It Isn't Here
An old man knelt before a sacred image.
Inside a house raised with rough hands, he had folded his palms neatly and bowed his head, and the sight of him was pious, faithful. He looked like a man who believed in his god more fiercely than any cleric alive.
The old man murmured.
"Eclipse God, bestow rest upon us."
Small as the words were, they passed the door and reached the people going along the road. They bowed their heads, each in their own way, and prayed.
"Eclipse God, bestow rest upon us."
The old man went on, and the people answered him.
"Beating Your black wings, You burn the world."
"Beating Your black wings, You burn the world."
"Upon the scorched earth You raise a new world."
"Upon the scorched earth You raise a new world."
"Unworthy as we are, we shall be servants of that world."
"Unworthy as we are, we shall be servants of that world."
"The Morning Star shall shine clear."
"The Morning Star shall shine clear."
The prayer ended, and the old man rose. Those who had followed him through the litany went back to their own work.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in."
The door slid open, and a woman entered.
A beautiful blonde bowed to the old man.
"May the Morning Star bless you."
"May the Morning Star bless you."
The greeting was brief. The two of them sat.
"You look unwell today. Worse than usual."
She was the one who spoke. Her voice was like starlight adrift in the void.
Pain crossed the old man's face.
"The faithful are fighting for our god, are they not? Not a day passes that my heart knows any peace."
He buried his face in his hands.
"I dream nightmares. I see believers dying. Those vile heretics swing the blades of blasphemy, certain that they are in the right."
His tears fell, drop by drop, onto the table. Light from the window made shadows of them, and the shadows looked like a black sun.
"All this old carcass can do is pray."
"How can you say such a thing?"
She would not let it stand.
"You have always been the first to step forward. You have always led us. And you call it nothing but prayer?"
She knew how hard the old man labored. Aged body or not, he never hesitated to stand before people; he was always at the front, a lamp for the rest of them. Sleepless nights of work were the least of it. He counseled those who were suffering, and not a single day passed in which he skipped the Eclipse God's prayers.
A man in his place might have drowned in wealth and glory and still have had too little—and he refused even that, and lived spare. This house, all of it, he had built himself. The sacred image over there, he had made that too.
"That is not so."
"It is not. I won't accept it."
The woman and the old man bickered back and forth.
"Heh. Very well."
He conceded, as if he had no choice.
"But what brings you here?"
"Yes. Please look at this."
She held out the paper she had brought. It was written in cipher, and the old man studied it for a long while.
"......A defeat. And a surrender."
He let out a sigh.
"Yes, Pontiff. A result I could not be more ashamed of."
"May the Morning Star bless you."
The old man, the Pontiff, prayed it under his breath.
"It is not the first time, nor the second. Even so, it is not a thing one grows used to."
"We must call heaven's punishment down on them at once."
"Compose yourself, Saintess. This holy war is a great work without precedent for us as well."
The Pontiff stroked the emblem of Ilshikgyo that hung at his throat.
For so long the church had been desperate merely to stay hidden. Now was the season of its rising. Set against the countless trials still ahead, even this would become a small thing.
"War is not something one can only win."
"But if we go on like this, we will not survive the holy war."
Ilshikgyo had announced the opening of the holy war by purifying lecherous swine across Europe. In Germany, Spain, France, Sweden, Switzerland, and elsewhere, the war had offered the blood of that purification up to the Eclipse God.
Then the heretics' wicked blades had turned upon the faithful.
Ilshikgyo did not refuse an old enemy it had fought for a long time.
Perhaps because the holy war was so vast, neither side gave ground easily. Ilshikgyo's champions met them with courage, and the heretics came swarming out like cockroaches to stand in the church's way.
But faith in the Eclipse God alone was a hard thing with which to break reality. Toppling heretics backed by the swine of every nation was not easy.
It was still early, and the disadvantage had not yet shown its face. Even so, that Ilshikgyo was losing was plain. A way had to be found, and soon.
"This, too, is a trial, Saintess."
The Pontiff's eyes shone with resolve.
"Make defeat into experience, and take the believers who surrendered back into the fold. Better still—let them teach you what not to do, and press further."
"But..."
Against the Saintess's doubt, the Pontiff smiled, gentle.
"It is all right, Saintess. There is always a way through."
He looked at her with steady eyes.
"The Eclipse God has sent down a revelation."
"A revelation!"
The Saintess shot to her feet and dropped to her knees.
"Tell me what that revelation is!"
"A moment, Saintess. Please, rise."
The Pontiff moved quickly to stop her.
She was thrown off.
"Is it not a revelation? Then why..."
"Because the one that revelation names is you, Saintess!"
Rapture flooded her face.
"Ah! At last!"
"Saintess. Faith has turned toward you."
He congratulated her with all his heart. She wept in floods.
"What is it? What is the revelation?"
"Saintess. Go to Hawaii at once."
"Hawaii?"
The Pontiff nodded.
"Truly!"
The Saintess leapt. She leapt so high she smashed the church ceiling and shot up into the sky.
Thud!
She came back down to earth with splinters of wood stuck all over her. As if no greater joy existed, she tore at her own hair, shaking with excitement.
"C-can someone like me really be given such glory!"
"The Eclipse God named you Himself."
Her face was a smear of spit. The Pontiff took her hands in his.
"Complete the rite without a flaw. Do not worry over the holy war. This old body will buy the time."
"I understand!"
The Saintess rose, unbending. In her eyes, the fire of resolve came on like a storm.
"This honor—I will carve it deep into my heart, and I will see it done!"
"May the Morning Star bless you."
She departed at once. The preparations were already finished, so she would go straight to Hawaii.
"Mm."
The Pontiff wiped his face with a handkerchief.
"Haa..."
Whoooosh.
Wind came in through the ceiling she had broken. And in the place where she had been standing, there was a yellow liquid.
At the faint smell of ammonia, the Pontiff pressed a hand to his brow.
"Devotion is a fine thing, but... honestly..."
He picked up the rag left in the room. Eyeing the ceiling, he started working out what the repairs would cost.
"I'll have to finish it today."
Pontiff of Ilshikgyo.
For the sake of setting an example for the organization, he wiped the floor with the rag.
Through the hole in the ceiling, the sky was thick with storm cloud.
Rain was due today.
"So it's started..."
A mass campaign of terror, raised by nothing more than a cult. What they called a holy war, ordinary people were already calling the Ilshikgyo Terror War.
"Are you watching the news?"
"Yes. Europe's a complete mess."
"Is it..."
Dan Miryu let out a groan, as if his head ached.
"Haa... Ilshikgyo..."
"Don't trouble yourself over it. Just rest."
"How am I supposed to not trouble myself..."
Dan Miryu sank back into the first-class seat.
"They say those bastards are right where we're headed..."
The answer to that was a bitter smile.
"I can handle it. Get some of the sleep you've been missing."
"I couldn't just..."
"Just go to sleep already!"
"Ack!"
Mi Soryeong, who had been listening at his side, reluctantly drove a knuckle into Dan Miryu's head.
"I said it's fine! Are you trying to ruin the mood?!"
"N-no, it's just..."
Dan Miryu fidgeted with his fingers.
Mi Soryeong snapped hers.
"Yumin. I'm counting on you."
"All right."
"Kraaaah."
Hong Yumin murmured something like a spell, and Dan Miryu drifted off to dreamland.
"You've been through enough. Would it kill you to rest?"
Mi Soryeong set him properly upright, then went back to Hong Yumin's side.
"Kyaa! Little Lord San-gun is too cute!"
"Give him here! He is mine!"
"Just let me pet him a little!"
"Ma'am, you can't let animals loose in the cabin!"
San-gun, shrunk down to about the size of a cat so he could come along to Hawaii, rolled this way and that. He looked past resignation. He looked enlightened.
"Ahh. This is what they call a legend seat. Most expensive seat on the plane."
Dan Chuyeon, too thrilled about going to Hawaii to contain himself, was bragging to a friend over the call.
The cabin announcement came on.
Ah—passengers, the aircraft will be departing shortly. Please take your seats.
"We're off."
A plushness deeper than any bed rose to meet his back.
In Hawaii, securing that comes first. The Saintess is extra—figure out what to do with her.
The holy war had begun, so the Saintess would be in Hawaii.
Well. Whether she's there or not. That matters more.
The route to Hawaii came up on the cabin screen. He looked at Hawaii on the map, and realized it without meaning to. This was another world.
It isn't here.
The one from our world.
The continent in the Pacific.
The Mu Continent.