There Are Too Many Abyss Shards (1)
Ultimately, it was Kriel who shut Orishin up.
"Hey."
[Hahaha! Did you see that? Me, claiming victory in my duel with that wicked witch─]
"Not something to be proud of."
[Huh?]
"It means even a saintess can't purify your curse. Unless they pull out a grand solemn rite with a bunch of priests, you're stuck with that abyss stain forever."
[Wait. Hold on. Is that... how it works?]
Orishin fell silent for a moment, lost in thought, before wailing, "This wasn't supposed to be my fate!" and vanishing into the Bicorn horn.
Kriel had hoped for a peaceful dinner at last, but instead, he faced Morgina, who made no effort to hide her fury.
She snatched a tray and plopped down right in front of him, whispering in a tiny voice.
"...It's not that I'm lacking in skill."
"I know."
Kriel answered calmly. As far as he knew, Morgina was the most skilled priestess around. If she hadn't stuck close and failed, it would've been impossible for any single person from the start.
"The curse must've been pretty vicious."
"The curse's intensity itself wasn't that bad. The core's the problem."
"The core?"
"The heart of the curse. Something eating away at that lunatic horse head's soul. I tried purification blessings on the spirit over and over, but the deepest root wouldn't budge."
She explained that without cleansing the core, the corruption would keep progressing bit by bit.
Kriel shot back.
"Hold on. If it's structural, doesn't that mean even a grand solemn rite won't work?"
"I can't guarantee results if you pour divine power like crazy... but in principle, no. Blessings borrow the gods' providence, so you need a precise understanding of how it works."
Morgina added a short example. A man with a deadly illness received healing blessings multiple times, improving temporarily but never curing. Turns out, it wasn't an illness—he was infested with parasites.
"Eh, the case studies differ on whether it was parasites or poison, but that's not the point. The lesson is, blindly spamming blessings without proper insight won't solve the root issue."
Kriel picked up the Bicorn horn and stared at it. If there was no way to fix the corruption, what should he do with it?
Suddenly, Orishin's voice echoed in his head.
[W-wait a sec. We've grown a bit close these past few days, right? You won't just go 'crack' or 'snap' on me here, will you?]
Kriel didn't respond.
After hearing about eight variations of Orishin's "Please wait a bit, this is a bad time" plea, a thoroughly pissed-off Morgina muttered.
"That gullible idiot went out of his way to come here... Can't just end it like this...."
"Hey. Gimme that."
"The horn?"
"Yeah. I'll give it a shot somehow."
[Hold up! You planning to hand me over to that thug?! Kriel! Sir Knight!]
Orishin shouted desperately. Unlike the usual mental noise pollution, this time he was so frantic he couldn't even use thought waves—he yelled out loud for all to hear.
"Orishin."
[You're sparing me!]
"There's a saying: What you give, you get back. Should've watched your mouth."
Kriel ignored Orishin's screams and handed the horn to Morgina. It wasn't just to mess with him—it was a preemptive measure to prevent further corruption.
Morgina grinned fiercely.
Kriel saw Morgina again three days and nights later. Her hollow gaze was striking, uncharacteristic of her usual vigor—or bloodthirstiness.
"Here."
What she tossed him was a dagger in an ornate leather sheath. Both hilt and sheath were black, so from afar, it might pass for a short black club.
Kriel drew the dagger. The sharply honed blade gleamed like freshly butchered bone. Bone-white base, but the edge held a faint red tint, as if the blood hadn't fully drained. The sinuously curved, bizarre blade flickered with a unique aura—like foam on waves or sculpted flames—every time it caught the light.
And in that moment, the now-familiar chattering voice pierced his ear.
[So much has happened. I'm exhausted for real.]
"What's this?"
"A dagger made from that horn. Sheath has a silence enchantment. That thing was insanely noisy."
The Bicorn horn was sharp enough to slice plate armor, but its edge concentrated at the tip. Spreading that keenness across the whole blade must've taken serious work.
"Stab some enemies with it now and then, and the corruption should purify. Can't fix the root since that horse head's brain is rotten, but it can cleanse the buildup each time."
Morgina said it casually, but the effort she'd put in rivaled preparations for a cathedral festival. Eve Kaha was the goddess who guided fallen warriors—a war deity at heart. Honorable combat itself could be an offering to her.
Morgina had leveraged that, blessing the horn dagger so battles fought with it became rituals dedicated to Eve Kaha. As long as Kriel held the blade, no risk of the horse eyes rolling back and charging him.
"Alright, get ready."
"Ready?"
"Told you. We gotta meet the Priest-King in a few days. You planning to stomp in wearing that heavy-ass armor? It's the royal presence, y'know?"
Kriel's retort—"Isn't a knight's dress uniform armor?"—meant nothing before the clothes Morgina tossed him. Neat but unflashy, crow-black like her own outfit. A red-thread crow emblem on the chest marked it as Eve Kaha church regalia.
Morgina nodded approvingly at his changed appearance.
"Clothes make the man. Let's go."
The Priest-King hated his position. He should've realized something was off when no one volunteered during the election.
He'd thought it was the pinnacle of temple power, but nope—the peak of paperwork. This was fraud.
"Gods of the pantheon...."
Shorten my term, please.
He couldn't voice the rest. Not blasphemy—just pointless.
"Your Holiness. The saints from the various orders have arrived."
The creaky voice of an old priest outside the office. The Priest-King would pay a fortune to swap jobs with him.
"Send them in."
The office door opened, and the saints filed in slowly. Early in his term, they'd been off in the holy city Temris, unfamiliar faces. Now, after repeated meetings, they were routine.
Hm?
A stranger mingled among the saints at their gathering. He'd said, "For the task I'll assign, you may bring one trusted companion capable of aiding you." Secret mission, so limited to three total including themselves.
Some saints had requisitioned one or two holy knights from their orders, as permitted. All were known to him.
More precisely, he knew every priest visiting the holy city. As supreme ruler, he presided over ordinations and promotions, memorizing every face.
But that white-haired holy knight—marked by Eve Kaha's champion insignia—was new.
"Morgina. Who's that?"
"Our order's champion. Appointed him the other day."
The Priest-King pondered briefly, then nodded. Champion appointments were each order's prerogative. If not Morgina's whim, but an official church decision, it was trustworthy.
"I assume you've all heard the basics. An Abyss Shard has been found."
"How many to call us all?"
"Many."
"How many exactly?"
The insistent one was an old man packed with honed muscle—the Martial Monk, bare-fisted combat expert.
As the Martial Monk pressed, the Priest-King grabbed a pouch from the table and upended it. With a jingle, metal shards spilled out in layers.
Once empty, he opened the next pouch. Then another. And another.
Shards piled into a heap.
"All of these are Abyss Shards."
"Shards that tiny? Too small to be relics, no?"
As the Priest-King opened his mouth to explain, he spotted Morgina pressing two fingers firmly near the champion's shoulder.
"...Yeah, you're right. All Abyss relics."
Hoh? Intrigue lit the Priest-King's eyes. Whoever he was, the champion's senses were exceptional enough for the role.
"But they're not separate relics. More like one split into many─"
Astonishing perception. The Priest-King clapped.
"Damn, Morgina. Where'd you dig up this guy? He's like a human holy barrier gate!"
For Kriel—who'd nearly been booted from the holy city because of those gates—he had no idea what expression to make.