4. 악신의 교단 (5)
After returning from the expedition under the guidance of the Evil God, they embedded the monster's heart deep within the cult's underground headquarters, a task overseen by Seraphina. Once they poured slick, viscous blood into it, the heart began to beat once more—as if it had been destined for this from the very beginning. What they obtained in return was a pure, untainted light. It was a magical glow, devoid of both smoke and heat. Seraphina marveled at the technological prowess of this great civilization, while the cultists wept in awe of their god's mercy.
The same was true for the people rescued from the monster's belly. Seraphina's anxieties—that they might suddenly go mad, or that they would succumb to their savage Iron Mask nature and harm the cultists—proved entirely unfounded. They melted seamlessly into their new lives. Or, to be more precise, they submitted to them.
"...Their responsiveness is remarkably weak, I must say. It seems to be the lingering effects of some drug. It may take some time before their sanity fully returns."
The people of this other world did not regain their senses easily. With the help of the cultists, they managed to learn the basic necessities of survival—eating, washing, and using the restroom—relatively quickly. Yet, their eyes remained unfocused. They stared blankly into space, as if gazing at some distant world inside their own minds. Their mouths hung slack and open, and the fragments of the Iron Mask tongue they occasionally mumbled were incoherent. They looked less like humans or beasts and more like living dolls. Except for one.
"That man drugged the older girls. I heard him bragging about how he mixed narcotics and aphrodisiacs in the perfect ratio..."
This was the young girl who had first clutched the hem of Seraphina's robes. Visibly younger than the other women, she adapted to life in the cult faster than anyone. In the eyes of this child, who had been the only one to display any semblance of willpower when they first met, life had finally begun to return.
"He said he was going to make me take them too. But one of the wealthy customers stopped him, saying they wanted to see my natural reaction. Apparently, they were someone very important."
Before long, the girl took to clinging to Seraphina's side and chattering away. At first, she had sought refuge near Seraphina simply to avoid the beastmen who wagged their tails at her, but now she would wander the cult's headquarters searching for Seraphina the moment she woke up.
"Child. The Saintess is busy with the affairs of the church. Do not disturb her, and come over here."
"Fufu, it is quite alright, Merlin. Besides, if you want to take the child, you will have to hide that wagging tail of yours first."
Naturally, those around her tried to intervene, but Seraphina did not push the child away. At first, she had stayed close to the girl out of concern that—by some terrible, infinitesimal chance—the beastmen cultists might harm her. But as time passed, she began to feel a strange sense of fulfillment from the way the young girl hid behind her back.
"...Thank you, big sister. Those misters... their ears and tails are cute, but their faces aren't."
Seeing the girl peek out from behind her back reminded Seraphina of her younger peers back at the convent. At the same time, she felt a quiet joy in knowing that she could be of help to someone in need. Thus, the two girls grew closer.
The language barrier did not matter. Though Seraphina still did not understand the meaning of the Iron Masks' strange cries, and her attempts to teach the child the common tongue of the Continent had yielded little progress, it was enough that the girl smiled far more often now.
A few days passed like this. Eventually, the brown-eyed, black-haired girl was given a name. Meaning 'The Tested One' in the language of the church, she was called Nisyona (Nisyonā).
She was the living proof, a testament to whether a human from this other world could also serve their great god. At the same time, she was an examinee whose success the entire cult prayed for.
Holding Nisyona's hand as the girl laughed brightly, Seraphina thought to herself: the future path of the cult would shift dramatically depending on where this child's journey led.
Time flowed swiftly. Enough time passed for the bruises on the child's body to fade, and for the wounds in her heart to scab over.
The timid child who had once cowered behind Seraphina's back began to show her true, playful nature. She ran around playing pranks on the surface with the beastman children, and even used her unique abilities to tame a few small monsters.
The day Nisyona first tamed a monster, the entire cult was thrown into an uproar. Watching the palm-sized, four-legged beast frolic at the tips of the girl's fingers, they argued fiercely over whether they should exterminate it. Only two people in the entire cult—Seraphina and Merlin—simply watched the scene with warm, affectionate smiles.
If it was the will of their god, what did it matter if a monster was tamed? What was impossible to a god who could make a four-legged beast stand on its head and perform backflips? The two of them were already deeply, unshakably devout.
Furthermore, the ripples Nisyona caused over the next few months did not stop there. Upon seeing Nisyona return one day wearing an Iron Mask she had picked up by chance, they realized a startling new truth.
"So, the face of the Iron Mask was not their actual face. It really was just a mask worn over it."
"...Indeed. Their very name is 'Iron Mask,' after all. If it is a mask, it is only natural that a real face lies beneath it. Ha, how absurd. Why did we never question the name until now? It is almost as if someone erased the thought from our minds..."
"Then the Iron Masks might have originally been human as well. They were simply mutated like this for some unknown reason."
"Most of the Iron Masks possess no detectable mana. That lack of magic may have played a part in their transformation."
"Perhaps that is also why only the Iron Masks reacted so strangely to the Evil God's gifts."
The pieces of this new truth fell into place like a puzzle in Seraphina's mind. The Evil God who had destroyed a great civilization... What, then, had become of the people who built that civilization? The scattered Iron Masks were the answer.
"Perhaps... we might even be able to welcome those among the Iron Masks who can remove their masks or repent into our cult."
Seraphina spoke cautiously. Of course, by any normal standard, the idea of worshiping the very god who had destroyed one's own civilization seemed utterly nonsensical. Yet, she did not doubt. The answer was already written on the murals of the cult's headquarters. Had the people in those murals not willingly worshiped the god who swept their civilization away in a great deluge? This, too, must be part of the Evil God's grand design. Seraphina simply submitted to it.
From that day forward, the cult's proselytizing grew even more fervent, now that the Iron Masks could be targeted for conversion. For instance, they actively searched for and rescued "humans" who had collapsed with their masks removed, bringing them to the cult's surface facilities. Or, they would seek out devout "prospective cultists" who attempted to strip the masks off others, showing them the Evil God's holy gifts to secure "voluntary donations."
Gathering necessary supplies under the Evil God's guidance, proselytizing, and expanding their influence... It was a peaceful, fulfilling routine, almost unbelievable for a world overrun by monsters. But on one ordinary day, as Seraphina gazed up at the gloomy gray sky, seeking the cold gaze of her god as she always did, shocking news arrived.
"S-Saintess! The cultists proselytizing on the Continent have been kidnapped! Chief—no, Priest Hector and several others were treated as wild beastmen and captured by slave traders—"
"—Summon Merlin. Bring the messenger as well. Once we grasp the situation, we will move immediately."
Seraphina immediately called a meeting. Once the details were clear, her decision was instantaneous.
"We will raid the auction house. Everyone, prepare yourselves."
"Yes!"
In unison, the cultists loaded the Evil God's holy gifts.
Inside a fortress that had once been a battlefield but was abandoned after a gate opened within it, a red-haired woman sighed as she surveyed the chaotic surroundings.
"Sigh... I seriously don't know if they've lost their minds."
A gate. A cursed anomaly that spewed monsters from another world. They usually manifested in secluded areas where mana gathered, such as ancient temples or graveyards. Once open, they drained the surrounding magic, causing the atmospheric mana concentration to plummet. Consequently, merely approaching a gate subjected magic users to a profound sense of lethargy. Unless one possessed the strength of a Tower Master or a Sword Master, fighting the monsters was nearly impossible. It was a disaster that shook the very foundations of the Continent.
Yet at this moment, the woman realized that some mad merchants would always find a way to exploit any catastrophe.
"An auction house right next to a gate. I don't know whether to call it a brilliant idea or sheer, suicidal stupidity."
A secret VIP auction house held in the vicinity of a gate. Waiting in line at the entrance, the red-haired woman grumbled.
"Sure, the suppression of magic means there's less chance of a robbery. But what if monsters suddenly pour out of the gate? What then?"
The woman's face was twisted in a deep scowl. As a mage, she was far more sensitive to the sensation of her mana being drained. The man who had brought her here noticed her discomfort and quickly spoke up to comfort her.
"Ailyn, bear with it just a little longer. We'll leave as soon as we retrieve the relic."
The man speaking was not in peak condition either; sweat beaded on his brow, and his face looked slightly gaunt. Yet, the handsome blonde youth patted her back gently, looking far more concerned for Ailyn than himself. At his touch, Ailyn's scowl softened. She looked up, meeting his eyes.
"Sigh. Charlie. Is the information absolutely solid this time?"
"Of course! I got this intel after defeating a worshiper of the Demon King. Though, it seems the auction house organizers still don't realize the true value of what they have."
"It had better be. If we came all this way for nothing again, you're dead...!"
Ailyn playfully raised her fist, feigning a punch to Charlie's chest. But before Charlie could react, the other woman standing beside him intervened.
"Lady Ailyn, there are boundaries one must respect, regardless of the circumstances."
The woman in the pure white priestess robes swiftly caught Ailyn's hand, delivering a solemn warning. Flustered, Ailyn locked eyes with the priestess. Soon, sparks began to fly between them.
"...Rowena. It's a joke. Just a joke."
"Lady Ailyn. What is a joke to you can be hurtful to others. Look at Charlie's face."
"Charlie's face? Hmm. As his childhood friend, that looks to me like a face that's happy to be joking around with me."
"No. Charlie's expression right now says he finds you tiresome. It seems that despite spending so much time with him, you still do not know him well, Lady Ailyn."
"Ahaha... Really? Shall we ask Charlie directly, then?"
"That is a foolish question. Kind-hearted as he is, Charlie would only give a polite answer to spare your feelings. But that would hardly reflect his true thoughts."
"And how on earth would you know that...!"
"I know. Because Charlie and I share a destiny ordained by Order itself...!"
The war of nerves between the two women escalated rapidly. Women fighting over an oblivious man were bound to grow venomous. Just as they glared at each other, beginning to channel their mana while completely forgetting they were near a gate—
"Enough, Ailyn, Rowena. Joking is fine, but not here. Look, you're making Haru nervous."
Charlie intervened, gently placing a small beastman girl between Ailyn and Rowena.
"You know how much courage it took for Haru, born a slave, to come to an auction house. It must be deeply uncomfortable for her, reminding her of the days when she was sold and returned. Come on, let's stop for Haru's sake."
Rowena and Ailyn stared at each other for a moment before turning away in perfect unison. A sharp huff escaped both of their noses in flawless harmony.
Letting out a wry smile, Charlie addressed the two sulking women.
"Get ready. The auction will begin soon. We must retrieve the legacy of the ancient Demon King hidden among the items."
Declaring this, the youth lightly gripped the hilt of the sword concealed at his waist. Even sheathed, the longsword exuded an extraordinary aura. It was the very object that proved the hidden identity of this handsome blonde youth.
One of the eight sacred relics forged by the combined power of the three chief gods: the Holy Sword Karmanta (Samyak-karmānta).
A beacon of hope against the Demon King, the 5th Hero, Charlie, gazed at the auction house and the gate looming beyond it. He swore that no matter what, he would retrieve the Demon King's ring.