Chapter 42
Chapter: 42
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>Translator: penny
>Chapter: 042
>Chapter Title: Predator (6)
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>One day before the Inquisitors raided the Kornseim clan's stronghold.
The guild, having caught wind of it in advance, followed the Holy Emperor's orders and smuggled out the scholars along with some of the research records.
During the operation, the Holy Emperor's eyes lit up at the sight of the artificial lifeforms lined up in one corner of the laboratory.
"These could be useful. Smuggle a few out."
The guild executives all stared at him in shock. After all, wasn't this very research on artificial lifeforms the decisive reason the Kornseim were branded devil worshipers?
Yet he spoke calmly, as if it were nothing.
"These have nothing to do with demons or whatever nonsense. They're technology bound by the laws of the material world."
During the Great Purge, most of the artificial lifeforms—homunculi—had been burned, but in the end, the guild succeeded in smuggling out three puppets without the Inquisitors noticing.
"These are just empty dolls in the shape of humans."
"Once a soul enters, they'll move properly. That's how they're structured."
So how exactly do you put a soul in them?
As everyone wondered, the Holy Emperor personally transferred his own soul into one of the puppets and began testing it out.
Freely moving a soul in and out like that wasn't something an ordinary person could do, but since it was His Majesty the Holy Emperor, everyone in the guild just accepted it. They had only wondered at first what use there could be for dolls in human form.
Soon, the guild members unwittingly witnessed the moment when a quietly lying puppet suddenly opened its eyes or stood up and walked around.
Just as the Holy Emperor said, the moment a soul entered, the puppet began moving exactly like a person, and it synchronized with the soul inside, gradually transforming into the Holy Emperor's likeness in a wondrous display.
However, the Holy Emperor's demonstration run with the homunculus hit an unexpected snag. Forcibly synchronizing a soul with an artificial lifeform consumed far too much mental energy when entering and exiting. So once it entered a puppet, it couldn't move the soul as easily as when using its original body.
The senses were also greatly dulled, so the Holy Emperor struggled for a while to adapt.
The biggest problem, above all, was that the puppet, being outside this world's laws, couldn't accept aura at all.
It went without saying how uncomfortable this was for the Holy Emperor, who handled aura as naturally as breathing. Aura was the foundation of life itself. Lacking it was tantamount to being on the verge of death, drained of all energy.
Fortunately, there were no restrictions on using divine power, which the Holy Emperor explained was likely because divine power belonged to his soul.
So what do you plan to use it for?
The guild executives wondered as they watched him, who could shatter the guild building with a casual wave of his hand, now tottering around inside a puppet like an invalid.
The Holy Emperor seemed somewhat dissatisfied, but he wrapped up the experiment anyway and deployed the puppets to the guild's major branches far from the capital.
And in fact, two years ago on the southern front, the Holy Emperor demonstrated the true value of those puppets. The southern front, which had been on the back foot, instantly turned the tide with the intervention of a single priest wielding infinite divine power.
Combined with the rampage of 1st Crown Prince Owen at the forefront, the front lines pushed south again and again, settling into their current position.
At that time, the Holy Emperor in the capital had entered secluded prayer, and everyone believed without a doubt that it was the grace of the Lord God in response to those prayers.
Now, having explained all that...
No. 21 was at a loss for words facing the shocked boy and old man before him.
What saved him was a sudden calm voice from beside them.
"The Lord God has purified the wicked things and made them instruments to protect the continent."
Huh?
All three pairs of eyes turned toward the coffin at once.
The Holy Emperor had lifted his head and was looking at them. And in that moment, they clearly saw it: the immensely holy aura enveloping his body.
Surrounded by a soft, multicolored glow, he continued in a voice resonant like a prophecy.
"This proves that nothing in this world can escape the Lord God's will. Even the futile struggles of devil worshipers fall under His design."
Ah, it was truly a divine sight!
Even though the subject was crouching in a coffin with a pitchfork strapped to him, it in no way detracted from his utmost dignity and the gently emanating holiness.
...Probably.
Old man Max, who had experienced the Holy Emperor's divine miracles multiple times over the past two days, teared up in.
"Forgive... forgive me. This foolish servant has committed the grave sin of doubting the Lord God's proxy, my eyes blinded as they are."
"How can I blame a sin born of ignorance? You are forgiven."
"Ahh..."
The old man was so deeply moved he nearly dropped the carriage reins.
Aslan wore a subtle expression but seemed to accept it, while only No. 21 narrowed his eyes at the Holy Emperor.
Where'd you get that act from?
If you're going to explain, at least do it properly. You're still amateurish, Enrique.
* * *
Jerome barely registered the search party's report as he got thoroughly drunk for the first time in ages. Marta’s gruesome final moments kept flashing in his mind, making it impossible to stay sane.
"Boss. The Plandor guards seem suspicious. We sent all search parties up the mountain, so news is delayed, but the Ashein Pass team spotted signs of troops massing near the Plandor guards on their way back."
"Rodrigo headed to Kartago Pass. We'll hear from him soon, so how about pulling back some searchers and watching Plandor?"
But Jerome made no reply. A Kartago spy in cahoots with Rodrigo had infiltrated the Plandor Pass guards from the start. If there was anything suspicious, word would have come from him.
On top of that, for some reason, a voice kept echoing in Jerome's head.
[You've already lost Marta. All that's left are these idiot underlings. If Grand Duke Ashein sends a subjugation force, you'll have nothing left.]
[Capture Ashein's spy.]
[Ashein's spy comes first.]
"Ashein's spy comes first. Find that bastard."
"But boss..."
"I won't say it twice. Capture Aslan and that prisoner."
The bandits flinched and averted their eyes under Jerome's glare from his bloodshot eyes. His men soon slipped away one by one, gauging his mood, until Jerome was left alone in the hut. He silently downed strong drink until deep into the night and into dawn.
"Marta..."
Only now that there was no one to hear did the name he rarely uttered slip out so easily.
From the moment he first saw her over a dozen years ago, beautiful Marta had naturally been his. She stayed by his side without him needing to call her name, breathing only under his control. Until yesterday, Jerome had never doubted that her every action, even her life, was in his hands.
Could that truly be called love? Jerome didn't know.
But because Marta had been so perfectly subservient to him until now, Jerome found he could no longer imagine life without her.
Stubbornly downing drinks, Jerome finally collapsed face-first onto the table at morning's end and began snoring. Someone approached him cautiously: his foster son, Kaien.
Having waited a long time for Jerome to pass out, he walked quietly to the table, clicking his tongue.
Jerome was one of those rare humans with a sturdy soul barrier. Unless he got blackout drunk like this or fell deeply asleep, even Kaien struggled to interfere directly.
He didn't dare dissect the soul, merely whispering suggestions to the heavily intoxicated Jerome. And the liquor was so damn strong.
He still shuddered recalling his childhood, when like with Marta, he'd naively touched Jerome's soul without knowing better and got flung against a wall. That was the first time he'd realized his power wasn't omnipotent.
Fortunately, the next day, he'd successfully incited the weakened soul—drunk and vulnerable—to violence against Marta as revenge. Jerome himself seemed unaware, but his soul always gazed only at her. The day after striking her, his soul would be bruised purple all day, visibly drained.
Kaien didn't understand those feelings at all, but he knew Marta's misfortune was the most effective punishment for Jerome.
This time was no different. Jerome's soul, unusually weakened since yesterday, was wailing in grief.
[Marta Marta Marta Marta]
Thankfully, the headaches and ringing that had plagued Kaien were easing. He approached the drunken Jerome and seized a handful of his soul with one hand.
Just as a kind soul like Marta's tasted fresh and sweet, a strong soul laden with karma had its own deep, rich flavor. From the bits he'd sneakily tasted whenever possible, Jerome's soul was decently tasty, as he recalled.
Kaien tore off one floppy arm of the soul, smirking.
Jerome would never know, even until his soul was devoured whole and he died, what it had longed for all its life.
And that was just too amusing.
* * *
Aslan's group traveled diligently through the night. Aside from a brief stop at dawn to rest the packhorses and catch some shut-eye, they kept the carriage moving along the road without pause.
Here, His Majesty Bart's outrageous power shone again: whenever the packhorses threatened to collapse, a torrent of immense divine power poured into them without fail.
Forcibly invigorated, the bewildered horses pulled the carriage diligently once more. Seeing deep confusion in the eyes of the round, docile beasts, Aslan felt a twinge of pity.
But by midday, they abandoned the carriage and proceeded on foot. Near the mountain village, search parties were patrolling in tight formations. They would likely run into them constantly all the way to the Ashein Pass fork if they continued like this.
Disguising themselves as merchants was impossible with their well-known faces, so dodging the search parties seemed better. Grabbing light travel gear, they hid the carriage in the brush and started walking along the road.
Having alternated sleep during the night and traveled comfortably seated, the group's stamina was fresh. Except for His Majesty Bart, regrettably.
Even while self-recovering fatigue with vast divine power, a body unable to wield aura looked perilously fragile.
"Shall I carry you?"
Unable to stand it, No. 21 offered, but His Majesty smirked and patted his back. He must have thought it a joke.
The foot travel went more smoothly than expected. No. 21 truly had a sixth sense: on a quiet empty road, he'd suddenly signal the group to halt and hide by the roadside, and without fail, a search party would pass moments later.
What kind of organization was this guild that harbored someone like him? Aslan wondered inwardly.
But shortly after noon, something happened to His Majesty Bart.
"Mores..."
He suddenly stopped dead in the road, muttering to himself, his face deathly pale as he stared blankly into empty space. No. 21, walking ahead, turned back, startled, and hurried to him.
"Your Majesty?"
And Aslan saw it.
Ah, those eyes again. Eyes that reflected everything like lifeless glass.
If no image formed from this world's light, what exactly reflected in those eyes from somewhere else?
His Majesty stared into the void like that for a long while before closing his eyes with a deep sigh.
"...I told you not to cause trouble."
"......?"
The group approached him, bewildered.
"Enrique."
"...I'm No. 21."
He'd responded out of habit, but worry clouded No. 21's face.
His Majesty quietly scanned the surrounding group, then placed a hand on each forehead in turn, sharing divine power. Feeling it was preparation for some dire event, Aslan grew deeply anxious.
"Something urgent has come up. I'll have to step away briefly, so I'm leaving the rest to you, Enrique. It'll be tough, but you can handle it."
No. 21's face stiffened at the abrupt words. His Majesty grasped his arm, pleading earnestly.
"Remember this: your first task is to get those two beyond the Ashein Pass."
"But Your Majesty..."
No. 21's lips moved as if to protest, but His Majesty's voice, meeting his eyes squarely, was firm.
"That's the priority. Understand? If things go south, abandon the homunculus. High chance of that."
"......"
"Leave the rest to me."
And at those words' end.
His Majesty's body collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.