The Cleric Besia
"Shit. Maybe it's from having my face shoved in the dirt so long, but my mouth's about to go all crooked."
"Hey. You over there. If you can hear me, how about answering?"
"I've got nothing to say to an apostate who bowed his head to a black mage."
The way she talked, she really did sound like a cleric. Or close enough, at least.
Either way, her mental fortitude was something else. A normal person would be laid up for a week after a single session of torture magic, haunted by the trauma for the rest of their life — yet this girl was just casually swearing. Her tone might have sounded flippant, but her potential might actually be something special. Endurance and patience were talents in their own right.
"Think whatever you want. So — you're not planning on dying like this, are you?"
"Die? Who the hell's dying? I'm still fine, thanks."
"What, you think you'll last three days? You haven't eaten properly, have you? You're skin and bones. Surviving torture magic in that condition is impressive, I'll give you that."
"Hmph."
I was about to say more when footsteps echoed down the stairwell. The atmosphere went dead as a tomb. Gaudium came down the stairs.
"Eat."
He tossed a white loaf of bread at me. This was the reward for being obedient, I supposed. The bread was still warm, as if freshly baked, and it smelled good. Not that it did anything for my appetite.
"There's nothing for you."
And for the girl who was still resisting, there was no food at all. If she'd been a valuable test subject, they would have kept her alive at least. Judging by Gaudium's attitude, she wasn't worth that much. The Executioners had been supplying them with test subjects on a regular basis, so there was no need to fuss over a single slave — even if that slave happened to be a former cleric.
Once Gaudium left, the heavy atmosphere lifted. Rather than pick up where I'd left off, I tossed the bread in my hand across to the other side of the cell.
"Eat."
"I don't need an apostate's pity."
"You'll actually die at this rate. You know the state your body's in better than anyone."
She said nothing. Then a hand reached out toward the white bread that had landed in front of the iron bars — a hand so emaciated it was painful just to look at.
Crunch. Crunch.
She chewed and swallowed the white bread in an instant. She hesitated a few times, then, quietly, spoke just loud enough for me to hear.
"...Thanks."
She didn't need to thank me for something like this. Whether I chewed white bread or swallowed grains of sand, it made no difference to me. I'd eat something to maintain a minimum of appearances, but the value of food was completely different between me and a girl who could die from going hungry even a little.
Might as well introduce ourselves. I'd decided to save this cleric, so I ought to at least know her name.
"I'm Argal. What's your name?"
"Besia."
"If you're not planning on dying, do what the black mage says — at least to some extent. You need to stay alive, even if just for a little while."
"You think I don't know what those bastards are like? Even if I hold out... I'll either die, or end up in something worse than death. One or the other. I'd rather just die."
I ran the numbers in my head. I had not the slightest intention of lingering here as Gaudium's test subject. I'd sooner rip that nauseating face of his to shreds right now than stay a second longer than I had to. Besides, I'd promised Caron I'd come back. Taking a month or two to do it wouldn't count as keeping that promise.
A week at most. I'd be back within a week. By any means necessary. That was what I did best.
"Hold out for two days. No — just one. I'll find a way."
"What the hell are you talking about? Who do you think you are, coming up with a way in a single day? What, are you some duke's son? Is a Swordmaster going to descend from the heavens to rescue you?"
"Something equivalent to that will happen."
"...What?"
If I put my mind to it, I couldn't wipe Ambrosia's headquarters off the map — but I could reduce it to rubble. This wasn't the kingdom's Executioners. It was just the headquarters of some black mages. All I had to do was go all out.
Originally, I'd planned to annihilate them completely. But that would inevitably mean fighting the Executioners, and if I started killing Executioners, the kingdom's Swordmaster would show up. I knew because I'd lived through it firsthand. I'd been killing Executioners to bring down the royal family, and I'd ended up face-to-face with a Swordmaster.
On top of that, there was my promise to Caron, and the fraying thread of this cleric's remaining life. Leave her for three days and she'd be dead, no question. And if Gaudium decided to torture her in the meantime, that window would shrink even further. She was so wasted away that three days was a generous estimate. She was covering for it with overwhelming willpower, but it wouldn't have been strange if she just collapsed and died at any moment.
I was lost in those thoughts when Besia said something completely out of left field.
"Um... you're not actually from some ducal house... are you?"
If I were the son of a duke — not just any noble, but a duke — even a cleric would have to grovel. It was an understandable mistake, but it was an unnecessary misunderstanding, so I corrected it quickly.
"Just a minor baronial house."
"Ah, shit, you had me going. And if you're from some nobody house, what kind of rescue party's gonna show up?"
"It's a different method. Don't worry about it — just stay alive."
"Got my hopes up for nothing."
Even Besia, with all her mental strength, had clearly given up on escaping on her own a long time ago. Couldn't blame her. If it were just Gaudium, maybe. But this was a gathering of hundreds of black mages. As long as they were entrenched here, a slave uprising would lead to only one future: everyone dying.
And yet she'd still found hope, even if just for a moment.
Some time passed. The only sound was the faint whisper of each other's breathing. In an underground dungeon where not a sliver of light got through, I had no sense of time, but it felt like about a day had gone by.
Just as the silence was becoming unbearable, Gaudium came down.
"Heh heh. Sleep well?"
He appeared before me with a greasy smile. I nodded without a word. He snorted a laugh and crossed over to the other side, then asked Besia the same question as yesterday.
"Have you a mind to follow me now?"
Just bow your head once. Then I can save you.
As Gaudium waited for her answer, so did I. Had what I'd said yesterday gotten through to her?
"I... will."
The moment her head bowed, a dam that had been holding everything back burst. A torrent of emotion crashed over the girl. No matter how fiercely her iron will had been wrapping itself around her, she had endured pain that would have broken anyone else long ago.
Those few words were thick with tears. Not an act. Pure, unfiltered sincerity. The words she'd wanted to say all along. And yet, because she hadn't wanted to abandon her god, because she hadn't wanted to give up her faith, she'd held that one sentence in, crying out to her god in silence the entire time.
In the past, she must have died because she couldn't bring herself to say those words.
Gaudium let out a laugh thick with madness. A priest who had always stood above him, so lofty and proud, had finally bowed her head. He was overflowing with delight.
"Heh... heh... Good. Both of you, come out. I have something to show you."
The iron bars of the cell swung open, and Besia and I walked out of the dungeon. She could barely keep herself upright, her steps so weak she could hardly stand, but she managed to follow somehow.
Gaudium spoke as he climbed the stairs.
"We research immortality. The ultimate black magic that conquers death. Though it need not be black magic, really. Hexes, the Great Demon, human sacrifice, dark gods — we will embrace anything, so long as it brings us closer to immortality."
The girl frowned. As a cleric, this was something she could never accept. They believed that living out a predetermined lifespan and then departing was the fate granted by their god.
"And I have a feeling that the end of this research is drawing near. Yes, it won't be long now."
He wasn't wrong. I had, in fact, become an Immortal. And the Hero had sent me back here.
"This is the first step toward that glory."
It was an altar so lavish I couldn't even begin to guess how much wealth had been poured into it. In the past, I hadn't known what I was looking at. But seeing it now through a black mage's eyes, I could tell just how extravagant it was.
The blood of nearly a thousand humans had been painted on and left to dry, and atop that sat the blood of hundreds of children. The bones of those children and humans whose blood had been offered were ground down to form the altar itself, and atop it, a demon's horn had been sculpted into some grotesque shape. Factoring in the intricate crests carved into the stone, this was a level of craftsmanship that couldn't have been achieved without grinding an entire lifetime into it.
"The appointed day is one month from now."
As the first stage of the ritual, the subject's blood had to be scattered. I had gone through the exact same process and completed the ritual, so Gaudium would certainly do the same.
There was one variable, though.
"You won't last a day, let alone a month."
Besia said nothing.
"Tsk. I'll fetch some potions. Better than having you die midway through."
With that, Gaudium left. Besia's condition was so poor he had no other choice. The moment he was gone, she collapsed right where she stood. The girl had no strength left to stand — not unless hope arrived that could overturn her despair.
"...So what's this method of yours?"
Come to think of it, was this the first time we'd faced each other and talked like this? Even in this state, the girl's appearance was striking. And those silver hair and silver eyes were the mark of a Saintess. A faint sense of something odd stirred in me as I spoke to her.
"Wait here for a moment."
"Wait? What are you gonna do?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
I opened the door Gaudium had locked on his way out. A lock I knew all too well. How many times had I opened and closed this door?
Clunk.
"Wh-what? How did you know how to—"
"Shh."
She couldn't follow me. I needed to retrieve my primary weapon. Without it, I couldn't smash this place to pieces and get us out. I had no idea when Gaudium would be back, so I couldn't explain all this. I gave her the bare minimum.
"Stay here. I'll be right back."
"Hey, at least tell me what you're planning before you—!"
Thud.
I shut the door behind me, and the vista of Ambrosia spread out before my eyes. A dark underground world. A magic tower built for black mages alone. They hurried past along the corridors, and a few of them glanced at the lone slave — but seeing that I'd walked out through the door just fine, they quickly lost interest.
Back when Ambrosia was first established, it might have been different. These days, some black mages even used slaves as assistants. There were other slaves besides me who wandered around freely. All I needed here was one thing: confidence. Moving with fear, with terror, with dread — that would only make things more dangerous.
I descended to a deeper underground floor, heading down the stairs toward the vault where Ambrosia's treasures were stored. This place was painfully familiar too. A place where each black mage registered and stored their personal treasures. This, too, required a dedicated password to enter — but I knew the password well. I'd lived here for so long that it felt like coming home. Everything was far too familiar.
Naturally, there was a keeper.
"You. What are you?"
"I have a treasure to retrieve, on Lord Gaudium's orders."
"Is that so? I don't think I've seen a slave like you before..."
The keeper scrutinized my face, but my expression was as blank as always. He couldn't find a trace of unease or worry in it.
"Fine. Write down the password."
He handed me a sheet of paper, and I wrote down the password to Gaudium's personal treasure vault. Seeing me write it out in a practiced hand, the keeper seemed to find it credible enough. He snorted a laugh and opened the door.
"Of all people, to be his slave... Well, I suppose the lesser evil beats the worst."
I opened the door and stepped inside, and a mountain of stacked black magic tools greeted me. I'd finally made it this far — but one problem presented itself.
So where the hell is the dagger?
The warehouse was such a mess that there was no finding it with a casual search.