hundred years ago. At that time, he had married Hilde of Dithmarschen, and the two had no children.

If he had formed a relationship and had children before taking the name Ulrich, then that descendant would be from at least five hundred years ago.

A span of time long enough for any normal human—even one of noble blood—to have long since turned to dust.

“Even if they inherited my blood, they wouldn’t live that long.”

“Seems immortality isn’t something that gets passed down.”

“Unfortunately,” he murmured.

“The reason I neither age nor die is something that was granted to me afterward.”

“By the ones in the heavens.”

“Indeed. They said it was a benefit—something like what they themselves possessed. Though, to be honest, I’ve never really thought of it as a benefit. Still, they believed they were giving me something good. There were many beings who lived in the heavens, but I alone was made unable to die.”

“Why would they grant such a gift only to you?”

As she searched for the campsite with her night-adjusted eyes, Roberta spoke.

“They must have judged that I was qualified. Worthy of receiving the same treatment—or perhaps of standing in the same position.”

“…Seen that way, the Kormilius family isn’t entirely wrong in regarding Hestio as a god.”

Ulrich stopped walking.

“Is that really so?”

“What do you mean? Am I wrong?”

“You believe me to be Hestio, do you not?”

“Yes. I do.”

“And at the same time, do you see me as a god?”

Roberta stared at him.

“No. I think you’re extraordinary, but…”

“But not a god. Not someone to be worshipped. Why is that?”

She hesitated to answer. Facing her, he gave a faint smile.

“Don’t overthink it. It’s because you’ve seen me up close. You acknowledge that my abilities are remarkable, but you don’t believe I’m a flawless being. Isn’t that so?”

“…At first, I even doubted your identity.”

“Exactly. You may see me as a rather unusual human, but not as an object of worship. But what about those who have never met me? You encountered me first and then arrived at the name Hestio—but others? They learn through priests and scriptures.”

Ulrich let out a short breath and continued.

“The same goes for the so-called gods of heaven. If you had encountered them the way you encountered me, you wouldn’t have found much difference. Or rather, there would have been differences—but you wouldn’t have thought of them as gods.”

He began walking again, climbing the slope until they reached the rocky summit.

“When I lived in the heavens, I was raised among them. I regarded them as parents, as teachers, even as siblings. Their abilities were certainly supreme—but far from omniscient or omnipotent. So even if they saw me as one of them, I was never a god.”

He glanced down from the summit.

The moon was hidden behind clouds, and darkness lay thick below. Even the path they had just climbed was no longer visible.

In that darkness, Ulrich walked toward the edge of the peak.

The faint wind seemed to push at his back, and for a moment, Roberta felt a chill run through her.

“That child has been dealt a cruel hand.”

Ulrich spoke while looking down.

He was likely referring to his descendant.

“Is there a reason to pity them? They’re probably being treated quite well.”

“They’ve only just been discovered, haven’t they? Think about what that implies.”

“Discovered late means…”

Ah.

Roberta let out a soft exclamation.

“They must have lived their whole life not knowing who their ancestor was.”

If they had known, they wouldn’t only now be coming into the open.

The weight carried by the title descendant of Hestio was immense. Even if the direct heir might keep it secret, would generations of descendants really do the same? There would have been countless benefits to claim.

And it wasn’t just them—others hadn’t known either. Even the Church that pursued Ulrich had been unaware. Which meant the descendant must have come from a remote place—or a humble background.

“It may sound like an excuse, but my life has been too long to devote myself to just one person. When one connection ends, another begins. No matter how deep the bond, time erodes memory, and the heart grows worn.”

At that, Roberta gave a wry smile.

“So you were quite the womanizer?”

“Not that much. There weren’t that many.”

Ulrich chuckled lightly as he replied.

“And because there weren’t many, I can roughly guess who it might be. Even I have forgotten that connection—so how much more must that child have? They must have been dragged into this without warning, suddenly told that divine blood flows in their veins. That’s why I pity them.”

If someone suddenly appeared and told you that divine blood ran through your body…

Wouldn’t it feel like a village girl suddenly being declared a saint?

The thought gave Roberta a strange feeling, and she lightly touched the corner of her lips.

It didn’t seem entirely unpleasant.

“…Who knows? Maybe they’re actually happy about it.”

Ulrich let out a low cough.

“That would be troublesome in its own way.”