Chapter 23: The Grand Cathedral (4)
“……Let go.”
Monika said in a groan-mixed voice.
“This hand……, let go!”
“I cannot.”
Abel was gripping Monika's prosthetic arm firmly. Monika, struggling to break free from Abel's grasp. She shook her dangling body with all her might, but Abel didn't even budge. He was just staring at the blade that had sprouted from the prosthetic arm.
“I told you I would teach you the duties of a Holy Knight.”
Abel whispered, looking down at Monika's face, which was covered in tears. The prosthetic arm, which had been thrashing like a wild beast, had become docile at some point. As the blade, which had been sticking out as if feigning sharp teeth, was being retracted, Abel let out a faint sigh.
“A Holy Knight focuses on the purification of monsters, or the rooting out of apostates. It is rare for them to intervene in war. For that is the duty of the knights.”
Do you understand what I mean, Monika.
Abel asked, staring at Monika's wet gaze.
There was no answer. Therefore, he continued.
“The number of Holy Knights is absurdly small compared to knights. It may be due to the rarity of the population born with divine power, but it would be more correct to consider it because they are easy to die.”
A monster is not an opponent that can be faced with physical strength alone, and an apostate is not an opponent that can be broken through with mental strength alone.
The body of a monster was bizarre, as if mocking the imagination of the main gods, and the schemes of an apostate were contemptuous, as if counting the bottom of ethics.
“Monika Lohengrin, your body is a mess right now, and……”
Abel looked Monika up and down.
She was truly a wreck. It was because she had rolled on the stone floor to restrain her prosthetic arm, and had resisted to the point of tearing off her fingernails.
“Your mind doesn't seem to be right either.”
The outline of Monika's expression was captured in Abel's blackish-blue eyes. The outline of a face, as if it had lost its soul. To Monika, who was staring blankly at her own afterimage, Abel's taunting voice was engraved.
“It must be just the prosthetic arm.”
Abel's tone, as if making a joke.
“Among the things that make you up, the only part that is sound is probably this prosthetic arm.”
“The prosthetic arm……, is not my body.”
My right arm is……, gone…….
A voice leaking out from between Monika's lips.
Monika rolled her eyes towards Abel's back. A writhing shadow. Her mother, who had been knocked away by Abel's fist, was getting up.
──Yes, that's right.
That person is my mother.
Monika thought with a dazed expression. A strange fragrance wafted from somewhere, then seeped into Monika and began to rummage through her mind. And so, she muttered as if drunk.
“I……, would never try to harm my mother. So this prosthetic arm cannot be my body. It tried to stab my mother……, and fired cannonballs on its own……, and that's why this prosthetic arm is……”
Wrong.
It's wrong, Monika whispered.
“That is not so.”
Abel asserted steadfastly.
“I do not give you something that is wrong.”
The strength drained from Abel's hand, which had been holding the prosthetic arm. Monika's body, landing on the stone floor. It collapsed without energy. Monika lifted her head towards Abel. Behind Abel, her mother's shadow was being cast towards Monika.
“I would have said. That prosthetic arm is connected to your nervous system. It moves in response to your thoughts. To try and suppress the prosthetic arm is also your judgment, but to have made the prosthetic arm run wild is also a result based on your instincts.”
Your mother is dead. You cannot meet her.
The prosthetic arm moved because it knew that.
Abel said so.
“Monika, get up now.”
Meanwhile, her mother's voice lingered in Monika's ear.
“This place is too shabby. Let's go to a good place together. To a place that is safe, and where we can rest.”
Her mother's hand, extended towards Monika.
Monika stared at it blankly. She couldn't take it. She just pressed down on the prosthetic arm with her trembling left hand. Fearing that it might run wild again.
‘My mother is……, dead.’
Monika thought with her head bowed.
‘……No, she's not dead.’
Dead. Not dead. Dead. Not dead.
She tore at her hair as if telling fortunes with flower petals. My mother is standing before my eyes right now, her voice can be heard, I can talk to her, and the smell…….
That's right, this smell. Monika looked around. This tingling smell that was stroking the bridge of her nose is, what on earth……,
“You must not be deluded by your senses, Monika.”
Abel said, tilting his head to the side.
He glanced at Ion Blanche, who was reaching out her hand towards Monika. Ion Blanche met Abel's gaze, then wore a playful smile and brought her index finger to her lips. Glaring at her, Abel opened his mouth.
“All five senses you are feeling right now are lies. You must not be swayed by them. And above all, this smell……”
Abel's brow furrowed.
The terrible fragrance that filled the stone chamber. It was not difficult to guess its source. It must be a product of black magic with effects such as hypnosis, delusion, and brainwashing.
Destroying it was also easy for Abel. All he had to do was mobilize a few spells. In fact, there was no need for that. It would be enough to draw his beloved sword and cut down the apostate right away. But Abel did not act. All of this was part of the training, and it was only right that he should guide Monika to overcome it on her own.
“Do you not think this smell is strange.”
Just, offering a little help.
That was why Abel asked Monika.
“The smell……”
Monika mulled over Abel's words.
That's right. The musty, sweet smell of the incense that had been filling the stone chamber was gone. The smell that had covered it was excessively sweet. As if it were not of this world. As if to manipulate her into not doubting a non-existent vanity.
“Your mother is dead, Monika.”
Abel declared in a subdued voice.
“You can never see her again. Not only can you not hear her voice, but you also won't be able to talk to her. Even if you were to be embraced by the woman you see before you now, you wouldn't be able to feel her scent at all.”
The dead are not sensed in that way.
Because they must be sensed with emotion.
A sense of loss. That is the proper part to resurrect the dead. Not the schemes of an apostate, nor the miracles of a main god, but the sense of loss of the one left behind is what clearly recalls the dead.
Do you understand, Monika.
You can bring your mother back to life.
And not only that. Your father as well, you can even restore your hometown.
Sufficiently. To an extent that is more than enough.
Haven't you always done so.
On Monika's cheek, listening to such a chiding from Abel,
‘This is…….’
Tuk, and.
The palm of the prosthetic arm, touching.
‘It's……, stroking me.’
The coldness that made up the prosthetic arm caressed Monika. It wasn't just cold. It was different from before, when it had been thrashing roughly. Gently, and meticulously. The prosthetic arm gestured as if encouraging Monika.
‘So that's what it was.’
Monika gained insight.
The power of the prosthetic arm was Monika's mind. Not oil, not magic, but Monika's thoughts were what made the prosthetic arm move. A thought can be incorrect, but the prosthetic arm could not malfunction. The reason it had fired a cannonball in the hallway was……,
‘To protect me from danger.’
Because the thought that I must survive had taken root in my mind.
The reason it had drawn its blade at her mother was……,
‘Because I knew.’
In the mind of the master, which had been messed up by black magic, the prosthetic arm operated based on the thought that was most deeply rooted. After distinguishing which thought was right or wrong, it had moved in response to the most distinct emotion.
‘A sense of loss.’
That was the very essence of her mind.
“Mother……”
Monika stared blankly at her mother's face.
“Mother, my mother……”
She extended her prosthetic arm towards her mother's hand.
With the tip of her prosthetic arm, she stroked her mother's skin. A pleasant sound, like the intake of breath of a newborn baby, was engraved. Monika moved her prosthetic arm gently as if it were her own hand, then,
“My mother is……, dead.”
Kkwaak──!
She pulled her mother's wrist as it was.
A seething fury, grinding between Monika's teeth, welled up. The prosthetic arm, responding to this, pressed down with a force that seemed it would crush her mother's flesh.
“My mother is dead, and my father is also dead. The neighbors who would greet me in the early morning, and the elders who would awkwardly pat my head are also dead. Even a single blade of grass that had tickled my feet has disappeared, and even the roots of the giant tree that had been deeply embedded in the ground have been extinguished.”
There is nothing. Not a single thing is left.
A sense of loss, as vast as a void, surrounded Monika.
And from that, she righted her heart.
“You bastard……, you can't take it away.”
Monika's gaze was sharply honed.
“My pain is mine and mine alone, and……”
This distinct sense of loss, engraved in every pain point, is……,
“I won't let anyone take it away.”
Because it can only be felt through that.
It is vivid even with my eyes closed. It is clear even with my ears blocked. Because only such a precious pain, which makes me talk even though I know it won't reach, will make me feel the lost things.
“My, my.”
A sneering smile took root on her mother's lips.
“It's not easy to overcome black magic with pure mental strength alone. How truly admirable.”
While her mother's form distorted along with the slick compliment,
“Step back, Monika.”
──Hwiik!
Abel's beloved sword bisected the space between Monika and her mother.
Monika, who had quickly retracted her prosthetic arm, stood up. Abel recited a cast with his back to Monika. As Abel's lips moved, the magic circles that had been filling the stone chamber were revealed. Ominous patterns, scribbled in red. Monika's mother, who had been watching the magic circles being neutralized. No……,
“Excellent.”
Vincent Tremblay revealed his original form.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vincent Tremblay. Please, call me Tremblay.”
It was a bizarre form.
Without body hair, without muscles. A Sensory Stone was just embedded in a monotonous body shaped like Tremblay's. While the magic veins located in the body, which was nothing more than a model, stood out,
“To think you would resurrect me in this way. I don't know where to put myself.”
Tremblay let out a sigh, examining his own body.
“The body is a golem's, and the power source is a Sensory Stone. The current me is just an imitation. In this state, I won't even be able to last a day. There's a limit to profaning the deceased.”
“Shut up!”
Monika shouted.
“You have no right to say such things.”
Monika, who had straightened her posture and stood beside Abel.
Beyond Abel's beloved sword, aimed at Tremblay, the prosthetic arm, with its blade sticking out, was positioned, heated with anger.
“My, my. It seems the lady's feelings are hurt. Please don't mind it. I was just playing a prank instead of a greeting.”
Tremblay shrugged his shoulders.
“From the looks of it, you seem to be a student at CIAR, miss. Wouldn't it be a courtesy to reveal our names to each other? Believe it or not, I was also a professor at CIAR.”
Isn't that right, sir?
Tremblay's question was directed at Abel.
“You look like a Holy Knight. Could it be that you are the professor appointed as my successor? How delightful. To think I would see a junior in a place like this……”
“I am Abel Argento. And this is……”
At the moment Abel opened his mouth with a stoic expression,
“Monika Lohengrin!”
Monika chimed in and shouted.
Abel glanced down at Monika. Then he continued.
“Vincent Tremblay, your artifact will no longer work. And you……”
“Will be facing none other than me!”
Abel tilted his head.
“Do not interrupt what I was about to say, Monika.”
“I thought your mouth would hurt. You said something similar at Tarkan's base too.”
Monika looked up at Abel.
“Two-Tongued Tarkan, your men will die by my hand.”
For a moment, Monika's expression became as stoic as Abel's.
“And you will face this child. That's what you said, right?”
Monika's smile, appearing on her dust-covered face. Abel, who was looking at it, let out a sigh mixed with a laugh.
That's correct. Whispering so, Abel sheathed his beloved sword. Tremblay, who had been observing the retreating Abel, crossed his arms.
“What are you doing now, sir? Could it be that this girl and I are going to fight?”
“That is correct.”
Is there a problem, and.
Abel asked back, reviewing Monika's stance.
“There are many problems. Although I've become like this, I belong to a high-risk case among apostates. And above all, this place seems to be a stone chamber in a catacomb……”
Not for torture, not for interrogation,
and certainly not for dissection,
did you reconstruct me to be an opponent for a girl?
At such a question from Tremblay, Abel obediently nodded his head.
“Do not be disappointed. Torture and interrogation, as well as dissection, will be bestowed after you face this child.”
“This is like a sewer rat caught in a trap. Killing the girl and killing you, and even if I escape this stone chamber, it'll still be the middle of a catacomb……”
Wouldn't it be better to just commit suicide?
Tremblay muttered, flicking his index finger.
“Of course……, I have no intention of doing so.”
──Gwoong, and.
A black sphere rising from Tremblay's hand.
“Thank you, my lady! Thanks to you being deluded, I've restored a bit of my power. It's a shabby level compared to what I had in life, but just seeing this abyss again is enough to leave me with no regrets.”
The devouring of souls!
The renewal of forbidden knowledge!
That is the very desire of the apostates!
Tremblay's laughter-filled shout echoed in the stone chamber.
“So, very well!”
Tremblay's Catalyst, aimed straight ahead.
“I will gladly face you! It's a body that will collapse soon anyway. To enjoy black magic even once more will be a funeral song for myself!”
Monika's expression crumpled.
Even though she didn't know the identity of the sphere clearly, she could easily sense its source. The faces flickering on the pitch-black surface. The cacophony of sobs that scratched at her ears. It was undoubtedly from those that Monika knew.
“It is Ectoplasm.”
Abel explained, speaking into Monika's ear.
“Warlocks extort the souls of divine power holders and use them as a power source. The identity of that sphere is that, woven into the form of a Catalyst.”
“Are you saying that……, is made of my soul?”
“No need to be agitated.”
Abel's hand rested on Monika's shoulder.
“You overcame the black magic quickly. The slight damage to your soul will recover with just a few days of rest.”
So, Monika,
Follow my instructions from now on.
At Abel's words, Monika nodded her head.
“Tremblay's body is ultimately a golem's body. It just acts based on the magic left in the Sensory Stone, and most of the abilities he had in life have been lost. That is why he deluded you as soon as he formed his ego. To extort your soul and use it as a power source.”
Monika understood.
Tremblay was not resurrected.
He was replicated. In a very crude way.
In a state like a wooden doll with an ego.
“Various functions are installed in your prosthetic arm. This is a good opportunity to check them.”
There's probably no need to explain them one by one.
If you think it, the prosthetic arm will follow.
Abel said, gripping Monika's prosthetic arm.
“You must end it in one breath, Monika.”
Abel's breath stroked Monika's side.
“Black magic is focused on collapsing the mind and extorting the soul. That is precisely why. A battle with an apostate takes on the aspect of a speed battle.”
Abel directed the blade that had sprouted from the prosthetic arm in the correct direction. After correcting the weight on Monika's body, he offered a light praise.
“Not a bad stance. You've practiced hard.”
“……Thank you.”
Monika steadfastly looked forward.
In the center of her hardened vision was the prosthetic arm.
“The prosthetic arm is ultimately just a tool. It just replaces your right arm, it cannot become the right arm itself. It's your freedom to give it a value beyond a tool. But remember this. You must not fear a tool. A navigator who distrusts his compass will only get lost.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
Good, and.
Abel's hand, lightly pushing Monika's back.
“──Go.”
“Hraaap!”
Monika's foot, kicking off the stone floor.
Abel watched, gripping the hilt of his beloved sword.
The lantern that had been illuminating the stone chamber swayed. Watching the quickly running Monika, Tremblay, who had been shaking his head, held out his Catalyst.
<I am the fang of the hanged man.>
Tremblay's cast echoed.
A bundle of black fangs, fired from the flickering Catalyst.
It was ‘Fang of the Dead’, a black magic corresponding to the beginner's course.
‘I have to dodge.’
Monika thought, biting her lower lip.
She twisted her left leg to brake her body. As she was, she leaped up to evade the exploding fangs.
“Excellent, my lady!”
Tremblay did not miss the gap. He tilted his Catalyst towards Monika, who was about to touch the ground. The firing ‘Fang of the Dead’. Monika extended her prosthetic arm, staring at it.
‘I have to protect myself.’
Paseut, and.
The lower arm part of the prosthetic arm opened in a diagonal shape. White particles scattered. It was the pollen of the Porginay, but Monika could not identify it.
‘That doesn't matter.’
The black fangs, corroding and settling on the pollen.
Monika thought, pushing them away with her left arm. It's fine to put off identifying the properties of the tool. Even a rock can become a deadly weapon depending on one's mindset. What's important is just what kind of thought one has. I have a tool, and deciding on its use is nothing more than a matter of the heart. Monika believed so without a doubt.
<O children who sing while holding a severed head!>
Tremblay shouted, gripping his Catalyst.
A protective barrier woven in the shape of a skin began to surround Tremblay.
<A dead fetus cannot tilt the scales!>
A sound of stamping feet that followed the cast. The stone chamber began to stir.
No, that's not it.
Monika judged, stumbling. The stone chamber was as it was. What was shaking was just her sensory system, deluded by black magic. My head is dizzy. It's like the middle of an earthquake wave. Monika lowered her stance, clenching her teeth. Three steps forward. The distance to reach Tremblay.
‘I have to reach.’
Monika thought, extending her prosthetic arm.
‘Reach, reach, reach.’
It was not a command to the prosthetic arm.
It was nothing more than a spell to believe in herself.
And so, Monika's prosthetic arm, desperately touching the protective barrier.
“Vincent……, Tremblay!”
Monika shouted. She pushed through the gap in the protective barrier with her left hand, and concentrated Aura towards the blade that had sprouted from her prosthetic arm.
“I praise you, my lady.”
Tremblay wore a sardonic smile. Monika's and Tremblay's gazes crossed.
“To think you would reach my side with such a frail body. In that case, shall we try struggling a bit?”
The flashing ‘Fairy's Kaleidoscope’.
A severe confusion took root in Monika's mind.
What should not be seen is seen. The taste of memories spreads in her mouth. The smell of sound wafts, and her sense of touch is on edge due to the fragments of emotion. Soon, all her senses began to distort, but,
“Don't be ridiculous!”
──Kwaang!
An explosion that mixed with Monika's shout.
“I won't let you take it away!”
Everything that cannot be sensed.
And therefore, everything that is sensed.
“My! What makes me! All of that!”
Kwaang, kwaang, kwaang──!
Pieces of flesh shooting out in all directions. The magic bullets fired from the prosthetic arm's cannon barrel distorted Tremblay's protective barrier. While a thick dust filled the stone chamber,
‘I've won.’
Abel diagnosed with a calm expression. When he swung his beloved sword and cut through the dust, he saw Monika, tilting her prosthetic arm at the half-destroyed Tremblay.
“I did it……. I……”
……I did it.
Monika opened her mouth, panting for breath. Her breath, rising towards the empty air. Monika's eyes, which had been staring at it, began to lose their strength.
“You can rest now, Monika.”
You did well, and.
Abel's voice, heard quietly.
Abel was standing beside Monika. Monika, who had met Abel's gaze, smiled faintly, then lost consciousness and collapsed. It couldn't be helped. Abel thought, supporting Monika's body. The moment she overcame the black magic, her stamina must have already been at its bottom. Monika had fought harder than Abel had expected.
‘And above all…….’
Abel looked at the blade that had sprouted from the prosthetic arm.
‘She has made the form of her Aura more concrete.’
The blade that had pierced the edge of the Sensory Stone. Monika's Aura was wrapping around that sharp blade. Not in a whitish-green light, but in the shape of a clear stalk of grass.
‘How admirable.’
Abel lifted Monika in his arms. After laying his young disciple, who was full of wounds, in a corner of the stone chamber, he stroked her head with a hesitant hand. And so, hardening his expression,
“Vincent Tremblay, don't pretend to be unconscious.”
You can't lose consciousness in that body, and.
Abel said, turning around.
“Oh my, was that so?”
Tremblay let out a hearty laugh. His Catalyst had been broken long ago. Most of his body had lost its function, swept away by the Aura. It didn't matter anyway. Since he was a being that was nothing more than a replica. As Tremblay was sighing, thinking so,
“This child knew you.”
Abel took a step.
“Do you not remember this child.”
“No, excuse me.”
Tremblay's lips twisted into a slick smile.
“You said Abel Argento, right? Your name, I mean.”
Abel Argento……,
Abel……,
What on earth are you talking about?
Tremblay asked, clicking his tongue.
“I remember everything. What is absent in the current me is only the soul, not the memory. The janitor of CIAR. A child who lost one arm due to the Mirror War. I remember saving her when she was being bullied by some nasty fellows.”
I think I even offered some comfort……,
But so what,
What on earth does that matter.
“She became a student at CIAR while I was dead……, and she seems to have gotten a plausible prosthetic arm as well……, and what's more, my goodness, to think she had the talent to handle Aura.”
It's a really good thing, but……,
Anyway, so what,
What on earth does that matter either.
“I have no right to act as if I know her.”
The smile disappeared from Tremblay's lips.
“My good deeds, my prayers, have all become meaningless. But it's okay. It doesn't matter. Because I enjoyed as much as I could. I saw what I shouldn't have seen, heard what I shouldn't have heard, and smelled what I shouldn't have smelled……”
I recited what I shouldn't have recited.
Because that is how one becomes an apostate.
Tremblay muttered so.
“It must be so.”
Abel nodded his head.
His expression was as if he were just hearing a rumor.
“I will express my gratitude. Thanks to you, Monika was able to develop even further.”
Abel grabbed Tremblay's neck, which was sprawled on the stone floor. His momentum was as indifferent as if he were handling an object. Tremblay's body, thrown onto the altar. Abel sat down beside Tremblay. He took the hem of his clothes and wiped the dust from his beloved sword.
“But I did not restore you for Monika. From now on, I will ask you a few questions.”
I'll start with the fundamental.
Why did Vincent Tremblay become an apostate?
Hearing such a question from Abel, Tremblay chuckled.
“Did you want to know just that? How absurd. You could have just read the interrogation records. To regenerate my lost eye. That was all.”
“I did not ask you.”
Deureuk, and.
The sound of sheathing his beloved sword.
Abel took out the journal from the inner pocket of his formal coat.
“I asked the main gods.”
“What?”
Tremblay was momentarily puzzled, but soon began to tremble, drenched in fear. And rightly so, for Tremblay also perceived the place where Abel, with his head held high, was looking.
“W, what is this……”
What was in Tremblay's gaze was not the ceiling of the stone chamber. A streak of light, like the number of overused miracles. A dazzling radiance shining down from it. The shadows of five beings, so vast as to make even the scenery of the world seem trivial, yet tilting their heads towards his small self.
“Th, that……, what on earth is that.”
Not a bit of sacredness could be felt.
Because they were in a realm that transcended the laws of good and evil.
And so, there was only fear. What Tremblay, who was nothing more than a mere creation, could deduce from them was nothing more than a fear that made his own size futile.
“You have set foot in the Pantheon.”
Abel said, looking down at Tremblay.
His tone was endlessly business-like.
“Usually, you would die. Because it's impossible for a creation's body to withstand the environment of the Pantheon. Your eyes would go blind, and your ears would stop. Your nose would be twisted, and you wouldn't be able to swallow even a sip of air. But you are an exception. Because the current you is not a living being, but just an object.”
Now, then……,
You must be able to see, and.
Abel directed his question to the empty air.
“Because I have placed him so close to me.”
At the same time as Abel's voice reached Tremblay's ear,
[I can see.] [I see.] [I see well.] [I am watching.] [I will see.]
Grand voices pouring down from a distant place.
Tremblay clenched his teeth. He looked around, concentrating all his nerves on his stiffened body.
“Then, O main gods, from now on, I will request an oracle regarding Vincent Tremblay.”
“──K, kill me!”
Tremblay shouted as if squeezing it out.
“Kill me. Please! Your sword……, stab the Sensory Stone with your sword! I beg you. I'm begging you like this, so please……”
Kill me right now!
Please, please, please!
Tear me away from them──!
Tremblay's shriek soared towards a distant place.