Chapter 90

Chapter 90

Deep beneath the city of Rosario—a name shared by both the Holy Kingdom and its capital—a man stood within an enormous underground grotto, a place where a complex web of water channels met. His kind expression was at odds with the gloomy surroundings. The man, adorned with a pendant bearing the moon crest of Sironia and clad in dark, formal vestments, was Rosario’s head cardinal, Anderde.

“You’re here.”

A quiet utterance echoed as a second figure, completely shrouded in a black cloak, emerged from the darkness of the cave.

“Ah, as I thought, I couldn’t escape the cardinal’s notice.”

The masked individual, his eyes crinkling with a playful look, approached Anderde with a relaxed gesture.

Thud—

A container dropped at Anderde’s feet. It was of a moderate size, yet it immediately captured his focus.

“Go ahead, have a look,” the masked man urged.

Anderde crouched down to inspect the container. Lifting its lid, he let out an involuntary, soft exclamation. “Oh…”

The box was filled with a great multitude of Abyssal Cores, their count surely more than fifty. After a brief moment of stunned silence, Anderde shut the lid and stood up, offering a deep, respectful bow.

“My thanks, brother. With this, our plans can move forward.”

“I am glad to hear it. You referred to the Birth Rite, is that right?”

“Indeed, assuming no changes to the timetable.”

In response to Anderde’s words, the masked man gave a slight shrug and started to turn away, but then he stopped and posed a question. “Would you mind if I asked you something?”

“By all means, ask anything.”

Anderde’s calm smile seemed to give him permission, and after a short pause, the masked man spoke.

“I find myself wondering why a cardinal would take part in such an endeavor. If the question is too intrusive, you need not answer.”

Anderde delayed for a moment before replying, “To find deliverance.”

“Deliverance?”

The masked man echoed him, which prompted Anderde to explain further.

“Brother, what is your view of the divine?”

“Well… to be perfectly honest, I haven’t spent much time considering it.”

“I hold that the divine is unjust.”

The remark was startling, particularly from the chief cardinal.

“Allow me to pose a question to you.”

The masked man stayed quiet, giving Anderde his full attention as he went on.

“There are those who pray to the divine each day. Some visit temples to offer their devotions, some battle to defend the divine’s honor, and others walk difficult paths to complete missions given in the divine’s name.”

“Others forsake a sick elder to make a pilgrimage to the sacred land, or take lives against their conscience to uphold the divine’s command.”

“Some, starving for days, plead for even spoiled bread to ease their hunger, while others pray for the recovery of the ill.”

Anderde’s voice continued, telling one story after another of different individuals, their hardships spilling out in an unending stream until, at last, he directed his final question to the masked man.

“All these people have faith in Sironia and offer their prayers. Which of them, in your opinion, would be granted divine assistance?”

While the masked man considered the question, Anderde, still wearing his tranquil smile, added, “Do not strain yourself; there is no right answer among the possibilities I have listed.”

“…What?”

The masked man appeared puzzled by Anderde’s abrupt clarification, but Anderde kept speaking.

“As I stated, there is no correct answer. The Divine, specifically Sironia, does not offer a hand of rescue to anyone. She acts solely according to her own desires.”

A look of bitterness passed over Anderde’s face.

“The gods are like that. Faith, no matter how deeply held or for how long, is irrelevant. Even if a person believes in Sironia for a lifetime, if they do not win her favor, they are granted neither strength nor blessing.”

“But, on the other hand, if she takes a liking to someone, they may be given power even without faith. It is as if belief means nothing to them, and divine favor is given out on a mere whim.”

“Gods are such creatures—unmoved by sincere prayers, devotion, self-sacrifice, or martyrdom, using their power only for their own purposes.”

After a short silence, Anderde smiled once more, an expression that was both tender and pious.

“That is the reason for my choice.”

In a voice filled with deep empathy and reverence, he stated, “That is why I plan to move forward.”

The masked man looked past Anderde into the extensive cavern behind him.

“A place where no one is judged unfairly,” he murmured.

Though shadowy, the light from the torches placed around the area revealed the immense scale of the cavern, as well as the multitude of people gathered behind the cardinal.

“Where all who believe can partake of power equally.”

Men and women, the old and the young, ordinary folk, clerics, temple guards, and sisters were all there, kneeling in devoted prayer, facing the same direction.

“A refuge only for the faithful.”

At the far end of the space stood an enormous, clearly man-made statue—a colossal representation of a human figure.

“A god created by human hands.”

The masked man observed Anderde, who still wore his infinitely gentle smile. In the flickering torchlight, that smile took on a disturbing quality, almost like that of a fanatic.

Abruptly, the masked man was struck by an peculiar dread. Anderde’s compassionate smile, thrown into relief by the torch flames, grew more menacing, akin to the grin of a madman.

####

The moment Alon invoked his magic, he was taken aback by an unforeseen radiance.

‘Why is it shining? The statue of Sironia shouldn’t respond to magic at all.’

He immediately halted his spell. Yet, even after he stopped, the light emanating from the statue of Sironia persisted.

Shortly after, a gentle but alarmed voice sounded in Alon’s ear.

[W-What is this?]

The voice was female and anxious, but no physical presence materialized—only the statue remained illuminated. Understanding the voice was that of the goddess Sironia, Alon felt obliged to show deference and started to kneel, but he was cut off.

[Wait!]

At her insistent tone, Alon halted, frozen in a half-kneel, his face a picture of bewilderment as he stared at the statue.

[Who… who are you?]

“…??”

Hearing the goddess’s voice shake, Alon perceived she was cautious of him. Though he did not know the reason, he felt he should not delay in answering.

“I am Count Palatio of the Kingdom of Asteria, Great Goddess Sironia.”

Remembering a formal introduction from the game, he answered in that manner.

[No, that is not—Hah.]

The goddess, sounding exasperated, let out a sudden sigh before falling quiet. After a pause, she spoke again, her tone more controlled but with a note of haste.

[Count Palatio. What is your reason for coming here?]

Alon detected the hidden urgency in her voice and, after a moment’s thought, chose to be straightforward.

“I came hoping to acquire the Eye-Eater’s pendant.”

This artifact, concealed in the Saint’s chamber and devoid of any magical signature, was Alon’s objective. Upon his words—

Click~!

—the marble flooring to the statue’s right slid aside.

[Reach out your hand.]

Sironia’s voice resonated, and when Alon extended his arm—

Thud!

—a white pendant fell into his grasp.

“This is…”

[Is this the reason you came here?]

“Yes, it is… but, why give it to me so readily?”

Although he understood her intent, Alon asked out of sheer curiosity.

Sironia answered plainly,

[Take it.]

“…Are you certain?”

[Yes. Now, if that is all, you may leave.]

With that final statement, she was gone, and the white glow vanished at once, as if a light had been switched off.

Though her tone had steadied by the end, her voice had seemed rushed, almost as if she was fleeing.

Feeling utterly perplexed, Alon wondered, What in the world was that about?

The event brought to mind his meeting with Heinkel at the Mage Association, and he recalled Heinkel’s vague reference to “behind.” Alon glanced over his shoulder, but—

There was nothing there.

What is this…? he pondered, a strange disquiet settling over him as he exited the Saint’s chamber with the Eye-Eater’s pendant he had originally sought.

***

At the same time, in Rosario, Saint Yuman stood with his eyes wide, completely stunned by what he had just seen. His astonishment had multiple causes. Firstly, he was shocked that Count Palatio could speak directly with the goddess Sironia. Secondly, he was amazed that Sironia’s statue shone more intensely in the count’s presence than it ever had for him.

But the thing that astounded him the most—leaving him utterly speechless—was that,

The goddess herself had given him a relic…??

Sironia had personally handed a sacred object to Count Palatio. Such an action was usually part of a formal divine rite through which the goddess would officially appoint a saint. Though Count Palatio had initiated the exchange with his request, Yuman, unaware of the details of what occurred in the Saint’s chamber, speculated, ‘Could Count Palatio have staged this, knowing I was observing?’

After all, the goddess Sironia typically adhered to strict protocols for such holy rites, not acting so impulsively. Once Count Palatio had left, Yuman entered the Sanctuary of the Holy Spirit, knelt, and started to pray.

A short time later—

Voom!

The statue of Sironia began to glow, and her voice was heard.

[What is it, my child?]

Her voice held a faint trace of weariness, though Yuman, having witnessed the goddess give away the relic, failed to notice the slight shift. Gathering himself to speak, he said,

“Great Goddess Sironia, I wish to report that Count Palatio has removed an item from the chamber—”

[That is enough.]

Sironia interjected,

[That was my doing; do not concern yourself with it, my child.]

“Truly? Is that the case?”

[Yes. If you observed what happened today, act as if you saw nothing.]

Having said that, Sironia disappeared.

Kneeling in the Sanctuary of the Holy Spirit, Yuman was left to contemplate in stunned silence, ‘The goddess herself bestowed a relic upon Count Palatio?’

After a long period of quiet, he could only arrive at one conclusion:

“Then… does this mean Count Palatio… is a saint, like me…?”