Return (4)
By the time I finished that private moment with Ariel and returned to the campsite, a rather grim scene awaited us.
“Good grief, what a gruesome sight…”
“Oh, you’re back? Quite early, too. You could have taken your time a little longer.”
“Hardly the right setting for that, Your Highness.”
Before us, Lobelia’s retinue was actively incinerating a mountain of corpses.
Was this some kind of Cradle-style campfire?
Certainly, cremating them was far better than leaving putrefying bodies strewn about the forest, but watching them burn in such massive heaps made my stomach churn. Could this be proof that some shred of human decency still lingered within me?
“Your Highness, speaking of which, where is Yuna?”
“Yohan? Why are you looking for her?”
The instant I brought up Yuna, Ariel—who had been clinging sweetly to my arm with a soft smile—froze, her expression turning glacial.
“…In a hostile zone like this, isn’t it only natural to ask when a member of our group goes missing?”
“Ah… I suppose so.”
Terrifying. Absolutely chilling.
I couldn't even open my mouth without stepping on a landmine.
Just a moment ago, the atmosphere between us had felt remarkably tender, so why on earth was a spine-chilling sensation crawling down my back again?
“If you mean Yuna, she hauled away a burlap sack large enough to fit a person, claiming she had business to attend to, and left early.”
“I see.”
That sack definitely contained a living human being. One hundred percent.
Was she off conducting an interrogation somewhere?
Whatever torture a cold-blooded assassin like Yuna dished out was bound to be something no civilized person should ever witness. Best not to dwell on it. I have a weak stomach for that sort of thing…
“So, are we heading back now as well?”
“I suppose we should. Well then, we shall see you tomorrow, Chancellor.”
“You need not return tomorrow. Thanks to your assistance, I was able to rest plenty. Please, devote yourselves to your field training.”
“If the training isn’t utterly dread-inducing, we might just do that.”
Lobelia answered with a breezy grin, while Olga Hermod merely shook her head with a weary, hollow laugh.
Their mutual displays of consideration aside, come tomorrow, I had no intention of showing up regardless of what happened. Frankly, was my presence even necessary today? I literally didn't lift a single finger.
Upon returning to the training grounds, we were immediately thrust into preparations for a night ambush drill.
“Ah! Right, we still had this!”
Come to think of it, this was the sole actual program prepared for our field training.
Damn it all. Why did Lobelia have to volunteer to help Olga Hermod on the very day this was scheduled…?
I wanted nothing more than to collapse and rest, yet here I was, dragged straight into combat exercises. I contemplated faking an illness, but that wasn’t an option.
“Woooow…”
Helena, placed in the same squad as me, was practically bouncing on her heels in breathless anticipation.
No matter how exhausted I felt, an adult couldn't just douse cold water on a little girl's excitement. Sighing inwardly with profound lethargy, I resigned myself to participating in the drill.
The exercise itself was straightforward enough.
First, two squads were selected and designated as either the defense team or the ambush team.
The defense squad had to escort cargo along a designated route through the forest, while the ambush squad’s objective was to intercept, seize, or destroy said cargo.
It was a practical curriculum designed with actual wartime scenarios in mind. Because the defense team operated not within the familiar confines of the Cradle but out in the open wild, they had to remain hyper-vigilant of their surroundings. Conversely, the ambush squad had to locate concealment within a strict time limit and coordinate their strike.
And all of it took place under the dead of night.
Given that the drill pitted squads of roughly comparable combat prowess against each other, the outcome hinged upon each member’s judgment and execution within the allotted time.
So, which team did we end up on?
“When will they get here? When do you think they’ll arrive? Do you think they’ll fall into our trap?”
We were the ambush squad. Naturally. Subjecting a frail young girl to a simulated ambush wouldn't look good for anyone. If Helena were to get startled and collapse, it would trigger an unmitigated disaster.
Hence, we were assigned the role of attackers. In reality, the whole match was staged from the start.
We dug a pit trap right before Helena's eyes and waited for the defense squad to approach. Even that agonizingly boring wait was a novel adventure for Helena; the bright smile never once faded from her face.
Eventually, the defense squad we were meant to ambush came into view.
“Take that!”
Helena shouted with vibrant energy as she triggered the trap. The defense squad, advancing with exaggerated caution, plummeted straight down into the pit.
A pitfall was the absolute baseline of disruption tactics. The students on the defense squad surely saw it coming. They had simply taken the plunge voluntarily, fully aware that Helena was on our side.
In fact, the poor souls who missed the trigger and failed to fall into the hole looked visibly distraught.
You bastards actually wanted to fall in, didn’t you?
You just wanted to see Helena beam at you with that pure, glowing smile, didn’t you?
“Splendid work, Helena. Thanks to you, we’ve pinned down three of them. Your timing was quite impressive.”
Lobelia praised Helena first. From an objective standpoint, trapping three opponents wasn’t a bad outcome at all—even if they had deliberately walked into it.
“From here, it’s our turn. Shall we mop up the rest, Yohan?”
“How about going with Dietrich? I’d prefer to remain non-combat support.”
“Dietrich must stay behind to guard Helena. Where has your tact gone?”
“…I’m only going to stall for time.”
“I expected nothing more, so don’t fret.”
With a heavy sigh, I drew my sword and dropped down in front of the remaining students, who had been lingering awkwardly before the pit.
Their faces instantly brightened upon seeing me.
“Hey, you idiots, get your acting together! If she notices, are you taking the blame?”
“Ah… s-sorry! Look, he’s here! Everyone, we’ll hold him off, so climb out of the pit as fast as you can!”
One nameless student bellowed theatrically for the whole clearing to hear. That moron really should just keep his mouth shut.
“No need for long chatter. Let’s do this.”
If we exchanged another word, our charade would be blown wide open. Cutting off any further dialogue, I raised my blade and charged.
And promptly began getting beaten senseless by my flustered opponent.
“Guh!”
Bloody hell, you bastard! Did you panic so hard that you forgot how to pull your punches?!
Go easy on me! My wrists are going to shatter at this rate, damn it!
Just as I was being battered one-sidedly and struggling to hold my ground—
“Right, that’s enough.”
“Kuh!”
Lobelia, having long since incapacitated her own target, swept in and subdued my opponent with a single, decisive blow.
A brutal disparity in skill.
At this point, I began to wonder why I was even asked to step in.
“All thanks to everyone’s teamwork.”
“Waaaah!”
“…”
Helena let out a joyous cheer at Lobelia’s proclamation.
I had no idea what kind of ‘teamwork’ she managed to glean from me getting pulverized while Cult stood idly by doing absolutely nothing, but somehow, the exercise had come to a close.
“Um!”
Helena called out, her face radiant.
“Today was…”
A smile as warm and bright as the sun.
The kind of face that melted all tension just by looking at it.
“Re… ally…”
Slowly, she pitched forward.
Like a marionette whose strings had been severed, she crumpled limply toward the dirt.
In an instant, even the sound of her breath seemed swallowed by an abyss of absolute silence.
“Helena?”
Cult, standing beside her, muttered under his breath.
Helena’s tiny hand, which had been clutching his fingers, slipped away and fell limp.
“Huh…?”
A single syllable, dripping with sheer bewilderment.
A girl pale as a corpse, and a boy turning just as pale as he stared down at her.
The Prophet, Cult Hereticus, slowly sank to his knees, his face stricken with utter disbelief.
In that moment, he did not resemble an apostle acting as the eyes and ears of God; he looked like nothing more than an ordinary boy, trembling violently in bottomless despair.
And watching this entire sequence unfold before my eyes…
Only then did I understand why the Oracle had appeared before me today.
The choices I made. The words I carelessly uttered.
The chain of events they had catalyzed. The things I had brushed off as minor details.
“How could this…”
The boy choked on his own self-reproach.
Trembling uncontrollably, he clasped his hands together as if pleading with God in desperate prayer.
With a face on the verge of breaking into tears, the pure-white boy shattered from within.
“This makes no sense…”
Cult Hereticus, the Final Boss.
This was the exact moment the very first button of his descent was fastened into place.
Halting the training immediately, Cult Hereticus scooped Helena into his arms and rushed straight back to the marquisate manor.
Dietrich had stayed glued to Cult's side all the way back to the estate, but in the end, he was barred at the gates.
No matter how much Dietrich was treated like family, he remained an outsider to high nobility. Turned away at the entrance, Dietrich had no choice but to sit outside the grand gates of the Hereticus estate, waiting anxiously for news of Cult and Helena.
Meanwhile, Cult laid Helena down onto her bed and turned to face the Marquis.
“…What in heaven’s name happened?”
Marquis Ereticus was Cult's greatest patron. Yet that patronage existed solely as remuneration for having cured Helena's fatal illness.
Naturally, seeing Helena collapsed in this state, the Marquis could not help but harbor doubt.
“W-With your miracles, Helena will be fine, won’t she?”
Yet, in the end, he had no one to rely on but Cult.
Cult could not utter a single word.
He had cured Helena's illness. There was no question about that.
Even if her stamina lagged behind others and her constitution remained delicate, there was no reason for her to collapse so powerlessly.
There had to be an external catalyst.
Cult focused entirely on examining Helena's state.
“Ha…!”
Her heart wasn't beating.
She wasn't breathing.
And yet, blood was actively circulating through her veins. Her internal organs were functioning in perfect harmony.
It was as if every part of her flesh possessed a conscious will of its own, driving itself forward.
And Cult could now faintly perceive what power fueled that independent will.
“She will be fine.”
“…”
“She will awaken soon.”
Cult spoke in an even, tranquil tone.
It wasn't a lie. Helena was not dying; she was merely undergoing a metamorphosis.
Yet, feeling the terrifying force taking root in her blood and flesh, Cult could not muster even a shadow of a smile.
“Our God is watching over this child.”
Holy Power.
Holy Power was condensing within her blood and flesh.
Holy Power was a force bound to divine faith—it was never meant to be harbored internally by mortal vessels, but rather drawn down from the divine realm outside.
The only beings capable of housing that power within themselves were the Prophet chosen directly by God to act as His eyes and ears upon this mortal world—Cult himself—or…
“God’s hand has touched this child.”
…A Holy Relic.
Ignoring Marquis Ereticus’s frantic queries, Cult rose to his feet.
“Rushing back in such haste has fatigued me. I shall return to my chambers. Marquis, please remain by Helena’s side. She will open her eyes shortly.”
“Ah, y-yes!”
Cult drifted back toward his quarters, his steps staggering like a man wading through the deep, suffocating depths of an ocean.
The moment he was alone in his room, he untied the blindfold concealing his eyes and stared into the mirror.
“Haah…”
A Holy Relic possesses an ego of its own.
One day, it will reveal itself by your side.
Those had been the words of Yohan Damus.
There had been no deceit in that warning. The Holy Relic had revealed itself. Or rather, it had been beside him all along, and only now had he finally recognized it.
Helena.
No, to be precise, her very heart was the Holy Relic of Elysium.
The essential relic required for Cult to bring about God's descent onto this earth.
“I always believed You were not omnipotent, hurling words of contempt and defiance at You…”
God never moved. He held no genuine interest in mortals.
He merely received Cult's words; He never intervened.
Cult stared into the mirror at his own reflection.
Pure white hair bathed in sacred divinity, eyes as blue as the endless sky.
In every way, he mirrored Helena.
People had often looked upon the two of them and remarked that they looked like true blood siblings.
Yes. That had been the truth all along.
Helena had been arranged along Cult's path from the very beginning.
Her falling ill with that incurable, mysterious affliction; Cult stepping forward to heal her—
“You knew everything. All along, knowing every last bit of it…”
It was all God's design.
God already knew how flawed the world was through Cult's eyes. He was already intimately aware of Cult's agony, of the boundless misery of mortal existence.
And yet, God had never once answered Cult's desperate pleas.
Instead, He turned the question back upon Cult.
Placing milestones along his path, He demanded that Cult make a choice.
“Is this Your will?”
Was that blind conviction truly unbreakable?
Did he truly intend to reshape this world, even if it meant burning everything he had to ashes?
The choice belonged entirely to Cult.
Yet that choice was anything but simple.
To achieve his grand ambition, he would truly have to forsake everything.
His faction. His friends. His family.
He would have to drag everything he loved and cherished through the filth, plunging willingly into the deepest, darkest abyss.
To fulfill his purpose, he would have to murder Helena with his own two hands.
“Only when one can abandon everything for the sake of the singular whole…”
That was the trial bestowed upon Cult.
God's silent question posed to His Prophet: Is this world truly beyond redemption?
Before the crossroads of destiny.
The Prophet stood motionless, frozen in place.