After thorough investigation and searching, to end up with a fool —it was maddening.
Antonio let out a deep sigh internally and steadied his resolve.
"For His Holiness… I must endure."
Unaware of Antonio's boiling anger, the captain continued rambling.
"So… so I made a brief stop at the Isle of Love. It wasn't just my decision! Every single crew member on board wanted to go. Truly! You're welcome to interrogate them all!"
Now he was even willing to throw his own crew under the bus.
Antonio took a deep breath, forcing himself to swallow his rage.
At some point, it seemed the highest positions in the Papal Palace had become infested with fools .
He had retreated from the world to avoid them—but after fifty years, the world he returned to was more rotten than ever.
Why, he wondered, were cockroaches so impossible to exterminate?
He had tried, belatedly, to correct it—but stagnant water always began to stink.
Through countless penances and lashes, he had gained enlightenment.
His body was still scarred from those long years of atonement. The wounds that remained bore silent witness to days of agony.
The pain of lashes embedded with thorns had cut not only through his flesh but deep into his soul.
Yet in that suffering, Antonio had gained a new vision—a way of seeing the world that had never been open to him before.
Antonio slowly closed his eyes, recalling the enlightenment he had gained in the past.
"This too is the will of Radiance. I am but Radiance's sword and whip—I need only move as Radiance's representative commands."
Once he surrendered himself to that belief and followed His Holiness's will, everything became simple.
"Yes, I am a sword. What does a sword need thoughts for? If ordered to strike, I strike. If ordered to be wielded, I am wielded."
By abandoning thought, he no longer had to concern himself with petty squabbles or weep tears of repentance under the moonlight.
And yet… perhaps he still had far to go.
After all, here he was, thinking again while listening to this fool speak.
Antonio calmed his heart with effort.
Even as he fought to steady himself, the captain continued rambling.
"Being the captain of a ship, sir, it's not easy work! You wouldn't understand! If you give the slaves even a moment's rest, they start getting ideas. And trying to nap onboard? The way the ship rocks—don't even get me started…"
One of Antonio's knights couldn't take it anymore and stepped in, snapping at the captain.
"Hey! Cut the nonsense and tell us what you saw that day! Who asked about your damn struggles?"
But the captain, undeterred and bleary-eyed, kept making excuses.
"Well, it's just that… all of this is connected, you see!"
Unable to endure another word, the knight cracked his whip.
The thick lash landed on the captain's fleshy back, and he let out a piercing squeal, flailing across the floor like a dying pig.
"GYEEEAAAACK! I'm dying! I'm dying! Father! I'm leaving this world! Save me, Father! Brother! Wife! Father-in-law!"
At this rate, he'd be wailing for his second cousins twice removed.
From the back of the ship, the crew and former slaves who had been watching the scene tried to stifle their laughter.
This same man had shown such cruelty when wielding the whip against them—yet now he was shrieking in madness from a single light strike on his back.
It was the most entertaining farce they'd ever seen. They would have paid to watch it again.
Eyes still closed, Antonio listened to the captain's ridiculous howls before finally opening them once more.
"He may not be fit to testify in court, but the ship's crew are also witnesses. This captain's idiocy too… must be part of Radiance's design."
Having arrived at a reasonable justification, Antonio made the sign of the cross and murmured,
"This too is the will of Radiance."
At his signal, the knight—who had been waiting eagerly for the order—happily kicked the captain off the ship.
The captain flailed desperately for a while, clinging to life, before disappearing into the sea with a final splash of foam.
Antonio, barely concealing his rising smirk, called out in a solemn voice,
"…Saint Hanna Island? That place is…"
Drake stopped himself before finishing the sentence: Isn't that the capital of the Holy Kingdom?
If it were that simple, his lord wouldn't have tasked him with searching for it.
Drake wracked his brain to its limits, and when he finally reached the conclusion, he was shocked.
"You're saying… the current capital of the Holy Kingdom isn't the real Saint Hanna Island?"
Michael gave a faint, knowing smile and nodded in silence.
He turned his eyes to the moonlight spilling through the windows of the captain's quarters and asked,
"Do you know how Radiance was born?"
Drake nodded at once.
He subconsciously gripped a quill lying on the desk, twirling it in his fingers to calm his nerves.
Without something to fidget with, the tension was unbearable.
"Everyone knows the story," he said. "He was born in a slum that society ignored, to a mother cursed with divine affliction."
Michael picked up the story where Drake left off.
"Three days after birth, his mother died. He was raised by the charity milk of women from the slums. Eventually, he realized he was the son of a god and began performing miracles. That is the origin of Radiance… correct?"
The sarcasm and disdain in his voice stunned Drake.
He had never seen his lord —so full of contempt.
Michael had always been polite, gracious, and warm. A man who welcomed everyone with a smile.
Staring out at the swaying sea beyond the window, Michael continued,
"But what if I told you that Radiance was actually a noble, born of royal blood, and had never once in his life bowed his head to another?"
Drake was speechless.
If that were true, then the teachings of the Holy Kingdom—founded by Radiance—were flawed from the very beginning.