Chapter 198 : Chapter 198
Chapter 198: Conatus (2)
Yes. Without a doubt it was alive.
Eyes narrowed, Abel made the recognition.
The place the people of Conatus called a shrine. It was not a building. It meant the inside of an organism's body. Something that opened its maw wide and bared its teeth. The footsteps of the villagers heading inside were light. Without an inkling of fear they were stepping inside the body of a living thing.
<Is it a monster?>
<It is not.>
Monica asked, and Iris answered at once.
<I sense no reaction from a Core.>
<Then are you saying it's an animal?>
<It isn't that either, surely. Something that is neither beast nor monster. For now it would be best to understand it that way.>
Abel nodded once.
Iris's words were correct. The shrine was not a monster. Even so, neither was it an ordinary animal. There was no reaction from a Core, nor could the sound of a heartbeat be heard. In that case, the hypotheses Abel could draw out were countless.
If he were to enumerate one of them......
<Consider the possibility that it is a tail.>
<......A tail?>
Monica's gaze tilted toward Abel.
She seemed, at a glance, to be appalled. She also looked terrified. Abel shrugged and communicated.
<You must broaden your thinking, Monica. There is no reason every beast must have only one mouth. Some beasts might have a mouth at the head and at the tail. And there is no harm in tens or hundreds of such tails existing.>
<I agree. The body of this organism is probably buried beneath the ground. So we should consider every variable. What we are looking at is not the head but a tail. Or it could be an arm, or a leg. Or one branch of a tentacle.>
<So the two of you are saying......>
That this might not even be a head.
Wondering that, Monica groaned. The villagers were already stepping into the maw. If that was no more than a tail, how vast must the body be? If, by any chance, just by any chance, it really were a tail, and countless such tails existed......
<......It might also be a trade route.>
Monica tentatively communicated, and,
<It is.>
<That's right.>
Abel and Iris affirmed her at the same time.
The world outside the pit was no environment to traverse without armed force. So what about the possibility of using the underground? Through the existence of the shrine, Abel and Iris seemed to have arrived at their answer.
"Yohan, was it."
And so Abel opened his mouth.
He put a question to Yohan, who walked ahead of him.
"Are you not afraid."
"Of what?"
Yohan turned to look at Abel.
Holding the hands of a man and a woman who walked beside him.
The man and the woman seemed to be Yohan's parents.
"It looks like a living creature. The thing your villagers call a shrine, that is. To hold a prayer meeting inside the body of a living creature. It seems rather dangerous."
"I don't quite understand what you mean."
Yohan tilted his head, and,
"A shrine is the very flesh of the God of the coming Parousia. What else should one call a shrine. So please do not fear. Right now he is merely sleeping. Before long he will stir."
Yohan's father opened his mouth, and,
"I heard from Yohan. You're from a place that follows other gods. How do you pray there? You wouldn't pray inside buildings made of stacked bricks, would you? How barbaric."
Yohan's mother joined in.
Ahaha. As the three of them laughed in unison,
<They are accustomed to it.>
<Of course they would be. They've lived this way their whole lives.>
<......Do we really have to go in?>
Abel stepped into the shrine.
Soft, yielding flesh met his foot. A red tongue rolled out like carpet.
The sweet aroma of black magic, and along with it the stench rising up from an organism's innards. The two smells mingled and addled the inside of Abel's nostrils. Pulsing inner walls and dimly protruding blood vessels. The interior of the shrine took on a truly nauseating structure.
- May the God of the coming Parousia bestow His light.
- May the God of the coming Parousia bestow His light.
- May the God of the coming Parousia bestow His light.
The villagers bowed their heads to Abel.
Most of them were elderly. Counting Yohan, only three or four were children. With a population of around thirty, it was hard to maintain a community. Conatus was a village destined to vanish.
That hardly mattered. Abel observed the spot where the villagers had come to a stop. It seemed to be the entrance leading to the throat. A hardened sphincter sealed the gullet, and aged saliva had pooled to form a swamp, meanwhile,
- Awaiting the day the God of the coming Parousia shall stand twice upon this land.
- Eternal peace. Endless rest.
- We offer our blood and flesh, so let salvation be brought about, and let us be guided to the moment of the promise.
- Eternal peace. Endless rest.
- Here is your people. We have returned to the throne of the God of the coming Parousia, that we might pray together.
The villagers were already praying, and,
"Let us inquire."
Yohan murmured with both eyes closed.
Let us inquire, let us inquire, let us inquire, and. Realizing that outsiders had arrived, the villagers spoke in unison.
Abel did not listen. He had no leisure to direct his attention to dull prayer. Rather, he focused on the haloes of light. Haloes of light rose from the men and women, young and old, whispering with their eyes shut. Without need of saying so, they were portions of soul.
<Souls......, are being absorbed, aren't they?>
<That's right, Monica. Conatus is, in a sense, a kind of farm.>
Iris answered Monica's question.
It made them want to live, and gradually robbed them of soul.
Iris's words were correct. This place was closer to a livestock farm. Souls were eaten away little by little, and a settlement was provided so that they might be replenished. The villagers, not even knowing they were offering up their souls, repeated their prayers. Farms like this one had to exist in any number of places.
"O God of the coming Parousia."
O God, O God, O God, and.
The villagers' voices echoed, and,
"Outsiders have arrived at our settlement."
May we host them.
As the villagers asked together, meanwhile,
<......Foul.>
Abel saw it.
It would be more accurate to call it the uvula.
But that was insufficient. A lump of flesh dangling from the roof of the mouth. Abel glared at it. It was the part corresponding to a uvula, but it also looked like a person. The half-body of a person hanging upside-down and swaying. The villagers' souls were seeping into it.
<Ectoplasm.>
Abel communicated so.
The motive force of black magic, ectoplasm, had taken on the incomplete form of a human. With its lower body fused with the roof of the shrine, it had developed a reddish outer layer and was swaying on and on.
<That's ectoplasm? But every ectoplasm I've seen until now has been spherical in shape......>
<That, you might say, is its egg form.>
The exchange between Monica and Iris continued.
<Ectoplasm is composed of soul. The souls of divine-power bearers would be the best material. Now think on this, Monica. To compose a being requires body and soul. In that case, ectoplasm that has gathered countless souls into a pulp and assumed a form would also be......>
A shattered soul and a viscous body.
In effect possessing every element needed to compose a being.
Iris communicated so, and,
<That's correct.>
Abel nodded.
Most ectoplasm functioned only as a magic orb. Like an egg lacking ego.
Then what becomes of ectoplasm that has feasted on soul for tens of years, for hundreds of years, and hardened its form? When fragmented souls are mixed together, when an irreverently rippling sphere ripens, what becomes of it? Abel was looking at the answer, and,
<Goo......, d......>
The ectoplasm opened its mouth.
Its voice was the mingled voices of men and women, young and old.
<......Be one with them.>
Abel furrowed his brow.
What was it that drove the ringleaders of the Parousia Denomination, the former Cardinals, to covet the seat of God?
<Be one with those people......>
A young Saintess, an unidentifiable organism, ectoplasm crafted across vast time. Going over a few materials, Abel stroked the hilt of his cherished sword.
<Make their faith fill thy belly.>
Snicker.
It seemed to be smiling.
The ectoplasm of Conatus, gazing at Abel.
<Make their hearts brim with faith.>
***
<I think I'm going to throw up.>
Looking down at the table, Monica communicated.
There was no shortage of food on the table, but it looked as though crushed innards had been served up. It wasn't a problem with the food. It was because she had just visited the shrine. How can these people eat after seeing something like that. Looking around, Monica thought.
The first floor of the village hall — the people of Conatus were seated around the broad table. Gathering in one place to eat was, she'd been told, the village's custom. The villagers' boisterous voices stormed inside Monica's ears.
<Even so, eat up, Monica.>
Iris communicated politely.
<You can manage about ten bowls, surely? Until you finish, you may not get up. While on adventure it's hard to take in fresh ingredients. It's best to eat when you can.>
Iris was sitting across from Monica.
A pile of empty plates was stacked beside her. She seemed to have already polished off at least five servings, and the villagers were looking Iris over with astonished expressions. Disguised as an Eastern man, she only seemed like a young man with a hearty appetite, but for Monica, who knew Iris's true form, it could only stagger belief.
<So she's been eating like that with that distinguished face all this time......>
<I can hear you, Monica.>
<......My apologies.>
<What time is there for idle thought? With food right in front of you. Eat up.>
<Yes......>
Meanwhile, Abel was sitting next to Monica.
Steam was rising from the mushroom soup placed beside Abel. But there was no trace of him having eaten any. Monica stuffed vegetables into her mouth and looked at Abel, and,
"You aren't eating?"
Yohan, sitting across from Abel, parted his lips.
"Is the food not to your taste?"
"No."
I do not eat food, and.
Murmuring softly, Abel rose from his seat.
Just like that, Abel made his way toward the outside of the village hall. The wood-floor beams creaked beneath Abel's steps, and as the villagers looked Abel over with puzzled expressions,
<Monica.>
Iris communicated.
Toward Monica, who had been watching Abel's retreating back.
<You needn't pay Abel any mind. He's only moving to scout the surroundings.>
"By the way, Roberta, you......"
Two voices reached Monica at the same time.
In Monica's mind, Iris's voice; in Monica's ears, Nizam's voice.
"Wouldn't it be better to think it through for yourself."
<About the people of this village.>
Monica quietly stared at Iris.
Iris twisted Nizam's face into a smile, and communicated in a tone without humor.
<How are we to save the people of this village.>
I see. So that's what I should be thinking about.
Lips pursed, Monica thought.
Even though the thoughts she held in her mind were reaching Iris.
<It is something you ought to weigh.>
So that's how it is. So that's how it has to be.
<Because you are the Hero of Epezeria.>
Because I am the Hero, that's how it has to be.
Monica softly nodded her head.
With neither sense of mission nor resolve yet firm.