Bernoa's Memories (2)
Eldacrad firmly rejected Bernoa's confession.
It was the first true sense of defeat she had known since becoming the Saint.
"That… can't be."
"I'm sorry."
Bernoa sank into gloom for a long while afterward. Even so, she decided she could not simply leave things as they were. She still loved Eldacrad. If they could not become husband and wife—if she could not become his wife—then she would simply remain at his side. She would content herself with that. That was the resolve she settled on.
From that day forward she kept a measured distance and stayed among his close aides. A Saint, after all, could not press too near a man who already had a fiancée.
Eldacrad reorganized the Ashtar army and laid out a new plan.
"I mean to go after the Demon King's forces in earnest."
"The Demon King's army, my lord?"
"The stronger humanity has grown, the more the Demon King's forces have sought to hinder us. And which power is expanding most in this age? Our Ashtar family."
"You intend to strike first."
"The Four Heavenly Kings have been quiet of late—this is our chance. We must thoroughly purge the demonkin of the Demon Realm."
It was a plan worthy of a hero. Some muttered that Eldacrad had grown arrogant, yet the situation was one in which arrogance could be forgiven. When else, after all, would humanity have another chance to strike the Demon Realm?
And at last, Ashtar marched on the Demon Realm itself.
"Not bad—for a human."
As it happened, Seto was there. The Ashtar army met Seto's forces head-on and won victory after victory against his gargoyle host and demon legions. Even Seto could not contain Eldacrad.
After that string of triumphs deep in the Demon Realm, Eldacrad finally halted the advance as the war dragged on.
"We've come far enough."
"You will not finish Seto?"
"If the fatigue of war piles high enough, even we will begin to break. Besides, we have already raised an Ashtar fortress inside the Demon Realm. We can leave the rest for the next generation's hero."
The fighting had been relentless. Even an undefeated army was accumulating the weariness of endless campaigning. Worse, if things continued, Ashtar Territory itself might run short of grain after shipping so much away as military supply. They could have sought the kingdom's aid, but Eldacrad seemed unwilling to do so.
Bernoa wanted only to be of use to him.
"M-my lord. If I speak to the kingdom, they will send support."
If need demanded it, the kingdom would spare nothing to aid Eldacrad simply to keep the damage from spreading.
"No. As I told you, the soldiers are exhausted. And we have come too deep. Not a single human lives in this place. Push any farther and we may walk into an ambush and take losses we cannot afford."
"I see."
Perhaps this, too, was only another way of keeping her at a distance. Feeling a needless sting of hurt, she left the tent.
"Saint. The lord has ordered us to prepare for departure. We are to withdraw."
At the news that the Ashtar army would retreat, she had begun packing her things inside the tent when someone struck her from behind and she lost consciousness.
When she came to herself, she was no longer in an Ashtar tent. The place was dark, clammy, and damp—no, not merely a building. Though everything around her was the color of ash, the vast structure rose like a castle.
"Awake, are you?"
"You—Seto!"
The figure at her side was not Eldacrad, but Seto. Bernoa tried to call a miracle, yet he cut her off at once.
"Keh keh. Eldacrad would be another matter. But do you truly think I cannot handle a Saint whose only gift is purifying lowly monsters?"
"Kh…"
It was galling, but true. A Saint alone could never hope to stand against Seto of the Four Heavenly Kings. Yet the man seemed to have no intention of killing her. He carried not the faintest scrap of murderous intent.
"Don't fret. I have no wish to kill you."
"What do you want?"
Captured and dragged this far, she had no thought of begging for her life. She would watch for an opening to strike or flee. For now she only meant to learn what scheme he was nursing.
"How does it feel? Being betrayed by Eldacrad?"
"Betrayed? What are you talking about?"
What nonsense was he about to spew? Was he trying to drive a wedge between them like this?
"Exactly what I said. He whispered of love, yet in the end he discarded you."
"He did not discard me! I was the one who approached him! Because I was vulgar—because I pressed near him even though he had a fiancée."
So the lord was without sin. That was how she told herself it was. Of course she would. Becoming the Saint had been half-forced as well. Had she refused, high-ranking men would have sold her off somewhere or used her as they pleased long before she ever stood before the Pope. She was a woman unworthy of the Saint's office. That was why she had confessed to a man with a fiancée and asked him to cast the other woman aside.
"Keh keh. Would a wench keep drawing near a man who gives her no room?"
"!!"
"Just as a woman is sensitive to a man's gaze, a man has instincts of his own. Do you think Eldacrad failed to know your heart until the day you confessed?"
That could not be. Leaving aside whether a man gave room or not, Lord Eldacrad was not that sort of person. He would never exploit a woman's feelings.
"No. That can't be."
"Even if he did not know—was it not still a problem for a man with a fiancée to keep another woman constantly at his side?"
"That…"
The words would not come. She ought to have been defending Lord Eldacrad, yet somehow she found herself doubting his kindness.
"You were simply discarded, you pitiful thing."
Thud.
Those words drove a nail straight through her chest.
"Shut up! No! No!"
"Do you think I am merely spouting whatever comes to mind? Think with common sense and it is all plain, is it not?"
No. She must not listen. It was nothing but a devil's temptation. Filth. Nothing but words meant to stain her with evil as well. Those words were not even worth hearing. She needed only to believe in Lord Eldacrad.
"The lord would never use me."
She struck back with all the force she could muster.
"No—he did use you. As I said. A man who already had a fiancée kept a woman at his side simply because she was the Saint. You were used however he pleased."
No. It could not be. Bernoa shook her head.
"No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!"
"Hey. That lord who ignored your devoted love—is he truly the real lord?"
"What are you saying!"
Was he claiming there was a fake?
"In truth, were you not simply searching for someone—anyone—you could trust and rely upon, someone who would love you? Did the Eldacrad of today live up to that hope?"
"……"
Bernoa could not answer. From childhood she had yearned for love. It was also true that she had believed Lord Eldacrad would give it to her. But he was the real lord. Just because he did not give her love—just because he might have used her—did not make him a fake.
"That lord is a fake. If he were real, knowing full well how you have lived, he could never have cast you aside so coldly. That is a fake."
Lord Eldacrad knew perfectly well how she had lived. Bernoa herself had told him. Before she realized it, her judgment was growing clouded. For some time now her head had felt strangely fogged.
"That's impossible. Then who is the real lord…"
"He's right in front of you, is he not?"
Seto seized Bernoa's head and twisted it aside. In front of her? In the direction he pointed, something black and murky was rippling.
What on earth was that?
A dark, bottomless abyss. Something that seemed to hold every darkness in the world was slowly drawing nearer.
"What… is that?"
"It is time to wake from the nightmare, Bernoa."
A nightmare? Anyone could see that that was the nightmare. That was what she thought at first. Yet somehow the thing began, little by little, to take on a human shape.
"Wh-what is that?"
She shook her head and stumbled backward, but Seto pointed at the dark, deep abyss as if he knew exactly what it was.
"The true lord who will love you, become your everything, and be your light. The Demon King."
"That's absurd. N-no."
She must not look. Instinct screamed it. But human instinct was a helpless thing. When something so unnatural stood before one's eyes—when that thing was the Demon King, the enemy of all mankind—one could not help looking at least once.
No. That was only an excuse. Perhaps she had been slightly swayed by the words the true lord who will love me. From the beginning she had never been righteous; she had become the Saint by chance, and for Eldacrad's sake she would have done anything.
She had to ignore it. She had to ignore it—yet the vast abyss began to eat away at her heart, bit by bit.
Kiiiiing—
Rosaria, said to hold the Goddess's power and will, began to tremble. The light sought to resist the abyss. For a single fleeting instant Bernoa gripped the cross in her hand and chose to look at the darkness instead of the light.
Just once. Only once.
She needed only to look once, catch Seto off guard, and die with him. And in the abyss that swallowed her, she saw him.
The "true lord."
"My beloved Bernoa."
No. That was not the lord. Now that she thought of it, this was wrong. She had to cover her ears. At first she tried to reject it. That was the Demon King. Seto himself had said so. That was the Demon King. Yes. She had to defeat that thing somehow.
Yet the Demon King went on whispering, sweet as honey.
"How hard you have suffered all this time. From now on I hope you will stay by my side and fight with me."
"No. Y-you are not the lord!"
She had to cover her ears. She was different from the other fools who fell for such things.
"If not me—then is that man who will not even embrace you, who draws a line between you, truly your lord?"
"This is nothing but an incubus's enchantment!"
A woman called the Saint could not fall for something like this.
"Does it truly look that way to you? Is Eldacrad, who ignored you and used you only when he needed you, truly your lord?"
"That…"
"I am your lord. The true one."
"!!"
Before she knew it, the abyss that had spoken only in a deep voice had fully taken human form. It was Eldacrad. Eldacrad whispered of love.
"Look at me. At my love for you. I can grant you anything you desire. I am different from that man. Will you love a man who would not even say he would take you as a mistress—or will you follow me, who whispers that I love you? I desire not the Saint Bernoa, but the woman Bernoa."
Gulp.
She must not follow. She must not—but why must she not? He said he would love her. He said he would love not the Saint Bernoa, but the woman Bernoa. For the one she loved, she could betray humanity itself. Even if the lord were the Demon King, she could follow him. If he told her to kill people, she could kill them and offer up even their hearts.
Then… was there any problem at all?