Chapter 263: A Half-Confession
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 263: A Half-Confession
The fate of a prophet is disbelief.
In myths, legends, and fairy tales, prophecies are never heeded. Warned to avoid danger, people are drawn to it like magnets. Advised to follow a revelation, they scoff and trample upon it.
Zigrund, convinced I was a prophet, began to sow disbelief among my friends.
“Look. Huey saw through the Six Generals’ strategy and my disguise in an instant. So why didn't he stop the tragedy of Hamelin? With his abilities and knowledge, he should have been able to see through Nicholas’s plan beforehand.”
“That’s sophistry…!”
“Let’s start from the beginning. Why did Nicholas try to commit an Anathema? Because for all his potential, Huey lacked talent. And who was most active when Nicholas was about to commit that Anathema? Huey, who led you all to defeat Nicholas. And as a result, Huey even succeeded in planting a bomb named Historia deep within the Military State’s core. He turned someone who would betray the State at the most critical moment out of personal sentiment into one of the Six Generals!”
Shiati had already been freed. Yet, she made no move to attack him, instead staring blankly at me. Her face was a mask of anguish, as if the emotions were caught in her throat, unable to be shaped into words.
It’s working. No, of course it is. Prophets have always been targets of hatred and persecution. That only changed when the Sanctum rose to power…
Confirming that his intentions had taken root, Zigrund smirked and continued.
“Now. The logic is simple! If the Pied Piper possesses a power close to omniscience or foresight, or even an intuition that borders on it, why did he let the children of Hamelin die? Why didn't he realize the Chief Instructor’s plan to commit an Anathema beforehand? Obviously, it's because he intended for all of it to happen! There's no other explanation!”
“No!”
Historia was in a relatively better state.
Her regret was directed at herself for not being able to act back then. Whether I was the cause or not, her guilt stemmed from letting a tragedy she could have prevented unfold.
But to say her feelings toward me were the same as before would be a lie.
“Don’t listen! This is his scheme! He’s trying to cause internal division!”
“A plan that began long before my scheme. Or should I call it fate? Before you take issue with me, shouldn’t you be questioning him, Historia?!”
Historia shouted, trying to drown out Zigrund’s voice. But Zigrund’s stage-trained voice was not so easily silenced. As his words continued to pierce her ears, Historia grabbed me, exasperated.
“Huey! Hurry, tell me! You were just caught up in it, right?!”
Even Historia, who wanted to believe in me, couldn't erase the creeping suspicion. The gazes of resentment and distrust began to pour down on me. It was a swamp of doubt from which there was no escape, whether I remained silent or opened my mouth to speak.
Honestly, I was caught up in it. But I’d had plenty of chances to avoid it and countless ways to run.
Still, I had remained in Hamelin. I had followed Nicholas’s plan, knowing he would lead the children to their deaths.
Because.
“I was caught up in it. He’s not wrong. I knew about Nicholas’s plan.”
“…Huey?”
“But I went along with it. Because that was Nicholas’s wish.”
Historia flinched at my distinctly changed demeanor and took a step back. I moved past her, taking a step forward.
Toward Shiati, who was beyond confused and now gripped by terror, and toward the gleeful Zigrund.
So you’ve finally decided to talk? Yes, it would be difficult to get out of this without revealing something now. For you, who has achieved your goals solely by using the power of others, losing their trust would be fatal!
He’s right. But there’s one thing he’s wrong about.
Whatever Zigrund might guess, I am, in fact, just an ordinary person who can read minds a little. I know nothing of grand Arcane powers like prophecy.
But there’s no need to be completely honest. Do you know how I survived in Tantalus?
“Mr. Zigrund. Why do you think I left Nicholas alone until he committed the Anathema? Would you care to take a guess?”
“To fulfill the prophecy, of course.”
“No. It was because he, too, deserved a chance to fulfill his wish.”
“…His wish?”
Yes, his wish.
Nicholas was certainly a calculating man who looked down on anyone beneath his standards, but until that incident, he had been a kind instructor to me. Committing the Anathema was his way of forcing the stage, of dirtying his own hands.
Ah, of course, I’m not grateful at all. He was simply being true to his own desires.
“He wanted to contribute to the Military State. He tried to forcibly grant me power, believing that if I just increased the magnitude of my strength, I could aim for the Six Generals, or perhaps even higher.”
“But you didn’t accept it. Because the Sanctum rejects the existence of Anathemas.”
“No. That’s not it. It wasn’t because it was an Anathema, but because it would have changed me. As someone with a homeostasis to maintain, I had to resist it. So I joined forces with friends who shared the same goal and stopped him.”
Nicholas lacked the power to see his will through. And so, he was defeated. The children had won an inspiring victory against their instructor.
“But despite their victory, the children lost what they wanted. They participated in the graduation practical exercise to be recognized by this country, only to realize that the country had abandoned them. They all came to resent and hate the Military State.”
Zigrund’s smile slowly faded.
“…So, you came to tear down the Military State as they wished?”
“No. Very few people can wish to tear down a country. A country is too vast, too invisible to be seen at a glance, so the person themselves doesn’t even know what it is. How can you hate something you don’t know? In a kingdom, you could just strike down the king, but the Military State doesn’t even have a king.”
“Then what? What was their wish?”
“The most irresponsible, most burdensome wish in the world.”
And also the most common. I lowered my eyes and murmured.
“Even as they were dying, they simply wished to be remembered.”
Even if they chose to die, having lost the will and strength to live on, they hoped their deaths would not be meaningless. They wanted someone to understand their suffering and despair.
“But there is no heaven or hell in this world. The afterlife does not exist. Naturally, besides themselves, there is no one to remember them.”
Death is the end. There is nothing beyond it. Death is just another name for cessation.
It is a natural result, like a rolling stone stopping when it hits something, or a floating cloud turning into raindrops and falling. No, it is nature itself.
Any metaphysical or surreal meaning forcibly attached to it is a delusion that doesn't even qualify as an illusion.
And yet, I cannot forsake even that wish.
“I am the world’s smallest ossuary. A library that commemorates the forgotten.”
I remember everyone I have passed by. Because that was their wish.
Death holds no meaning, so the cry of being prepared for death is just a hollow excuse. An empty promise no one intends to repay.
But on one side, someone is slowly repaying that irresponsible debt. Because it is a wish.
“The Pied Piper.”
I led the wandering children and taught them how to fight against a formidable enemy. And I remember the dead children, repeating their stories.
“The Magi From the East. The Passing Scholar. The Wandering Mercenary. The Reclusive Sage. The Mendicant Monk. The Traveler. I have been called by such names.”
A desire to be fulfilled even if it means committing an Anathema, crossing a taboo, breaking a prohibition.
A character who whispers of ways to achieve what cannot be achieved through ordinary means. A character who might appear in a fairy tale, a play, a legend, an epic, or any story.
“I’m an ordinary person.”
I didn’t tell the whole truth, but everything I said was true. No matter how much he doubts or digs, he won’t find a contradiction.
Ultimately, unable to find any inconsistencies, Zigrund tentatively concluded that my words were the truth.
There are a few similar legends. A chest that brings nightmares, a lamp that grants wishes… But can a single human being possess that kind of Arcane?
My identity is that of a mind reader. Because I face the raw desires of humans, I grant those wishes if I can. Only if I can, of course.
So, if I hide the fact that I’m a mind reader and emphasize that point, it’s not exactly a lie.
Zigrund, still clinging to his earlier assertions, tested me.
“…You’re not a prophet sent by the Sanctum?”
“How could I be a prophet? After the Saintess of Origin was crucified, only a Saintess can prophesize. How could I, a man, possibly do so?”
“That’s easy enough to fabricate. The Saintess could be pulling the strings from behind, or you could be acting on her revelations. Or you could have faked your gender through some means. There are many ways to deceive.”
Whether it was because of his own Bone Shifting Technique or an occupational hazard, he had a rather open mind. If a Regressor were here, they would've found out I was a woman in disguise.
“Wow, you think I’m actually a woman, and a Saintess at that? From my perspective, that last option is the most appealing! I’ve always wanted to experience having a woman’s body at least once in my life! Ah!”
I clapped my hands as if I’d just remembered something and pointed at Zigrund.
“Come to think of it, there’s someone with experience changing bodies right in front of me. A moment ago you were Historia, then you switched to Kerapald’s girl, right? How did it feel when you became a man? No, should I ask how it felt to be a woman? Mr. Zigrund, what is your original form?”
“…Normally, I wouldn’t reveal it, but there’s no point in hiding it from you. Besides, it’s not polite to wear the face of a dead friend.”
Muttering something that made me question if he was even human, he covered his face with his palm and shifted his bone structure. With a crunching sound, the bones and muscles held in place by his Qi were rearranged. His hair turned jet black from the roots.
Returning to his ‘original form’ was several times faster and more natural than transforming. It was likely because he constantly reminded himself of his ‘original form.’
A man with an impeccably neat, almost model-like impression appeared. The term ‘ordinary-looking’ suited him perfectly; he was like a blank canvas, and not in a good way. His height was average. His build was slightly thin. This was the ‘original form’ that kept flickering in my mind whenever I read Zigrund’s thoughts…
“Don’t try to fool me now. How is that your original form?”
…It was not.
“A featureless face. Average height. A moderately thin body. A master of Qi Arts looks like that? No way. No matter how I look at it, that’s just the default setting for an Archaic Avatar, isn’t it?”
Zigrund replied instantly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is me, Zigrund, one of the Six Generals of the Military State, in my original form.”
“Ah. So that’s the setting?”
Humans don’t picture their own faces in their minds. Because their face, their body, is always there.
Paradoxically, the reason Zigrund constantly repeated his identity to himself, reminding himself of his original body so as not to forget it, was…
“Then what about before you became one of the Six Generals? What name and face did you live with then? No, what was your face before you learned the Bone Shifting Technique?”
A muscle in Zigrund’s face twitched. The blank face contorted, painting a picture of displeasure. It was, admittedly, a face perfectly suited for display.
Which is why it couldn’t possibly be real.
I wiped the smile from my face and pressed him.
“Just who are you?”