The Final Trial (4)
Fwoosh.
The starlight flowing over her hands flickered once and vanished. Kenis gazed at her mother, who was laughing with pure delight as she wreathed her own hands in that same light.
A soft, endless current of glittering starlight.
It seemed to hint at some truth Kenis still did not know. Something surrounded her—something she had never been told.
Why she and her mother could command starlight. What power it held, and what dangers. Why Demonic had never spoken of her mother at all.
Nothing but riddles…
If she unraveled them one by one, she would eventually reach the truth. Kenis clenched and unclenched her fist, her expression hardening with resolve. Suddenly Demonic’s words about “Ria’s mother” rose in her mind.
My mother could use starlight… and her mother—my grandmother—could as well?
Then it was fair to assume that only those who met certain conditions could wield it. Kenis herself had received the blessing of the stars and been filled with starlight afterward. Ria and her grandmother were bound by blood, and Kenis was Ria’s daughter.
…Bloodline? No. That can’t be right—I never had any starlight of my own before.
Was it a power that awakened? Or something inherited? Countless possibilities branched and spread through her mind.
Pssshhh—
Kenis’s slightly overloaded head seemed to vent steam. She leaned back against the chair.
With so little information, the number of guesses she could make was endless.
I’ll have to dig deeper.
She lay there staring blankly, sinking into thought.
Starlight. The trial. Her mother and Demonic…
What would she gain from this trial, and how would she grow?
…It’ll work out somehow.
The moment she decided to take it easy, her head cleared. Kenis sat bolt upright.
Sitting still would accomplish nothing. First she would reveal to Demonic and Ria that she was their daughter, then listen carefully to everything they had to say.
Thud. Thud.
Steady footsteps carried her across the solid wooden floorboards toward Demonic and Ria—
Ssshhk.
“Huh?”
The ground beneath her feet suddenly felt empty. In the same instant she plummeted into a bottomless abyss. A hole had opened without warning and swallowed her whole.
“Aaaaaaah—!!”
Her scream was dragged down into the endless freefall with her. No one noticed her disappearance.
“Hm?”
“Ria, what is it?”
“Nothing. Just now… didn’t someone scream over there?”
“A scream? I didn’t hear anything. Maybe you imagined it?”
“Maybe…”
Only Ria kept staring at the spot where Kenis had been, tilting her head in puzzlement.
Thud—!
Kenis hit the ground hard, clutching her stinging backside with a groan.
What on earth had just happened?
“Ow, oww… that hurts.”
She had no idea how far she had fallen, but the sensation of a long drop was unmistakable. To walk away with nothing worse than a bruised rear after falling that long was anything but ordinary.
Most likely the gods themselves had guided her here. And if this was some demonic trick, she would simply introduce the culprit to the sharp edge of her holy sword.
She rubbed her tingling backside, then pushed herself upright and surveyed her surroundings. Figuring out where she was came first.
“This is the Pantheon…”
The pure white interior, the distinctive antique furnishings, the portraits of saints hanging along one wall—there was no mistaking it.
Had she returned to the present?
No. This is still the past.
Kenis was certain, and her reasoning was solid.
They said the Pantheon once carried out a major restoration of the saints’ portraits. Every portrait I’ve ever seen looked nearly brand-new… but these…
They were worn and frayed in places, thick with the marks of age.
That meant the restoration had not yet taken place. Therefore she was still in the past—no doubt about it.
Gulp.
Her eyes slowly drifted toward the portraits. How many times had she regretted never seeing the originals?
If she missed this chance, she might never see them again.
Just a tiny peek won’t hurt, right?
Kenis found herself completely captivated by the original portraits.
Whoa, whoa—so this is what Sir Usurius’s original portrait looks like. Look at those eyes, that color! Oh my gods, that’s Sister Sweets Vanelopi! She looks nothing like the restored version! Holy— this is Saintess Kenelm’s original portrait? By the Six Gods! I never thought I’d see this with my own eyes!
She lost all track of time wandering the corridor, drinking in every portrait.
Clatter-clatter-clatter—!
Footsteps pounded around the corner. A group of people rushed past in a frantic hurry.
At their head was a face Kenis knew well.
Great Priest Antonio?
He looked a little younger and more vigorous than the Antonio in her memories. The white in his hair, however, told her this was not a very distant past.
“Hurry! Faster!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Where is the midwife?! She’s coming, isn’t she? Prepare hot water and clean cloths!”
“The midwife just set out! Water and cloths will be ready at once!”
“Ugh… by the Five Gods! Send the paladins to fetch the midwife this instant! We’re out of time! How long has labor been going on and we’re still in this state?!”
“I-I’m sorry!”
“Move! Quickly! I’ll go ahead!”
Antonio’s face was flushed crimson as he barked orders. It was not anger—he was simply flustered beyond measure. The way he kept mopping sweat with his handkerchief showed just how tense he was.
Midwife? Labor? Who’s being born?
Who could be important enough that even Great Priest Antonio himself was personally directing the chaos? Suspecting the uproar might be connected to her trial, Kenis carefully followed him.
Aaaah—! Kyaaaaah—!
A woman’s agonized screams echoed from somewhere ahead. The closer she stayed to Antonio, the louder they grew.
Kenis’s expression gradually hardened. Where exactly was he heading?
“Aaaah!! Ghhhk!! Aughhh!!”
Antonio arrived at the door from which the screams poured. He wiped his sweat once more, steadied his breathing, and knocked with a resolute face.
Knock. Knock.
“It’s Antonio. May I come in?”
“Ghhhk—!! G-ghh… hhh…”
“Great Priest! Please, come in at once!”
The door flew open in a rush, offering a brief glimpse of the room beyond.
Ria lying on the bed. Demonic holding the door. People rushing about inside.
And—
Ria’s hugely swollen belly. The belly of a woman in labor.
In other words…
Th-this is the moment I was born?
It was the instant of Kenis’s birth.
Thwack—! Thwack—!
I slapped the blacked-out phone screen with my palm. People used to say you fix machines by hitting them, but this was too modern for that old wisdom to work.
A tragedy born of technological progress.
“Ugh, seriously.”
The phone had been dead since last night. Thankfully the game itself still ran fine. Only when I opened the Coliseum UI did the screen go completely black.
Whether it was a bug or an app error, I had no way to tell, and the frustration was killing me.
The game even had an official café, but it was so neglected that the question post I’d written ages ago was still the most recent one. Posting there wouldn’t fix anything.
Is the game about to shut down or something? Why is this happening…
I trudged home along the dark road. I needed to check how Kenis’s trial was going—and if it was already over, how it had ended. With the game like this, I couldn’t do a thing.
“Ugh, seriously.”
Thwack!
I kicked a roadside stone just to vent. Things had been quiet for a while, only for a massive bug to explode right at the end.
Clatter-clatter.
I watched the stone roll away without thinking, and a peculiar flyer caught my eye.
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“What the hell is this…?”
A shaman’s flyer. Rainbow background, red calligraphy font, and for some reason a Bonobono character declaring, “This is truly amazing!”
I had no idea if she was any good, but I definitely didn’t feel like going.
I started to walk past—then stopped. The line at the bottom snagged my attention.
“…Consultations are free? Shamans do counseling too?”
I hesitated. Lately I’d been getting chills and the feeling of being watched more often. I’d even been thinking about visiting a church. If it was free, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go and just see.
I followed the little map drawn on the flyer. It wasn’t far—close enough to count as a short walk.
Thud. Thud.
After a while the shaman’s house came into view. Tall poles flew white and red cloths that snapped in the wind.
“Hmm…”
Standing right in front of it, I suddenly felt reluctant. The atmosphere made it hard to just walk in.
I hovered at the gate, fretting.
What if I go in and they just fleece me for money somehow?
Coming alone made me a little nervous. Better to come back another day.
I decided to leave the shaman’s house for later and turned to go—
Crash—!
“Sangje-nim!!”
“Whoa—!”
The shaman burst through the gate at a full sprint. She must have been in such a hurry that she’d crossed the courtyard in bare socks.
“Sangje-nim, Sangje-niiim!! What brings Your Eminence to this humble one?! Oh my, Sangje-niiim!!”
Without the slightest hesitation she dropped to her knees in the middle of the street and began kowtowing, shouting “Sangje-nim” over and over.
“W-wait! Hold on a second! Just get up first and then talk! Please stand up!”
“Sangje-niiim! That this lowly one should meet Sangje-nim while still alive—ohhh! The glory of a lifetime!”
No matter how desperately I tried to stop her, the shaman kept bowing and crying out the title. Passersby started staring and whispering among themselves.
“Sangje-nim? What’s that supposed to mean? Are they filming something?”
“No idea. Heh. It’s funny though—let’s record it.”
Disaster.
“P-please just get up! I get it already, so stand up!”
“Yes, Sangje-nim! Though my house is humble, please allow me to invite you inside!!”
And so I followed the shaman through the gate.