Do You Believe in God?
'Ha, this is really driving me crazy.'
According to what I heard from Lucy, she had declared the dissolution of her engagement with the protagonist, Andrew. Naturally, no such content existed in the original work at all.
'What I read was a proper fantasy novel, not some trashy villain story.'
To suddenly declare a breakup with the protagonist. It was utterly confusing. My head hurt quite a bit because the story was flowing differently from the original, but the bigger problem was that I had absolutely no idea why it was happening.
At first I thought it was nothing more than a simple butterfly effect, but no matter how I looked at it, my current level of presence was far too faint to generate ripples of this magnitude. In other words, the problem lay with Philia herself…
The possibilities that came to mind were roughly possession, reincarnation, or regression, but without asking Philia directly, all of it was nothing more than speculation. Since she was currently imprisoned and I couldn’t go see her, the frustration was unbearable.
'It’d be better if it was possession or reincarnation. I just hope it isn’t regression.'
With possession or reincarnation, information could be gathered or shared through games or novels, but regression was an entirely different matter.
'…Since it’s something experienced firsthand, it would be on a completely different level from simple information.'
When you factored in the existence of me as a possessor, the range of possibilities grew overwhelmingly wide. It could be the first round where I existed, or the first round where I didn’t. Just thinking about it made my head throb.
Of course, if she had truly returned after experiencing the future, she could be seen as a reliable ally who would prevent the destruction in my stead, but the odds of that were extremely low.
After all, Philia was someone who awakened as the Flower Devil in the future. If she had returned, it might not have been the human Philia, but the already fully corrupted Flower Devil who had regressed.
'But according to the original setting, regression is impossible…'
In the setting of the Haelan Chronicles, regression was absolutely impossible for Philia. I didn’t know exactly what trigger caused it, but it was closest to being sent back to the past through the medium of death.
Yet devils in the Haelan Chronicles were fundamentally immortal beings that did not die.
'Unless someone completely kills her. Regression is impossible.'
Well, this was all purely personal speculation… but in the very late stages of the original work, there was a line that outright denied the possibility of regression.
Time is a domain that even a god would hesitate to touch.
The 'Wheel' never flows in reverse unless the omnipotent Outer Father permits it…
Even if it returns against odds of eternity, by the time one reaches such a realm, everything becomes meaningless…
The late-stage line was spoken by a forgotten ancient god to the protagonist. It was full of cryptic Zen dialogue, but the summary was that reaching a realm where one could return to the past would already make them no different from a god.
Naturally, if Philia had already reached that level, she wouldn’t be quietly staying put like this; she would have done something by now.
'At that point, she would’ve already broken out of confinement, right?'
In conclusion, regression was impossible. Then what on earth was the reason Philia had declared the breakup?
'…My head hurts. Seriously.'
Since there was no immediate danger, I decided to focus on the masquerade ball first.
One week later.
At the masked ball, one of the original work’s important figures would appear.
The woman who would later be called the Depraved Saint, captured by the church and burned alive.
At this ball, I had to stop the curse that would be placed on her.
Some people could not contain their boiling blood, while others secretly plotted schemes and conspiracies. A space where every kind of base desire was vulgarly exposed, a place of both debauchery and entertainment.
This was the Masked Ball.
I was currently walking around wearing a half-used fox mask someone had discarded. Originally I had planned to secretly pass information to Philia so she could stop the incident at the ball, but with the ban on her going outside, she couldn’t attend.
'In the end, I have no choice but to move myself.'
Only nobles with wealth and power, or the upper class equivalent, could enter the Masked Ball held in Catabel. I knew the location, of course, but it was far too difficult for a servant with nothing to his name to get inside.
Fortunately, I had already prepared a trick for this.
'As expected, I can slip in through the back door.'
At the main entrance they thoroughly verified identities before allowing entry, but the back door was used by servants, musicians, and cooks, so security was relatively lax. Besides, I was wearing a neat servant’s uniform, so I was able to pass without drawing any particular suspicion.
After secretly infiltrating the ball, I swiped the mask from a noble who had passed out drunk and put it on.
In the distance, I spotted a woman wearing a rabbit mask. With her pure white hair and an overwhelming figure that contrasted with the cute mask, she was drawing everyone’s eyes.
'Found her at last.'
That woman had to be her.
The saint who served Solennea, the goddess of light and memory. Aria.
Later she would apostatize, be captured by the inquisitors, and burned at the stake, only to survive and transform into something even more horrific.
“Excuse me, lady over there. If you have the time, would you care to share a dance with me?”
“…I have a prior engagement.”
Men nearby cast flirtatious glances at her, but she coldly rejected them all and kept scanning her surroundings as if desperately searching for someone.
'Did Aria have an appointment with someone today?'
I didn’t recall any such description in the original…
Since someone was clearly targeting her, I should at least approach first and warn her.
The moment I made up my mind and started toward Aria—
Whoosh—
Suddenly someone barged in holding a dagger and charged straight at her.
'Damn it, already!'
The original never specified the exact time of the ambush, so my reaction was inevitably a little slow. There wasn’t enough time to chase him down.
'I have to throw myself in the way.'
The dagger the assassin held was the Dagger of Distortion. A weapon obtained by sacrificing hundreds of people, it carried the energy of an evil god.
'The moment she’s stabbed by that dagger, Aria’s corruption begins.'
It had the same lethality and durability as an ordinary dagger, but as an object infused with an evil god’s power, it contained a curse that distorted every experience the wounded person had ever lived through.
A human being’s way of thinking, their beliefs, everything formed throughout life; it completely reversed them all to their opposites.
In the original, it had been the decisive cause of Aria’s apostasy despite her once being filled with faith.
'The distortion curse comes from an object containing an evil god’s power, so it can’t be dispelled.'
A mind altered by the curse could not be fixed with holy power. Because it didn’t physically harm her in the first place.
'The current Aria has zero combat ability.'
Having grown up as the church’s saint, Aria had possessed immense holy power from birth, but her own physical strength was truly pathetic.
'I have to stop this myself.'
Just before I urgently threw my body forward—
“Huh?”
Crack—
“Kyaaaaack—!”
Contrary to expectation, Aria subdued the assassin in a single move. She twisted the assassin’s arm so brutally that he let out a pitiful scream; she looked frighteningly skilled at this sort of thing.
'As expected, she at least had basic self-defense training as a saint. But I can’t let my guard down.'
Because in the original, the assassin ultimately succeeded in stabbing her.
The pure girl who had never taken a life before would only subdue and not know the proper way to finish someone off—
Crack—
The assassin’s neck snapped like a dry twig.
“???”
The saint had killed a person.
Dagger of Distortion. A blade containing the blessing of the evil god Khala. The effect sealed inside it was not to reverse its victims.
Originally named the Fang of Truth, the dagger possessed the property of forcibly dragging out the true nature hidden deep within the soul.
It had taken me an embarrassingly long time to realize this fact.
At least one weight of guilt had been lifted from my shoulders.
The man watched from afar as a woman carrying a massive greatsword on her shoulder approached.
The Depraved Saint. Nightmare of the inquisitors. A usurper who had personally devoured a fallen ancient god and stolen its divinity.
Her entire body was covered in burn scars and crushed marks. She blinked eyes that had been gouged out long ago, sensing that he had arrived.
Bleeeh—
She comically stuck out her severed tongue, then slowly raised the greatsword.
The man lifted his own blade in response.
Just before they charged—
“…No.”
In an era where not only gods but miracles clearly existed, not believing in God was impossible for anyone except a madman.
“Kyahahahahahaha—!”
Having met another one-eyed person like herself for the first time, she burst into mad laughter and charged at him.
In a world ruled by gods, the duel between two atheists had begun.