Chapter 90 - Man-Made (1)

Beneath Rosario, the name of both the Holy Kingdom and its capital, a man stood in a vast cavern at the heart of the labyrinthine underground waterways.

His benevolent smile was out of place in such darkness. Wearing ink-black clerical robes and a moon-shaped pendant that marked him as a servant of Shironia, he was Anderde, Rosario’s chief cardinal.

“You’ve arrived.”

At his quiet murmur, a man swathed in black robes emerged from the rear of the seemingly empty cavern.

“There’s no fooling a cardinal’s eyes, I see.”

The masked man, his identity concealed and only his eyes curved in amusement, approached Anderde and casually waved a hand.

THUD

A box dropped in front of Anderde. As he studied the box, neither particularly small nor particularly large, the masked man spoke again.

“Have a look.”

Anderde knelt to examine its contents.

“Ooh...”

He could not help exclaiming at the many Abyssal Cores inside.

After briefly marveling at what looked to be at least fifty of them, Anderde closed the box, rose, and bowed politely.

“Thank you, Brother. Thanks to you, we can proceed as scheduled.”

“That’s good to hear. I believe you said it would be during the Festival of Birth. Is that correct?”

“Yes. Unless our plans change, that is when we shall do it.”

The masked man shrugged at Anderde’s answer, then paused as he turned to leave.

“By the way, might I ask you something?”

“Please, feel free.”

Anderde answered with a benevolent smile. After a moment’s consideration, the masked man spoke.

“I was wondering why you would go to such lengths to do this, Cardinal. Of course, if you find the question too personal, you needn’t answer.”

Anderde appeared to consider the question for a moment before replying.

“Because I wish to receive... salvation.”

“... Salvation?”

At the masked man’s question, Anderde spoke again.

“What do you think of the gods, Brother?”

“Hmm... I’m not sure. I haven’t given it much thought.”

“I feel that the gods are unfair.”

Those words were profoundly incongruous coming from a chief cardinal.

“Allow me to ask you a question.”

The masked man listened silently, letting Anderde continue.

“There are believers who pray to their god without fail. Some visit the temple every day to pray. Some go into battle to defend their god’s name. Some willingly walk a thorny path to fulfill their god’s mission.”

“Others leave a sick old woman behind to journey to a holy site in obedience to their god’s commandments. Still others kill against their wishes to uphold their god’s will.”

“Some have gone days without eating, and in their hunger they pray to their god as they beg for even a piece of moldy bread. Others pray for a sick old woman to be healed.”

Anderde went on and on. One person’s story, then another’s, then yet another’s poured ceaselessly from his lips, until at last he put his final question to the masked man.

“They all believe in Shironia and pray to her. To whom, then, do you think she will extend a helping hand?”

“...”

As the masked man pondered the question, Anderde spoke, still wearing his benevolent smile.

“Don’t trouble yourself too much. None of the choices I offered is correct.”

“... Pardon?”

The masked man looked bewildered at this unexpected statement, but Anderde continued.

“As I said, there is no correct answer. The goddess—no. Shironia extends a hand of salvation to no one. That thing merely acts as it pleases.”

Anderde’s expression turned bitter.

“That is what a god is. How long you have believed means nothing. Someone may believe in Shironia for decades, but if they do not please her, they will receive neither power nor blessing.”

“Conversely, if someone pleases a god, the gods grant them power even if they do not believe in her. They do as they wish, as though faith means nothing at all. Self-righteously.”

“That is what gods are. Rather than honoring sincere prayer and faith, sacrifice and martyrdom, they simply wield their power however they please.”

After finishing, Anderde fell silent for a time, then smiled again.

“That is why I made this decision.”

His smile was utterly benevolent and holy.

“That is why I intend to try.”

The masked man suddenly looked into the cavern behind Anderde.

“Where no one faces discrimination.”

The cavern was dark, but the torches scattered throughout hinted at its immense size. Beyond the cardinal stood countless people.

“Where anyone who believes may receive an equal share of power.”

Men, women, the elderly, children. Ordinary people, priests, inquisitors, nuns. All were praying devoutly toward a single place.

“For believers alone.”

At the far end of the cavern stood a stone statue, enormous by anyone’s reckoning—yet clearly made by human hands.

An immense statue in human form.

“A god of humanity.”

“...”

The masked man looked at him. Anderde was still smiling, his smile infinitely warm. Illuminated by torchlight in the darkness, it seemed utterly alien.

“...”

The masked man felt an inexplicable fear. On either side of Anderde’s benevolent smile, the shadows cast by the torches deepened its curve.

Like a madman’s.

####

Alon was inwardly flustered by the intense light that suddenly burst forth the moment he used magic.

‘Wait, why is that glowing? Shironia’s statue shouldn’t react to magic in the first place.’

He immediately stopped forming the spell, just in case. Yet even after he stopped, the light from Shironia’s statue did not fade.

Soon, a clear, lovely voice, sounding thoroughly flustered, reached his ears.

[“Wh-what—”]

No physical form appeared. There was only the voice, and all he could see was Shironia’s brilliantly glowing statue.

Realizing from this that the voice belonged to the goddess Shironia, Alon looked somewhat bewildered. Still, he thought he ought to pay his respects first and started to bow.

[“W-wait—!”]

At the urgent voice, Alon stopped awkwardly halfway through lowering himself onto one knee.

“?”

He looked questioningly at the statue. But then—

[“What... are you?”]

“...??”

Only upon hearing the goddess’s trembling voice did Alon realize that Shironia was wary of him.

He wondered why, but he could hardly keep a goddess waiting long for an answer.

“I am Count Pallatio of the Kingdom of Arteria, great goddess Shironia.”

For the moment, he answered by recalling the protagonist’s introduction from the game.

[“No, that’s not what I was asking—ah!”]

Shironia had been speaking in apparent frustration when she suddenly sucked in a breath. A long silence followed.

[“Count Pallatio. What is your purpose in coming here?”]

At last she spoke in a somewhat calmer voice, unlike her earlier urgency.

... Of course, Alon could still hear the haste beneath it. After falling silent, unsure what to do, he finally got to the point.

“... I came hoping I might receive the Eye-Eater’s Necklace.”

That was the relic Alon had sought in this chamber of the saints: the only one among its many relics that was hidden and had no tracking spell placed on it.

The moment he spoke its name—

CLICK

The marble floor to the right of Shironia’s statue opened smoothly, and her voice rang out.

[“Hold out your hand.”]

Alon did so.

TAP

A white necklace dropped into his hand.

“This is—”

[“Is this what you came here for?”]

“It is... but why give it to me so suddenly?”

Though he had some idea of her intentions, Alon asked just to be sure. Shironia replied:

[“Take it.”]

“... May I truly do so?”

[“Yes. Is your business finished, then?”]

“It is, but...”

[“Th-then be on your way.”]

With those words, she vanished in an instant. The white light went out as suddenly as a power outage.

Although her manner had grown calmer midway through, anyone could have heard how impatient her voice was. And her disappearance had been practically a flight, leaving Alon bewildered.

‘... Wait. This situation...’

It suddenly struck him how closely this resembled his meeting with Heinkel at the magic symposium. Remembering her cry of [“Behind—!”], he glanced over his shoulder.

“...”

Of course, there was nothing there.

‘What on earth... is going on?’

With an odd sense that something was amiss, Alon left the chamber of the saints carrying the Eye-Eater’s Necklace he had originally wanted.

####

Meanwhile, at that very moment, Rosario’s saint Roman was staring wide-eyed at what had unfolded before him, astonished beyond dispute.

There were several reasons for his shock.

First, he was astonished by the very fact that Count Pallatio could speak with the goddess Shironia. Second, her statue shone more brightly in the count’s presence than when he himself was with her.

But what shocked Yuman most of all, leaving his mouth hanging open, was this:

‘The goddess personally gave him a sacred relic...?’

Shironia herself had bestowed a sacred relic upon Count Pallatio. An act akin to a holy ritual, performed only when the goddess personally chose a saint...!

... Of course, she had merely been fulfilling Count Pallatio’s request. But he could not hear the statue’s voice unless he was inside the chamber of the saints, leaving him puzzled.

‘Could Count Pallatio have realized I was watching and used some strange trick?’

He decided to settle on that conclusion. Normally, when Shironia performed the rite of choosing a saint, she followed the proper procedure rather than rushing through it like this.

Thus, as soon as he saw Count Pallatio leave, Yuman entered the Chamber of the Holy Spirit, knelt, and prayed.

Some time passed.

HUM

Shironia’s statue began to glow, and her voice rang out.

[“What is it, my child?”]

... A voice that sounded ever so slightly tired.

But Yuman, who had witnessed her giving Count Pallatio the relic, failed to notice the subtle difference in her voice and began to speak.

“I report to the great goddess Shironia that I saw Count Pallatio take an object from this chamber—”

[“Enough.”]

Shironia cut him off.

[“I gave it to him. You need not concern yourself with it, my child.”]

“Pardon? Truly?”

[“Yes. If you witnessed what happened today, pretend you saw nothing.”]

With those words, Shironia vanished.

And Yuman remained kneeling dazedly in the Chamber of the Holy Spirit.

‘The goddess really bestowed a relic on Count Pallatio herself?’

As he pondered this in a stupor, he could reach only one conclusion.

“... Then Count Pallatio is... a saint, just like me...?”