Chapter 309: Benefactor

Chapter 309 The Benefactor

Bart chose a restaurant and requested a private room. Cullen had stopped by the front desk to call Alfred, making him the last to enter; however, the seat directly facing the window had been left vacant for him by the other three.

This little circle had only just formed, rendering it pure—a manifestation of unadulterated hierarchy.

For these three individuals had all been elevated to their positions by Cullen.

The rather lively and confident Aisley spoke first. "We earned our spots from the same grand district. When the next round of final selections arrives, there is no telling whether the format will be the same as this time.

"And this selection test actually utilized teamwork. Though it wasn't the deciding factor, it certainly offered a measure of assistance during the process.

"I suppose that is the reason we took the initiative to sit here and have this meal together. My thought for the next round is that, provided it does not harm our own interests, we had best look out for one another.

"Additionally, if one realizes they might not make the cut, they can always do things that harm others without benefiting themselves."

Aisley was speaking of a very obvious matter: banding together.

Bart spoke up. "I agree."

Ventura placed a pebble on the table and said, "I agree as well."

Then, the gaze of all three fell upon Cullen.

Cullen's attitude was what they anticipated most, and it was the key to whether this alliance could succeed.

First, because even without prior confrontation, everyone tacitly acknowledged Cullen as the strongest.

Second, because Cullen had carried a dead weight to such a height, stopping only when that dead weight could no longer hold on, proving that this man was reliable.

A person willing to help his friends would naturally find more people willing to be his friend.

Cullen nodded and replied, "Of course."

Everyone smiled.

Aisley spoke. "Cullen, that person you were carrying, what is he to you? A good friend?"

"Yes, a good friend, though he withdrew at the end. He was not very willing to secure a rank in this manner, nor did he want to crowd out someone else's spot."

This matter required an explanation.

"That woman in fifth place, Philomena, does anyone know her?" Aisley inquired.

Bart shook his head. "Not from the Knights."

Ventura said, "I do not know many people."

Cullen also shook his head.

Aisley said, "I will have someone investigate her background when I return, though I feel we need not harbor too much expectation regarding her. She does not seem particularly easy to get along with."

In truth, another major reason Richard chose to withdraw was that when Philomena displayed that completely renewed state, Richard was unwilling to let Cullen wage war against such a mysterious and powerful opponent for his sake.

He wanted to withdraw, yet he did not wish to fail Cullen's assistance and sacrifice. It could only be said that Philomena's appearance granted him the perfect conditions for withdrawal.

"She is very strong," Cullen appraised.

On the mountain, she was the only one capable of speaking to him fluently.

"So, she disdains banding together," Aisley laughed. "At the end of the day, we are still a bit faint-hearted."

Bart shook his head. "I simply wanted to invite Cullen for tea."

Ventura smiled. "Same here."

"Oh, I know you all have your pride, but I prefer to focus on the practical. Right, it seems we have not formally introduced ourselves yet. I shall go first.

"Aisley Peyton. Intern breeder in the Grade A department of the Sacred Church's Beast Taming system. My parents are scholars there. Apologies, within our department circle, we generally do not use priest titles, because our academic atmosphere is quite thick."

Bart spoke up. "Our falcons, are they bred by you?"

"Those are bred by the Grade C department. We generally breed rare, near-extinct magical beasts. The departments further up have research topics dedicated to resurrecting extinct ferocious beasts.

"Let's put it this way: I am a rather cheerful person who likes making friends. As for you all, if anyone keeps a magical beast at home, you can come to me for help in looking after it. It might even enhance its lineage.

"Of course, ordinary pets work too. I can help improve their physical conditioning and elevate their intellect just a little bit."

Cullen could not help but think of the two in his own home.

The department Aisley belonged to was a specialized one. According to the conventions of the Church of Order, any department above Grade A in any system existed in a state of semi-isolation. They possessed their own circles and ecology, rarely contacting the outside world, making them difficult for outsiders to approach, let alone weave favors into.

"As for magical beasts, do they need to eat any special items?"

"There are specialized supplements for magical beasts. Do you need some, Cullen?"

"I do."

Under the premise of involving mutual interests, Cullen would often abandon propriety in favor of pragmatism.

"Give me your address, and I will have someone deliver them to you."

"Very well, I shall pay the coupons."

"No need for coupons. Accepting coupons is so tedious, and I do not lack for this small amount."

"Thank you."

Cullen recalled what Mr. Lemar had said before—that back then, the captain had given him far too many coupons, completely erasing the sentiment of the favor.

"No need for thanks. Actually, the best method would be for you to bring your magical beast over so I can inspect it personally. Yes, let my father or mother help check it over, and then see what conditions can be developed."

"No need to trouble you to that extent."

"Alright, no matter. What about you two?"

Bart responded, "The Knights possess a specialized breeding department and veterinarians."

"That is a subordinate unit of ours," Aisley stated.

"I know," Bart shrugged.

Ventura, while playing with the pebble, said, "My family does not keep pets."

"Then my introduction is complete." Aisley sat down. "Next."

Bart stood up and said, "Bart Cousins. Alternate Eagle Knight of the Third Knights. My parents are both mid-level officers."

Aisley asked, "And your grandfather?"

Bart frowned.

Aisley, very much familiar, said, "Under normal circumstances, the premise for parents having equal status is a very good family lineage to secure an equivalent marriage resource. Your grandfather's rank must be higher."

"My grandfather once served as the deputy commander of the Third Knights, but that was a very long time ago. When I was very young, my grandfather was transferred into the First Knights."

Upon hearing these words, Cullen stood up, Aisley stood up, and even Ventura, who had been playing with the pebble, stood up.

Everyone understood exactly what kind of existence the First Knights was. To be transferred into the First Knights meant that after one's death, one became part of the strength of the First Knights.

Bart looked at Aisley and said, "That is why I did not wish to make things so solemn. Everyone, please sit."

"My respects to your grandfather," Aisley said.

Bart continued, "The Knights and the other departments of the church belong to entirely different systems. We only accept directives from the Grand Priest and the Temple of Order. However, what I can do is this: if you yourselves, or any of your relatives and friends, wish to enter the Knights, I can arrange it. But the entry requirements for the Knights are very strict; one must pass the assessment on their own."

Having finished, Bart sat down.

Ventura spoke up. "Ventura Lan Manny. I live with my grandparents. My grandparents are both divine servants; they used to be clerks inside the educational affairs building, and both are now retired."

"Where are your parents?" Iceley asked.

Caron felt a wave of helplessness; this girl was truly the epitome of simple-minded.

The fact that he had started his introduction with his grandparents was explanation enough, yet she still insisted on prying.

"My parents passed away ten years ago, because..."

Ventura hesitated for a moment, his hand still brushing against the pebble as he continued, "...because of pollution."

"Were you polluted as well?" Iceley inquired.

"Yes."

"Impressive," Iceley said with a nod. "You have my respect."

Ventura offered a slight smile. "Actually, one just gets used to it."

Because Caron lived with Dorado and Dorine and had witnessed their daily lives, he understood just how heavy Ventura's words truly were.

Finally, it was Caron's turn.

Standing up, Caron began:

"Caron, an orphan.

I run a funeral parlor. If any of your relatives or friends ever have need of it, you can contact me."

The other three at the table fell into a sudden silence.

Caron sat back down, picked up the teapot, and refilled his own cup.

Iceley asked, "So, you fought your way up entirely on your own?"

Caron replied, "There were many opportunities, and I encountered many people who helped me along the way, but my background is indeed just that simple."

Bart clapped his hands once. "Well then, shall we order?"

The dishes were served promptly, and since all four were starving, they ate heartily.

After the meal, they bid each other farewell.

Bart and Iceley still needed to find friends from their own social circle; having arrived together, they would surely return together.

Alfred had already parked the car by the storefront, and upon seeing Caron emerge, he stepped forward to open the door.

Looking at Ventura, Caron asked, "How are you getting back?"

"I'll take a cab."

"Get in, I'll drive you home."

"Alright, thank you."

The youth did not display any awkward reluctance; he slipped into the car and gave Alfred his address.

Seated in the passenger side, Caron asked, "By the way, you haven't officially entered the service yet, have you?"

"No, I'm still attending the church school. It was the headmaster who recommended me for this selection."

Caron recalled that Little John also studied at a church school, currently boarding there for his primary education.

"What do you want to do after you finish?" Caron inquired. "I mean regarding your work assignment."

Ventura answered, "The Whip of Order."

This was much like many young boys wishing to become police officers when they grew up; setting aside the independent circle of the Knights, the Whip of Order did indeed fulfill most young people's fantasies of a career. Richard had originally used his family connections to get placed there precisely because of that same illusion.

"Then strive to secure a place in the final twelve. When the time comes, you can become a captain right upon graduation."

"I'm too young to be a captain," Ventura noted sensibly. "What about you? Are you planning to become a captain?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you are a certainty for the final twelve, because you are far stronger than the rest of us."

"That remains to be seen."

"If you do become a captain, may I join your team as a member?" Ventura asked.

"If you wouldn't feel slighted by it, I would of course welcome you."

"Splendid. I want to follow you."

Caron smiled out at the passing scenery outside the window; this youth was still quite innocent, belonging to what could best be described as the most gullible of ages.

He had likely been deeply impressed during the test, so at this moment, temporarily lacking in rationality, he felt the sudden impulse to pledge allegiance to an older brother figure.

Still, future matters could wait for the future.

If he truly were to assemble a squad later on and Ventura was still willing to join, he would certainly take him in.

For Ventura could no longer be described as merely talented; he had already realized his potential, making him an immediate asset in combat.

Furthermore, his strength likely did not lie in the soul; judging by the petrified state of his spirit, it was highly probable that his forte was close-quarters physical combat. In reality, such individuals were often incredibly useful.

In other words, an assessment focused on the soul like this one was actually his weak point.

Ventura's home was located in an apartment building. Alfred brought the car to a stop at the entrance, and two elderly figures sitting on a roadside bench immediately stood up. The old woman supported the old man as they walked over.

"Grandpa, Grandma!"

Ventura hopped out of the car and ran toward them.

"Master, it seems your relationship with them is quite good. In truth, your subordinate believes this sort of bond is actually the most reliable."

"I requested some tonics from someone. Once the items arrive, take them to Purr and Kevin to examine. If they are fit for consumption, let them have some."

"It probably won't do much for Purr, but it should be of significant help to Kevin," Alfred offered as a polite reminder.

Just then, Ventura's grandparents approached. The old gentleman appeared exceedingly frail; bending his back slightly, he spoke to Caron: "My Lord, we have prepared some pastries and tea upstairs. Won't you come up and have some?"

The old man had been a servant of the gods all his life, working within the administrative offices of the faith—essentially the lowest tier of church staff. He had thus formed a habit: upon seeing almost anyone from the Church of Order, he would address them as "My Lord."

Even though his grandson was now exceptionally brilliant, the boy had not yet graduated and held no official rank.

Caron intended to decline, but at that moment Ventura stepped closer and said, "Please, do us the honor."

The grandmother added from behind, "This is the very first friend our Ventura has ever brought home."

Caron hesitated for a brief second before finally nodding. "Then, I shall trouble you."

There was no helping it; one had to look three steps ahead. Since he intended to take their grandson as a subordinate in the future, it was best to establish a good relationship with his elders now.

Caron and Alfred stepped out of the vehicle and followed them upstairs.

Upon entering, they found the residence meticulously clean and tidy. The dining table was already set with pastries the grandmother had made by hand.

Throughout the encounter, the grandfather spoke continuously of his grandson, and Caron could discern that due to the "pollution," Ventura's disposition was somewhat solitary, or rather, profoundly shy. He usually had no friends, though fortunately his sheer excellence had earned him the appreciation of the headmaster.

The headmaster of a church school actually wielded considerable power, for he controlled one of the channels through which fresh blood was supplied to the holy faith.

The two elders deeply hoped their grandson could lead a normal life in the future, becoming decent and respected like those "Lords" of the church they so admired.

Caron accepted a piece of sponge cake and took a bite; it was soft, delicious, and tasted very fine indeed.

As he ate, Caron cast his eyes about the surroundings of the room, only to notice a frame hanging upon the living room wall, though that particular picture was entirely veiled by a black cloth.

Was it a memorial portrait of Ventura's parents?

The old grandfather, catching the direction of Karen’s gaze, spoke without delay: “That is the portrait of our benefactor.”

“A portrait?”

“Yes. Without him, our Ventura wouldn’t even exist. Years ago, both Ventura’s father and mother fell victim to the corruption. They were utterly beyond saving, and even the church hospital was powerless to treat them. Then that benefactor came to our door, saying he had a method he wanted to try. We agreed—there was no reason not to, for we knew full well that even if his treatment failed, things couldn’t possibly get any worse.”

“And in the end, it succeeded?”

“Indeed, it did. The benefactor managed to restrain the corruption within Ventura’s parents, granting them three final years of life, free from torment.”

So, after three years, they still passed away.

Yet Karen understood that this was already the finest possible outcome. It was not merely a three-year extension of life, but a life lived with dignity and quality.

“Back then, Ventura’s mother was already carrying him. As she was, she likely wouldn't have survived long enough to give birth. But thanks to the benefactor, they not only brought Ventura into the world, they lived to watch him walk and heard their son speak with their own ears. When they finally departed, they were at peace.

It is only our Ventura who has suffered for it; he was corrupted as well. Before she died, that was his mother’s deepest regret regarding her son. She felt she had wronged him, that he was born destined to suffer.”

“Grandfather, you are saying that again. I love my mother, I love my father, I love you all, and I love the life I have now,” Ventura interjected.

“To be sure, to be sure. Thanks to the benefactor’s arrangements, although Ventura has been corrupted since birth, he has been able to try and control it. He has endured great pain because of it, yes, but he did not perish in infancy from the spreading blight. Look at him now, he is still quite healthy, is he not?”

“Yes, he has a bright future ahead of him.”

“I hope you will guide and support him more in the days to come.”

“I will. By the way, who was this benefactor?”

“We never knew his name, only that he belonged to our Church. The benefactor’s own family had likely been infected as well; he was actually searching for and testing treatments in order to save his own kin. He made this perfectly clear to us, yet we remain immensely grateful to him. I can hardly imagine what would have become of this family of ours if he had never appeared.

Regrettably, we didn't manage to get a photograph of him back then, so we could only commission an artist to paint this portrait based on our descriptions.

Ventura, go tell the benefactor that you passed the regional selection. He would surely be very pleased.”

“Understood, Grandfather.”

Ventura walked over to the wall and gently pulled away the black cloth, revealing the portrait hidden beneath.

Depicted in the painting was an elderly man with silver-white hair, yet possessing a magnificent, imposing stature. His left hand held a vial of potion, his right hand grasped an empty sword hilt, and his face… was covered by a silver mask.

Karen froze in astonishment.

It was Dis!

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