Chapter 12 - Revelation - 2

After walking for some time, only half listening to Trebo’s stories, they arrived at a secluded chamber in the deepest part of the Grand Temple.

Like every facility in the Holy Empire, the room was pure white. Lit candles stood in holders spaced evenly along the walls. A little farther into the room, a shallow spring large enough to hold one person occupied its center.

The entire space exuded a solemn air.

'Here...'

He could hear the voices of the gods.

As Bera considered that, he felt a small ripple stir within him. He was not yet certain how they communicated, but if it worked both ways—and if he were allowed to have everyone else leave—there were things he desperately wanted to ask his god.

'Why me?'

Why had he been chosen? Why had he been given a sacred mark? Had the gods truly intended to send him back in time? If so, why?

He had hazarded a vague guess that the Supreme God had sent him back to save her, but even that was uncertain. Hence the questions welling up within him.

Bera’s gaze settled on the spring. There were no patterns or ornaments anywhere on it. It really looked as though someone had simply dug a hole in the floor and filled it with water.

He had been staring at it, lost in thought for some time, when Trebo spoke again.

“It seems we’re the first to arrive, doesn’t it?”

“So it seems.”

“Hmm... When will the others get here, I wonder?”

Trebo folded his arms. Just as Bera was about to suggest that they would be along soon...

CREAK.

The chamber door opened.

“I have arrived.”

“I’m here too.”

It was the twins.

Their booming voices reverberated throughout the chamber, drawing Bera’s and Trebo’s eyes toward them. Under those gazes, the twins muttered with a somehow gloomy air.

“Someone arrived before us...”

“We aren’t first...”

“... You’re here.”

Bera greeted the twins, then let out a small breath and looked away.

... His thoughts had fled. It was all because of their infuriating way of talking.

They had grown somewhat closer while repairing the cabin together over the past week, but that manner of speech was something Bera simply could not get used to.

“Congratulations on your revelation, Bera.”

“I congratulate you too.”

“... Thank you.”

Unwilling to say any more, Bera shut his mouth.

Silence settled over the room. After an extended stretch of awkwardness, Trebo, who had been smiling gently all the while, asked the twins a question.

“Thank you for coming all this way. Is your training going well?”

“We guarded it. We worked hard. But it is hot.”

“I guarded it too. But I sweat.”

“Haha, the weather certainly is hot. Why not stand in the shade?”

“We cannot do that. We must guard the gate.”

“I decided to work hard too.”

As the conversation continued, Bera found himself wanting to cover his ears. Did these oddballs share some sort of understanding? Their chatter showed no sign of dying down.

His expression naturally soured. Just as he began wishing someone, anyone, would hurry up and arrive, the chamber door opened again.

Bera turned at the creaking sound and saw a middle-aged man in white clerical robes.

He had never seen the man before, but he knew at once who he was.

Of course he did. Among those expected here today, there was only one whose face he did not know.

'The apostle of guidance.'

It was probably him.

The first word that came to mind upon seeing him was “scruffy.” His faded blond hair hung long, and his untrimmed beard was a mess. He walked with a wide-mouthed yawn, his gait resembling a drunkard’s.

Bera studied his appearance, found his suspicions confirmed at a glance, and nodded.

'Not normal either, just as I thought.'

He had more or less expected it from Norn’s reaction, and sure enough, the man did not make a good first impression.

Rather than a messenger of the divine realm who presided over revelations, he brought to mind a regular at the gambling den Bera had run in his previous life.

“Good grief, why are you all so diligent? You’re making this old fellow feel bad for being late.”

“Ah, you’re here?”

“Well now, professor, how’ve you been?”

“The same as always. Ah, Sir Bera. This is the man who will preside over today’s revelation...”

“Name’s Rohan.”

He cut across Trebo’s introduction. The apostle of guidance, Rohan, approached Bera and continued with a broad grin.

“So this gloomy little brat is the apostle of oaths? Good heavens, how old are you?”

“... Fourteen. My name is Bera.”

“Oh ho! Right at the age when you’re raring to go. Want this old fellow to introduce you to a nice place? Normally they don’t let boys your age in, but... put in a good word, and I can get you through the door. What do you say? Want to go?”

Rohan thrust his fist toward Bera, then poked his thumb between his index and middle fingers and wiggled it.

Bera understood the gesture immediately and answered with a frown.

“... No, thank you.”

“Huh? Aw, you’re no fun.”

The way he spoke with that smirk was utterly obnoxious. Bera felt his fist clench involuntarily and gritted his teeth.

At that sight, Rohan’s eyes narrowed in a sly smile. Then he turned to the twins.

“Then how about our twins?”

“It is shameful. Such things are bad.”

“I like it. I’m good at getting it up.”

“Oh ho, that’s the spirit! Our young Marek is raring to go! And Krek, you fool! I’m the apostle of guidance. Guidance! I’m only trying to guide our ladies to heaven too. What’s so bad about that?”

Bera watched the conversation unfold with unadulterated disgust spread across his face.

Rohan laughed heartily. Marek blushed, Krek looked downcast, and Trebo watched them with a gentle smile.

No matter how he looked at it, these people were a harmful influence.

Once again, the conviction began to swell within Bera that he must never let the Saintess get close to them.

Wasn’t it obvious? She had been such a kindhearted woman, yet her behavior had been bizarre beyond measure. Who else could have been responsible but these people?

Bera shook his head as his thoughts continued.

He bore a tremendous responsibility.

* * *

Bargo arrived at the chamber in the middle of one of Rohan’s lengthy speeches.

“So this old fellow went and... Ah, you’re here, Your Holiness?”

“Yes. When do you intend to grow up, you fool?”

“Heh heh...”

Bargo clicked his tongue and shot Rohan a sidelong glare. Rohan began bowing and scraping with a servile expression.

The twins’ faces stiffened. As for Trebo, he began hiding behind them.

The atmosphere changed in an instant.

Bera gave a hollow chuckle at how meek they became the moment Bargo appeared, then bowed his head to him.

“Welcome, Your Holiness.”

“Yes. At least you seem to have been eating well. Your face has filled out.”

The words sounded almost like a provocation. Bera’s fist tightened a little.

“... Yes. Thanks to you, I no longer go hungry.”

Irritation rose within him even as he spoke, but he firmly held it back.

Bargo personally managed all the food and equipment allotted to him.

He disliked the old man, but he had to keep him happy.

At an age when he needed to eat plenty and build up his physique, it would be troublesome if the old man cut his rations out of spite.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, Bargo looked at his bowed head and nodded with a dry chuckle.

“Yes. Eat well, and make sure you earn your keep.”

“... Yes.”

Bera bowed deeply once more.

Having finished speaking to Bera, Bargo turned to Rohan.

“Is the ceremony ready?”

“Uh...”

Rohan looked blank.

“Well... I was so happy to see the youngsters again after so long that I rather forgot... sir?”

“Tsk. Useless fool.”

“Heh heh...”

Rohan’s bowing and scraping grew even more pronounced.

“I-I’ll get it done right away!”

“Hurry up. My back hurts. I can’t stand for long.”

“Yes, sir!”

... He had been carrying on like that without even making preparations?

Bera wondered where he had found the confidence. As a hollow chuckle escaped his lips...

“Now, I hear you’ve been hard at work on something in that cabin. Is it going well?”

Bargo asked another question.

Realizing he meant his training in sacred techniques, Bera looked him straight in the eye.

“Yes. I’ve incorporated both form and righteousness.”

A smile rose to Bera’s lips.

Naturally, he had said it hoping to see surprise on Bargo’s face.

“I’m sure you did a splendid job.”

Instead, he received a mocking chuckle.

Once more, irritation flared within Bera.

“... I most certainly incorporated them. It isn’t a form of swordplay, but I fashioned its form by adapting spellcraft arrays to inscribe divine powers upon the surrounding space, and imbued it with the intent to overcome my own weaknesses through that. I have also refined it to a thoroughly practical level.”

“What does that have to do with a protector’s sword? Who told you to train in sacred arts? What in the world did you take my words to mean when I told you not to swing your sword like that?”

Bera flinched. His body trembled at those words, and bewilderment began to show on his face.

Looking back... he was right.

Bargo had spoken of form and intent while criticizing his aggression-intoxicated swordplay.

As for sacred arts...

'... He never mentioned them once.'

As that realization struck, Bera’s face took on a stunned look.

His eyes naturally turned to Trebo.

Of course they did. Hadn’t Trebo been the one to explain all this?

Bera glared at Trebo, who was hiding behind the twins, silently demanding an explanation. Trebo scratched the back of his head and tilted it.

He looked confused—and flustered as well.

From that expression, Bera understood several things.

Trebo had prattled on like an expert about something he did not properly understand himself. Bera had swallowed it whole and spent the entire week following that half-baked advice.

... In the end, he had indeed discovered a new way to use divine energy. The time had been meaningful in its own right too.

Yet he could not help feeling he had been duped.

Seething, Bera glared at Trebo and cursed inwardly.

'You bastard!'

Was he a con artist rather than a lunatic? As Bera stared at Trebo with anger boiling within him...

“Bah, tsk, tsk. Not a single useful one among you.”

Bargo added another sneer.

Bera clenched his fist tighter, tendons standing out across it.

* * *

“Preparations are complete!”

Rohan’s announcement broke the gloomy atmosphere that had settled over the room.

Bera raised his head and looked at the spring behind Rohan.

No offerings or other objects had been placed around it. If anything had changed...

'A spellcraft array.'

Indigo divine energy spread above the spring, forming a spell formula.

It was an array created through sacred techniques. Presumably, it was needed to communicate with the divine realm. As Bera stared intently at it, Rohan spoke again.

“May I begin, then?”

“Yes. Begin.”

“Yes, sir! Come here, brat.”

Bera nodded at the summons and walked up to the spring.

“What do I need to do?”

“Just stand still. When I activate the spell formula, the revelation will appear above the spring. All you have to do is read it aloud.”

So that was how it worked.

Realizing that this was one-way communication rather than an exchange, Bera felt a small pang of regret.

It seemed he would not be able to ask the gods questions as he had hoped.

As his expression darkened slightly, Rohan set the spell formula in motion, and the array floating above the spring began to glow.

The array, an interconnected mass of geometric patterns, began changing shape.

Various many-sided forms that seemed impossible to fit together shifted into position and began interlocking. Then, within the gap created by their overlap at the center of the array...

'... Letters.'

They began to appear.

Indigo letters.

At first as indistinct as ink dissolved in water, they gradually took on clear shapes, until at last they became legible.

His future course would be determined by the words that appeared here—by the trial they set before him.

Thinking that, Bera watched tensely for some time. Then...

'...?'

He furrowed his brow at the completed text.

The words slipped from his mouth.

“... I have a question.”

“Huh? What is it? Hurry up. This is tiring.”

“Does it sometimes appear like this?”

As he spoke, Bera pointed at the letters floating above the spring.

“What’s it say?”

Rohan straightened from working the array.

“... Huh?”

Upon checking the spring, he let out a sound of utter bewilderment.

His mouth opened and closed, unable to stay shut. Then he turned toward Bargo.

“Um, Your Holiness?”

“What?”

Rohan looked at Bera again. After another glance at the letters above the spring, he turned back to Bargo and scratched the back of his head.

“It says ‘Passed,’ sir?”

Bargo’s expression froze.

As Bera watched their exchange, oddly enough, he found more pleasure in the bewilderment on the old man’s face than concern over the inexplicable situation.

Indeed.

The text floating above the spring read [Passed].

Just that one word.