The waves of sound in the square were still surging, but Esper had already walked down the steps at the side of the platform.
The steps in the front faced countless people; every pair of eyes was like an open mouth, as if waiting to swallow her whole.
Behind the platform was a row of temporary tents set up for those involved in the ceremony to rest. The flap of the innermost tent was half-lifted; it was empty inside, save for a folding wooden table and two chairs.
Esper slipped inside, sat on a chair, and began to think.
A Rank Six going to fight a Rank Nine Demon King—the journey from Avalon to Abyss City was bound to be anything but peaceful. There would be magical beasts, bandits, scouts from various factions, and likely people who didn't want the Hero to reach her destination alive.
Against those of the same rank, she had confidence. But if they were any higher...
The tent flap was lifted from the outside, and Constantine squeezed his way in.
“I've been looking for you everywhere.”
“I'm exhausted.”
“I can tell.”
Constantine sat down in the chair opposite her.
“The investiture is over. Now, down to business.”
“The Hero's party?”
“As a companion, the Saintess doesn't count toward the official party limit, though you can include her if you wish. Also, Noelle from the Mage Tower has an uncertain schedule; she's supposedly busy with a highly important research project, which will take at least a few weeks.
So, if we count the Saintess, there are still two open slots left according to your requirements. Do you need me to help you find some candidates?”
“...No, there's no need.”
Having the Saintess in the party meant Esper was constantly at risk of being exposed by the holy light.
Even though the Saintess actively suppressed it, based on the output Mila had described, if she ever accidentally let it slip, she might just vaporize Esper on the spot.
As for other members... Esper was not prepared to share her true identity with anyone else. On top of that, the current pool of candidates consisted entirely of weirdos, while the rest simply lacked the necessary strength. Thus, Esper abandoned the idea of expanding her party for now.
...Perhaps she would find better options down the road.
“Do you have a growth plan?”
Constantine's eyebrows twitched.
“A growth plan?”
“A Rank Six going to fight the Demon King—don't you think that's absurd? Yes, I have the Holy Sword, but she is the Demon King. It's almost guaranteed she has other trump cards.”
“...Her Holiness spoke to me about this.”
Constantine fell silent for a couple of seconds.
“You know of the death marchers, right?”
“I've heard of them, but I've never actually encountered them, so I'm not very familiar.”
Esper said, resting a finger against her lip.
“The dead who return from hell, cursed by the Black Tide. While retaining distorted memories of their past lives, they also acquire power similar to an Authority.
Most of them lack the sanity required for normal communication, or hold vastly different values, making peaceful coexistence impossible. That is why they usually exist as enemies.”
“...But that is only one of the reasons.”
Constantine gritted his teeth.
“By killing those death marchers, one can seize the power of the Black Tide dwelling within them. Because of this, if you want to rapidly increase your strength, hunting death marchers... might be a good option.”
“...I see.”
Esper could sense the conflict within the man before her, which made her view him in a slightly better light.
“In that case, let's specifically target death marchers who have already been confirmed as wicked. The Church must have some intelligence on them, right?”
Constantine paused, then nodded.
“It was provided by Her Holiness. Rumor has it that traces of suspected death marchers have appeared in Hart Town on the western border. It's a small settlement that gained some fame for serving as the backdrop in the tales of the Blood Hunter.”
“The Blood Hunter...”
Esper repeated the name in her mind.
After the Ancestor of Blood, he was the second vampire to reach Rank Nine, and the wielder of the Authority of Blood. He served the Wild Hunt King near the end of the Era of Dragon Sovereignty, but later instigated a rebellion from within during the decisive battle between the "Wild Hunt" Vic and "Storm" Arthur, dealing a heavy blow to the Wild Hunt army.
...But that was all in the past now.
“In that region, a duke of mediocre talent governs a mundane town, leading a peaceful life.
One day, a knight who happened to stop by was executed, and his corpse was displayed in the center of town in a highly symbolic manner. Afterward, someone detected the aura of a death marcher on the body.”
“...Executed?”
Constantine nodded.
“More victims followed. The intervals between them vary, but every corpse has been hung somewhere in the town after four in the morning. Their organs were hollowed out, their heads severed, and the same words were carved nearby in blood:
【Retribution Is Due】”
“...Quite the sense of ritual, isn't it?”
Esper remarked.
“If you have no objections, you can set out tomorrow.”
“No carriage or anything? Am I supposed to walk there?”
Constantine scratched his cheek.
“Uh... well, it's not that far anyway...”
“That's not the reason, is it? Surely the Church isn't too broke to afford a carriage.”
“...Her Holiness said that the story of a Hero and a Saintess traveling on foot is highly romantic.”
“...”
Esper took a deep breath.
Calm down... calm down... It's not the first time you've been riled up by that little brat...
Constantine sighed, stood up, and turned to leave.
He paused at the entrance of the tent and glanced back.
“...Oh, by the way, the Saintess is waiting for you outside. She's been standing out there ever since the investiture ended.”
The flap fell shut. The clatter of silver armor faded away along the muddy path outside the tent.
...
The sunlight outside the tent was blindingly white.
Eladia stood at the side of the tent, leaning against a wooden pole supporting the canvas.
The sun was baking, but she wasn't sweating.
The holy light kept her body in peak condition at all times, while isolating her from everything that tried to interfere with her.
Her sky-blue eyes quietly stared at the canvas wall of the tent.
She rarely thought about anything, as there was usually no need.
Or rather... she was not allowed to.
But now, she was thinking—thinking about what had happened yesterday.
...
The City of Holy Radiance. The Pope's bedchamber.
It was early yesterday morning...
No, early this morning.
Wait, was it tomorrow?
—Time was always a blur in Eladia's memory, because the days in the City of Holy Radiance all looked exactly the same.
In a white, windowless room, she would wake up to the morning bell, pray to the statue of Beatrice, and then wait for that person to enter and raise the blade—
And then, tomorrow would arrive.
She had never counted the days. Whether it was the second day, the twentieth day, or the two-hundredth day made no difference. To her, the only things worth remembering were yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
There was no need to remember anything further back, and nothing further forward had any meaning.
Sometimes there would be events. She would be led out to meet all the believers.
She would listen to them cheer for her, weep for her, and thank her.
...She would endure their noise until she returned to her quarters, waiting for that person to enter once more.
...But over the past few days, there had been one early morning that was different.
Someone had come to fetch her, saying the Pope was waiting.
Eladia walked to the Pope's bedchamber.
Beatrice sat on the edge of the bed.
Her long silver hair was spread across the mattress, resembling a silver river flowing from her pillow to the foot of the bed.
She had removed her crown, and she wasn't wearing her white-gold Pope's robes. Instead, she wore only a thin, translucent silk nightgown that shimmered like water in the candlelight.
“Oh, my merciful, loving, selfless, and great Saintess Eladia~ Come, have a seat~”
Eladia walked over and sat down on the other end of the bed.
Beatrice tilted her head, looking at her.
“I have a job for you.”
“Mm...”
“The Hero has appeared. The Holy Sword chose a very interesting person. I want you to go with her.”
“Accompanying the Hero...?”
“Mhm. It's tradition for the Saintess to accompany the Hero. But there's one thing you must remember.”
The mischievous glint that always sparkled in her eyes dimmed slightly.
“If our dear Hero has any dangerous ideas that might harm the Church~ I'll have to ask you to take care of her~”
“...Me?”
“Uh-huh. Even though you've barely ever fought, if you're up against a pure-blooded vampire, a basic purification would be more than enough to kill them several times over, wouldn't it?”
If Esper were here, she would have realized one thing.
Beatrice had broken their covenant.
Yet, Beatrice wore a completely nonchalant expression.
Eladia sat in silence.
“Pure-blooded vampire...”
She murmured softly, as if in a daze.
Watching her reaction, Beatrice's lips curled into another smile.
“Ah, by the way, if you kill the Hero and return with proof of her treason, or something of the sort, you'll be allowed to leave this place.”
Eladia blinked.
“...I'm no longer needed...?”
“Thanks to the hard work and dedication of our great Saintess, our reserves of holy blood and holy communion are already enough to host the Holy Sacrament for several more years. Besides, I've actually found other girls with the 'holy blood' constitution.”
“...Oh.”
She was thinking.
Thinking of the windowless stone room known as the Saintess's bedchamber.
The bell at four in the morning every day.
The holy light emanating from the statue.
The sound of that door opening.
The sensation of a blade slicing through flesh.
The sight of blood spurting out.
And then, her body restoring itself to its original state, as if nothing had happened.
She thought about these things; they were the only things she could remember.
Further back were the smiles of the believers, expressions of gratitude that held absolutely no value.
Further back was a sky filled with fire, and flesh that had somehow turned into a pile of mush.
Further back was the bland food of the monastery, and the images of children her age pushing her into a well, throwing her into a river, and shoving her down the stairs, only to laugh as they watched her heal back to normal.
Nauseating things, matters far more disgusting than simple, monotonous pain.
Then, she tried to imagine what life would be like if she were no longer the Saintess.
“...”
Eladia fell into a long silence before Beatrice.
“Did you not hear me clearly?”
“I heard you...”
Eladia's voice was very quiet. So quiet it was almost inaudible.
“Then, you'll agree, won't you~”
“Yes...”
Because there was no reason to refuse.
...
Esper walked out, the midday sun beating down directly upon her pale face.
Her eyes squinted, only opening fully once they had adjusted to the glare.
She had long since ceased to fear sunlight, but it still annoyed her.
The Holy Sword floated out of the tent, hovering above her right shoulder.
Then, she saw Eladia.
The blue-haired Saintess stood by the side of the tent, her sky-blue eyes fixed on her.
“...Have you been standing here the whole time?”
Eladia gave a slight nod.
“The sun is so strong. Aren't you hot?”
“I am not...”
Her voice was very soft, carrying the awkward stiffness of someone unaccustomed to speaking.
There was still a distance of four feet between them.
“Let's go.”
Esper turned and walked toward the knight order's garrison. The sound of her leather boots stepping on the dirt was heavy and rhythmic.
Four feet behind her, the sound of bare feet stepping on the dirt was incredibly faint. Mingled with the whistling wind and the lingering voices from the distant square, she trailed silently behind like a blue shadow.
...
Eladia stared at Esper's back.
With just a single purification, she could kill this black-haired girl.
And then, she would gain her freedom.
She followed behind Esper, trying to imagine what freedom would look like, just as she had done before Beatrice.
The result was the same.
She couldn't imagine it.
Rate on N.U.
