I Start with 13 Hidden Traits Chapter-204

Ch-204. **The True Identity of the Black Soul**

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Clatter. Clatter.

Nearly a hundred knights on horseback were leaving the city.

Inside one of the carriages among them, Marquis Weiser sat stiffly, staring at the woman seated across from him.

“…….”

“……?”

Smile.

The woman facing Marquis Weiser flashed a brilliant smile.

Pure white hair, long eyelashes, immaculate skin.

She was so breathtakingly beautiful that no man could help but fall for her—yet upon seeing that smile, Marquis Weiser shuddered.

“Is there… any part of the journey that is uncomfortable for you?”

“No.”

“So… is that so?”

“Yes.”

“…… I understand.”

“Yes.”

A fixed exchange.

Silence followed.

No more words were spoken afterward.

It was, truly, a seat of thorns.

Marquis Weiser hurriedly shifted his gaze toward Serengeti, sitting beside him.

*Is this woman truly the Saint Seia?*

*Yes.*

Serengeti nodded slightly.

Marquis Weiser’s mouth went dry.

He had requested help from the heir, Randolph—but the one who arrived was the woman before him.

And when he learned who she truly was, he nearly fainted.

… The Saint Seia!

Among the saints within the Goddess Church, Saint Seia was a singular existence.

But she had unquestionably died during the Great Crusade.

That was the official story.

*If the fact that Saint Seia is alive becomes known, the Goddess Church will be turned upside down.*

Instead of coming himself, Heir Randolph had sent Saint Seia.

What was his intention?

Once in front of King Valan, Saint Seia’s identity would inevitably be exposed.

*…If the Saint Seia stands beside King Valan, even King Friedrich will not dare act rashly.*

The Conqueror of the Iron Kingdom—King Friedrich—had gone too far.

He was personally marching toward King Valan to declare war.

That arrogant beast intended to force King Valan to choose between unconditional surrender or death.

But if he were to see Saint Seia beside the Valan King, he would not recklessly commit such madness.

For the Goddess Church might truly intervene.

No matter how mighty the Iron Kingdom ruled in the East, it could not afford to make an enemy of the Goddess Church.

The problem, however…

Smile.

“…….”

Seeing Saint Seia’s pure, pristine smile again gave Marquis Weiser another throbbing headache.

*Haah… I don’t know if I can handle this.*

No matter that he held the noble rank of Marquis, he was still nothing more than the lord of a border city.

Meanwhile, Saint Seia was a name synonymous with “hope,” known by nearly everyone on the continent.

The moment news of her survival spread, the resulting shockwave would be immeasurable.

And yet Randolph had entrusted her to him.

*The heir trusts me.*

If there were no trust, he would never have entrusted a saint to him.

Fine.

That was fine—except…

“Saint, do you perhaps… know what ‘he’ is doing right now?”

“Yes.”

Saint Seia replied to the meaningless question he threw solely to break the silence.

That she knew the answer when Serengeti didn’t—Marquis Weiser blurted out hurriedly:

“C-could you tell me what he is doing?”

“He said he was going to have some fun.”

“P-pardon…?”

“He said he was going to a party.”

“……??”

*

*

 

*Splendid.*

The Golden Mask was satisfied.

The festival was unfolding in full splendor.

The feast that had gathered in one place was more exquisite than anything he had expected or calculated.

*Even the ‘Great Will of the Moon’ will surely be pleased.*

*Though it seems nothing surpasses the value of souls of ascent and descent.*

If there was one disappointment, it was that no feast had ever been more valuable than the soul of a Giant who lived during the mythic era.

Then again, that was only natural.

A being vast enough to be called a pillar supporting the world.

Not only enormous in physical scale, but its soul’s echelon was incomparably massive.

It would not be strange to call them demigods.

*Part of the purpose of the feast is to trace the paths they have walked until now.*

Through the souls they prepared, one could determine the recent movements of the patrons.

For example—the Golden Fox had persistently tormented the Goddess Church.

The soul of a cardinal or saint was something impossible to obtain lightly, even for them.

To break through that impenetrable protection and succeed in hunting them meant they had executed an operation nearly indistinguishable from war.

And recently, only one place had waged war against the Goddess Church.

*So it was you who moved the Balrog Order, Golden Fox.*

The Balrog Order!

The dark paladins who stirred the black stains.

To think they were moved by the Golden Fox.

That she would strike the Goddess Church directly was beyond all expectation.

The Golden Fox was also a master swordsman.

Countless imperial swords had learned directly from her—there was nothing more to be said.

*Golden Monkey… you were pursuing traces of the Old Empire.*

The soul of the “Black Emperor” presented earlier was tied to the Old Empire.

As for the Sixth Emperor, rival to the Six Heroes, almost nothing was publicly known.

They must have discovered the truth in the course of exploring the ruins of the Old Empire.

Yet compared to the heroes of the Hexagon, the soul of that “Black Emperor” was utterly lackluster.

The likes of “Riley” of the Six Heroes, who had appeared in the Abyssal Labyrinth—how exceptional he had been.

*The most straightforward is as expected—the Golden Lion. Exactly as always.*

The Golden Mask laughed inwardly.

Every patron gathered here hated the Goddess.

That was why they wore masks.

The being that controlled their bodies at will—the so-called “Divine Disease”—had stripped them of their true selves.

To regain meaning, they wore masks.

Yet too much time had passed.

Time dulls hatred and fury.

But not for the Golden Lion.

One by one, the Golden Mask examined the patrons’ souls—and finally stopped on one.

*…The Golden Goat.*

The Golden Goat.

The impossible twelfth Lineage patron—and the most unpredictable.

*What is certain is that he is deeply connected to Fifth Pillar.*

Hudson was the representative of the Labyrinth City and the kin of Fifth Pillar.

He had appeared with the Golden Goat at the auction, so a deep connection was inevitable.

In fact, it could not be ruled out that the Golden Goat *was* Fifth Pillar.

The Crow King, Fifth Pillar, was also veiled in mystery.

*But no event like the first feast will ever happen again.*

At the first feast, they had allowed the Golden Goat to perform the first tasting.

That had been a mistake.

It was an unspoken rule, yes—but because of it, no one became the owner of the feast.

No one expected him to spit *everything* back out.

But that luck would not occur this time.

*He had no time to prepare, and whatever soul he prepared will be pitiful.*

The Golden Goat had not prepared any souls at the first feast.

Meanwhile, the other patrons had spent ages preparing for this day.

No matter what, he was no match.

Even if he had prepared something, he would never escape being the last in line.

*And only one soul—a blackened soul, at that.*

As expected.

It was so predictable that a hollow laugh almost escaped him.

The Golden Goat had brought just one soul.

A blackened soul.

Not an ordinary soul—but a soul that had turned black meant one of two things:

A corrupted soul, or a soul bearing a powerful curse.

Either way, it was worthless.

*If it is corrupted, that alone proves its rank is insignificant. High-echelon beings do not become corrupted.*

He had said “rarely,” but in truth there were *none.*

Those who perfected their own qualifications had no reason to fall.

A completed being does not waver, and if they do not waver, they cannot fall.

Thus the soul belonged to someone incomplete.

And the other possibility:

*Or a soul completely devoured by a powerful curse. Meaning the soul was so pitiful that it could be overwhelmed by a curse.*

Equally worthless.

The soul brought by the Golden Goat was indeed trash.

Every patron gathered here thought the same.

They had handled, hunted, and devoured countless souls throughout their lives.

Of course they knew what a “black soul” signified.

*Tsk tsk. It won’t even reach ten thousand points.*

*He won’t even get a chance.*

*Is he mocking the feast?*

They openly sneered.

The twelfth patron—the Golden Goat—had never pleased them.

Who would welcome a rival who suddenly intruded?

Especially one who had ruined the previous feast.

If he managed even a perfect score, that would be miraculous.

…Or so they thought.

“What?”

“You must be joking…!”

“W-wait. Isn’t one of the digits wrong?”

Their eyes widened as they denied what appeared before them.

For they could not possibly believe it.

**【666,666】**

Over six hundred sixty thousand points…!

It was more than double the score of the Golden Mask.

That meant the value of that “blackened soul” was far greater than even a Giant from the mythic era.

*…Impossible.*

The Golden Mask stared in silence at the score before him.

He had not seen incorrectly.

And yet he could not understand.

The value determined by the *Great Will of the Moon* was absolute. Immutable.

It could not be wrong.

…It *couldn’t* be.

And yet—why did he so desperately want to deny it?

“Whose soul could it possibly be?”

Everyone wondered.

They *had* to wonder.

The true identity of that blackened soul.

Fwoooosh!

Suddenly the moonlight’s crimson glow intensified.

The vivid red light, as though piercing through the ceiling, wrapped all the displayed souls together—and ignited them.

Rruooooooo—!

The towering blaze soon formed into the shape of a single being.

And that shape screamed as it devoured all the souls.

No—not quite.

*It was the souls that screamed.*

Every patron realized it.

The one crying out was not the manifested monster, but the *souls being devoured* by the monster.

The blackened soul presented by the Golden Goat—its overwhelming monstrous presence *forced* them to scream.

Even the demigod Giant of the mythic era.

And upon seeing it, every patron’s expression froze.

“…That form of flame is…”

“……No. It cannot be.”

They all recognized that silhouette.

How could anyone *not* know that monster?

Though this was the first time they had seen it in person.

But it was unmistakable.

The Golden Mask finally spoke.

“How could you possibly have *that* soul…?!”

It was the astonishment of someone witnessing possession of the unattainable.

How could the Golden Goat possess the soul of that *cursed being*?

Because the soul belonged to—

The Hunting Dogs of Ruin.

Among them, the monster that had instilled the most fear and helplessness into countless beings.

**Despair.**

…One of the Four Calamities—
**the soul of *Despair*.**

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