Chapter 6 - The Holy Empire of Elia

'... So this is it.'

At the edge of his vision stood white walls, with two holy knights in pure white armor stationed before the gate at their center.

The Holy Empire of Elia.

The smallest nation on the continent. The largest temple on the continent.

It was called the smallest nation because its entire territory consisted of a single citadel, and the largest temple because that entire citadel was one temple.

After riding for an entire week to reach this place, Bera felt a sudden swell of emotion at the white citadel in the distance. He had never dreamed he would come here of his own accord.

If not for the Saintess—if not for the bond that had reached him only at the end of his life—he would never have given this place a second glance.

The reason he had never come here in his previous life... was that he had had too much to lose by joining the Holy Empire.

Its clergy were forbidden to engage in private economic activity, lest greed for wealth taint their faith. Nor could they acquire noble titles, lest those acting on behalf of the gods become blinded by a lust for power.

All he could gain by becoming a holy knight here was honor. Nothing more.

And so Bera had spent his entire life concealing his sacred mark. Throughout that life, what he had wanted was wealth and power.

In other words, luxury and pleasure.

As his thoughts continued, a faint chuckle escaped his lips.

'You've brought me all the way here.'

He thought of the Saintess, a woman who could fairly be called a magnificent eccentric.

Four years from now, on the day the Saintess received her sacred mark, he would go to welcome her.

To keep his oath. To follow the light that had shone upon him only at the end of his life.

And what he needed to do that was...

'... Rank.'

He needed a rank high enough to lead the procession sent to welcome the Saintess. In other words, he needed the authority to command holy knights.

He had no concerns about whether he could rise that far within four years. He already possessed everything he needed to become a citizen of Elia and a holy knight.

The sacred mark of oaths bestowed upon him.

That alone was enough.

Showing it would grant him immediate access to the Holy Emperor. There, he could have his standing as an apostle recognized.

Since the divine powers of the oath were heavily geared toward combat, once he revealed his sacred mark and assumed his position as an apostle, the rank of holy knight would come with it.

Still thinking, Bera slowly made his way toward Elia's gate.

'Wait for me.'

In four years, he would come to see her. He would not let her die miserably as she had before. He would not let her live hidden away in the gutter like that.

He would place her in the most glorious seat, and at her side, finally live something he could call a life.

As those thoughts continued, the distance between Bera and the holy knights guarding the gate shrank to roughly five paces.

THUD.

Both holy knights struck the ground with their halberds in unison.

"Halt. What brings you here?"

Bera looked at the two stern-faced holy knights. Twins with identical features: brown hair, brown eyes, square jaws, and sturdy builds.

Even Bera knew their names. They had been so famous in his previous life that he could hardly have avoided knowing them. They were among the apostles who, like him, had received sacred marks—the pillars of the Holy Empire.

'Krek. Marek.'

The twin holy knights Krek and Marek, apostles of Peiron, the god of protection. The gatekeepers of the Holy Empire, who had become apostles by sharing a single sacred mark.

When the Demon King had appeared and swept across the continent in his previous life, these two alone had held back the armies invading the Holy Empire. Human siege-defense weapons.

Feeling strangely moved to meet in person the men he had only heard rumors of back then, Bera raised his right arm and rolled up his sleeve. He had no intention of offering a lengthy explanation.

As the twins gaped at the sacred mark inscribed on his arm, he said simply,

"I have been bestowed a sacred mark."

That was enough.

* * *

An insular nation at the southernmost tip of the continent, where no one but clergy could even enter.

An oddly structured nation whose clergy obtained all the food and supplies needed for daily life while away on assignments, and whose entire clerical population lived on what they brought back.

A nation that would have collapsed within a year had it not been a gathering place for those granted divine powers by the gods.

Such was the Holy Empire of Elia.

Thus, even though Bera had visited every nation on the continent in his previous life, this was his first time entering the Holy Empire. He had stepped inside with a little anticipation, but...

'... Just the sort of place to drive you insane.'

That anticipation shattered the moment he entered.

Bera looked appalled at the broad avenue stretching out beyond the gate.

White here, white there. Every building in the Holy Empire was white.

Of course, the roadside trees, flowers, and other greenery kept it from being entirely white. Even so, the glaring white buildings filled him with revulsion.

As he walked along with his brow furrowed, a voice spoke out of nowhere.

"I am Krek."

It was the twin walking on his right along the avenue.

When Bera turned toward him, Krek gave a small nod and continued.

"I received the sacred mark of protection. I am undergoing apostle training."

His speech was oddly choppy.

Naturally, a thought surfaced in Bera's mind.

'Is he an idiot?'

It was not just the way he spoke. His vacant eyes, his flaring nostrils, and the fact that he had not even noticed his cape caught on his halberd made him look so stupid it hardly needed saying.

Bera watched him for a moment, then decided there was no need to point any of that out. He ignored Krek's appearance and merely returned the introduction.

"... I'm Bera."

"We have met. I am pleased."

"I am Marek."

The second voice came from the other side. Seeing Marek stare blankly at him after speaking, Bera quickly reached a conclusion.

'A matching pair of idiots.'

Their silence until now had made him assume they were the taciturn sort. Apparently, they were simply dim.

"I am also undergoing apostle training."

"... Yes."

Nothing more followed.

Having said their pieces, the twins guided Bera to the Grand Temple at the end of the avenue, then headed back toward the gate.

Even as he left, Krek still had not noticed his cape caught on his halberd.

They had made a brief but powerful impression.

'... Those are apostles?'

Did the god of protection like idiots?

Wondering just what criteria the gods used when bestowing sacred marks, Bera remembered the god of oaths who had given him his own. An irreverent thought followed: perhaps all the gods were fucking morons.

He let out a small, amused breath at the thought. As he looked around the Grand Temple alone, his gaze settled on a mural covering one wall.

It depicted nine figures seated upon an enormous altar.

'... The nine gods.'

That was who the mural portrayed. The nine gods, led by the Supreme God—the transcendent beings who had created the continent and sustained it.

At the very center stood the Supreme God, a figure surrounded by light. Beside that figure were one holding a mace and another holding a shield.

One held fruit in a hand; another carried an enormous book.

As his gaze traveled farther along, he saw a figure unlike the other gods, its entire body shrouded in robes and its face concealed. Bera knew at once who it was.

'Rushan.'

Rushan, the god of oaths.

There was the god who had bestowed his sacred mark upon him—the supreme fucking moron, by Bera's reckoning.

As he looked at Rushan, a question that had always lingered in a corner of his mind resurfaced.

What in the world had Rushan been thinking when he bestowed a sacred mark on him? Why give one to a selfish wretch who cared for no one but himself?

A question he had carried his entire life but never answered.

'... No.'

A question he had never even tried to answer.

As Bera stared absently at the mural with that question rising once more, a voice reached him.

"The Oath has no face, you see."

Turning toward the voice, Bera spotted a frail-looking man who could have passed for a scholar, and flinched.

'... I didn't sense him.'

There had been no footsteps. No disturbance from his breathing. Not even a sense of his presence.

That remained true even now that Bera had noticed him. It was an unfamiliar sensation: someone stood right before his eyes, yet he could sense no presence whatsoever.

'Who is he?'

Pale blue hair, red eyes. Snow-white priestly robes.

His presence in the Grand Temple suggested a high-ranking priest, but Bera knew nothing about him.

As his rising wariness sharpened his senses, the man smiled and continued.

"Do you know why?"

The question followed from his earlier remark.

Bera watched the newcomer for a moment, then clenched and unclenched his fists to ease his tension before speaking.

"... I'm not sure."

"Because promises have no form. Thus the Oath, who embodies those promises, has no face."

As he spoke, the man approached Bera and traced a small holy sign over his chest in greeting.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am Trebo, administrator of the Grand Temple."

"... I'm Bera."

"The twins told me about you. Might I ask to see your sacred mark?"

His voice was full of warmth and laughter. Bera nodded and rolled up his sleeve to reveal the mark, whereupon Trebo, who had been smiling all this time, began behaving strangely.

There was no warning. The instant the sacred mark appeared, before even a fraction of a moment had passed, his expression transformed.

His red pupils trembled in Bera's view. His face crumpled. His shoulders shook.

"Ah, aaah..."

Startled by Trebo's sudden behavior, Bera took a step back.

THUMP.

Trebo dropped to his knees and began to wail.

"Aaaaaah...!!!"

Bera flinched, his body trembling at the sight of Trebo suddenly kneeling and sobbing at the top of his lungs.

'He's a lunatic.'

The thought filled his mind.

Naturally. Anyone capable of normal thought would have reached the same conclusion. How could anyone regard a man who burst into such wailing without warning as sane?

"The hand of the Supreme God has descended upon this land, and I am overcome by that grace..."

As Trebo wept and repeatedly traced the holy sign, Bera could not help wondering whether coming here had been the right decision.

The twin apostles he had met at the gate. The mad priest he had met in the Grand Temple.

Every last one of them had a screw loose. These people were harmful.

As revulsion rose from deep within him, Bera suddenly wondered whether these people were the reason the Saintess had become such a strange woman.

'... That makes sense.'

The Saintess had been truly noble and compassionate, but setting those qualities aside, she had not been so different from the people he had seen here.

Someone with a screw loose, whose thoughts he could never fathom.

That was the Saintess he had spent those days with.

Bera recalled once more the thought he had had on entering this place.

A city of pure white, just the sort of place to drive someone insane.

The Saintess was blind and could not see it, of course. But living in a place like this, surrounded by these near-lunatics, could certainly have turned her into such an eccentric.

He wanted to leave at once. His past self had been right. Thoughts like those surfaced in his mind.

Yet even as they did, one thought made him force himself to endure.

'If I let the Saintess keep living among these bastards...'

She would turn out just like them.

Bera clenched his fists.

'... No.'

That absolutely could not happen.