Chapter 13 - Revelation - 3

Back at the cabin, Bera sat at the table, lost in thought.

The revelation had ended in a flurry of activity after Bargo dismissed everyone. Before leaving, Bargo had told Bera to come see him alone the next day.

It had been obvious at a glance: that revelation was not normal. Bera was not so stupid that he could fail to pick up on that much from the atmosphere.

Once again, the word that had appeared above the spring came to mind.

'Passed...'

It must have meant he had passed the trial. He had passed despite doing absolutely nothing.

That gave Bera some measure of an answer to one of his questions: who had intervened in his Regression?

'The gods in heaven.'

They were involved. He still could not be certain why. But by informing him that he had passed when he had yet to prove anything, they had allowed him to infer that they already knew about him.

He could faintly discern what they might have meant to convey through that word.

'By saying I passed... '

Were they trying to tell him he was on the right path?

A hollow laugh suddenly caught in his throat, brought on by a helpless weariness rising within him.

He had previously said that if the Supreme God truly had sent him back to save her, he would gladly play along. That had not changed.

Yet questions remained. He could not be sure it was right to follow only the path they laid out for him, and that uncertainty left him feeling drained.

He recalled what Bargo had said when they first met.

["You're like a puppet without a mind of its own, aren't you?"]

His hand clenched into a tight fist.

He could think of nothing to refute those words. Bera gently closed his eyes and looked into the soul dwelling within him.

An ink-black soul, with a golden oath inscribed upon it.

[I will live for the Saintess.]

An oath made in a surge of emotion, his mind hazy as death loomed right before him.

He did not regret it. No matter how many times he returned to that moment, he would make that oath in the end.

Why wouldn't he? After a life spent like a beast, following nothing but instinct, that light had finally shone upon him. Merely thinking of it stirred such a thirst within him.

His question was whether this was truly the way to fulfill that oath—whether simply obeying them was enough.

Bera still knew nothing of faith. He did not believe in the gods or their glory.

He might well be called an apostate. Even with his life restored, his sacred mark remained nothing more than a useful tool to him.

All Bera believed in was his own ability and the faint light that had shone upon him. Nothing more.

His doubts deepened. His thoughts churned, disturbing his inner world.

Was following the gods' intentions to the letter necessary to live for her?

Bera thought of someone who might answer this question he could not resolve alone. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

'... The Holy Emperor.'

Perhaps he would know the answer.

* * *

The next day, Bera found Bargo sitting on a long bench in the middle of the Grand Temple's southern garden. He approached, making his presence known.

Bargo had been staring absently at a flower bed, his expression subdued. Noticing Bera, he spoke.

"You're here."

"Yes."

Bera bowed his head.

"Well, from the look of you, you slept well."

"The Supreme God watched over me."

"Are you such a little brat that you can't even sleep properly unless the Supreme God looks after you?"

Bargo delivered the remark with a dry chuckle. Bera felt himself flinch, then raised his head again to look at him.

"Why did you summon me?"

"Here. Catch."

No sooner had Bera asked than Bargo took something from inside his robes and tossed it at him.

Bera caught the object, then opened his hand to examine it. Resting on his palm was something he had once found irritating: the platinum-colored rosary that had hung around the Saintess's neck.

'The token of an apostle.'

He looked from it back to Bargo, who spoke with a chuckle.

"I don't like the way you carry on one bit... but it says you passed, so you get this."

Bera watched him speak, then looked down at the rosary in his hand and quietly parted his lips.

"Is that all?"

"Why? Were you expecting a banquet? What have you done to deserve one?"

The words were brusque and provocative, but this time they did not anger him. What Bargo had said just before kept circling in his head.

"... Your Holiness, when the gods command something, do you simply obey?"

"Hmm? What are you talking about?"

Bera raised his head. His fist tightened.

He voiced the questions that had been weighing on him and constricting his chest ever since the revelation.

"Is it enough simply to obey? If I question their will, does that mean I'm wrong? Why don't you question it?"

The words spilled out one after another, mingled with resentment he had not meant to reveal.

The life he wanted was a life for the Saintess. A life spent pursuing the nobility that had embraced even a vile creature like him.

But if that required him to act according to the gods' intentions, to believe blindly and follow, what was that life for? Who was it for?

Should he call it a life for the Saintess, or a life for the gods?

It was a ridiculous question, a luxury afforded by a full stomach. He had never considered such things when hunger drove him to rummage through rubbish bins or prostrate himself on the street to beg.

Yet the constriction inside him would not let him suppress the question now that it had arisen, or simply keep following the open road.

Bera's face twisted into a deep frown. Again, he asked a question along the same lines.

"Do you truly believe that is right, Your Holiness?"

Silence settled over them after that question.

Bera pressed his lips together and stared at Bargo. Bargo studied him with unfathomable eyes.

Some more time passed before Bargo finally spoke.

"Let me ask you this. Did they show you a path through that revelation?"

Bera went abruptly still.

Had they shown him a path? Could he really say that?

There were things too uncertain for him to give a definite yes.

Had they been involved in his Regression? He could answer that it was highly likely.

Had they conveyed their intentions to him through the revelation in the Holy Empire? He could answer yes.

But were they showing him a path? To that, his answer was, "I don't know."

Had that revelation truly pointed him in the direction he ought to go? To that, the answer was, "They said nothing."

"... I don't know."

The gods had remained silent. They had merely presented him with a situation.

"Did they decide what was right and wrong for you?"

At the next question, Bera lowered his head slightly and answered.

"... No."

Not once, in his previous life or this one, had they told him what was right or wrong.

"Then why do you say they showed you a path?"

"..."

"Why are you asking why you must follow their will?"

Bera could no longer give an answer.

Why had he thought that?

That question alone lingered.

"Boy."

Bargo's voice rang out. Bera raised his head at the call and looked at him.

"... Yes."

"Let me ask you. Why did you think your own judgment belonged to someone else?"

At that question, Bera felt his mind go blank. It was as though every thought had been bleached white.

Bargo continued.

"Do you know? The gods are not beings who give us answers."

Bera looked at Bargo—at this strange old man chuckling as he said things utterly unlike a Holy Emperor.

"Quite the opposite, you might say. The gods pose questions. They ask you what you would do in a situation like this."

Bargo's words set Bera's thoughts in motion.

What had they presented him with?

'A situation.'

What had they hoped to achieve through it?

'... I don't know.'

Who had made every judgment about their intentions?

'... I did.'

His lungs seemed to tighten painfully. It was an absurdly simple question, yet he had never questioned it before.

Bera considered why that doubt had never occurred to him. Only after a long while could he piece together an answer.

It was all because of his own narrow-mindedness.

Bera had not believed in their omniscience.

But...

'... I believed in their omnipotence.'

He believed in their divine powers, in the strength of the sacred mark that had descended in tangible form.

Bera had assumed they would hold him in their grasp and manipulate him. They were beings fully capable of doing so, and to Bera, who had done nothing but take from others, those with power were those who took.

Bera continued thinking.

Who had made all those decisions?

To swear the oath, to head for the Holy Empire in his rewound life, to seek the position of an apostle...

'All of it... '

He had decided it himself.

"Let me ask you."

Bargo's voice continued.

"Of all the divine revelations you know, was there one where they determined right and wrong? Was there one where they gave an answer?"

Once again, Bera broadened his thinking.

The revelation given to Bargo: judge the evils of the world.

It had not said what constituted evil. That judgment had belonged entirely to Bargo.

The revelation given to the twins: understand the true meaning of protection.

It had given no answer as to what protection was. The judgment had belonged entirely to the twins.

The revelation given to the Saintess: bestow the Supreme God's divine powers upon the continent.

That revelation was no different. It had not explained how she should bestow them. That judgment, too, had belonged to the Saintess.

Only then did Bera begin to realize how narrow a view he had taken of the world.

Why had he judged it that way? Now he could answer.

'Because all I knew was how to resent.'

Because he wanted to excuse himself by saying the evil deeds of his previous life had not been entirely his fault.

'Because I wanted to escape responsibility.'

Because, despite swearing to bear its weight, he had wanted to turn away from that responsibility.

'Because I wanted to think the world made me that way.'

Coward that he was, he had needed someone to blame, and so he had hidden behind the name of fate.

His thoughts grew clearer. The strange oppression that had tormented him all this time seemed to ease a little.

Yet he still felt trapped in a pale haze. Looking at Bargo, Bera parted his lips.

"Then how... how should I make my own judgments?"

He did not know the answer for certain, and had asked in the hope that Bargo might.

"Why are you asking me that?"

All he received was a mocking chuckle.

Bera bowed his head even lower and spoke again.

"Please teach me."

The words emerged as an earnest plea.

Bera had realized something. He knew nothing beyond the limits of his own awareness. Only what he had seen and experienced made up his world.

And so, for the first time in his life, Bera thought that he needed another person's teachings. He needed a teacher who could show him the world he did not know, who could broaden his understanding.

Bera's knees touched the ground. Kneeling with his head bowed low, he continued.

"... There is something I desperately want to understand. Something I want to pursue. But I am far too lacking to follow it."

He was not yet worthy of standing beside the Saintess.

If he met her as he was now, he would still be the vile creature he had been back then—a fucking fool no different on the inside.

Never mind standing beside her; he would be panting just to keep up behind her.

"There is something I want to devote the rest of my life to protecting. My strength is far too meager to pursue it."

He still did not understand a protector's sword. His sword was still like the fangs of a savage beast.

"So I beg you, in all earnestness."

To become a man worthy of standing beside her...

"Please teach me."

He had to change.

A long silence followed.

Bera kept his head lowered, staring at the ground for a long time as he waited for an answer.

Then, at last...

"... You really are a troublesome little boy."

Bargo answered.

Only then could Bera lift his head. Before him, Bargo was clicking his tongue, a smile forming on his lips.

The answer that followed made Bera bow his head once more.

"I will not teach you. So follow me around and learn for yourself."

Words that could be taken as permission.

Bera clenched his fist so tightly that the rosary in his hand pressed into his skin, and answered.

"Thank you."

Only after living through an entire lifetime did Bera learn how to seek instruction.

... And so, four years passed.