Reincarnated User Manual

While Shiron was engaged in a conversation, as he had instructed, the rest of the group explored the corridors.

The first floor of the Grand Temple: was it merely a place for prayer and meetings? The space was adorned with awe-inspiring sacred paintings and works of art.

Heroes who carved their names into history, and those who dedicated their lives to erasing the shadows of the world—sacred paintings and sculptures honoring them made for fascinating sights.

‘This place is called the Grand Temple, but isn’t it basically a museum?’

Lucia crossed her arms, admiring the sacred paintings hanging on the walls.

The artworks spanned various eras—from before the founding of Lucerne, 2,000 years ago, to the present. Their numbers were estimated at approximately ten thousand pieces.

Lucia didn’t know what Shiron and the Holy King were discussing, but it probably wouldn’t take more than half a day. Even if she spent only one minute per piece, she could view just 1,440 of them. However, Lucia’s interest lay in only a tiny fraction of those 2,000 years.

‘Nicely done.’

A sacred painting, depicting the feats of Hero Kyrie from 500 years ago, was portrayed with a sophisticated artistic style.

Perhaps because of Kyrie’s remarkable achievement in defeating the formidable Demon God, Kyrie alone accounted for 101 pieces among the 10,000 displayed.

Such was the importance of the Hero to Lucerne as a nation—or rather, to humanity. It was only recently that the vast empire had started to catch its breath.

The overflow of monsters, endless civil wars, famine, and war—people believed the one to end all this misfortune could only be a Hero.

Having once been a Hero herself, Lucia knew that Heroes were far from omnipotent. Yet, she didn’t fault those who vaguely waited for a savior.

Lucia also understood the importance of hope—that things could get better.

‘That’s why they leave things like this behind.’

Lucia gazed at the image of Kyrie standing tall in the Black Desert and smiled faintly.

“Really?”

As she admired the exhibits with a wistful expression, a sigh-laced voice sounded from directly behind her.

Seira Romer—one of the few people who knew about Lucia’s past life.

“Don’t you feel embarrassed?”

“What for?”

“What else? Staring so intently at paintings that praise yourself and grinning about it.”

“…It’s not like that.”

“Not like that, huh? Then why’s your face turning red right now from guilt?”

Seira smirked down at Lucia, who huffed and turned her gaze away in defiance.

“What do you want me to do? Time doesn’t pass any faster. There are too many works, and too little time, so I have to prioritize!”

“So you admit it—you were grinning creepily at paintings that praise you.”

“…I wasn’t.”

“Then what?”

At Seira’s question, Lucia pursed her lips and averted her gaze.

To be honest, it was true that part of her motive for looking at the sacred paintings glorifying her achievements was to satisfy her desire for recognition.

But,

That only lasted for about an hour. Afterward, she believed her thoughts had taken a more philosophical turn.

“Well… you know, philosophical topics.”

Lucia shrugged casually with a sheepish smile.

“Like whether it’s better for a Hero to reveal their identity or not.”

“Hmm. Anything else?”

“If gods exist, why don’t they intervene directly and leave the mess to Heroes?”

“Go on.”

“…That’s it.”

But in the end, her voice trailed off into barely a whisper. Just as the conversation lulled, another presence approached from behind.

‘What? Why is my likeness here?’

Yoru, staring wide-eyed at the sacred painting of Kyrie, turned to Seira.

“Miss Seira. Doesn’t this woman look just like me?”

“Oh… Now that you mention it, she really does.”

“Right? I’m not the only one who thinks so, right?”

Yoru shuddered visibly, rubbing her arms as if to chase away goosebumps.

“Now that I think about it, there have been so many suspicious things. Ever since I was little, I felt like someone was tailing me, and I rarely had peaceful sleep.”

“Knock it off, you idiot.”

“I’m serious! I could never sleep well. The elder said it was because the energy of the heavens kept permeating my body, but now I’m thinking it’s because these guys were following me around and painting stuff like this!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would Lucerne waste effort on someone like you?”

Lucia shot a disdainful look at Yoru, who was still fixated on the painting. Yoru dropped her gaze, looking dejected.

“Well… wasn’t I at least somewhat notable? My wanted posters were all over the continent…”

“Nope. Maybe in the empire, but in Lucerne, you were just a petty criminal.”

“A petty criminal…?”

“Yeah. Even after openly walking around here, no one’s recognized you. That’s about the level of your fame.”

“Petty criminal…”

Hearing the cutting words, Yoru visibly deflated.

Lucia’s mood soured as well. She pouted while glancing at the stairs leading to the second floor.

‘Anyway.’

“When is Shiron coming back? It’s been six hours already.”

She focused her senses, wondering if something significant had happened, but the only presences upstairs were Shiron and the Holy Sovereign.

They weren’t moving aggressively, merely standing still facing each other. It wasn’t a fight, but she couldn’t help but be curious about what conversation was taking so long.

Click-clack, click-clack…

The sound of footsteps descending from the second floor broke Lucia’s train of thought.

She blinked and looked up. From above, Shiron was coming down the stairs, smiling brightly.

“Shiron, why are you so late?!”

“Were you waiting here the whole time?”

Seeing Lucia rush to meet him like an eager puppy, Shiron burst into laughter. His laugh was contagious, and Lucia found herself smiling, the shadows on her face vanishing as she grinned back.

“Everything’s done, right? Let’s hurry back to the Empire. I skipped both lunch and dinner—I’m starving.”

“Hmm… Lucia.”

Shiron’s face twisted into a hesitant expression as he looked at her excited demeanor.

“We’re not going back to the Empire.”

“What?”

“I’m heading to the Demon Realm.”

At his words, Lucia’s eyes widened. Heading to the Demon Realm now?

“What are you talking about? You said before we left that we’d return as soon as possible. Did that elf threaten you to go to the Demon Realm?”

Lucia cast a sullen glare at the Holy King, who had followed behind. Startled, the Holy King glanced nervously at Shiron for guidance.

“I… didn’t say anything of the sort.”

Since Shiron remained silent, his lack of denial was taken as agreement. Diego Rio Cali tried to calm himself as he recalled what had happened in the room earlier.

-What happened here must remain secret.

Even without Shiron emphasizing it, it was clear that what transpired in that room was not something to be carelessly spoken of.

The room had been covered in graffiti, symbols, and phrases. The Lord initially revealed them only to the Hero, but when the Hero expressed discontent, Diego was also granted the sight.

Even a non-believer could discern that what occurred was the result of something transcendent.

He remembered the moment from 500 years ago when he faced Hero Kyrie. Back then, Diego Rio Cali believed he had grown stronger, confident that he could maintain composure even before the Hero.

And yet, his instincts were utterly overwhelmed this time. Every time he recalled the moment, it felt like he was reduced to an ant crawling before the Hero’s boots.

“He didn’t force me. He even gave me plenty of holy relics to use.”

Shiron defended Diego before anyone could accuse him.

Though the two had spoken further after that, Diego’s condition had visibly deteriorated.

Of course, that didn’t mean Shiron looked down on or distrusted him. Diego wasn’t entirely ignorant of the world’s hidden truths, and Shiron simply observed the situation from a slightly higher vantage point.

“So then?”

Lucia’s anger subsided, replaced by worry for Shiron.

“So then, what? Like I said, I’m heading to the Demon Realm. I’m going to kill the Third Apostle.”

“…Alright.”

“If you want to return to the Empire, you can go with Seira. We’ll pass through Dawn Castle while crossing the mountains…”

“No, I’m coming with you.”

Lucia said firmly, then turned to glance behind her.

“But let’s send Yoru instead.”

“Me? Why me?”

Yoru looked at Shiron with a bewildered expression, but Shiron simply pulled out an envelope from his pocket in response.

“It’s a letter I prepared in advance. You’ll deliver it.”

“…”

“And if Siriel throws a tantrum and insists on following, make sure she stays behind.”

“I have to do that too?”

“Yes. Diego, could you arrange a ship and a page for this one? Oh, and tie them to Cardinal Deviale, that should do.”

“…Understood.”

Diego carefully noted the Hero’s earnest request. It wasn’t an order given out of arrogance but a reflection of the urgent situation.

‘Damn bastard. I asked for more revelations, and now it’s just radio silence.’

Several hours had passed since he first saw the graffiti, but no additional messages had appeared.

[You will die.]

[Don’t die.]

What was he supposed to do with that?

But one thing was clear—he now knew what had to be done.

‘It’d be nice if He’d just show His face once.’

Shiron was certain.

To resolve this frustration, he needed to go to the Demon Realm.