Adaptation (6)
"Are you planning to head to the Art Cult?"
Perhaps because I'd been frowning openly, there was a cautious edge to Alsaetin's voice.
"Of course. I can't exactly sit back and watch these perverted bastards do something this brain-dead."
"Brain-dead... behavior?"
"Yeah. Brain-dead behavior."
When I threw the paper in my hand down onto the desk and declared it so, Alsaetin's expression turned dubious.
"Might I hear your reasoning?"
"What else would you call a plan that walks into its own death with both feet?"
The place the Art Cult was heading toward was, without question, a trap. The followers of multiple evil gods had gathered there and built something utterly vicious.
That wasn't a dungeon you could brute-force through with a desperate struggle. It was a hell soaked in malice, designed to kill anyone who fell into the trap without exception.
If marching into that place of your own free will isn't brain-dead, then what is?
"This is a trap?"
Alsaetin's eyes went wide, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"The intelligence was cross-verified by interrogating the followers of other evil gods based on what Nakrad leaked."
"Haah. Honestly, with an intellect this low. Why don't you go crawl on the ground with Jackal next to Karia right now? That seems about fitting for your level."
It dawned on me, fresh as ever, that the people living in this world simply didn't understand how the followers of the evil gods operated.
If they understood the mindset driving those people, they'd know there was no way the madmen serving the evil gods would ever sell out their own faction.
"Listen carefully. I don't want to waste any more time on a hopeless fool like you."
The evil god factions within Soul Academy were far more tightly knit than anyone realized.
Unlike the various churches, who squabbled amongst themselves to grow their own power bases in the light of day, the evil gods' followers had banded together to survive persecution.
Each of them served a different god, but that single shared trait—having to live with their identities hidden—was what bound them together.
And that was precisely why the followers of the evil gods would never betray another faction.
Those pursuing the dream of the evil gods' resurrection considered each other collaborators.
They valued the dream their god's resurrection would fulfill more highly than any suffering they might endure in this world.
The fanatics who became evil god followers for their own reasons would gladly lay down their lives for a dream that would surely come true, even if they themselves died.
Nakrad was no different. After his wife's death, he had thrown himself into the evil god's faction—and to him, a world without his wife held no particular value.
What he longed for was, above all else, his wife, waiting for him beyond death.
And that man betrayed the evil god faction to save his own skin? Leaked information knowing full well it would keep him from ever meeting his wife again?
Not a chance. That man would sooner die than give up his chance to reunite with her.
Having listened to my entire explanation, Alsaetin blinked several times before posing another question.
"I understand now how the evil gods' followers think. But then why do Nakrad's words match those of the other followers?"
"Are you a goldfish? I told you this already—why can't you get it through your head? Idiots following an idiot love licking each other's wounds, that's why."
They'd even coordinated in advance on what false information they'd feed anyone who captured them. Naturally, the same story came out of every mouth.
"...Ah! Of course!"
Only then did Alsaetin pull a notebook from inside his coat, cross-checking this and that before letting out a cry of realization.
He had finally noticed that something was off.
How strange. The Alsaetin in the game had caught on to the oddity the moment he saw the intelligence aligning too perfectly—so why couldn't the real Alsaetin do the same? Some kind of aftershock from Karia's return?
"Understood. I shall deliver this news to the Art Cult at once."
"Information peddler. Don't get ahead of yourself."
The reason I stopped Alsaetin from going alone was simple: he lacked the authority his words carried.
If a mere information broker like him claimed the plan was compromised, how seriously would the Art Cult actually take it?
But I was different. If I—the goddess beloved by the Goddess of Crows—delivered the warning directly, the Art Cult would revise their plans on the spot.
"Drop the attitude and just scurry along behind me. Understood?"
"Then I shall have everything prepared for the departure to the Art Cult."
After parting with Alsaetin, I told my friends to disperse.
Each of us would head home, rest up, and meet again at the Academy.
They reacted in their own varied ways, but they were unanimous on one point: a break was welcome. We'd been on a near-month-long forced march, after all—this was only natural.
The people of the Lise territory were equally thrilled by our departure.
Having been dragged, half against their will, into our relentless round-the-clock dungeon clearances, they practically wept with joy when we announced we were leaving.
Watching them, I wondered if I hadn't been a little too thoughtless toward these people. Thanks to the Mesugaki Skill, I couldn't have offered an apology or a word of thanks even if I'd wanted to.
In any case, having escaped the Lise territory, I didn't head straight for the Art Cult—I stopped by House Alrn first.
I didn't need rest. Compared to all the training I'd put myself through, that recent grunt work was nothing. I'd only taken it easy out of consideration for my friends, anyway.
No, the real reason I sought out House Alrn was that I needed someone to hold back the Art Cult's perverts for me.
I still remembered the day I'd contacted the Pervert Apostle through the crystal orb.
The day all sorts of bizarre characters had materialized behind him and started dueling each other for the right to come meet me.
Heading to the Art Cult meant wading straight into the middle of that mob of perverts—and I had zero confidence in handling it alone!
I needed at least someone to keep those degenerates from getting close to me! My ideal candidate was Forsell.
He might fall short of Benedict, but I judged that a man of his considerable reputation and martial prowess could restrain the Art Cult's perverts without much trouble.
"I'm sorry, my lady. My heart aches to refuse, but with the Lord away from the estate, I cannot leave as well."
Alas, my hopes crumbled against the wall of reality.
Dammit! If Forsell were here, I could have kept those repulsive freaks at bay!
In the end, the party accompanying me to the heart of the Art Cult turned out much the same as always.
Carl, my bodyguard knight. The Bald Knight, trailing after him like a set-menu side dish. Erin, to handle all the miscellaneous odds and ends. And the Face-Connoisseur Fox, who was steadily recovering her vigor now that spring was approaching.
"Fear not, Lucy! I shall keep every other pervert from drawing near! Those insolent wretches! When it comes to degenerates around you, I alone am more than enough!"
I had plenty to say in response to the Face-Connoisseur Fox's nonsense, but I held my tongue. I might as well be satisfied that she'd admitted to being a pervert herself. Otherwise, I'd only be the one worn down for it.
Thus assembled, we headed for the place where Alsaetin had said he would be waiting.
"Lady Alrn, a small problem has arisen. The Art Cult says they cannot accept teleportation of outsiders into their domain."
Given the place's notoriously insular tendencies, it wasn't a strange development, so I answered without much deliberation.
"Information peddler. Tell those perverted bastards my name."
"Pardon?"
"If I tell you to do it, do it. My brain works better than that rusty, decrepit thing you call a head."
Though he tilted his head in evident confusion, Alsaetin did as I instructed.
"...Huh. Clearance granted."
I sent Alsaetin and the other knights through the teleportation circle first, then stepped through toward the heart of the Art Cult myself.
Seeing the blue light bloom around me, I closed my eyes—and the vertigo of teleportation washed over me.
Back in the old days, I couldn't endure it and collapsed in a heap, but not anymore. My stomach still churned and my head still throbbed, but it no longer put me on the floor.
Gulping down air and steadying myself, I cautiously lifted my eyelids. And then, seeing the teeming horde of Art Cult members swarming beyond the barrier formed by Carl and the Bald Knight, I closed my eyes again.
...Something's wrong. I think I saw something I wasn't supposed to see.
Had exhaustion piled up inside me without my noticing?
Had I passed out somewhere along the way, and was I now trapped in some strange dream?
"KYAAAAH! She's SO beautiful!"
"Lady Alrn! Please, wave to us just once!"
"You mean this work of art was hoarded by the Apostle all to himself this whole time!?"
"Haaah. Should I die today, I would die without regret..."
"So this is what the Goddess incarnate looks like."
"Huaaang. Too beautiful, far too beautiful."
As the voices seeped into my ears, I began—little by little—to regret ever coming to this place.
If I'd known it would be like this—no, I had known it would be like this, but if I'd anticipated it would be this bad, I wouldn't have come at all. I would've dumped the whole thing on Alsaetin and stayed home.
Should I turn back now? Shove the whole mess off onto Alsaetin?
Amid those scattered thoughts, I forced myself to steel my heart and raised my eyelids once more.
Sensing the crude, base desires swirling in the countless gazes fixed upon me, I felt something flutter faintly in my chest.
Come to think of it, was there really any need to dread these perverts? There were no easier toys to play with than them.
They weren't like the Face-Connoisseur Fox or the Pervert Apostle, opponents I couldn't beat with raw power. If things truly got revolting, I could simply drive them off.
Once my perspective shifted, those repulsive degenerates began to look less like a threat and more like playthings.
Hmm. I've been nothing but the victim all this time, haven't I?
So why don't I return a little of that accumulated grudge to these pathetic pieces of trash?