The Final Trial (2)
There exist certain immutable truths in this world.
When the sun rises, day begins. That is an utterly obvious fact. When flowers wither, fruit follows; when snow falls, the air turns cold.
Things we recognize and accept without anyone needing to explain them.
If such things were suddenly shattered right before your eyes—
If you woke one morning to find the moon hanging in the sky instead of the sun—
What would you feel?
"W-what…"
Right now, Kenis was witnessing things she could not believe.
An enormous shock. A sense of dissonance so profound it felt as if part of the world itself were crumbling.
This place was subtly different from the Holy City she knew.
Finding Demonic among the crowds had been fine enough…
But there was a woman beside him.
"A woman… next to the Paladin…?"
She was so stunned that the old form of address slipped out.
It was impossible. Kenis’s pupils trembled violently.
The Demonic she knew had no women in his life—not even male friends.
She felt it at once.
That was not the real Demonic. Something like an illusion was deceiving her eyes.
It had to be connected to her trial.
Swoosh. Swish-swish.
She slipped through the crowd and street decorations, secretly trailing the pair. One hand stayed ready to draw her sword at any moment.
Carefully closing the distance, she eavesdropped on the conversation between the fake Demonic and the woman.
The impostor wearing Demonic’s face stroked the red-haired woman’s locks and spoke.
"My little rose. Where shall we go now?"
"Mmm. I—"
"Ghk!"
Cough.
Kenis, listening in secret, choked so hard she coughed loudly. It was as if she had heard the trumpet announcing the end of the world.
What? What did he just say?
L-l-l-little rose? Roseee?
What was that unbearably greasy nickname? That tender way he stroked her hair, those eyes dripping with honey!
Her hands began to shake; she felt the color drain from her face.
If this was a mental assault using illusions, it had succeeded spectacularly.
G-God… is this truly my trial?
The actions of the fake wearing her birth father’s face threw Kenis into utter confusion.
The Demonic in her memories never behaved like that!
No—he couldn’t!
What kind of trial was this supposed to be?
Kenis clutched her head and sank into profound chaos, her expression that of a cat that had peered into the Abyss.
"Hmm?"
Oh no!
Disaster.
The fake Demonic, having heard the cough, looked suspiciously in the direction where Kenis was hiding.
She flung herself into a nearby bush and held her breath, crouching low and erasing every trace of presence.
"What’s wrong, Nick?"
"Nothing. I thought someone was watching us from behind."
"Behind? Hmm… there’s no one there?"
"…Must have been my imagination."
The fake Demonic came right up to the bush where Kenis hid, glanced around a little, then turned back.
Kenis, who felt she had aged ten years, finally released the breath she had been holding.
Hoo—
The fake Demonic returned to the woman. The two linked arms affectionately and walked the main street, engaging in the sort of playful teasing lovers do.
Intertwining their fingers, twirling each other’s hair around a finger—
Silly little acts, yet thick with affection.
"Oh, come on! Nick! I told you not to—my hair gets tangled!"
"Don’t worry, my rose. You’re beautiful even with tangled hair."
"No. That’s not what I mean!"
Thud—!
Kenis fell into even deeper confusion. She rubbed her eyes and looked again, but it was still Demonic.
That silver hair, those silver eyes, the characteristic blunt set of his features.
He looked younger than the face she knew, yet there was no doubt it was Demonic.
What on earth is this… could it be?
An assumption struck like lightning.
The challenger just before her, Lionheart, had undergone a trial that returned him to the past.
Then—
Had she also returned to the past? To a time when Demonic was very young, when her mother was still alive?
It was a reasonable guess.
The owner of her usual restaurant having changed, the menu she always ordered no longer existing, the streets of the Holy City being subtly different in places—
If she had come to the past, it all made sense.
That person is my mother?
The one linking arms with Demonic, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears, stealing kisses while avoiding other people’s eyes?
"U-umm…"
She had always thought that someday she would like to learn more about her mother in detail, but she had never wanted to learn about her parents’ romance like this.
I should follow them for now, at least.
She did not particularly want to watch her parents’ love story, yet there was so much she was curious about regarding her mother.
Demonic had always been especially reluctant to speak of her.
This might be her chance to find out for herself.
Swoosh. Swish-swish-swish.
Demonic and her mother left the main street and turned into an alley. Kenis moved nimbly after them, slipping into the same alley.
The Demonic she knew would have noticed a tail immediately, but whether his skills had not yet matured or something else, he showed no sign of detecting her at all.
"Nick. What are we going to eat when we get there?"
"Eating there is the same every day. Just like you’re beautiful every day."
"Ugh. I told you not to say things like that."
…Or he might simply be too distracted by flirting.
The couple wound through the twisting alleys with familiar ease. Following behind them, Kenis realized the path felt somehow familiar.
Jingle~
The door of a restaurant tucked in the alley opened with a cheerful bell. Demonic and Kenis’s mother entered as if they had been there many times before.
"This place…"
The sign bore a picture of meat.
It was the very shop Ruel had once visited with Kenis on Demonic’s recommendation.
Fwaaaash—!
Kenis’s trial began with a dazzling light. It was so intense that everyone in the arena had to shield their eyes—as if the sun itself had descended to earth.
After a short while the light faded, revealing Kenis lying quietly in the center of the arena.
Her face was peaceful, as if she were simply asleep. Demonic could not hide his anxious expression and fretted restlessly.
Unable to watch any longer, Antonio spoke to him.
"Paladin Demonic. Why are you so anxious? Are you that worried?"
"Forgive me, Great Priest. Worried… yes, I am worried. The trials of the previous challengers were all like something out of myth."
"Indeed, as you say. Dragons and giants, the hell of the labyrinth and the spirits of the past… all things that will remain in history forever."
"If the Apostles’ trials were of that caliber… how harsh a trial the Sixth God will give the Hero—Kenis… that worries me beyond measure."
Demonic’s face was that of a father fretting over his daughter. A man so stern and blunt became a complete softy the moment his daughter was mentioned.
Antonio laughed heartily and tried to reassure him.
"Haha! Don’t worry. The Hero is far stronger than you fear. She is someone who can firmly overcome any trial that comes her way."
"…Is that so?"
"Of course! Remember that God always gives trials that can be overcome. The Hero will surely prevail."
"…Yes. Truly so."
Hearing Antonio’s words, Demonic looked at Kenis with a somewhat calmer expression.
Antonio was right. God always prepared trials that could be overcome; with a steadfast heart, she would not break.
Hang in there, Kenis.
He sent a short cheer toward her in his heart. May God protect her.
Fwaaaash—!
The giant mirror floating in the air above the arena shone and began to display a scene—just as it had for the previous challengers.
Now the mirror would show the trial Kenis was undergoing.
Gulp.
Demonic swallowed dryly and focused on the mirror. What kind of trial was she facing?
A wicked, terrible monster? Or a cruel, cunning demon? Or perhaps a labyrinth full of traps?
Flash!
The spectators stirred at the scene in the mirror.
"That’s…"
"The Holy City? It is the Holy City, right? Looks like the intersection in front of the Pantheon here."
"Yeah, it’s the Holy City."
"Is the trial related to the Holy City?"
The mirror was showing the scenery of the Holy City—white buildings characteristic of the place, the emblem of the Pantheon decorating every corner.
"What is that…?"
"Hehe. What trial is God intending to give the Hero?"
Antonio stroked his beard and concentrated even harder on the mirror. Demonic’s eyes widened as he stared at the scene within.
All he could do was cheer and pray, yet he hoped even that might be of some small help to Kenis. He even wrapped holy power around his eyes so he would not miss the slightest detail.
Startle!
That!
Scanning every corner of the Holy City in the mirror, Demonic gave a light shudder. The Holy City it showed had subtle differences from the present.
The time was different.
The Holy City in the mirror was of the past.
Kenis was currently in the Holy City of the past.
"Great Priest, that’s the past…!"
"I just realized it myself. It’s definitely old times, though I can’t say exactly how many years ago."
Antonio, having also grasped that it was the past, narrowed his eyes at the mirror.
Why had God sent Kenis to the past? Was there something He wished to teach her?
The giant mirror shifted its view, following Kenis as she moved. Familiar main streets, tree-lined avenues, the restaurant at the intersection—
Places that still carried the traces of time. Landscapes that had since changed.
— "Dad…"
"Hmm?"
And then—
The mirror showed a familiar head of hair.
A man with cold silver locks.
Demonic.
He had appeared in Kenis’s trial. Precisely, the Demonic of the past.
"Huh?! Wait. Wait a moment… Am I—am I appearing there right now?"
"Uh… hmm. Hmm… It does seem to be you… Why are you appearing there?"
"I’d like to know that myself! What on earth is that…"
A bad premonition brushed past him. An ominous feeling sticky as wet mud. Instinct screamed at him to leave this place at once, yet he could not understand why.
The mirror moved slowly, revealing the figure beside the Demonic within it. Familiar red hair.
Demonic’s pupils gradually widened. His entire field of vision filled with crimson.
Swaying locks, that slight unique curl, the passionate red hair.
How could he forget? How dare he ever forget you?
Clench.
Unconsciously he gripped the locket hanging around his neck. He had never forgotten her for even a single moment.
He could not forget.
Demonic stared blankly at the woman in the mirror. Antonio looked at him with concern.
"You… uh. Are you all right?"
"…I’m fine. To be able to see her face again after so long, even like this… truly a blessing."
"Yes. If you say so, I’m relieved."
Demonic gazed at the mirror, lost in reminiscence. It had been a truly hot, passionate love. The Demonic of the past had roamed the entire Holy City with her, sharing that burning love…
Wait a minute.
If this mirror was showing the past, didn’t that mean the words the past Demonic had spoken would come out exactly as they were?
Something began crawling up from the tips of his toes. Its name was misfortune.
No. It couldn’t be. It must not be. Please.
Demonic prayed as he stared at the mirror. Please, let it not be so.
Then the Demonic in the mirror slowly opened his mouth and spoke.
— "My little rose. Where shall we go now?"
"Uwaaaaaaah!"
Demonic launched himself toward the mirror, swinging his sword.
This had to be a dream.