The Final Trial (3)
A sharp whistle cut the air.
Demonic soared across the open sky like a hawk on the hunt — save for the sword clenched in his fist.
"Aaaargh!!"
His scream tore through the arena. Louder still, though, were the words spilling from the Demonic inside the mirror.
He prayed. No — he begged.
Please, O God! Please! Lead me not into temptation!
His desperate wish rose toward the heavens, but the indifferent sky paid no mind to the heart of a mere man.
The Demonic in the mirror kept talking.
"Don't worry, my rose. You're beautiful even with your hair all tangled."
"KRAAAAAAAAGH!!"
Still airborne, Demonic blasted out holy power and kicked off empty space. It all happened so fast that everyone else could only stare, dumbstruck.
Sacred light gathered along his blade, flaring and flickering in violent pulses — proof that his mind was coming apart at the seams.
A ringing clash!
The mirror he struck with his sword remained stubbornly intact. The rebound flung Demonic back through the air instead.
He hit the arena floor with a heavy thud. He had swung with everything he had, reason long gone — blood streamed freely from his hand.
"Nick. What are we having today?"
"Whatever we get there is the same every day. Just like you're beautiful every day."
He coughed hard.
"Ah — aaaaargh!!"
Demonic shoved himself upright, already coiling to leap again. His eyes burned with a single resolve: no matter what, he would stop that mirror.
Lionheart, who had been standing frozen through the sudden chaos, suddenly realized what this was.
A chance to make a comrade.
A fellow sufferer to share the weight of a shameful past!
I am not going through this alone!
He launched himself forward and seized Demonic. With his massive frame and raw strength locking down arms and legs, even Demonic could not break free.
"KRAAAH!! Senior!! Let go of me!! Uuurgh!"
"Hahahaha!! What do you think you're doing to the Mirror of the Gods, you irreverent fool!! Hahahaha! Stay still!"
"I — I have to stop that mirror!! Aaaaargh!!"
"Hahaha! Not a chance, Demonic! Be a good boy and become my comrade!"
Lionheart's laughter rang out, but a quiet madness flickered in his eyes — the look of a man who had already lost everything and had nothing left to lose. It was that uniquely human, twisted brand of altruism: You have to end up just like me. I refuse to be the only one who suffers.
"I am not taking this alone! Hahahahaha! Isn't that right? Hmm? 'Paladin of the Rose, Demonic'? Hmm?"
"Senior!!"
"Hahaha! You two-faced little Demonic! Always so quiet and cold in front of us — and behind closed doors you were that sickeningly sweet! Hahahaha!!"
"AAAAAAARGH!!"
The two paladins' struggle drew on overwhelming holy power. Pure white sacred force writhed and twisted, each trying to devour the other, and the light that burst free was like the death cry of a star.
What actually rang out, of course, were the death cries of two paladins.
Had their wretched, desperate wind finally reached the merciless sky?
A sharp flash —
The mirror floating serenely in midair was suddenly swallowed by pitch-black darkness.
Something that had never happened once throughout the entire trial. The crowd stirred. Even Demonic, still pinned by Lionheart, could not hide his shock.
He had swung his sword in earnest, yes — but when the scenes pouring from the mirror actually cut off, he was thoroughly rattled.
Because from the outside, it looked exactly as if he had destroyed the mirror.
"Ah — ahem! I had nothing to do with that."
Lionheart stepped back from Demonic and declared his innocence. A swift retreat that showcased the seasoned instincts of a veteran — a man who truly knew when to withdraw.
Demonic felt every gaze in the arena turn on him and broke into a cold sweat.
As reason slowly returned, the full weight of what he had done hit him. He had dared to swing a sword at the Mirror of the Gods! Divine punishment felt moments away from striking him down.
A roar of flame —
The holy torches set along the arena walls blazed up as one, announcing their presence.
To know any more of the Hero's trial is not permitted.
A vast voice filled the arena — a sacred voice speaking through the holy flames.
It declared that knowing Kenis's trial any further would not be allowed.
Antonio bowed his head and thought.
Not permitted… to whom?
To the common folk? Or to the faithful of the Pantheon?
Antonio squeezed his eyes shut and offered a prayer. The gods truly knew all things.
The hidden history bound up with Demonic and his beloved. The painful wound the Pantheon had fought so desperately to bury. By now, only a bare handful among the Great Priests still knew of that past — and yet…
Antonio knew.
He knew it all too well.
…The Sacrifice Ritual.
He would never forget.
A soft chime of a bell.
Kenis carefully pushed open the shop door and stepped inside. The interior was exactly as she remembered it.
Even after coming to the past, the place looked much the same — a testament to the owner's stubbornness.
She slipped quickly into the shop, ducking the proprietor's line of sight; he had his back turned, busy cooking.
Keeping her presence as muted as possible, she settled into a corner seat with a view of young Demonic and her mother. Then she amplified her hearing with holy power and focused entirely on their conversation.
"My little rose. Same thing as always today?"
"No — that nickname is a bit… never mind. I'll have the usual."
"Ah, right. I'll call you properly from now on, Ria."
"Good. I like it so much better that way. What about you? Hurry up and pick, Nick."
"Then I'll order the same."
A slightly younger version of the shopkeeper than Kenis remembered came over and took Demonic's order.
Once they had ordered, the two of them pressed their faces so close their noses nearly touched, pouring love into each other without restraint.
To any outsider, it would have been nothing more than a pair of lovers lost in each other. From the perspective of their daughter Kenis, though, the whole scene felt distinctly strange.
Hmm… so that's my mother?
She peeked out carefully for a stealthy look. The woman Demonic had called Ria — her mother.
Cascading red hair and pale golden eyes.
Those glittering gold irises and that vivid red hair were the spitting image of Kenis herself.
Without thinking, she ran her fingers through her own hair and stared, dazed. The woman's features were far gentler than Kenis's, but she could still tell.
That person… is my mother.
Something clenched tight in her chest. She wanted to run to her right then and there, to declare that she was the daughter who had come from the future.
Things she wanted to ask. Things she wanted to say. Things she wanted to do… there were so many.
But she could not.
This is a trial, Kenis. Get a grip. You haven't actually gone back to the past — this is only showing you the past exactly as it was.
Like the moon reflected on a pond. This was nothing more than an illusion mirroring the past with perfect fidelity. An exquisitely detailed dream.
Sweet, and aching.
The gods had sent her here for the sake of her trial, and she must not forget her purpose.
"Nick, look at this."
A soft shimmer —
Ria pressed her face close to young Demonic, then secretly cupped her hand and wrapped something glittering around it.
Demonic saw it and nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Ria! I told you not to show that outside!"
"So what? Nobody saw. Besides — isn't it pretty?"
"Hide it, now! Even if this is the Holy City, you always have to be careful outside the Pantheon!"
Demonic covered Ria's hand and craned his neck to scan their surroundings. The sharp glint in his eyes was identical to the Demonic in Kenis's memories.
She ducked her head just in time and managed not to be spotted.
A long breath of relief —
Convinced no one had seen, Demonic relaxed a fraction and looked back at Ria. He was thoroughly worked up.
He leaned in close to her face and whispered, terrified someone might overhear.
"How can you just use that out in the open like that! It's dangerous!"
"I'm fine, though…"
"It's not about you — it's dangerous for other people! You still can't control it properly."
"Well… that's true, but…"
A light bonk!
Demonic gave Ria's head a gentle knuckle-rap.
"That power is a blessing, but it's dangerous. Even your mother couldn't handle it properly, you said."
"Yeah, that's right. But for my age, being able to use this much already means I'm really good at it."
A soft glow —
As she spoke, Ria once again wrapped light around her hand. It lasted only a heartbeat — the briefest of instants — but Kenis saw it clearly.
What her mother held in her hand.
That's…!
Radiant, multicolored, glittering Star-light.
Ria had wrapped Star-light around her hand.
That day long ago, when Kenis had received the blessing of the stars in the training grounds — from that moment on, Star-light had settled into her body and begun to flow through her.
She had never been able to control it freely, and between one crisis and the next she had almost forgotten it existed…
But this was unmistakably the same Star-light as Kenis's own.
A soft shimmer —
Carefully, she let Star-light trickle into one hand. Tiny glittering motes of starlight flowed along her fingers.
Following the current of the stars, she could feel something shining.
Pure. Primordial. Flowing without end.
She clenched her fist tight. The Star-light vanished.
Something was hidden in her past.
That both Kenis and her mother Ria could wield Star-light could not be simple coincidence. She had to learn why.