Festival of the Dead (3)

-Long ago, there was a girl loved by all the gods in the Pantheon Temple. She was perfect in both martial arts and academics. Perfect looks. And a beautiful heart to match those looks – truly the one and only precious treasure in this world.

The <Wanderer> suddenly started telling an old story.

-It must be hard to deceive you. Yes, that’s right. It was me. Such a beautiful and pitiful girl! Just like an angel!

“Aren’t you a bit too old to call yourself a girl?”

-I’m eternally eighteen.

Did she hit her head when she died?

Or do all dead people act like this?

If not that, did her mind break after living for too long?

If she were human, she’d have some shame, but maybe being dead means she doesn’t have any.

-Oh my? Shouldn’t you be asking something by now? Whether I was really an angel, or if I was a Saintess when I was alive?

“…Your self-praise was so excessive it made all those things seem trivial.”

-Well, compared to my looks, everything else is trivial. But since it’s important, let’s address it. As you can see from my appearance, I was both a Saintess and an angel.

I don’t usually say things like this, but she’s truly insane.

-It was an era of war. A time when numerous demons were stirring up trouble to wage war against the gods. So many people died.

“Demons… plural?”

-Ah, perhaps you’d prefer if I called it Malice?

“Wasn’t demon referring to the first demon race?”

-That’s not the important part. We haven’t finished my introduction yet, have we?

“No…”

Malice. So beings like Belial weren’t alone?

Why didn’t I know this?

For her to speak like that, it must have been a war encompassing the entire continent.

How could such a massive event not be recorded in history books?

Even if it was before written history, it should have remained in some form of myth or legend.

-That girl… You’re not listening. This won’t do if we leave these questions hanging.

“Indeed not.”

-How shameless. Well, I’ll explain it simply. Lost. It’s because of what you do.

“That’s…”

Though heresy inquisitors’ role is to eliminate half-demons and demons, they also deal with those considered ‘heretics’ who worship evil gods.

No, in reality, this is closer to their original purpose.

Even without heresy inquisitors, the Temple’s battle priests and the Paladin Order’s paladins can handle demons and half-demons.

So erasing traces of evil gods is uniquely the work of heresy inquisitors.

Then what’s the root cause? Does evil god simply mean a god harmful to humans?

But given how Hecate specifically mentioned my work…

“Did the heresy inquisitors erase that entire history?”

-Correct. You all erased it. Over many years, you erased the very name of the race called demons. Though even back then, they were called demons more often than gods.

Erasing the names of gods labeled as heretical.

Knowing a name means someone might worship them.

It’s part of that process.

However, they made it so even the heresy inquisitors doing this work couldn’t know.

They degraded evil gods’ existence to demons. Though it’s my organization, they were thorough to a terrifying degree.

Moreover, if Malice isn’t simply an evil god’s apostle but an evil god itself, does that mean Belial, whom I must defeat, is also a god? Is it possible for humans to defeat such a being?

-Don’t think of gods as too special. They’re just beings who can do many things.

Blasphemy.

But if I don’t accept this, I can’t move forward.

In fact, it might not be impossible since so many evil gods hid their existence.

“Then…”

-Stop! That’s enough about that topic! Right now is my introduction time! Are you going to face me as a trial if you keep interrupting?

Hecate protested, rudely pounding the table with her palm.

“…Understood.”

To think she’d threaten me for such a petty reason. Still, given her scale, I had no choice but to keep quiet.

-So many people died with lingering regrets. Missing their families, hating their enemies, meeting such miserable deaths.

“…”

-Of course, the gods wouldn’t abandon such lambs. They were to be guided to heaven.

“Were you the person in charge of that duty?”

-You catch on quick. But since you interrupted me, that’s minus points.

I must not grow old like that.

-But you know. But you see. That’s too sad.

“Going to heaven? Is it not a good place?”

-No, having to depart to another world while carrying regrets.

“…”

-So I remained here. I defied the gods’ will.

Trial: <Wanderer>

I could understand why she was called a trial. Not just because she raises corpses by simply wandering around.

-They were people who wanted to live a little longer. People who wanted to see their family’s faces one last time, even if just once. They must have wanted revenge on those who made them that way.

Clink.

Hecate set down her teacup.

Her eyes, which had been pure white like the rest of her body, were now completely black without any whites remaining. The sight was eerie, as if filled with tears of blood.

-I am the shepherd who leads those with lingering regrets.

“…You are a trial. Your compassion makes people sick.”

-That’s right. Regrets are regrets because they’re carried to the end. Resolving everything means erasing a part of what makes someone human.

“Yet you’ll continue doing this?”

-As long as I exist.

“What a nasty trial you are.”

-Overcoming it is your task.

“Our task…”

Her wandering never ends.

Just as human malice never disappears, there can’t exist people who die without regrets.

A problem that must someday be solved yet can’t be solved.

“Even though overcoming it would mean no longer being human?”

To my question, the trial <Wanderer> smiled gently and said.

-That moment is precisely when one ceases to be human. Overcoming all trials means reaching nirvana.

That moment is when humans become gods.

-Rest comfortably here today. This is consideration from a host welcoming guests, not a trial.

“…Thank you for your consideration.”

“Wait.”

Just as my head was becoming complicated.

Titan, who had been keeping quiet all this time, suddenly joined the conversation.

“How strong are you?”

-You’re quite straightforward. It wouldn’t be good to leave regrets. You want to see my abilities, right?

“…Let’s leave.”

I don’t want to get involved in a fight between two madmen.

Still, since she said she’d treat us as guests for today, she probably won’t kill him. I’m not sure anymore.

There’s too much to think about.

*     *     *

After being settled in some inexplicable room within Necropolis.

“…”

Linea watched the undead wandering the streets through the window.

She could only tilt her head at the sight of undead behaving just like living humans.

There were those buying and selling ingredients, and others trading various daily necessities.

But that was all.

They don’t need to eat, and most daily necessities are unnecessary.

Since they’re already dead, such actions are mere imitation.

“Hmm…”

However, what Linea was focusing on wasn’t that. She could understand them acting like humans. They were human in life after all.

They must be acting exactly as they remember from when they were alive.

“As I thought.”

What she was watching were the ghosts and banshees also called wraiths.

No lines were visible on them. Thinking about it, that made sense.

No matter how much she swung her claws or daggers, she couldn’t cut something without form.

Of course, things would be different if she used mana.

“Now they’re visible again.”

Though Linea might not be quite an aura blade user, she could at least coat mana over a sword.

Isn’t she a noble? She received at least basic education. That includes methods of using mana for self-defense.

“Then…”

Though it was family policy, she was a prodigy who earned her medical license at a young age. With these pieces, someone of her ability should be able to complete the picture.

“…Maybe Lost was actually a ghost!”

Of course, no one said the completed picture had to be an accurate portrait.

Linea’s ears perked up, impressed by her own abstract deduction.

She had constructed a near-perfect hypothesis. Now all that remained was proving it.

Linea immediately pattered off toward Lost’s direction.

Her fox tail wagged frantically left and right with anticipation that her long-standing questions might finally be resolved.

“Lost!”

“Line… ah?”

Flinch!

Lost shuddered at the sight of Linea charging at him like a puppy finding its owner. It was because she was running with a dagger in hand.

‘What is this, telling me to commit suicide?’

But can you say such things with such an innocent expression?

In that moment of bewilderment.

Lost began to tense up as he watched Linea start coating her dagger with mana.

“Hmmm…”

Then Linea’s mana coating on the dagger disappeared, and her tail that had been wagging like a puppy and her perked-up ears drooped.

Even with mana coated on the dagger, she still couldn’t see any lines on Lost.

It was the moment her perfect hypothesis was proven wrong.

“Ah… This is for surgery.”

“…Right, for surgery. Indeed. It would certainly work for treating what ails this world.”

Linea’s face turned pale as she finally realized her fatal mistake. Of course, to Lost who already knew about her abilities, it was just a cute blunder…

“A-Actually, I was scared about staying in this city of the dead.”

Linea constructed a proper excuse at the fastest possible speed.

Lost could only nod at Linea’s desperate flailing.

“Where’s Claire, by the way? Wouldn’t it be better to stay with her?”

“Ah… She should be in her room.”

Lost mercifully provided an excuse to escape this situation.

Of course, Linea didn’t notice such consideration. She had kicked away the path of retreat he’d prepared.

Lost sighed and said.

“…Want to look around town?”

“Should we? I’m excited. What’s in Necropolis?”

“You really worry me.”

“Pardon?”

“No, I said I’m excited too.”

Lost felt bitter about Linea’s careless behavior, unable to even remember her own excuse.

It must be quite difficult to keep secrets.

Whether he should help her with that, or leave her be.

Lost found himself with an unexpected worry that wasn’t part of his plans.

*     *     *

“My body feels lighter…”

Claire Ryan had been free from the sensation of being weighed down ever since encountering the <Wanderer>.

How long had it been since her body felt this light? The journey she was forced to make with an already weak body.

Except during Lost’s lessons, she spent most of her time lying down. How much of a burden must she have been?

Even if she thought about revenge, she shouldn’t forget how much of a burden she’s being. She must never forget not just grudges, but gratitude as well.

Claire recalled the fight between Lost and Mez.

‘That was clearly…’

A desperate battle.

Strength to take care of oneself, was it?

She could understand painfully well why he said that.

That’s the kind of life he had lived.

And now he was carrying her burden too, so it was clear Lost wasn’t simply a bad person.

He didn’t kill Burke because he wanted to. He had to kill him.

She could understand this both intellectually and through observing Lost as a person.

“But.”

She knows. How could she not?

Claire isn’t stupid. She survived persecution despite her weak body.

She shouldn’t resent Lost. Burke was a traitor to humanity, and Lost is someone who must kill such traitors.

Those who can’t hold their heads high, who wish to be crucified upside down even on the day of their martyrdom because they lack honor.

Heresy inquisitors who bear the inverted cross.

Those who do what no one wants to do, what someone must do.

One shouldn’t spew hatred and resentment at such people without even trying to understand.

But. But still.

“Brother was my family.”

Claire was the only family Burke had left. Burke didn’t even have anyone he could call a friend.

She was all he had.

“If even I don’t mourn brother’s death, if I don’t resent the one who killed him…”

Claire clutched the hem of her skirt. Though she understood intellectually, emotionally it was impossible.

“Who in this world could possibly care for brother?”

Only her.

So she mourns. So she resents.

She might not seek revenge.

The other party was right. At least on the surface, that’s how it appeared.

But Claire must doubt their wrongs. That’s the only thing she can do for Burke.

Her brother who sacrificed so much to protect her. All she can do for such a brother is endlessly doubt and mourn.

“But here…”

Claire clenched and unclenched her fist.

Before, even tensing her muscles was painful. But since entering Necropolis, her body has been surprisingly light.

“It might be able to solve the problem.”

Claire dislikes Lost. Though she knows he’s not a bad person, how could she like someone who killed her family?

But it’s shameless.

Lost got a carriage larger than necessary for her weak self, and even prepared a separate space for her to lie down with plenty of soft blankets.

All of that was for her weak self.

How shameless would it be to hate someone like that? So at the very least, she needs to become healthy.

“…”

Claire recalled the angel who had enthusiastically welcomed them.

The trial, <Wanderer> Necropolis. The ruler of that city of death.

She might know. Why she feels fine now, and how she can become even better.

“I should meet her.”

Claire quietly got up from her bed and left the room.

The way to Hecate wasn’t particularly blocked off.

Who would dare plot against her in this city of immortals?

So when she knocked on the door where Hecate was and received permission to enter, carefully opening the door.

-Take that!

Thud!

A reddish-green lump of meat was thrown out the door.

-I won! You can take him. This perfectly establishes the hierarchy!

“…”

Claire looked at Titan, who had become an unconscious lump of meat, then quietly turned away.

Thanks to that, she could guess this wouldn’t be easy.