Chapter 125

Flames of Purification

“Enette.”

“Yes?”

Isaac, staring at the ceiling of the inn room, suddenly asked her.
It was the evening before he sent her away, while she was intently studying an ancient grammar book.

“Can people become family… even without sharing blood?”

“Aren’t there lots of families like that?”

“I mean the kind of family… you’d be willing to give your life for.”

It was hard for Isaac to understand.
Raphael was willing to risk his life just to remain by the Cardinal’s side.

“At least Uncle Hans and Aunt Gisela would, don’t you think?”

“…Huh?”

The unexpected names that came from Enette left Isaac momentarily stunned.

He recalled memories he had buried deep within himself—
people who stayed by his side even when he caused mana explosions and acted violently,
people who reached out to him despite not sharing a single drop of blood.

Why they sacrificed themselves…
why they loved him—
even now, Isaac found it difficult to understand.

All he could do was try to repay them.

He feared losing them again.
That fear washed over him like waves of despair and emptiness, yet also kept him moving forward.

Because of that, Isaac could become as cruel as necessary—
even a monster, if needed.

‘Raphael… are you the same?’

Isaac thought as he looked into Raphael’s eyes.

Raphael glared back at him—
as if asking whether he truly intended to go this far.

He stood beside Vincenzio on the platform.

***

The interior of Lorenzio Cathedral was still overwhelming.

The ceiling stretched endlessly high,
and golden marble pillars rose as though holding up the sky itself.

Morning sunlight streamed through the stained-glass rose window,
casting a beautiful mosaic of light across the platform.

Silver dust drifted above the statues,
while the scent of myrrh and lilies lingered in the air.

Clergy in full ceremonial attire stood in place,
and hundreds of believers had gathered to witness the ritual.

With the Papal State in turmoil over the violet flames,
to witness the Light of Atonement—the repentance of a fallen saint—held deep meaning.

***

“Isaac von Vinfelt Goethe, kneel.”

Vincenzio spoke in a warm, gentle voice.

Unlike his usual worn priest’s robe,
he wore a pristine white cassock, a red mozzetta, and a zucchetto upon his head.

Silver-threaded gloves covered his hands,
and he held a small wooden box—the relic Isaac sought.

A form carved from an ancient gray tree.
Inside it lay the fallen saint’s remains—the Light of Atonement.

At least he didn’t bring a fake.

Isaac thought as he felt the strange mana leaking from the box.

There was only one reason he wanted the relic:
to expand his multi-circulation system, which had been stuck at six.

“Ahem. Please kneel.”

“…Ah, yes.”

Isaac, momentarily distracted by the relic, slowly knelt.

Within him, two emotions clashed:

Caution—about when Vincenzio would cast his magic.
Expectation—that the relic would expand his limits.

In truth, the latter weighed heavier.

**

“Isaac von Vinfelt Goethe. You did not retreat before the darkness that threatened the Church. You upheld truth, exposed falsehood, and cleansed bloodstained doctrine. The Holy See now recognizes your actions and courage as a divine mission granted by God.”

Vincenzio’s ceremonial speech avoided specifics.

Naturally, Botmer was not mentioned.

No one questioned the ambiguity.

It was common for nobles to receive relics by offering vast donations or territories—
most assumed Isaac was no different.

“The saint who left this relic once said:
Remember that I was a sinner.
But also remember that even a sinner may ultimately turn toward the Lord.

I fell. I struggled. I prayed.

The fire I leave behind is not a fire of condemnation,
but a fire of atonement for this world.
Do not cease fighting against sin.”

Vincenzio concluded with the fallen saint’s final words.

“…Priests gathered here, choir and knights, pilgrims and believers—
today, we have witnessed proof that the Lord is with us.”

“In this age where sin runs rampant, justice falls silent, and power defiles the name of God…
a boy of merely twelve years has proven truth and preserved the light.”

“Here, we bestow the Light of Atonement,
that it may become a small radiance upon this defiled land.
You are all witnesses.”

His soft voice echoed through the cathedral.

The choir began to sing,
and one by one, the believers knelt in prayer.

Isaac raised both hands and received the box from Vincenzio.

A faint tremor ran through it, along with a chilling cold—
mana emanating from the relic.

He wanted to open it immediately—

But he had no time.

The air changed in an instant.

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t intended to go this far…”

Vincenzio said, placing a hand on Isaac’s shoulder.

Isaac smiled coldly.

“The feeling is mutual.”

The violet flames produced by Vincenzio’s “authority”
were, in truth, based on orthodox magic.

He may appear to cast without incantation thanks to his mastery of the ancient language… but in the end, he follows the fundamental process.

In that fleeting moment, Isaac felt the mana flowing from Vincenzio’s hand—
and understood everything.

***

Orthodox magic follows three stages:

Mana condensation → Elemental conversion → Magical transformation

The color of the resulting flame depends on the caster’s mana density.

For Vincenzio to produce violet flames—
his mana density could be considered a divine blessing.

First Law of Mana:
Mana flows from areas of high density to low density.

Second Law of Mana:
Low-density mana is absorbed by high-density mana.

Vincenzio had used these principles to burn corrupt priests.

Though it appeared as if flames ignited from within their bodies,
in reality, he infused his mana into their vessels—
forcing condensation, conversion, and transformation.

Once ignited, the high-density mana would not extinguish
until it consumed all the target’s mana.

In essence—

Vincenzio had been setting fire to oil-filled vessels.

And since few possessed mana density higher than his,
it was a method that almost always worked.

It was also thanks to his position as Grand Inquisitor, which allowed him to know the schedules of all clergy.
His targets had to be within a certain range for mana density to be maintained.

‘In my case… it’s a little different.’

Isaac was a special case.
A mage with not a single loop, but a multi-circulation system.

While Vincenzio circulated mana through a single loop to cast magic,
Isaac could operate multiple spells simultaneously through several circulation paths.

Depending on how many circuits were active,
his mana density could change.

When he burned the priest atop the bell tower—
Vincenzio would have had to launch a violet fireball using spatial magic.
The distance was too great to maintain mana density otherwise.

But Isaac had no such limitation.

By adjusting the number of active circuits,
he unraveled his mana like thread—
focusing it into a single line that stretched all the way to the tower.

He could do that because he could freely control mana density.

In other words—

If someone like Vincenzio attempted to force mana into him,
using his body as fuel—

Isaac could absorb it.
Or reflect it back.

Giiiiiiing—

All six circulation circuits activated at once,
and a resonant hum—like the ringing of a soul—shook his entire body.

“…!?”

For the briefest moment, Vincenzio’s face twisted with shock.
It was an expression he had never shown Isaac before.

His face had always been gentle—like spring sunlight, calm and composed.
But the overwhelming flow of mana pouring through his fingertips—

—it was something he had never experienced in his life.

Mana imbued with will—magic power—
was flowing into his own mana circuits, into his very vessel.

Before it could condense—before it could ignite into flame—
Vincenzio tried to dismantle Isaac’s magic.

“Your Eminence…?”

It lasted no longer than the blink of an eye.

Seeing Vincenzio hesitate with his hand still on Isaac’s shoulder,
Raphael sensed something was wrong.

He stepped forward quickly, trying to separate them—

“It’s been… enjoyable.”

Isaac murmured softly.

Fwoosh—

“Ah—”

With Raphael’s faint gasp,
Vincenzio burst into brilliant violet flames.

Brighter, hotter, and more intense
than any flame ever witnessed in the Papal State.

***

Vincenzio had overlooked one thing.

Isaac’s mana did not need to condense
to reach elemental conversion.

That was the nature of his multi-circulation system—
non-linear, simultaneous, beyond sequential stages.

The shattered mana within Vincenzio’s vessel ignited into countless flames.
Even the mana he had forced into Isaac’s body returned to him in full.

And so—

mana beyond what a single vessel could contain
overflowed and exploded outward.

The flames consuming Vincenzio spread in all directions.

Even the clergy present could do nothing to stop it.

Priests began evacuating the believers.
Inquisitors faltered in confusion.

To them, the meaning of this miracle unfolding before their eyes
mattered more than their own lives.

The Grand Inquisitor was engulfed in flames.
And those flames began to devour the entire cathedral.

Stone chosen and carved with utmost care by master craftsmen.
A structure built brick by brick with precision and strength.
A sanctuary that seemed eternal, impervious to fire.

But the altar, the pews, the statues, the tapestries, the reliefs, the curtains, the books, the sacred instruments—
all of them burned easily.

The roof, the spires, the beams, the ceiling trusses—
all built from thick oak and pine.

Even stone, though it does not burn,
will crack and collapse under sustained heat.

Cracks formed in the gold-adorned marble pillars.
Statues melted as if shedding tears.

The scent of myrrh and lilies was swallowed by acrid smoke.
Tapestries curled as they burned.
Soot spread across the religious paintings on the ceiling.

Was this the baptism of fire?

At its center, Vincenzio still retained his form—
a silhouette within violet radiance.

Whether he could still see or hear—no one knew.

He looked briefly toward Raphael,
then knelt.

And, as always,
he assumed the posture of prayer.

The Grand Inquisitor burned—
together with the sins of the Papal State.

This was neither arson nor accident.

God Himself had set the sanctuary ablaze.

Isaac walked through the flames and stepped into the plaza.

Looking back at the burning cathedral,
he opened the wooden box in his hand.

Inside lay an old wooden cross necklace—
the Light of Atonement.

Amid people repenting and wailing,
Isaac placed the relic around his neck.

And then—
with slow steps—

he left the plaza.