Chapter 201 - Damn Reincarnation

Audience Chamber

The fully spread wings blocked the Audience Chamber’s doors and walls. Euryus forgot even to regenerate his severed wrist, staring at Kristina with wide eyes.

Wings were a symbol of standing. According to the Scripture of Light, when the Holy Emperor, the Incarnation of Light, descended to this land, the angel he summoned and favored above all others possessed six wings.

Yuras had been obsessed with reproducing that miracle. Yet divine magic could manifest only two wings. Stronger faith and divine power could make them larger and brighter, but the number of wings—the very thing they truly wished to reproduce—could not be increased.

They had tried various ways of artificially increasing the number of wings. None had worked well. Attaching a few extra wings to a pegasus, which was born with wings, was so simple it could hardly be called a miracle. Artificially attaching wings to a wingless human, however, was no easy task.

In truth, had ordinary wings satisfied them, they could have attached dozens to a person’s back, not merely six.

But they did not want ordinary wings. Wings of Light. Wings made of light. Wings manifested through a miracle. Even the Pope and cardinals, with their artificially engraved stigmata, could manifest only two Wings of Light.

That was why the three men could not take their eyes off Kristina.

Look at those eight brilliantly shining wings. They had not been made artificially. They were an unmistakable miracle, a manifestation of divine majesty. These three men could also manifest large, brilliant wings, but even if all three did so together, it seemed their light could not intrude upon the radiance of those eight wings.

They shone so brilliantly... yet looking straight at them did not hurt the eyes. The light gently caressed their eyes and seeped into them, stirring their souls.

“... Ah...!”

Cardinal Beshara gave a soft gasp and closed his eyes. A single tear ran down his cheek.

Cardinal Pietro, beside him, shed no tears. Instead, he glared at Kristina with eyes widened in disbelief, clenching a fist inside his sleeve.

Raphael, who held his greatsword against both their throats, looked into Pietro’s eyes. The emotion creeping through them was neither awe nor reverence.

So Raphael did not hesitate.

CRUNCH!

He pushed the tilted blade forward, beheading Pietro like a guillotine. Even Pietro himself could never have imagined his head would be cut off like this. He bore stigmata on his forearms and was one of only three cardinals in the Holy Empire.

Raphael did not give a damn about any of that. A miracle that deserved acknowledgment had been shown to him. Refusing to acknowledge it naturally warranted punishment.

Pietro was beheaded before he could summon any light. Raphael caught his head by the hair as it rolled along the blade.

SPLASH!

Blood belatedly spurted upward, staining the Audience Chamber’s walls and ceiling red.

“... Uh...”

Blood splashed onto Beshara’s cheek. Startled, he looked beside him. Pietro’s headless body was swaying.

Beshara was not the only one taken aback. Kristina and Eugene were just as startled. Pope Euryus’s mouth fell open at this latest shock. Only Raphael remained calm as he lifted Pietro’s head.

“... Why did you... kill him?”

Eugene was so dumbfounded that he stumbled over his question. Raphael answered while swinging Pietro’s head from side to side.

“This won’t kill him.”

“What utter nonsense... How can he survive being beheaded? Even Cardinal Sergio would have died if his head were cut off...”

“Pietro heads the Faculty of Divine Magic. He is different from Sergio, a martial fighter who came from the inquisitorial bureau. Isn’t that right?”

THUD!

Raphael slammed the head he had been swinging into the wall.

“Aaargh!”

Pietro opened his mouth and screamed.

The sight made Eugene briefly dizzy. There had been a few high-ranking demons who did not die when beheaded, but this was his first time seeing a human survive it.

“R-Ra-Raphael! You... How dare you!”

Pietro shouted, spitting blood. Perhaps because his neck had been sliced clean through, his voice was full of airy hissing.

“Quickly... Quickly, my head...! It must be reattached...!”

“You’ll die if you stay like this for about five minutes, won’t you?”

“How... dare you...!”

“I suspected as much, but seeing it in person is truly horrifying and disgusting. Is this really a miracle? It looks like wicked black magic to me...”

“Grrrk...!”

“I’ve wanted to try cutting your head off for quite some time. Please don’t take it too personally, Pietro. You’ve been coaxing those poor orphaned fledglings among the new recruits in the divine army into all manner of experiments, haven’t you?”

“You! Don’t assume... everything you know is the truth...! That was to advance miracles...”

“I didn’t cut off your head to debate with you.”

With that, Raphael threw Pietro’s head behind him. It struck the wall, fell to the floor, and rolled away.

“Grrrkk!”

Raphael’s abrupt beheading of a cardinal had put Eugene in a very awkward position. A sidelong glance brought his eyes to Euryus’s, whose neck was still touching the Moonlight Sword and Holy Sword.

“... Eugene Lionheart. Are you going to kill me?”

“Where are your manners?”

“?”

Euryus’s eyes wavered.

“Don’t you understand the situation? Can you survive having your head cut off like him, too?”

“...”

“Listen carefully. I’m the Hero acknowledged by the Holy Sword, and according to your doctrine, I’m the Incarnation of Light. Right? And the Pope is the Light’s representative. Naturally, an incarnation is closer to the god than a representative, isn’t he?”

“... That is...”

“What? Are you going to spout that same shit as Sergio about me being fallen?”

Euryus looked at Eugene without a word. After a moment, he let out a long sigh and nodded.

“... I understand. Please set aside your anger and see to Pietro’s head.”

“Why should I?”

“You may not understand, Lord Eugene, but Pietro has done much for the Light over many decades.”

“And surviving decapitation is the result?”

“... It is the result of repeatedly inscribing miracles upon his own body. Sir Raphael says Pietro did terrible things to young recruits, but all of that was to strengthen the divine army. What else would the Holy Empire of Yuras use a mighty army for? We seek to keep Helmuth in check...”

“I didn’t come here to listen to that crap, either.”

Light rose from the Holy Sword. Euryus narrowed his eyes at the light rippling beside his neck.

“... Let us talk, Lord Eugene.”

Before Eugene could answer, Pietro’s head shouted from the corner where it had rolled.

“Talk?! Your Holiness, what could you possibly have to discuss with that band of wicked degenerates?!”

Pietro was struggling to remain rational. More than a minute must already have passed since his head was severed. Even with stigmata, he would die unless the severed surfaces were reattached within five minutes. Knowing he had only a few minutes left to live filled him with anxiety and rage.

“Summon the holy knights and soldiers at once—”

“If I offer you his head, will you speak with me?”

Euryus indicated Pietro with his eyes. Pietro’s face, pale from losing so much blood, contorted.

“Euryus!”

“I’m sorry, Pietro. But I do not wish to go down in history like this.”

“W-What are you saying?!”

“We might overcome this threat. But do you think we could do so without any commotion? A disturbance is inevitable, and it will bring holy knights and soldiers rushing here.”

Euryus sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

“... How should we explain this situation to them? That Eugene Lionheart, the Incarnation of Light, has rebelled, and the ever-loyal Crusader, Sir Raphael, has joined his rebellion? How should we explain the wings on Kristina, our candidate for sainthood?”

“That... is...!”

“I have considered it several times, but overcoming this situation or resisting them would bring the faith no benefit whatsoever.”

“Even so...! You would sacrifice me, after we’ve led the faith together for d-decades?!”

“Calm your anger, Pietro. In the end, did you not bring your beheading upon yourself?”

Eugene snorted as he listened to their exchange. Pope Euryus was undoubtedly a fanatic himself, but he possessed the shrewdness befitting a man who had led the faith of Light for decades.

“I’m more than willing to talk.”

“What will you do with Pietro’s head?”

“Why ask me? I’m not the one who cut it off.”

Eugene shrugged with a sly smile. At this point, one more or one fewer life would make little difference, but he did not want to shoulder any unnecessary responsibility.

Whether Raphael understood that intention was unclear. What was certain was that he disliked Pietro. The divine spells developed by the Faculty of Divine Magic under Pietro’s leadership exacted prices unworthy of miracles, most of which involved damaging the body.

The Blood Cross Knights under Raphael’s command did not rely on such dubious, shoddy miracles, but Yuras had far too many holy knights.

Among them were newly ordained knights who knocked on the Faculty of Divine Magic’s doors in hopes of obtaining stronger, more brilliant light.

“W-Wait.”

Pietro screamed.

Light surged from Raphael’s greatsword. Beshara, watching him from directly in front, sighed and made the sign of the cross.

There was no sound of the blade cutting. Raphael’s greatsword moved with unbelievable speed for its size, hacking Pietro’s body to pieces.

SPLAT!

A flowing follow-up slash swept through Pietro’s head. Again, he had no chance to scream. Brilliant light swallowed his head, and within it, the head crumbled to dust and scattered.

“... The light,” Beshara murmured. “... For light shining from a sword that has killed a cardinal... it is unbelievably pure.”

“Indeed it is.”

Raphael smiled as he extinguished the light of his greatsword.

“... What did you do at the Spring of Light?”

“I saved a woman who was bleeding profusely.”

“... You killed all those believers in the course of saving the candidate for sainthood?”

“I didn’t save her because she was a candidate for sainthood.”

“Then why?”

“I received a revelation.”

It was not a lie. He had followed the Holy Sword’s guidance through the temple’s barrier. At the spring’s source, he had seen the saints who had been added to it long ago.

“After being shown a revelation like that, I couldn’t just sit back.”

“... A revelation.”

Euryus chuckled and nodded. At some point, the two swords touching his neck had been withdrawn. He picked up his right arm from the table and pressed it against the severed stump.

SIZZLE!

The flesh knitted together and reconnected.

“Did the revelation tell you to destroy the spring?”

“No.”

“Then destroying the spring was your own decision, Lord Eugene.”

“That’s right.”

“... The fact that the Holy Sword shines brilliantly in your hand... Does that mean the Light was angered by the spring and the ritual?”

“I don’t know about the Light, but I was angry.”

“Lord Eugene.”

Euryus raised both hands to the triple crown upon his head, slowly removed it, and set it down before him.

“Was our faith mistaken?”

That question could not be answered lightly. Eugene gazed at the Pope of Yuras before him. There was only one Pope in front of him now, but the eyes shimmering with light held the Holy Empire’s entire history.

“How would I know?”

So Eugene answered honestly. He had not come with some grand intention of judging whether their faith was right or wrong. All he wanted was for ‘nothing’ to happen, right now. For everything he had done in Yuras not to become a problem that held him back. For none of the troublesome, far-reaching consequences of making an enemy of Yuras to arise.

“If you want to hear whether your faith is right or wrong, ask her.”

Eugene turned his head and looked down.

His eyes met Kristina’s as she stood with eight wings spread.

[“Kristina Rogeris.”]

The voice in her mind.

It had not pushed her into action. Kristina knew very well what she should do in this situation. Doing it required no great resolve. She knew she had the right to do so.

Light became feathers and drifted through the air.

Kristina spread her wings wide and flew up before Euryus.

“Ah...!”

Beshara closed his eyes and prayed at the holy sight. Euryus steadied his trembling breath, closing his eyes once before opening them again.

“... Kristina, candidate for sainthood. No, I should no longer call you—”

Before he could finish, Kristina’s right hand struck him across the face.

SMACK!

A sound far too heavy to belong to a slap echoed through the Audience Chamber.

“First, take that.”

Kristina’s lips parted.

“I have learned what I am. I know what the saints before me were, and what became of them after their deaths. The Spring of Light. I also know the truth behind that empty, pretentious name.”

“... But you have gained wings.”

“Yes, I have. But these wings did not come to me through the miracles and rituals you designed. These wings are not the false miracle you pursued.”

“Then was everything we have done meaningless?” Euryus asked. “Was our faith—no, the faith of every Pope and cardinal throughout history—mistaken?”

“Some people,” Kristina said, “must have found salvation in the nation you maintained, and in the Light and faith you ceaselessly promoted.”

She recalled memories from long ago, before she had become Sergio Rogeris’s adopted daughter. Memories of living in a quiet, peaceful rural convent.

She must have been watched even then, but as a young child, she had been unaware of it. All the children raised at the convent were alike. Children abandoned by their parents. Children who knew nothing of an ordinary home or family.

The convents of the faith of Light took in such orphans.

Kristina did not believe that every orphan raised in a convent had grown up well and found happiness, however belatedly. But back then, she had thought of life in the convent as salvation from the Light, reaching out to her after she had been abandoned.

“And some people must have suffered because of your yearning.”

“Are you saying it is wrong to yearn for the Light?”

“No, it is not wrong. But you went beyond yearning. You sought to create the Light with your own hands and possess it. You... worshipped the Light as a god, yet trespassed upon that god.”

“Hahaha...!”

Euryus burst into laughter and shook his head.

“If you truly know everything, and manifested those wings through a ‘true’ miracle, then please answer this question. In the distant past, the Incarnation of Light who descended to this land—the Holy Emperor—died and departed, leaving behind the Holy Sword, Altair.”

“Yes, he did.”

“But after the Holy Emperor, not one believer who followed the Light could wield the Holy Sword. And was that all? Though the believers yearned so fervently for the Light, the Light in the heavens above did not return. Nor did he ever send down a new apostle to take his place.”

Euryus’s face was no longer calm. He continued, looking at Kristina with eyes full of passion.

“That is why our predecessors sought to bring the Light back. Was that... was that wrong?”

“The Light...”

Kristina had seen Anise’s memories. She no longer doubted the existence of the God of Light.

“No matter what ugly deeds they committed, he remained unchanged and continued to grant them light.”

They had artificially created saints, replicated them, and made the Spring of Light using their bodily remains as holy relics.

They had had no other choice. The present era was peaceful, but a mere three hundred years ago, it had been an age of war led by the Demon Kings. Before that, wars had been frequent whenever nations or faiths clashed.

In such times, the saints created as holy weapons had served admirably. On battlefields where a saint was present, allied casualties were overwhelmingly lower. The price was the saint’s short life, but countless soldiers survived in her stead.

“... The Light accepted, with sorrow, what the Popes and cardinals throughout history had done.”

If the existence of the saints had truly been wrong, if Yuras had been wrong to create and use them, the Light would have abandoned them long ago.

“The Light does not return because he already dwells within the believers who worship him, and shines upon them from the heavens above.”

“...”

“The merciful Light accepted this nation’s entire history. But he did not approve of its transgressions. The Light knows how fanaticism destroys people. That is why he did not permit this nation’s subjects to wield the Holy Sword.”

“How... How could that be?!”

“Remember this nation’s history, and what you did to promote your faith. The stigmata of the successive Popes and cardinals. Those alone made them seem special, and countless people became believers in the Light, captivated by the symbol of ‘stigmata.’”

“... It was to help the faith flourish—”

“Yes. They made the faith flourish through stigmata they engraved themselves and saints they created themselves. Thus Yuras reigned as the Holy Empire for long ages. That was as far as the Light permitted those transgressions to go. The Light could not bear for the Holy Sword, which he had fashioned from his own flesh and blood, to become a symbol of fanatical proselytism.”

“Haha... Hahaha!”

Euryus laughed hollowly and lowered his head.

“... If that is why we cannot wield the Holy Sword... then why... could Vermouth the Great wield it? Why does his descendant, Eugene Lionheart, hold it now?”

“It was an age that needed a Hero,” Kristina answered in an unwavering voice. “The Light wished for the Holy Sword to be used solely to save the world, not to lead an age as a symbol of fanaticism. Someone worthy took up the Holy Sword and became the Hero.”

“... Saint Kristina. Are you... saying that Eugene Lionheart, not Yuras, is the Hero who will save the world?”

“I am not the one who chose him as the Hero. The Light himself chose Lord Eugene Lionheart.”

“...”

“I was born a saint and made into a saint. But to me, a saint’s life was never salvation.”

Kristina turned to look at Eugene.

“... Lord Eugene saved me from that. He looked directly at me as a person, not a saint, and reached out his hand. Pope Euryus. Have you... ever thought of saving the ‘candidate for sainthood’?”

Of course he had not. A candidate for sainthood was simply that sort of being. Someone necessary for Yuras, for the Church, for the world. Naturally, a saint’s mission had to take precedence over her individual personality or feelings.

“Yuras could not save even one woman festering in anguish. How could such a nation become the Hero who saves the world?”

Euryus could say no more and closed his eyes. Beshara shed tears as he repeated his prayers.

“... What must we do?”

After a long silence, Euryus spoke.

“... What do you ask of us?”

“Do not interfere,” Kristina answered. “Do not dare try to judge Lord Eugene. Commit no more transgressions. Do not repeat your sins. ... Remember the saints who have been sacrificed, and the candidates who never became saints... and erect a memorial to them.”

“...”

“The coming age will no longer need saints. So do not try to create any more. If you still possess holy relics... return them to where they belong. Do not officially recognize me as a saint. You have no right to recognize me.”

“... Our faith...”

“Worship the Light with pure devotion. Be grateful for the light that exists everywhere in the world.”

“... Yes.”

Euryus gazed at the light with vacant eyes.

“... It shall be done.”

It was done now.

Feeling slightly dizzy, Kristina tried to step back. At that moment, however, Anise spoke in her mind.

[“Kristina. May I borrow your body for a moment?”]

‘Sister. Is there something else you need to say?’

[“This is personal business. It will not take long, so please allow me to use your body for a moment.”]

‘Yes... Very well. I trust you would never do so, but please do not do anything indecent with my body.’

Feeling a needless sense of unease, Kristina focused on Anise’s soul.

The switch took place.

Anise knew that, as one of the dead, seizing Kristina’s body or monopolizing it would be an utterly unacceptable transgression.

But there were moments when it could not be helped. For Anise, this was one of them.

THWACK!

A sound heavier than the earlier slap shook the Audience Chamber.

Naturally so. Unlike Kristina, Anise did not slap him. She crushed Euryus’s nose with a tightly clenched fist.

“Gah?!”

Who could have imagined a fist striking his face in this atmosphere? Euryus toppled backward, chair and all.

“Open the highest-grade relic vault.”

“Yes... What?”

“No, there is no need to ask you to open it, is there? I will open it myself. Hand over the key.”

Even as she said that, Anise seized Euryus’s right hand and pulled the platinum ring off his index finger. Having told him to hand it over, she simply took it herself.

“For all I know, you might say that now and do something foolish behind our backs. So I will go to the highest-grade relic vault myself, right now, and inspect the remaining holy relics. I will see them with my own eyes, recover anything I judge should not exist, and perform the sacred rites to send it on its way.”

“... Y-Yes... I under... stand.”

It was an excessive demand, but Euryus could not refuse. Somehow, the nature of the light seemed to have changed. In particular, while looking into those eyes, he could not even conceive of refusing.

“And I will take what I personally need from the highest-grade relic vault, so ask no questions about that.”

“Yes...”

Only after hearing his cowed reply did Anise smile in satisfaction. She shook out her aching wrist and turned, meeting Eugene’s eyes as he stood beside her with a dazed expression.

“What are you staring at?”

“Uh... Hmm... Right. It’s you.”

“Let’s go.”

Anise spread her wings wide and descended. As Raphael slung his greatsword onto his back, he tilted his head at the strange difference and commanding presence he sensed, but still bowed to Anise.

“My lady saint.”

Before they left the Audience Chamber, Beshara, who had been praying for some time, called to Anise in a tearful voice.

“What is it?”

“... Can we... go to heaven? Does heaven truly exist?”

Anise snorted at the question and withdrew her wings.

“Heaven exists, but reaching it requires a great many good deeds.”

“... Ah...!”

“Do you understand what I mean? Being a Pope or a cardinal does not guarantee you a place in heaven.”

As she spoke, Anise opened the closed doors of the Audience Chamber herself.

“If you wish to go to heaven, perform genuinely good deeds.”