Chapter 111 - The Truth...? (1)

The feast that began that night was far better than Alon had expected. Held between the ruins and the enormous trees, beneath the Milky Way stretching across the night sky, it had an atmosphere all its own.

First of all, the food was delicious.

And second, the food was delicious...!

'... This is good.'

He looked down in surprise at the meat he was eating. Unlike ordinary meat, it was richly savory with a subtle sweetness, rather like crabmeat. To his surprise, it suited his palate perfectly.

“Wow, this is delicious!”

Beside him, Evan voiced his admiration as though agreeing with that thought.

“Indeed.”

As Alon nodded, a woman among the tribespeople enjoying the feast smiled and spoke, holding her two daughters in her arms.

“Oh, it's an honor to hear our tribe's hero say so. I made that dish myself.”

“Did you? It's truly delicious.”

“That's thanks to the ingredients.”

“What is it made from?”

“Stormbugs.”

Alon involuntarily stopped chewing.

“Storm... bugs?”

“Yes.”

“You mean... those stormbugs?”

“Yes. Those stormbugs.”

That final confirmation made Alon want to spit out the food in his mouth. Here in the jungle, “stormbug” meant an insect that resembled an enormous cockroach.

“I... see.”

“Oh, aren't you having any more?”

“... I've eaten a little too much.”

Alon carefully set down the stormbug meat he was holding and glanced beside him. Evan now had his head practically buried in his food, as though determined to devour all the stormbug meat at the feast.

Should he tell him or not? After a moment's consideration, he chose silence.

Once again reminded of life's lesson that some things were better left unknown, Alon sat down among the nearby ruins and gazed at the night sky for a while.

The Milky Way spread across it was beautiful. It looked even a little more radiant than the moonlight shining down on the earth from the dark sky.

Then came a voice.

“... Marquis Pallatio.”

“Hmm?”

Turning toward it, Alon saw Reinhardt slowly approaching, apparently now able to move around somewhat.

... He, too, was chewing stormbug meat with obvious enjoyment.

“Is it good?”

“Oh, this? Yes, it's delicious. I've never tasted anything like it in the kingdom.”

Of course he hadn't...

No, wouldn't it have been more of a problem if he had?

“Well... could I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

Reinhardt scratched his head, remaining silent for a moment before speaking.

“Do you happen to know about the Hundred Demons?”

“The Hundred Demons? You mean the northern zone?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I know of them.”

Alon answered casually.

“You only know of them? You don't have any connection to them?”

“A connection? Unfortunately, this is my first visit to the jungle.”

At Alon's reply, Reinhardt nodded with a look that said he had expected as much.

“I see.”

“Why do you ask?”

“It's nothing. I simply mistook something.”

With that, Reinhardt turned away as though he had nothing more to say. Alon wondered why he had come only to say his piece and leave, but it fit Reinhardt's personality so perfectly that he merely nodded, expressionless.

Then, seeing Reinhardt start tearing into the stormbug meat again as he walked away, Alon quietly averted his gaze.

... He wasn't particularly squeamish, but somehow, even watching made him feel a little ill.

A little while later, once his queasy stomach had settled, Alon returned to the feast to try some other food. Noticing a crowd gathered in one spot, he headed over.

“Yes, the marquis did not retreat even a single step before that enormous god. Instead, he climbed up before it and drove a spear into its head.”

“Oooh...”

There, he discovered Deus, looking even more solemn than usual, telling the Thunder Serpent tribespeople gathered in a circle about their battle with Basiliora the Receiver a few days earlier.

“The marquis looked down with unfeeling eyes upon the fallen god—no, the beast. Without the slightest trace of emotion, as though it were only natural.”

“Oooh...”

Watching the tribespeople marvel at every word Deus said, Alon felt strangely embarrassed. He certainly didn't dislike praise, but he wasn't thick-skinned enough to listen to someone recount his deeds as a heroic tale before such a crowd.

Still, he had no intention of spoiling a story everyone was engrossed in, so he began edging away.

“The creature climbed the altar again and again to kill the marquis, but not once did its attacks reach him. Each time it climbed up, the marquis's magic sent it flying.”

“...?”

Alon had the distinct impression that this supposedly factual account was drifting in a rather different direction.

He wanted to correct him: You were the one who held Basiliora back... But that thought was short-lived.

“At that moment, Marquis Pallatio gazed at the serpent coiled around the altar and brought forth pure white radiance in the gray sky. The sight of him then—”

Deus's words went beyond long-windedness, continuing as though he were preaching from some scripture. Alon could only regard him suspiciously.

It would have been one thing if he were simply telling it as it happened. But he looked as though he were boasting about a close friend, exaggerating everything as much as possible. For a moment, Alon felt like a friend was teasing him.

'... Is he really doing this just to tease me...?'

... It was a night beneath the shining Milky Way.

####

The next day, Alon decided to leave the Thunder Serpent tribe. Now that Reinhardt and Deus had recovered, there was no reason to remain.

And so:

“I look forward to seeing you again, honored guest.”

“As do I.”

Alon said farewell to the Thunder Serpent chieftain, who bowed respectfully.

“If you ever need help, please be sure to call on us.”

“I will.”

“I'll come help too. I promise!”

“Thank you.”

After answering Sircal the Swift and her younger sister as well, he set off at once.

Having departed early that morning, Alon's party reached camp before noon. They stopped only for a meal before continuing on, and arrived in the domain before evening.

“Wow, so this is the air of civilization!”

Evan made quite a fuss.

Beside him, Alon looked satisfied as well. Though the domain bordered the jungle, the humidity felt completely different. In the jungle, his clothes clung unpleasantly to him even when he stood still, but it wasn't nearly that bad here.

However accustomed he had become to that murderous damp and humidity, he could never grow to like it.

'I'm staying out of the jungle from now on unless I really have to go.'

For the first time in a while, Alon spent a comfortable night resting.

The next day:

“Then this is where we part ways.”

“Yes.”

He said his farewells to Deus outside Caslot. Alon needed to head east toward the Kingdom of Asteria, while Deus had to travel west, toward Callivan.

“Until next time, then.”

Alon offered a casual farewell. Deus bowed in return, then suddenly asked a question.

“My lord.”

“What is it?”

“Have I grown stronger?”

The sudden question made Alon pause, but he soon nodded.

“Yes. Anyone would agree. You're steadily growing stronger.”

In fact, Deus was so strong that Alon wondered if he was already on the level of a Grand Swordmaster.

“Is that so? That's a relief.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

A quiet smile had appeared on Deus's face. Alon studied it—the first smile Deus had shown during this visit.

'What is he relieved about?'

Soon afterward, Alon exchanged a final farewell with Deus, and they parted at Caslot.

“Are we heading to Teria now, then?”

“Yes. I'd rather go home to the estate, but I have to make my report. And—”

“There's something I need to hear, too,” he murmured, picturing Critenia Siyan's face.

The carriage set off for Teria.

####

While Alon was on his way to Teria, inside the temple tent at the center of the Thunder Serpent tribe's village, Sircal the Swift entered at Ashgul the Wise's summons.

“What is it, Chieftain?” she asked.

“Sircal.”

“Yes, Chieftain.”

“Can you recall what our honored guest said and repeat it once more?”

Sircal nodded at his request.

“He said, ‘I, hidden beneath the low sky, shall come to you; you who welcome the dawn, greet me with joy.’ Just as I told you before. But why do you ask all of a sudden?”

The chieftain looked up from the scroll he had been examining.

“Sircal. As you know, our Thunder Serpent tribe gives words of verse to our benefactors, so that they may call upon our help at any time.”

“Yes, of course I know. And the phrase we give them differs according to the favor they've done us, as does the verse we place before it to prevent leaks.”

The chieftain nodded at her answer.

“Yes. Most of our tribe knows only the part that says, ‘You who welcome the dawn, greet me with joy.’ The verse given to each benefactor is recorded only in this scroll.”

Chieftain Ashgal handed the scroll to Sircal.

“Take a look.”

“What? But I'm—”

“You are fully prepared to become chieftain and abide by the restriction. There is no need to worry.”

“Ah...”

Sircal took the scroll with a quiet exclamation.

“Find the phrase our honored guest recited.”

At the chieftain's instruction, she carefully unrolled it.

She slowly read upward from the bottom of the record, which spanned the Thunder Serpent tribe's history and which only the chieftain was permitted to read.

“!”

The moment she reached its first line, she involuntarily held her breath.

The scroll's first line contained more than the verse their honored guest had spoken. Beside it was a name.

“Kalanon, the Receiver of Lightning...?”

The title she had unwittingly murmured was one she knew very well. No, she could not possibly have failed to know it.

Kalanon, the Receiver of Lightning, was the first guardian deity to protect the Thunder Serpent tribe.

Sircal immediately raised her head.

“Chieftain, then he is...?”

“Yes.”

“... But to think he's a god just because he knows a verse...”

Sircal voiced her doubts.

Ashgal gave a gentle chuckle.

“Yes, you're right. However much we change the verses, we can never entirely rule out the possibility of a leak.”

“Then why—”

“But that verse is one that only he could know in the first place.”

“... Why?”

“Sircal, think carefully. Think of the story of Kalanon you've heard since childhood—the story passed down from ancient times as indisputable truth, preserved upon the sacred tablet and told through the generations.”

The sacred tablet.

Sircal thought of the holy relic handed down from antiquity, a stone tablet that inscribed the Thunder Serpent tribe's history by itself every ten years, though no one wrote upon it. After pondering blankly for a moment, she gave a quiet exclamation.

“... Ah.”

According to what she had read on the sacred tablet, Kalanon, the Receiver of Lightning, had met his end defending the Thunder Serpent tribe from the black things.

Indebted to their god beyond all measure, the tribe had left him the first verse as a promise. Immediately afterward, Kalanon had closed his eyes for the last time.

Which meant:

“... The first verse given to Kalanon—no, the verse known only to him—could never have been leaked...?”

“Correct. The chieftains, who alone have the right to read the scroll, are bound by a restriction that makes it impossible for them to divulge the verses. In other words, the only person who could know that verse...”

“...is the one it was given to. No one else.”

As the chieftain's voice resounded quietly, Sircal's mouth fell open without a word.