Chapter 254
Chapter 254
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 254
Chapter Title: Reunion with the Archbishop
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“I heard you’re looking for someone.”
My voice carries all the way to the far end of this vast arena.
The announcer’s smiling face freezes in shock. Silence falls, then a few puzzled reactions trickle out from the crowd. People’s wide eyes betray their utter bewilderment.
Far off, I spot Elias’s darkened expression. It’s too distant to make out clearly, but he looks like he’s scowling.
‘I know why he’s doing that….’
Just earlier, he’d begged me to tell him the answer. He’d even offered to memorize it himself.
But that’s impossible. I have to be the one to memorize it.
Why?
Simple. Don’t dig too deep—just stick to the surface.
You must have realized by now that there were several blind spots in the logic up to this point. Dive too deep, and those flaws flip the whole problem on its head. Just like when first learning a subject, we assume the impossible as possible to build the simplest model and solidify the basics without overwhelming beginners—here, too, I need to start simple to clearly grasp the layers of strategy later.
The four clues I considered all clearly point to Ainsidel. Despite those nagging blind spots, ‘on the surface,’ Ainsidel is the one who killed Werner Strauch and harbors intense hatred toward me for the devastating blow I dealt to the Osnabrück diocese.
‘If he recovers his memories, I’ll be the first one he kills.’ That’s the foundation for my inference.
We know that two of the five anagram ciphers appeared along my path: in the bouquet and at the Ainsidel estate. Given that, the culprit’s intent is so blatant it’s almost comical.
The three phrases left in the catacombs are just a superficial tool to give me the illusion of choice. ‘I showed the ciphers to over a hundred people, so anyone could come and recite it’—in other words, dressed up externally to look like it’s not a crime targeting me.
But as the person directly involved, I know the phrases in the ‘catacombs’ aren’t unrelated to me, so I can’t just ignore them. Naturally, this turns everything up to this moment—walking right into the trap of my own volition—into my ‘voluntary’ decision. That’s what the questioner was aiming for. Therefore, we ignore the third book cipher in this reasoning.
Stick to the initial conditions, and the reason I must recite the answer becomes crystal clear.
The cipher’s target is me.
As I told Leo, the magic formula tied to the ‘answer’ is presumably a new curse spell aimed at me.
The questioner wanted me. If I’m the goal behind all this, shouldn’t I play along?
I glance around the silent stands, mindful of the amplification spell the announcer cast. I don’t even know if I’m smiling. But one thing is certain.
There’s no time left.
“I’ll say it once, so listen carefully.”
“Once….”
“The Osnabrück diocese is looking for you!”
Kwaaaang—!!
“…Ugh…!”
The moment I chant the spell, pitch-black smoke comes rushing in.
No—it’s more like a storm. The wind and smoke are so thick I can’t make out people’s hands or faces.
My breath catches.
This reaction, triggered just by speaking the words, proves my hypothesis right. The ‘answer’ I found was the trigger for yet another spell.
“You have to keep your promise.”
I can’t stop here. I need to confirm the curse has been lifted before I go.
Piii—
At my quiet mutter, a screeching noise bursts from the artifact in my ear.
It’s Leo’s signal.
We agreed that if I couldn’t directly verify whether the curse was dispelled—like right now—Leo would send a signal.
Two short bursts: failure.
One long, continuous tone: success.
‘…Finally.’
It’s over.
I want to rejoice a little more. But I know there’s no time for that. The world and my senses begin to separate like glass. My five senses no longer know where they’re drawing input from—everything floats in limbo. Even though I foresaw this whole process, the instantaneous shift fills me with profound disorientation. Separating my senses and finally detaching my consciousness feels like the shock of plummeting into the intermediate realm.
I raise my arm to part the black storm. Or so I think. I think my feet are still planted on the ground.
[What are you doing?]
But my arm is gripped by someone else, and though my vision is still dark, there’s a person right in front of me. Someone is glaring at me with terrifying intensity. Blue eyes filled with killing intent burn in the darkness. Our feet aren’t touching the ground. We—I—am truly in the intermediate realm. I can’t tell if I’m perceiving things properly, thinking straight, just rambling along my stream of consciousness, or if I haven’t reached that point yet. But that’s what it feels like to me.
[What do you think you’re doing?!]
The familiar old human bellows. My gaze drops far down once more. Or maybe up—no way to tell. My sense of balance gives no clue whether I’m upright or inverted. I lack the ability to interpret what my optic nerves are sending. In the intermediate realm laced with warp magic, it’s always like this. Nothing new.
The person before me speaks in a trembling voice. His face is contorted in anguish.
[Do you even know where you almost went? Did you do this knowing that?]
“…….”
The voice fades bit by bit.
This is the last memory from that accursed Pentaron central arena.
* * *
The process of your body shutting down consciousness is never pleasant, no matter how many times you go through it.
Why?
Because whenever my consciousness fades, the hospital staff always shake me awake like madmen. For someone who just wants rest, it’s exhausting. I know why they do it, but as the patient, I’d prefer to rest comfortably right now. Sleep brings an end to the pain and a measure of peace, but the instant they jostle my shoulder, the agony floods back through my body. That despair of being yanked back into the flesh when everything had gone dark—it makes you wish for a brief death.
At any rate, you don’t die from sleeping. Not a wild speculation. Based on experience. Though that doesn’t mean it’s not a forced conclusion.
Why?
Because it is forced. There must be a reason they wake you, right? If sleeping made you healthy, why wake you? You can’t generalize from the lucky times you wake up fine.
Fine.
My consciousness is sharpening bit by bit.
It’s time to drop that question game I usually play to check if I’m sane.
Crackle—pop—
Before I open my eyes, I hear the faint sputter of flames. A goose-down quilt weighs heavy on my body.
“…….”
I’m alive.
For now.
I blink once or twice. Soon enough, I half-realize where I am.
Thud—!
The bed groans as I sit up and kick out with my legs.
Before my eyes is a room that’s unfamiliar yet carries the vibe of someplace I’ve visited once or twice.
Jugendstil silk wallpaper and furnishings catch my eye—a style widely known as Art Nouveau. It’s a design you wouldn’t see in the homes of nobles who favor neoclassical retro elements, but the room’s size and the expansive grounds visible through the window tell me this is a grand estate. Built by some bourgeois magnate, or at least a faithful copy.
At this point, my thoughts drift to someone who looked like a friend’s ancestor, didn’t act like nobility despite the looks, yet held a high position.
“You can sleep more if you’d like.”
As I prop myself up and stare blankly at the wall, an unfamiliar voice comes from my right.
At the far end of the room, a tall young man who looks like a servant is watching me. He seems about my age or Luca’s, making it hard to tell if he’s a new human or an old one. Not that I need to bother distinguishing.
I reflexively touch my ear. The Wittelsbach artifact is still there, thankfully, but the spot for the communication artifact is empty. The servant speaks in a flat tone.
“We’ve taken that. We’ll return it later.”
“…….”
Return it? I know they won’t.
I lower my hand and ask him.
“Where is this place?”
Déjà vu hits.
A chill runs down my spine. Captured by the enemy, yet receiving good treatment—same as when I met Ainsidel in Osnabrück before.
Of course, this time the one I’m meeting again won’t see himself as my enemy.
The servant folds away his magic palette into his jacket, closes the window, and says impassively.
“Looks like you have no intention of sleeping more. I’ve informed the master that Your Excellency is awake. He’ll be here soon.”
He doesn’t answer my question.
Not that it matters.
I’ve already guessed where this is. I met the homeowner in the intermediate realm, after all.
“You mean that master is the owner of this ring?”
I nod toward the sapphire ring on my left hand, and the servant nods back. Now I see—he’s quite rigid compared to the man he serves.
With a slightly weary voice, he tells me to rest and leaves the room.
Not long after the servant departs, there’s a sound like the doorframe’s about to come off its hinges.
Bang—!
Someone flings the door open with a crash and rushes in.
“…….”
The platinum-haired old human I’d seen a couple of times before stands there with a dazed look.
The emotions etched on his face are so awkward that my gaze shifts away on instinct. His shoulder and right arm, hidden under his clothes but unnaturally bulky—probably bandaged.
“Fancy meeting you again.”
I offer a simple greeting.
Meeting him at this juncture falls under one of the two possibilities I’d anticipated ahead of time, so I’m not particularly surprised.
Why am I in his house?
Because of what he said the last time we met.
The bastard actually followed through on his vow to protect me. For the time being, at least—in a manner of speaking.
The archbishop stays silent until another servant in the hall carefully closes the door. Only after a long pause does he murmur softly.
“You really are reckless.”
“…….”
“Say something.”
“I did my utmost to stop a massacre, and this is the thanks I get?”
At my nonchalant reply, the archbishop looks speechless and shrugs.
He’s reacting as if he’s the one with common sense. I don’t want that kind of reaction from a guy like him, so now I’m the one at a loss for words.
The archbishop speaks in a grim tone.
“…I told you that could kill you.”
“You mean the white cipher. Don’t dodge with pronouns—say it plainly.”
“I told you to let me know if you found it. Was that just an excuse to slip out of a bind? You don’t trust my warning? Because I made trouble for you at first?”
“…….”
Like that time in the opera house when he first yelled at me, he raises his voice and presses on.
“Planning a frontal assault? You already knew what magic was tied to that incantation. You already knew the Osnabrück diocese intended to take you!”
I have no intention of responding, so I just look at him.
The archbishop shakes his head and glares.
“You underestimate Pleroma far too much. A frontal assault on a diocese? Impossible.”
“We’ll see when I try.”
I reply the moment he finishes.
He clamps his mouth shut and stares down at me. Now I notice his hands are trembling. A long while later, he staggers over and flops onto the bed.
“…If I hadn’t gotten there in time. What were you planning to do then….”
“…….”
Why go that far? I can tell he sees me as someone without any countermeasures.
Instead of snarking back, I gaze at his profile as he stares into empty space.
Maybe I should’ve taken my medicine again before this. Fatigue is getting in the way of my performance.
Of course, judging by his behavior so far, he’ll feed it to me soon enough—no need.
“…As I said before, Pleroma has pulled back from Pentaron this time.”
“That’s right.”
“And separately, there are other dioceses obsessed with Pentaron. Some of them are targeting powerful mages like you.”
“Yes.”
“You remember me telling you I was blocking those dioceses?”
“I remember.”
My responses stay calm, and his voice drops lower.
“So I told you—just in case, don’t try to decipher anything. Even if you read something, don’t follow it. Always trust your instincts….”
“My instincts told me not to let this terrorist act slide.”
“…….”
The archbishop grimaces.
To think he can fake normal emotions this convincingly. I’d pegged him as nothing but a lunatic. I gaze into his eyes, brimming with deep shock and confusion, and feel a twinge of admiration.
But there’s no need for him to ham it up with such ‘normal’ reactions. For me, it’s better if he acts like his usual loose-screw self rather than picking at me like this.
The deaths of 600,000 versus one person far less likely to die.
Using the latter to prevent the former isn’t a bad trade. I don’t care to entertain rebuttals.
“If you didn’t want me going this far, why didn’t you just stop the terror from the start? You seemed plenty capable.”
“If I could’ve stopped it alone, the leadership would have done so already.”
The archbishop says in a chilling voice.
No point belaboring this. I change the subject.
“More importantly, you never had time to watch over me before—how’d you find me this time?”
“The imperial gazette’s everywhere. Who in this country missed your match? I just happened to spot you in passing….”
Mid-sentence, his lips twitch, and he continues in a subdued tone.
“Now I see that’s not the point. Upset again that I didn’t trail after you this time?”
“Yes.”
“…….”
He whips his head away. His eyes are wide.
‘Upset? As if.’
The exact opposite.
But I can’t say that. Not yet.
At any rate, since he rescued me, he won’t let me go easily. To escape, I need to keep up the act so far. I had no intention of dropping my true demeanor prematurely and stirring up needless trouble.
To him, staring at me with wide eyes, I ask.
“Is that not allowed? I distinctly remember saying the same thing before.”
“At first, you didn’t want me following you.”
“At first… yeah. You’re right.”
I answer with an easy smile. His blue irises waver. Madness starts creeping into his face almost immediately—I want to shove him aside and bolt—but he quickly wipes away the inexplicable frenzy and composes himself.
“…Sorry I didn’t get there faster. I declared so boldly that I’d protect you.”
“No—if you’d come sooner, I’d have resented you instead.”
I wouldn’t have been able to chant the dispelling spell, after all.
True to his lack of common sense, he doesn’t grasp my meaning right away. Of course, he’s not unintelligent—far from it; his quick wits are a real thorn in my side—so he knows full well that if he’d arrived earlier, I couldn’t have dispelled it and 600,000 would’ve died. He’s not oblivious.
His eyes scream: What does the death of 600,000 have to do with you, that you’d resent me? Of course, it’s not that he truly doesn’t care; theoretically he gets it, but he just can’t empathize.
“Never mind that—what’s with your shoulder?”
I nod toward it, and his eyes widen. He clearly didn’t expect me to notice. Staring at me in surprise, he says.
“Got attacked a bit.”
“I figured. How?”
“…It happened while I was hijacking the warp magic attached to the phrase you spoke.”
“Must hurt, with the wound that big.”
“No. Treated it quickly—fine now.”
“Good to hear.”
As I speak, I feel my stamina draining. Leaning against the bed’s headboard, I let him bring up a topic I’d been curious about.
“…This incident turned Pleroma’s leadership upside down. No one knew that diocese had tech like that.”
Hm. Not a lie.
I saw the leadership upheaval myself in the previous timeline.
I’d expected more on Pleroma’s reaction and his own assessment, but he shifts topics.
“Want to do something? Rest up, then relax here in our coordinate system—let off some steam.”
“No. I can’t stay here indefinitely.”
“Time a problem? Don’t worry. I brought you to a place with time dilation on purpose. A day here is two hours outside.”
“Two hours. It was one hour per day before.”
“Right. But this estate is in a different coordinate system.”
I stare at him blankly, and he continues on his own.
“It collapsed.”
“…….”
“The one we wandered around when we first met. Did you like it? Sorry, but we can’t go there anymore.”
Collapsed.
I’d figured as much.
Back when Lichtofen got caught in the catacombs, he’d lamented their tech falling to Pleroma and shown pride in it. That’s when I learned the catacombs had pressured Pleroma’s coordinate system.
‘Effective.’
Catacombs lives up to its tech rep.
I’d suspected from the severe time-axis distortion, but they fully collapsed it. Of course, Pleroma’s no pushover—they keep stubbornly rebuilding no matter how many we smash. That’s the issue.
At any rate, I need to remember: one day here equals two hours out there.
I nod slowly, and the archbishop elaborates.
“You didn’t realize it was a different coordinate because it looks just like the previous estate. It’s a copy I made ages ago. When the time dilation gets worse, we’ll shift to another coordinate system.”
“…….”
“Glad to see you healthy again. I’ll come back once you’ve recovered.”
He smiles and rises without lingering. I grab him and say in disbelief.
“Where are you going? We just met.”
“The leadership issued an arrest warrant for the Osnabrück diocese bishop. I have to go help somehow.”
“I figured you’d stick around longer. You move faster than expected.”
At my words, he points to the sapphire ring on his own finger—the same kind he gave me.
A hollow laugh escapes me. So, no need to obsess over already-caught prey like at first? If he’s pushing that logic, it’s not the worst….
The problem is I can’t let him leave like this. At the very least, he needs to give me some useful intel first.
“‘I’ll come back’? You’ve got it wrong. I need to head back now.”
“Why?”
“I’m officially missing in the empire right now.”
The archbishop rolls his eyes in distress.
“…It’s tricky now. Wait until the leadership captures him and recovers his authority. Then I’ll let you go.”
I look up at him silently. Sensing the explanation’s lacking, he continues.
“Whether it’s the world outside Pleroma or anywhere else, leaving this coordinate system is suicide. Right now, you’re a top-priority target for the leadership too.”
“Raid Osnabrück for their tech, then take me—the one they found? That’s the leadership’s plan now, right?”
“Exactly. It’s already happened, so they surely will. No one knows yet that I hijacked the magic and saved you. If anyone finds out….”
He takes my hand in his.
“Then even I won’t be able to protect you.”
“…….”
“Besides, that Osnabrück bishop knew this terror went against the leadership’s will and still escalated it this far. If you go out now, who knows what their tech might do to you.”
“‘Do to me’? I’ll just go straight to them. Like you said earlier.”
The archbishop tilts his head with a chilling expression.
“Dead set on dying, are you?”
“You said there’s plenty of time.”
Ignoring him, I press on.
“Then we just use that time to take down the Osnabrück diocese.”
“I saved your life. You want to waste my effort?”
“You must see me as someone who’d die easily? Thanks for the help, but I would’ve survived regardless.”
The archbishop’s face hardens. Naturally, he’s displeased. But right now, I don’t need to worry about that.
For now, I have to stick to my guns. This whole conversation will be valuable intel for any contingencies.
Undeterred, I continue.
“This way, I can’t even go to another coordinate system, let alone sightsee. You say going back to our world risks getting nabbed there too. You really think the leadership—or you—can catch someone you’ve failed to snag all this time, and in such a short window?”
“Then what about you….”
Before he can counter, I lean in close and say.
“In the end, we’re stuck circling inside this coordinate system until the Osnabrück bishop is caught, aren’t we? And a ‘coordinate system’ probably means jack outside this mansion—no real facilities.”
My words seem to hit home. Instead of rebutting, the archbishop wears an ambiguous expression.
“Before, you said you’d thought of things you want to try with me. Sounds like there’s a lot on that list?”
“…….”
“Mutual benefit to nab the Osnabrück bishop quick, right?”
I never imagined sharing a battlefield with Pleroma.
He probably never foresaw teaming up with Nikolaus either.
Looking into the archbishop’s eyes, I say.
“Then how about we sync up our breathing for once?”
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