The Evil God of Darkness (11)
When Ruel entered the dungeon alongside Lucy, what greeted him was the frozen image of a mansion — still as a portrait painted by a master's hand. He had been wondering what this dungeon might hold in store when the first wrongness struck him: Lucy did not exist within that painted scene.
What is this? The girl is standing right here — so why can I not see her?
It was Lucy who delivered the answer to his bewilderment. Dodging the attacks of an enemy she could not see, hear, or feel, she fell back and revealed what lurked throughout this entire dungeon: a disruption of the five senses. One of Tariki's authorities, one that strips away every faculty of perception an opponent possesses — the very power that had once driven the Hero's party to the brink of death. Even after all this time, Ruel remembered the crisis of that day with perfect clarity. Had the Chief God not worked a miracle, Ruel — no, every last member of the Hero's party — would have perished on the spot.
As far as I know, the authority to steal away the five senses ranks among the highest of Tariki's powers. And you mean to tell me a fiend who has not even resurrected yet spread that authority across this entire dungeon? While gravely weakened by the miracle the girl worked, no less? To attempt such a thing, Tariki himself would have to pay a terrible price.
Lucy's words did not need long to be proven true. Before much time had passed — around the moment she claimed victory in battle — a section of the landscape painting melted away, and Ruel's senses came flooding back to him.
The mansion's scenery, wrecked by battle. Lucy forcing her body — one that could have collapsed at any moment — to keep moving. And then, two corpses lying on the floor. The instant he laid eyes on them, Ruel knew for certain: the Evil God of Darkness regarded Lucy as a threat. That he was prepared to pour out everything he had amassed over his centuries of sealing, if only it would break her. And the method the evil god had chosen for her was the worst of all possible ones.
To grind the body to its limit, then gnaw away at the mind to corner the victim further — to force her to her knees. No. This is too much for the girl as she is now. She has not yet been completed as an Apostle. How is a child who stakes her very life because she lacks the confidence to bear a person's death supposed to endure this? How could a child so frail she cannot even weather a false death possibly — how could she possibly endure it?
Lucy, retching on her hands and knees, soon pushed herself upright and made a show of being strong. Don't worry. This is nothing. She smiled as she said it — but Ruel saw the truth beneath the manufactured bravado. Those eyes that could not bring themselves to look down. Her symptoms only worsened the deeper they pressed into the dungeon. The hand gripping the mace trembled. She murmured under her breath, again and again. She grew afraid to take another step forward. Watching Lucy — who had never once lost her poise — crumble piece by piece, Ruel felt as though his heart were being torn apart.
What cut him deepest of all was that Lucy did not stop moving forward. She should have wanted to collapse. She should have been terrified to advance. She should have wanted to burst into tears. And still she walked on, as though this were simply the way things were meant to be. Powerless beneath the weight crushing his own shoulders, the only thing Ruel could do was pray. Let the girl escape this dungeon whole. Grant your blessing to the child who seeks to fulfill your will. Please. Please. Please.
<My girl?>
What is this? What has happened? Why can I not hear your voice?
<Cease your jesting.>
Your defensive arts are renowned across the continent. There is no way one such as you could fail to turn aside an enemy's strike. No warrior as magnificent as you could ever lose their grip on their weapon.
You will be fine. Even if your defense failed. Even if you are in peril — surely, surely you will be fine. Are you not the Apostle of the almighty Chief God? He has watched over you always, and so He will work a miracle. Just as we were watched over in our day, so too shall you be watched over!
<Lucy. I beg of you — answer.>
Surely. Surely it will be so. No — it must be. It simply must.
<Lucyyyyy!>
Ruel screamed Lucy's name until his voice would break, but no answer came. And still he shouted. He had lost his glory. He had lost his body. For one whose wretched soul lingered on only as something bound within a weapon, that was all he had left to give.
...How powerless I am. So terribly powerless.
How long had he been crying out like that? Far away, he felt a warm divinity. A light that could be found no matter how thick the darkness. That, without question, was —
'Grandpa?'
The moment Ruel heard Lucy's voice, he nearly wept aloud. Thank goodness. Truly, thank goodness. Thank goodness you are alive. Suppressing the emotion that kept surging up within him, he asked for her situation. What Lucy described was the worst of all possible scenarios — the hearing that had been his last reliable sense was now meaningless as well.
The instant he heard it, Ruel set his mind racing — searching for a way out of this situation. But nothing came. Even Ruel, who had survived countless brushes with death in ages past, could not conceive of a way through this crisis.
'It's okay, Grandpa.'
And yet, strange to say — the voice of Lucy, the one who had to face this crisis with her own body, was filled with confidence. Nothing like the forced bravado she had worn while fighting through the dungeon. An overflowing certainty that came from believing something with her whole self. Ruel could not understand where that confidence flowed from. But every time she spoke in that voice, she had always shown him something beyond common sense — and so he held his tongue, lest he break her concentration.
Even when Lucy resumed the battle, all that met Ruel's vision was the landscape painting. In the dead silence around him, he could not even grasp what was taking place. But warm divinity reached him from beyond the hand that held him, and so he trusted her, and waited. He endured, believing that the Chief God would protect her back.
Then, at some moment — a portion of the painting that filled Ruel's vision ran and dripped away. Beyond it, he saw Lucy's footsteps. She has not paused her stride for even a moment — so it seems she has managed something. Oh? Now the scenery has vanished once more. This would be the region of her legs, then. Gazing upon a wider stretch of the painting than before, Ruel was soon struck speechless with astonishment.
Lucy was dodging her opponent's attacks. With nothing to see and nothing even to hear, her feet moved with unbroken grace, turning every single strike to nothing.
How... how is this possible? Surely this defies all reason? Evading attacks that can be neither seen nor heard — every one of them! Not even I at my prime could do this. No — not even that monstrous Hero himself could!
This is no mere matter of sharp instinct. Foresight. Yes. Foresight. Nothing short of knowing everything that is yet to unfold could ever make such a thing —
As Ruel wrestled with his astonishment, the surrounding scenery ran and dripped away once more.
"What in the hell are you?! WHAT ARE YOU?!"
What was revealed this time was the enemy's ruined face. Nose bent crooked. Jaw shattered. Struggling even to keep one eye open. That grotesque face, soaked in the blood streaming down from his head, was etched with terror — terror of the thing standing before him.
"Puhaaat♡"
Not long after Ruel beheld him, the scenery dripped away again.
"What do I look like♡"
Those crimson eyes, impossibly vivid despite the blood covering them.
"You can see it, can't you?♡"
That beastlike snarl curling at the corner of her mouth.
"This cute, good little girl right here♡"
Haha. Yes. This. This is what suits you best.
"is the angel who's gonna smash your stupid head open and carry you off to heaven, where your lover is!♡"
You. Lucy — you. This is the face that becomes you most of all.
THWACK!
The mace came down clean, burying itself in Nakrad's face, and the scenery around them collapsed entirely.
"Oh♡ right♡ you're getting thrown into hell, so I guess you'll never meet your lover, ever♡ Honestly, that's better for your lover too♡ That ugly hag would be so creeped out if the trash who dumped her came crawling after her like some perverted stalker♡"
A fresh breeze swept across the meadow, sending the green grass rippling and swaying. After nothing but revolting sights and sensations, scenery like this does wonders for the mood. If only that piece of trash crawling along the ground trying to escape weren't right in front of me, it'd be even better.
I chased down the fleeing wretch as he scrambled however he could to survive, and stomped on the back of his head. A scream leaked out of Nakrad's mouth, but I paid it no mind. I mean, how much could it really hurt, getting stomped by a tiny little girl like me? Total exaggeration. Total.
"I'll... kill you. I swear, I will..."
"AHEM♡ Waaah~♡ So scary~♡ You'd be slightly less ugly if you weren't talking while shaking like a leaf~♡"
"I will... never grant you an easy death..."
Nakrad desperately forced out his voice from beneath my foot, fingers scrabbling at the air. Tariki's power wove together above his palm, trying to take shape.
<My girl! That is the same magic as before! He means to flee!>
'I know.'
<Then why do you stand idle?! You must stop him at once!...>
'I am stopping him.'
Tariki's power scattered apart midway, dissolving into nothing.
'See?'
...Hah. So you had it all planned out.
'Well, obviously. Who do you think I am?'
The panicked Nakrad tried again and again, but the result was the same every time. Tariki's mana gathered and gathered, yet never took form — because Ankir was shining its light on the very spot where it pooled.
"What's the matter?♡ Weren't you going to run away, ugly and filthy, just like when you abandoned your lover?♡"
"...What. What ARE you."
My divinity was laid bare across the ground, so even with Ankir's help, driving off a truly massive surge of power would be impossible. But this — scattering the spell of an exhausted Nakrad who had just dumped every last drop of strength he had left into that berserk rush and burned himself dry — that I could manage just fine.
"Don't tell me you can't even run away anymore?♡ Losing the one thing you were actually good at♡ How sad for you~♡"
The face of Nakrad, who had been swearing his vengeance, gradually flooded with terror. Wasn't it fun when you were tormenting other people? But what's this? Now you're the one getting tormented?
"Y... yes! That's it! You can't kill people! You could never!"
The trembling, terrified Nakrad raised his voice as though he'd just struck upon a stroke of genius.
"Wow, you really are a perverted loser♡ How do you know me so well?♡ Gross♡ I think I'm gonna throw up♡"
"Haha! Yes! A weakling like you could never!"
"Which is exactly why I'm not going to kill you♡"
"...What?"
With my five stolen senses restored, all of my other abilities had returned to normal as well. The Weakness Detection I'd inherited from the skeleton was doing its job too. Hmmm. So if I torment here, and here, this piece of trash gets reeeeally, reeeeally happy about it? Sounds fun~♡
"Nooow then♡"
"No. No. Stop. Stop this."
"It's fun playtime♡ you bottom-feeding loser♡"
Just how sturdy is this toy, I wonder?