Those Who Wait for the End (1)
A week later, I received a summons from the royal palace. It seemed Bishop Andre had succeeded in forging a new agreement with the Kairos Kingdom. Along with that joint cooperation, the Holy Kingdom apparently decided to let the matter of the damaged Crown of Thorns slide without making a fuss. Keeping a lingering sense of unease in a corner of my mind, I returned the salutes of the royal palace guards.
"A summons. It's been a while since we got one of these. Is this the first time we've been called for something other than a formal ceremony in almost half a year?" Georg muttered. Since it wasn't an official event, we wore clothes that only met the bare minimum of etiquette.
Daphne had apparently succeeded in refining her mana during this time, as she exuded a much more mature aura. She was likely at the very peak of the 5th Circle, knocking on the door of the 6th Circle. Now that the wall blocking her path had been shattered, there was nothing to hinder her growth. I felt a swell of pride as I sensed her pure, refined mana.
"The Doomsday Cult, was it? I've only heard whispers of them in rumors. I had no idea they actually existed."
"It's my first time hearing of them. People who worship the end of the world and the Calamities..." Daphne tilted her head in confusion at Georg's words. Beside them, Marianne kept her mouth tightly shut as usual, but her silence felt different from her normal quietness. I stared at Marianne for a moment before correcting my posture and walking forward.
"The fact that people who used to operate in the shadows to avoid surveillance have been spotted means they might already be plotting something," Georg said, his brow furrowing. Daphne rubbed her arms and swallowed hard.
"They can only say such things because they've never actually seen a Calamity, right?"
"Some might say it precisely because they have seen one," I replied. I didn't know if they were people captivated by the power of the Calamities, fanatics who had worshiped the Evil God from the very beginning, or a group whose despair over the disasters had curdled into hatred for humanity.
"It will probably be a completely different kind of fight." Daphne nodded, then turned her head toward Marianne. "Still, we couldn't just let Marianne go alone. You made the right choice, Elroy."
"I agree. In any case, this is much better than splitting up. And now that we know those bastards exist, it would be strange for us to just sit on our hands." Marianne spoke up, her voice softer than usual.
"I am sorry."
"Hey, if anyone should be apologizing, it's Elroy. Dragging us all along was our Hero's decision, after all. Isn't that right, Elroy?" Georg playfully brushed off Marianne's apology and looked at me. I smirked, raising one corner of my mouth.
"I don't feel particularly sorry."
"Arrogant, shameless, exploitative party leader bastard," Georg grumbled, widening his stride to overtake me. Daphne, who had been watching our banter, let out a chuckle and stepped closer to Marianne.
"There's no need to apologize between comrades. In times like this, all you have to say is thank you for coming with me." Marianne blinked her golden eyes and looked at Daphne. Because she was usually so quiet, she had always seemed mature, but seeing her like this made me realize that she really was the youngest member of our party.
"Yes... thank you." Of course, her expression didn't change in the slightest.
Guided by the guard, we walked down the wide corridors of the royal palace. The ministers we occasionally passed either slunk away to avoid my gaze or bowed with utmost humility. Well, at least they weren't trying to tear me apart anymore.
"Her Majesty is waiting inside with the Bishop. Also, I heard the Bishop brought along the personnel who arrived for this joint cooperation..." The guard stopped in front of the conference room and glanced at the tightly shut doors. "You will find out the details once you step inside."
The guard knocked loudly three times, and with a heavy click, the double doors of the conference room swung open. The first person to catch my eye was the Queen.
"Hero Elroy pays his respects to Her Majesty the Queen." After offering my formal greetings to the Queen, I subtly shifted my gaze to scan the room. Bishop Andre was seated opposite the Queen. He was to be expected, as were a few unfamiliar figures in priestly vestments—likely Heretic Inquisitors under his command. But then, my brow furrowed sharply as I saw the individuals sitting between the Bishop and the Inquisitors. Why the hell are they here?
In Evernode, winter is generally considered to last from October to mid-April. Of course, that is just how the locals define it; in reality, by the end of August, any warmth resembling summer is long gone, and a crisp, biting chill begins to drift through the air.
"Impressive skill. I suppose that's to be expected of a former mercenary." Aryen gave a curt nod to the knight's praise. It would be an understatement to say the northern knights and soldiers did not welcome Aryen and Isis; they still regarded them with wariness and found them difficult to deal with. Aryen didn't particularly care whether they guarded themselves against him or not, but there was one fact that grated on his nerves.
"Well, then again, the Hero also showed incredible prowess when he first went out on patrol." That all of this wariness stemmed from the Hero.
"It really is a shame for you. If you had stayed in the Hero's party, you would be enjoying all the glory a man could ever dream of." Every time the word "Hero" was mentioned, Aryen felt a surge of irritation. Whether Elroy had achieved it on his own or with the help of Grand Duke Quenor, the fact remained that he had realized the idealism he had spoken of during the battle against the Kraken. The fact that he hadn't had to sacrifice anything in the process deeply unsettled the mercenary.
There were no cries of agony like in Vaktins. It wasn't that Aryen was indifferent to their suffering, but he believed it had been inevitable. If they hadn't made those choices back then, everyone would have died—the Hero, the Saintess, the mercenary, and the screaming, wounded residents of Vaktins alike.
"I'm truly curious. Why did the Hero dismiss someone as strong as you?" Aryen was simply too powerful for the knights to ignore or whisper about in secret. Had his strength been on par with Georg or Marianne, they might have understood, but Aryen's martial prowess was formidable enough to be considered just a step below the Grand Duke's. Even if there had been internal strife, it seemed a waste of raw power to just cast him aside.
"It's none of your business. I simply did what I had to do. Even if he hadn't kicked me out, I would have left that party eventually," Aryen snapped, his voice laced with irritation. The knight accompanying him narrowed his eyes. Aryen grit his teeth, turned around, and walked away.
"He didn't acknowledge me, and I couldn't acknowledge him. That's all there is to it."
"...Right. I see." There are no heroes. Saving everyone is, in the end, nothing but a pipe dream. The mercenary, Aryen, sheathed his sword. The face of that madman, who had spoken with absolute coldness about marching into the jaws of death, flashed in his mind. He remembered the look in the eyes of the bastard who insisted on carrying firewood straight into a blazing pit. Self-sacrifice was a delusion. He could never accept such a path. One person's way of life was another's poison.
"...What a joke," Aryen muttered, standing at the gates of the outer castle and looking out over the streets of Evernode. There was no suffering here, no grief. Even if someone were to feel sorrow, no one was left to wallow in it.
"Dammit." Aryen spat a curse and led his horse back to the stable. He didn't feel like staying here much longer. It was too different from the world he knew. The world the mercenary had experienced was not warm enough to accept this kind of reality. A bitter taste filled his mouth. In the end, the scene the Hero had brought to life was something the mercenary could never have achieved. He felt as if the scent of blood was lingering at the tip of his nose.
"Sir Aryen." Waiting for Aryen as he stepped out of the stable was one of the members of the Holy Kingdom's delegation. Aryen let out a sigh, shaking off his stray thoughts, and greeted the priest. "What is it?"
"It has been decided that we are leaving Evernode. The Saintess and the Grand Duke are waiting for you." Aryen nodded and set off. Since there was barely any post-war reconstruction to be done, he had expected to leave soon, but this felt somewhat abrupt.
"This seems rather sudden."
"There was a summons from the Holy Kingdom. It seems a matter more urgent than the recovery of this place has arisen."
An urgent matter? Aryen frowned. Had something happened to Isis? "We can discuss the details inside," the priest said. Before the priest could even knock, the doors to the manor's conference hall swung open. The atmosphere inside was far more solemn than Aryen had anticipated.
Isis, though trying to remain composed, was speaking with a pale, half-panicked face. Even the Grand Duke, who was usually indifferent and expressionless, had a stiff, grim look as they conversed. At the sound of the door opening, both of them looked up simultaneously to face Aryen.
"...Ah, the mercenary. Take a seat first." Once Aryen sat down, the priest who had been leading the conversation between the Grand Duke and Isis let out a long sigh. He was a middle-aged priest, essentially the leader of the reconstruction support delegation.
"Under the circumstances, it would be best to explain everything from the beginning." The priest pushed up the spectacles resting halfway down his nose and turned toward the mercenary. "The Doomsday Cultists have resurfaced, Sir Aryen. Have you ever heard of them?"
Aryen nodded. He hadn't survived as a mercenary for over a decade for nothing. He was well aware of the existence of the Doomsday Cult. "I thought they were a dying organization."
"No. They have suddenly begun to stretch their wings. After operating in the shadows of the world's back alleys and underground to evade the eyes of the Kairos Kingdom and the Holy Kingdom, they have crawled back into the light, spurred by the movements of the third and fourth Calamities." Aryen's brow furrowed. The arrival of the Calamities was indeed the perfect catalyst for them to begin acting. But for them to expand their influence so quickly that they caught the attention of the authorities...
"While they have resumed operations within the Kairos Kingdom, the Holy Kingdom is by no means uninvolved. It has been decided that the Holy Kingdom will take the lead in hunting them down. The Kairos Kingdom has promised to maintain close communication and provide all possible support." The priest briefly summarized the situation, and before long, Aryen found himself wearing the same grim expression as everyone else in the room.
He knew all too well how vile the Doomsday Cultists were. The atrocities he had heard of during his mercenary days were enough to make even a battle-hardened sellsword shudder. "Since it's a matter concerning the Holy Kingdom, I suppose the Saintess cannot be left out?" At Aryen's question, the priest nodded.
"Yes. She will likely accompany the Heretic Inquisitors to investigate the regions where the Doomsday Cultists have appeared. Since those fanatics will handle the dirty work themselves, the Saintess will focus on calming the public, collaborating with local church branches, and tending to the victims." The Heretic Inquisitors. Those zealots. Aryen grimaced slightly, while Grand Duke Quenor, who had been listening intently, let out a heavy sigh.
"This is troubling. The thought that they might have stretched their reach even to Evernode makes it impossible for me to sit idly by."
"...This place will likely be fine," Isis replied, prompting a bitter smile from Grand Duke Quenor.
"It is a bitter pill to swallow. Of course, there's no need to cause unnecessary panic among the citizens, but I will quietly increase the patrol forces. Especially in the back alleys where our eyes don't normally reach. For the time being, we will conduct thorough sweeps focusing on those areas. In any case, thank you for bringing this crucial information to my attention." The Grand Duke expressed his gratitude to the priest before turning his gaze to Aryen.
"Do you intend to continue accompanying the Saintess? From what I've heard, you are under no obligation to remain by her side."
"...No. I was hired, so I will escort her to the very end." Aryen spoke firmly as he looked at Isis. She was visibly trembling with anxiety. Was there really a reason for her to be this terrified?
"...Very well. Do your best." The Grand Duke looked as if he wanted to say more, but he simply shook his head and stood up. "Thank you for supporting us here in Evernode. I wish you the best of luck on your journey ahead."
"I only did what had to be done. Thank you for welcoming us so warmly despite the difficult circumstances." As Isis spoke of doing what had to be done, a deep, heavy guilt washed over her face. For the past few weeks since they had arrived in Evernode, her expression had always looked like this.
It was after they left the Stroft manor, while they were walking to pack their belongings. The priest stared at Isis's back as she trudged ahead, letting out a heavy sigh. "Though this is the right path, it will be a grueling journey." When Aryen turned to look at him, a dark shadow fell over the priest's face.
"Is there something else?"
"Well..." At Aryen's anxious inquiry, the priest cast a quick glance toward Isis to make sure she wasn't listening, then lowered his voice. "The Doomsday Cultists who resurfaced... their primary area of activity is said to be around Vaktins."