Chapter 85 - Damn Reincarnation

Kristina Rogeris

Doynes did not enter the temple with them.

"I am not even the family head. How could I dare inspect the founder's remains?"

He shook his head with a long sigh, and Kristina bowed. Eugene said little, staying quietly by her side.

'Surely they won't pull some bullshit about me not being allowed in after coming all this way.'

Everything had gone so well so far. If he were thrown out at the crucial moment, he would go beyond not believing in God to outright hating him. With that thought, Eugene looked at Gilead's back.

'He must be having a hell of a time.'

Gilead's emphatic declaration earlier that Eugene was his son lingered in his mind. With Gerhard in his life, Eugene simply could not think of Gilead as his father.

Still, he acknowledged that Gilead was a good man, and had felt his consideration and fatherly affection on many occasions. That made him feel sorry for Gilead's position. His so-called eldest son kept dragging his father's and family's names through the mud, and now a saint had come demanding that he open the founder's coffin.

'Family head? Never. Absolutely never.'

Quite apart from his sympathy, this strengthened his resolve once again. He would sooner join the Black Lion Knights than become the family head.

No. He didn't want to join the Black Lion Knights, either. Eugene just wanted to live as he pleased.

"What a mysterious place."

Kristina spoke as they followed Gilead in silence.

"An extradimensional space of this scale. The sky, the fields, the flowers, the temple... It looks magnificent at first glance, but that is only its appearance. Inside the temple itself, there is nothing at all."

"... It was the founder's dying wish," Gilead said quietly.

"His descendants were not to tend his grave or place Lionheart decorations in it. He was not to be worshipped. Nor made into a symbol."

"... Worship and symbolism... It seems he did not wish to become an idol."

"Ordinarily, we should not bring Sir Hamel's statue here, either. But strictly speaking, it is neither something tended by his descendants nor something belonging to Lionheart."

Gilead paused and looked back at Eugene.

"... And my son, a disciple of Senya the Wise and a descendant of the founder, who paid the last tribute at Sir Hamel's memorial, earnestly wished for it. The Council of Elders and I were also in agreement on the matter."

"It is a beautiful thing," Kristina said with a radiant smile. Despite the chilly atmosphere, she did not hesitate to smile.

"A friendship from three hundred years ago is being brought together again. Sir Hamel's tomb, unknown to the world... Surely it was God's will that allowed you to enter it, Sir Eugene."

"... Was it also God's will that Sir Hamel's tomb was desecrated and his corpse disgraced by being made into a death knight?"

Eugene asked with a resentful expression. Kristina slowly shook her head.

"Of course that would not have been God's will. That must be why he used you as a ray of light to illuminate the darkness deep underground, Sir Eugene."

Truly remarkable logic. Eugene gave a hollow laugh and nodded. Even Anise had never invoked God as blatantly as Kristina did.

'And yet I never won a single argument against her.'

Were bullshit logic and a silver tongue basic qualifications for the clergy? Judging by Anise and Kristina, they certainly seemed to be.

'... It really is rather bare.'

Eugene looked around. As Kristina had said, the temple looked grand from outside, but its interior was exceedingly plain. There were no ordinary murals or portraits on the walls, and not a single pattern had been carved into the pillars.

That struck him as all the more characteristic of Vermouth. Eugene recalled Hamel's tomb, which had long since fallen into ruin. Before that, it had probably been a respectable tomb. There had been a statue, a memorial stone, and pillars and walls covered in Anise's prayers and Senya's magic formulas.

But this temple held nothing. No written prayers, no memorial stone. Even Vermouth's stone statue outside the temple bore only his name, written in an austere hand.

Vermouth Lionheart.

The handwriting was Vermouth's, just as Eugene remembered it. Writing your own name, with your own hand, on a statue to stand at your grave... Eugene found it difficult to imagine how that must feel.

"... A moment."

Gilead stopped walking.

A pure white coffin stood in the very center of the temple. Gilead gazed at it for a while, then slowly knelt. Though no one told him to, Eugene knelt as well.

Not to mourn the founder, but a dead comrade... a friend. With complicated emotions stirring within him, Eugene closed his eyes and bowed his head.

Kristina did the same. She settled onto both knees and clasped her hands before her chest in prayer. For a short while, the three of them paid their respects.

Eventually, Gilead rose first. Struggling to quell his surging emotions, he turned to Kristina.

"... Come."

Eugene slowly rose and looked ahead. Gilead and Kristina were approaching the coffin. His heart pounded. He had never imagined he would get to inspect Vermouth's coffin so soon.

'... Please.'

Eugene wished it with all his heart.

'Just be lying in that coffin. An intact corpse, a mummy, rotted away, nothing but bones. I don't care. Just lie there... dead.'

If Vermouth were lying there, he felt he could set aside some of his suspicions about things he desperately did not want to believe.

That Vermouth had brought the Moonlight Sword to Hamel's tomb.

That he had clashed with Senya in the process.

... That he had made... some idiotic promise with the Demon King of Incarceration.

"I will open it."

If you really are lying there dead, that alone will put me at ease.

I don't think your involvement in my reincarnation is something I should blame you for.

But fighting Senya, who went through all that shit with us.

Forcing her into seclusion because of it.

That fucking bastard Incarceration talking about affection, bringing you up, running his mouth as though the two of you were close.

'I...'

I cannot accept it. I don't want to accept it. I don't want to understand. It isn't something I should understand.

You should never have done that. None of the others should have, either, but you, Vermouth—you absolutely should not.

Demon King Slayer. Hero. Great Hero. God of War. All-Master.

Vermouth the Great.

You absolutely should not.

"... Just as I thought."

Kristina let out a long sigh.

Gilead staggered backward.

Eugene closed his wide-open eyes. Blood flowed from the fists he had clenched almost hard enough to crush them. He opened his hands once, then clenched them again, concealing the blood so it would not drip.

"There is nothing here."

CRUNCH

His molars felt as though they would shatter. He thought he wouldn't care if they did. He wanted to throw aside the family, etiquette, everything, and smash the temple to pieces.

No. He no longer wanted to be here.

"... Three hundred years have passed... Perhaps the body did not survive..."

Gilead's voice trembled. But even he could not believe his own words.

"I, too, have heard accounts of saints' remains vanishing through transcendence," Kristina murmured, looking down into the empty coffin.

"... But... if that truly were the case, Vermouth the Great's soul would have entered heaven."

"..."

"At the very least, one thing is certain: Lord Vermouth did not find his rest here."

Gilead's eyes wavered. Unable to form words, he moved his lips soundlessly, looking between the empty coffin and Kristina's face.

"... Are you saying... the founder did not die, but went into hiding?"

"We do not know why, but for now, that is the only conclusion we can draw."

Kristina turned as she spoke. With no trace of a smile on her face, she looked up at the ceiling for a moment.

"Eugene Lionheart."

Her parted lips pronounced his name. Eugene flexed his blood-soaked hands, then raised his head to look at her.

He had suspected this. He had wanted to believe otherwise, but things that could only have been Vermouth's doing were entangled with Eugene's life.

Bringing Hamel's belongings to the main family's Treasury. Defeating Senya. Bringing the Moonlight Sword to Hamel's tomb. No one but Vermouth could have done any of those things.

The question was why he had done them. If his sole purpose had been to reincarnate Hamel, there was no reason to proceed in secret. Senya, Anise, Moron—if Vermouth had explained the circumstances, they would have accepted it, even if they didn't understand.

Vermouth had not done so. And the even more damnable fact was that the Demon King of Incarceration knew about a reincarnation his companions had not even suspected.

All of it made Eugene feel like shit. He did his utmost to control his emotions and keep his killing intent from leaking out.

But he could do nothing about his expression. His face felt awkward and unfamiliar, as though he were wearing a mask. Without realizing it, Eugene raised a hand and touched his cheek. Blood that had yet to lose all its warmth smeared across it.

"... I proclaim the revelation," Kristina continued.

"Eugene Lionheart. From this moment forth, I declare you the Hero who shall succeed Vermouth the Great."

Now.

"This recognition is the will of the God of Light, who delivered the revelation, and has the approval of His Holiness the Pope. Since the Demon King of Incarceration has yet to act beyond issuing his warning, we cannot announce it to the world. But as the saint of the Holy Empire and a witness to the Light, I shall stand beside you."

What the hell was she talking about? Eugene gave a hollow laugh and glared at Kristina. Unable to hide his surprise, Gilead looked between them.

"... The Hero? What on earth..."

"Now that the Demon King of Incarceration has delivered his warning, I believe Sir Eugene's existence is no mere coincidence."

Those words resonated deeply in Gilead's heart. Though bewildered, he thought the same. Eugene Lionheart. The adopted son he had taken in six years ago... possessed an excellence without precedent in Lionheart's three-hundred-year history.

"This is not part of God's revelation, but I... believe that Sir Eugene may be the reincarnation of Vermouth the Great."

Kristina held her cross-shaped wand before her chest and continued.

"If that is so, it would explain why the great hero's soul has not entered heaven. To confront the crisis that will soon befall the world, the hero's soul has been reborn in the body of his descendant."

"... Haha..."

That was quite enough. Eugene gave a hollow laugh at the sheer absurdity.

If fate existed, he must be standing at the very center of its vortex right now.

So what? Fate, a vortex—did being caught in it mean he had to let himself be dragged along blindly? Eugene absolutely refused. He wished he could get one look at the face of this God of Light who had supposedly delivered the revelation. If he was going to spout such ridiculous bullshit...

"At least ask my permission first. Fucking bastard. What? The Hero? What a load of bullshit."

Those words did not stay inside his head; they came out of his mouth. He was not... startled after saying them. He had openly intended them to be heard. Gilead looked horrified, but Eugene was in no mood to spare a thought for his adoptive father's position.

"The Great... Haha! Vermouth the Great's reincarnation? Me? Listen, Auxiliary Bishop Kristina. No, Saint Kristina."

"..."

"Please cut the crap. Who are you to define me as someone else's reincarnation? And just how wonderful is this god you serve, that he can take me, living my life perfectly well, and declare me the Hero or whatever without even asking my consent?"

"... The idea that you are the hero's reincarnation is mine alone. Blame me for that if you must, but please do not ridicule God's revelation as well."

"No. I don't believe in the God of Light anyway, I have no intention of believing in him in the future, and I have no intention of going to heaven. So I'll just do as I please."

Eugene snorted and shook the blood off his hands.

"I'm just me. Eugene Lionheart. If you need a Hero to replace the great founder, get someone else to do it. Pick one of your swarming believers and call them the Hero. If none of them measure up, your wonderful, almighty god can descend and do it himself."

"Sir Eugene."

"I'm not finished. Whatever you say, I have no intention of meekly accepting this idiotic recognition as the Hero. I'm not honored, and I'm not happy about it. I'm me, and this is my life. I'm going to live it however I want."

Having said that, Eugene turned to Gilead.

"I apologize for my language, Patriarch, but my position is clear. Please understand that. And since we're on the subject, I have no intention of becoming the family head instead of Cyan, nor do I want to slog away in the Black Lion Knights. That doesn't mean I'll go around disgracing the family or embarrassing you, so I hope you'll continue to trust and support me as you always have."

"... I... of course... will respect your wishes."

Gilead answered after gathering himself from his shock. Eugene smiled at his reply and rubbed the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.

"So, Saint Kristina. Please convey this to the almighty God of Light."

"... What do you want me to convey—"

"This."

Eugene extended his hand, still not entirely clean of blood, and raised his middle finger.

"And tell him to go fuck himself, too."

Gilead's mouth fell wide open, just when he had finally managed to recover from his shock. Kristina could say nothing, her eyes round and wide. Eugene lowered his outstretched middle finger and turned on his heel.

"I've said everything I have to say, and it's late. I'll be going to bed now."

"... What about the statue?"

Gilead stammered out the question. Eugene laughed, his shoulders shaking.

"... Sir Hamel would not wish to stay in a place where his friend isn't even resting."

Neither the statue nor the memorial stone.

He wanted to leave neither of them in a place like this.