Chapter 187 - Damn Reincarnation

The Cathedral

A stark white room, empty of everything.

Kristina knelt in its center. The room had neither windows nor lamps. Yet it was not dark. It was white because the walls themselves gave off that light.

The worship cavern, near the Spring of Light. Kristina was familiar with this room, but she was not comfortable in it. The day she received the Descent of Light, the day the light took root in her body, she had come to the Spring of Light for the first time and entered this room.

Ten years had passed since then. The room was familiar, but it remained uncomfortable. The softly glowing walls, the process of sitting in their midst to prepare for the sacrament. Sitting here, resisting nothing, and steeling her resolve.

It was all repetition.

Nothing changed. She had thought these same things ten years ago. Must I do this? Why? Is there any meaning in—no, there is meaning. But... is this right? Is this truly God's will?

Was this what it meant to be a saint?

"..."

She repeated those thoughts, agonized over them dozens, hundreds of times, but in the end, she stayed in this room. Her inability to accept it was as insignificant as a speck of dust compared to the sacrament.

That was what Kristina had been taught since childhood. That was how she had been raised. She had heard of the saint's role and learned the significance of a saint. It was not something she was permitted to doubt.

She had lived to become a saint.

Kristina Rogeris's life had been dedicated to that title. Everything she had endured for ten years was finally within reach. Hadn't even a Hero appeared in this era? His existence gave her life still greater value.

It would not be long now.

Kristina opened her eyes and looked down. She saw the dagger laid before her knees. Its blade had been honed as sharp as it could possibly be. She had already hesitated enough, braced herself enough, steeled her resolve enough.

She reached straight out and grasped its hilt. The chilling blade rose. Just as the room was familiar yet uncomfortable, so was the hilt nestled in her grip.

Her face was reflected in the polished blade. Visibly rigid. Lips set in a straight line without a trace of a smile. Dull, sunken eyes. That face was who Kristina truly was. Most of the time, she did not particularly want to smile.

'... Did you notice?'

He probably had. Kristina tilted the dagger slightly, hiding her reflection. She had felt it during the months they spent wandering together in Samar, and again during their brief train journey together.

["Is something wrong?"]

["You look strange."]

["It looks like you're really forcing yourself to smile."]

["You're going on about the saint and the Hero a lot more than you did a few months ago."]

In the tilted dagger, Kristina saw Eugene's face. A face full of impish mischief. A teasing smile that she could hardly imagine belonging to a Hero.

["I don't mind you feeling that way."]

His voice spread through her mind. The corners of her lips twisted into a smile.

["But I'd rather have a bond between two people than one between a saint and a Hero."]

["That's much deeper and stronger."]

"No."

Kristina murmured as she gazed down at the dagger. A bond between two people could not possibly be deeper and stronger than the bond between a saint and a Hero. She truly believed that. She could not help it.

Kristina Rogeris did not know what a bond between two people was. Every bond she had formed had been as a candidate for sainthood. She knew perfectly well that everyone around her was an actor in a play starring the saint candidate.

To her, bonds between people were flimsy, shallow, insignificant things. They had to be. She wanted them to be. She no longer saw Eugene's face in the dagger.

All that was reflected was herself, dressed in a snow-white shroud. Without hesitation, Kristina brought the dagger to her wrist.

To be reborn as a saint.

To forge a bond as Hero and saint.

Soon she would greet the future she had longed for and imagined for ten years.

With emotionless eyes, Kristina slit her wrist.

* * *

He had slept hugging the Holy Sword all night, but he had not dreamed. And so morning came.

"F*ck."

Eugene swore as he sat up in bed. This damned room got far too much sunlight. The rays streaming through the window stabbed painfully at his eyes. That was irritating enough, but the window did not even have curtains to block it out.

"It doesn't look like you had a pleasant dream."

Mer giggled from her chair beside the bed, where she was reading the scriptures. Eugene squinted at the substantial stack of pages she had read.

"Is it fun?"

"More than I expected. Hmm... if you think of it as a novel."

"More fun than the fairy tale Senya wrote?"

"... Don't try to sneakily test me like that. Whatever you say, Eugene, I don't believe Lady Senya wrote that fairy tale."

Eugene smacked his lips at Mer's indignant response. He shot a glare at the Holy Sword beside him. It had invaded his dreams without permission to show him the past, and this time it had even lit up all on its own to show him something. Yet now that he had given it every opportunity to show him whatever it wanted, it showed him nothing.

"Maybe I should just snap it in half."

"If you do that, the fanatics of Yuras will hunt you down and kill you."

Mer climbed down from her chair and narrowed her eyes, assuming a solemn expression. She clasped her hands before her chest in prayer.

"Shouting, 'Divine punishment!' I know you're strong, but wouldn't hundreds or thousands of fanatics ready to die as martyrs charging at you be frightening?"

"I don't know about frightening, but it would be a nuisance."

As he spoke, Eugene glanced toward the door. He could sense someone beyond it.

"They've been waiting there for about two hours."

"... Pointlessly diligent, aren't they?"

"To keep an eye on you, I'm sure."

Rensol was waiting outside. As soon as Eugene opened the door, he greeted him with a broad smile.

"Lord Eugene. Did you have a good night? What would you like to do about breakfast? I can bring it to your room if you wish, but why not dine in the dining hall?"

"Hmm... is there something different about eating there? The menu, perhaps...?"

"Not at all! The other clergy here are eager for any chance to welcome you..."

"... Me? I thought the ordinary clergy hadn't been told about me."

"Ah... you needn't worry about that. The others here understand that the famous Eugene of House Lionheart has come as a friend of Lady Kristina, the candidate for sainthood."

Rensol lowered his voice to a whisper.

"It is simply that the name 'Eugene Lionheart' is so famous. The younger clergy seem eager to meet you and speak with you about the gracious Light."

Of course. Eugene looked distinctly unimpressed. Those priests did not want to meet him because they genuinely wished to convert him. The cathedral's coffers and the clergy's pockets were filled by donations from believers and patrons. The Lionhearts were renowned throughout the continent, so they probably hoped to establish a reliable connection and collect generous donations.

"... I'll eat in my room. I don't have any particular reason to go out, so please just bring my meals on time."

"Ah... that is truly a shame. The sanctuary is exceptionally beautiful at noon, when the sun is at its brightest and highest..."

"And won't that beautiful sanctuary be packed with clergy and worshippers?"

Grumbling, Eugene looked out the window. Worshippers waiting to attend services were lined up outside the cathedral. He had not the slightest damn desire to get involved with other priests or believers.

So he simply shut himself in his room. He had several extra helpings of the meals Rensol brought him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Throughout his waking hours, he held the Holy Sword, concentrated, and tried to resonate with it.

But nothing happened. He could make the Holy Sword shine as he had before, but the girl's back he had seen yesterday did not appear. Again and again he made the Holy Sword shine, but nothing unusual happened.

So he slept. Hugging the Holy Sword, he slept soundly until morning. Perhaps because he had wished so desperately to dream... he did have a dream.

In his dream,

Eugene ran across fluffy clouds... He did not know why he was running. He did, however, know that the clouds beneath his feet were actually sweet cotton candy.

As he skipped merrily over the cotton candy... at some point, it became a lake of chocolate. In the middle of the lake was Mer, rowing a duck-shaped boat. With an oar in each hand, both covered in marshmallows, she crossed the chocolate lake. Then she tore off and ate the soaked marshmallows and rescued Eugene as he floundered in the chocolate.

Eugene! You've turned into chocolate!

"... What kind of dream was that?"

A nonsense dream.

Eugene stopped vigorously scratching his head and hurled the Holy Sword away. Its sharp blade sank deep into the floor, but that was none of his concern.

"You really do have an awful temper, Eugene."

Mer spoke from beside the bed, crunching on chocolate. Eugene spotted cotton-candy sticks and marshmallow wrappers beside her.

"... Is my cloak your storeroom?"

"It's more my home than a storeroom. What I keep in my home is up to me."

"Strictly speaking, you don't own the place. I'm the landlord, and you're the tenant. Though you don't pay rent."

"I do pay. My presence helps you in all sorts of ways, doesn't it? Imagine it, Eugene. What if I weren't by your side? You'd be terribly lonely and bored. Even now, I'm here keeping you company, aren't I?"

"... Hmm..."

Eugene could not deny that.

"So, Eugene. Did you not dream at all?"

"I did dream."

"About what?"

"Nonsense."

Grumbling, Eugene pulled the Holy Sword from the floor.

Two days shut away in his room. They had not been meaningless. Spending so much time holding the Holy Sword had allowed him to form a few hypotheses.

No matter how much he wished for it, nothing appeared in the light, nor did it interfere with his dreams. That left him no choice but to consider the sanctuary itself special. The pillars of light and the Holy Sword. What if something there had made the Holy Sword resonate?

He had spent two days testing it, so now he would have to investigate the sanctuary. As it happened, Cardinal Rogeris was away, and there were no inquisitors watching him.

'... The second day.'

He thought of Kristina.

She had said the ritual at the Spring of Light would last three days, so it would be over tomorrow. Eugene did not know what sort of ritual was being held there.

Something she had no choice but to do.

Wasn't that what the ritual at the spring was to Kristina? That was what Eugene thought.

If Kristina had said, 'I don't want to go,' Eugene would have made sure she did not go to the spring.

But Kristina had not said that. The ritual at the spring mattered, and she herself attached great significance to being a saint. In the end, she had gone to the Spring of Light. Desperately hiding the reluctance on her face, composed—trying to appear composed. That was how she had left him.

Eugene wanted to respect that decision. Kristina did not want his pity. What she wanted was to become an officially recognized saint and forge a bond with the Hero.

Saint and Hero... Eugene could neither put himself into such a relationship nor relate to it, but he knew how earnestly Kristina wished for it.

That was what he thought.

* * *

Night.

The worshippers who had filled the sanctuary until sunset had gone home, and the clergy had returned to their quarters. As midnight approached, the vast sanctuary fell silent, without a single person in it.

There were few dark places in this sanctuary. It did not matter. Eugene used concealment magic and suppressed his presence. Thus he slipped out of his room and entered the sanctuary.

He raised his head and looked at the pillars of light. Light poured from the glass in the walls and ceiling. He left the Holy Sword inside his cloak. If he needlessly drew it and it went wild, pouring out light on its own as it had the day before yesterday, things would become troublesome.

["Doesn't that hurt your eyes?"]

Mer asked, marveling at how Eugene could look directly at the pillar of light. She could not possibly stare straight at it. It was too bright to make out clearly, and she felt as though her eyes were being heated white and red.

'I can't see it clearly.'

Eugene's eyes could pierce even darkness. He could look directly at the sun on even the brightest day. Yet he could not see through that light. The more closely he tried to examine its center, the more his eyes ached and his vision wavered.

If he could not see clearly from a distance,

he simply had to get closer. Eugene leaped skyward from within the pillar of light. He intended to fly straight to the ceiling, but his body did not rise as lightly as he expected. The light pressed down on him as though it had weight.

'Oh, come on.'

Eugene gave a disbelieving laugh and stirred his mana. Slowly, he ascended against the light.

The ceiling was certainly high... but it hadn't been this high, had it? Realizing something along the way, Eugene looked down.

He could not see the floor. There was only light. Below seemed infinitely far down, and above infinitely far up. At some point... the light that had pressed down on his body began to draw him onward.

Was this what ascending to heaven felt like?

The thought suddenly occurred to him. The scriptures Sergio had given him contained many stories of saints who had ascended to join the Light. Perhaps Anise, too, had ascended that way and become an angel.

'... That's...'

The end of the light, which had seemed infinitely distant, was suddenly close. It was so bright that he could barely see, but Eugene narrowed his eyes and peered beyond it.

... He saw... a large rice bowl.

Three hundred years ago, while traveling with his companions, they had slept outdoors almost every night, foraging for food and cooking their own meals. They took turns cooking, and each had their own dishes.

Moron had the largest bowl, followed by Vermouth. Surprisingly, Vermouth had eaten quite a lot. Hamel's was the third largest.

Anise, however,

did not put food in her own bowl. She favored using that large bowl to hold holy water. Whenever they opened one of the large barrels of liquor they kept in reserve, Anise would be the first to rush over and scoop up drinks with it.

Anise called that rice bowl her chalice.

At the end of the light was a rice bowl—no, a chalice. Eugene stared blankly at the half-tilted vessel. It was cracked and chipped in places, but... there was no mistaking it. That was Anise's chalice. Light was pouring from it.

'... Why is that... No, more importantly.'

Eugene approached the chalice. It seemed obvious that forcibly pulling it free would cause an irreversible disaster. So instead of reaching for it, he drew Akasha from his cloak.

He intended to search for Anise immediately using Word magic. A faint light shone from Akasha's dragon heart. The unfolding Word magic connected to Anise's chalice.

A little more.

A little deeper.

A little closer.

The light swallowed his vision.

He saw a girl standing motionless in snow-white clothes.

Unlike last time, her back was not turned. Her age... a little over ten, at most? Long, flowing blond hair and blue eyes.

The smell of blood.

Little by little, the smell grew stronger. As it did, blood spread through the girl's clothes. Blood flowing from both wrists dripped onto the floor. And not just her wrists. Her ankles, calves, thighs, stomach, sides, chest... Bloody lines appeared across her entire body, spilling blood.

Yet her face remained composed. She stood there drenched in blood without so much as a grimace, as though she knew no pain.

The blood she shed pooled on the floor. Then it flowed like a river.

There was another girl.

She closely resembled the girl beside her, but there were a few differences.

The mole beneath her eye. And her expression. Bloody lines appeared one by one across her body, but she could not stand composed like the girl beside her. She bit her lip against the pain, squeezed her eyes shut, and finally, unable to endure it, began to shed tears. Her tears flowed with her blood.

The girl beside her did not look at the crying girl. The blood she shed flowed across the floor and pooled beneath the crying girl's feet. The crying girl's blood mingled with the pool. And then... then the blood flowed upward again, seeping into her wounds.

Eugene stared blankly at the sight. Of course, he recognized them. The girl wearing the composed expression was Anise, and the one crying beside her was Kristina.

What was this?

Just as he thought that and began to reach out, the distance between Anise and Kristina stretched immeasurably wide. Countless girls stood between them. These new girls did not resemble Anise as closely as Kristina did. But they, too, shed blood along the course of the river that began with Anise, and the river of blood they created flowed on to Kristina...

"Look closely, Hamel."

The girl—

Anise spoke.

She still had the form of a little girl. She did not spread wings as she had when she appeared as an angel. Instead, she raised a hand dripping blood and reached toward Eugene.

"At this abominable bond."

Anise.

The instant Eugene called her name—

BOOM!

The light exploded. The sanctuary's walls and ceiling, which had poured out pillars of light, shattered. Countless shards of glass rained down. In their midst, Eugene reached for the falling chalice.

The instant he seized it, a vivid memory was seared into his mind. This holy relic had traced Anise's lingering presence.

"..."

Eugene could not possibly understand what had appeared in his mind.

"Eugene?!"

"Dear God, what in the world...!"

The pillars of light that had displayed Trechia Cathedral's majesty for hundreds of years had shattered. Fragments of light and glass poured down together. At their center, Eugene stared blankly down at the chalice and Akasha.

He had seen it.

But he could not understand it. Objects imbued with souls. Holy relics. Among those, bodily remains were more precious than other relics; beyond being close to a saint, they were part of the saint.

Perhaps that was why it had appeared closer than when he had tested the necklace. It was hazy, but recognizable.

Trechia Cathedral.

The pillars of light.

The altar beneath them.

Through Anise's chalice, Akasha's Word magic had pointed to the holy relic beneath the altar.

The jawbone of a saint from four hundred years ago.

Why Anise's holy relic and Akasha's Word magic had pointed to that jawbone—

Eugene could not begin to guess.

He did not want to guess.