Reincarnated User Manual-Chapter 322: The Hero (1)

The cardinals, seated in a crescent moon formation, could not utter a word. In the sudden silence that descended, they stared intently at the holy sword embedded in the ground.

“Is it truly the Holy Sword?”

“Isn’t it just a plain white sword?”

“I sense extraordinary divine energy.”

“Are all your eyes nothing but holes? It’s clearly the Holy Sword!”

“Cardinal Deviale, aren’t you just favoring Priest Shiron?”

“Enough, be silent.”

“…Why bother calling us here for this?”

Cardinal Deviale crossed his arms and muttered under his breath at the barrage of remarks. Yet, the other cardinals couldn’t take their eyes off the Holy Sword.

“The divinity emanating from it is extraordinary. But there is something peculiar about it.”

“You mean its appearance?”

“Yes.”

A middle-aged man rose from his seat. His pointed ears indicated elven blood, and the deep wrinkles on his face suggested he had lived through many years.

This was Cardinal Caplo Lamang, the fourth eldest in the group. Narrowing his eyes, he compared the Holy Sword in Shiron’s possession to the one in his memory.

“It’s too short, barely over a meter long. And it’s unadorned, crude even.”

“…You speak as if you’ve seen it yourself.”

“Indeed, I have. I personally saw Kyrie’s Holy Sword.”

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“I see.”

Shiron’s face twisted with displeasure as he replied. He had thought presenting the Holy Sword would suffice, but now he sensed the situation might become more tedious than he expected.

Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—the look in Cardinal Caplo’s eyes did not convey hostility. Rather, it was pure curiosity and a thirst for understanding.

And rightly so.

Before Shiron drew the Holy Sword, Cardinal Caplo had maintained a neutral stance. He was the type to reserve judgment until he fully understood the situation.

“Where did you find this?”

It was then that curiosity flickered in Caplo’s eyes.

“Near the northern mountain range, in a labyrinth.”

“A labyrinth? Can you elaborate?”

“…One day, the location of the Holy Sword appeared in my mind. I was a curious child then, so I went on a treasure hunt with my younger sister, Lucia, to find it.” Ɍ𝐀NốʙĘŝ

“I see…”

Cardinal Caplo shifted his gaze from the Holy Sword to Shiron.

“You’re not lying. Could it be a revelation from the Lord to retrieve the Holy Sword?”

“A revelation?”

Some cardinals murmured amongst themselves. While many were elderly, Cardinal Caplo Lamang had lived since the Age of Chaos 500 years ago.

He had even witnessed the entirety of Hero Kyrie’s life. For such a man to invoke the Lord’s name and acknowledge the Holy Sword’s existence carried significant weight.

It was natural for neutral cardinals to lean toward Shiron. However, those harboring hostility remained unmoved.

“Cardinal Caplo, do not invoke the Lord’s name carelessly.”

The one who spoke sharply was a finicky-looking cardinal, Cardinal Secundino Salazar. Though he appeared middle-aged, his elven traits hinted at a much older age.

With eyes full of displeasure and irritation, he glared at Cardinal Caplo.

“To discern the Lord’s will, one must recite the Lord’s Prayer and offer sincere prayers. Even then, the Lord often does not respond.”

Cardinal Secundino’s sharp gaze shifted to Shiron.

“Ah, of course, I’m not suggesting we offer prayers idly in this place. After all, Priest Shiron appears to be a busy man.”

“Busy or not, it’s fine. You may pray as much as you like.”

Shiron shrugged, his expression relaxed. He had expected an outright clash when hostility was so openly displayed, but since the discussion continued, he became curious himself.

“Isn’t there a more definitive way to settle this?”

Cardinal Secundino abruptly stood from his seat and slowly approached the Holy Sword embedded in the floor.

“Would you like to touch it? Go ahead.”

“No.”

Shiron’s hand, which had been reaching to draw the sword, paused. Cardinal Secundino let out a deep sigh and spoke.

“According to scripture, only the Hero can wield the Holy Sword. If this sword truly is the Holy Sword, I should not be able to pull it out.”

“…I don’t recall hearing that before.”

Shiron tilted his head in confusion. Only the Hero could wield the Holy Sword? Was that even part of the lore?

[Right? Even Siriel and Glen have lifted the Holy Sword before.]

Even Latera tilted her head in agreement.

Whenever Shiron lost consciousness or was too exhausted to move, others had sheathed the sword and returned it to him.

If the Holy Sword could only be wielded by the Hero, such scenarios would have caused significant complications.

“In that case, it’s not the Holy Sword. Scripture cannot contain falsehoods.”

Cardinal Secundino smirked as he alternated his gaze between Shiron and the sword.

‘A so-called priest who hasn’t even properly studied scripture? Ridiculous.’

Secundino’s hostility toward Shiron grew. It was laughable for a cardinal to harbor such animosity toward a mere 25-year-old novice, yet his reasons were not entirely unfounded.

Recently, the soil mound raised by Cardinal Iris Cardiore had been brimming with sinister demonic energy.

While deeming Shiron a demon worshiper was a significant leap, six cardinals, including Secundino, currently regarded him as one.

Becoming a cardinal required more than faith and devotion. It demanded intense passion and commitment.

They had to burn themselves out fighting evil, overcome inner wounds, and face hardship and adversity head-on.

The driving force for him was pure hatred toward the demons.

Hundreds of years ago, when demons slaughtered his family, it wasn’t only Cardinal Secundino who bore immense enmity toward such wicked beings; everyone present shared that animosity.

Now, in this age of peace, demons had hidden themselves, and outside of the demon lands, it was rare to encounter any demonkind. Yet, hundreds of years ago, these wicked beings roamed freely across the continent.

As a result, most cardinals had inherited long-lived bloodlines.

Cardinal Deviale, once reduced to slavery by cultists, was an exceptional case. Those who lived closer to the era of war and chaos had an easier time ascending to the cardinalship.

‘Even so, Cardinal Deviale looks favorably upon Shiron Prient. He must consider Shiron to be a Hero.’

Nevertheless, being a cardinal did not negate certain qualifications. Even if Shiron were a demon worshiper, Secundino was prepared to acknowledge him as a Hero if he proved himself worthy.

“May I attempt to draw it?”

He sought permission.

“By all means. But what if it comes out easily? Are you going to execute me right here?”

“Who knows? That’s not for me to decide.”

Permission was granted.

“As the Lord wills.”

“…”

Shiron smirked, stepping back. Lucia and Yoru placed their hands on their sword hilts, while Seira silently recited a spell in preparation.

To be honest, even they thought the sword would be drawn. While they believed the sword Shiron wielded to be the Holy Sword, they had never heard of the legend claiming that only the Hero could touch it.

‘Even in my time, there was no such nonsense.’

Lucia swallowed nervously, watching the wrinkled hand reaching for the sword. If it was lifted, the hostile individuals present—

One, two, three… six of them.

‘Should I just cut off all their heads? Or perhaps their arms? There are too many to leave alive.’

The wrinkled hand extended toward the Holy Sword. Dozens of eyes focused intently on the moment it would be grasped.

In the silent space, a sharp metallic click echoed.

“…”

Secundino’s face twisted in frustration.

It wouldn’t budge. The sound just now was the blade shaking and striking the stone floor. Had the sword been one with the ground, such a noise wouldn’t have occurred.

But that lasted only a moment. Every attempt Secundino made to pull the sword now failed to produce even a metallic sound.

‘What’s going on? It really won’t come out?’

[It’s the will of the Lord! A miracle has occurred!]

“Ha…”

Latera cried out in awe, but Shiron looked on with an expression of utter confusion, a chill running down his spine.

‘So… it’s been watching me all along.’

From a place Shiron was entirely unaware of, without revealing its presence, secretly.

‘A damned stalker.’

“It won’t come out.”

Secundino, breaking into a cold sweat, turned to Shiron. Despite his age, Secundino was a cardinal who possessed immense power, enough to uproot trees and hurl boulders effortlessly. His flustered demeanor made his distress all the more evident.

“Did you use telekinesis magic?”

“…Are you suggesting we fight over this?”

“No. I simply cannot believe my eyes.”

Although Shiron’s gaze was filled with hostility, Secundino’s previously firm demeanor had softened considerably.

This was because he had witnessed the direct intervention of the divine.

Even after years of prayer, self-sacrificing penance, and facing death in battle against demons, the Lord had never responded…

But for this single moment, the Lord intervened.

“Aah…”

Hot tears streamed down Secundino’s face. Shiron grimaced at the middle-aged man’s sudden emotional outburst.

“Lord, this unworthy servant wishes to feel Your presence once more. If You deem my doubt and ignorance worthy of punishment, let flames burn my hands. If You choose to forgive me, let the sword be drawn.”

His words weren’t directed at Shiron. Secundino was confessing and reaffirming his faith in the presence of all.

Without wiping away his tears, Secundino once again extended his hand toward the Holy Sword.

And then—

Fwoosh!

Blazing flames erupted from the Holy Sword. The white fire surged up his arm, engulfing Secundino entirely.

Shiron’s eyes widened in shock, but Secundino’s face remained serene.

It was divine punishment. The Lord had judged that one unworthy to touch His chosen Hero’s sword had dared to test its sanctity.

‘I accept this punishment.’

No matter the searing pain, no matter if his flesh blistered and turned to ash, he would gratefully endure the sentence.

“What the hell are you doing!”

Shiron’s furious shout rang through the air.

Without hesitation, he threw himself into the raging flames.