Flames and Lightning Claim the Piano
Right before my eyes unfolded a bizarre phenomenon, as if put on display just for me. If I'd been deep in concentration, I might have missed it, but the flames and lightning that appeared the instant I pressed the keys made me freeze.
Had Dale secretly installed some special device on the instrument while I wasn't looking? Of course, I knew that was nonsense. Dale himself was standing behind me with his mouth agape.
As I pondered what to do, the lightning and flames swirled through the air before ascending back into the sky. But their presence hadn't vanished entirely. Instinctively, I felt something gazing down at me. It was just like... when I'd first played the violin and the goddess Armonia had bestowed her revelation upon me.
I swallowed hard.
Then I exchanged glances with Dale. But he still looked utterly dazed. No wonder—anyone could see this was no ordinary omen.
On the other hand, I had a pretty good idea of what I needed to do. No matter how I looked at it, this felt like a nudge to keep playing.
"Hmm."
After a moment's hesitation, I had no choice but to press the keys again.
Ding—
Not the carillon's tone, but the piano's clear, crystalline sound rang out. I didn't fully understand what was happening, but if what it wanted was for me to keep playing the piano, I had no intention of refusing.
Ding, diriring, ding—
And so, I resumed playing as if nothing had happened. It wasn't quite the pressure of performing a master's piece before a huge crowd, but a considerable weight still pressed on my shoulders.
Yet as I continued, that burden drifted far away. Soon, only the white and black keys stretched out before me in orderly rows.
Each press produced the exact note I desired. In that moment, I felt profound happiness. It was like something that belonged was finally back in its rightful place. Ever since falling into this world, no matter how many instruments I'd played, there had always been an unfulfilled craving—and now it was being sated.
Diriring, ding—
With every movement of my hands, the melodies stored in my mind flowed out without obstruction. I didn't stop until the final note resolved.
Ding—!
"Hoo... whew."
When I finally finished my original composition, a sense of relief washed over me, and I let out a long breath.
Pajijik! Hwarak!
The lightning and flames reappeared right after. They clashed in the air as if they were mortal enemies, then swirled toward me in a vortex.
Chijijik!
They left their mark on the piano. I reflexively checked the traces and shuddered.
"This is..."
The symbols looked strangely familiar.
I looked up at Dale. He approached hesitantly, peered at the marks on the piano, and his eyes widened in shock.
"G-God preserve us..."
That wasn't just an exclamation.
"...Is this what I think it is?"
"I-It seems so, young master."
The flame symbolized the god Akat, patron of warriors, courage, and fire. And the lightning etched beside it was the mark of Millen, god of the moon and the hunt.
In other words, two gods had left their marks simultaneously.
"Why...?"
I couldn't help but be bewildered. Why on earth would the gods of warriors and hunting suddenly descend with revelations? And as if they were competing? The piece I'd played had no connection to either of them. What was going on?
In this world, gods and humans live in extremely close communion. Just as humans devote great interest to the gods, the gods lavish attention on humanity in return. A god's concern for mortals isn't mere whimsy. While gods possess inherent divinity, their power and authority are greatly influenced by the number of their followers.
They no longer held annual votes to determine divine seats as in ancient times, but the quantity and status of devotees still symbolized a god's prestige. In that regard, an exceptional follower was invaluable—one standout could wield more influence than thousands or even tens of thousands of ordinary believers.
—Arden.
From that perspective, Arden was more than worthy of drawing the gaze of the pantheon. With just a single piece, he'd captured the attention of countless people.
Armonia, who had noticed him first, had seen her standing soar as a result.
—I need to stake my claim before anyone else.
—Indeed.
Thus, some more impatient deities had begun monitoring his every move. It was no surprise that the most hot-tempered among them seized the opportunity the moment it arose—without even verifying if his music was truly exceptional.
Of course, those on the mortal plane had no inkling of such heavenly machinations.
From their viewpoint, only one thing mattered.
"What? He received another revelation?"
"Yeah! And get this—two gods at once!"
Arden had received yet another revelation. From two gods, no less.
The name Arden, which had kept the capital buzzing for weeks, surged back into prominence. No—interest was even greater than before. Unlike his anonymous debut, he'd already drawn widespread acclaim from his performance at the wedding.
"What the...?"
Meanwhile, Arden was plunged into utter confusion. Revelations not once, but twice. The first made sense in hindsight—the piece had been Vivaldi's Four Seasons, hailed on Earth as the work of a master among masters.
But this time? It was just his own original composition. Sure, it was the first piece played on the newly crafted piano... but it hardly compared to the violin incident.
"Why, though?"
Yet he'd received revelations again. From two gods, no less. And these weren't minor faiths—Millen, god of hunters and the moon, went without saying, but Akat, god of warriors, courage, and flame, commanded one of the empire's top three temples by sheer size.
The ripple effect was thus far stronger than before. Nearly everyone in the capital had already been watching him, but now his name echoed across the entire empire. Even grandiose, burdensome titles like "Musician Blessed by the Gods" and "Divine Talent" were being bandied about.
"Why?!"
A mere mortal like Arden could never know the truth: the two gods had rushed in with their marks before even hearing the piece, desperate to get there first.
"Haah."
In the end, Arden gave up trying to figure it out.
Instead, he turned to something more productive.
"What pieces should I play at the concert?"
He pondered the program for his invited performance at the Armonia Temple. One piece was already set: Vivaldi's Four Seasons, the very one that had earned the revelation.
But performing just one felt lacking. At the wedding, he'd only done a single piece because he was a supporting act. Here at Armonia, though, he was the star—the temple had arranged it specifically for him.
"I should prepare at least three top-tier ones."
Standard practice for a solo concert was a minimum of three pieces, regardless of the venue. Naively, he could add Salut d'Amour to Four Seasons. He'd played it before to rave reviews.
"But does Salut d'Amour fit right after Four Seasons...?"
Both had a fresh, uplifting feel, but they weren't similar enough.
"Maybe play all four movements straight through."
He'd only done Spring last time, so flowing into the rest would make narrative sense. But unveiling the remaining movements all at once felt overwhelming.
"Urgh."
Thus, Arden racked his brains without reaching a decision.
As he agonized, there came a knock.
Knock knock knock.
Arden snapped out of his thoughts and looked up.
—Young master, a guest has arrived.
It was one of the servants.
'A guest?'
Arden frowned in puzzlement. Monica wasn't due back from vacation for another week. He stood, opened the door, and asked the servant,
"A guest? Who?"
The servant bowed slightly and replied,
"Priestess Ristel from the Armonia Temple."
"Ristel...?"
The unfamiliar name drew a quizzical look, but Arden straightened his clothes and followed the servant up the stairs. He couldn't greet a guest in the basement.
But when he reached the top and saw her, Arden couldn't hide his shock.
"...! Could it be?"
"...No, it's not!"
The visitor was none other than the Saintess of the Armonia Temple.