Close Encounter (3)
What the hell? What does this even mean?
The theater was currently occupied by Guinevere, who was staying there to conduct her investigation. In other words, it was the absolute worst place imaginable for the Demon King to be. Yet the Demon King who had infiltrated my dream had just claimed he was there right now.
Was Guinevere the Demon King? No, that didn’t make any sense. As far as I knew, she was an elf who had been staying in the imperial capital. If she were the Demon King, the empire wouldn’t have been so incompetent as to miss it. After all, this world’s strongest nation wasn’t that much of a pushover. At the very least, the security around the imperial palace and the capital itself had to be tighter than anywhere else.
So the possibility that Guinevere was the Demon King was off the table for now. But if that was the case, then what came next? Was the Demon King hiding somewhere in that very theater alongside her?
Fortunately, I had a much better option than barging in blindly—an official complaint channel that carried real teeth within the empire.
“Yulia, shall we visit our theater? I’m getting a little worried about the Archmage as well.”
“That’s a good idea. Leave the arrangements to me.”
Ah, how reassuring. There’s no way I could feel more secure than this.
Yulia seemed to think of me that way, but in terms of secular power alone, she was someone who could reduce me to a mere footnote if she wanted. Of course, that didn’t mean I would rely solely on her. I had quite a few people around me who could exert influence in various fields.
“You’re going too, right, Zeke?”
“Me? To that place?”
“Both Yulia and I are going. Shouldn’t the Hero come along? You could at least make a good impression on the Archmage. I’m sure there will come a time when you’ll want to call in that favor while working as the Hero.”
Before he could ask why, I threw out an appropriate excuse. Zeke, who had been looking somewhat sulky, finally seemed to mull it over. The truth was, if I told him about the dream in advance and then it turned out the pink-haired figure appeared again laughing at him for falling for it, what would I do? Even if I explained the dream itself, I’d probably just get treated as a Saint suffering from severe mental fatigue. After all, with so many clergy around, the fact that something had successfully infiltrated my dreams meant it had breached serious defenses. And if I then said, “By the way, when I asked where the Demon King was, he told me he was at the Blue Sea Theater,” I’d be met with nothing but ice-cold stares.
“What about Crown Prince Peter? Isn’t he coming?”
“Huh? Why would Peter go?”
I couldn’t drag the crown prince into a situation where combat might break out. Even if we lost and had to retreat, we needed room to withdraw safely. Throwing Peter, who was somewhat awkward to use against the Demon King, into the mix would only complicate things. On the other hand, Zeke’s pure combat ability already surpassed Peter’s to some degree, and the Hero’s natural compatibility as the ultimate anti-demon weapon would play a huge role.
As the Saint, I was obviously essential, and Yulia was a priestess more than capable of supporting me, so she would certainly pull her weight against the Demon King. There was no need to even mention the elf Archmage Guinevere.
“Then it’s just us going?”
“Yulia’s coming too. We’re going to see the Archmage and check if there’s anything we can help with.”
“Ah, right. That’s true.”
Zeke had brightened up when he heard Peter wasn’t coming, but his mood dipped slightly when Yulia’s name came up again, only to recover quickly.
“You’re going, right?”
“I have to. What do I need to prepare?”
“Yulia will handle all the political preparations. Zeke, you just make sure your sword is in good shape.”
In this situation, there probably wasn’t much the Hero could do to directly assist the Archmage. Simply having the Hero present would carry its own symbolic weight. That was only if Guinevere agreed, of course, but since Yulia had spoken so confidently, I had no choice but to trust her.
“It’s done. I didn’t have to use any special influence. The Archmage simply gave permission.”
“Still, the fact that she granted it so easily after you spoke to her directly is all thanks to you. Well done, Yulia.”
Fortunately, permission came far more easily than expected. And so the three of us headed to the theater where Guinevere was staying.
“Hmm, as the crown prince, I would like to assess the situation as well.”
I don’t know how he found out, but a few hours before we were set to depart—on the very morning of the day—Peter approached us. His reasoning wasn’t entirely unreasonable. However, Zeke looked ready to step forward and answer, so I quickly spoke up before things could go sideways.
“If you join us along with the Hero and Saint, the forces protecting the academy might end up focusing more on us than on the academy itself. I’ll tell you everything that happens, so please wait for us.”
Peter hummed thoughtfully. Objectively speaking, my reasoning carried more weight than his. Even with just the Saint, the imperial princess, and the Hero, we would already draw a considerable escort. Adding the crown prince of Brienne, the highest-ranking student remaining at the academy, could genuinely tip the scales in the wrong direction. Normally one would assume nothing major would happen, but the academy lockdown itself had been implemented precisely to prepare for situations beyond the norm.
“Understood. I’ll wait, then.”
“Thank you, Peter.”
Fortunately, Peter understood the situation. He had met Guinevere before as well, so after more than a week with no news, he likely concluded it was better not to add any extra burden to the visit and risk causing delays.
When we actually stepped outside the academy, the atmosphere was noticeably more desolate than when I had last visited. It wasn’t that there were no people at all, but anyone who didn’t absolutely need to be there was nowhere to be seen. The bustling commercial district that had thrived on noble spending now felt distinctly empty.
So they really are feeling the threat of the Demon King.
“This way, please.”
“Before we go in, is there anything we should know? Anything we shouldn’t do, or precautions we should take?”
“The Archmage is not so difficult a person. Please don’t worry.”
The imperial knight serving as guard, who was also a baron, was evidently a proud citizen of the empire; he didn’t refer to me as “Saint.” That was fortunate, since I wasn’t particularly fond of the title. In truth, while I had an advantage when it came to believing in the existence of gods, I was by no means a hardline fundamentalist who adhered strictly to this world’s church doctrines and customs.
Yet the imperial baron, who had been maintaining that ambiguous attitude, suddenly twitched an eyebrow. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or simply surprised.
“Her Highness the Princess and her companions have arrived.”
“Ah, p-please come in!”
The voice that came from inside definitely belonged to Guinevere. I had only heard it on the first day we arrived, but that childlike, adorable tone remained crystal clear in my memory.
When we stepped into the theater, the seats had been painted in various fluorescent colors that glowed even in the dim lighting. The shapes looked like characters from an unknown script or perhaps simplified symbols.
“How is the investigation progressing?”
She really was cute. Her face and the flowing fabric of her clothes were smeared with the same glowing colors, yet her ears remained pristine, twitching adorably.
“U-um… I-I’m not sure…”
She suddenly deflated, ears drooping, head lowering, shoulders slumping. The cuteness perfectly matched her apparent age—or rather, her appearance. But this time the source of that cuteness was the problem.
“If you’re not sure, does that mean you haven’t felt anything at all?”
I gently released my divine power, bathing the area in a golden light. Whatever Guinevere had done, it was clear she had worked extremely hard. Traces were visible everywhere, and in some places she seemed to have caught onto something and magically dug into the walls and floor. I knew it was magical because there were no tools anywhere that could have been used to dig or break through.
There was no way Guinevere, who looked no older than a fifth- or sixth-grader, had done all that with her bare hands.
“I do feel something, but… it feels a little strange. Like this isn’t quite it…”
She looked around anxiously, clearly sensing that something was there even as her shoulders remained slumped.
Hmm. What should I do?
“Yulia, could you help me?”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Brighten the entire area. Not blindingly bright, just enough to illuminate everything clearly.”
Yulia nodded at my request and spread her divine power outward. It was noticeably weaker than when I used my full strength, but it was still objectively very powerful.
Meanwhile, I gave Zeke a nod, signaling him to draw his sword. I poured a generous amount of divine power into it, and the blade immediately began to shine brilliantly.
“What should I do?”
“Do you feel anything catching your attention? Just stay still and focus. If you sense something, swing at it.”
I smiled gently at the petite, adorable elf Archmage, who was staring at me in a half-daze. I didn’t know exactly how this would work. But if the Demon King really was here, no one would be able to detect it better than Zeke, the Hero. As the Saint I should have some insight too, but when it came to life experience in this world, I was the greenest one here. So I might as well rely on the Hero, the ultimate specialist in anti-demon combat.
“…Huh?”
“What? Did you catch something?”
“Over here. This way.”
Zeke, having detected something, led us toward the front rows near the stage. I poured even more divine power into the Hero’s Sword. It began to glow so intensely it was almost like a miniature sun. As we drew closer, Guinevere’s eyes widened in astonishment. Even Yulia focused her divine power on the right side of the front row.
Yet I still couldn’t feel anything.
“Uwaaak! Waaaaak! Put that away! Put it awaaaay!”
The moment we reached the front row after crossing the center aisle, a voice suddenly rang out. From the seat that Yulia’s divine light had been narrowing in on, a pink-haired figure popped into view.
What? Why is she actually here? Is this even possible?
“W-who are you?!”
“I’ll tell you, so put that away! That sword! Please? I’m begging you!”
“Let’s put it away for now. She looks really young.”
She did appear slightly older than Guinevere, but by appearance alone she still looked quite young. Zeke turned to me as if seeking my opinion, and I spoke carefully.
“She looks about the same age as us, doesn’t she?”
Ah, right. Aside from Guinevere, everyone here was sixteen years old—no one older than a middle-school third-year.