Chapter 195 - Damn Reincarnation

Spring of Light

“... Ahem... Ahem...”

Kristina coughed awkwardly and stepped back. All that sobbing had left her eyes stinging and her voice a little hoarse. Glancing at Eugene’s sodden chest, she composed her expression.

“... H-how were you able to come here?”

The question was long overdue, but she could hardly leave it unasked. Kristina still struggled to understand any of this.

The Spring of Light. Even in the Holy Empire, few clergy knew it existed. In fact, Kristina herself did not know exactly where it was. She always traveled here and back by warp gate, and that gate was managed by one of Cardinal Sergio’s most trusted confidants.

“A miracle.”

Eugene answered as he brushed at his tear-soaked chest. Every movement of his hand made Kristina blush. Only now did she realize just how much—and how long—she had cried with her face buried against him.

“... A... miracle.”

Kristina stumbled over the words.

... A miracle? She could only tilt her head in puzzlement. It was not a word she disliked.

Horrific as her experiences as a candidate for sainthood had been, she believed in God. In truth, she could not have endured without that belief. In any case, to Kristina, a “miracle” was something God wrought.

“... Eugene... I thought you did not believe in miracles?”

She knew he did not believe in God. After what he had witnessed here, she suspected he would never believe for the rest of his life. That was why his mention of a “miracle” puzzled her.

“I believe in little miracles, at least.”

Muttering that, Eugene turned. He tried to walk on his own... but the moment he stepped forward, his whole body swayed. It was Ignition’s backlash. Kristina hurried over to support him.

“A-are you all right?”

“I don’t think I’m particularly all right. My left arm hurts more than anything.”

His left arm had been engulfed by Sergio’s light. Its bones were twisted and its flesh crushed. Eugene could only count himself lucky that it had not been torn off altogether.

“Ah... H-healing. Let me heal you.”

Kristina fumbled to begin a prayer. But Eugene shook his head in refusal and staggered forward.

“... Where are you going?”

“The spring.”

Her expression froze at his answer. After a moment’s hesitation, she took a deep breath and spoke.

“... What... do you intend to do at the spring?”

“Destroy it completely.”

He had considered nothing else. Whatever value that spring held for the Holy Empire of Yuras was none of his concern. He had already invaded this place and killed hundreds of holy knights and inquisitors. He had killed Cardinal Sergio Rogeris, a man second only to the Pope.

It would be ridiculous to start worrying about Yuras’s feelings now. No matter what anyone said, Eugene wanted to erase that horrific spring from the world. No, erasing the spring alone would not be enough. He would wipe out the underground chamber that served as its source, the pipes—everything. And he would hold the Pope accountable for all of it.

‘... I don’t understand.’

Eugene glanced at the Holy Sword still in his hand.

Destroy the spring. It seemed Eugene was not the only one who wanted that. Even now, the Holy Sword Altair, this incomprehensible blade, was guiding him toward it.

It had been that way from the beginning. The Holy Sword’s guidance had led him to the source of the Spring of Light. And at the end, when he had cut off Sergio’s head...

Eugene had not tried to summon the Holy Sword’s light. The sword had shone of its own accord as it severed Sergio’s head, then engulfed his body in light and burst it apart.

As though it were delivering true divine punishment.

‘... The God of Light? Or...’

Conflicted, Eugene stood before the Spring of Light. He felt a faint tremor in Kristina’s body as she supported him. Glancing at her rigid face, he spoke.

“If this is too much, why don’t you wait back there?”

“... However difficult this may be for me, I can surely move better than you can right now.”

Kristina took a short, deep breath and looked up at him.

“Besides, I... have no reason to back away from this place. Eugene, how often do you think I have wished to destroy this spring, to erase it? How desperately?”

That was not all.

Deep within her chest, Kristina felt a yearning. It was not the desire to destroy the spring, to erase it... It was difficult to explain, and she could not quite understand why she felt it, but she knew she must not retreat now.

Eugene slowly extended the Holy Sword.

There were plenty of simple ways to destroy the spring. He probably would not even need Empty Sword. Simply pouring sword force into his blade and swinging it should obliterate the entire spring.

But he did not do that just yet.

Instead, he focused on the Holy Sword’s quiet vibrations.

The Holy Sword guided his hand, just as it had when he wandered through the mist. Its blade gave off a soft light. Watching it intently, Eugene stepped forward at its urging.

SPLASH

He walked into the Spring of Light. With each step, the Holy Sword’s trembling grew stronger.

Kristina had never imagined she would enter the spring again. Unable to follow him in, she froze for a moment. Without looking back at her, Eugene kept walking toward the center.

“... Ngh...!”

Kristina clutched her trembling chest and took several deep breaths. Then she cautiously stepped forward to follow Eugene. The moment her bare foot touched the spring...

It felt as though all the pain she had ever suffered here was being branded into her at once.

She had no wounds. She had not cut herself with a knife. She was not bleeding. But the spring itself was a profound trauma for Kristina. The adoptive father who had spent her life forcing a saint’s destiny upon her was dead, but that did not mean all her trauma had vanished.

Kristina knew that herself.

But rather than hesitate for long, she kept stepping forward. Kristina was by no means weak. She knew that if she let those horrific memories bind her, if she collapsed or stopped, nothing would change. She had to face them herself.

She lifted her head and looked ahead.

Eugene stood at the center of the spring. He had stopped and turned to look back at her. The moment she saw those calm golden eyes, Kristina unconsciously clutched her collar.

She did not want him to see her looking shameful.

That was what she thought. Being the Hero or a saint did not matter. She understood that now. But even without being the Hero, Eugene Lionheart was a radiant person.

The trembling in her chest stopped. With a calm, composed face, Kristina approached him.

The Holy Sword’s light intensified.

Feeling its guidance, Eugene turned the blade downward. Then he plunged it into the center of the spring.

A great ripple spread across the surface. The entire spring began to bubble and boil, and the divine power dissolved in its waters swelled as though drawn by the Holy Sword’s light.

Dazzled by the sudden light, Kristina closed her eyes for a moment.

When she opened them, a small girl stood before her and Eugene. Kristina recoiled in astonishment.

“... Me?”

To Kristina, the little girl looked like her past self.

“Anise.”

Eugene was not greatly shaken. He called the girl’s name with a bitter smile.

Anise. At that name, Kristina’s shoulders flinched, and she turned to Eugene.

“... Ah...”

Then she looked at the girl’s face again. Having heard the name “Anise,” she thought the face looked a little different from her own as a child. Yet the only differences were her air and the shape of her eyes.

Yuras had countless statues and portraits of Anise the Faithful. Kristina had seen those images since childhood. She knew that her face resembled Anise’s. But thinking she looked like a painting or a statue was entirely different from standing before someone who truly looked identical to her.

“... Hmm.”

The girl’s lips parted.

She stroked her expressionless cheek, then looked around. A glittering spring... After surveying the entire spring, she looked up at Eugene and Kristina standing before her.

She was struck anew by the difference in their eye levels. Stroking her impassive cheek, the girl broke into a bright smile. Kristina could not help feeling a chill at the sight. The girl’s smiling face was identical to the ideal saint’s smile Kristina had practiced in the mirror since childhood.

Eugene could not smile back at her.

“... You’re a cruel woman.”

The girl kept smiling brightly. As she took a step, the light covering the spring enveloped her with a soft burst. Her appearance changed. No, she grew. The body of a girl barely ten years old matured into the form Eugene knew so well.

“... Ah...”

Kristina was too shocked to speak properly. Looking at “Anise,” now grown into her prime, felt like looking into a mirror.

Then Kristina’s face turned deathly pale. They looked far too alike. ... It could not be mere coincidence. Clapping a hand over her mouth against a surge of nausea, she sank to the spot. Possibilities she did not want to imagine made her head spin.

“... Please do not...”

Anise spoke. Unfurling eight wings, she approached Kristina.

“...hate yourself.”

Anise lowered herself to meet Kristina’s eyes. Despite all the tears she had already shed, Kristina’s eyes filled again. What she had imagined was that horrific, that repulsive.

“You are not a weak person.”

Anise whispered as she embraced her. Unable to speak, Kristina continued to sob.

The eight wings slowly folded down around Kristina. Anise rested her forehead against hers and closed her eyes.

“... Ah...”

Kristina’s blue eyes quivered. She tried to comprehend the vivid images flowing into her mind, but they were more than she could possibly accept while remaining conscious. Her awareness receded into the distance, and her eyes went blank.

Anise drew her forehead away and closed Kristina’s eyes for her. Then she carefully laid her down in the spring.

“... Hamel.”

Anise rose. Still smiling, she turned to Eugene.

“... I always thought that expression would not suit you. Perhaps because your face is different from your previous life... it actually suits you quite well.”

Eugene raised a hand to his face. His features were contorted. He could feel his cheek twitching. Forcing a smile, he shook his head.

“... What did you do?”

“I helped her understand.”

Anise looked down at Kristina’s closed eyes.

“... This... poor child is just like me.”

“... What the hell is this?”

Eugene let out a long sigh, looking between Anise and Kristina.

“... I... saw the source of this damned spring. You were the one who led me there, weren’t you?”

“In truth, I did not want to show you.”

Anise’s smile wavered slightly.

“Hamel. You saw it yourself, so you must know. That... is not something an ordinary person could readily understand.”

“... We’ve seen more horrors than we could count since the old days.”

That was the kind of era it had been three hundred years ago. Black mages who had sold their souls to demons conducted all manner of horrific, inhumane experiments without the slightest moral scruple. There had been many black mages’ workshops near Helmuth, and human experimentation using captured slaves was the most common practice there.

Eugene had seen such workshops time and again in his previous life. He had wiped them out. Erased them from the world. Of course he had. Anise had done the same. She had freed the captive slaves and healed their wounds. She had burned the black mages conducting the experiments with divine magic and personally smashed their heads with her mace.

There had always been people beyond saving.

People on whom the experiments had “progressed” too far.

Black mages often devoted themselves to creating magical organisms and weapons for war, and such experiments stripped humans of their humanity. Chimeras made by mixing humans with monsters, demonic beasts, and various other things. Living sacrifices to enhance black magic. Many slaves had also been used to develop and test new spells.

Anise had volunteered to give them their “end.” She had wrapped the broken and dying, and those who were no longer human, in light and mercifully ended their lives. Each time, she recited a prayer with a sorrowful face.

May they leave this painful world and enter heaven.

“... The source of this spring...”

Eugene let out a long sigh.

“Was worse than the black mages’ workshops I saw in my previous life. It was absolutely... not something clergy serving the God of Light should ever fucking do.”

Filtration devices connected to pipes. Inside them were countless “holy relics.” Relics in name, they were the remains of saints who had died long ago. The waters of the Spring of Light passed through those remains, forcibly “dissolving” their divine power into the water. Then it flowed into the spring through the central pipe.

“It was necessary.”

Anise answered in an even voice.

“That is how saints are made, in the end. This poor child, and every candidate for sainthood before her. ... Myself as well. And the countless saints who preceded me.”

“... But you and Kristina seemed special.”

Eugene recalled the vision he had seen at the spring’s source.

Countless girls. Girls whose faces... he could not see. Even within the vision, their presence had been faint, while Anise and Kristina had been distinct.

It was the same now. Anise had a definite presence within this “miracle.” With eight wings unfurled, as when she had descended at the World Tree, she stood before Eugene as though she truly existed.

“Yes.”

Anise nodded.

“This child and I are special. We were born with an aptitude, unity, and degree of perfection overwhelmingly superior to those of the saints and candidates before us.”

Aptitude, unity, perfection.

Eugene did not want to accept those words.

“... You are kind, Hamel.”

Anise gazed at him with a faint smile.

“I know you are not foolish. You must already have some inkling of what this child and I are. Yet you do not say it aloud because you are considerate enough to fear offending me if your guess happens to be wrong.”

“... I just don’t want you to hit me.”

Eugene muttered and averted his eyes.

“... Honestly, I don’t particularly want to know. I don’t want to confirm it, either. Whatever a saint is, it makes no difference to me. You’re just Anise, and she’s Kristina. What else matters?”

“... Hamel.”

Anise approached Eugene.

“You need not look away. You accept this child and me while telling yourself there is no need to know, but I do not want that sort of pity from you. I want you to be yourself and understand me for what I am. I am certain that child would feel the same.”

Pity.

Eugene smiled bitterly. He could not possibly deny it.

“... What are you?”

So he asked her directly, as Anise wished.

“You and Kristina. No, saints... what the hell are you? Why do those things happen in this spring?”

Anise stood before Eugene with a clear smile.

“In distant antiquity, the God of Light first descended upon this land. He fashioned the Holy Sword Altair from his own flesh and blood and brought light to the world. Then he established a religion and founded Yuras.”

Yuras’s founding myth. The story of the Holy Emperor who first established the Holy Empire.

“That primordial incarnation reigned over Yuras for many years, serving as a beacon in those chaotic ancient times. With him at the forefront, faith spread throughout the world, and various gods were born and vanished. ... The Holy Emperor reigned for a long time, protecting Yuras and his subjects, but he was not immortal. He had descended into the world as an incarnation, after all, and one day he had to return to the heavens from which he had come.”

Anise looked into Eugene’s wavering eyes.

“After the Holy Emperor departed, many believers became afraid. With the Light ascended to heaven, they feared the world might sink into darkness again. They prayed that the Light would send down another incarnation, but no new Incarnation of Light was born in Yuras.”

They yearned for light.

“That yearning demanded a new object of worship. Light always exists, but... it is abstract as something to serve. They needed a more definite object of worship—an Incarnation of Light.”

“...”

“Ancient Yuras needed not only a Pope, but various symbols as well. Symbols for fanaticism. The stigmata said to dwell in the bodies of the Pope and cardinals were used as a sign that the Light watched over this world and ‘personally’ chose its representatives. Thus, countless believers came to worship the Pope and cardinals as gods.”

“... And saints...”

“Are symbols of worship, just like the Pope and cardinals.”

Anise’s smile twisted.

“The first saint was an imitation incarnation made using the Holy Emperor’s remains.”

“...”

“A divine weapon capable of miracles, made by embedding the Holy Emperor’s bones in a young girl’s body. An idol created to be worshipped.”

That was how the fanatics of antiquity had created light themselves.