Chapter 199 : Chapter 199
Chapter 199: Conatus (3)
'Cramped.'
Abel lowered his head.
He had been seated atop a knoll in Conatus. Knoll though it was, in the end it was still underground. The night view of the village built within the pit was forbidding. Because the villagers were gathered at the village hall, the area was deserted, and torches flickered along the cramped stone paths.
To scout the surroundings, now was the time.
<God of Oblivion, Forgotten Scenery.>
Darkness fell across Abel's eyes.
Before long, the direction of the wind, the components of scent, the interior of buildings and the like flooded into his sight. The result of casting 'A Map Woven with a Wanderer's Steps.'
The presence of one person was caught from outside the village hall. It was the villager stationed in the watchtower. The stairs leading down into the pit, the village entrance built beyond them, and finally the forest where the shrine was located. Abel grasped the directions the villager in the watchtower was guarding, and,
'I can't be away from my post for too long.'
He gently closed his eyes.
After dispelling 'A Map Woven with a Wanderer's Steps,' he rose to his feet and came to a stop at the knoll's edge. Abel then raised his head to look at the sky above Conatus.
As cold winds drifted through the gaps between the ridges,
'......What a sight.'
Ohhhhhh──.
The aged groaning of moans was ringing out.
From the air. From the wraiths gliding through the air.
It sounded like the sound of nature, not of voices. For that matter, the bodies of those wraiths must have been buried in volcanic ash along with the Vianchiel Kingdom. Long since rotted, they would have melted into nature. The same went for the souls. Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands. Countless wraiths had clumped together and were storming about as a black tide. Like a current. Like some kind of natural phenomenon.
'Indeed.'
Tap.
Abel sprang lightly into a run.
'The dead......'
No sound of footsteps came.
Abel's silhouette melted into the scenery.
'......Without exception, must turn toward the empty air.'
***
'It's unsettling.'
Gazing out the window, Monica thought.
The night sky was black. No, the night sky could not be seen. Wandering wraiths dominated the air. If an aurora storms across the sky in the form of a curtain of light, then the swarm of wraiths blocked even the moonlight in the form of a curtain of darkness.
"It's unsettling......"
Meanwhile, Iris's voice reached Monica's ear.
Monica turned to look back. They had just stepped into their lodgings after finishing dinner.
"That's what you were thinking, weren't you?"
Iris was peeling off Nizam's skin. The skin coming away like a husk was compressed into a small cube. The magic circle inscribed on the cube's surface began to give off radiance.
A magitech weapon under experiment by the Imperial Secret Service, was it? Tugging at her own cheek — at the skin covering her cheek — Monica thought. The magic circle inscribed on the cube's surface. A magitech weapon that changed one's appearance to that of whoever's blood had soaked into it — called, she had heard, the 'Skin of Rainbow.'
"Was I right, Monica?"
"......Right on the mark."
The communication spell hasn't been dispelled, then.
You see right through me......
Murmuring so, Monica revealed her true form. Wearing another's skin all day was suffocating. Above all, being called by Roberta's name was not something she had grown used to.
"The communication spell has been dispelled. But seeing through your inner thoughts is easy enough."
Iris sat facing the table.
Tap, tap. She drummed her thigh and wore a smile.
"Won't you sit with me a moment? You may sit across from me, but if you'd sit on my lap, that would be even better."
"I'll sit across from you."
"Oh dear, you're short on charm."
Monica took the seat across from Iris. Crossing her legs, she silently gazed at Iris.
'Back when I knew her as a Duke she looked a bit dignified, but......'
This person is just as much of a madman as Professor Argento.
Thinking that, Monica pursed her lips.
If Abel was a madman who had become unable to eat, then Iris was a madman blinded by appetite. She had downed the equivalent of ten people's portions in a single meal. Was she planning to bring Conatus down by exhausting its food supply.
"About the communication spell."
Monica narrowed her eyes.
"It's really been dispelled?"
"Of course."
Iris shrugged.
"But I told you, didn't I? Your inner thoughts are plain as day. You're marveling at my appetite, surely. And also......"
Iris's gaze narrowed.
A glint of laughter seeped into her light-red eyes.
"How are we to save the people of Conatus. These people don't seem to want salvation, particularly."
That's what you've been thinking for a while now.
Am I right?
Iris asked, and,
"......I won't deny it."
Monica nodded once.
That the people of Conatus were being exploited was self-evident. They were prey who didn't know they were prey. Just as livestock raised to be food come to feel affection toward their master, they were holding faith without knowing they were soon to be eaten.
'Do these people need help.'
Likely so. That much at least was clear. One must not be charmed by the warm everyday lives of the villagers. Those people must not laugh, must not be happy. With their souls being robbed, they would die before long. So they must be made to feel rage, and grief, in equal measure. They had to be made that way.
That was the means by which to save them.
"They will have to face the truth. I know. That would be better. Even if it's hard. To carry hollow faith only destroys one's life. Like the people praying in the sewers of Cyurio. But for me......"
Do they want to be made to despair.
Surely not, and whether they wish to know the truth, or wish to remain in the lie even if they know — even that is unclear,
"No, for us......"
Do we have the right to plunge them into despair?
Monica asked. Because if they were plunged into despair, no other way of taking responsibility came to her mind.
"No one possesses such a right. Not even a god."
Iris answered readily.
"We do not seek to save them by virtue of right. Even if one becomes a Saintess, even if one becomes a Hero, the right to save another without responsibility does not arise. That is why most salvations are imperfect. The Demon King has been subjugated, so peace has come......, that is no more than a sentence to close out a fairy tale."
Portsmouth, and.
Iris murmured with her chin propped on her hand.
"I read the report on what unfolded there. Abel did try to take responsibility to the extent that he could. For his students, including yourself, of course, and for the people of Portsmouth too."
Very clumsily.
In a position where he could only be clumsy.
Iris whispered, and,
'......It was a mess.'
Recalling that time, Monica thought.
Faith directed at a monster, a defiled Spirit's Nest, a tradition where human sacrifices ran rampant. Even Abel's expression as he laid all of it bare was, without exception, a mess.
It could only have been a mess.
Even someone like Abel could only thrash about while bearing responsibility. Even a Hero who has taken hold of the Holy Sword would be no different. A complete and beautiful salvation cannot be brought about. There is no such process. Only now did Monica feel it as real.
"You must firm up your faith."
Iris held out her palm.
"Because we cannot be perfect, we must hold faith at the very least."
"I......"
Monica too held out her hand.
She placed her prosthetic on Iris's palm.
"......Don't really hold faith well."
I can't even use divine magic, you know.
Even though I'm a student of the Department of Divinity.
Monica murmured, and,
"You're wrong, Monica."
Iris wrapped her hands around Monica's prosthetic.
Before long, a halo of light arose. A halo of light spreading within Iris's grasp. It was, without need of saying, the result of divine power being made manifest.
"You only do not know the direction of your faith. There is no person in this world who lives without faith. Most people in Epezeria believe in gods, but......"
People of other worlds believe not in gods but in ideologies,
And sometimes, without rhyme or reason, they believe in themselves.
There are those, too, who believe in misfortune.
"So, Monica, think about it now."
Close your eyes and pray, and.
Iris whispered with a faint smile on her lips.
"You needn't picture the Pantheon. Not all prayer must go there. Apostates make people pray to themselves, after all."
What about you?
Where would you like your prayer to be directed?
"You yourself must choose."
"I......"
Monica hesitated for a moment, then before long, closed her eyes.
She had practiced the ordering of prayer many times. Casting spells was impossible, but she had succeeded at making divine power spread as a halo of light. And so a halo of light spread from Monica's prosthetic. Monica's faint divine power began to mingle with Iris's, and,
"A land that is no longer in this world, and people who are no longer in this world......"
Monica carefully opened her mouth.
A vanished hometown, vanished people. If she could choose the direction of prayer, those were where she would have it pointed. Some place-name, some person's name, must lie further out than the Pantheon. And to that place too, prayer ought to reach.
"I would like the prayer to reach there."
"Then picture them now."
Monica did as Iris said.
She pictured the scenery of Sarrifis. It must have vanished from this world, surely, but she could draw it out more clearly than the Pantheon of the Five Main Gods.
It was no different for the faces of the vanished people. They must have vanished from this world, surely, but she could draw them out more radiantly than the statues of the Five Main Gods.
"And chant together with me."
Ahem, and.
Iris cleared her throat, then,
"Mother God's Sight."
<Mother God's Sight......>
She chanted along with Monica.
"Open in the cleft of the earth."
<......Open in the cleft of the earth.>
Monica's eyes flew wide.
A sensation she could not name stirred within her body.
It resembled the procedure of activating aura. The feeling of something that had been flowing within her body pouring out beyond it. Startled, she fixed her gaze straight ahead.
"This time I helped you. But......"
Iris was wearing a smile, and,
"You'll soon be able to do it on your own."
The spell was activating.
The second chapter of the Mother God Theory, 'Eye of the Earth.'
A spell with the effect of probing the surroundings. As a circular sphere rose before Monica's eyes, Abel's figure was being projected within it. At a glance he seemed to be searching through various parts of Conatus.
"A Hero is one who believes not in the Main Gods, but in the world itself."
Monica blankly looked at Iris.
"Whenever I have the chance, I'll teach you divine magic."
Iris nodded.
Then, in a tone of warmth, she went on.
"So that your faith may be properly wielded."
Monica's gaze returned to the surface of the sphere.
Abel seemed to be stepping into the shrine, and,
"......Thank you."
Monica murmured in a quiet voice.
Whoosh. 'Eye of the Earth' was dispelled. The sphere flickered out, and Abel's figure too vanished.
The wails of the wraiths were all that swept past beyond the window.
.
.
.
<God of War, Lantern.>
Abel recited the chant.
But it was in vain. 'Lantern of the Battlefield' did not activate.
He had just stepped into the shrine. Unlike during the day, a firm darkness was spread before Abel's eyes. He could only walk by following the residue of black magic; he could not make out the interior of the shrine.
'Black magic is being cast?'
Abel thought as he stepped forward.
If it were black magic potent enough to seal divine magic, then surely it meant a high-tier spell was in operation. Was the ectoplasm formed within the shrine moving? Abel gripped the hilt of his cherished sword.
'Very well, then.'
Scrape.
The blade of the cherished sword protruding from the scabbard.
'I had been wanting to gauge its power.'
Before long, light came into view.
It was a very small light. A beam of light seemed to be filtering in from somewhere far off. As though the exit of a cave were standing out.
Without doubt it was a trap. There could be no exit in this place. He was only heading deeper into the body of an organism. But I'll take the bait. I'm curious what is being prepared for me. Just as Abel was thinking that and reaching the light,
"──Heyy."
Suddenly, a voice reached the inside of Abel's ears.
A young man's drawling voice came to Abel, and,
"How long do you plan on sprawling out asleep?"
Abel opened his eyes.
He should have been gazing straight ahead, but at some point his eyes had been closed.
He had been walking, but he was lying down. Every side should have been dark, but at some point it was bright. He should have been wandering inside an organism's body, but at some point a vast grassland was unfurling before Abel's eyes.
"Hurry up and get up, Abel."
No one should have been beside him,
But some young man was looking down at Abel.
With a sly smile playing on his lips.
"It's looking like it'll be born soon. Your child, I mean."
Abel raised his upper body.
Stalks of the grass that made up the field were stuck all over Abel's body.
After brushing them off, he looked around. Before long he opened his mouth toward the man.
"Leon......"
The sky was clear, the earth was green.
With every direction at peace, meanwhile,
"......Leon Baibars."
Abel called the name.
The name of a friend who had, without doubt, died.
"You're......"
You're Leon Baibars, and.