The Goddess's Love
A few days later, Bireon stood before the open gates of the city to see off Elbridge and his companions.
“If you ever need help, come find me anytime.”
“I will.”
Next, Bireon turned to Isalbius and the other followers of the Flowing Water Order.
“If you ever need a place to lean on, come to me.”
The words were almost identical to what he had said to Elbridge, yet the tone carried a completely different weight.
It was less an offer of alliance and more an invitation: if they were willing to worship the God of the Silver Harpoon, they should come.
The followers of the Flowing Water Order quietly turned their heads away.
That day might come someday, but not yet.
Elbridge, Rombel, Marcus, along with the priests and holy knights of the Flowing Water Order, set off toward the south.
Since most of the Flowing Water Order’s followers lived around the Eternal Lake, they were able to serve as guides for Elbridge’s party.
A weight pressed on one side of Elbridge’s chest.
I never imagined the war would end like this…
The war had fizzled out without any real conclusion.
It had begun as a conflict to monopolize the power of healing.
But with the God of the Flowing Water gone, that power had vanished as well. There was no longer any reason for the orders to fight one another. That was why Bireon had so readily allowed the people of the Flowing Water Order to leave.
Rombel spoke up.
“Elbridge.”
“What?”
“In my three hundred years of life, I’ve spent over two hundred of them living among humans. I’ve seen people fight until I’m sick of it. But this is the first war like this I’ve ever witnessed.”
“In what way?”
“Every quarrel or war I’ve seen always had a winner. Even if only one person out of a hundred claimed victory, even if the spoils were pathetically small, there was always a victor. But this war? Not a single winner. Not one.”
Elbridge fell into thought.
What had this war left behind?
The dead. The wounded.
Fallen orders. Orders on the brink of collapse. Orders that had fortunately escaped heavy damage.
Hatred and lingering resentment.
And the followers who had lost their god…
Gurgle.
Elbridge glanced toward the sound.
It was a Land Boar. The creature had been digging at the earth, but when it noticed the large group approaching, it quietly slunk away.
In a way, I suppose they’re victims too.
Elbridge continued his thoughts.
In other regions, the surviving factions might have expanded their territories. But the South was different.
Since ancient times, land had never been in short supply here. What had always been lacking were habitable environments and the people willing to fight the demonic beasts to survive.
In a land that required many people to sustain itself, the loss of even more lives would undoubtedly make life even harder for the southerners.
Rombel was right.
Not a single person had gained anything from this war.
Elbridge opened his mouth.
“You’re right that there was no victor in this war. But it’s not the first war without one.”
“Really? There was another war with no winner?”
“The war against the demons. That war had no victor either. Everyone only suffered losses.”
“No. That war was the one that gained the most. It bought us two hundred years of peace, didn’t it?”
Elbridge answered grumpily.
“I never got to taste that peace.”
“That’s because you stepped in shit.”
Elbridge’s fist clenched tight.
“How about calling it a heroic sacrifice instead?”
Rombel snorted.
“Heroic sacrifice? I didn’t see the moment the Great Demon was sealed, but I can imagine the scene well enough. All the holy knights eyeing each other, hoping someone else would step up… and then you got pushed into it by the mood.”
Elbridge flinched inwardly. Rombel’s guess had hit the mark far too accurately.
The holy knights who had thrown their lives away fighting the Great Demon had, once it was subdued, subtly begun to protect themselves. With peace and prosperity on the horizon, who would willingly choose such a sacrifice?
Elbridge had hated that uncomfortable atmosphere and believed he was the right person for the task, so he had stepped forward. Of course, as Rombel said, the atmosphere had pushed him a little as well.
But since there was no one left to testify to that, Elbridge could speak with confidence.
“No. I didn’t hesitate at all. I gladly took on a duty everyone else avoided.”
“Honestly, that doesn’t really matter. Whether you stepped in shit because someone pushed you or because you stuck your own foot out, the end result is the same—you still stepped in shit, right?”
Elbridge’s fist cut through the air.
But Rombel had been expecting it. He reached out and caught the punch cleanly.
Should he swing again, or move on to the next stage?
The answer was the latter. The moment Elbridge’s hand touched his sword hilt, Rombel quickly changed his tune.
“Of course, the opposite statement works too. Whether you were pushed into the role or took it on without hesitation, the result is still a heroic sacrifice. Isn’t that right?”
“…”
Elbridge couldn’t tell if it was mere lip service or if Rombel truly believed it. But it was exactly what he had wanted to hear.
Because for the past two hundred years, Elbridge had always felt a small twinge of shame at the memory of hesitating even for a moment before stepping forward.
If I was going to do it anyway, I should have stepped up without hesitation.
If I was going to hesitate, I should have stubbornly held out until the end instead of volunteering to be the sacrifice for the seal…
How many times had he regretted it?
…The seal.
And now he was traveling once again to create a seal.
Elbridge fiddled with the core left behind by the God of the Flowing Water.
The cores left by demons varied wildly in size and shape.
The one left by the God of the Flowing Water looked like the seed of a fruit. Its surface was slightly uneven, and it was no larger than a thumb.
What stood out was its color.
Unlike the usual black or dark red cores of other demons, this one was ash-gray.
As if it were saying it had not yet become a complete demon.
“Rombel.”
“What?”
“You said you would become a god for the sake of your kin.”
“That’s right.”
You won’t become a demon, will you?Elbridge almost said it aloud but closed his mouth.
Yet Rombel read the unspoken words from his expression.
The dwarf grinned.
“If my wife were still alive, I might have become a demon for her sake. But she died long ago. Of course I care for my other kin… but not as much as I cared for her. We haven’t had any real interaction for over two hundred years. So there’s no chance I’ll follow in the footsteps of the God of the Flowing Water.”
Elbridge nodded.
At that moment, a low laugh rang out from behind them.
Wahaha—
When he turned, he saw Marcus chatting with the people of the Flowing Water Order.
Marcus was the type who couldn’t stand a gloomy atmosphere, so he would strike up conversations with one person after another to lift everyone’s spirits.
Rombel joined the group as if to help him.
Left alone, Elbridge offered a prayer to the Goddess of the Rusty Shield.
“Goddess.”
It was the first prayer he had offered in several days since defeating the God of the Flowing Water.
As if she had been waiting, the Goddess of the Rusty Shield immediately sent down an oracle.
I am listening, Elbridge. If you require the help of your goddess, speak quickly.
“I simply wanted to talk for a little while.”
Your goddess is always ready to listen to the worries of her most faithful knight. Even if they are embarrassing worries, pour them all out without hesitation.
Elbridge smiled without realizing it.
Whenever he spoke with the Goddess of the Rusty Shield, strength somehow surged through his entire body.
“Goddess. I think I finally understand why the gods no longer give oracles so easily.”
What do you believe the reason to be?
“In the past, I thought it was to conserve even a little divine power, or to maintain authority by keeping an appropriate distance from their followers.”
That is what most people believe.
“But in truth… isn’t it to maintain a proper distance from their followers?”
The Goddess of the Rusty Shield laughed softly.
Correct, Elbridge.
The gods had once been human too.
Humans who rejoiced at good connections and grieved when those connections were severed.
If they could not overcome those human emotions, they might wield power they were not permitted to use and become demons—just as the God of the Flowing Water had.
But the gods had a safe path.
If they cut off interest in their followers and kept their distance, they could remain heavenly gods forever.
Refraining from oracles and avoiding personal relationships was the surest way to maintain that distance.
A god who truly loves and cherishes their followers is more likely to become a demon. On the other hand, a god who remains indifferent to their followers, or who views the relationship as nothing more than a transaction, can remain in heaven for eternity.
That paradoxical truth left Elbridge feeling confused.
If the demons I have fought until now were gods who truly loved their followers…
His mind grew tangled.
Elbridge gathered his thoughts and asked the Goddess of the Rusty Shield.
“Goddess. When the Land Boars were about to overrun the castle, you told me you would save me no matter what price you had to pay.”
The Goddess of the Rusty Shield feigned ignorance.
Hmm. I don’t quite remember.
“…You definitely said that.”
Ah, now that you mention it, I think I recall. Why bring that up so suddenly?
Elbridge asked carefully.
“I was curious what method you intended to use to save me, Goddess.”
Your goddess possesses boundless charm and ability. There are still countless powers I have not yet shown you. I planned to use one of them to rescue you.
Pfft.
An irreverent laugh burst out of him.
If Marcus hadn’t been working so hard to lighten the mood, the situation would have become extremely awkward.
“Really?”
Of course. Your goddess can wield at least four times as many powers as the God of the Flowing Water. If I scrape the bottom of every permitted power, I could save you without crossing the line.
“Hmm…”
Apparently dissatisfied with his reaction, the goddess spoke with feigned anger.
I hope you are not doubting your goddess, Elbridge.
“Of course not. I have always believed in you with all my heart, Goddess.”
I knew you would.
Yet a question still remained in Elbridge’s mind.
“Goddess. May I ask one more thing?”
Your goddess is a respectable mid-tier deity. I can answer questions all day long.
“During the past two hundred years… were there not difficult times for you as well, Goddess?”
Perhaps because the question was unexpected, the goddess’s oracle took a moment to return.
…This is the first time I have received such a question.
In a way, it was only natural.
People prayed for gods to understand their suffering, yet rarely tried to understand the suffering of the gods.
Who would dare associate pain with a god?
Elbridge did not press for an answer and simply continued walking slowly.
Some time passed before the oracle came again.
Of course there were many difficult moments, Elbridge.
“What moments did you find difficult?”
A follower who wished to understand a god’s pain. Some might call it terrible blasphemy.
But Elbridge believed everyone needed such moments.
Even if the other party was a god, there would be no exception.
The first words were exactly what he had expected.
When I had to watch a holy knight die.
The Rusty Shield Order had never had many holy knights.
Because the goddess had to watch over each one for a long time, the sense of loss she felt whenever one died must have been that much greater.
When my followers offered prayers without asking for anything in return, yet I could not help them as they were brutally slaughtered. When those followers did not ask for help even in their final moments.
When white-haired holy knights who should have retired put their helmets back on and returned to the battlefield. When they finally did not return and met their end on that field. When their elderly wives clutched their husbands’ helmets and returned to empty homes.
The goddess’s words came slowly, but they did not stop.
The Goddess of the Rusty Shield was a strong deity.
But being strong did not mean she was without scars.
Rather, because she was strong, the scars that were carved into her remained for a very long time.
When a god I was close to could not overcome their own shaking. When their seat in the assembly slowly dwindled until they barely held onto a single one, only to lose even that and be pushed out.
When the last follower who still offered prayers to your goddess—an old woman who could barely move—carefully wiped my statue with oil.
That very evening, when the old woman finally drew her last breath on a spring night. And the very next day, the first day since your goddess ascended that not a single person offered me a prayer.
The voice of the Goddess of the Rusty Shield was wet with emotion.
After the day that old woman died, for over a hundred years, not a single person had visited her temple.
When I had to watch my temple become covered in dust for such a long time. And when I thought such days would continue for a very long while—perhaps forever.
The goddess’s story ended there.
Elbridge asked.
“Goddess, how did you endure that long pain?”
Don’t you already know the answer better than anyone, Elbridge?
The Goddess of the Rusty Shield laughed.
Because even though those who visited the temple had disappeared, I knew that my last follower still existed. My most beloved child.