FSFSLU 9

Chapter 9

Marcel’s judgment had been right.

That Patrick was part of the Demon King’s army, that he planted bombs in priests and killed them.

If such truths had been passed on to Isabel, she would’ve been devastated beyond recovery.

Ironic, isn’t it? Back then, Marcel hiding the truth from Isabel is the very reason she’s in danger now.

Fortunately, I realized it before it was too late, so I could send a quest telling her to refuse the handshake… but that’s not a fundamental solution.

There’s no way Isabel could naturally refuse Patrick’s handshake.

“Uh, um…”

See that? That flustered face.

How could she be so transparent?

If this drags on, Patrick might just grab her hand himself. What now?

Suddenly, one idea comes to mind.

When the priest doesn’t initiate contact, there are three ways for a Guardian Angel to influence them:

Contact through dreams—“revelation.”
Sending an image directly before their eyes—“illusion.”
And lastly, descending directly into the priest’s body.

“Descent…”

I had chosen “illusion” to stop Isabel from running down the hallway, thinking she might not withstand a descent.

But in truth, it would’ve been fine even then.

Isabel now bears the stigmata of the goddess Sunya. There’s no way she couldn’t endure it.

Then!

[Choose one of the following actions.]

[Refuse the handshake naturally. (0/1)]
[Prepare yourself so you won’t be shocked if Sumiel descends. (0/1)]

It was my mistake not to discuss this with Isabel in advance. But what could I do?

The situation had already arrived.

Despite its lofty name, descent isn’t something I can just do at will. If Isabel rejects it, I can’t borrow her body.

Luckily, Isabel didn’t reject it.

[Prepare yourself so you won’t be shocked if Sumiel descends. (1/1)]

“Phew.”

Thank you, Isabel.

Trust me.

I took one deep breath.

And leapt straight into the glass.

Swoooosh—

A strange sound. Like the wind piercing through my body.

For a moment there was such resistance that it was hard to stay conscious, but then it vanished in an instant…

And the next moment, I was engulfed by a storm of sensations rushing from every direction.

“…!”

It’s different. Completely different.

The feeling of being an angel in the Celestial Space versus inhabiting a human body on earth—like night and day.

Sharper, more vivid. Now I was no longer a conceptual existence, but a real person.

Success.

“Why are you hesitating, Sister Isabel? Your arm will fall off.”

I looked down at Patrick’s arm, then raised my gaze to his face. Perhaps my stare was sharper than I realized, because he flinched slightly.

So this is his face. Wrinkled skin. Thin eyebrows. Deep-set eyes.

More infuriating and more disgusting than when I saw him in the book.

Among all the villains in The Long Tale, none enraged me as much as Patrick Hanemas.

Even when the Demon King revived and his infiltrators began revealing themselves one by one, Patrick concealed his identity until the very end.

He perfectly played the role of “Zeroprime’s bishop opposing the Demon King.”

By disguising mistakes as misjudgments, he drove Zeroprime into countless crises, pushing priests into reckless battlefields.

And on the day Dorothea, a Demon King legion commander, unleashed the undead parade…

Patrick detonated every bomb he had planted in priests.

“When I first read that scene, my blood pressure shot up so high I felt my neck stiffen…”

You’ll never know, Patrick.

As a reader of The Long Tale, how desperately I longed for your cruel punishment.

To see that loathsome face in person now—disgusting.

And now, with those filthy hands, you’re trying to plant a bomb in Isabel?

“Haa.”

I sighed, using Isabel’s body.

It was something Isabel, who admired Patrick, would never do. That was why, before reprimanding the rudeness, he looked utterly startled.

“Sister Isabel?”

“Yes, Bishop. Let’s shake hands.”

I said it and thrust out my hand.

Patrick stared down at it, bewildered, but in the end clasped Isabel’s hand.

To him, it must’ve looked like I hesitated, then changed my mind.

Exactly.

I’d been waiting for this, Patrick.

“…!”

Shock spread across his face.

“Why so surprised?”

“W-wait a moment…”

“Be quiet.”

Why was Patrick shocked?

Simple. Because he couldn’t plant the bomb in Isabel.

Patrick can inscribe a special mark on a priest’s hand during a handshake. Once triggered, it forcibly drains the priest’s divine power.

According to The Long Tale’s lore, when a priest exceeds their divine power limit, their life force is consumed instead.

Patrick’s mark artificially induces this “life-force depletion,” collapsing the body from within.

A remote bomb for priests, usable only by Patrick—whose mastery of theology and divine power made him worthy of a bishop’s seat.

But unfortunately for Patrick, I am not a priest.

I am an angel.

“So this is how it works.”

Only after descending did I realize it.

Divine power wasn’t just some mysterious energy exchanged between priest and god.

Divine power is god.

Just as human bodies are made of cells, angels and the goddess Sunya herself are made of divine power.

God hands over a fragment of themselves to priests.

The same with me. Divine power is me, and I am divine power.

So the moment Patrick’s mark tried to engrave itself on Isabel’s body—

I understood every part of its mechanism.

Patrick made a stupid mistake. Can you wet water? Can you burn fire?

He had just tried to attack a flowing river with a water gun.

Good. The mark doesn’t work on me.

Now that I know how to engrave it, what’s next?

“W-wait!”

Patrick yanked his hand back, but it was too late.

His own hand now bore the exact same mark he had tried to give Isabel.

And Patrick knew better than anyone what that meant.

I met his bewildered, panic-stricken gaze head-on.

“H-how…?”

The problem was solved. Isabel wouldn’t die, and Patrick had received a dire warning. Now he was the one carrying the bomb.

So, is it over? Should I return Isabel’s body and go back to the Celestial Space?

No. Not yet.

This is just the beginning.

Patrick had laughed when he heard Isabel had been chosen by a Guardian Angel.

What talent. To be appointed as an angel’s agent at just twenty.

Surely, Isabel would only continue on the road of success as a priest.

Which meant only one thing for Patrick to do.

Before the Demon King revived, he needed to plant a bomb in her.

The more capable the priest he killed, the greater his merit as part of the Demon King’s army.

With another agent—Inquisitor Lister Lemaine—already infamous among the Demon King’s forces, being able to personally kill another agent was Patrick’s stroke of luck.

But then—

I’m ruined…!

He’d been caught. Thoroughly exposed.

After planting bombs in dozens of priests without being discovered, to be unmasked by some airheaded priest like her?

And to have the trick turned back on him?

“….”

Patrick panicked, but quickly regained composure.

After all, he was Zeroprime’s bishop. It took more than abundant divine power to reach this seat.

Never once had he lagged in cunning or calculation.

“Was it… your angel who ordered this, Sister Isabel?”

He had to flip the situation. Patrick strode forward, looming so his shadow fell across Isabel’s face.

Projecting intimidation without the slightest hint of weakness.

“Did your angel command you to give me back what I gave you?”

Isabel gave no reply. Only looked up at him. Growing uneasy, Patrick pressed further.

“I’ve heard your angel gives you active instructions. But even angels don’t know everything about humans. Surely your angel misunderstood my intent as if I wanted to harm you.”

“If it wasn’t harm, then what was it?”

“I merely… worried you might lack divine power. I meant only to lend you a little of mine.”

Not a complete lie. After all, the bomb mark required his divine power to infiltrate another’s body.

Isabel gasped theatrically, clasping her hands over her mouth.

“Really, Bishop? You were worried about me?”

“Yes, exactly. So—”

“It’s my first time being worried about by the Demon King’s army!”

Patrick felt his heart plummet.

His parched lips barely moved.

“W-what…”

“You’ve planted the same mark in other priests, haven’t you? So they’ll all die when the Demon King awakens. Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

“Y-your angel told you that?”

“This has nothing to do with my angel. Did you really think I was just some grinning fool?”

Patrick’s teeth ground together.

His secret ties to the Demon King. His intent to kill Isabel. The bombs he had already planted in other priests.

All exposed.

He didn’t know how she learned it, but there was only one way now: silence her forever.

But then—

“…!”

His body’s divine power drained rapidly as Isabel activated the mark. Patrick dropped to his knees, shouting desperately.

“S-stop!”

Thankfully, the mark deactivated in time.

But only temporarily. At any moment Isabel could do it again with a flick of her hand.

Kneeling, Patrick looked up at her. Yet somehow, their eye level was nearly the same.

Which Isabel seemed to dislike.

“Lower your head further.”

“What…”

“Try anything foolish, and I’ll kill you—using your own trick.”

“I-if you kill me, Sister Isabel, you’ll be in trouble too—”

“I won’t. My body bears a Guardian Angel.”

Unbelievable. Was this truly Isabel?

The childish personality gone, every word striking his weakest points.

She seemed like an entirely different person.

Had becoming an agent changed her personality? Or was all this her angel’s doing?

No.

It wasn’t the angel.

The timing didn’t match. Patrick had been planting bombs long before Isabel’s angel arrived.

Even if the angel had sensed and reversed his mark, it couldn’t have known his past deeds.

Which meant—

It was Isabel all along…!

The beginning of a grand misunderstanding.

Patrick convinced himself: Isabel had always been watching him, pretending to be a silly child running through Zeroprime’s halls.

Her true goal was to wait for the day he tried to plant a mark on her.

She had reason to. Not just to block the bomb, but to steal its mechanism and use it against him.

She had bided her time for years, playing the fool, until Patrick returned from his travels. Then she applied for the pilgrimage, deliberately delayed departure with excuses about paperwork, all to ensure Patrick himself would see her off.

And now, when he finally tried to mark her, Isabel blocked it, learned its secret, and turned it back on him.

Such talent and cunning, hidden all this time, Isabel…!

How long had this plan been in motion? How many people had she deceived with her innocent act?

Worse, that meant she let other priests be marked while waiting for her chance. She risked them for her own goal. How ruthless, how thorough!

Then once again his divine power drained away. Patrick yelped, slamming his forehead against the chapel floor.

He knew better than anyone the mark’s power. At this rate, he could truly die.

“P-please stop, Sister Isabel, I…”

“Was the Demon King so tempting you betrayed the goddess? Was that cocoon really so beautiful?”

Patrick choked on his breath. Did she even know he had seen the Demon King’s cocoon?

Isabel leaned close, whispering in his ear.

“Where is it now?”

“I-I don’t know!”

Again the power drained, and Patrick screamed.

“I really don’t know! Damn it, what I saw was just a fragment of the cocoon! I thought it was the whole thing, but it wasn’t!”

“Damn it?”

Patrick’s blood ran cold. He stammered.

“N-no! I never said that!”

“You really take me for a fool, Patrick Hanemas.”

“Argh! S-sorry! Please stop…”

Was this divine punishment, paying back for all the priests he had bombed? Was Isabel truly a heavenly judge?

Unbelievable. How had he ended up like this? He was Zeroprime’s bishop, the highest here, never once suspected.

And yet now one question arose.

Why hadn’t Isabel called Susanna? Surely because she had no proof of his betrayal.

Then what did she want, tormenting him like this?

The answer came in her next words.

“Being able to kill you anytime is quite convenient. Just like you put a leash on dozens of priests, I’ve put one on you, Bishop Patrick.”

A leash. Patrick instantly understood the implication.

“You mean… to blackmail me?”

“Exactly.”

Isabel grinned, then whispered a few words to him.

“Can you do it?”

“Eh? W-well, if you mean, um…”

“If not, I’ll just use the mark.”

“N-no! It’s possible! I can do it!”

Patrick practically shrieked. Isabel finally gave a satisfied smile.

“I’ll give you one minute.”

Scrambling up with a twisted, frantic face, Patrick rushed out of the chapel.