The Road Home
Vivian’s eyes went wide the moment she caught sight of my left arm, twisted and hideous from demonic mutation. Letting out a short, bird-like shriek, she broke down into startlingly grief-stricken wails.
"Wahhh-waaah! Orabeoni! Your arm! Your aaarm!"
"...Vivian, you cry in a pretty weird way, you know that?"
Patting her back as she buried herself against my chest, I sputtered a laugh. Then, a sudden surge of mischief washing over me, I rapidly tapped my hand over her wide-open, wailing mouth.
"Wah-bwa-bwa-bwah! Wah-wa-wa-wahp! Ugh! Orabeoni! Stop it!"
"Bwahaha!"
Seeing her shift so abruptly from bawling to fuming was so hilarious that I completely lost it. She must have been genuinely pissed, because she began thumping my shoulder with clumsy little fists, but that was just as funny and adorable, and my laughter showed no sign of stopping.
Weller gave me a pathetic look, then slapped me hard across the back. Smack!
"Oof. Dear sister, you’ve got a wicked backhand."
The laughter vanished from my throat instantly.
"Cut the crap. What happened to your arm?"
"What does it look like? Don’t you have eyes?"
"......"
The silent, murderous glare she leveled at me was so chilling that even Vivian stopped sniffling and froze stiff.
"Hey now, ease up on the death glare. You’re terrifying the kid."
"Explain. Properly. Everything that happened. What about the Demon King? Did you take him down?"
"If I took him down, would my arm look like this? Use that brain of yours."
"You...!"
It felt like she was about to blow a fuse, so I chuckled and waved Muriel over.
"Muriel. I’m too buzzed to explain this right. You do it."
"Understood. Lady Weller, allow me to explain."
"Haaah... You really have it rough, Muriel."
"It is my lot in life, so I must bear it."
Look at that. Weller used to despise Muriel, but now look at them—releasing synchronized sighs like old kindred spirits. Quite a sight.
Regardless, Muriel began organizing and recounting the situation. She was so concise and articulate that even I listened in admiration.
"Hoo...? So what you’re saying is, this is the Demon King’s arm?"
Her eyes sparkling with intrigue, Weller grabbed my left arm and began kneading it with intense curiosity.
"No, it’s not his actual arm. It mutated because his soul and authority lodged themselves inside it."
"Same difference, idiot. Do you even know what a soul and an authority are? The physical body is merely a vessel to contain them. If the soul alters, the vessel reshapes to match."
"...Is that so?"
Not like I knew anything about theoretical metaphysics. Sifting through the game's lore in my head, there had been similar concepts, but calling it the Demon King’s arm still felt like a bit of a leap.
"...And? What did the Church say they’re going to do?"
"Nothing to worry about there. Father agreed to look after me."
"Father did?"
Wearing an expression of utter disbelief, Weller glanced sideways toward Urtega, who was standing in the corner striking a brooding pose.
"Yeah. If I show the slightest sign of turning or if the mutation spreads, Father himself will personally strike me down."
"...Sigh."
Letting out a rare, quiet sigh, Weller glared daggers at me.
"You stay cooped up at home and don't cause any trouble for a while. Got it?"
"Hmm? Well... I’ll think about it."
I gave a shameless shrug. Her scowl deepened, but she held her tongue and said nothing more.
Gulp!
Swallowing another mouthful of liquor, I slumped back onto the bed.
"Sniff... Orabeoni, does your arm hurt?"
"Don't worry about it. It doesn't bother me at all."
"How could it not?! It turned out like this! Sniffle... I told you not to go... You're an idiot, Orabeoni! A stupid moron!"
"Aigoo. Getting chewed out by my little sister now, am I? If I keep getting wronged like this, I might just turn into a demon out of sheer spite."
"D-Don’t say things like that! It’s scary! Wahhh-waaah-waaah!!"
As Vivian broke into another round of tears, fat drops pouring down her cheeks, Weller narrowed her eyes to slits and pummeled my back without mercy.
It hurt like hell. Seriously.
The monumental task of subjugating a Demon King had fizzled into a hollow, anticlimactic conclusion. With the Demon King escaped and his trail nowhere to be found, a heavy gloom hung over the Church’s forces. It weighed on them all the more because they hadn't been of any real help. The higher their pride had soared, the harder the fall.
Watching the backs of his troops preparing to withdraw, the Pope exhaled a heavy sigh before addressing me casually.
"Sir Stanashila Aljen. If I may ask... would you be willing to share the information regarding the Demon King locked inside your mind?"
I turned my head to meet his gaze.
Beneath his heavy veneer of duty and responsibility, a burning, combative fervor boiled within his eyes. And lingering thick within that gaze was an unmistakable suspicion toward me.
A dry chuckle escaped my lips. For an old man well past his prime, he certainly had plenty of vigor left in him.
"Hmph."
Gulp.
I took a swig of booze, rolling my eyes in thought. Playing dumb or feigning ignorance wouldn't work. I'd already shown too much of my hand.
"And what if I say no?"
"...I implore you to share it. If for nothing else, then for the sake of mankind."
"...For mankind, huh?"
No doubt the words came from the bottom of his heart. But noble and righteous intentions don't always yield matching results. Most regrettably so.
"...Can't do that."
"Why not? Do you not trust the Church?"
"Well, that's part of it. What you guys showed this time around was pretty pathetic."
"......"
At the sight of the Pope falling grimly silent, Cecilia, standing beside him, began fidgeting anxiously.
"But honestly, that's a minor issue. You’ve realized the problem yourself, so you’ll bend over backwards trying to fix it... right, Your Holiness?"
"That goes without saying. For mankind, and for the will of the Goddess, I must."
The fierce, escalating zeal blazing in his eyes was stifling, so I shook my head. Having played through several Church-related questlines in the game, I knew all too well why you should never get entangled with fanatics. Moderation was completely foreign to them; the moment they latched onto something, they became so blindly extreme that they lost all awareness of their surroundings.
"Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to dump all the info on you and take it easy. What could be better than kicking back in my room puffing smoke and knocking back drinks while the Church busts its ass off my intel to kill the Demon King?"
"Excuse me, how can you speak so—!"
Cecilia flared up in protest, but the Pope held up a hand to stop her and gave me a slight nod, gesturing for me to continue.
"Problem is, there's no way we beat the Demon Realm in an intelligence war. For all we know, they might be eavesdropping on our conversation this very second."
"Wh-What did you say...?!"
Cecilia went pale, anxiously scanning our surroundings. I smirked and gave her shoulder a comforting pat.
"You mean that carelessly disclosing information on the Demon King could be turned against us?"
"That's possible, though less likely. It’s far more probable that the demons, realizing their weaknesses have been exposed, would launch a crazed, preemptive blitz and tear the Church to shreds."
"......"
"You might already know this, Pope... but if they're capable of that, intelligence isn't the only area where we're outmatched. Frankly speaking, the Divine Realm falls short of the Demon Realm in every metric. Resources, numbers, cohesion, and even strategic asymmetric assets. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say it's a miracle the Divine Realm hasn't collapsed already."
The Pope’s expression darkened even further.
...Now, I put it in harsh terms, but things weren't entirely hopeless. If 'every race' in the Divine Realm united with a single will and mobilized their full strength, they could at least balance the scales to a degree. Of course, that wouldn't change the fact that they were still at a disadvantage—and getting 'every race' to form a united front was a pipe dream in itself.
"...All is by the grace of the Goddess. Her divine authority protects us, so there is no need for despair."
Which made his pious retort prompt an involuntary snort from me.
"Haha. You sure about that?"
The moment words hinting at doubt toward the Goddess spilled from my lips, sparks practically flew from the Pope’s eyes.
"Ooh, scorching. Look at that glare—a guy can barely open his mouth without getting incinerated."
"...In any case, your answer is that you cannot hand over the information."
"Spot on. And honestly, it's not like the Church could do much with it anyway."
"...I see. A pity... But so be it. This, too, must be the Goddess’s will. Then we shall take our leave."
"Nothing left to squeeze out, so you’re just packing up and leaving? What stellar character for a Pope. Cecilia, don't you go learning bad habits from him."
"Please stop being so rude to His Holiness...! I'm begging you...!"
"Now you tell me?"
Amused by the sheer panic on her pale face as she worried over me, I laughed and nudged her along.
"Alright, alright, looks like they're rolling out. Better get moving."
"...Yes. Please take care of yourself."
"Heh, you too."
Vwoooom!
At the Pope's signal, a figure wearing the Legendary relic Void Footsteps opened a massive spatial gate in thin air. It was the Church’s fastest method for transporting troops and materiel. The fact that they had rallied this many forces on such short notice was undoubtedly thanks to that artifact.
...Come to think of it, maybe the Church really had given it everything they had. They would have scrambled core personnel stationed across the entire Empire.
"Tsk..."
Man, I wanted those boots so badly... but they'd never part with them, no matter what.
"...Ah, yes. Sir Stanashila Aljen."
"Hm? What?"
"I would like our Mirror of Grudge and Sheath of Time returned."
"...I have no idea what you're talking about."
I averted my eyes and played dumb, but the Pope merely fixed me with a steady, knowing stare.
"Tch. Thought I could sneak that past you. Can’t you just let me keep them?"
"Hahaha. Absolutely not."
"Stingy old geezer. You guys couldn't even use them properly anyway."
"Now that we know how they work, we shall put them to excellent use."
"...Feels like I ought to charge a consulting fee for that intel."
When I narrowed my eyes at him, he pointed at my left arm.
"I believe the relic wrapped around your left arm will suffice as payment."
"Wait, you didn't give me this for free?"
At present, my left arm was tightly bound in soft, snow-white fabric, concealing the demonized limb beneath. It stretched and tightened automatically whenever I flexed the joints, perfectly maintaining its form. It was none other than the Unique-grade relic, the Silk of Atonement.
"Of course not. It was strictly a loan. I had initially intended to bill House Stanasila a rental fee, but it seems there is no longer any need for that."
"...Crafty old fox."
Tallying up the ledger, the Church was actually the one taking a loss on this trade. With nothing left to argue, I let out a sigh.
"Haaah... Muriel."
"Yes, Master."
Drawing the relics from the Subspace Pouch at her waist, Muriel handed them back to the Pope. With a benevolent smile, he offered a formal bow.
"Then, until we meet again, Sir Stanashila Aljen."
"...Right. Thanks for your hard work, Your Holiness."
I tossed out a parting remark laced with mild sarcasm, but he simply nodded without a flicker of emotion before heading over to exchange farewells with Urtega.
"Um, excuse me..."
"Yeah?"
"Sir Aljen. May I... come visit you next time?"
"You? Why?"
I looked at her, puzzled. Cecilia clenched her fists tight, looking up at me with resolute determination.
"I want to talk. With the person that you are."
"...I have no idea what you're scheming, but do whatever you want."
Even if it was a bit early, having the Saintess become close friends with Vivian was a net win anyway.
"You promised, okay? If you tell me you forgot later, I'll be really mad!"
"Yeah, yeah, get going already."
"Ehehe... Then I'll be taking my leave!"
Waving vigorously, she followed the Pope to pay her respects to Weller and Urtega before disappearing beyond the gate along with the rest of the Church's forces.
Lighting a cigarette, I took a deep drag and blew out a thick cloud of smoke, lost in thought for a moment.
On our way back to Terabaon, the ducal capital, a sudden thought struck me and I turned toward Rebecca.
Oh, as a side note, Urtega had already dashed off ahead, claiming that running on foot was faster.
"Rebecca."
"Yes, Sir Aljen?"
She had been staring blankly at the carriage roof before turning to me with listless eyes. Still reeling from the aftermath of the battle against the Demon King, perhaps.
"You and Leona should move into the Duke's Castle."
"...Pardon? So suddenly?"
I nodded at her bewildered reaction.
"It works out much better for you in every way. Leona's safety will be guaranteed, and you can train to your heart's content. Besides, more than anything, having you close by makes it easier to work you to the bone whenever I need to."
"It feels like you're only making this offer because of that last reason..."
She looked at me suspiciously, then gave a faint, resigned smile. She didn't know that, in the original storyline, Leona would be ambushed and slaughtered by demons. Naturally so—I had never told her. So while this offer was meant to prevent the girl I'd gone to such lengths to save from ending up dead, there was no need to spell that out.
"To be honest, I would be grateful. It really is much better for my circumstances, just as you said. But is it really alright to decide something like this so abruptly?"
"What's the problem? Despite how I look, I'm the third son of a ducal house. I can take in a dependent or two whenever I please."
"Oh, please."
Weller, who was playing cards with Vivian beside us, let out a scoffing sneer, which I ignored completely.
"Cacciola. What about you?"
"H-Huh? Me?"
Having watched us nervously from the side, she jumped in surprise when her name was called, hunching her shoulders.
"...C-Can I stay at the castle too...?"
"If you want."
"Th-Then I'll gladly impose on your hospitality."
"Sure. Oh, and about House Belar..."
"Ah, wait! Hold on! About that!"
I looked at her curiously as she waved her hands frantically.
"Could we... put that on hold for a bit?"
"...What?"
I stared at her with wide eyes, unable to believe my ears. Cacciola, who prioritized avenging her family above all else, wanted to put it on hold?
"W-Well, you see... um, I kind of want to enact my revenge with my own hands if possible..."
"Ah."
It seemed she had taken my words about becoming as strong as Urtega straight to heart.
...A bit burdensome, honestly.
"Are you serious? It won't be easy."
"I know. I know, but... my pride won't allow me to leave it to someone else."
A soft chuckle escaped me. Yeah, this was the Cacciola I knew. She'd shown plenty of sides I hadn't recognized up until now, but deep down, she was still that same stubborn girl.
"...Says the girl who was crying and begging to become my slave just for that revenge?"
"Who cried and begged?! I never did that!"
She shrieked at the top of her lungs. Chuckling at her reaction, I took another swig from my bottle.
"Pfft... Well, if that's what you want, I won't butt in. Do as you like."
"Ah, yeah. S-So, about that..."
"What now?"
When I squinted at her suspiciously, she shifted her eyes away and fidgeted with her fingers.
"I'd... like to get some support."
"Well, look at you. You want the castle's finest elixirs, secret arts, training regimens, and personal instruction from the continent's strongest warrior, Stanasila Urtega—is that it?"
"H-Huh? Not the last one...? I wasn't hoping for that much..."
"Can't be helped! If that's what you desire! Though it will be excruciatingly difficult, I shall personally make the request to Father! Fret not! I will do everything within my power for you! Even if I have to piss all over his office floor, I'll get you what you want!"
"I didn't ask for all that?! No, stop! Seriously! Do you want to see me killed?!"
"What?! You're saying you crave Father's teachings even if it costs you your life?! Very well! Your resolve has been carved deeply into my heart!"
"I told you to stop! I was wrong! I'm sorry!"
Ignoring Cacciola as she lunged forward and shook me violently by the collar, I snickered and gulped down more alcohol.
Teasing her was endlessly entertaining. It had a totally different flavor compared to messing with Rebecca. Fresh and distinct.
I'd definitely have to play with her more often in the future.
Entrusting ourselves to the swaying carriage as the days slipped by, we finally arrived at Terabaon.