You, a Heretic? (1)
Divine punishment. The wrath of heaven itself.
What is it, truly? It is the retribution visited upon the wicked — or upon those who defy the natural order of the heavens. Heaven itself sits in judgment over those who deserve to be judged.
In that moment, human will means nothing. The web of interests surrounding the condemned — power, wealth, strength — all of it becomes meaningless. Heaven alone delivers the verdict.
This one is wicked, it declares, and so the sentence falls.
Punishing the wicked? Fine. Wonderful, even. An unimpeachable, perfectly just judgment from on high. But when the one being judged happens to be one of yours... that changes everything.
"...S-say that again. Who just received what in the Holy City?"
Caesar made no move to pick up the fountain pen that had rolled from his fingers. His voice trembled, thin and frayed.
The messenger, caked black with sweat and dust, bowed his head deeply, as if ashamed to even be standing there.
"In the Holy City, Count Stultus... received divine punishment, Your Majesty. Lightning fell from the heavens and struck him down. Everyone present in the Holy City witnessed it."
"Everyone...? You're telling me that throng of people in the Holy City all saw a divine punishment?"
"...Yes, Your Majesty."
"Ha!"
A hollow laugh burst from Caesar's lips. At the sound of the Emperor's empty mirth, the messenger bowed even lower.
"Ha... haha!"
Caesar let out another weak, breathless laugh. The messenger looked as though he were sitting on a bed of nails, unable to hide his unease. His only crime was delivering unfortunate news, yet he still feared the sparks might fly his way.
"You've done well. You may go."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
The Chancellor, taking pity on the man, dismissed the messenger. Caesar rubbed his temples and let out a long groan.
"Hoo... Chancellor."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"No matter how thoroughly we cut off the tail... the Inquisitors will still come for us as subjects of the Empire, won't they? No — they will come. Divine punishment has fallen. They will come without fail."
"...Indeed."
"Then... hoo — what can we do with our own hands for now? We need to show some kind of good faith, or they'll brand us heretics..."
"Hmm. What if we compiled the ledgers of Count Stultus's embezzlement and corruption and handed them over to the Inquisitors? If we emphasize just how thoroughly rotten and filthy a villain Stultus was, the Inquisitors should be satisfied."
"Yes, that sounds good. Let's put together materials on that pig's graft and corruption. Frame it so that he was so thoroughly deserving of death that the gods themselves struck him down."
"Your Majesty, then perhaps we should also include—"
"That would be fine as well, but keep it on a track that has nothing to do with the Empire—"
Caesar and the Chancellor conferred for a long while. The rotting pig had managed to splash filth even in his final, dying moment — but because Stultus, struck down by divine punishment, had been a wicked man, and because the Emperor and Chancellor had nothing to do with it...
Because they believed the reason for the divine punishment was simply that Stultus had been wicked enough to enrage the heavens. Because they did not know he had contracted with a demon...
They were able to discuss what came next.
But the Holy City was thinking something entirely different about that divine punishment.
BANG—!!
"The gods themselves delivered the punishment!! This is absolutely not something we can brush aside!! And for the gods to unleash their wrath right before a sacred rite of such significance!!"
A burly Great Priest, his face flushed crimson, poured out a torrent of impassioned words. The other Great Priests seated around the table nodded in agreement.
"And a demon worshipper, no less!! In the sacred Holy City — in the Pantheon where the gods themselves reside!!! A vile demon worshipper defiled the temple with his filthy feet!! How could anything be more blasphemous!!!"
BANG—!!
Unable to contain his fury, the Great Priest slammed his fist down on the table again and again, spittle flying as he roared.
"The Six Gods are enraged!! This is our failure — we must atone!! And that atonement must come through the Empire that sent us a demon worshipper!!! We must hold the Emperor who dispatched a demon worshipper to the Holy City strictly accountable!!!"
Had Caesar heard those words, he would have frothed at the mouth and collapsed on the spot. But in the eyes of the other Great Priests around the table, a faint — no, a distinct — gleam of fanaticism was shining.
"Demon worshippers are like mold — the Empire is surely riddled with the touch of demons in every corner!! And we are the earthly agents of the Six Gods!! We must deal with this with the utmost severity!!!"
"Agreed!! He is a heretic judged by the gods themselves — a villain!! We must send Inquisitors to uncover every last one of his evil deeds!!"
Another Great Priest shot to his feet in agreement. Voices of assent rang out from every side.
"The Pantheon must conduct a rigorous investigation into this matter!! And if necessary, we must not shy away even from declaring the Emperor a heretic!!"
"Agreed!!"
"It shall be as the Six Gods will!!"
Words that would have left Caesar so outraged he'd have clutched the back of his neck and keeled over, had he been present.
Creeeak—
The heavy doors of the council chamber swung open, and Antonio entered. In his hands he carried papers covered in dense writing. He wiped away beads of sweat, breathing lightly — he had clearly come in a hurry.
Behind him, a young man followed. A somewhat vacant-looking fellow carrying an enormous shield, he fidgeted and glanced around the room.
"Ah, hoo — good, you're all here. What a relief."
"Great Priest Antonio, you are quite late."
"I was just about to urgently inform you all of a matter concerning the Empire."
"The Empire...?"
Antonio crossed the grand council chamber and rapidly laid out the facts: the abilities of the demon worshipper Stultus, the Demon Plague and its consequences, and the countless people of the Empire already infected by it.
"That..."
The expressions around the table darkened in an instant. If those words were true, then right now the Empire was crawling with demonic beasts hiding in human form. There was no time to waste dithering.
"Antonio, who else knows of this?"
"Only those of you in this room, and the Apostles. If this became public knowledge, it would cause enormous chaos."
Suddenly, a portly Great Priest pointed at the young man standing behind him.
"But Great Priest Antonio — the young man behind you is...?"
The vacant-looking youth opened his mouth.
"Ahem... I-I'm Iscal. Uh — just a short while ago, the gods... gave me this shield."
Iscal lifted the enormous shield strapped to his back. The massive, door-sized shield gleamed with a soft steel light, so thick and heavy it looked like a castle gate. Intricate, mysterious patterns were elaborately etched across its face.
"Oh. Indeed — an extraordinary aura radiates from that shield."
The Great Priest nodded as he felt the holy power emanating from it. An artifact of that caliber could only mean the young man was an Apostle chosen by the gods.
"When the gods gave me this shield, they spoke to me."
Iscal ran a hand over the shield as he spoke. At the mention of the gods speaking directly, the air in the grand council chamber grew feverishly charged, ready to burst.
"Oh, ooooh!! Indeed!!! What — what did they say!!"
"Y-yes?!"
Antonio beside him seized Iscal's arm, eyes blazing with a force no one would expect from an old man. The flustered Iscal stammered on.
"Th-they said... You shall deliver my wrath. For I am rightfully enraged — deliver this."
"Aaaah—!!!"
At Iscal's words, the Great Priests all prostrated themselves as one and began reciting prayers. What did those words mean? The gods were enraged!
The gods were furious at the demon worshippers — and furious at them!
As servants, they had failed to catch the vermin that had entered the house, forcing the master himself to step forward and crush the bug. How could they dare lift their heads?
"Oh, ooooh... we servants have failed in our duty. We must atone and repent!"
"We must atone!!"
Antonio pounded his forehead against the floor again and again, tears streaming down his face. Iscal, horrified, spent a long time trying to stop him before the self-harm finally ceased.
When Antonio raised his head, blood was trickling down from his scalp.
His eyes, glistening with blood, shone with the light of a madman.
"...We must send Inquisitors to the Empire. And furthermore! The Apostles have said they will go to the Empire as well."
"Antonio, why the Apostles...? Would it not be better to mobilize the Holy Knights?"
"If the Holy Knights move, their movements cannot be concealed. The moment a large-scale deployment is discovered, the demons in hiding will surely begin to rampage. Then innocent civilians will inevitably shed blood."
The good and blameless people are without sin—
Antonio's words echoed through the grand council chamber for a long time. The Great Priests nodded. Protect the good and the innocent, and punish the wicked. That was the will of the gods.
"Very well, then. As for the Inquisitors to be sent to the Empire—"
And so, within the Pantheon, conversations that Caesar knew nothing about continued to unfold.
"...It's noisy outside."
Hans the adventurer, lying in a ward of the Pantheon, muttered toward the bed beside him.
"...Yeah."
Cale answered from the neighboring bed. Both of them, still bedridden and undergoing rehabilitation after being trapped in ice for so long, stared blankly out the window.
"There was lightning outside earlier... I wonder what that was about."
"...Who knows."
"It's so quiet in here."
"Yeah..."
And so the quiet hours of the ward drifted gently by.
Shaaaa—
Pleasantly warm water cascaded over my entire body. A shower first thing after waking up was pure bliss — absolute ecstasy.
"Hoo—"
I towel-dried my wet hair and looked in the mirror. Damn, look at that body.
"Check out these six-pack abs."
I flexed — hup! — and the six-pack stood out in sharp definition. I'd only started working out recently, and already my body was looking this good. My trainer had even given me the side-eye, half-suspecting I was on roids.
"This body is a work of art."
The cleanly divided muscles filled me with pride. I struck pose after pose, putting on a private muscle show for an audience of one.
"Looking handsome, not gonna lie."
Maybe it was the sweat, but my skin looked better too. I idly stroked my jaw, finding my best angle.
"Ah, crap. I'm gonna be late."
I hurriedly dried off and got dressed. The commute to the office was, as always, a path I had zero desire to walk. I dragged my heavy feet along.
"Excuse me — sorry to bother you, but could I ask for directions?"
"Oh, sure."
"I don't know how to get to OO Department Store..."
"Just keep going straight this way, then turn right."
"Ah, thank you!"
I gave her the directions and tried to hurry on, but she called out to me again from behind.
"Um, I'm really sorry, but... do you happen to have a religion?"
Wrong person. I picked up my pace, eyes locked straight ahead.
"Nope. I don't believe in gods. No money, no religion."
"It's just that your energy is so pure. We're not a cult—"
"No. I don't have a religion."
The woman clung to me like a leech for quite a while before finally peeling off near the company building.
"Hoo — starting the morning with this kind of bad luck."
I grumbled, fussing with my hair for no reason. What? Gods? Pure energy?
Please.
As if gods actually existed in this world.