Year's End

"Uh..."

Words failed him.

He had no close gods he could turn to, and knew little of the others. How could he possibly press for an answer?

"...I see."

But when he thought about it, the situation made sense.

Among all the gods who had risen to heaven, only a tiny handful held seats in the assembly. By contrast, the vast majority of heavenly deities possessed no seats at all, and many of them surely had no believers either. The lack of a seat meant weakened authority, and weakened authority inevitably drove believers away.

Even so, most of those gods remained in heaven.

Unlike the rest, only the Central Magic Tower Lord had chosen to descend to the mortal world. There had to be a reason.

A heavy silence settled over the tower lord's office. The tower lord spoke, sounding almost defensive.

"Of course, it's not only me. Mages have always kept a certain distance even in heaven. You know how it is. Mages were never particularly devout to begin with. So when someone comes from a mage background, the gods can't help but look at them a little sideways."

"...That makes sense."

"Besides, we mages don't force ourselves on others. It's far better to pour that time into research than into relationships. A touch of solitude is simply a mage's nature—an old, familiar companion, if you will."

"I understand."

The Central Magic Tower Lord offered every justification he could for his lack of friends, yet no matter how Elbridge turned it over, the words still sounded like excuses.

Still, pointing that out would only sour the mood, so Elbridge simply nodded along in polite silence.

'When I first met him I thought he carried real weight and dignity...'

Somehow his manner of speech had grown more casual since then as well.

At any rate, the tower lord seemed satisfied by their reactions. He turned to Rombel with a faintly pleased expression.

"Now then, it is time to answer your question, Rombel. You asked about ascension, yes?"

"That's right."

"Ascension... Give me a moment. I must decide how much I am permitted to say."

The Central Magic Tower Lord folded his arms and paced the length of his office several times before finally stopping.

"Very well. The first ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thing you should know is that even I do not know everything about ascension."

In other words, while he might not know all of it, he knew a very great deal.

"Tell me whatever you can."

"As you no doubt already understand, the decision to accept a new god into heaven is made by vote among the existing deities. If the candidate receives agreement from more than half of all seats, they may ascend."

"Who exactly is the vote held for?"

"That is precisely what I wish to explain. Those subject to the vote are commonly called ascension candidates. And the selection of those candidates is not a right granted to ordinary gods."

Rombel's eyes widened. This was the exact information he had most wanted to hear.

"Then who selects them?"

"The Lord God decides. Yet what criteria the Lord God uses to choose ascension candidates remains unknown to me."

"Have you no further advice that might prove useful?"

"Well. Accomplishing great deeds that might draw the Lord God's attention, or demonstrating truly exceptional ability, would certainly help."

"Attention..."

Even if the information was incomplete, Rombel's face brightened considerably. His position was far better ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠than Elbridge's, who had learned nothing at all about Leonhardt.

Moreover, the tower lord was not yet finished.

"There is one more crucial piece of information I wish to give you."

"What is it?"

"The number of divine seats in heaven is fixed, and ascension grows more difficult with each passing era. In the distant past—before I myself had even ascended, and compared to a time far older than that—the present situation is..."

Elbridge caught a faint undercurrent of anger and deep agitation in the tower lord's voice.

Strangely, the Central Magic Tower Lord was not looking at Rombel, the one who had asked the question, but at Elbridge himself. There was a trace of pity in his eyes.

'...Why is he looking at me like that?'

The tower lord seemed about to continue, then let out a long sigh and shook his head.

"...No. I cannot speak further on this matter. I ask for your understanding."

"It has been a great help."

The tower lord offered a small smile and turned to Marcus.

"Then finally, what request did you come here hoping to make of me?"

Under normal circumstances Marcus would have answered crisply and without hesitation, but right now he seemed slightly dazed, as though his mind were somewhere else.

"I didn't come with any particular desire. I simply followed the others by chance. I have no request. I've already received my reward."

"You received a reward?"

"Yes. In the corridor..."

Understanding at once, the tower lord smiled gently.

"Was it a pleasant experience?"

"It was transcendent."

"Even so, since you have come all this way, it would be poor hospitality if the host offered nothing. Should you ever wish to see the view from the top floor again, come find me. The mana elevator will carry you up whenever you desire."

"Truly?"

"Of course."

While Marcus himself remained utterly absorbed in the scenery beyond the window, to Elbridge and Rombel the offer represented no small courtesy. A non-mage had just been granted the right to visit the Central Magic Tower Lord at any time.

The tower lord beckoned Marcus closer.

"Since you are already here, view the scenery from my office rather than the corridor. These windows are far larger and offer more directions, so you will see a great deal more."

"Thank you."

Marcus approached the window with careful steps and promptly lost himself in the view outside. The windows were indeed larger and faced multiple directions, allowing him to take in far more than he had from the corridor. Before long, Rombel and Elbridge were subtly peering out as well.

It was then that a voice slipped directly into Elbridge's ear.

Elbridge kept his body still but flicked his eyes sideways. The tower lord, who had been pretending to admire the view beside Marcus, met his gaze.

There had to be a reason the Central Magic Tower Lord chose this method instead of speaking openly.

Elbridge mouthed the words silently: You said you knew nothing about him.

A secret that even the gods of heaven must not learn. Elbridge's mind spun.

Elbridge agonized for a long moment.

The scale of the matter was far larger than he had imagined, and the possibility that the Goddess of the Rusty Shield might be endangered weighed heavily on him.

Yet in the end he made his decision. If he refused this clue, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

'It would be wiser to receive the clue first and then decide whether to bury it or pursue it.'

Slowly, deliberately, Elbridge blinked three times.

Elbridge stared at the Central Magic Tower Lord.

But that was all the tower lord said.

A few days later, Elbridge's party left Middlemarch under the warm farewells of the vice tower lord and the assembled mages.

Even so, Elbridge's steps remained heavy.

The Eternal Lake...

All Elbridge knew about the Eternal Lake was that it lay in the southern part of the continent.

He tried to sketch a rough map in his mind.

Soleneon, the holy city in the east.

Middlemarch in the center.

The only time he had traveled anywhere near the south was when they had visited the mountain city in the southeast.

Even then, a considerable distance still separated that mountain city from the Eternal Lake.

Is there any pretext I can use to head south?

Nothing came to mind.

The only idea that occurred to him was to return to Varkuntol and then find some excuse to travel west from there.

But the chances of a convenient excuse appearing in Varkuntol were slim. Dwarves had little contact with the outside world to begin with.

If I do nothing, we'll simply return to the east... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠No. The tower lord never set a deadline for when I must reach the Eternal Lake. There is no need to rush.

At that moment, a loud sneeze broke the silence.

"Achoo!"

When he looked over, Marcus was pulling his collar tighter with an embarrassed expression.

"...The days are growing colder by the hour."

When they had first arrived in Middlemarch it had still been autumn, yet in the space of a few days the weather had turned sharply, and winter had arrived without warning.

Only then did Elbridge snap back to reality.

Of course. Traveling south right now is impossible.

The approach of winter meant the end of the year was near.

And at the end of every year, an event of paramount importance took place—an event far, far more significant than the Grand Tournament of summer.

Elbridge cast all his worries aside and spoke with a light, refreshed expression.

"Our schedule is tight. Let us move quickly."

The three of them walked without rest, stopping only to eat and sleep, and finally reached the holy city of Soleneon.

Soleneon was covered in snow, yet it burned with an oddly intense heat.

"We arrived just in time," Marcus said, stretching broadly. He turned to Elbridge and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Rombel. "Elbridge, I hope you get good results. Oh, and I'll stop by the temple tomorrow, so we can divide the rewards then."

Marcus gave the bag on his back a meaningful pat. Inside were the quest rewards from the Mitchell and Millia siblings as well as the gifts of gratitude they had received from the Central Magic Tower.

The mages had given Elbridge especially many presents. After all, without his efforts they might well have died.

The three parted ways, each heading toward their own destination.

Of course, Elbridge's destination was the slums.

As he pushed through the crowds, Elbridge offered a small prayer.

"Goddess. The time has come."

Elbridge sensed a deep excitement in the goddess's oracle. It was only natural. The Goddess of the Rusty Shield had waited two hundred long years for precisely this moment.

At the end of every year, votes were cast across the entire continent—votes that would decide how many seats each god would hold in the Heavenly Assembly.

There was no need for everyone to gather in one place. It was enough to offer a prayer to the god one served and declare one's support.

Elbridge noticed the holy symbols of various orders glowing on the backs of people's hands as they walked the streets. The moment someone offered their first prayer after voting began, the symbol of their chosen order would appear.

Once a believer had declared support and prayed, changing their prayer to another god before the end of the year would not alter the result.

Those who already bore their order's symbol so early in the voting period were the most devout—the ones who prayed without waiting to see what benefits might be offered.

And what of the less devout?

"Pray to the God of the Golden Platter and receive cash immediately!"

"Believe in the Goddess of the Olive Tree! One prayer gets you a generous gift—"

Those people waited until the final moments, when the voting gifts grew largest, before choosing an order and offering their prayer.

Elbridge had learned all of this from Marcus and Rombel.

...The world has gone mad.

Looking out over Soleneon, which had turned into one giant marketplace, Elbridge climbed the hill road leading to the slums and offered another prayer.

"Goddess. How many people have prayed to you so far?"

The Goddess of the Rusty Shield answered with great confidence. Yet a long time passed without any further reply.

Eventually Elbridge prayed again.

"Goddess? Is something wrong?"

The number was difficult to believe.

"Goddess. Did we not gain a thousand believers after the last Grand Tournament? I was told that roughly thirty percent of all believers usually finish voting on the first day."

By that calculation, the Rusty Shield Order still had only about three hundred believers remaining in Soleneon. Could it be possible that seven hundred believers had left in merely half a year?

Believers who came easily left just as easily. That truth had not changed since ancient times.

Elbridge had expected some loss, but not on this scale.

"It is all right, Goddess. What matters are the seats, are they not? As long as we can keep two seats, the loss of a few votes is unimportant."

The goddess's voice trembled. Elbridge even sensed the faint sound of stifled sobs within the oracle. By the heavens.

The Goddess of the Rusty Shield remained silent for a long time. When she finally spoke again, her voice had grown resolute.

"...Understood."

He answered, yet he could offer no certainty.

Five days remained.

Elbridge felt a quiet sense of helplessness descend upon him.