Spear Saint Asel (5)
Ardel muttered from inside the carriage.
"So why did you all get close to Argal, anyway?"
It was a forbidden question. It felt like pressing a finger to a wound each of them still carried — and all the more so for Fran and Besia, who had been pulled back from death itself at the cost of a life thrown on the line.
Fran subtly looked away. Raeli answered in her place. Of all of them, she was the one who had stood a little taller in front of Argal — the one who, if anything, took pride in having been the one to save him.
"You know about the incident at the Academy, right, big brother?"
"Of course I do. I heard he got hurt pretty badly there."
Fran cut in.
"Hurt doesn't even begin to cover it. His body was completely wrecked! What does he even do with himself that he treats his own life like that?!"
"I-is that right?"
Ardel scratched his head. He pictured Argal as he usually was, and worry tangled with bewilderment. Where had that coward gone, and how had he turned into someone who flung his own body around without a second thought? A person had changed overnight. And yet there was one thing Ardel remained certain of: Argal was still Argal. His heart was still soft. He pitied people. He ached for them. Ardel knew that tender-hearted little brother of his — and that, surely, was why so many different people called him a friend.
"...I think I get the picture."
"Then maybe someone should've given him a proper upbringing—mmph! Mmph!"
"F-Fran, that's enough! That is a seriously rude thing to say!"
Just what have you been getting yourself into, little brother?
While the two girls were making a scene, Reinhardt, seated up front, let out a quiet snort of laughter. He slipped into the conversation as casually as if he'd been waiting for the opening.
"She's not wrong."
"Reinhardt, not you too?!"
"A guy who lectures people on manners, charging in without looking left or right? Hard to argue with that."
Ardel couldn't quite follow what they were talking about. He'd have to sit his brother down and have a proper talk once they met again. Faintly, almost wistfully, he found himself looking backward.
"My little brother has always had far too much compassion."
"..."
"He once brought home a child who'd lost their parents and was wandering the streets, saying he felt sorry for them, and made them a maid at our estate. If someone got badly hurt, he'd cry. He'd rather take the wound himself than watch anyone else suffer. That's the kind of kid he is."
Because he had been that kind of child. Even if his face had grown cold, his actions hadn't changed. Ardel could already guess: he had thrown his own body on the line to save someone else.
"H-he did? If that's what Argal is like, it all makes sense."
"Wow. That's the first I've heard of that, big brother."
"It's not something you go around telling people, so..."
Ardel muttered that and turned his gaze away. Even if the boy had been introduced as Argal's friend, a ducal house was still a heavy thing to sit across from. He'd been careful even bringing it up.
"U-um, young master?"
"No need to stand on ceremony."
"Then, Reinhardt — where am I going?"
"To see the mayor of Antoni."
"...What?"
It was as if a massive explosion had gone off beside his ear. Ardel stared blankly, looking for all the world like he'd gone deaf.
"Did you not hear me? We're going to meet the mayor."
"Th-the mayor?"
"Is there a problem?"
The mayor was the highest-ranking official one could possibly encounter in Antoni. And they were going to sit down with a man whose mere presence was enough to crush the air from a room. Ardel's stomach twisted.
"Why are you going to see the mayor?"
"Because Antoni is at risk of vanishing from the map."
This time, Ardel's mind simply checked out. His brain had taken all it could take. Fran recoiled at the sight of him sitting there with his mouth hanging open, unable to form a single word.
"He's completely gone!"
"Can you blame him?"
Fortunately, Ardel recovered his wits quickly. He swallowed hard, still bewildered.
"How are you all so calm?"
"Calm?"
"The city might disappear, and you walked straight into that death trap."
Fran answered in a voice heavy with something she did not name.
"We've been through worse."
"..."
"I think that's why."
Ardel's body went rigid. Just what have you all been through? He didn't know, so he stayed silent.
The carriage rolled on, and a girl suddenly came to his mind — a child with the odd hobby of picking mushrooms on the back mountain. She'd always come find him to talk about this and that, and he couldn't help but worry. Would this city be all right? Would a peaceful tomorrow ever come for every citizen who lived here? If it didn't... then he would do everything in his power as an apprentice knight.
If there was one thing that felt truly bizarre, it was this: why did I keep getting carried around by girls? First Besia, then Fran, and now even the Spear Saint.
"Wow. You're lighter than I thought."
"...I've heard that about ten times now. You can stop."
Yeah. I'm light. I'd heard it more than enough.
Asel mumbled under her breath.
"...If you were even a little heavier, I'd dump you and leave."
"I can hear you."
"Ugh. I said it so you would."
Pick one — either mock me or help me. And yet even as she said it, she kept trudging silently toward Antoni. Her behavior was nothing if not contradictory.
She'd already used her One-Point Thrust, and the situation was so urgent she hadn't even gotten a proper rest before moving again. Still, she kept her feet going. Even with her breath coming all the way up into her skull, she was good at dragging her body past its limit.
"Hahh... I don't know much about Magi. Is it really that serious?"
"It's just getting started, so yes — it's a race against time."
Looking at the Magi drifting through the air, I could roughly tell how the ritual worked. Every time a person died, they were instantly converted into Magi. That converted Magi all concentrated in a single place. If half the city's population were offered up there, enough power would gather for someone to reach Transcendence on their own. And once the Black Tower Lord reached Transcendence, everyone would be slaughtered. The city would be wiped from the map, just like that.
So the most basic response was to keep as many of the city's people alive as possible. That way less Magi would gather, and the Black Tower Lord would die from the backlash of an overdrawn ritual. Easier said than done, though.
Black mages were vicious creatures. They didn't pull off something this unmanageable without a plan. Pouring out deadly poison, spreading plague, raising the dead citizens as undead — they would use every method available, no holds barred.
That was why the Hero's role was crucial. Outside help was essential. Ideally, the Golden Knights and the Church's priests that the Hero had requested would arrive just before the Black Tower Lord reached Transcendence.
Then again, could we even trust the Church right now? The planted spy had moved faster than expected. I didn't know what their intent was, but if the Church's cooperation was off the table, then at the very least the Golden Knights had to come.
I set the thoughts aside. What came after mattered — but so did the present.
"...Asel."
"Hngh. What?"
She was soaked in sweat. So much of it that it was seeping into my own clothes. The Spear Saint was pushing herself far too hard. I should have said something much sooner, given the state she was in.
"Stop. Let's rest for a bit."
"O-okay."
I'd neglected her too much by not paying attention. A thought was starting to form: would the two of us even be of any real help if we went? I was an exception, but Asel... I wasn't sure. She was a genius, but she didn't have the skill to make a real difference yet. You needed to at least reach Expert, like the Sword Saint, before you became a meaningful addition to the fighting force. Still — if it was the Spear Saint, maybe she could break through that limit.
Asel set me down and studied my face for a moment, lost in thought. She wore the same gloomy expression as always.
"You don't need to worry about me."
"You're dripping sweat. Of course I need to worry."
"You're the one in worse shape."
I tilted my head. Worrying about me, of all things. That wasn't like her. She'd worried about me once before, sure — but she hadn't shown that side of herself since.
Asel blocked out the bright sky above me. Her dark, murky black eyes stared down at me intently, as if she'd made some kind of decision. She said something she never usually would.
"I never really understood the way you usually act."
"..."
"I think I'm starting to get it now."
She leaned in a little closer. Something felt near. The gloomy girl murmured quietly.
"There's something I want to say."
"Go ahead."
"Why are you going?"
There was an obvious reason for that.
"Because if I don't, an even bigger catastrophe will break out."
"Even with your body in that condition?"
"Yeah."
Asel seemed to feel something from my answer and fell silent for a moment. Then she asked again.
"Argal. Do you have no attachment to life?"
"Why would you think that?"
"Because you're always trying to die."
She was far too honest. Anyone else would have guessed at the reason, or deliberately avoided asking because it felt like a question they shouldn't pose. She pointed directly at my identity — and it was closer to the truth than I'd expected.
"..."
Okay. That was a little too direct.
"Want to know why I thought that?"
"Why?"
"Because I never really clung to life either."
"You didn't cling to it?"
"That's why I felt this weird sense of kinship with you."
Was that a shocking confession? Or was it just like her? Even in the past, the Spear Saint had never shown any attachment to her own life. A war chariot charging straight into the Demon King's army. It was the same now. She'd displayed the skill to hold her ground among lesser demons, and she'd thrown herself into every dangerous situation with death already accepted. But if it wasn't that she'd accepted death — if she simply didn't care whether she died — and if that was the origin of her bizarre personality... then her actions before the regression made a certain amount of sense.
"So why are you telling me this now?"
"I'm thinking it over."
Asel rolled her eyes in a slow circle.
"If you die, the people around you are going to be really sad."
"That's none of your business, is it?"
"No, it is. I've gotten a little attached, okay?"
So even she was capable of attachment. But it was a little contradictory.
"If you have no attachment to life, why do you have attachments to people?"
"Those are two different things. You think a person's heart can just be split cleanly down the middle? Besides, my feelings have changed."
"...Changed?"
Back to the point. She brought out what she'd been wanting.
"So let's make a wager, Argal."
"A wager?"
I'd used that once before. But that had been to fix her personality. I hadn't expected it to come back around like this.
"...What?"
"Meeting you... I gradually found a reason to live."
She inferred the reason she'd become this way.
"Watching everyone struggle just to hold down an unbeatable enemy for even a moment... that's when my heart changed."
To take down a high-ranking demon. Had she felt something from everyone's sacrifice — from the way they bought her the time she needed for her One-Point Thrust? She had definitely changed starting from that moment.
"So I'll give you a reason to live, too."
Her resolution was a strange one. It wasn't like Fran, trying to bind me. It wasn't like Besia, trying to prevent a death from happening in the first place. She said she'd give me a motive to live. A reason to live... for an Immortal. For a being who lived because he couldn't die. She wanted to make me want to live.
"And how do you plan to do that...?"
"Once that reason to live is fully complete, I'll grant you a wish."
"...Do whatever you want."
If there was one misunderstanding, it was this: I didn't cling to life because I was an Immortal. It wasn't like her, who had only one life and still hadn't found a reason to live. I let that misunderstanding slide. For now, I was curious.
"Then, Asel — why do you want that?"
"If you try to die, the people around you will be sad."
The Spear Saint's face grew faintly melancholy.
"And I think I'd be sad, too."
Then she smiled.
She seemed somewhat relieved, as if she'd finally said what she'd been wanting to say all this time. And that was the irony. The Spear Saint had changed because of my actions. She didn't want me to die. But unlike the others, she wasn't trying to stop my death through physical means — confinement, contracts, healing. She wanted to change my heart. She wanted to give me an attachment to life. She believed that just as she had changed, she could change me too. This, too, was a misunderstanding born from not revealing that I was an Immortal.
Even Asel saying something like this... it was a lot to carry. At this rate, I had no choice but to bend my stubbornness, even just a little. Someday, before the misunderstandings grew too extreme, I'd have to tell them the truth. Especially since there was a high chance I'd die again because of this incident. In that case, I'd tell them before I died. I couldn't tell everyone I had a connection with — but I could tell the ones who would witness my death. So they could fully believe I was Immortal. So their misconceptions would stop tormenting them.