8. Curse Plague (29)
8. Curse Plague (29)
The three fell silent for a moment, exchanging glances.
The abrupt revelation hit them hard.
The Black Magician and Devolut.
Despite their notoriety, little was concretely known about either of them.
And now a connection between the two?
It led to an inexorable conclusion.
"You mean to say the Black Magician is behind the Curse Plague as well?"
The priest murmured in disbelief.
Vayer nodded.
"Sister Valentina conducted an epidemiological investigation into the Abyss gate opening at dawn."
Whenever a demon appeared, supernatural traces always accompanied it.
Exorcists analyzed those patterns statistically to determine what had widened the passage to the Abyss.
"The investigation showed that mass vengeful spirits accounted for twenty percent, environmental factors for ten percent, and a 'rite' to a Demon God for sixty percent."
The word rite made the priest's face go rigid.
"I—are you certain? A rite?"
A rite to a Demon God encompassed any method of communicating with one.
Through rites, Madosa received commissions or rewards, struck bargains, and asked favors of Demon Gods.
Contrary to the Holy Church's propaganda, a rite did not necessarily involve blood offerings or degenerate acts.
For example, the archetypal rite to Kirkeus was a "performance." Acrobats, magicians, and actors put on a spectacle and, receiving the cheers and fervor of a crowd, offered worship to the Demon God Kirkeus.
In exchange, they were often granted supernal power known as Inspira.
Because most Demon God-granted powers had to be sustained through regular rites, Madosa performed them in whatever manner their patron demon required.
So long as no crime was involved, Demon God worship hardly seemed to deserve persecution.
Yet there was one problem with rites aimed at a Demon God: the very act of communicating with one widened the passage between this world and the Abyss.
That had been the Holy Church's primary justification for suppressing Demon God worship from the start.
In the age when all manner of primitive faiths ran rampant, demons of a ferocity now unimaginable roamed the land, and humans had to huddle through the night by faint flames.
The grim fairy tales that seem so unbelievable now, in an era of airships and steam locomotives, reflected the reality of those times.
But as the Holy Church gained power, countless indigenous faiths were branded threats to humanity and exterminated.
Thanks to that, demons became so rare that some people could live their whole lives without ever seeing one.
Even amid that history of persecution, rites to Kirkeus had been fortunate enough to continue under the Church's solemnity—because performances elevated people's spiritual energy, which was found to counteract the erosion of the Abyss's walls.
However, the fanatical era that reduced everything to a clash between light and darkness had long since ended.
Backlash against the Holy Church's hegemony and advances in mado research had blunted the suppression of Demon God worship.
These days, even Madosa performing rites would rent a quiet place in a bustling city in broad daylight; they would not hold them at night in plague-stricken rural villages where people were dropping dead.
Unless, of course, someone was deliberately trying to summon a demon...
"A rite large enough to call forth a high-ranking demon..."
"Hasn't anyone suspicious been seen in the area?"
"You'd be quicker asking Sir Ivanenko about that. He's overseen all security in this village since the plague broke out. If word of anything unusual came in, it would have reached him. Speaking of which, where is Sir Ivanenko? I heard he was with you when you subdued the Reaper..."
At the priest's question, Vayer exchanged a quick glance with Valentina and replied.
"He went to carry word to the nearby villages. He'll return shortly."
The pursuit team finished their meal and stepped outside the church.
The two politely declined the priest's offer of wine.
They had just reached the village meeting hall when Ivanenko rode up on horseback.
"What happened with the circus troupe?"
"I saw them off down the coastal road."
Valentina looked worried.
"Will they be all right? Word will spread through the region by tomorrow at the latest."
"The conspicuous members were put inside wagons or into cages with covers drawn over them. They handled it skillfully, as if they were used to it. And the travel pass I gave them means they won't be stopped for inspection anywhere in the hill country."
An entire village had been annihilated in this incident.
The killing had been done by monsters and demons, but outsiders would assume the Curse Plague was responsible—the area had been sealed off because of it, after all.
And yet the Monster Circus Troupe alone had survived a scene where everyone else had died?
There was no telling how panicked locals would react.
The odds were high they would riot, screaming that the troupe should be killed before it could spread the plague further.
A local lord might even lead soldiers in person to calm such a mob.
Even if the three of them swore the troupe was innocent, the counter-claim was obvious: "It's because of those freaks that the demon appeared!"
Staying here any longer was a gamble.
So they had been all but driven out, still nursing their wounds. Shabby treatment for the heroes who had slain the demon.
That was also why Vayer and Valentina had said nothing about Wonderstein to the priest.
Spiritual protection of the parish was the priest's duty.
And he would find it hard to escape blame for the opening of an Abyss passage.
It was the same as a sheriff who alone survived a bandit raid—circumstances aside, he could not keep his post.
There was no telling whether the priest might, in his effort to pacify public sentiment, permit or even orchestrate a witch trial.
So they had concealed the Monster Circus Troupe's involvement.
Fortunately—or rather, horrifically—everyone who had been in the church was dead. The bell ringer was simple-minded, and he hadn't been present when Wonderstein's identity was exposed, so they had easily fed him the story that the male monk was dead.
Ivanenko coordinated his story with the other two before climbing up to the church.
"Sir Ivanenko, I understand you've been in charge of security here since the plague's early days."
"That is so..."
"Have you ever heard the name 'Black Magician'?"
"I think I may have read it in a newspaper once..."
Vayer briefly summarized the Circus Grand Prix terrorist attack and the suspect who had been identified as its perpetrator. He added that they were tracking him.
"I fail to see what that has to do with this affair."
"We've obtained a sketch of the Black Magician. He may be the one who orchestrated what happened here."
Valentina produced the picture from inside her habit.
As Ivanenko studied it, his expression hardened.
"This is...?"
Vayer's eyes lit up.
The reaction was unmistakably that of a man who knew something.
The knight's hands trembled as he stared at the sketch and swallowed dryly.
The figure was the strangest he had ever seen, but he recognized three of its features at once.
The spider legs extending from behind the back, each tipped with a blade.
The bone spear shooting out from an outstretched arm.
And between the split palm, teeth and a long, protruding tongue.
Those were exactly the traits Wonderstein had displayed while fighting Zakanuba in the meeting hall.
He had drawn his blades and slashed the monster, fired that spear and pierced it, and bitten into it with his hand.
The Black Magician who attacked the Circus Grand Prix.
The originator of the Curse Plague.
The creator of the flesh-mass monster.
The head of the Monster Circus Troupe.
Ivanenko's head grew hot.
It couldn't be...
"Do you know something?"
Vayer spoke cautiously, studying the color that had drained from Ivanenko's face.
"Ah..."
Ivanenko averted his eyes, his hand still trembling.
What should he do?
Should he be honest about his suspicions?
He looked at the sketch again.
Wonderstein's image overlaid itself upon it.
At the same time, the Wonderstein he had seen with his own eyes surfaced in his mind.
The one who had healed the sick through his own pain.
The one who had forgiven even the woman who attacked him.
The one who had stepped forward to protect people and fought the monsters.
The one who had saved his life from the demon.
The one who had writhed on the floor, drenched in blood.
Ivanenko steadied his breathing and answered in a calm voice.
"It bears some resemblance to the flesh-mass monster that appeared at the church."
At his reply, Vayer slumped slightly.
Come to think of it, the knight had been present when that creature attacked the church.
It was hardly strange that he would recognize the Black Magician's physical traits.
Watching Valentina tuck the sketch away again, Vayer asked another question.
"Then have you had any reports of suspicious individuals? Anything that might connect to the Black Magician?"
This was an official inquiry.
Casting aside personal feelings, Ivanenko answered with a knight's conviction and conscience.
"No. I have heard nothing of the sort."
It was the truth. He had never received such a report.
He had only seen it himself.
That was all they could glean from this place.
Vayer and Valentina bade him farewell and left the village.
The two passed the scene of the previous day's fierce battle.
Vayer surveyed the lingering traces and clicked his tongue.
The Reaper had been a chillingly powerful demon.
And what kind of man was this Wonderstein, who had defeated it alone?
Valentina's observation was certain: he used the power of Kirkeus.
If it had been any other Demon God, he might have doubted it, but given yesterday's performance, it made sense.
Of all the blessings a Demon God could bestow, Kirkeus's Inspira was the most unpredictable.
Chaos, in a word.
Its nature demanded public display before large audiences, which only made people lower their guard.
"Just hypothetically, what if this Wonderstein..."
Vayer cautiously began to speculate, but clammed up when Valentina shot him a sharp look.
"He arrived here days after the Curse Plague began to spread!"
"Still, isn't it suspicious? That he, of all people, can treat Devolut..."
"Did you not see the members of his circus? It is far more likely that while searching for a way to cure them, he discovered how to apply his power to healing!"
"Even so, the moment he appears, an incident breaks out..."
"I have been at Wonderstein's side this entire time! He has focused on nothing but treating the people! I might be a fool, but I would have noticed if he had done anything! Unless you think he can perform a rite with a few flicks of his fingers into thin air!"
Vayer let out a small snort of laughter at the sight of her fuming.
"So, you're quite taken with him, are you?"
"Ah! W-what are you talking about?! I am merely stating the facts! There is not the slightest personal feeling involved!"
"All right, all right..."
Vayer let the matter drop in agreement.
After all, if there were a way to commune with a Demon God that conveniently, he wouldn't have to go through such tedious rites himself every full moon.
And that went double for a follower of Kirkeus.
They were normally loud and flamboyant.
"That aside... I'm worried about whether the Troupe Leader and that girl who's his deputy are all right."
Valentina glanced toward the coastal road, her voice tinged with regret.
They had not been able to properly tend to the wounded pair.
Since they were Madosa, Holy Needles couldn't simply be stuck into them, so they'd had to make do with field medical supplies.
"We have places to be."
"I know..."
Watching her gloom, Vayer shook his head as if there was nothing to be done.
"After we stop by the next location, if we have time, we'll go see them. I'm curious myself what became of the man who took a direct hit from my Authority."
"Ah, understood! Heh-heh, has anyone told you? Your personality seems to have changed for the better!"
The Vayer of yesterday would have grabbed a subordinate who gave such a cheeky answer by the cheeks and browbeaten her.
But having overused his Authority the day before, his personality had undergone a considerable inversion.
He could feel the change in himself from the moment he had returned to the village—changing into fresh clothes, getting a haircut, shaving.
Using his Authority against the Reaper's Scythe hadn't felt this severe a side effect at first...
The real culprit must have been recklessly forcing his power at the very end.
"Just how inverted am I...?"
Vayer briefly gazed in the direction the Monster Circus Troupe had departed, then followed after Valentina, who was bouncing up and down urging him to hurry to their next destination.