Chapter 36 - Sun and Dragon: Deus Ex Machina
In theater stories, deus ex machina refers to a god suddenly appearing to resolve every problem with a single breath before vanishing. And the person who'd just suffered that in real life was named Bilena Nitro.
From the now much more subdued Bilena, I learned all sorts of things. Like how she and Esen were the same age and had been thick as thieves at first.
"But how'd you two end up like natural enemies? Esen's rough around the edges, sure, but she doesn't strike me as the type to fear anyone without reason."
Honestly, unless it was a genius calamity like Nidroga, I couldn't imagine Esen fearing anyone at all.
Bilena grumbled needlessly. "You're the one making it awkward with that half-formal crap. If you're gonna do that, just drop the honorifics."
"Fine, let's do that. So why's Esen scared of you?"
I switched to casual on the spot, and Bilena shot me a glare before hesitating and speaking up.
"...She wouldn't cooperate with my reagent experiments. It's so hard to find a sturdy test subject like Esen. So I slipped a little into her food..."
"...No matter what it was, that's on you, Bilena. What the hell kind of drug was it?"
Bilena's lips twitched in a scary smirk. I shut my mouth, suddenly afraid to ask.
A few more probing questions later, and it clicked. The whole party treated Bilena like a terrifying lunatic because she'd cause accidents and be the only one oblivious to why they were problems.
Fortunately, she seemed to have learned something from this incident. How terrifying, unjust, and infuriating it felt to get blindsided by the logic of a world she couldn't comprehend—like getting hit by a carriage.
"I never knew getting experimented on without consent could feel this unpleasant."
"You had to experience it to figure that out...?"
No wonder she'd been a lifelong singleton. If she expected a boyfriend like that, she'd deserve prison for killing her conscience.
Her empathy was a bit lacking, but Bilena was undeniably competent. If she weren't...
"I'd have been fired ages ago for turning your fur blue."
"Shut it."
Esen's sharp jab made Bilena grumble as she tuned the artifact Grappling Hook like it was her own invention.
My jaw dropped. Sure, it was mine, but I had no clue how to handle an enchanted ancient relic.
"You can repair artifacts too?"
"Artifacts are mysterious, sure, but they're not untouchable like the gods. We can reach them."
"But they're ancient relics, right?"
"Fancy talk about 'ancients'—they were just people who lived a long time ago. Their knowledge is lost to us now, so modern folks struggle to replicate it. But look a little closer..."
Ting.
A tiny gear that had been stuck whirred back to life, and the Grappling Hook's cable shot smoothly toward the ceiling.
It'd been loose at the joints for a few years now—back when I saved Esen from that mountain troll, it was almost too dicey. And she fixed it in just fifteen minutes.
"I can see how it works. It's all man-made in the end."
"Seriously, thank you. I was thinking of selling it if it broke for good."
"...Selling it? Heroes risk their lives for artifacts, and you've got no attachment? Leave anything with me. I'll fix all the stuff you drop off today for free. Need potions? I'll mix 'em without charging for materials."
Bilena fidgeted, twisting her hands behind her back.
"Just... feeling a bit sorry, that's all."
...There'd been that near-castration scare, but overall, this was a huge win.
———
Seems like reclusive loners' limits end at the courtyard. Bilena clung to the doorframe to see us off. Leaving behind that uniquely terrifying experience, the moment we stepped into the alley...
"Confess your sins at once, you wicked heretics."
To my shock, we were surrounded. By people in black robes embroidered with golden suns.
Suns. The symbol of the Mitra Church.
Trauma flashed through me as I saw the Monica sisters pale. Esen and I quickly shoved them behind us.
"Who the hell are you? Calling us heretics?"
"We are the executors of Mitra's will."
A high-ranking figure stepped forward. How'd I know? His robe was embroidered with way more gold thread than the others.
"We sensed a sinister, evil aura nearby. In this City of All Gods, a meeting place of the divine, an uninvited faith without even a single temple."
He lowered his hood, revealing a wrinkled old man's face. A gnarled, pale finger pointed at us.
"Born with the qualities of a Heretic Inquisitor by Mitra's grace, I have the right to interrogate whether that is false faith."
[Heretic Inquisitor]
Trait Holder
A Heretic Inquisitor aptitude holder. And a pretty high-ranking one at that.
But.
"Hold on. You have no right to do that."
"What did you say, young one?"
"We're not Mitra followers. And this city's ruled by Queen Banir. We won't comply."
The old man trembled with rage at my words, raising both hands...
...And the paladins who flipped back their hoods began drawing weapons one by one. Ignoring the screams from onlookers.
Are they insane? In broad daylight?
Two very familiar faces appeared at the old fanatic's sides. Christensen. And Florica.
"...You two paladins are here too, huh. Quicker reunion than I expected."
"It's been a while. Ran. Esen. And... Monica."
Florica managed a haggard greeting. Christensen, meanwhile, just smirked triumphantly.
"That fucking bitch."
Esen snorted, suddenly drawing a dagger from her waist.
"Whoa, hold up. Esen, we can't strike first—"
"You think you have the advantage? Wanna see something cool, assholes?"
Esen stuck the dagger—scabbard and all—into her mouth and started chewing.
I freaked out trying to stop her, but she lightly shoved my shoulder aside.
The paladins, who'd been drawing swords and hammers, froze in confusion. As blade fragments clattered to the ground, shattered.
Esen spat out the remnants with a ptui. Not a scratch, not a drop of blood.
"If you rush me, I'll do the same to yours. Go home and make excuses to your elders. Tell 'em you got wrecked by one girl from a mid-tier party and couldn't help it."
Was Tigress durability that insane? Or was her mouth specially tough?
...Meaning, some part of me had gone in and out of that mouth. Castration risk might've been closer than I thought.
"G-get, g-get, g-get LOST!"
And another one. Bilena stumbled out into the sunlight, panic on her face as she aimed something huge and ominous at the Mitra priests. It looked like a massive instrument, cobbled together from glass vials and pipes—
"Mitra cultists shitting up my front yard now too?! Don't barge into my small, precious sanctuary of reason and rationality, you mystics—!"
Fwoooosh.
—A glass-and-pipe inferno.
A massive flame roared skyward, and only then, in the backlight, did the tiny inscription on the pipe gleam: 'Idiot Purifier'.
If science was a religion and its zealot existed, it'd be Bilena.
"S-Satan! Witch—!"
"D-don't touch my boyfriend—! G-get lost!—!"
...Did I hear that right? When did we get that close?
I held back from asking, lest the flames turn my way. Bilena's manic glare flicked toward me suspiciously.
Bilena roared flames while Esen clapped in delight. The paladins, spooked by the show, hesitated.
Perfect stalling. Our reinforcements had arrived.
"Enough! ENOUUUGH!"
A man with an impressive beard—Banir's genuine hero, Bourden—his voice boomed.
I nearly collapsed in relief.
"What is this in the City of All Gods?! Do you think this nation's only sects serve Mitra?!"
"I'm merely exercising the divine right bestowed upon me by Mitra!"
The old man pushed back, but his tone suggested he'd already yielded a step.
When prideful Mitra zealots used honorifics on worldly folk, it meant they'd tucked tail.
Panting as he arrived, Bourden glared at the street-drawn weapons.
"Divine right? This is territory ruled by the Lake Goddess and Her Majesty the Queen. All they've granted you outsiders is the right to worship your own gods freely."
"You dare challenge the sun with mortal power?!"
Bourden's party, 'Banir's Lilies,' gripped their sword hilts in unison.
"You're the challengers. Religious disputes can't happen within our borders! Don't you know you'd face backlash from other sects, get booted from the City of All Gods? Think the Mitra Pope would let you off, Bishop?"
"Exactly."
The bishop's eyes gleamed with obsession. Bad vibes.
"It must be a faith without a temple in the City of All Gods. If it were a god housed here, I'd have sensed it with my Inquisitor aptitude! You could've boldly declared, 'We're of such-and-such sect—go fetch our bishop from the nearby temple!' and faced me head-on!"
But we couldn't. The sisters' faith was a tiny sect.
Biting her lip, Monica whispered from behind us.
"...If this escalates, even to blades, you don't need to protect me. I don't want you hurt because of me. The Goddess will shield me—"
"What bullshit is that, sis? Just carry you and run. Right, Tan?"
"You think I'd go 'Yes sir!' and ditch you if you said so, sisters? Don't talk nonsense."
"Still not revealing your sect? They're heretics! Worshipping some barbaric god they can't name!"
Meanwhile, the deranged fanatic frothed like a massive monster.
His spittle-flecked shouts somehow rang convincing.
"A lewd, immoral god they can't proudly declare!"
Spot on. Hope I don't get smited for thinking it—hooked by Ishtar and all.
But yeah, true.
Banir regulars arrived too. I figured it was over.
But the paladins didn't back down. Seriously? Insane?
How'd they plan to clean this up?
Heretic Inquisitor aptitude, sensitive to faith and monster auras. So the bishop must've sensed yesterday's descended Ishtar and tracked it here.
He wouldn't obsess like this over some no-name deity.
Did the lust goddess hold that much meaning for them? Enough to attack us in broad daylight, like they did the sisters' old comrades?
Time to prep for bloody escape. I was about to tell the sisters to climb on my back when...
"Ready to shoulder all the political fallout in Banir?"
A horned forehead emerged high between the standoffing Banir warriors and paladins, footsteps thudding.
Rubbing her hangover-throbbing head, dressed in an oversized shirt with bizarre fashion sense.
Nidroga.
"Can you handle that?"
"Why show up now?"
"Weren't you following earlier?"
"Why so late, Nidroga?"
Esen, me, and Monica asked in dazed sequence. Bilena capped it, dropping her flame-spewer.
"...Is that my shirt? You wore it without asking?"
Nidroga glanced at the highlighter-scribbled shirt and shrugged, answering in order.
"I'm here now, aren't I, Esen? Got held up grabbing another bottle of Bilena's brew. No need to ask, Monica. I showed up anyway. Your shirt's mine too, Bilena—no? I fund your research; this is fair."
Nidroga shrugged again, pointing to her horns.
I worried the Mitra fanatics would scream "demon" and burn her, but nope.
Paladins glanced nervously; the bishop gnashed teeth, raising his palm.
Mitra followers sheathed weapons.
Nidroga smiled leisurely.
"You can feud with the world, but never the Dragon's Nest. You've got that much sense left, servants of the sun god?"