Chapter 96

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Sometimes, even while doing something reckless, you felt certain you would come to no harm. There was no explaining why. It was simply a feeling.

There was no knowing whether more traps lay ahead or whether they had already passed them all. They could die, yet somehow that did not matter.

It was something like ecstasy. The thirty-odd adventurers felt as though they had become one, their spirits soaring so high that they would have no regrets even if they died right then.

Mere darkness could not hope to intimidate them. Come out, demon. We'll run you through.

Several ran with torches in hand. The pounding of thirty-odd pairs of feet against stone echoed chaotically down the corridor.

A large door appeared before Ricard, who was running at the front. Rather than slow down, he sped up and rammed it with his shoulder.

BANG!

A flash of light!

The great door clattered open, and light flooded over him. Ricard squeezed his eyes shut and teetered off balance before finally falling. He felt dirt beneath him.

He sprang to his feet and raised a hand to his brow, squinting as he gradually opened his eyes. His first impression was that he had landed in some sort of garden.

It was an open-air garden enclosed within a building. He had heard that the Salaman people built in this style, though this did not seem to be a deliberate imitation.

Those arriving behind him also squinted for a moment before slowly adjusting to the sunlight.

Looking around, he saw a square space, open to the sky above and bordered by colonnades. Beyond them stood doors leading north, south, east, and west. The door Ricard had just come through was on the eastern side.

"Where are we?"

"Never mind where. What even is this place?"

Marie, who had arrived second, looked around as she spoke. A tree that looked like an oak stood in the middle, with various plants growing around it.

It was autumn, and the leaves were turning yellow and red. A thin layer of fallen leaves already covered the ground. What caught their attention was a small fountain. Its water looked very clear.

"Can we drink this?"

With their retreat cut off, many of them had neither food nor water. Ricard was no exception.

"I'll try it."

One adventurer boldly stepped forward. Before anyone could stop him, he began gulping down the fountain water, evidently thirsty.

Everyone watched him. He looked fine for the moment, at least. Still, there was no telling whether he might fall ill later.

"Let's avoid drinking it if we can."

"Seems fine to me. I'm having some."

"Me too."

Despite Ricard's advice, those who wanted a drink simply helped themselves.

"This is the Garden of Contemplation. The water comes from underground, so poisoning it wouldn't accomplish anything. It should be safe to drink."

Ice spoke. Apparently, he had been here during his time with the church.

No sooner had he finished than everyone, Ricard included, rushed over and drank their fill. They drank until their bellies felt slightly full. What were they going to do if they needed to piss later?

Volka wiped his mouth and asked, "Which way do we go from here?"

"South leads to the training rooms and living quarters. The punishment rooms are to the north, and west is probably the way to the temple where the holy sword is kept."

"What do you want to do?"

Volka put the question to Ricard. His judgment in combat was second to none.

After a moment's quiet thought, Ricard said, "South seems safer. We might be able to join up with the people coming from that direction, and Ice should know the layout well."

"Didn't you say we'd finish this?"

"It was an emergency. I said that to get everyone fired up. We need to adapt as the situation changes."

"Really? But... I actually want to finish this. Anyone feel differently?"

None of the adventurers, scattered around catching their breath after quenching their thirst, raised an objection. They seemed eager to hold on to their exhilaration.

But a moment's respite was precisely when one needed to think carefully and coolly, so Ricard tried to slow things down.

"Marie, some agarwood incense, please."

"Sure. Hold on."

Marie took a small pouch from inside her clothes and tipped a measure of agarwood incense into a hollow at the end of a tube. Fortunately, some of the others had brought torches. She lit it and held it to Ricard's nose.

By now, he was used to drawing in the smoke. Before long, the throbbing pain in his lungs subsided.

Daisy was watching him intently. Had she followed them all the way here too? She was awfully persistent. Or perhaps that desperate.

But now was the time to focus on the situation at hand.

"Lay the wounded down and use potions if you've got any. Let's check our equipment first. Who's missing a weapon?"

The wounded were those who had been hit by arrows earlier, and there were only a few. Several people raised their hands to say they had no weapons. They had broken or lost them during the headlong charge.

Remarkably, not one of them had died.

"Here's what we'll do. I'll go in first. Once I've cleared a path and confirmed it's safe, the next person follows. If a trap or an unexpected ambush kills me, watch from behind and work out what killed me. Then Boribori takes the lead. After him, Ice, then Marie. We'll go in that order. That should get us all the way through."

"..."

Silence fell when Ricard casually volunteered to take the lead, even accounting for his own death. Then everyone started speaking at once.

"Take me with you."

"Who's going to give orders if you die, Riki?"

"Shouldn't we at least go in pairs?"

"We've come this far. Do we really need to split up?"

None of them seemed willing to let Ricard take the risk. He appreciated the sentiment, but he had not volunteered without reason. His eye for detail and his senses were the best among them.

Still, he could not help smiling.

"Then Marie, Bori, Ice, and I will go together, with a little space between us."

They still seemed reluctant, but constantly questioning their leader was no good either. It should be all right if they kept their distance. That would minimize casualties while still allowing them to help one another if necessary.

"You can't go, Riki..."

Everyone turned to Daisy. Their expressions plainly said, Who the hell is she to follow us all the way here and start this shit?

They disliked her for belonging to the church, but the same could be said of Ice. The adventurers merely glared at her without voicing their complaints.

But Ricard was all Daisy had left in the world. Her parents were dead, the church's fate was uncertain, and she had nowhere to go.

Marie did not look at Daisy, but her expression was complicated. She recognized her own pain in the girl, yet disliked her all the same. Sometimes, incompatible feelings could coexist in the human heart.

Having finished inhaling the smoke, Ricard looked at Daisy from where he sat.

"Why do you keep trying to force me to run away?"

"God will rise again. Then everyone will die. How could I just let you die, Riki?"

"Let's say I give in and do exactly what you want. Suppose we escape and live peacefully somewhere quiet. Then I wouldn't be me anymore. The Riki you want so badly wouldn't exist. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Daisy could not understand. To her, prophecy was absolute. What it foretold would inevitably happen. How could she understand someone walking toward certain death?

Her heart ached so badly that tears rose in her eyes, and she tried desperately to swallow them back. But it was plain for everyone to see.

"... Then I'm coming too..."

"Hey, that's..."

"Riki, wait."

Unexpectedly, Marie stepped in. Like Ricard, she was strong against the strong, but weak against the weak. And because she understood how Daisy felt, she could not bring herself to be cruel.

"You can come. I don't know if you'll believe me, but I understand how you feel. Just know this: I can't guarantee your safety."

That was as far as she could go. It was the absolute limit of the kindness Marie could offer.

Perhaps Daisy felt humiliated at receiving consideration from her rival. Perhaps she pitied her own plight, or perhaps she was still thinking only of Ricard. Whatever the reason, she simply bowed her head as tears dripped from her eyes.

Ricard was not at ease either. He forced himself to turn away and stood up.

Even a deep breath no longer hurt. If possible, he wanted to finish this before the medicine wore off.

He walked past the columns to the western door and kicked it hard.

BANG!

The door flew open, revealing a narrow passage whose ceiling, floor, and walls were all made of brick. Anyone could see it looked ripe for traps.

Ricard sharpened his concentration, bringing his senses to their peak, then stepped inside. Marie, Ice, and Boribori followed in that order, leaving a little distance between them.

Daisy followed them all the way as well. Did she intend to die with Ricard if he fell?

In any case, Ricard walked neither quickly nor slowly, lightly trailing a hand along the wall. Then he spotted a man standing ahead. Without a word, the man drew his sword, and a beam of light sprang from it.

"Riki, switch with me," Marie said from behind him.

"No. I can handle this."

Ricard drew the sword at his waist and walked toward his opponent. There was little room to dodge in the narrow passage. Could he withstand the man's blade when he was not a Sword Master himself?

Unexpectedly, Ricard struck first. His opponent swung to meet his blade, as though intending to cut through sword and wielder alike.

But Ricard's sword was a sacrifice. He let it be severed, twisting his body as he closed in. He was certain that if it came to grappling, he would win.

CLANG!

Ricard's sword broke. At the same instant, his left hand clamped around his opponent's forearm.

At this distance, the man should have abandoned his sword and grappled too. Strangely, however, the church's Sword Masters lacked adaptability and broader combat skills beyond swordsmanship.

It was the classic failing of someone who had trained only in a practice hall, with little real combat experience.

Having become Sword Masters through sinister, grotesque methods, they were little more than empty husks. Not that becoming one that way was easy either.

Ricard yanked the man's arm toward him and delivered a headbutt, shattering his nose. At the same time, he seized his throat with his right hand and crushed it in his grip.

CRUNCH.

Having killed his opponent in an instant, Ricard took the man's sword for himself. If mine breaks, I'll just use yours. As befitted a Sword Master's weapon, it was of quite good quality.

He stepped on the corpse and continued forward until his next opponent came into view. Holding the longsword in one hand, Ricard extended his empty hand as though gauging the distance.

His opponent found him bizarre.

His swordsmanship had been learned entirely through actual combat on the battlefield, so his stance changed from moment to moment. To the uninitiated, it looked full of obvious openings and devoid of any proper foundation.

Yet this was the swordsmanship of the god they worshiped. They simply failed to recognize it, even when it was right before their eyes.

This time, Ricard feigned a grapple, then drew his dagger, stabbed the man's throat, and sliced it open. Once again, he took his opponent's sword and pressed on.

Then he encountered a third enemy. Having watched his comrades die, the man suddenly pressed a brick in the wall. At once, the walls on either side began slowly closing in.

GRRRRIND...

"Huh?"

"Riki?"

His friends' voices came from behind him. But his opponent seemed resolved to die and had no intention of getting out of the way. He meant to take them all with him.

Urgency seized Ricard, and he charged straight ahead. There was no time for clever improvisation. He committed to an attack that would trade a lesser wound for a fatal blow.

The man's sword flashed toward Ricard's abdomen, but his breastplate offered such extraordinary protection that the blade failed to pierce it completely and was deflected to the side.

SCREECH!

At that instant, Ricard drove his reverse-gripped dagger into the man's face with the full momentum of his charge.

He quickly shoved him aside and sprinted forward without hesitation. The walls were still closing in. His side burned, but he was in too much of a hurry to register the pain.

Fortunately, the exit was close. As he burst out of the passage, his friends emerged one after another. Daisy proved a faster runner than expected, and just after she made it out, the two walls met completely.

The space they had entered was impossibly grand. Enormous pillars stood in long rows on either side.

Delicate carvings adorned them, every one depicting suffering people or some other horrific scene.

Ricard examined his wound. The side of his true-silver armor had been sliced open, and blood was welling out through the gap.

"Riki!"

Alarmed, Marie hurriedly sat him down. She removed his armor, tore open his clothes, and poured potion onto the wound. Then she tried to make him drink the rest, but he turned his head away.

"That'll put me to sleep. I think we're almost there."

In truth, the wound was not life-threatening. With a potion, his survival was assured. But under the circumstances, it was hard to know what to do.

"Just drink it. We might be the first ones here. You can take a nap."

Marie insistently pressed the mouth of the potion bottle to his lips as she spoke. In the end, Ricard had no choice but to drink.

He sat against a pillar, catching his breath, and soon drowsiness overwhelmed him. As his eyes drifted shut, someone's voice reached his ears.

An unfamiliar man in the vast corridor was speaking in their direction. He was the one in the tall, pointed hood they had first seen in the trapped corridor.

He was addressing Ice.

"Traitor."

He pulled off his pointed hood, and Ice froze at the sight of his face. This was the priest who had trained him as a child. The very man who had made him spit on his dead younger sibling.

The inexplicable anxiety Ice had been feeling erupted into a flood of trauma. He could not think at all. He gasped for breath, struggling even more than Ricard with his diseased lungs.

"Is this what I taught you?"

"Who the hell are you?" Boribori demanded, a warning in his voice.

But the man ignored Boribori and addressed Ice like a ghost from his past.

"This is your last chance. His resurrection is at hand. Come to me. Then both you and your sibling will be saved. Otherwise, you will suffer in hell for eternity. And it will be your fault that your sibling is cast into hell as well."

"Stop talking such utter bullshit!"

Marie, who had been listening in silence, lost her temper and drew her sword to kill him. But just then—

CLANG!

Ice drew his sword like lightning and knocked Marie's blade aside. Struck from a direction she had never expected, she staggered.

She and Boribori stared at him in disbelief.

With a vacant expression, Ice stood facing his friends as though protecting the false priest. His sword point was aimed at them. Hadn't he been saved? Was he wavering now, after all this?

"Hey..."

Boribori called to Ice, looking utterly devastated. His voice shook, as though he could not believe this was happening.

Disappointment and betrayal crept up from deep within his chest. It felt as though all the time they had spent as friends had been a lie.

"Hah, hah, hah..."

Ice could say nothing. He only gasped for breath.

"That's right. Ice, kill those unbelievers. It matters not if you fall in battle. Yours will be a martyr's death, and you will enter heaven."

Yet even in his current state, Ice could not bring himself to charge at his friends. He seemed to be suffering through a terrible inner conflict. Even so, he did not lower his sword.

Boribori felt as though his heart were being torn apart. How could he do this? How could any human being do this? They had accepted him even though he was a heretic. They had protected him to the very end, even when the church was being persecuted.

Anger began to rise in him. He was so furious he could almost cry.

"Marie, take Riki away. I'll kill him."

"Bori..."

Boribori addressed Ice.

"Honestly, I didn't like you from the moment we met. But I was grateful to you too, you know? The thing is, Ice..."

His eyes reddened as he slowly drew his sword. Memories of their days together flashed through his mind.

"You're no match for me anymore."