Reincarnated User Manual

Chapter 191: Marking (1)

Cardinal Deviale.

Despite being well over forty, his sturdy body, neatly swept-back blond hair, and immaculate attire easily allowed anyone to guess what kind of person he was without needing to speak to him.

He may be a high-ranking noble, perhaps from a wealthy class. However, the important thing wasn’t what appeared on the outside. It’s not that I wanted to nag about how the inside was more important than the outward appearance, which we were all tired of hearing. It meant Shiron had taken quite a liking to Deviale.

[A nice fragrance is coming from you.]

‘Really?’

[Yes, I can smell flowers, and not only that, there is a refreshing feeling like walking through a forest in midsummer. It seems like you’ve lived a good life. If you keep living like this, you might go to heaven.]

Latera said this, and Shiron followed Deviale unquestioningly to the ‘place where the hero must appear.’

…Of course, Deviale was the only outsider who knew that Shiron was a hero, and although they had worked together for a while, it still felt odd to bring up any doubts.

The current atmosphere of high tension meant there was nothing wrong with being cautious. For example, even now, as they passed through the main entrance of the hospital, Deviale insisted that this was where the hero must emerge.

As far as Shiron was concerned, the only place a hero should appear was to subjugate the ‘Apostle’ associated with the Demon Lord.

Maybe it involved bringing peace to conflict zones, or eradicating all the unhappy people in the world. In ‘Reincarnation of the Sword Saint’, the role of a player who possessed the Holy Sword was, naturally, to kill all the Apostles and also kill the Demon Lord.

Even Glenn, who was currently in the Demon Realm, had aged. His foresight had likely faded as much as the Apostles that had escaped his notice.

While riding the hospital elevator, Shiron did not let go of the Holy Sword in his pocket. However,

“…What is this?”

Despite tightly gripping the Holy Sword, the top floor reached by the elevator seemed too tranquil to be under the influence of an Apostle. It was supposed to resemble an unavoidable disaster. If it weren’t for the patients lying in beds along the hallway, all appearing quite serious, it would merely seem like a hotel for affluent patients.

“Was the job I was supposed to do just treating affluent patients?”

“The person we are about to meet is indeed affluent, but it is certainly not an unpleasant or wicked task for you, sir.”

The ebony doors swung open. Deviale guided Shiron into a VIP hospital room.

“…Huh?”

Upon opening the door, an unexpected person appeared, his face covered in grotesque scars. Shiron blinked for a moment, trying to recognize the person in front of him.

‘…Dexter Dras.’

Before Shiron could speak, Dexter laughed first.

“Isn’t this Shiron. Long time no see.”

“Have you been well, Mr. Dexter?”

“What do you mean ‘Mr.’! You can call me uncle if you like. You’ve grown a lot since I last saw you.”

“Did you know each other?”

Deviale watched the two exchanging warm greetings. Dexter shared a light hug with Shiron.

“Of course. We’ve seen each other from time to time.”

“I should have visited you separately. I apologize.”

“No need. It’s enough to meet and be glad just before dying. That’s enough for someone like me.”

Dexter spoke wistfully and sighed. This unfamiliar sight caused Shiron to raise an eyebrow.

“Cardinal, the task I must undertake isn’t…”

“Lord Dexter, could you please move inside?”

“Alright.”

It seemed that the task for the hero wasn’t to treat Dexter’s scars.

“Brother Shiron. Inside.”

After all, the scars on Dexter’s face were a curse that couldn’t be healed by holy methods.

Depending on the situation, but generally, the way to deal with a curse in ‘Reincarnation of the Sword Saint’ was to kill the sorcerer who cast it. Even with a Holy Sword and Latera’s blessing, there was no way to heal his scars.

[So… does that mean he has to live like that?]

‘…Just find and kill the one who cursed him. But the problem is, the culprit is in the Demon Realm.’

Fortunately, Shiron knew who had cursed Dexter: the 7th Apostle, Korax. Killing him would cleanly solve everything.

Korax was the administrator of a temple in the deepest part of the Demon Realm. The number 7 indicated he was the last to become an Apostle, but unlike the others, whose thoughts were unfathomable, he was relatively understandable.

Unlike Camilla, who never left the Night Trail Window for fear of death, he was confined to the Demon Realm. However, Dexter received his incurable injury because he ventured into Korax’s territory. As long as he didn’t step into the Demon Realm, he could be absolutely safe from Korax’s curse.

“That’s it.”

However, looking at the man on the bed, Shiron had to reconsider.

Wrapped in bandages that left no gaps, and not just any bandages, but those finely torn from a ‘means’ intended to cover the body of a high priest. Yet, even such sacred bindings could not contain the demonic energy, something that made Shiron furrowed his brows.

“…Who is this?”

“My son.”

It was Dexter, not Deviale, who responded.

“Not long ago, I heard that my son was hospitalized. I halted the expedition and came back, but by the time I returned, he was in this condition.”

“Even when I arrived, the erosion from the demonic energy was quite advanced. No matter how much holy magic or holy water I used, there was no improvement.”

The cardinal’s voice, already low, grew even quieter.

“So…”

“I understand, Your Eminence. You don’t need to say any more.”

Shiron interrupted Deviale from speaking further. With Dexter present, who might not understand Shiron’s circumstances, Deviale turned his gaze towards Dexter, following Shiron’s lead.

“Lord Dexter. Could you please step outside?”

“…”

“I ask you kindly.”

“Understood.”

Dexter’s voice was tinged with tears as he responded. He had stayed up all night waiting for the cardinal. The person Deviale brought was a young man Dexter had seen several times before, making it difficult for him to retract his steps.

Shiron understood his feelings and wasn’t upset. It was clear to anyone that leaving a patient, whom not even the cardinal’s holy magic could aid, in the hands of a brash young man seemed illogical.

Only after Dexter left the room could Shiron finally relax his body.

“This is the task I must undertake.”

“Yes. I’m hesitant to say this, but since even the cardinal’s holy magic couldn’t heal the wounds, it was believed that only the hero’s power could offer help, unless it were the Pope himself, who couldn’t leave the homeland.”

Shiron spoke with resignation, and Deviale bowed his head in apology.

“Lord Dexter is a benefactor who saved my life during the expedition to the demon realm. I couldn’t just ignore his request.”

“I wasn’t blaming you, Your Eminence. It’s just a relief.”

It was fortunate that it wasn’t an apostle’s emergence. After all, the appearance of an apostle in the heart of the empire would have been an ominous sign. Reassured, Shiron reached out towards the patient.

Whoosh—

A massive burst of divine power erupted, driving out the demonic energy emanating from the patient with the divinity filling the room.

‘I am living in the same era as a hero…!’

Deviale squinted against the dazzling light, determined to imprint this historic moment in his memory as a living witness.

A minute passed, and his eyes began to sting.

Ten minutes went by, and tears streamed from his burning eyes.

Thirty minutes later, Deviale had not blinked once. His unblinking stare might have seemed almost fanatical, but the opinions of others mattered not to him.

Thanks to the released divine power, his eyes were not even sore. Deviale was filled with a desire to be the sole witness to this miracle.

However, in stark contrast to the grateful cardinal, Shiron’s face was severely distorted.

[Why isn’t there any improvement?]

Latera also sensed something was amiss. Despite incrementally increasing the output of divine power from thirty minutes ago, even from ten seconds ago, the demonic energy bursting from the wound he was touching showed no signs of dissipating.

Shiron found this odd and ceased emitting light.

“…Hero?”

“Your Eminence, may I remove the bandages?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“It’s expensive to rip these off since they’re not just any bandages, but something seems off.”

Understanding, Deviale replied. Shiron then drew a dagger from his pocket and began to cut the bandages. Zzt—The flesh and pus underneath were stuck together. Shiron carefully cut through the bandages one by one.

As the patient’s naked body was revealed, Shiron sighed in exhaustion.

“Your Eminence.”

“Yes, Hero.”

“This appears to be a major problem.”

“Ah…?”

Deviale responded with a surprised look.

A wound that could not be healed even with such divine power was unimaginable for Deviale.

Shiron pointed to the area below the patient’s navel, the danjeon. The rotting wound had grown new flesh thanks to the divine power, but demonic energy was still seeping out.

“It’s a curse.”

“Then we must…”

“It’s no use. I know very well what this curse is… It’s tough… ordinary methods won’t work.”

“Then?”

“We’ll have to kill the one who cast the curse. And fortunately, I know who that is.”

After saying this to Deviale, Shiron opened the door to call Dexter, who was outside.

However, it wasn’t just Dexter waiting for Shiron.

Thud-

Ouch-

A scream came from beyond the door. Shiron tilted his head and cautiously peeked outside.

There, a girl clutching the back of her head was sprawled on the floor.

“…What are you doing?”

Shiron casually asked Lucia, who was holding a bouquet of white chrysanthemums.

“Well, I was waiting outside since they said treatment was underway…”

Shiron felt as if he had experienced something similar in the past.