Reincarnated User Manual

Shiron, unlike he did with Victor who became the emperor in the original history, could not confidently claim to know much about Austin.

“Of course, that’s to be expected,”

Austin was a minor character in the original history who only showed signs of illness and then died without much impact.

‘Honestly, I think I barely remember his name…’

The only certain fact Shiron knew was that Austin had the support of factions led by the captain of the royal guards.

On the other hand, he was well-acquainted with Henry, the second prince.

Arrogant, greedy, filled with jealousy, and a villain who recklessly used his subordinates for his own safety and benefit, as if his role were scripted.

Hence, the frail Austin inevitably died in competition with the bold and brash Henry.

Not through an assassination like poisoning, but by simply collapsing and dying due to his short life.

In front of Shiron were immediate issues that needed addressing, and Austin, who had died of natural causes in several repeated routes, was, to be honest, less of a threat than Siriel.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have posed any threat even if left alone.

But.

Shiron was a person who never forgot a grudge.

It was natural for him not to ignore provocations.

Once wronged, he had to avenge it, even if it took a long time. And not just an equal payback, but two or three times more to be able to forget without any lingering feelings.

Late at night…

In a quiet urban area, lay the finance minister Strasser’s villa.

“Ugh! Uh!”

The guard struggled against the sudden strangulation.

“Wow. You’re strong.”

“Uh! Cough!”

Eventually, the guard’s body slumped like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Sigh.”

Shiron, wearing a black hood, wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. This was the eleventh time. It had been quite a hassle to knock them unconscious without killing them.

-Young master, we’re done here too. You can come in now.

A cheerful voice called from beyond the wall. At Encia’s signal, Shiron swiftly climbed over.

Demon maids in black hoods, like Shiron, were present. He could have included Seira, but for secretive tasks, involving as few people as possible was prudent. Trustworthy and obedient companions like Encia and Ophilia were ideal.

Shiron crept closer, careful to avoid stepping on the bodies strewn across the ground.

“Just to check, you didn’t kill anyone, right?”

“Hey, of course not. That’s not difficult.”

Encia’s response elicited a nod from Shiron.

Many witnesses were crucial for the plan to undermine the first prince’s foundation, necessitating a chilling result with no fatalities.

Creak—

Shiron wrapped a handkerchief around the doorknob and gently pushed the villa’s door open. Inside, he admired the expensive marble sculptures and strode in confidently.

His current task was to find a secret place, specifically a room resembling that of a devil worshipper or a heretic.

“If you find an entrance to a hidden room or cellar, come to me.”

“Okay.”

With their succinct acknowledgment, the women commenced a thorough search of the mansion.

“Young master. Found it.”

Shortly after they had dispersed at the entrance, Ophilia returned to him.

She led him to an underground cellar that seemed perfect for scheming.

The cellar, long relegated to storage, bore no traces of recent human activity.

The musty odor of mold assaulted their nostrils, and a single, flickering torch provided the only light.

“This place is good.”

With a cunning grin, Shiron passed sharp-edged daggers to Encia and Ophilia.

Without hesitation, they sliced into their forearms forcefully.

Squeak—

A slender line formed on their soft skin as blood welled up and began to drip.

“Where should I put this?”

“Um…”

After a brief pause, Shiron indicated a corner of the wall.

The demons nodded at his signal.

Swoosh—

Using their blood as paint, they began drawing on the wall.

Shiron, arms crossed, directed them like a supervisor.

“Yeah, that’s good. Scatter it there. A hexagram and a goat skull would be nice, too.”

“Should I add lightning patterns and thorny vines?”

“Hold on.”

Shiron took out a notebook from his pocket. After flipping through a few pages, he found the heretical phrases he had written during his time as a novice priest.

“Listen to the call of our savior god. And witness the advent of the apostle… Write it big, like that.”

“Ugh.”

Encia, looking at the moldy wall, turned back. She gave Shiron, still with his arms crossed, a disgusted look.

“That’s really awful. I don’t know any demon with such a poor sense of style.”

“It’s not going to be traceable specifically to you. Just do as I say.”

“This is a great insult to the demon community. Even though we’re leaving traces with our blood, it implies that someone with considerable ties to demons is behind it…”

“Forgot our contract? You agreed to actively cooperate.”

“…Alright.”

Encia pursed her lips and wrote the phrases as Shiron had instructed.

She didn’t understand the direct correlation between killing the demon god and framing an unknown human as a devil worshiper, but since Shiron, the contractor, required it, she refrained from asking further questions and simply followed his instructions.

On the other hand, unlike the disgruntled Encia, Ophilia hummed while drawing.

She demonstrated artistic skill, using only her fingers and blood to create scenes of demonic landscapes and demons running around, as elaborate as holy paintings in a cathedral.

Shortly thereafter,

A temple that appeared to worship an evil god was completed.

Bizarre phrases covered the walls, and apocalyptic pictures depicting war and destruction filled the room.

Finally, Shiron took out a piece of black glass from his pocket and dropped it on the floor.

[A peculiar fragment of a god.]

The glass pieces, emitting a vile magical energy, were sufficient to give the Steel Knight Regiment of the Castle of Blessings a reason to act.

‘This should be enough.’

Satisfied with the convincing scene, Shiron nodded and left the underground cellar.

But this was not the end.

If left as was, the finance minister who had noticed the intrusion might try to destroy the absurd evidence.

So, people had to know what had happened in this villa.

And that was easy to do.

Shiron took out a jar of oil he had prepared earlier and poured its contents onto the floor.

“Let’s go.”

The three of them calmly left the villa, and a bolt from the blue set the mansion on fire.

The next morning.

Eldrina, who had left her training room for a task, gazed at the visitor who had come to the mansion.

A quite familiar face for someone who had arrived without notice. The mistress of the house greeted him with a pleased smile.

“Cardinal Deviale? What brings you here?”

“Lady, I have an urgent request.”

“A request?”

As Eldrina looked puzzled, Deviale handed her a document.

[Conscription Order]

“…He has just returned from the expedition less than a month ago, and now a conscription order?”

“This isn’t for Sir Hugo.”

“Then?”

“It’s for your nephew.”

Deviale turned the pages of the document to show a paper stamped with the seal of the Castle of Blessings.

“Do you remember the fire that broke out in the suburbs recently?”

“Of course. It was widely reported in the newspapers for several days. But what does that have to do with our child?”

Our child.

Although Shiron was neither born from Eldrina nor listed in the family register, he was to be Siriel’s partner in the future. Thus, it was not surprising to see Eldrina’s expression harden.

Looking at her confused face, Deviale adjusted his glasses and continued his explanation.

“It’s related. Your nephew is a priest affiliated with the Rien diocese.”

“So you are Shiron Prient.”

Shiron faced his guest in the main reception room of the main house.

The guest boasted a physique that could be mistaken for a knight, his muscles bulging beneath the priestly robe adorned with the white seal of a cardinal. He was Cardinal Deviale, imposing enough to be slightly overwhelming.

Cardinal Deviale.

Shiron greeted him with the sign of the cross.

“Your Eminence, I am well aware of your renowned reputation. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Brother Shiron, there’s no need to be so formal.”

Deviale straightened Shiron by grasping his shoulder.

A brief touch.

The feel of the body beneath his hand was surprisingly robust for a clergyman.

‘Indeed… worthy of being recommended by Knight Malleus.’

The muscular build, palpable through the thin cloth, made Deviale nod in approval.

“We will be seeing a lot of each other in the future. Call me more casually.”

“Then I’ll address you as ‘Cardinal.’”

Shiron smiled amiably at Deviale.

The two conversed over refreshments served by the mansion’s servants.

“Let’s get to the main point.”

Deviale set down his teacup as he spoke.

“A conscription order from the Castle of Blessings has been issued for you.”

“I am aware of it.”

“Then this discussion will be quick.”

Deviale’s smile disappeared as his demeanor turned more serious.

“Recently, there has been a major fire in the suburbs.”

“…Were there any casualties?”

Shiron leaned forward, his face etched with concern. Deviale blinked at his earnest expression.

‘What a commendable young man.’

Deviale began to take a liking to Shiron, who appeared to prioritize human life despite their recent acquaintance.

“Fortunately, no one was hurt. However, the incident is serious enough to require direct action from the church.”

Deviale passed a stack of papers to Shiron.

Shiron accepted the papers, squinting as he scanned the report. It detailed a peculiar temple found in the basement of the burned building.

After reading the document, Shiron neatly arranged the papers and set them on the table.

“May I ask a few questions?”

“…What are they?”

“Have any other priests been conscripted besides me?”

“Just you.”

“…That’s odd. There should be a considerable number of priests residing in Rien.”

Shiron remembered a previous conscription. In Lucerne, whenever traces of heresy were detected, all local priests were mobilized to saturate the area with holy presence.

Deviale let out a heavy sigh at Shiron’s skeptical reaction.

“The situation is serious.”

His fist, hard as iron, clenched.

“It’s due to a revelation written in demon’s blood.”

“A demon… you say?”

“Yes.”

Deviale gave a single nod at Shiron’s look of astonishment.

“For the past few centuries, demons that had disappeared, even those rare in the demonic realm, have reemerged and brought apocalyptic revelations to the world.”

“…”

“If we respond with numbers, we risk unnecessary sacrifices. That’s the judgment of His Holiness from the Castle of Blessings.”

Deviale thought of the recommendation letter from Malleus.

Judgment and experience beyond his years, and divine prowess surpassing that of a bishop.

The most extraordinary talent of Lucerne, setting records as the youngest and fastest to rise.

These factors solidified Deviale’s belief.

“Currently, I am the only cardinal in Rien, and the bishops are on an expedition south of the Makal Mountains. Thus, you’re our only option.”

Deviale slowly stood up and reached out his hand to Shiron.

“Then I will gladly step forward.”

Shiron, with a contented smile, shook the robust hand.

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