The Meaning of Using Power Correctly
He smiled at me. Watching Jenkinson direct those words at her with a gentle smile, Asa felt an odd stirring in her chest. She had known that the fearsome priest smiled more easily than his reputation suggested. But this smile was unmistakably different from the artificial ones he had shown before. It seemed to carry a trace of something real. That warm smile. For some reason, it unsettled her more than it should have.
Using power correctly, huh... Asa turned the words over in her mind. Strangely, the simple phrase Let's do our best had lodged itself deep inside her. It was because the terrifying priest had, for once, seemed to speak to her with genuine sincerity. She found she could not simply brush those words aside.
Hermann had only just stepped off the train. He set his heavy bag down for a moment and stretched, rolling his shoulders. Most of the high demons across the continent had gone quiet. No one knew the reason. Demons had always been creatures beyond human understanding, after all. One could only count their inactivity as a blessing and go on living. Since Amon’s death, the only high demon still active was Lilith. That was precisely why Hermann’s obsession with her had only grown stronger.
Personal grudge aside, the woman’s very existence represented an enormous threat to humanity. Information on Lilith is still far too scarce. He had sensed no movement from her lately. She had seemed on the verge of acting, then stopped cold. Had the Holy See’s warning actually gotten through to her? Or perhaps… she’s wary of Jenkinson, the man who killed Amon.
Well, that might be reaching. Hermann breathed in the air of Rucella as he pondered it. No matter how many times he visited, the air here always felt clean and refreshing.
“Hoo, no matter when I come, the air in this place is always so pure.”
Rucella was the perfect destination for a vacation. Of course… I didn’t come here to rest. With that thought, Hermann walked into Ive, the first city of the Abnaigel region. The place carried the unmistakable scent of age and history.
“You don’t plan to visit your hometown, then?” Asa asked, watching Jenkinson check the schedule for trains heading straight to Giner.
They had come all this way. Was he really not going to stop by his family home? The question had occurred to her. But Jenkinson showed no interest in returning.
“Even if I did, I’d only get an earful from my father.”
He had visited not long ago anyway. There was nothing to do there, and he saw no reason to subject himself to another lecture.
“That’s surprising. Even you get nagged, Father?”
Asa found it genuinely curious. The priest before her was intimidating, yes, but in her eyes he was almost impossibly flawless. An Inquisitor would naturally be well-versed in law. She had seen him write prescriptions with practiced ease, so his medical knowledge must be exceptional. And his martial prowess was said to be the finest on the continent. That such a man still received scolding at home struck her as oddly human.
“Of course I do. They sent me to the capital to build connections and properly inherit the family estate. Instead I studied theology and ran straight into the Church.”
At Jenkinson’s dry reply, Asa immediately understood.
“Ah…”
Of course. He was nobility. Not just any noble, either, but a son of one of Rucella’s highest houses, one powerful enough to hold the title of margrave. It was only natural that his family would disapprove of him becoming a priest.
In that moment, something else struck Asa as strange. That someone of his station would choose to work in a place like this. Perhaps Jenkinson read the thought on her face, because he let out a small chuckle and muttered,
“If she saw Priestess Ilena, she would faint on the spot.”
Asa tilted her head at the remark. Jenkinson immediately realized his slip.
Well, to people from Rucella, our own highborn probably feel more real. It made sense that local status would carry more weight than foreign titles. Jenkinson smiled to himself at the thought.
In any case, he had secured the train tickets. They still had about an hour to spare.
“Shall we get something to eat? We have time before the train leaves.”
They had not yet had lunch. When Jenkinson made the suggestion, Asa’s face lit up at once.
“You’re treating, right?”
She really knows how to push her luck. Even after hearing all that scolding, she showed no sign of discouragement and simply bantered back. Jenkinson found it both exasperating and, strangely, not unpleasant.
“It will be charged to expenses.”
“Oh, that works too? Then I’ll have to eat my fill.”
Watching Asa’s delighted expression, Jenkinson simply walked on. Her easy familiarity did not feel disagreeable. Because of that, he decided to stop correcting her attitude. Perhaps that very trait… could become one of her strengths.
The frozen north. Though not as brutally cold as Yoqheim, the Empire’s northern territories still boasted bone-chilling winters. Beyond the massive wall that cut across that region lay a nation of a small ethnic group. They hunted wolves across the snowy plains and sustained themselves through those hunts. They delighted in chewing raw meat, executed young men who failed their coming-of-age rites by claiming the gods had abandoned them, and consumed the flesh in a peculiar sacred custom. Theirs was a theocratic state.
Other nations beyond the great wall called them barbarians for their savage ways. Yet according to their own faith, these customs were holy acts. By consuming the blood and flesh of those abandoned by the gods, those who could no longer live as true humans were embraced once more into the divine fold. In other words, it was their unique form of mercy toward sinners.
Naturally, a people who revered their god so deeply were hostile toward any heretic who refused to worship Uruk. Even fellow tribesmen were not exempt. Every person was expected to serve Uruk, who prized strength above all. To them, strength was justice itself. The actions of the strong were always righteous. Taking another man’s wife by force, claiming a favored child as one’s adopted son, none of it was forbidden. The weak could offer no resistance. That merciless logic of power formed the fundamental law that sustained their nation.
It was utterly different from the weak Goddess Yuno, who preached mercy. Believing only Uruk was the true god, they fought relentlessly and constantly sought to tear down the wall.
“Alkai. I am deeply disappointed. I intended to name you Great Warrior and have you crush the wicked forces under Gilbert.”
Their leader, the shaman who spoke for Uruk, looked down at his warrior with clear regret. The shaman’s chest ached at the young and capable fighter’s defiance just as they prepared for war.
“I was never taught to fight a battle I cannot win.”
Traitor! Wicked apostate! Angry murmurs rose around them, but the muscular shaman simply regarded Alkai with calm eyes. The massive warrior did not flinch even beneath that piercing gaze.
“Shaman! We should cut him down at once and return him to the gods!” the current Great Warrior Urusa shouted in fury. Every warrior present agreed. Alkai remained composed.
“Why do you think so?”
“Do we possess the strength to defeat Gilbert? I was taught by Uruk that only the logic of power is truth. If that is the case, then is he not the very incarnation of Lord Uruk?”
“...”
“What blasphemy!” “How can those who reject Uruk be so strong!” “Such corruption!”
The gathering erupted in rage and shock, yet the shaman remained calm. His eyes stayed fixed on Alkai, and Alkai did not look away. In that quiet gaze, the shaman finally understood. Alkai had been thoroughly captivated by the power of the heretics. With a sigh of resignation, he accepted that this warrior had already fallen and would never return.
“Then go and see for yourself. Witness how meaningless the power that has enthralled you truly is.”
The shaman’s voice was ice-cold as he gave the order to the other warriors.
“I decree the banishment of Warrior Alkai. Cast him beyond the border.”
At the frigid command, Great Warrior Urusa moved at once.
“Yes! Follow me, you apostate!”
Thud! Urusa struck Alkai hard across the face, then grabbed the unresisting warrior by the collar and began dragging him away. Alkai followed in silence.
“Throw him near the border. It seems the shaman believes this traitor does not even deserve to be welcomed into the gods’ embrace.”
Urusa hurled Alkai into the snow like garbage and ordered the waiting warriors. They nodded immediately.
“Understood!”
The warriors began dragging Alkai toward the border. Watching the wolf-drawn sled carry the exiled man into the distance, Urusa closed his eyes.
You fool.
Had he truly become bewitched by that man’s power? The strength with which Jenkinson had slaughtered their warriors had certainly left an impression on Urusa as well. But that was not true power. It was nothing more than vile sorcery. A warrior gained nothing by falling for such deception.
What an idiot.
Urusa buried the thought deep in his heart. The apostate who had insulted Uruk by falling for sorcery was no longer human. Even if he realized the truth and regretted it, it was already too late. There was no longer a place for him in the heavens. With that thought, Urusa stood for a long time, staring at the spot where Alkai had vanished.