The Factory
Even the gods shed light upon the surface, yet there was one place that drew it relentlessly.
In this age and in all ages past, the holiest ground of all.
Not grand, but composed of flowing curves and sharp straight lines, it was a white cathedral.
Known throughout the Empire as the headquarters of the Tastah Church, a denomination so famous that simply beholding it was enough to inspire faith in the divine.
The floor still glistened with the colors of a rainbow after the rain had stopped.
Inside, the soft hum of the wind filled the ears, and a figure sat veiled in white, face hidden.
Though her face remained unseen, the shape of her body left no doubt: she was a woman.
Whip.
A short gust of wind brushed past her ear.
She gently withdrew her hands from one another.
In the stillness, her prayer concluded.
When she lifted the bowed head, the veil that had hidden her face slipped back like curtains.
“Huu…”
Eyes glowing with rainbow light stared back.
Her hair was a deep yellow, dyed as if from sunflower petals.
Long lashes fluttered slowly.
Her chest rose and fell, and a long, faint breath escaped her.
Yet even in mere motion, she ruled the cathedral interior.
No matter who else stood nearby, her presence would never fade.
She traced the cathedral’s emblem at the center—a rectangle formed by lines.
A jewel-like square, from its core four lines extended outward.
The faith symbol shining in faint gold left her with a quiet sigh.
“Boring…”
If anyone else had heard that thought, they might have called it blasphemy.
But to her, faith was nothing more than a heavy, unnecessary burden.
The chosen savior of the gods, the Empire’s greatest warrior, the one who would shine for the weak yet bind the strong.
Every word was a chain that bound her.
She still remembered that day. No, it was a day that could never be forgotten.
A vast, ancient square she had never seen before.
The crowd there filled the wide expanse with thunderous cheers.
“Suizen!” she had cried to the gods, chosen ones!
Every eye in the square turned to the tall building, which seemed like a stage to her.
On stage, a middle-aged man gave an impassioned speech.
What thoughts had crossed her mind then?
Perhaps… she had felt she could not understand it.
Her life had always been the dark back alleys, and she had assumed it would end there.
Yet she now received the gazes of countless people all at once.
The shabby, hateful creature who had hidden in the alleys.
Now gazed upon with envy inside the Empire’s greatest cathedral.
She had been chosen.
Even her name, her form, and even her existence were unknown.
She became a saint.
Without understanding any responsibility, salvation, or wisdom.
The one truth she had known then had been only this.
Simple. Perfect.
Violence.
But it was only natural that she could never have stood in the saint’s place.
Even if the gods had designated her, the age of the Church that followed such will had long since passed.
She could never have entered the stagnant water of rot and darkness.
Yet because of one person, she had risen to this place.
Tap. Tap.
The sound was distant from any elegant step—perhaps even familiar.
When she turned toward the noise, the middle-aged man who had been speaking, now approaching old age, appeared.
“Saint, has your prayer concluded?”
“…Please, no need to be so formal. I’m not worthy of it.”
Her voice was firm, yet he only smiled faintly.
Once a pope, now merely a retired priest.
A man whose life had been smeared with black paint, whom she had gently wiped clean to complete her own.
“…Is there something you wish to say?”
“No, just checking on you.”
He placed a small chocolate on the wooden chair as usual, then quietly turned and left.
“I should have brought something else instead of chocolate…”
She moved to the chair, picked up the chocolate, and held it.
It carried the warm aura suited to his gentle nature.
“…It’s melted.”
She pressed the wrapper and it slid inside without resistance.
She would freeze it later and enjoy it, then sat down on the wooden chair.
The position of saint was, of course, busy, yet lately there seemed to be fewer tasks.
So she could simply finish her mandatory prayers and relax.
She raised her head and gazed at the stained-glass windows letting in sunlight.
The same color as her eyes, now infused with divine power, warmed her body.
“I’m not unhappy, but… there’s nothing to do.”
She muttered to herself, trying to shake off the boredom.
The saint felt the restrictions were too many every day.
“Books are only textbooks, games aren’t played together, and I can’t eat anything too rich…”
It was boring, and since it was boring, there was no reason to keep living.
But the fact that she had a hobby free of any interference kept her going.
The Gallery.
An ancient creation accessible through nothing but thought alone.
She clicked the most popular post there.
“-Aurora: Deep Sea Survival Day 11, I’ll explore a bit (broadcast)”
She smiled faintly and moved her fingers to type a comment.
“-HealingIsViolence: Are you exploring the hospital too?”
Dark night passed, and dark morning arrived.
Perhaps because her mana had vanished all at once, her entire body ached.
“Uuu…”
Groaning, she forced her exhausted body to rise.
She had wanted to lie down right then, but there was work to do today.
She manipulated the blue gallery window to turn on the broadcast, and in an instant countless people flooded in.
The sight of thousands appearing every second was enough to feel burdensome.
“Haam… today I’ll visit the food factory again.”
“-TruthScholar: If no security robots, bring just one?”
“-HealingIsViolence: Are you exploring the hospital too?”
“-EducationMaster: Be careful and explore, okay!”
…Honestly, she hadn’t wanted to go at all.
Wasn’t that only natural? In that place she had nearly died to a security robot.
Yet the reason she was going again…
“That fellow.”
A black egg of light lay quietly inside the submarine.
She couldn’t leave that dangerous element alone.
Since it had been stored in the food factory, she thought there might be more details there.
And if there was anything to bring along, she would take it.
Whip.
“Ah, charging?”
AbsoluteOne rolled over to her and extended its mechanical arm.
No words, but she understood exactly what it wanted.
She flipped it over like training a pet and held out her hand, and AbsoluteOne grabbed it eagerly.
A faint mana transferred to AbsoluteOne.
“-TruthScholar: Is this a pet…? Or a pet machine?”
“-EducationMaster: I’ve trained so many animals, but… this is new.”
Perhaps she looked like a trainer now.
In reality she was only the treat-giving housekeeper.
“AbsoluteOne moves with my mana, so it needs this action.”
AbsoluteOne puffed out its chest with an inexplicable sense of pride.
Most comments were simply “Ah, I see,” yet
“-TruthScholar: Mana can come from anywhere, right?”
She had once wondered if her mana was really necessary, as TruthScholar had said.
But they could survive on grass or tough meat, and didn’t eat delicious chicken or anything. So she thought AbsoluteOne was similar.
‘Then am I human chuu…?’
By the time that thought occurred, quite some time had passed.
It was time to head to the food factory.
She forced her body, which had gone limp with reluctance, to stand.
Squeak!
The sound of old hatches rubbing echoed in her ears, and she stepped out into the humid air.
Outside, there was still no sunlight or hope.
Yet since barely a month had passed, she continued moving.
Scrunch. Scrunch.
The sound of sand crushing was heard for a moment.
Then
Tap. Tap.
The sense of a well-trodden, stable path rose up her legs.
She walked with her boundaries extended, then stopped briefly.
The reason…
“-TruthScholar: That egg is still following.”
“-EducationMaster: Are you treating it as a parent?”
“-HealingIsViolence: Did you make a mana contract? Why are you following?”
She turned her head slightly and looked back.
The black egg sat exactly where she had left it.
But there was nothing she could do.
If she could teleport, she might have lured it away, but
Teleportation required overwhelming calculation to realize three dimensions, so she had never considered it.
Anyway, she continued walking toward the food factory.
If she hesitated, the probability of meeting the cyclops increased.
Chik.
No matter what she did, she would meet the cyclops.
Despite her caution, the cyclops suddenly appeared around the corner.
Swallow.
Her hand rose to the handle at her waist.
Sweat and spit poured out from tension, yet if she concentrated she could win.
She prepared to unleash magic from her left hand and swordsmanship from her right, and in that tense moment
Whoosh.
The cyclops vanished.
Without a sound or trace.
“-TruthScholar: …Wow. It wasn’t magic, huh?”
Where the cyclops had stood now lay the black egg.
As if it had been there from the beginning.
…The deep sea always surprised her.
Usually in the bad way.