Chapter 90 - Damn Reincarnation

Leaving the Castle

His wish not to draw it was genuine, but with Kristina and Gilead watching him with shining eyes, he could hardly just pretend. In the end, Eugene tightened his grip on the Holy Sword, desperately hoping his intuition was wrong.

It wasn't. Although the Holy Sword looked deeply embedded, it slid free with barely any effort. Swallowing the curses rising in his throat, Eugene stared at it for a moment.

“Oh... Oooh... Oooh...!”

Gilead couldn't conceal his emotion. His body trembled as though he had been electrocuted, then he clenched his fists.

‘I am standing at the heart of a new chapter in history.’

The God of Light and the saint had acknowledged Eugene as the Hero. But Gilead wasn't a believer in the God of Light, so the sight of the Holy Sword being drawn for the first time in three hundred years moved him far more than that declaration.

“Ah...!”

Kristina was even more deeply moved than Gilead. She immediately dropped to her knees, clasped her hands, and offered a prayer.

Standing at the center of it all, Eugene concealed his displeasure. Light was flowing into the Holy Sword. Opening his senses fully, he felt how that light acted upon it.

Divine power.

An utterly nebulous force that nevertheless undeniably existed. Light that only priests and holy knights who worshipped a god could manifest as power.

‘I see. The Holy Sword is the catalyst.’

Eugene didn't worship any god. If they existed, they existed; if they didn't, that was fine too. That had been his attitude, but lately he'd had to listen to all this fucking nonsense about revelations and whatnot.

‘Worship, my ass. I despise him.’

And yet Eugene could feel the light dwelling in the Holy Sword. He didn't possess a shred of faith, but he was conscious of its divine power.

He fed mana into the Holy Sword. As though following the movement of his mana, the divine power turned into light and wrapped around the blade. He had created sword force out of divine power rather than mana.

“Ah!”

Still kneeling, Kristina let out a cry of admiration. Gazing at the light surrounding the Holy Sword, she spoke in a trembling voice.

“What glorious radiance...!”

“Hmm...”

Eugene paid no attention to her admiration. His entire awareness was focused on the Holy Sword.

This radiance was more than merely glorious. Eugene knew very well just how powerful this needlessly ostentatious sword was against the creatures of darkness, and how utterly it opposed them.

‘A power distinct from mana.’

He didn't have a shred of faith, but simply being the Holy Sword's master let him wield divine power this potent. He had already acquired more weapons that devoured huge amounts of mana, yet the Holy Sword consumed none.

In other words, it was an incredibly fuel-efficient weapon. Honestly, that pleased him.

‘Though it doesn't look like it'll be satisfying to swing.’

He had used all sorts of weapons since his previous life, but never a sword so far removed from what a weapon ought to be. Rather than something to wield in battle, the Holy Sword was a ceremonial blade better suited to knighthoods and rituals.

Still, its edge was sharp. He probably wouldn't use it often, but it was certainly worth keeping as insurance.

“Sir Eugene, do you hear anything like a voice?”

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

Eugene furrowed his brows at Kristina's question.

“Altair, the Holy Sword. Long ago, the God of Light descended upon this land and forged that sword himself.”

The founding myth of the Holy Empire of Yuras.

Long, long ago, before civilization had even begun to emerge on the continent, the world was in utter chaos.

There were no Demon Kings in that age. No distinctions had yet been drawn between demons, demonic beasts, and monsters. They were simply inhuman creatures that devoured humans. That was what people called them.

Compared to these creatures, humans were pitifully weak. The fires they kindled could burn things and cook meat, but they could not illuminate the darkness that arrived after sunset. In that mythical age, flames gave heat but no light.

All monsters were born from darkness. Night, after the sun had set, belonged to them. The frail humans banded together to resist, but it was no contest. The more humans were hunted, the longer the nights grew and the more savage the monsters became, until laughter gave way to weeping.

Just as all hope was about to turn to despair, light descended from the heavens. A god came down to earth. He illuminated the darkness and gave brightness to flames that had previously held only heat.

The founding myth of the Holy Empire of Yuras was arrogant beyond measure.

They believed the world had only been able to endure because the God of Light had descended. They claimed that all other gods were his children.

“To illuminate the darkness, the God of Light fashioned a sword from his own flesh and blood. Altair is his first child, and the most radiant torch he left behind for this world.”

That was merely Yuras's myth. Every country had its own. But Kristina, a saint, had no intention of respecting those other myths.

“In other words, God's will dwells within Altair. Three hundred years ago... Vermouth the Great became its master and followed God's revelations.”

“Hah...”

Dozens of objections came to mind, but Eugene kept quiet and listened.

“The hero was able to overcome all the hardships he encountered on his travels because Altair showed him the right path. Without its revelations... even Vermouth the Great could not have defeated three Demon Kings.”

“Hah... Hahaha.”

He had intended to listen quietly, but he couldn't. Eugene laughed in disbelief, and Gilead laughed along with him.

“If what you say is true, Lady Kristina, our founder just went ‘hiya, hiya’ and fought however the Holy Sword told him to?”

“He would not have gone ‘hiya, hiya,’ but he surely received the Holy Sword's assistance.”

“How would you know that, my saint? You weren't even born three hundred years ago.”

“Neither were you, Sir Eugene, were you?”

You impudent little thing. Eugene barely managed to swallow the words.

‘What an artful fabrication. The Holy Sword's assistance? It did make a very good torch.’

Vermouth had never once mentioned receiving revelations from the Holy Sword. Even Anise had never said it possessed such an ability.

“Well, neither of us was born three hundred years ago, so we can't know the truth. But who exactly told you all that?”

“It has been handed down in sacred tradition.”

“Sacred tradition...?”

“Surely you know this as well, Sir Eugene? Vermouth the Great, the founder of Lionheart, is revered as one of the Holy Empire's saints. Don't tell me that, despite being a Lionheart, you've never read the Book of Vermouth?”

“Uh... Hmm...”

Instead of answering immediately, Eugene glanced at Gilead. Gilead cleared his throat softly and spoke.

“Well... the Book of Vermouth is so heavily religious that we do not use it in the Lionheart family.”

“How could you...!”

“I did... read it once when I was young, but its contents were so absurd...”

He led refugees to the sea, then raised his sword while reciting sacred words, and the sea parted...

The book was full of bullshit like that. It was far more ridiculous than the fairy tale.

‘... There certainly... was something like that in it.’

Vermouth, my apostle. I shall lend strength to your arm myself, so raise God's light and illuminate the darkness.

There had to be a limit to bullshit. The Book of Vermouth was shunned not only by the Lionhearts, but by historians as well. It was considered less credible than a fairy tale written for children.

“... So... you hear no revelations at all from the Holy Sword, Sir Eugene?”

“Hmm...”

Eugene glared at the Holy Sword and tried concentrating.

“... Oh.”

“Ah! Did you hear a revelation?”

“A voice just spoke in my head. I'm not sure if it was a revelation, though...”

“What did the voice say?”

“It told Lady Kristina to shut her mouth.”

Kristina's eyes twitched. Gripping her skirts tightly, she rose to her feet.

“Do not invoke God's name to insult me.”

“I said that first, didn't I? I'm not sure it was a revelation.”

“Then are you saying your head is full of malicious remarks about me? In my opinion, it seems certain that a devil has taken up residence in your mind.”

“A devil is going a bit far... Ever since I was little, my mind has sometimes gone haywire, and I've felt powerful urges I couldn't control... Just... ugh... just like now. You... fucking bitch.”

“Pardon?”

“Perhaps there's another me inside me, someone who isn't myself. That other Eugene Lionheart is trying to say wicked things through the Holy Sword's voice...”

“Are you mocking me right now?”

The corners of Kristina's mouth twisted upward. Eugene ostentatiously tapped his own head and slipped the Holy Sword into his cloak.

“Sometimes my mouth moves against my wishes.”

“That is a serious illness. If you permit it, Sir Eugene, I will personally treat your condition.”

“An illness of the mind must be cured by oneself. As a descendant of Vermouth the Great, I, Eugene Lionheart, do not wish to lean upon you for my own weakness, my saint.”

“What exactly do you want me to do, then?”

“Let's get going.”

His cloak billowing, Eugene walked past Kristina.

“It troubles me to let you leave without even saying goodbye to Gerhard.”

Gilead had come to see him off at the warp gate. He looked ruefully toward the distant annex, and Eugene felt grateful for his consideration.

“Please come up with a suitable excuse for me, sir.”

“You don't even know when you'll return. Even I cannot lie to Gerhard for years on end.”

“Then please give Father this letter on the last day of the year.”

Eugene handed Gilead the letter he had written the previous day.

“I'll be fine. I'm confident I can protect myself anywhere, and that great god supposedly promised to watch over my journey as well, didn't he?”

“Hmm...”

Gilead had more faith in Eugene's abilities than in the God of Light's protection.

‘... And Saint Kristina is going with him, too...’

“... Eugene. I believe in you.”

“Thank you.”

Eugene smiled and extended a hand toward Gilead.

“... It's rather late to start calling you this, but may I call you Uncle?”

“... What...?”

“My father is still alive and well... and you're a few years older than him. So I'd like to call you Uncle—”

He had only extended his hand for a handshake. Instead, Gilead pulled him into a fierce embrace.

“Whatever you call me, I have thought of you as my son for the past six years.”

“Th... thank you.”

He had said it because he was grateful for Gilead's trust and felt guilty about taking so many weapons from the Treasury. But Gilead's response was far too passionate.

“Take care of yourself, and may you achieve the purpose of your journey, my son.”

“Yes... Uncle. Please stay well.”

The warm embrace ended. At least Gilead didn't burst into tears like Gerhard. He merely saw Eugene off with his back straight and his chest proudly raised. Still, that shining gaze weighed on Eugene as heavily as Gerhard's tears.

Even so, it wasn't a bad feeling to have someone see him off. In his previous life... he hadn't often received farewells like this.

“There are no operating warp gates in Samar,” Kristina said. “From Kiel's southern gateway, we will have to travel on foot. Are you aware of that?”

“More or less.”

“Do you have no plan?”

“Isn't that true of you too, my saint?”

“I have prepared more diligently than you.”

Kristina gave a faint smile as she spoke.

“First, it would be best not to use your identification.”

“Because it'll attract attention?”

“Yes.”

“Forging identification won't be easy. Especially with the strict checks at the border.”

Once they crossed the border, however, identification would no longer matter. Samar's law enforcement was so poor that it was considered a lawless land, and it didn't use the identification documents shared by the continent's nations.

“Do not worry about getting through the inspection.”

Kristina withdrew her hand from inside her robe and extended it toward Eugene. She was holding a blank identification document.

“The Holy Empire's priests travel all over the continent. On those journeys, high-ranking priests often attract unwanted attention.”

“So they carry forged identification?”

“Using it will not get you into trouble.”

Eugene accepted it with a chuckle. Before they passed through the warp gate, Kristina explained how to use the blank document.

The process was neither difficult nor time-consuming. He pressed his thumb, with a bead of blood on it, against the document and spoke the name he would use as an alias. A new identification document was created immediately.

“I've made it, but isn't this still identification issued by the Holy Empire?”

“That is precisely why our identities are guaranteed. Sir Eugene, we are entering Samar as missionaries.”

“You're not actually planning to convert the natives of Samar, are you?”

“I would try if possible, but unfortunately, Samar's natives do not respect the God of Light.”

Kristina spoke with a rueful smile. That was indeed the case. Zealous priests who served their gods went to Samar to proselytize every year, and most never returned.

“Since you said you would go to Samar, I have done some research of my own.”

“And did you learn anything?”

“Elves are occasionally sighted in Samar... but I am told that even those elves wander about, unable to return to their territory.”

Kristina pulled up the hood of her robe.

“For the past few years, dark elves from Helmuth have been coming in and contacting the wandering elves. If you wish to find the elven village, you will have to attempt contact with those wanderers, just as the dark elves do.”

Only a few days had passed since he'd announced his intention to go to Samar. For her to have completed her own investigation in so little time, and from Black Lion Castle at that... being a saint was evidently quite convenient.

‘... Dark elves.’

Eugene grimaced and ruffled his hair. Each time his fingers ran through it, the gray strands turned black. He even removed the Lionheart crest from his uniform, then straightened his cloak.

‘I don't have any good memories of them.’

Three hundred years ago, while traveling through Helmuth, he had come close to death countless times.

Among the most memorable occasions, apart from his battles with the Demon Kings... was the time Incarceration's Sword had nearly sliced his face apart.

And before that...

‘Iris.’

The adopted daughter of Fury.

The dark elf known as the Rakshasa.