The Black Plague (1)
There is a vast ocean. A sea made of black, dark water.
The endless expanse does not churn with waves, nor does a single breath of wind stir across it.
It is still as death—and precisely because of that stillness, it can become anything.
The first saint, Kenelm, walked across the sand with soft, crunching steps. It was a tiny sandbar of an island, so small that circling the whole of it would take less than half a day.
She gazed out over the ever-silent Sea of Souls and let her thoughts drift for a moment.
There was little one could do in this place.
Her chief duty was to borrow the ocean’s power and stand between the Great One, the Holy Land, and the world below, gently adjusting what each side was allowed to see of the other.
Even that was only occasional work.
The rest of the time she could do little more than watch the Great One or eavesdrop.
And after her last reckless interference, even that had become impossible. All that remained was contemplation.
Nngh…
Kenelm’s brow furrowed at the sharp pain rising from her back. The sin of having irreverently harmed a god’s body. She had scourged herself in penance, yet a great deal of karma still remained.
“I must atone.”
Silently she raised the whip. Her back was a lattice of countless red lines—gouged, torn, split open. Finding any unmarred skin would have been the quicker task.
Just as she lifted the whip high to bring it down again—
A figure caught her eye. Something lying still on the far side of the sand.
The Great One had come.
Kenelm hastily hid the whip and hurried over with quick little steps.
“…Hup!”
Her face flushed scarlet. For some reason the man lay there completely naked, not a scrap of cloth on him.
Kenelm clapped both hands over her eyes and shuffled sideways until she was beside him. Then, carefully parting her fingers just a little, she peeked.
“…You’re sleeping.”
Her god breathed in soft, even rhythms, lost in peaceful slumber. Kenelm slowly sank to her knees at his head.
And simply looked at his face—making a determined effort not to glance any lower than his neck.
Faint shadows of fatigue beneath the eyes, a neat and clear-cut nose and mouth, skin a little dry.
Whatever dream he was having, his brow was furrowed in a scowl. Cold sweat dampened his body. From time to time an unintelligible, scream-like moan escaped him.
“Ah… um…”
Flustered, Kenelm’s hands flailed in empty air. Crushing the skulls of demons or heretics she could do with confidence; soothing someone through a nightmare was another matter entirely.
Then, carefully, slowly—
Her hand moved to the man’s hair. It was dry and a little soft. She gently lifted his head and rested it upon her thigh.
I think I once overheard the nuns gossiping that men like this…
Knowledge gleaned from the chatter of living sisters. Suddenly Kenelm found herself wondering whether offering a god a lap pillow might itself be an act of irreverence—
Even though she was already face-to-face with that god’s naked body.
Regardless of her fretting, the man seemed to find Kenelm’s soft thigh agreeable; he nuzzled his cheek against it and smiled faintly. The pale flesh dimpled elastically wherever his cheek pressed.
“…Does this please you?”
Kenelm smiled gently. This was her god. The great and merciful One.
Please…
“Please have peaceful dreams, my God.”
Kenelm did not move from that spot until the man dissolved into starlight and vanished.
“Mmm… mm…”
I had a dirty dream for the first time in ages. A dream of lying on a red-haired woman’s thigh and nuzzling my face into it. But a dream is only a dream.
I forced my heavy eyelids open and fought free of the bed’s temptation. The warm, soft mattress tried to pull me back, yet work still waited; I could not surrender.
In a foggy haze I switched on my phone and launched the game.
I still had things left to do.
“H-homework… just the homework…”
Just clear ‘Monster Subjugation’ and then I can sleep…
I struggled to move my clumsy hands and finally managed to get them working.
And then—
Ping-pong—!
Monster Subjugation Stage 4 — Boss Raid commencing!
Adventurers who die in the raid cannot be revived!
“Huh? Huh?! What the hell is this right now?!”
I had been so sleepy I accidentally hit the raid button. A warning flashed on the screen as if to emphasize the danger.
“Ah…”
It was like a bucket of cold water. Sleep vanished in an instant.
“Man, this village is tiny.”
“You actually thought there’d be a tavern in a place like this?”
“I figured there’d at least be somewhere that sold booze, even a little one. What’s the point of living in a backwater like this if you can’t even drink?”
The furry Rohan walking beside Hans kept grumbling nonstop. They had been given a short stretch of free time before the imperial army arrived.
Rohan had been looking forward to a long-overdue drink, but unfortunately there was nowhere selling alcohol.
“Haaah.”
Hans shook his head. There was never going to be a place selling liquor in a hole like this to begin with.
Tug. Tug.
“Hm?”
Hans looked down at the sensation of something pulling on his thigh. A scruffy little girl was clutching his pant leg and staring up at him.
“What’s this kid?”
“What, Hans? Is she your daughter?”
“Haaah…”
Ignoring Rohan’s nonsense, Hans crouched so he was eye-level with the girl. Up close her hair was dry and split, sticking out in every direction.
Her stomach kept growling with hunger, and the body that ought to have been soft with baby fat was slightly wasted, bones showing.
Dressed in clothes so old and frayed it was hard to guess how long she had worn them, the girl simply stared fixedly at Hans’s face.
Even a little village like this has kids who are struggling.
Sympathy rose in Hans’s eyes. He rummaged through his pack, pulled out a well-dried strip of jerky, and held it out to the scruffy girl.
“Hungry? Want this?”
“…Got booze.”
She snatched the jerky and gave a completely off-topic answer. At the word “booze,” Rohan’s ears perked straight up.
“What? What did you just say you’ve got?”
“Booze. We sell it at our house.”
“For real? Your house sells booze?”
Rohan eyed her suspiciously. The girl answered without flinching.
“Really. We sell booze at our house. Mom and I make it.”
“Hmm…”
Rohan stroked his chin and stared the girl down, then turned to Hans.
“Hans, what do you think? Wanna check it out?”
“Well, nothing to lose. Let’s go take a look.”
“Great. You hear that, kid? We’re going to your place. I wanna see what kind of booze you’re talking about.”
“…! This way, this way.”
A little spark of excitement lit her face; the girl hopped ahead and led the way. Even barefoot, without shoes, she skipped along with surprising agility.
A small flower bracelet fluttered with every movement of her arm.
“Hey, kid. What’s your name?”
“Daisy. Mom gave it to me.”
“Common enough name.”
Rohan answered.
As Hans and Rohan followed Daisy, they both caught an odd atmosphere.
“Rohan. Over there…”
“I saw it too.”
Villagers had come out and were murmuring while staring at Daisy. Their eyes held clear disgust.
A mixture of loathing, fear, and aversion poured toward the small girl. Daisy paid the sharp gazes no mind and simply kept guiding Hans and Rohan.
“This is our house.”
“Whoa—no joke, if I poked it the whole thing would fall over.”
“Yeah. Daisy, is your father around?”
“I don’t have a dad. Just Mom and me.”
Daisy answered matter-of-factly and pushed open the old, creaking door.
“Mom! We’ve got guests!”
“Daisy, you’re back? Guests?”
“They came to buy booze!”
“Ah. So the two of you are here for liquor. This way—”
A woman who had been lying on a cloth spread across the floor rose with a rustle.
From face to ankles she was wrapped tightly in cloth. A metallic scent of blood hung in the air, and a damp moldy smell rose from the walls.
Sensing something was very wrong, Hans and Rohan exchanged glances.
The woman’s suspicious attire, the coppery blood smell and clammy mold in the air—
And the plague rats nesting all around the place.
After that shared look, Rohan moved first.
“Kyaa!”
“Hup!”
With agile speed Rohan seized the woman’s arm, twisted it, and forced her to the floor. She was subdued with a short scream before she could even resist.
Hans shouted in shock.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?!”
“Wasn’t this the plan?”
“Of course not! Let her go right now!”
“Oh?”
Looking sheepish, Rohan scratched his head and helped the woman up. Daisy’s eyes were round with fright.
“W-what is the meaning of this all of a sudden?! We don’t have any money in this house!”
The woman rose, rubbing her shoulder, and cried out. Hans spread both hands to show he meant no harm and approached slowly.
“Ma’am, I am truly sorry for the suddenness. That idiot made a mistake, but we have no intention of harming you.”
“W-what?! You just grab someone’s arm and twist it first thing, and I’m supposed to believe that?!”
She hid Daisy behind her back and snapped with a fierce expression. She looked exactly like a cornered mother threatening danger to protect her child.
—Shing!
She drew a sharp dagger from her robes and leveled it at Hans with a trembling hand. The blade was keen and blue-edged.
Hans looked at her with a troubled face.
He had only meant to check whether she was infected by the plague rats; the stupid fur-ball had complicated everything.
That…
A portrait hanging in one corner of the room caught his eye. A woman whose eyes were veiled, wearing a gentle smile, a small hammer in one hand.
It was Saint Kenelm—the first saint and known demon-judge. A spark of interest lit Hans’s eyes.
“Ma’am, please look at this.”
Hans carefully drew a necklace from his coat. It bore the emblem of the Pantheon.
The woman’s gaze fixed on the necklace; for a moment she looked dumbfounded. She clearly recognized the mark of the Pantheon.
“We come from the Pantheon. We were rough because of a misunderstanding, but I swear by the Six Gods that we came for your sake.”
“Is that… is that true?”
She asked with trembling eyes, though wariness still remained.
“Then recite the Xanthe Gospel. Chapter 5, verse 16! If you truly came from the Pantheon, you would know at least that much.”
“Uh… um.”
Hans’s face was openly flustered by her demand.
Xanthe Gospel? What the hell was that supposed to be? As he hemmed and hawed without an answer, suspicion thickened in the woman’s eyes.
“In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your six gods in heaven.”
The verse rolled smoothly from Rohan’s mouth. Hans’s eyes went wide. He had never expected the idiot to know something like that.
Hearing the passage Rohan recited, the woman finally seemed to believe Hans’s words.
“Ah… aah. You really… you really are from the Pantheon.”
The dagger slipped from her shaking hand and clattered across the floor. The tension left her body; she swayed unsteadily.
“P-please… my daughter…”
And then—
“Mom!”
“Ma’am!”
She collapsed bonelessly to the floor. Her face had gone deathly pale. Thin, rattling breaths slipped weakly between cracked lips.
Hans quickly checked her arms and legs.
The greatest hallmark of the plague they had been briefed on was the red-and-black spots that appeared all over the body, along with red swellings in the armpits and the backs of the knees.
“Damn it…”
Clear black spots marked the woman’s arms and legs.
She was infected. Hans swiftly pulled cloth from his bag and covered his nose and mouth.
Rohan moved just as fast, covering his own nose and wrapping a cloth around Daisy as well.
“Rohan!”
Rohan hoisted the woman onto his back and kicked the door open as he ran. Hans scooped Daisy into his arms and followed.
As the two of them sprinted through the small village, the villagers’ gazes clung to them. At last Hans understood the reason for those stares.
Sensing the sharp looks, Daisy squirmed and buried her face against Hans’s chest.
— “Unlucky… plague… devil…!”
— “…Whore… filthy…!!”
The villagers’ whispered malice reached Hans’s ears.
He tried hard not to listen and simply ran after Rohan.
The little flower bracelet on Daisy’s wrist swayed near her face. She had covered her eyes with her hands.