Chapter 200 : Chapter 200
Chapter 200: Conatus (4)
It is a hallucination.
Stepping along, Abel thought.
The grains of sand brushing against his shoes scratched softly. The grass-scent fluttering inside his nostrils was fresh, and now and then a gentle breeze would blow over and brush past Abel's body. Softly, yet as though pressing him onward.
The Abel walking through the middle of the grassland was a little older. His muscles had grown sluggish, and his breath was rough. When he forced himself to brush his face, wrinkles came under his fingers, and so Abel laughed bitterly. He must be older, he must surely be, but for what reason did the present self feel more alive.
"Pull yourself together, Abel."
It was no more than a hallucination, but,
Why did the friend's voice feel so alive.
"What are you doing taking a damn nap. Everyone's gathered to receive your kid."
"Leon."
Abel opened his mouth.
He gazed at his friend with a faint smile.
He had only ever recalled Leon's figure burning along with the magic tower. For more than a thousand years. The face of his friend, not coated in burns, was beyond belief. Abel called out the name to be certain.
"You are Leon Baibars."
"Yes, yes. Of course I'm the damned Leon Baibars. Got a problem with that?"
"You've grown old."
"Same to you. It's been five years already. Since we subjugated the Demon King......, all that's left now is to keep growing old."
It is a hallucination.
Gazing straight ahead, Abel thought.
A cottage stood between dense thickets of grass. It looked as though someone had hewn the wood and built it themselves. Firewood was stacked in the yard, and an axe driven into a tree stump glinted in the sunlight.
"Are you happy."
Leon asked.
"Are you happy, Abel."
"I don't know."
"I'm fine. Because everything is over."
"What is it that has ended."
"We subjugated the Demon King, so it's all over."
"Is that so."
"By the way, what's with that way of speaking. After not seeing you for a few years you've become an old man. Cool it a little. The cheery you was a bit unsettling too, but the dispassionate-as-a-statue you makes me want to throw up."
What's the matter, then, and.
Leon raised the corners of his mouth and whispered.
"You nervous? Your kid is about to be born."
"Why is my child being born."
"Now you're really nervous, all sorts of strange questions. Why is your kid being born. Isn't that obvious. You got married, you started a family, that's why."
It is a hallucination.
Gazing at the door of the cottage, Abel thought.
Before long the door opened. A man and woman of familiar features showed themselves.
"──Hey, Daddy!"
The woman, Vanessa Bernstein, called out.
Raising one arm high.
"Where've you been? She's right in the middle of labor. The midwife's having a fit. Asking where the kid's father has run off to."
"How absurd."
The man, Maurice de Olfrange, clicked his tongue.
Arms folded, turning his head away.
"Surely he was off taking a nap. Your laziness never changes. Who would believe someone like you to be the Hero."
It is a hallucination.
Standing still in place, Abel thought.
Vanessa held up her thumb at Abel. Maurice averted his eyes from Abel and gave a snort.
Thump. Leon clapped Abel's back.
Hurry along. Ion is waiting for you. Leon whispered. With a teasing smile on his lips.
Step.
Shoes brushing across wooden floorboards, and,
It is a hallucination, it is a hallucination, it is a hallucination.
Standing facing the cottage door, Abel thought.
A faint sound of breathing came from beyond the door. The voice of a tired midwife also reached him. It's all right now. The baby is healthy. Truly? Truly all right? As question and answer wove slowly back and forth, it had reached Abel.
The cry of a baby.
"Ion."
It is a hallucination.
Abel thought as he stepped forward, and,
"......Ion."
What if it were not a hallucination.
He wondered as he pushed open the cottage door, and,
<Goo......, d......>
The ectoplasm opened its mouth.
With dark mucus held between its teeth.
In the middle of the shrine, Abel was standing absently. He had drawn his cherished sword, but showed no sign of moving. Watching Abel, the ectoplasm licked its lips. As its tongue brushed its lips, a magic circle holding faint radiance shone. Black magic was being cast, drawing on the magic circle inscribed on the ectoplasm's tongue.
<He seems to be having a good dream.>
Abel did not say anything further.
He seemed unable to hear the ectoplasm's voice.
The same went for the ectoplasm. It could not know what kind of dream Abel was having. Even so, it was self-evident. Black magic was rummaging through Abel's mind, and Abel was wandering through a dream, charmed by hallucination. He was smiling so softly, as though he had reached paradise.
<Go back......>
The ectoplasm waved its arm.
While dangling upside-down from the top of the shrine, the roof of the organism's mouth.
<Soon I shall eat thee.>
Abel obeyed the ectoplasm's words.
Blankly, he turned around and stepped forward.
<Chewing thy flesh, licking thy bones, swallowing thy soul......>
I shall make thee a part of myself.
The ectoplasm murmured.
<Make thee a single grain of soil that shall form a new land......>
A single handful of river water.
***
- A name for this place exists, but it is not marked.
There must be lands like that too. Lands the people outside know nothing of.
Lands too tucked away to be called by name. Right now I am staying in such a place.
Monica wrote in her journal.
Sprawled out on a sloped patch of grass.
The sun risen above the pit was hazy. Because volcanic ash bloomed even by day. That grass thrived in Conatus despite this had to be thanks to the spells. The villagers seemed to consider it a miracle, or grace.
- It's the fourth day since arriving in Conatus.
The villagers don't have any particular interest in us.
They only ask that we attend the prayer meetings held each day. After visiting the shrine of blood and flesh in the early morning, we may spend the rest of the time as we like. Professor Argento mostly explores the village, and Miss Iris talks with the villagers and gauges the local lay of the land.
Monica raised her upper body.
A voice came from a nearby field.
The villagers had been working a small patch of farmland. Yohan, having come running from far off, was distributing snacks to the villagers, and the villagers wiped away beads of sweat and began chewing on steamed potatoes and the like.
It looked peaceful. Aside from the surrounding scenery, the daily life of Conatus was utterly serene. With the villagers living on inside a pit set in remote land, the only thing that was eerie was the fact that, each day, they were offering up their souls little by little. And as long as the villagers did not perceive it, that could not become a problem.
- I......
Monica moved the fountain pen.
With the journal set across her thigh.
- am doing nothing.
Only writing in the journal.
Monica let out a sigh.
Fine. Let's say I'm the Hero.
Let's not say I'm the Hero, let's say I'm really the Hero.
The world is not one, our world has already perished once, and let's say people from some other world are helping me. Fine, all of it. Even so, what am I supposed to do.
Raising her head, Monica wondered.
When all I'm doing is writing in this journal with nothing to do.
"Miss Roberta!"
Then, a shadow fell over Monica.
It was Yohan's. Yohan had bent over Monica. With a basket full of steamed potatoes in his grip, he held one of them out toward her.
"Would you like one?"
"......I'm fine."
Monica shook her head.
She then closed her journal. Standing up straight, she looked at Yohan. That child must have been born here and grown up here. He must have never seen any land outside this one. Could he live outside the village. He looked like he'd die in no time.
"Anything I can help with?"
Brushing off the grass, Monica asked.
"I can handle farming tools, at least. I'm fairly sturdy, you know."
"It's all right!"
Yohan gave a bright smile.
"We have enough hands. Miss Roberta, you may rest as you please."
Because that is the god's will.
Yohan murmured.
"The god's will, is it......"
Monica shrugged.
Yohan, like the people of Conatus, believed the ectoplasm was an envoy of the god. That they followed a monstrosity formed from their own offered souls. It was eerie beyond measure.
"We're not the first outsiders to have arrived here. Right?"
"Right. It would have been about four years ago. Some travelers stopped by once."
"What became of them?"
"They left."
No, that couldn't be true.
Even thinking that, Monica did not say so.
"They suddenly left at dawn one day. The god guided them onto the right path, they say. It was a shame I couldn't see them off."
"......I see."
Monica nodded a few times.
They had probably died. That much she could tell.
What was more astonishing was that Yohan didn't know — that he could not know.
"Yohan."
And so Monica braced her knees.
Bending down, she met Yohan's eye level.
She wasn't accustomed to softening into a smile. Even so, Monica did her best to wear a kind expression.
"Is this village precious to you?"
"Of course!"
Yohan nodded.
"Because in this village, my parents are here, the villagers are here, and the god is here too."
"That's likely so."
A hometown is a precious thing.
Monica whispered.
"What if......, what if this village vanished?"
"Then I would vanish too."
Isn't that obvious?
Because this village is everything I have.
Hearing those words from Yohan, Monica,
"Right. There's no other way to feel about it. I lost my hometown too, you know."
Reached out and took the steamed potato Yohan was holding.
Chewing on the half-cooked potato, she murmured.
"It's good."
Did you steam this yourself?
.
.
.
"Everyone is here, I see."
Evening, the second floor of Conatus's village hall.
As Iris sat facing the table, meanwhile,
"There's something I'd like to say. Could you all gather here?"
Abel, having finished his scouting, stood beside Iris. He bore the trace of having been to the shrine. Monica, who had been lying on the bed, made her way over while watching Abel's expression. For some reason Abel's face looked dazed. As though just woken from sleep, or as though still dreaming.
"After exploring this place for several days, I've been able to confirm it."
Iris went on without minding.
While the magic circles inscribed on the walls flashed faintly,
"That this place's trade route is the inside of an organism. Congratulations, Monica. Your guess was correct."
Monica did not particularly answer.
She only scratched the back of her neck and lowered her head.
"It seems apostates visit this place at regular intervals. Or so the villagers say. Inside the shrine, they say prophets reveal themselves. Stating it dryly as fact, it must mean apostates come to deliver supplies."
Abel nodded once.
His mouth shut, shadows falling beneath his eyes.
"So......"
Clap.
Iris clapped her hands.
"Let us finish all of this before they arrive."
Finish all of it.
Abel and Monica grasped what Iris's words meant. Before the apostates arrived......
"We get the people of this village out, do away with the ectoplasm, and......"
Monica opened her mouth, and,
"We must play the part of survivors. Wearing the villagers' skins should do."
Abel went on.
"That's right."
Iris nodded.
After placing the cube-shaped, compressed 'Skin of Rainbow' on the table, she propped up her chin and wore a smile.
"Tomorrow night......"
We will assault this place.
While transporting the villagers to Cyurio,
We must do away with the village before the apostates arrive.
"Are you all ready, then?"
To that question from Iris,
"......Very well."
"For now, yes......"
Abel and Monica answered together.
The wraiths drifted across the night sky, moaning.