Chapter 88

There was no particular change in the incantation.

Quilbion slowly lowered his eyes. It was because the Saint had moved.

“I cannot see.”

The Saint released Quilbion’s hand and closed her eyes with both hands clasped together.

Quilbion withdrew the curse for now.

He couldn’t gauge whether the monster had awakened or was still asleep.

The Saint, who’d been muttering to herself with closed eyes, slowly lifted her eyelids.

Silver light lingered in her eyes.

“Aah.”

The High Priest knelt and bowed his head. Quilbion also lowered his upper body tactfully.

“I heard it, that person’s voice.”

“As expected.”

“Danger is coming. A darkness far too great is approaching.”

“Please show us the way.”

“A path of thorns, arduous and more arduous still, will begin. It’s the beginning of ascetic trials that the unprepared could never endure.”

“May Thorgan care for us with Sopim’s benevolence.”

What bullshit.

Quilbion prayed to the retired god for the farce to end quickly.

Was Sheryl coming to her senses and playing around, or was she fulfilling her duty as a saint?

The god’s word was a lie to begin with—whose voice had she even heard?

“Saint, please excuse myself for a moment.”

“Understood.”

The High Priest shuffled backward on his knees before slowly standing and leaving the prayer room.

The door that had opened with a heavy sound closed while fitting firmly together.

Only the two of them remained in the spacious prayer room.

What should he do now?

Quilbion had prepared three methods. Kicking with his foot, slapping her cheek, slitting her throat.

If he killed her, he might be trapped here forever, so first kick her……

“Um, excuse me.”

The Saint opened her mouth. It wasn’t the solemn, low-pitched voice from before.

“What do I do now? Huh? Huh?”

Frivolous and flighty. Not just her speech but her actions too. After watching the Saint move her hands restlessly, not knowing where to place them, for a while, he opened his mouth.

“Saint. What on earth is this……”

“Ah!”

The Saint approached while kneeling.

“I heard your name. Mr. Quilbion. Right?”

“Yes, well.”

“I knew it. You’re the person I’ve been waiting for.”

“Your waiting for me means……”

“You’re the person who’ll rescue me from this insane place!”

“Pardon?”

“God’s voice and whatnot—I don’t know any of that. One day those people suddenly came and said I was a saint, then locked me up here.”

What was this now?

It didn’t seem like the goblin was playing around. Like Sheryl had said before, the scent was faint.

His sixth sense also whispered that the woman before him wasn’t a ‘complete’ Sheryl.

This was maddening.

He played along for now.

“I see.”

“If I said no, they looked ready to kill me. Really! And whenever I say anything, they pressure me while going on about grace and revelations…… I hate it so much.”

“How about telling the truth as it is?”

The Saint thrust her face forward. Her eyes were bloodshot.

“Didn’t you hear me? They might kill me! Everyone here is insane. I don’t know about gods. I just wanted to live leisurely doing knitting……”

Quilbion clicked his tongue inwardly before moving his nark. He transmitted the incantation he’d created with all his strength to the Saint.

The chattering Saint gasped “Huk” and waved both hands in front of her.

“I can’t see! Excuse me! Excuse me!”

“Don’t you feel anything?”

“No! So please remove this. Mr. Quilbion made it, right? I know.”

Know?

Quilbion dispersed the curse. The Saint, who’d regained her vision, flinched while looking at Quilbion.

“What do you mean you know?”

“Well…… I don’t know god’s voice, but I know another voice.”

“Another voice?”

“Yes. It’s a really sweet voice. When I listen to it, I can endure any difficult situation. It’s thanks to that voice that I’ve endured in this madman’s den until now.”

“I see.”

It seemed he’d caught a clue.

“What did that voice say?”

“It said you’d come. That a human with the name Quilbion would come and commit fraud.”

“Aha.”

Was Sheryl whispering from outside consciousness?

“Didn’t that voice say anything else? Like a method to escape this world.”

“No. That was it. That Quilbion would come.”

“Ah, yes. I see.”

The Saint began reading the atmosphere.

Quilbion pondered. Looking at her state, kicking her wouldn’t seem to produce any change.

As expected, he’d have to drive her to the brink of death……

“I lied!”

The Saint shouted urgently.

“You lied to me?”

“Yes. The voice told me one more thing.”

“What was it?”

“……That you’d regret it if you killed me. St-strange, right? Such a thing won’t happen. Right? You won’t kill me, will you?”

Quilbion made a blank expression while pulling out the thin steel needle hidden at his waist.

Though it was a flexible steel needle, this much was enough to kill a person.

The Saint clamped her mouth shut and crawled backward.

“Come out. If you don’t, you’ll die. You might not be able to return.”

He thrust the steel needle between the Saint’s eyes while speaking. Just before the Saint screamed, he lightly struck her jaw upward with his hand.

The Saint made an “Uhk” sound while covering her face with both hands.

“Don’t scream. If they sense something outside and come in, we’ll die together.”

“Yes, yes.”

“But you. Just how stupid are you? You said the sweet voice told you. That a bastard named Quilbion would come.”

“Th-that’s right.”

“If that came true, you should have realized it wasn’t bullshit and been wary of me. You knew in advance you might die, right?”

“……Yes.”

“Then why?”

“Because it was the only method. If not you, there’s no way to leave here. But I don’t want to die either.”

Tears soon poured from her brimming eyes.

“Don’t cry. It’s disgusting.”

The Saint wiped her eyes while sniffling.

“Did I do something wrong to you?”

“Not now. You’re just a stupid woman. But what’s inside you is the problem.”

“Inside me?”

“Yeah. You’re raising a monster. A monster that would make someone like me look cute.”

The Saint made a blank expression while placing her hand near her chest.

“A monster? Inside me? Why?”

“Don’t ask for reasons. I don’t know either. I came all the way here to find a method, but the crazy bitch is absent. My head hurts so much.”

If he had the confidence he could return, he’d have slit the Saint’s throat without hesitation.

If he just vigorously drew the steel needle, he could easily sever a thin neck like that.

The problem was that if returning didn’t happen after the monster died, there was no way to do anything.

“When I was the coachman, I returned first, then you killed me. The shell, that is. And when I was apprentice Quilbion, I killed you first. After that, I returned safely.”

“Wh-what are you saying?”

“Shut up and listen. I’m organizing my thoughts.”

He retraced the return routine.

He drew in breath and held it until just before fainting.

“Excuse me? Are you okay?”

He raised his hand to stop the Saint making a fuss and exhaled.

It didn’t work. As expected, he couldn’t return to reality.

He stared blankly at the steel needle.

Sheryl had experienced two different forms of death—suicide and murder—yet persistently squeezed through the cracks and came to find him.

If he slit his throat right here and now, wouldn’t he be able to return comfortably?

He placed the steel needle against his throat before sighing.

Sheryl was a monster acknowledged by Winte.

A monster he couldn’t match in sorcery, body, or mind—not a single thing.

Because Sheryl survived, I can survive too?

It was far too complacent a thought.

Moreover, Sheryl had been able to come to the cracks through the medium called ‘Quilbion.’ The situation was different to begin with.

He wasn’t afraid of death.

Rather, it was an alluring choice.

But every time he thought of comfortable death, he recalled the woman who would be smiling foolishly on the gray sand.

So he had to postpone entering peaceful rest alone for later.

“Alright. Tell me everything without leaving anything out.”

“Huh?”

“What that voice said. There’s something you didn’t tell me, right?”

“N-no there isn’t.”

“I’ve already figured it out. You can’t lie to me.”

“……I felt like you’d abandon me if I told you everything, so I couldn’t say it.”

“Let’s each survive on our own. And this place isn’t bad. The food comes out well, and you receive people’s affection.”

“I said I hate that…… Mmph!”

He quickly gagged the Saint’s mouth at her rising voice.

“I hate stupidity the most. If you make noise here, both you and I are fucked. So speak quietly.”

“Okay.”

Quilbion looked behind him.

The firmly closed door would open eventually.

“About an hour is fine. After an hour passes, they’ll open it regardless of my will and check my safety.”

Quilbion tucked the steel needle into his waist.

“I won’t kill you. And I’ll cooperate, so tell me everything.”

“Really?”

“Do you have a choice?”

“……No. Okay. I’ll tell you. You really can’t kill or abandon me.”

The Saint glanced at the door before speaking.

“Another one came. A greedy friend who’s trying to capture you.”

“Another one, a friend.”

Quilbion grasped how the situation was unfolding.

One of ‘those things’ Winte had raised—a monster on par with Sheryl—had crawled into the crack.

As Sheryl had said before, ‘those things’ were connected, so had it approached the crack using Sheryl as a medium?

“Things that don’t help with life.”

He needed to round them all up and slaughter them—Quilbion swept up his hair while looking at the Saint.

“Is that it?”

“Yes. There really isn’t any more.”

Quilbion grasped the Saint’s shoulder and spoke.

“Another one came to find me. As promised, I told you first.”

The Saint made a bewildered expression.

Quilbion looked inward. The irritating thorn of the covenant embedded there. He’d hoped it might disappear, but it was intact.

“Loopholes don’t work, I guess.”

“What are you saying?”

“It’s like that.”

It was when Quilbion looked at the Saint.

“W-wait. I heard a very small sweet voice.”

“What did it say? What did that monster tell you?”

“It’s okay, to converse. They’re not a problem. What on earth does this mean?”

“You don’t need to know—tell the one inside. Just say okay for now.”

Looking at how she occasionally relayed words, she was awake but couldn’t come to the forefront.

Was what Sheryl needed time?

Or another trigger?

Wait.

Quilbion recalled when he’d been the coachman.

When he’d wandered experiencing memory confusion, he’d recovered by meeting Sheryl. Even as an apprentice, he’d waited in front of the station not understanding why, but understood everything once he faced Sheryl.

Meeting.

That might be the answer.

If he met another goblin that had squeezed into the crack, she’d be able to awaken.

“Good. There’s a method.”

“Huh?”

“Thanks.”

It was when he was about to leave the Saint behind. The Saint grabbed his pant leg.

“What, why?”

“The promise is different!”

“We have to survive on our own. You’re a monster. If you want to escape, just escape. Believe me, kill all these guys here. Then it’ll work.”

“Stop with the crazy talk. How can I kill people? Huh?”

You’ve already killed hundreds, thousands.

He tried to spit out the words but held back. What was before his eyes wasn’t Sheryl but a dim-witted woman anyway.

“I can’t go alone.”

They weren’t dull eyes. It was a face that had resolved something.

He’d tried to escape while leaving her behind when she couldn’t come to her senses, but it seemed he was already too late.

If one was a human capable of normal thinking, they could know who held the ‘upper hand.’

“I-if you abandon me and go, you’ll experience big trouble.”

Damn it.

Quilbion pulled at his hair while sitting down.

“Fine, no, it’s fine. Saint. Let’s cooperate. Amicably.”