Chapter 47: O Prayer, Do Not Reach (3)
Abel recalled a distant memory.
For instance, around the time he was about to part ways with his 96th disciple.
As the letters made of neon signs flickered ceaselessly,
and the train, powered by a perpetual motion machine, announced its departure,
“It's all over, Teacher.”
The 96th disciple opened her mouth.
Leaning her back against the stained seat.
Smiling, drenched in the blood of monsters.
“How do you feel? I'm incredibly tired. I feel like I could fall asleep right now. We've been fighting for three days and three nights, after all.”
Abel's head tilted to the side.
How do I feel? He thought he didn't quite know. A mechanical sound echoed from beyond his hazy thoughts. At this, Abel’s body jolted. The train began to race along the tracks, and the handles hanging in the car shook chaotically.
“Since you can't sleep, Teacher, I won't sleep either.”
The 96th disciple said in an innocent tone.
Around her were her companions, asleep as if they had fainted. A Saintess, a mage, a strategist, an inspector……. Without exception, they were leaning against the 96th disciple. They had faced countless life-threatening crises, but in the end, none of the ‘Mother God's Right Hand’ had died.
“If I fall asleep, you'll leave, won't you? Right?”
“That is correct. There is no time to delay.”
Abel was sitting across from the 96th disciple.
There was no one else around. Before reaching Epezeria, the environment of the 96th world he had visited was one of the harshest. The other ‘Mother God's Left Hands’, aside from Abel, had not survived. They had dedicated their lives to assisting the ‘Mother God's Right Hand’. That was enough.
“Leaving…… means death, right?”
“It will be a little different from the death you know.”
Abel wore a faint smile.
The ‘Mother God's Left Hands’ were different from ordinary creatures. They had been reincarnated without passing through the Underworld. That is why the durability of their souls was unstable. Because they hadn't undergone the process of cleansing their souls while staying in the Underworld, and thus had preserved their memories and power even after reincarnating……,
“I will simply abandon my physical body and leave for another world, and if I am killed by other factors, my existence will be erased. It means there will be no room for reincarnation.”
“What does it mean to abandon your physical body?”
“I'm not sure.”
Perhaps it’s like taking one’s own life.
Abel muttered so.
“You really are the worst, Teacher.”
The 96th disciple let out a sigh.
“You know. I really don't want to see it, you know? Your corpse. But I guess it can't be helped, right? Fine. I get that. But instead, would it kill you to tell a little lie?”
“What kind of lie?”
“There are so many! Like reassuring me that you won't die, and then sneakily dying…… No. That’s still unpleasant. But think about it for a second. You're too rigid, Teacher. I'm telling you to learn a little something like a white lie.”
Abel tilted his head.
The 96th disciple was a difficult child to understand. She would become friends with stray cats after fighting with them over territory, or, when troubled, would hum while organizing the refrigerator all night.
“Teacher.”
Whooosh──, he went.
Abel’s ears felt stuffy.
It was because the train had entered a tunnel.
The colors on all sides darkened, and only the disciple's outline was visible.
“You're a very good person, but in the next world, I hope you'll be a little more nonchalant. That way, I think I'll be able to worry less about you.”
Again, the colors became distinct.
The train, having emerged from the tunnel, entered the city center.
An iron fortress of desire built of skyscrapers. Abel had met his 96th disciple there. It was a civilization formed under a sky blocked by thick smog, with corporate conspiracies and the abuse of technology, advertisements that acted like hypnosis, machines implanted in the body, and the quagmire of capital that flowed ceaselessly.
“So, promise me.”
The 96th disciple smiled.
“To become a person who is good at lying.”
“……I will try.”
Abel’s vision blurred.
The time had come.
“So I promise.”
Countless worlds were waiting for Abel.
Abel decided to leave, leaving behind a sliver of bluff.
“I will sneakily die.”
* * *
The afternoon sunlight poured into Abel's office.
Amidst the empty surroundings, papers were scattered on the round table. They were documents collected to investigate the Saint-Pierre family.
‘Raphael de Arcturus.’
Among them, Abel examined the document detailing Raphael's history.
There was nothing noticeably concerning. In his 20s, he belonged to the Papacy and worked as a cleric, and upon reaching thirty, he was appointed as a professor in CIAR's Department of Divinity. It was understood that he had published several books on divine magic theory.
‘But…….’
Abel opened Raphael's theoretical book.
‘This man’s ideology is also extreme.’
Raphael emphasized prayer through self-harm.
He claimed that the more desperate the act, the more effective the prayer, and that pain was a means to promote desperation.
“Fabien.”
Clink, he went.
Abel closed Raphael's theoretical book.
On one side of the round table, the leaves of a yellow rose stuck in a glass bottle trembled.
“I heard the report well. Professor Arcturus forced Monika to self-harm, and Monika complied and fought back.”
[Is that so?]
Fabien tilted his head.
His Mana Reactor flickered as if in doubt.
[Fighting back through self-harm……. It is difficult for me to understand.]
“That's understandable. It's an inconvenient method.”
[It is strange. There must have been a much more effective way. Even if it was difficult to draw a weapon and fight back, it would have been resolved if she had called for Professor Argento. Am I correct?]
“That is correct.”
Abel nodded his head.
“I also think Monika's method is inefficient. She probably didn't want to be indebted to me. That child needs to learn how to use her allies. Because she insists on using only inconvenient methods.”
[Like you, Professor?]
“……Me, you say?”
Abel's gaze tilted toward Fabien.
Fabien nodded his head. The flickering of his Mana Reactor stopped. It was because he had reached a definite answer.
[I have calculated it several times. About the reason why you, Professor, do not eat or sleep. The reason you do so despite being human must be to be uncomfortable. Penance is also a culture of intelligent life forms. Am I correct?]
“……Yes. You are absolutely right.”
A self-deprecating smile touched Abel's lips.
“Wanting to be uncomfortable must also be human nature.”
For example, like those who self-harm and are fanatically devoted.
Abel's hand rummaged through the papers. He began to organize them to grasp the facts. The Saint-Pierre family, and the Arcturus family that branched off from it. The relationship between the two families was close. They even held banquets from time to in common, they valued faith, and the only difference was whether they prioritized invention or the clergy.
‘Technology and faith cannot coexist.’
Abel recalled the 96th world he had visited.
It was a society dominated by technological civilization. A world where the existence of mages had faded, and the marks of the church were found only in back alleys.
It was a natural progression. Religion flourishes in the early stages of civilization, and as history progresses, it gives way to technology. The 96th world he had visited was far more advanced than Epezeria.
‘Given their dispositions, they should reject each other, yet their relationship is close.’
It must be because they are families that originated in the north.
The northern part of the Empire belonged to a frigid climate, and due to low solar radiation, it was difficult for crops to grow, and monster invasions were also frequent.
They must have needed a means to survive. They would have promoted the advancement of life through technology, and enjoyed peace of mind through religion.
‘And thus, fanaticism…….’
Could it be that an extreme faith came to support the two families?
Abel let out a sigh. Epezeria was a world where religion held power, and there was a point of contact between fanatics and apostates.
Just as the apostate he had restored at the Naflansee Cathedral, Vincent Tremblay, had been obsessed with divine magic for the restoration of his eyeball.
“Fabien, please write a letter to be sent to the Duke of Orléans.”
[Understood.]
Fabien spread his hands.
The magic circle engraved on his palms shone. Fabien, who had summoned a pen and letter paper, gave a slight nod.
[Ready. Please state the contents.]
“I will report on Marquis Saint-Pierre.”
Abel tightened the knot of his tie.
“The possibility of him colluding with the apostates is unclear. I am considering the possibility of him being a fanatic.”
[Written. Please state the next content.]
“As you know, the faith of fanatics is twisted. Cases of human sacrifice are also frequent. Making weapons using the bodies of dead knights as materials……, this is an act that an apostate might do, and at the same time, an act that a fanatic might do.”
Precisely because of that, he said.
Abel continued, putting on his overcoat.
“The homeless, the disabled, or the extremely poor in the slums……. An investigation of vulnerable groups who could be murdered without leaving any circumstantial evidence is necessary. It is highly likely that they were used for human experiments or religious rituals.”
[Written. Please state the next content.]
“I will now have an interview with a professor belonging to the Arcturus family, a branch of the Saint-Pierre family.”
That is all.
I'll report the results in the evening.
Abel muttered so.
[Confirmed.]
Fabien sealed the letter and cast a teleportation spell.
Abel turned his back to Fabien. He strode toward the office exit, gripping his beloved sword.
“There is one more thing I'd like to ask of you, Fabien.”
[Golems only follow commands, not requests. Please command me at your convenience.]
Fabien said, following behind Abel.
“Get me a mask. The shape doesn't matter.”
[……A mask, you say?]
“Yes.”
Abel looked back at Fabien.
Fabien's Mana Reactor began to flicker. Abel's indifferent expression seemed to twitch slightly. To figure out what that emotion was, Fabien initiated calculations.
“I'm going to go bluff now.”
Fabien could not understand the meaning of Abel's words.
However, the flickering of his Mana Reactor stopped. It was thanks to succeeding in identifying Abel's emotion.
[You seem to be extremely angry, Professor Argento.]
A mechanical smile appeared on Fabien's lips.
[About Lady Monika being abused…….]
* * *
Dusk, the prayer room of the affiliated cathedral of Cia-Harphe Academy.
As the sound of flesh hitting flesh spread between the stone walls,
- He’s really persistent, that person……. Just how long is he going to be like that? It's painful for me to even watch.
- D-don't say that, Melisha. Professor Arcturus might be listening. We shouldn't comment on what the higher-ups are doing. There must be a great purpose…….
- He’s just self-harming, Sasha. Is there any great meaning in what he's doing? Didn't you see earlier? He forced Monika to do that crazy thing too.
Trisha, Melisha, and Sasha, who had finished cleaning, were whispering.
Raphael was in prayer. Slamming his knees on the ground, and ramming his forehead against the altar. It was the procedure of prayer passed down through generations within the Arcturus family. His whole body was not sound due to self-harm, but he didn't mind. Wounds could be treated. Only conveying his voice to the Pantheon was important.
Yes, a voice.
A smile spread across Raphael's lips.
Prayer is a process of communication, a rite of speaking to the Main Gods.
A greater heart is more likely to reach the Main Gods.
So, it is pain. Is there any emotion more immense than pain, which originates from instinct?
“You lowly things……”
Raphael looked back.
Trisha, Melisha, and Sasha held their breath.
“You do not know because you have been abandoned by this world. The Main Gods desire our screams. They bestow rewards the more intensely we practice penance. Of course, even if the likes of you were to suffer, it could not become training.”
Hah, he went.
Raphael let out a dry laugh.
A stream of blood flowed down the corner of his eye. His torn forehead was revealing raw, red flesh.
- S-sorry…….
Sasha hurriedly bowed her head.
- We're not smart enough to understand what you're saying. We've finished cleaning, so we'll be going now. Trisha, Melisha! Hurry up and pack the tools.
- Wow, that person really seems out of his mind…….
- He'll hear you, Melisha! Just pick up that broom lying there. Let’s return it quickly and go home. I'm starving.
What useless things.
Raphael thought, gazing at the janitors leaving the prayer room.
This world is a society of strict hierarchy. The lives of all creatures depend on the will of the Main Gods, and the lowly are bound to be lowly. There was no room for sympathy. Those who had sinned in their past lives were born as lowly creatures and were punished, so those filthy girls were nothing but sinners.
“Is that not so? O Main Gods.”
Raphael asked, looking up at the altar.
No answer came. Only a few chosen evangelists would enjoy the glory of conversing with the Main Gods. However, this world was the answer itself. Everything in this world was done according to the will of the Main Gods, and it could be called a perfectly designed paradise.
“I, Raphael de Arcturus……”
Raphael humbly bowed to the altar.
“I will strive to treat the lowly even more lowly, and the weighty even more weighty…….”
So, O Main Gods,
Please accept my prayer.
Just as Raphael muttered so and was about to bow his body,
──Thud!
The archway door of the prayer room was thrown open violently.
An angry autumn wind rushed toward Raphael.
“You foolish commoners!”
Raphael crumpled his face and looked back.
“Are you really trying to disturb me! You lot have no value of existence in this world……”
……at all.
As he was about to say,
“Professor Raphael de Arcturus.”
Footsteps strode from beyond the archway.
“I have come to have a close conversation.”
Raphael tilted his head. He had thought the janitors had returned, but a tall man was crossing the prayer room.
The man's outline, visible through the shadowed gap. A familiar formal attire. He had also often seen the ash-gray silver hair. Although he had never spoken to him directly, Raphael knew this man's name. How could he not know?
“……P-Professor Argento.”
The Sword Saint, Abel Argento.
Raphael's eyes, which had been staring at him, widened.
“Why……, why……”
He shouldn't have revealed the fact that he was the Sword Saint.
However, he could not hide his surging respect. The Sword Saint was one who had reached the pinnacle of faith. Raphael placed a hand on his chest and shouted.
“Why are you wearing such a ridiculous mask!”
Thus, he could not hide his bewilderment either.
For a jester's mask was covering Abel's face.
“You seem to be mistaken, Professor Arcturus.”
Abel shrugged his shoulders.
“I do not know anyone by the name of Abel Argento.”
Saying so, he grabbed the scabbard of his beloved sword.
“As for me……”
Screech, he went.
The blade of his beloved sword was revealed with a dull sound.
“That's right.”
A gloomy radiance was seeping into the beloved sword.
“I'm just a mysterious masked man.”