A man with jet-black hair and pasty-white skin fell onto the ground, his face reflecting utter despair. Little pieces with moons carved on them fell around him, their clattering one of utter despair. The culprit behind the Holy Son of Black God’s despair stood up, before reaching out to a bottle that had been placed on a slightly elevated table, and another despairing moan crawled around the room.

“So, five games, five losses. Per person. That makes it a grand total of fifteen losses in a single day.” Claud, who was watching the match with Lily and Risti, placed down his notebook. “No changes to the Moon Phase rankings for the three of us, although we can definitely put him at first place for mental fortitude.”

Nero, whose eyes were fixed on the bottle in Schwarz’s hands, twitched. “You guys are monsters. I’m the best Moon Phase player in the Black Church. If you could beat me, you definitely can beat everyone else there.”

“You do know you are the Holy Son of the Black God, right?” Risti pointed out. “Even if they could win, I don’t think they would dare to. You’ve been spoiled through and through.”

“What?”

“Did you play with them openly? Did you hide your identity before challenging them?” Risti asked. “Or did you just sit down and demand a game?”

Nero twitched. “The latter.”

“My point exactly,” Risti replied. “If you’re someone really important, no matter what you want to do, other people will give way to you. That’s just how it is. You must hide your identity, hide it under multiple layers, and have an identity that seems just important enough to be treated seriously and nothing else. Otherwise, your friends and elders would just lose to you; it’s no skin off their back anyway.”

“But we were betting—”

“Let me guess. Money and lifestones, right? Anything that’s really important isn’t included,” Risti replied. “Am I right?”

“Eh?” Nero shook. “How?

“They can just claim their losses from your caretakers afterwards,” Risti cut in. “Man. You’re a tetra-folder. You’re like what, two hundred years old? Three hundred?”

“…Twenty-two, actually.”

“Oh, twenty-two? That actually makes more—”

“Eh?”

“Wait,” said Schwarz. “Did you just say twenty-two? Twenty-two hundred years old? Man, that’s actually—”

“Just twenty-two,” said Nero.

Claud, who was busy slapping his ears, felt the world’s unfairness crash all around him. Other than his self-proclaimed good looks, there was absolutely nothing he could compare with the kid before him. Not only was he younger, he had a far longer lifespan, far greater strength, and a very enviable position.

“How could the world be this unfair?” Claud muttered. “Kid, you’re twenty-two. But a tetra-folder? Really?”

“Ehe.”

The master thief felt the muscles in his face twitch wildly. As Lily patted his head in an oddly maternal fashion, Risti and Schwarz gave Nero a good once over, and then shook their heads.

“The world is truly unfair,” said Schwarz.

“D-don’t think too hard about it,” said Risti. “Well, this does at least explain why you fell into a trap this easily. I was wondering how an old monster a couple of centuries old had been turned into a thrall this easily, but if you were actually twenty-two, that does explain it.”

“In that case, how old is Holy Daughter Clarissa?” Lily asked.

“Three hundred and fifty-three,” Risti promptly replied.

“Fifty-four,” Schwarz corrected. “You forgot to add the new year inside.”

“Alright, she’s the real thing,” Claud concluded. “Makes sense, given their temperaments. Keep staying young, kid. Makes your mind faster and quicker.”

“Am I just immature?” Nero asked, a touch of worry on his face. “I know I can’t be compared to the stately Clarissa, but…”

“But?”

“N-nothing.” He looked at the pieces around him, before picking them up, cutting a sorrowful air with his movements. “I’m not really what you’d think of when you think of a Holy Son, right?”

Schwarz tilted his head. “I don’t really understand the churches of the Coloured Gods. But you’re a Holy Son. I would expect you to act like a teenager or a kid. Now, if you ask me, Holy Lord or Holy Lady sounds far more solemn. I would expect these people to be more stately, stable and composed. Not you, really. You’re still a kid.”

“Eh?” Nero looked up, before gulping. “Holy Lord…that sounds cool.”

“Right? Three hundred years later, remember to call yourself Holy Lord Nero. While you’re at it, establish the position too. Don’t let teenagers like you grow up into cold, distant people,” said Schwarz. “Isn’t it too sad if they must suppress their emotions and thoughts at such a young age?”

Claud, who had recovered from his shock with Lily’s help, gave Schwarz the stink-eye as he tried to convince the kid to stay young. He didn’t know what kinds of benefits the bartender would obtain from doing so, but if he had to guess, it was probably related to securing a test subject for his deadly brews. After all, there was a young man with an abnormal tolerance for alcohol in front of him right now.

If the Black Church didn’t hurry up and reclaim their lost Holy Son, said Holy Son would soon become a Holy Drunkard, which would—

His thoughts stopped, and Claud looked at Nero. “Nero. Hey, Nero.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry! Is there anything you need?” the Holy Son asked with a small jerk.

“Yeah, there is. Just asking, but when is the Black Church going to fetch you home?” Claud asked. “You’ve been living with us for like two weeks. Shouldn’t there be someone contacting you already? I don’t think they’ll be letting someone as important as you, especially since you’re a tetra-folder, run around on a foreign continent.”

“Clarissa is dealing with it,” said Nero. “But isn’t the great Dark descending? I don’t think any cross-continental travel can occur.”

“The great Dark…” Claud gulped. It was the first time Nero had directly referred to it. As a Holy Son of the Black God, he probably knew a lot about what was t come. “What exactly is it?”

“A period of strife,” said Nero.

“We know that much,” Schwarz replied. “No, what we’re asking is—”

“The four of you are not tetra-folders yet,” said Nero. “If I tell you, the four of you will die on the spot. Please forgive me for not telling you.”

Claud twitched. The Holy Son had linked their number of mana circuits to their eligibility in learning about such information, which could only imply that…

“Why do we need to be tetra-folders?” Schwarz asked. “Is there something like…”

“Authority.”

Nero’s single word rattled Claud’s head, bouncing back and forth inside his skull. Alone, it shouldn’t have done anything, but it wasn’t just alone. The word had somehow linked up to the inferences his mind had automatically made, roiling and crushing everything in his—

[Your passive skill, Understanding, has activated.]

The agony, which had been in its nascent form, abruptly vanished, and Claud found himself completing the inferences, which had been on the verge of clearing up. His instincts kicked in at this very moment, and Claud continued to feign agony with the others, and the sounds of everyone else groaning lasted for five minutes or so.

Other than him, Risti was the first one to recover. Schwarz and Lily followed suit a second later, and Claud found it appropriate to join in too. The four of them gazed ruefully at Nero, who had an apologetic expression on his face.

The Holy Son of the Black God bowed his head. “I’m sorry. But you should understand what I mean by now. If I tell you even more confidential things, your head will literally explode. I don’t know why, nor do I know how, but that’s just things actually work. Be careful. Your authority is commensurate with your position on the hierarchy of life. Overstep your boundaries, and…”

“T-thanks, Nero.” Schwarz pulled out two small bottles, and then slid one to him. A refreshing orangey scent burst out as he opened the bottle in his hand and poured out the contents for everyone else. “This should alleviate the pain. Drink it.”

Claud took it without complaint, making use of the chance to glance at Lily, who had a pained look on her face. Everyone else also had the same agonised expression too, but for the first time, Claud didn’t know who to blame for this.

Downing half the cup, he passed the rest to Lily, who seemed a bit more affected by the whole ordeal. “Here. Take mine.”

“Don’t you need it?” Lily asked.

Uncomfortably aware of Risti and Schwarz’s gazes, Claud shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m stronger than you think. I’ve been through worse, after all.”

It was actually his passive skill, Understanding, at play, but he didn’t see the need to tell everyone else about it. He didn’t know how something like it was obtained, so telling other people about it could be a huge problem.

Claud rubbed his head as Lily took his cup. He had actually forgotten about his newly obtained passive skill due to all the fuss, but he hadn’t had the time to check on his other skills…and the last, oddly-named passive skill he had. He would do that later, if nothing else.

As that thought floated into his mind, a certain corner of his pocket twitched.