Chapter 189 - Damn Reincarnation

Spring of Light

Eugene slowly straightened his bent back. His throbbing headache was fading, but his eyes still ached. If he could, he would have plucked them out whole and washed them in water.

"... Quite a crowd."

Eugene raised his head and muttered. He could sense roughly two hundred presences stirring in the distance. There was no need to think long about who they were. Holy knights and inquisitors. They had noticed the warp gate connecting when it should have remained disconnected, and Eugene coming through.

They were approaching fast. Eugene did not want an unnecessary clash right from the outset. But they would not respect that wish. They might not attack on sight, but they would certainly spout irritating nonsense and try to send him back.

'... Where am I?'

He knew he was somewhere in the mountains, but not exactly where. In truth, that hardly mattered. Holy knights and inquisitors were nearby. The Spring of Light was somewhere here. The vision projected through the chalice and jawbone... That old temple. He looked around, but could see no such temple.

It was obvious enough. Since the public knew nothing of the Spring of Light, the temple itself must be hidden.

Eugene raised Akasha in his hand.

He could see magic woven throughout the space around him. Most of it was divine magic, however, which even Akasha could not decipher. This was a complex barrier combining two kinds of magic: ordinary magic and divine magic. Breaking through with ordinary magic alone would be difficult.

Then why not just destroy it? It was an utterly crude approach, but Eugene did not deliberate long.

He had brought down Trechia Cathedral's pillars of light and taken the chalice and jawbone. He had connected a closed warp gate and arrived in what was clearly forbidden ground. He had already crossed several lines that should never have been crossed, and gone far beyond them. At this point, there was no reason to hesitate simply because his method was crude.

"... What?"

He had intended to draw the Moonlight Sword.

But the hilt that slipped into his hand inside the cloak did not belong to the Moonlight Sword. It was the Holy Sword, Altair. It had moved of its own accord and placed itself in Eugene's hand. His eyes narrowed.

"You showed me nothing when I wanted it so badly. What are you trying to do now?"

Who was moving this Holy Sword? The God of Light? If that was the case...

Eugene wanted to smash Altair. He did not want to care how valuable it was or what it symbolized. He disliked it. So he wanted to shatter it.

The things Anise's chalice and the saint's jawbone had shown him.

A river of blood that had begun flowing in some unknowably distant past. Anise's expressionless face, and Kristina crying. The countless other girls who must have existed. Figures so faint that even their faces were invisible.

An abominable bond.

"... God?"

Grinding his teeth, Eugene drew the Holy Sword. He intended to slam it into the ground and smash it. If that failed to break it, then fine. He wanted to drench its blade in the blood of the fanatics who worshipped this horrifying being as a god.

Just as he was about to slam the Holy Sword into the ground, a faint light wound around its blade. Startled by the sudden glow, Eugene stopped. The light slowly spread to envelop his body.

The Holy Sword was not the only thing shining. The chalice and jawbone in his other hand were each emitting light, as though the two holy relics were responding to the Holy Sword's glow.

Eugene stared at the light for a moment. Then he gave a hollow laugh and began walking.

Holy knights and inquisitors had been standing guard near the warp gate as well. They belonged to different organizations, but their duty was the same. The orders they had received, however, differed.

Giovanni of the Blood Cross Knights had ordered the knights under his command to persuade Eugene "courteously" to return.

Atarax of Maleficarum had given different orders. He had served Cardinal Sergio Rogeris for many years and knew exactly what he wanted. Unlike Giovanni, he also had firsthand experience dealing with Eugene.

Courteous persuasion? That Eugene Lionheart would never let himself be persuaded. His qualities as a Hero were beyond reproach, but his faith was woefully lacking. On top of that, his temperament was rough and violent. No matter how courteously they asked him to return, he would never listen.

So Atarax had ordered them to use force from the start. Subdue him quickly and hold him, or send him back through the warp gate he had used to arrive. It was an exceedingly rough approach, but Atarax believed it was the right one.

When Eugene began walking with the Holy Sword in hand, six people sprang from the undergrowth. Three holy knights in Blood Cross uniforms, and three inquisitors in red robes and military caps. Eugene recognized none of their faces, but all six naturally recognized him.

"Lord Eugene Lionheart."

A holy knight spoke first. For a moment, he felt awe at the shining Holy Sword in Eugene's hand. Then he saw the bowl glowing in Eugene's other hand and felt puzzled. He was not alone. None of the six blocking Eugene's path could imagine that this bowl was the chalice Anise had once used.

"Even you cannot intrude upon this place without permission."

"Please, we ask that you turn ba—"

While the holy knights were still speaking, the inquisitors kicked off the ground. Light flashed beneath their billowing red cloaks. It was a surprise attack that had not been discussed between them. Moreover, their movements were far too lethal for an attempt at restraint.

Eugene was not flustered. In fact, he preferred that they attack first. He did not swing his sword. Even as the inquisitors closed right in front of him, he did not stop walking.

He gave no thought to their abilities or what they could do. None of that shit meant anything to Eugene.

CRUNCH!

To the holy knights, it was violence that could only be called crude. Without a shred of finesse, he swung and slammed down a viciously dense mass of mana. That was all.

Yet not one of the inquisitors managed to resist that simple attack. One was driven into the ground. Another flew sideways, smashed through a tree, and tumbled across the earth. The last was sent flying backward along the very path of his charge.

A chill ran down the holy knights' spines as they shifted their stances. Prayers recited in their minds roused their divine power. It was nearly midnight and the night was dark, but the sacred light surrounding their bodies pushed back the darkness.

Compared to the light enveloping Eugene, however, their glow was faint and insignificant.

The holy knights could not move.

Because of the difference in brightness? No. That was not why. They did not dare move. The very thought that they should move had been annihilated in their minds. Their divine power bolstered their courage and helped them overcome fear, but the moment they looked directly at Eugene's approaching face...

That face.

It was not contorted. Instead, it was composed, almost serene. His expression seemed devoid of emotion, yet the holy knights sensed a horrifying murderous intent and fury that they could scarcely believe belonged to a Hero.

The light surrounding their bodies could not suppress their human instincts. Those instincts screamed that they must not move now, under any circumstances.

Put simply, they had not been prepared. Rather than fighting Eugene, the holy knights had prioritized persuading him through conversation. They had been too soft. So when they faced him, their resolve could not withstand it and broke.

The murderous intent Eugene radiated was so savage and explosive that it could dominate and crush the instincts of not merely ordinary knights, but holy knights of the Blood Cross Knights, renowned for their unwavering faith.

... They swallowed hard.

The three holy knights stood frozen like prey before a predator, not daring to move. Sweating cold sweat, swallowing, they remained there... until Eugene had walked past them.

He advanced through the forest enclosed by the barrier. He had intended to use the Moonlight Sword to smash the barrier and everything within it. There was no need. The Holy Sword's light illuminated a path through it.

The two holy relics in his left hand were still shining as well. Multiple kinds of barriers were interwoven, obstructing his way. Even Eugene's senses could not tell him what lay directly ahead.

It felt like walking through a hazy fog... No, it was more than a feeling. Eugene was actually walking through fog. He could not even distinguish whether the path sloped upward or downward. He did not know if he was going the right way. He had encountered many spells and barriers, but never one this powerful.

"... I should have destroyed the whole thing after all."

Despite his muttering, Eugene did not draw the Moonlight Sword. Had the Holy Sword been shining and lighting the way alone, he would have drawn it without waiting any longer. But it was not the only thing illuminating his path.

The chalice. ... There was something... strange about it. If the Holy Sword's light in his right hand was a torch, then the chalice and jawbone in his left were... almost as though they themselves were taking his hand and pulling him along.

As though they were guiding him that way.

"... Is this..."

Eugene murmured softly, looking ahead.

"A miracle?"

Eugene hated the word "miracle." He always had. People called things miracles when they were absurd, inconceivable, impossible, utterly beyond human power—extraordinary, wondrous occurrences that defied common sense.

On a battlefield, most things that could be called miracles were much the same. Winning a battle that seemed impossible to win. Defeating an enemy far stronger than yourself. Surviving when you should have died. Most of the miracles Eugene—Hamel—had experienced in his past life were of that kind.

Hamel did not want to call such things miracles. Winning an unwinnable battle? That was because people had given their lives for victory. Defeating a powerful enemy? That was because they had fought well. Surviving when he should have died? That was because the enemy was a fucking idiot who hadn't checked whether he was dead. And because someone else had fought desperately to save him.

["If you think about it, couldn't all of those things be called miracles?"]

["No."]

["Hamel. I am healing you now because I possess the power to do so. That power was granted by none other than the God of Light, so my very existence can be called proof of miracles."]

["You're free to think that, but I won't. We're the ones doing the fucking suffering and fighting, and you're the one healing us. Why should we worship all of that as miracles performed by God?"]

["... I do not wish to argue with you over matters of faith, Hamel. I know perfectly well what a tiresome, stubborn bastard you are, as tenacious as a cockroach."]

["Did you just call me a bastard?"]

["Hamel. Ultimately, you dislike having what you accomplished through your own ability and effort regarded as a miracle bestowed by the gracious God of Light, don't you? That is the very definition of arroga—"]

["Not me. Us."]

["... Pardon?"]

["We accomplished it through our ability and effort. We won an unwinnable battle because we fought well. You're healing me now simply because you're here. You're proof of miracles? What kind of fucking bullshit is that? You're not a miracle. You're a living, breathing human being. Aren't you?"]

["... Ha...!"]

["What, got a problem? If you think I'm wrong, go bring that fucking great god you serve here. You can't, can you? Huh? Then what's all this damned talk of miracles—"]

["Then let us put it this way."]

He remembered the expression Anise had worn then.

["... Not all of this is God's miracle. Hamel. As you said... you—no, we... Hehe. That, too, is arrogant, really. Simply everyone... Yes. Everyone accomplished it together. And to that, just a very... very little bit of God's will... a tiny miracle was added."]

Anise had said it with a smile. Looking back, that had been the first time she had not insisted on her own views about faith and miracles, but had yielded a little, acknowledged his point, and accepted it.

A tiny miracle.

Eugene could walk no farther. He stopped where he stood.

Anise had always spoken of God, of light, of miracles. Always smiling that same smile, she prayed to the god she served.

Anise believed in God's existence. So it had seemed. More than anyone else, she desperately needed God to exist. He had to.

Anise had said she wanted to guide everyone who died in that era to heaven. She had said she would shed holy blood in God's stead and illuminate the darkness with light in God's stead. She would become a light surpassed in brilliance only by God, shining for even those who could not enter heaven and guiding them there.

... Sometimes, she had questioned whether God and heaven existed. Countless people died. In that era, far too many people died. Everywhere was a battlefield. It was an age when demonic beasts killed people, monsters killed people, demons killed people, and people killed people.

So Anise doubted God's existence. An omniscient, omnipotent god had not descended to save the world. God had not shed the blood his lambs were forced to shed. The god who should have been the light illuminating all darkness had not illuminated that pitch-black age.

Every day, the sun set, twilight passed into night, and the world gradually brightened with the first light before dawn. Yet the world that greeted that brightness was no different from the night before.

When she despaired at those unchanging days, when she did not try to fight her drunkenness but instead let herself crumble, Hamel had acknowledged a miracle from that fellow called God for the first time. Vermouth. His very existence was a miracle bestowed by God. God was not truly neglecting the world; he had sent Vermouth to save it.

That was what Hamel had said.

"Anise."

Whenever a battle was fierce and long, she always drank.

After a battle that could rightly be called hell, Anise always bled from her back. Fortunately, the smell of her blood was masked by the blood filling their surroundings.

When she removed her habit and revealed her blood-soaked back, Hamel could see how much farther her stigmata had spread. Even while he wiped the blood from them and applied ointment, Anise drank.

"Should I have brought some liquor?"

Eugene murmured quietly.

No answer came.

A small white hand took Eugene's left hand and pulled him along. He could smell no blood from the girl. The white clothes that had been drenched in blood were now pristine and spotless.

That made Eugene want to cry. The hand pulling him had no warmth. He could feel no weight. He knew. That back he could see now. That swaying blond hair. The girl right before him, visible to his eyes but imperceptible to every other sense...

He knew she was not alive. He did not want to believe this... cruel, tiny miracle was something God had bestowed.

"... You..."

The young girl did not look back. She continued walking, guiding Eugene. Slowly, the fog cleared. But Eugene did not want to turn his gaze toward any of that. He watched the girl's hand pulling his left hand, her arm, her back, her hair.

"... You went... to heaven, didn't you?"

Please turn a blind eye to this sacrilege. If you cannot, lay more of the tasks required to enter heaven upon the shoulders of this servant of yours. Let us greet our eventual reunion in the same place.

"In heaven... you became an angel, didn't you?"

At some point, Eugene had begun walking along a different path, no longer in the forest.

The dream the Holy Sword had shown him. The prayer Anise had recited.

["If we cannot enter heaven, who possibly can?"]

It had to be so.

More than anyone, Anise, you must go to heaven. Eugene believed that with all his heart. He knew how Anise had lived in his past life.

For Anise's sake, heaven had to exist.

As she had wished, Anise had to have become a light surpassed in brilliance only by God, illuminating heaven.

["We will surely reunite in paradise. If we do not..."]

CLATTER.

The chalice fell from his hand. It rolled across the floor together with the jawbone it had held.

["Then God does not exist."]

The girl had led him somewhere underground.

This was not an illusion created by the barrier.

Eugene did not want to look directly at what lay before him. He did not know with what emotions, what expression, or what thoughts he should look at it.

DRIP.

He heard a drop of water fall. At the sound, Eugene clenched his teeth. The smell of blood he did not want to smell. Fortunately, the blood he smelled now was his own. Blood flowed from his tightly bitten lip and his wide-open eyes.

'I have to look.'

That voice sounded in his head. It was his own. Eugene raised his lowered head and looked ahead.

The many pipes covering the walls... reached into a pool of water. The pipes drew the water up. After passing through them, it went through filtration devices... then fell back into the spring. That was the dripping Eugene had heard.

So many filtration devices.

So many pipes.

They purified the water again and again. Over and over, without end.

A central pipe drew water from the spring and sent it flowing somewhere else.

It brought to mind a grotesque, horrifying pipe organ. Eugene raised his head and looked up. The filtration devices connected to the pipes. He saw pure white spheres suspended in the air like fruit.

Inside those spheres...

"..."

'What am I doing here right now?'

'What am I holding in my hand?'

The things rolling at his feet.

The things before him.

The things up there.

Somewhere the pipes led...

DRIP.

The sound of a falling drop of water. Eugene closed his eyes once.

When he opened them, countless girls stood upon the spring. Their faces were still difficult to see. Why that was... he did not yet know.

But he could see Anise standing straight, and Kristina crying.

"Poor thing."

Anise spoke. That cruel woman did not tell Eugene everything now. Nor did Eugene seek answers.

Answers did not matter.

"It must have been painful and difficult. It still must be."

Anise approached the weeping Kristina. The countless girls walked with her. One by one, the girls began to disappear. They melted like snow and became part of the spring. But Anise and Kristina did not melt. They remained.

"Hamel."

Anise stood behind the crying Kristina. Then she spread her arms and embraced her.

"What will you do?"

Leaving that cruel question behind, the two vanished. Eugene let his head fall. ... The chalice and jawbone he had dropped had crumbled so thoroughly that their original shapes were unrecognizable.

"..."

What would he do?

It was a question so like Anise. She was the one who wanted that "something," yet she would not say it outright.

There was no need for that now, either.

Eugene raised his lowered head.

Flames of pure murderous intent engulfed his eyes.