A Living God Beheaded
[Hey, who are you? How did you get in here?]
It was a world shrouded in pure white mist.
The ground was cracked and parched, as though a drought had swept through it. And right there, sitting collapsed upon that withered earth, was a woman.
The linen clothes she wore were frayed in places and riddled with holes. A hat woven from dead reeds was pressed down over her head, her skin a warm brown, her figure somewhat plump. Her lips were large and thick.
So that's it.
Because Simon had been through this situation once before, he knew exactly who she was.
An Essence of a Saintess.
Or, to be more precise—
"You're the Essence of Harvest, aren't you?"
She went on staring at him with wary eyes.
Then—
Grrrrumble—
A sound rumbled from her belly. As if moving on pure instinct, she groped at the drought-cracked ground, plucked out a withered sprout, and popped it into her mouth.
Blegh!
She spat the sprout right back out and wailed in sheer misery.
[It tastes awful!]
Simon blinked, nonplussed. ...Huh?
[There's nothing to eat here! Not here! Not there!]
Each time she pointed a finger, the white mist peeled away to reveal more desiccated earth. Withered trees and dead crops, nothing but the bleached bones of animals rolling about in the dust.
[Of all the places I could've ended up, it had to be this one! I'm doomed! Rukia! I miss you!]
Tears streaming down her face, she buried it in her hands. Simon edged back uncertainly.
"Who's Rukia?"
[The child I originally chose.]
Simon immediately thought of the Saintess of Harvest. So her real name was Rukia, apparently.
[When I was inside her, it was a world overflowing with wheat! No meat, sure, but she made bread, made noodles, all of that! And then!]
She cried out as if she'd been terribly wronged.
[Then suddenly that child up and died, and I got pushed outside! Honestly, I'd eaten so much flour I was getting sick of it anyway? And right in front of me was another person who looked perfectly delicious, so I latched onto her! But that girl was all glittering storehouse on the outside—when I got in, there was nothing there! She fooled me!]
Simon's mind worked furiously.
Out of context, none of it made sense—but parsed properly, the Saintess's Essence seemed to be describing how it had passed from the Saintess of Harvest into Ever Kire.
[At least the empty storehouse had rats I could snack on! Then she died too, or whatever, and I got shoved outside again! So I left, right? Except it wasn't the continent I knew! I got trapped in some bizarre world and wandered around lost, and out of everything there, the only girl whose storehouse looked plentiful was the one I dove into. But—!]
Her wailing reached its crescendo.
[It was a dud! A dud! This time it was a necromancer! Aaargh! No matter how hungry I am, that's too far! How could anyone raid a necromancer's storehouse! There's not a single grain of wheat in here, not even one measly rat! It's over for me!]
Bam! Bam!
Without warning, she began hammering her forehead against the animal bones, one after another.
Then she looked up at Simon.
[So what exactly are you?]
That didn't take long to ask.
Simon gave a wry smile and explained the whole story.
"My name's Simon Polentia. For the record, the girl you dove into is named Sasha. And when I took Sasha's hand, this place appeared."
[Oh my—wait, you—!]
She shot up like a spring.
[You have the Qualification!]
Simon's eyes sharpened. It was exactly what she had said back when the Essence of Purification had entered Sasha's body.
—You have the Qualification! I don't know how much you realize what a big deal this is, Simon Polentia, but this is nothing short of a miracle!
Perhaps curiosity had finally gotten the better of her, because the Saintess of Harvest began circling around him, flitting this way and that. She was dizzying to watch, but Simon waited with patience.
[But hold on, this is funny. Why do you get around like a boy?]
"...I'm not getting around like a boy. I actually am a boy."
[Whaaat?]
She hopped backward in alarm.
[Lies! How could a boy possibly—!]
"That's my question too."
Common knowledge held that a Saintess's Essence could only dwell within a woman's body. And yet, inexplicably, Simon was the exception.
[Hmm.]
The Essence of Harvest looked him up and down with skeptical eyes.
[You're really a boy? Can I pull your pants down and check?]
"What is wrong with you?!"
Face flushing red, Simon clutched his waistband and retreated.
A Saintess's Essence, toying with a human being!
[None of that whining in your inner world. Though it is strange, I'll give you that.]
The Essence of Harvest folded her arms and put on a remarkably serious expression.
[A boy with the Qualification. And not just any Qualification—a very special one. Let me take a look... Oh-ho!]
At that moment, her eyes lit up and she walked around behind Simon.
[Someone's already visited here?]
Only then did Simon notice what sat behind him.
A throne of purest white.
It had been carved to look like a flame caught mid-blaze. The Saintess of Harvest ran her palm across it.
[Ah, so this is that one.]
"Yeah. The Essence of Purification."
Currently, it dwelled within Lethe. Calling it the Essence of Purification no longer quite fit, either—it should be the Essence of the Stars now.
While the Essence of Harvest was fiddling with the flame-wrought throne, suddenly—fwap!—an actual fire sprang to life. She snatched her hand back, startled.
[Okay, okay! Touchy much! I'll stop already!]
She said it as if speaking to the throne itself, then straightened up.
[Your power hasn't completely vanished, you know. It's still lingering inside your body, rooted there.]
"Is that so. I suppose that makes sense."
Simon knew this better than anyone—his own mother, Anna, had been through something very similar.
The Essence of Purification, searching for a new host, had taken root in Anna—a former Saintess of Miracles—and the residual Essence of Miracles had nearly collided with it in a dangerous backlash.
So if the Essence of Harvest takes root in me too, will there be a backlash as well?
Simon crossed his arms with a troubled groan.
But there's no time to hesitate.
At this rate, Lethe—who was fighting Ever Kire alone—would die.
Not only that. The people here. And if Roke Island's ruins were made into Ever Kire's "true reality," the consequences would be beyond words. The entire continent would be thrown into peril.
Even a little would do. He needed the strength to fight.
"I have a proposition for you, Essence of Harvest."
Simon held out his hand.
"To bring down the false goddess and Ever Kire—lend me your power."
The moment she saw Simon's outstretched hand, she recoiled, hunching her shoulders in revulsion.
[Uh, I don't care if you have the Qualification... Having something root itself inside a boy's body is just, biologically, it grosses me out.]
"There's already precedent—another Essence has entered my body before. What's the problem?"
[Uuugh, I know, but it's weird! It's a little—no, a LOT weird!]
"Then are you planning to stay here forever, gnawing on rotten roots?"
Perhaps Simon had struck the exact right nerve, because she scratched her head furiously, her face twisted in anguish.
[...Fine. It can't be helped. But you said it was a deal, right?]
The Saintess of Harvest took Simon's offered hand, then walked back behind him.
She stopped beside the throne the Essence of Purification had left, turned to face it, and mimed the motion of sitting down.
Rumble.
A new throne materialized in that spot.
A white throne wrought from grass and trees and grain.
[I have conditions too. Will you hear them?]
Simon nodded readily.
"Of course. That's what a deal is."
At that same moment, on Roke Island.
Outside the Balkeje Arena.
With the closing ceremony just ahead, every student in the department was running their morning matches.
"......"
Kazhan wore a complicated expression as he made his way across the grounds.
Then he checked the watch on his wrist yet again.
The regular reports from Simon have stopped coming in.
Simon was currently competing in the Balkeje Arena as well.
Still, Simon had been assigned to escort the Saintess personally instead of the regular agents, so he'd promised to send reports even in the middle of his matches.
Yet no matter how long Kazhan waited, nothing came through.
Has something gone wrong?
Kazhan lifted his communication crystal as he walked toward the Balkeje Arena.
"This is K-1. Confirm the status of the Saintess inside the Balkeje Arena."
Kzzt!
-This is HO. Out of nowhere? What's this about?
The voice of a necromancer agent crackled through the crystal.
-The Saintess in the arena? The Saintess of Harvest is in the cave. Still hasn't moved an inch.
"I'm not talking about the Saintess of Harvest. The one who came in recently—"
That instant, Kazhan's words froze solid.
What am I even saying right now?
The one who came in recently... who?
-Haha! What on earth are you on about? Are you saying Kizen has two Saintesses now? Well, that would be quite the emergency.
"......"
Only one Saintess had crossed over to Roke Island.
The Saintess of Harvest had fallen to Ever Kire, and Aleister's team had continued the search on their own ever since.
And yet—
I was trying to contact Simon.
He raised his wrist.
Because I believed Simon was with the Saintess... is that why?
Kzzt!
Skzt!
In that instant, an image flickered through his mind—ash-gray hair swirling in the wind.
A strange sense of déjà vu.
Kazhan pressed his palm hard against his forehead.
A second Saintess? Who?
Kzzt!
Skzt!
Kazhan doggedly chased the thought down, and soon a fragment of a voice cut in and out of his mind.
-What's going on, Simon? Why are you alone?
-Lethe—!
A conversation with Simon surfaced faintly in his memory.
It was a memory that had never existed before. Like his mind recoiling in desperation from a memory it should never have recovered, it kept trying to veer away—but Kazhan threw his transcendent focus into the thought.
-No, the Saintess has vanished! This note—!
Kzzt!
Skzt!
-Getting reckless even after your own senior already fell victim, I see.
When the recollection ended, Kazhan's eyes snapped wide open.
Who's Lethe? If that "senior" means the Saintess of Harvest, then her replacement really did come here?
Maybe it was nothing more than a pointless delusion. Maybe he was just exhausted, dredging up some half-remembered dream from the depths of his subconscious.
But.
The enemy he was hunting right now was Ever Kire.
And the moment he recalled what her ability was—
—!!
A shiver of gooseflesh ran down his entire body.
"Damn it all! Did he already fall victim to that woman?!"
Ever Kire's erased and distorted memories existed. The instant that fact became clear to him, Kazhan slammed his foot into his Jet-Black and sprinted for the Balkeje Arena where Simon was.
"This is K-1! I need a specific document, right now!"
-This is HO. Go ahead.
The key is Simon.
Welding together the memories surfacing at the edges of his mind: a second Saintess had entered Roke Island. Her name was Lethe.
She was a key protection target who traveled at Simon's side—and since Simon was with her, he should have been filing regular reports. But those reports had stopped.
So the last place Simon had been—
"I need the files on the sixteenth arena, the Balkeje Arena!"
-Okay. Just that one? With Lord Aleister's clearance it's easy. Ten minutes.
Kazhan ran hard in the meantime and reached the Balkeje Arena.
He entered at maximum tension, half expecting Ever Kire to be lying in ambush—but the arena looked utterly ordinary.
Crowds were cheering in the stands, students were running their matches in earnest. Among them, Simon was visible too.
Is it simply that his matches are so intense he couldn't report in? No. No way.
Kazhan sniffed at the air.
Faint, but there's blood. And...
The fine hairs on his body rose one after another. They didn't stand straight—they curled and twisted like corkscrews. There was only one thing that caused this reaction.
Divinity.
Ever Kire had unquestionably done something to this arena.
Kazhan strode from the stands down toward the arena floor.
-This is HO. I found the documents, but—there's definitely something strange here.
"Report."
-There are two administrative orders on record. A rejection order for the Balkeje Arena, and a usage-permit order for the Balkeje Arena.
"A rejection order and a permit order can't possibly exist at the same time."
-I asked the clerks and they all just tilted their heads? They said they had no idea why documents like that are still on file. Even the officials who issued the rejection order can't remember why they did. So it just got brushed under the rug.
"Doesn't that strike you as odd?"
-Of course it's odd, but did you turn anything up?
Kazhan tapped his temple.
"If you have a brain, use it. Who is it we're up against?"
-Look, I honestly have no idea what you're—ah! Lord Aleister!
Click.
The sound of the communication crystal changing hands.
-So Ever Kire has already made her move. The reason the Balkeje Arena was hidden away is because it's the target site.
Aleister's deep, measured voice came through.
-I was listening to your report from the side. A second Saintess, of all things... how very intriguing.
Kazhan allowed himself a small smile.
"It's a relief to speak with someone who understands. But do you believe me?"
-I have no choice but to.
A current of barely suppressed fury ran beneath Aleister's voice.
-We have pursued her all this time grounded in the most rational, modern investigative methodology there is—and we have gained nothing. So we must change our entire way of thinking. We will have to accept the irrational and the insane as truth.
The corner of Kazhan's mouth curled upward.
"Excellent."
-Are you on-site?
"Yes."
Kazhan reported the situation at the Balkeje Arena in meticulous detail, and the moment Aleister heard it, he had a plan.
-There will be spectators nearby, yes?
Kazhan turned his head, crystal in hand.
A middle-aged man stood there, cheering fervently as he watched the students' matches.
"Yes. There is a strange sense of wrongness about him."
-Make contact.
Kazhan placed a hand on the spectator's shoulder.
Tap!
"He's solid. Apparently not just a bodiless illusion, then."
-As expected. Apply stimulus and observe the reaction.
Kazhan poured strength into his hand.
Crrruuunch—
It was force enough to dislocate a shoulder—but the spectator showed not a flicker of pain. He went right on smiling, right on cheering for the match.
"......Damn it."
-I can tell without looking. This matches Case Six among Ever Kire's known incidents. All analysis is complete. Give me your coordinates.
No sooner had Kazhan relayed his position over the comm than—
Vuuuum!
A smooth magic circle unfolded in the empty air, and a single bag dropped neatly to the ground. One of Aleister's abilities.
Inside was a handle fitted with a switch.
-An artifact for cleaving through illusion barriers.
Shring!
Kazhan flicked the switch, and a blade of pure mana shot out.
-Can you sense the divinity?
"Yes—if the priest isn't deliberately concealing it, that is."
Kazhan rolled up his sleeves and raised his arms. The hair on his forearms bristled and began twisting into corkscrews.
-Excellent. Then I'll tell you your task. We're departing immediately as well.
The moment Aleister's orders ended, Kazhan plunged straight into the center of the arena.
Even though he had barged into the arena without warning, the spectators went on blithely ignoring him.
There. Where the divinity is strongest!
Kazhan raised both arms and extended his claws. Drawing in every drop of Jet-Black he could muster, he swung down at the statue spouting water in the middle of the arena.
⟨ Kazhan Original – Rend ⟩
ShaaaAAAAAA—!
As the X-crossed blades carved through the air, the scenery of the arena began to warp and split.
And into the crack that split the sky—
WHOOSH!
He threw the artifact. Its blade spun round and round, driving itself into the fissure—
KOOOOOOM!
With the sound of the statue collapsing, Kazhan witnessed it.
This is—!
The curtain of distortion peeled away, revealing an arena that was utterly empty—not a single living soul could be sensed anywhere within it.
Scattered everywhere were the traces of chaos. Objects strewn in wild disarray, exploded stands, the scars of battle gouged across the floor.
"Ever Kire took Simon and everyone here with her."
KeeeEEEEEEING!
KeeeEEING!
Just then, Jet-Black magic circles began etching themselves across the arena floor.
Kazhan stepped back and waited, and the instant the circles completed, a group of people burst out from within them.
"Good work, Kazhan."
It was Aleister and his subordinates. The sight of Aleister, face crimson, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, was deeply unfamiliar.
"How did it go?"
"We were a step too late. Ever Kire has already crossed into another branch point, taking Simon, the second Saintess, and the spectators with her."
"I can hardly believe an ability like this exists in the world."
Aleister paced about irritably, even as he spread Jet-Black magic circles in every direction.
It was no idle gesture.
Watching only the way the circles' colors bled and spread, Aleister distinguished with pinpoint precision the exact locations where Ever Kire had used her power in this arena—and even the types of formulas she had invoked.
"An enemy without precedent. What's already happened is beyond our reach, but we must do what we can do. This may be our one and only chance to strike back."
Aleister's expression grew grave.
"Somehow, we have to send aid to that 'other side.'... Kazhan? Where are you going?"
Kazhan was sniffing at the air as he rummaged through the wreckage of the Balkeje statue he himself had brought down.
Then he pulled something out of the debris.
"It looks like an invincible ability, sure."
What he held aloft was an artifact radiating divinity.
Kazhan's eyes glinted, sharp and cold.
"But there is definitely a weakness."
At that same moment.
The other Roke Island was a paradise of stars.
Around the island floating in the sky, stars poured down from east and west, colliding and erupting in an endless cascade.
"Ugh!"
Lethe, fighting with both arms flung outstretched, staggered with a pained grunt.
Then she glanced to the side and shouted.
"Simon! How long are you going to sleep?! Hurry up and get u— AH!"
KWAAA-KWAAA-KWAAA!
One of the goddess's stars came plummeting down beside Lethe, gouging out a massive crater. The shockwave hurled her skyward, and she rolled senselessly across the ground.
Haah.
Pushing herself up out of the dirt, Lethe wore a dazed expression. Even the minimum divinity needed to call down stars had run dry.
And above all, on this side, she couldn't attack the goddess directly.
She thrust her trembling arms out in front of her.
To think I'd die in a place like this—and in the very heart of the necromancers, no less.
No—now was not the time for self-pity.
"I can still keep go—!"
FWAAAAAAA—!
As if answering her resolve, a dazzling pillar of light erupted skyward from Simon's body.
"Oh, seriously! What took you so lo— Si..."
Her eyes went wide.
"...mon?"
Simon's body was transforming.
His hair turned a pristine, snow-white, and his irises flooded with gold. A moment later, his academy uniform was being enveloped in white.
It was the Holy Saintly Robe—the symbol of a Saintess.
And that very robe was now wrapping itself around the body of a necromancer. Lethe's eyes blazed upward.
...Am I dreaming?
Swish.
Slide.
Simon kicked off his shoes and planted his bare feet against the earth.
From that alone, a staggering torrent of energy flowed into him. Like a tree drinking water through its roots, his bare soles drank the divinity straight out of the ground.
Not stopping there, he swept his arm wide.
FWOOSH—!
Across all of Roke Island, the wheat fields swayed violently. Grains of divine wheat rose into the air like fireflies, then came flooding down toward Simon in a golden torrent.
VUUUUUUM!
Simon's body was wreathed in countless radiant lights.
[What trickery is this!]
With Ever Kire's scream, the false goddess rained stars down upon Simon.
Simon did not dodge. He simply lifted his head.
KUUUUUUM!
A colossal barrier of divinity unfurled directly in front of him. The stars that crashed against it crumbled or ricocheted away.
"That is genuinely beyond ridiculous!"
Lethe shrieked in disbelief. That was unmistakably the Bulwark of the Earth—the signature defense of the Saintess of Harvest.
A man—and a necromancer, of all people—wielding a Saintess's power!
At this point, believing Ever Kire's distorted world to be the real one would have been more plausible than the reality before her eyes.
Shrrk.
Simon stretched his arm back behind him. Divinity rippled in his grip and hardened into a handle. It stretched endlessly to the side, and then, at its far end, an immense blade took form.
An alien edge forged of a substance that did not exist in this world. That pure-white blade was the very embodiment of the divine authority Simon wrought with the power of the Essences.
The scythe, unable to contain its own size, sank through the ground and kept growing without end.
"Here I go."
Gathering every scrap of divinity, Simon bent his knees.
And then—
The instant his foot kicked off the ground, the bedrock of Roke Island itself was torn loose, and Simon's body vanished.
[...!]
Ever Kire whipped her head around in a daze. The false goddess rolled her eyes, searching for Simon's position—
"Don't. Move."
Shring.
The goddess froze mid-motion.
The boy with white hair streaming like flame was already perched on her shoulder.
One hand gripped the scythe's handle, and its blade rested just beneath the goddess's chin.
For all the world like a blade held to her throat in threat.
[You dare!]
Ever Kire erupted in fury.
[A mere human dares to behead a god—and with divinity itself, no less!]
The goddess's arm rose up to seize Simon.
"I said don't move."
Simon pulled, his face utterly expressionless.
End of Life
It was silent.
The white scythe was drawn without a sound, without a trace—
Shrrk.
The goddess's head, resting upon the scythe's edge, was severed—
And until it fell like something plunging into the depths of the sea—
As though the world itself had stopped, no one could move.
[NoooooOOOOO!]
The boy—
had beheaded a living god.