Chapter 198 - Damn Reincarnation

Crusader

Near the utterly ruined temple lay an enormous hole that did not fit the surrounding terrain. Eugene had made it a few days earlier.

A tall woman stood at its edge. She tilted her head slightly, looking down into depths whose bottom was out of sight. A half-moon softly lit the night sky, but darkness began creeping outward from her back.

The darkness she created enveloped the area like mist and settled deep inside the hole. Once she had spread it, the woman walked barefoot down toward the bottom.

She had only descended a short way before she began seeing corpses. They looked as though they had desperately tried to crawl out. But escaping a hole this deep with their bodies smashed must have been impossible. Most lay collapsed on trails that resembled the tracks of slithering snakes.

Most of their fingertips were crushed, caked with blood and dirt. They had been dead for days, and their bodies had long since stiffened, but their faces remained contorted with pain and terror. The woman met the gaze of each face as she descended farther and farther.

The thin veil covering her mouth twitched. With every step downward, a foul stench pressed heavily upon the space around her.

The smell of blood and entrails. The smell of decay setting in days after death. The concentrated smell of death from countless corpses. It stirred a little excitement in her. This was a peaceful age without war. Places where so many bodies lay buried together were hard to find.

And these corpses were not worthless people of low status or no status at all, whose deaths would cause no trouble no matter how many died. The woman examined their uniforms. The red crosses on their chests were the emblem of the Blood Cross Knights, and those red cloaks marked the inquisitorial bureau, Maleficarum.

There were well over a hundred corpses. Not all had died instantly. Quite a few must have survived initially, only to find themselves unable to escape the hole because of their grievous wounds and exhaustion.

But human life was remarkably tenacious. A few still breathed. In fading voices, they murmured prayers or called for God. Some begged to be saved. A few had already lost their minds and mumbled incomprehensible words.

The woman paid them no attention. She had no reason to save them. The darkness spreading with each of her steps took their lives. The souls she harvested did not ascend into the sky, but dissolved into the darkness.

At the bottom of the hole, the woman stopped.

It was pitch-dark here without her having to summon any darkness. The intensely concentrated smell of death made breathing a pleasure. Lifting her veil slightly, she inhaled the stench. Then she looked down a little farther, delight in her eyes.

There was no ground at the bottom. Nor was there a pile of corpses. There was bright red blood, pooled like rainwater.

She could see “fragments” of corpses drifting in it. Her closed lips curved into a thin smile. With her purple eyes gleaming, she extended a foot toward the pool.

PLOP!

Her step sent ripples across the pool of blood. A thin layer of its surface parted, exposing what lay beneath. Corpses that looked as though they had been gnawed away. Blood far too plentiful and clean to have come from those bodies.

“I wondered what had happened when Atarax died.”

Atarax the Punisher.

In the woman’s opinion, he had been a rare open-minded clergyman.

In this day and age, black magic was no longer persecuted without exception. Even demons, though they could not rise to the rank of bishop, could enter the faith of Light and become clergy if they truly wished.

But an inquisitor seeking even a little understanding of black magic rather than harboring a deep prejudice against it was still difficult to imagine.

The woman had met Atarax in the past, after he secretly contacted her. With a stern demeanor, he had demanded advice about black magic, his organization’s principal enemy. No, his manner then had been closer to a threat.

Their inquisitorial bureau could capture and kill her at any time. If she wanted to stay alive, she had to cooperate with their demands.

She had known from the outset that this demand was merely a plausible cover. The black magic Atarax wanted advice on was not the kind one would confront as an enemy.

She had thought he would fall someday.

She wanted to witness the moment his arrogant delusion—that the Light would forgive and overlook every wrong he committed—was shattered. If a clergyman who had reached such heights fell from grace, what unique flavor would permeate his soul? That curiosity and greed had prompted her to secretly brand the young Atarax.

“... There wasn’t a trace of Atarax’s corpse. No soul remained, either. Did he ascend to heaven, as he so obsessively desired? Or was his very soul annihilated...? Hehe. Personally, I would have dearly loved to see his final moments.”

She was not talking to herself.

The woman gazed at the figure floating in the center of the pool. All four limbs had been severed, leaving only a torso and head. Those wounds should certainly have been fatal, yet the figure had not died.

“Depending on how you use it, blood magic can grant you a degree of immortality rivaling the undead,” the woman whispered.

“Did you know? You people classified blood magic as something separate from black magic, but that isn’t necessarily true. Blood magic originated with blood-drinking vampires.”

Hemoria kept forcing one breath after another, each threatening to be her last.

“Vampires possess particularly strong powers of immortality, even among demons. They can revive with just a single drop of blood. Blood magic works similarly, doesn’t it? Rather than requiring you to drink blood as vampires must, it lets you multiply your own blood with mana and magic... Hehe. Though you seem to have gone beyond ordinary blood magic.”

“... You...”

Hemoria’s lips parted. Forcing out a hoarse voice, she glared at the woman.

“... Amelia Merwin...”

One of Incarceration’s Three Demons.

The desert’s dungeon master. Black Thorn. Death Answer. Amelia Merwin was particularly eccentric and powerful even among Incarceration’s black mages, and so she had many epithets. The Kingdom of Nahama had even designated the Ashur Desert she ruled a forbidden zone and restricted entry.

“Why... are you... here?”

“I told you, didn’t I? I came to see Atarax’s corpse. It’s a shame I won’t get to see him fall while alive, but I intended to make him undead if his corpse remained. Oh, don’t you know? If the body is still there and it’s only been a few days since death, you can summon the dead soul back into it.”

Amelia smiled brightly and raised a hand. A staff made from a mountain goat’s head and assorted bones appeared in her grasp.

RATTLE!

The magical power released from the staff evaporated the blood.

“But Atarax’s corpse was nowhere to be found. There were plenty of other bodies, but every last one was useless and worthless. I’m glad I came all the way down here. It feels like finding a jewel lying in the street.”

“... Let... go...!”

Amelia’s magical power coiled around Hemoria. She twisted in an effort to escape, but with all her limbs severed, the only resistance she could offer was to arch her back and shake her head.

No. Hemoria did have another way to resist. Her blood magic was under Amelia’s control. She needed to get closer... to make certain of it.

The instant Amelia’s magical power began drawing Hemoria toward her, patterns appeared on both of Hemoria’s cheeks.

“S-stop!”

The simpler the spoken command, the stronger its power. She did not need to hold her for long. She only needed to make her stop for a moment.

Hemoria’s mouth opened wide, and she bit into empty air.

CRUNCH!

Amelia’s head tilted sideways. More than half her neck had been bitten away. Spurting blood dyed her veil and clothes red. A human should have died.

But Amelia did not.

Her tilted head straightened. The blood stopped spurting. Amelia chuckled as she stroked the missing part of her neck.

“Blood magic and spoken-command sorcery. Both forms of magic the Holy Empire hunted down. And those teeth...”

Amelia examined Hemoria’s sharp teeth.

They were not mere teeth. They were curses bordering on black magic, condensed into the shape of teeth. The idea of implanting such things in one’s gums was insane in itself, but...

“Your very body was designed to make optimal use of its magic. No matter how early you began training, it would be difficult to achieve the level of optimization you have. Talent like that would ordinarily show itself in other areas as well, but you specialize only in blood magic and spoken-command sorcery. You’re not particularly impressive at anything else.”

Hemoria’s eyes trembled.

“Honestly, I’m surprised. To think the Holy Empire... no, the inquisitorial bureau understands magic and black magic this well.”

“Sh... shut up...”

“Oh. You don’t seem to know, do you? It wasn’t just Atarax. Your inquisitorial bureau has contacted black mages throughout the ages. I don’t know whom they contacted before me, but even before Atarax, I advised two inquisitors on black magic.”

Hemoria’s face went white.

“What is it? Are you disappointed? Do you find it abhorrent that your inquisitorial bureau has ties to a black mage—and to me, Amelia Merwin, at that? Why complain now? I actually admired them. Even among mages, an appetite for discovery that drives someone to understand black magic for the sake of the god they serve is uncommon.”

Amelia snickered and ran her hand over her wound. Fresh flesh grew wherever her fingers passed, joining the wound back together.

“Oh, Atarax was quite amusing even among them. Threatening me without knowing his place, so confident the Light would protect him no matter what. It was so entertain—”

“My master... my Master...! Don’t insult my father!”

Hemoria twisted and screamed.

Father! A broad smile spread across Amelia’s face at that word. She strode over and seized Hemoria by the hair. Forcing her head up, she brought her face close and peered into Hemoria’s eyes.

A chilling sensation swept over Hemoria. It felt as though terror of death poured from the depths of the eyes facing hers. Unable to speak any longer, she trembled all over. The patterns of the spoken-command curse vanished from her cheeks, no longer sustained.

“... Your faaather?”

Snickering, Amelia gripped Hemoria’s jaw with her other hand. She forced her mouth open, slipped her fingers inside, and seized one of the sharp teeth.

CRACK!

Blood welled from the tooth she forcibly pulled out. But Hemoria could not even scream. Amelia’s shoulders shook as she turned the extracted tooth this way and that.

“You ate humans, didn’t you?”

Hemoria’s face went white.

“These corpses here. The ones who aren’t corpses yet. Aren’t they all your comrades? You ate your comrades to survive down here.”

“N-no. I...”

“Are you going to excuse yourself by saying you didn’t literally eat them? Do you know how ridiculous that is? You used blood magic to draw blood from the corpses and the half-dead here. You made it your own blood and tried to heal your wounds. A few more days, and you probably would have recovered enough to escape this hole on your own.”

Amelia released her hair.

SPLASH!

Hemoria’s limbless body fell into the pool of blood. She looked at the corpses submerged in it.

In truth, they were so horribly mangled that it was difficult to recognize them as human bodies. Hemoria had not killed them. She had merely linked herself to the blood of the dead...

That was what she thought.

“I love things like this. An inquisitor who served the Light unconditionally was secretly contacting black mages and studying black magic—that alone is delightful... But then there’s the story of the daughter he kept secret. And that daughter even sucked the lifeblood of her comrades, of holy knights and other inquisitors, to keep herself alive.”

“No... no. I...”

“And on top of that, his daughter isn’t a proper human, but a kind of chimera? I came all this way hoping to pick up your daddy’s corpse, but ahaha! You’re even more entertaining than he was.”

Hemoria barely managed to lift her head and look up at Amelia. Those purple eyes gleaming in the darkness were terrifying. Unconsciously, Hemoria moved her lips and recited a prayer to the Light.

“You’re still calling for the Light in that state? I’m no believer, but I can say this with confidence. The Light isn’t a fucking idiot. Would it care for someone who’s done what you have?”

“I... I did it for the Light...”

“Your daddy said that, too. Perhaps he died saying it? If the Light really cared for you, you wouldn’t have lost your limbs, and your daddy wouldn’t have died. No, no. If the Light really cared for the world in the first place, your daddy would never have made you. Your very existence is an insult to the Light!”

THWACK!

Her swinging staff slammed into Hemoria’s back.

“You’re such an idiot that you don’t even seem to know what you are, so let me tell you. You aren’t a normal human. Do you understand? You’re a chimera made by mixing a human with various other things.”

Hemoria stopped trembling.

“Atarax is your daddy? That probably means some of your genes were fashioned from semen and blood he extracted, but from my perspective as both a black mage and a mage, the blood relationship you share with Atarax amounts to a handful of sand. Don’t you think so yourself? The blood you’ve extracted and circulated through your body to stay alive these past few days is thicker than the blood you inherited from Atarax, isn’t it?”

“No... n-n-no...”

“What do you mean, no? Why deny something so obvious? Oh, I suppose that’s possible. You fanatics reject everything that isn’t the Light before anything else. It’s all right. I’ll be understanding. I’d prefer your character and convictions to be very, very firm.”

Amelia’s magical power lifted Hemoria into the air.

“That makes breaking you in more fun. Don’t worry. I won’t kill you. In fact, I’ll give you what you want. Your limbs were severed? Then you’ll need limbs again, won’t you? Ah... what’s your name, by the way?”

Hemoria did not answer. She could not. The words Amelia had poured out between cackles, the truths she had spoken so casually, as though merely teasing, shook Hemoria’s mind.

“You won’t tell me? Then I’ll have to hear it another time. Now, let’s understand this first. The Light didn’t protect you. It didn’t care for you as you lay dying. You had no choice? Yes, that’s right. If the Light had cared for you, you wouldn’t have needed to suck your comrades’ blood.”

Speaking cheerfully, Amelia dragged Hemoria away.

“Do you understand what that means? The Light you serve isn’t as benevolent as your prayers say. So what should you resent?”

The voice sounded distant. Through her wavering vision, Hemoria saw a small light.

That light was held in a devil’s hand. The devil approached Hemoria, radiating murderous intent and hatred so terrifying it seemed impossible that he belonged to this world.

The Light that should have cared for Hemoria and the other faithful shone in that devil’s hand. And it danced with him.

GRIND...

Her teeth ground together inside her tightly closed mouth.

* * *

Two days after the ritual at the Spring of Light ended, Eugene and Kristina were staying in a tent pitched deep within a vast forest. It was a magical artifact Eugene had favored ever since his travels through the Great Forest of Samar.

Though the backlash had been mild, Eugene had spent those two days resting in bed without exerting himself. Kristina nursed him, leaving the tent at mealtimes to hunt small animals or gather leaves and the like.

Occasionally, when Mer volunteered to take over nursing him, Kristina knelt and prayed. ... She no longer recited prayers aloud, but deep in her heart, she remained conscious of the Light.

Whenever she did, Anise’s voice sounded inside her head. As she listened, a gentle light enveloped her body.

“We won’t need to turn on a light at night.”

The radiance surrounding Kristina was pleasantly bright. Unlike magical lights or the sun in the sky, it did not hurt the eyes even when gazed at for a long time. It was also fairly warm, though not as warm as a campfire. Mer particularly liked that no matter how close she held her hands, it never burned, but merely warmed her comfortably.

“It would be lovely for reading. And cuddling up to her on a cold winter night would be ni—”

Mer stopped speaking and glared at Eugene.

“Of course, you mustn’t do that, Sir Eugene.”

“When did I ever say I would?”

“If Lady Anise takes over that body and tries to hug you, you have to be firm. Tell her no. Understand?”

“Am I a child?”

“You do act like one sometimes.”

“Instead of lecturing me, why don’t you get off her? Why do you keep bothering her while she’s praying?”

Mer was lying with her head resting on the kneeling Kristina’s thighs.

“They’re so soft and cushy. I love it. Of course, it’s a sensation you’ll never know in your lifetime, Sir Eugene. Oh, and just because I said that, if you try finding out behind my back...”

“Give it a rest, you little brat.”

Grumbling, Eugene unwound the bandages around his left hand.

It had been crushed two days earlier, but Kristina’s miracle had healed it completely. The shattered bones had fully set while wrapped in the bandages, and none of his nerves remained severed.

‘... Definitely. Her miracles have grown stronger than before.’

Even before this, Kristina’s miracles had been beyond comparison with those of other clergy, but the healing magic she had used in the Great Forest of Samar had not reached this level.

It was thanks to Anise, who dwelled within her. Someday, Kristina would reach the point where she could regenerate severed limbs as Anise had.

Eugene looked forward to that day, but he was also concerned. In the end, weren’t they keeping Anise, who had died long ago, tied to the world of the living and making her suffer?

‘... No... wait. If I think about it that way, I’m the pitiful one. Reincarnating someone who died three hundred years ago and making him go through all this... Vermouth, you fucking bastard.’

Anise knew nothing about Vermouth.

She had learned from Eugene that Vermouth had torn a hole in Senya’s chest, but she seemed to know nothing beyond that. It was only natural. After returning from Helmuth, Anise had never contacted Vermouth separately.

A promise with the Demon King.

Senya had not been the only one disappointed that their battle had ended that way.

“... Hmm.”

Having removed the bandages, Eugene rose. Kristina stopped praying and opened her eyes as well. She turned toward him with a trace of anxiety in her gaze.

“Why are you so startled? We expected someone to come looking for us.”

“... But...”

“It’s all right.”

With that, Eugene opened the tent’s entrance.

Someone was approaching from far away. They could have concealed their presence and drawn close in secret if they wished, but instead they were openly advertising it. They wanted Eugene and Kristina to notice and respond.

“Well-mannered fellow.”

Muttering to himself, Eugene took the Holy Sword from his cloak.

He did not know who it was, but it was certainly a high-ranking clergyman of Yuras. Another cardinal? No... this keen-edged presence was closer to a knight’s. At least a captain of the Blood Cross Knights.

‘No, that’s not it.’

Someone stronger. Though they were still quite far away, the presence he sensed was immensely heavy. A powerful warrior rivaling Alchester, commander of the White Dragon Knights, was approaching.

‘The commander of the Blood Cross Knights?’

The Crusader.

Eugene went forward to meet them.