bantayden Chapter 347
Chapter 347
Chapter 347
"If you're Pleroma yourself, why do you say such things?"
"Is there any reason an unidentified nobleman who claims to have come from Berlin through Austria-Hungary to Munich-Freising can't understand that?"
"……."
"It seems you find it absurd that a Pleroma—who should be nothing but evil—would speak of righteousness. I find it remarkable that you'd even attempt to conclude whether I'm good or evil when we've barely just met. Does it matter? If I'm on your side, I'm a saint no matter what I do, and if not, I'm a villain. The heroes of a nation's past become today's butchers, and the heretics of yesterday become the pioneers of this era. Have you never been conscious of how childishly subjective and how laughably mutable that standard is, living in an age when history's judgment flips on ideology like the back of one's hand? So then, am I someone who shouldn't even harbor resentment toward Pleroma in your view—simply because I drink blood?"
"……."
As if you wouldn't ask in my position.
But I had no intention of saying he was wrong and I was right, or of agreeing that every word he said was correct. I already knew full well that where his words were heading passed straight through me and pointed at his own memories. Whether spoken to the world or to himself or perhaps to both, it was an incantation cast not at me but at something beyond. It wasn't a story only I could perceive. Anyone would have experienced throwing words that could never reach a past self dragged out from some corner of time and space, and at such moments, one knows what words carry and what sound they come wrapped in. Mecklenburg seemed to have already sensed it too, for rather than filling his face with questions, he merely watched the man's back with guarded eyes.
"Believe my words or not, as you please. I harbor no regret even if you see me as a liar, a sophist, or a fraud."
Every word is a clue. Ultimately, his words, combined with the actions he'd shown so far, explained to me why he would be serving as Bishop of Osnabrück seven years from now. He had already transcended judgment—even the judgment he passed on himself. If it were anyone else, the interpretation would differ, but considering the future he had shown and the words he had shared with me, this became quite dangerous. In other words, he lacked even the minimum controller that should rightfully exist. Or, paradoxically, he was blindly craving nothing but that very thing. I could only hope this was merely my misjudgment.CRASH—
Before a room where only critical secrets were kept, protected by all manner of security magic, Ainsidel threw open the thick door as if smashing it and chanted an incantation.
—Seek, and you will find.
Divine Power surged out beneath his Staff. I had seen his Divine Power before in Osnabrück, but unlike the murky Divine Power I'd witnessed then, this light was bright.
"Brandenburg Archdiocese."
When he said that, lights flickered across the room that had been growing dark as his Divine Power faded. Ainsidel began pulling out documents from the nearest bookshelf. I pulled everything filed in the shelves opposite his and committed it all to memory, then opened the Suggestion window a little later. The gauge had filled only two minutes. When conversation paused, it didn't count.
'A conversation….'
Thinking about the state of our earlier exchange, I needed to examine this more carefully. Now was the time to be suspicious of why the system had given me a 30-minute conversation as a Suggestion. Why not tell me to raise his Favorability since we happened to meet? Why not tell me to spend days conversing and win his heart? I thought now was precisely when that should happen, and the system could certainly argue for me to conquer Ainsidel, so why did it suggest a mere 30-minute conversation? The system had even suggested raising Elias's Favorability when it was obviously already high, so why hadn't it done the same for this person of interest? It acts like it sees through everything, so why did it call for only 30 minutes…?
Countless thoughts raced through my mind, and ultimately converged on a single conclusion. No matter what I did, Ainsidel wouldn't participate willingly in conversation. The system wasn't even hoping for anything beyond 30 minutes right now. What I could do was naturally extract information from Ainsidel before his patience—estimated by the system at 30 minutes—ran out.
And I mustn't forget the primary objective. The greatest reason and goal for coming here was to obtain Munich-Freising's information. This was certainly tied to our safety as well, so while diverting some degree of attention was permissible, the priorities must never be inverted.
'Well, at any rate, the materials are definitely useful.'
I was naturally accounting for the seven-year time gap when I said that. This room seemed to store only the most classified of secrets, so there wasn't much inside, which meant I didn't need to rummage through things selectively—I could just commit everything to memory. I asked while flipping through the materials.
"Before taking us on as comrades, what were you originally planning to do to this diocese?"
"I intended to quietly seize the archives. I might encounter the council of bishops in the process, but that wouldn't have been a problem."
"I see. Then what was the reason for stirring things up all the way to this depth?"
"First, since you told your friend you'd topple this diocese, it wouldn't do to only achieve my goal."
"…How thoughtful."
"Second, it's been a long time since I've had a mage moving alongside me…. I don't know. Is this what people call being pleased?"
"Even if you ask me that, I wouldn't know. Then, where will you go once you leave here?"
"And you?"
"I'll return to where I was living. For now."
I said that and immediately asked.
"You wish for Pleroma to vanish from the world, yet why do you intend to remain within Pleroma?"
"Let's set aside how you knew I intended to remain."
Ainsidel muttered as if picking a bone, then said nothing more. When I raised my head to look at him, his gaze was fixed on a book, studying it and nothing else. I gave up on getting an answer and was about to move to another section when his voice reached me, low and quiet.
"Because the ambition of the person I seek pierces the heavens, and no words could possibly turn that heart."
"……."
"I have no choice but to lose to fate. If just one thing remains by my side, I can gladly give up anything."
I knew at once. He was talking about someone I knew. The person I had driven to the brink of death. It felt as though the young Federal Council assemblyman from Mecklenburg-Schwerin—whose ambition once pierced the heavens—was hovering in this space. The contaminated mosquito from Mepen, and its butterfly effect, still lingered at my side. I slowly closed and opened my eyes, forcing the letters on the paper—those black strokes that kept trying to bounce away—into my head. Committing the name Werner Strauch to memory was a poor choice. I parted my lips.
"What is it about that person that makes you act?"
Ainsidel didn't answer. Only the sound of turning pages split the silence. I could understand well enough why. Even I would never bring out something from deep within myself in front of a temporary comrade. To see what was inside someone else, I had to show my own first. Even then, I might not hear what I wanted. I—in a place like this, before someone who wasn't a friend—spoke words I had never, ever wanted to let leave my mouth.
"I lived a life where nothing in this world remained for me."
The sound of a page turning. I felt it render my words hollow, yet I continued all the same.
"What was the problem? There must be many causes, so even I don't know. I realized, belatedly, that I didn't even feel indignation at being different from others. Not because I was mature. It wasn't that I started at zero and moved to the next zero—I had been at zero the entire time, so no one ever saw what was in between. The resentment that a human naturally feels while growing, the drive to improve, the hatred, the love, the desire to be loved—I had none of it, and I came to know, absurdly enough because I had nothing, that those things are the most vital fuel for a human's continued existence. And yet I don't even think about trying to obtain them."
I let my tongue, which I'd been forcibly dragging along, rest. I wouldn't speak of what came next. The person who should hear the next part of the story first was none other than me. Me and my friends.
Whether that alone was enough, Ainsidel, who had kept his eyes on his book the entire time, set it down and raised his head to look at me. I looked straight into his blue eyes and asked.
"So I'm curious how you came to possess such an intense goal. What about that person brought you all the way here?"
Mecklenburg was watching me with dazed eyes. He must have been wondering why I was saying such things here, but right now, I had to. Ainsidel stared at me, then turned his gaze back to the bookshelf.
"That person was the only one who treated me as a person."
"……."
"I was someone who wasn't treated as a person, so I didn't even know I could have such thoughts—but that wasn't the case."
So he hasn't yet to meet Werner Strauch—he's already met him. Given how sensitively he reacts regarding Werner Strauch, questions about the man must be handled carefully. I nodded, and after a long pause, spoke.
"Will you be going to Osnabrück?"
"Osnabrück?"
Ainsidel echoed back disinterestedly. Judging by his tone, he had no plans to go to Osnabrück. I'd assumed he would head there to find Werner Strauch, but if not, then where on earth was Werner Strauch?
Come to think of it, it was also strange for a Federal Council assemblyman like Strauch to be in the Osnabrück diocese. He, too, should have been in the Brandenburg Archdiocese or the Hamburg Archdiocese, where the Duchy of Mecklenburg-Schwerin was located. Yet he suddenly moved west to the Osnabrück diocese?
CRASH—!
"They've arrived."
Ainsidel dropped his book carelessly and slammed his Staff down. We who had been underground were now on the first floor. I grabbed Mecklenburg's arm and switched my Wand to a Staff. As expected, breaching the coordinate system was the single most essential task in combating a Pleroma diocese.
CRASH—!
Not that I had time for such leisurely thoughts. Black mucus was streaming down my barrier, dissolving the Magic Power. The trim on the cassocks of those standing beyond the barrier was pink. Some wore purple.
'…Monsignors and bishops….'
They'd certainly all gathered. Some of them would be in Pleroma's 'center'—the order's leadership—seven years from now, while some would remain in Munich-Freising. They would grow in the seven years between, but this was still a sufficiently valuable experience.
CRASH— SPLAT—
The viscous impact sound unique to Vitriol made me grimace involuntarily. The innermost barrier shattered from the impact, and I repositioned Mecklenburg behind me before slamming my Staff down once more.
[Fear not, for I am with you.]
A dome-shaped barrier enveloped us. Beyond it, Ainsidel was already engaging the Monsignors with Vitriol, swinging a sword alone among them. Every time I blinked, their positions kept shifting. Not simply because they were running, but….
"Hey, those heretics…!"
"They're warping."
"Yeah!"
SLASH—
Mecklenburg shouted as he cut down a black tendril flying toward him. Knowing full well I was asking something insane—to hold off multiple opponents—I yelled at him anyway.
"Buy me some time!"
"What?!"
"Buy me time!"
"You…!"
CRASH—!! CREAK, THUD—
The barrier let out a grotesque sound as it was pushed back. Whether it was because he had no combat experience or otherwise, the runner-up at the Imperial Second Academy proved his worth—Mecklenburg slipped out of the barrier without breaking it and began firing spells at them with fine precision. I stood rooted to the spot and slammed my Staff into the floor.
BOOM—
[The word of the Lord came to me: Son of man, set your face against Mount Seir; prophesy against it and say.]
"AAAARGH!"
Following Mecklenburg's furious scream came the sound of blades clashing. The bishops and Monsignors warped here and there, dodging Mecklenburg's attacks. No matter how skilled the bastard was, I couldn't leave him to face them all. I poured force steadily into my Staff and continued the preparatory incantation. Blue Magic Power began seeping endlessly into the floor.
[This is what the Sovereign Lord says: I am against you, Mount Seir, and I will stretch out my hand against you and make you a desolate waste.]
"Ugh…!"
CREAK—the sound of blades scraping against each other. Mecklenburg barely twisted his body to receive the sword. He saw the Vitriol coursing over the blade and quickly landed backward. In that instant, his face contorted. A Monsignor in jet-black cassock had warped into the space that had been empty a moment ago. A sword swooped toward Mecklenburg's head, and I witnessed his eyes—wide open and fixed straight ahead—flood with horror.
CRASH—
[I will turn your towns into ruins and you will be desolate. Then you will know that I am the Lord!]
Blue Magic Power that had been lurking somewhere surged up through the floor and blanketed the ground. A spell to block spatial warping. The afterimages created by the countless clergy warping all around were wiped clean, and confusion erupted everywhere. The instant the Monsignor's attention snapped elsewhere upon noticing the anomaly, Mecklenburg's sword hand slashed violently upward on a diagonal.
CLANG— SLASH—
"AAAARGH!"
A Monsignor who had failed to warp at the right moment clutched his arm and rolled across the floor. Blood and Vitriol gushed wildly. The color drained from Mecklenburg's face when he saw the blood on his sword.
"……."
So this is what this guy was like at the beginning. It felt strangely unfamiliar. Mecklenburg chanted several incantations and switched his sword to a Staff. Orange Magic Power stood out jarringly in this dark space, and frenzied screams could be heard. Then a Monsignor caught my eye—thrusting out his hand, not a Wand, as he rushed at Mecklenburg's barrier.
'Why his hand instead of a Wand…?'
CRASH—!
His body was faster than I'd thought, and the moment I shoved the Monsignor back with Magic Power, I clenched my teeth. The floor hit the back of my head.
'Goddamn it….'
Thank God Mecklenburg, the least skilled among us, wasn't the one who got hit. There was someone who could make electricity run through Magic Power. If we dragged that mage off and handed him over to a university, science could advance rapidly.
—The prayer offered in faith will restore the one who is sick.
Ainsidel's Divine Power flowed in from far away, and the shock that had entered my body and my rigid muscles loosened at once. When the light cleared, the Monsignor was at Ainsidel's feet, and Ainsidel was pulling out the sword he'd driven through the man's heart, swinging it through the air. Blood splattered into the void.
CLANG— BOOM—!
He engaged yet another Monsignor charging at him. Judging by skill alone, his past self was stronger than his future one. That was worth noting.
'…Whatever the case, good.'
At the very least, I'd avoided the future where I entered this diocese in reality and got fried by the electricity user. Those kinds of people were exactly why I'd had to turn back time multiple times. The silver lining was that through Ainsidel, I'd discovered the ability worked on Magic Power but not on Divine Power—or at least was less effective against it. A Magic Power user couldn't beat that man regardless of skill, but one could simply use Divine Power, which was structurally different from Magic Power.
CRASH—!
I swatted away the black glob of mud hurtling toward me with Magic Power and rose to my feet.
'That's enough of them.'
If they hadn't revealed any unique abilities despite over five bodies already on the floor, they were nobody worth worrying about, and if they were saving them for last, I'd confirm it then. I quickly surveyed my surroundings. Ainsidel was engaging two bishops. Tracing back the number of people I'd counted when they first warped in, there should be one more bishop in this space, but….
I raised my head and spotted a mage on the second floor, tilting his Wand downward. He was continuously chanting some incantation, and the trim on his cassock was a shade darker than those on the bodies littering the floor. Good—I now had certainty on how to finish this. I slammed my Staff into the floor at once.
[Have you commanded the morning since your days began?]
"…!"
"Ugh!"
Mecklenburg squinted against the blue light that burst from the Staff and shoved away a Pleroma charging at him.
[And caused the dawn to know its place, that it might take hold of the ends of the earth, and the wicked be shaken out of it?]
I watched the black mud erupting through the light and channeled Magic Power through the Staff.
[The earth takes shape like clay under a seal; its features stand out like those of a garment.]
CRASH—….
Something like the sound of waves surrounded me. A chilling breeze pushed through my clothes and covered my skin.
[The wicked are denied their light, and their upraised arm is broken!]
BOOM— WHOOSH—
The black Vitriol that had been slicing through the air crumbled into sand and scattered. Then it spread not just before me but across the entire archive, and the sound of the air being displaced in one blow shook my ears with a heavy rumble. The shrieks the Pleroma were letting out were buried within it. I immediately gripped the Staff with both hands, swung it in a full revolution, and spoke another incantation.
[The Lord Almighty will punish them with thunder and earthquake and great noise, with windstorm and tempest and flames of devouring fire.]
The air turned blue as if I were underwater. It felt like being inside the deep blue sky just before dawn. I slammed the Staff violently into the floor.
[Then the hordes of all the nations that fight against Ariel, that attack her and her fortress and besiege her, will be as it is with a dream, with a vision in the night—.]
CRASH—….
The explosion deafened my ears, cutting off sounds that should have been audible. I gazed at the pillars of blue fire blazing all around me and only now felt the Pleroma's screams engulfing my ears.
"Aaargh…."
"…!"
BOOM—
Mecklenburg—whether from sharp instinct or because of his experience at the cathedral earlier—had layered multiple barriers around himself, and only now collapsed to the floor, every ounce of energy drained from his face. I blasted Divine Power into his back and dragged him toward Ainsidel, who was watching the flames blazing toward the high ceiling from the opposite side.
"……."
Ainsidel took him and chanted a healing incantation. Mecklenburg could be seen waking. Ainsidel helped him to his feet, then asked me with an unreadable smile.
"You clearly knew how, so why didn't you do that from the start?"
I understood immediately what he meant. Should I tell this man that there existed timelines where I'd cast wide-area magic without considering unique abilities and gotten wiped out? I didn't answer. It was time to interrogate the bishop on the upper floor, but….
'This bastard's eyes are a bit peculiar.'
Ainsidel's gaze as it swept over me held a strangely curious interest. Having reached my judgment, I adjusted my grip on my Wand and opened my mouth. Or rather, I tried to, but an empty voice cut in between.
—Truly I tell you.
"…!"
That wasn't an incantation I had spoken. My vision spun. It was an incantation I'd never heard before, but seeing its effect, I knew. This was….
—Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
BOOM—
Ainsidel's brand of mental manipulation magic. No—the degree was excessive. Far more than ordinary mental manipulation magic….
'No.'
CRACK—
I felt the thread of consciousness leaving my grasp and bit down on my tongue. The Ainsidel I had met before was not a mage of this caliber. The man who had fallen for my mental manipulation magic head-on was actually stronger in the past? No, this wasn't the time to think about that.
[Something doesn't add up.]
Ainsidel's voice droned from somewhere far away.
[You have absolutely no qualms about killing…. As if you've been through this kind of standoff dozens, hundreds of times.]
"……."
[What you showed earlier wasn't magic just anyone could perform. No matter how I look at it, it's familiar. Isn't that right? Were we ever in there together at some point? I need to know that.]
So you're asking if I'm Pleroma. That you've met me in the Pleroma world—when did you? I was never Pleroma to begin with, and you won't until seven years from now…. His words tangled together in my head. He drew a blade and sliced horizontally across the four fingers of his left hand. Blood burst out and streamed down, and it seemed to drip onto my face. I couldn't breathe, couldn't make sense of anything anymore. Blood—a lump of flesh drenched in blood—forced its way past my lips and pressed down on my throat. Blood laced with Magic Power wet my tongue.
[We'll find out if you drink. Drink.]
[Kgh, gkh…!]
I was certain I'd been swatting his hand away—that's what my consciousness told me—but the hands of my body refused to obey my will. Ainsidel's ceaseless murmuring of mental manipulation magic was bleaching my consciousness white.
[…….]
Now no sound could be heard at all.
You asked why I didn't use wide-area magic from the start when I clearly knew how. This man is overlooking something. Because I never know who might have what ability, I had to be cautious. The Magic Power in the blood vessels adjacent to where the blood had flowed in was surging wildly. Feeling the revulsion buried under drowsiness being washed away by an inexplicable euphoria of liberation, I opened my eyes.
CRASH—!!