The Value of Souls
The reason I answered the Golden Mask’s summons was extremely simple.
Because only I can handle this.
There was no substitute. Only I could fulfill the role of the “Golden Goat.” It was something that could not be entrusted to anyone else, it came with a hard deadline, and above all, the Golden Mask’s summons was the most urgent matter at hand.
If it had been a simple banquet, I would have skipped it.
That did not mean I was attending because it was particularly special either. What had caught my eye in the Golden Mask’s letter was a single phrase.
Palga Knight Order council.
The Palga Knight Order! Among the countless knight orders of the Empire, they were the most renowned. The Emperor’s Sword—an order that moved solely for the Emperor’s sake. Their name had been mentioned in the Golden Mask’s letter.
Holding a council with them meant this was almost certainly connected to the “Sleeping Emperor.” And if they were moving, it meant one of two things.
…The appearance of a being that threatens the Emperor, or the Emperor has awakened.
Usually it was one of those two. Yet something still felt off. The Palga Knight Order, which moved only for the Emperor, did not take orders from anyone else. They were capable of independent military action; even the words of the Death God Religion or high nobles would go in one ear and out the other.
So why hold a joint council?
I could not fathom why the executives of the Death God Religion and the Palga Knight Order would convene together. That was why I could not stay away. I was also curious about the nature of the “Will of the Great Moon.”
Question after question piled up until at last I arrived at the heart of the Empire—the Imperial Palace—and found myself greeted by an atmosphere so cold and murderous it chilled me to the bone. Countless factions and forces had gathered within the palace grounds.
They wore silver masks identical in design to those of the Death God Religion executives they followed. Had the executives massed their troops simply to flaunt their influence? Inside the sacred Imperial Palace where the Emperor slept?
They’re wary.
Of one another. I had sensed it before: all eleven executives were rivals. They did not trust each other. That atmosphere had spread to their subordinates as well.
Moreover—
They’re tense.
A strange tension hung in the air. A hair-trigger atmosphere. They did not seem ready to fight one another, so what was the cause?
…Thunder God Descent.
I scanned the crowd and stopped at one particular figure. The one wearing a silver fox mask—the being who used the unique skill Thunder Lion that I had seen at the Empire’s auction, the one I believed to be a character I myself had raised. He had not recognized me.
“Lord Golden Goat, confirmed.”
When I presented the Golden Goat’s seal at the palace entrance, the Transcendents in silver masks all turned to look at me at once. Countless emotions swirled in their gazes. The greatest among them was surely the question of why I had come alone.
There must be something I don’t know.
The Golden Mask’s letter had said nothing about bringing “retainers.” Yet every other executive had brought theirs, which meant there was something they all knew that I alone did not. The Golden Mask could not have been unaware of it; he had deliberately left it out of the letter.
Killing intent, is it?
That was not all. At the center of the swirling emotions lay a shared killing intent. It was absurd. I was an executive myself, yet they were openly directing murderous aura at me. Was this a test—if I could not push through even this, I would not be allowed inside?
The killing intent of so many Transcendents made me feel as though I were walking on thin ice.
“Lord Golden Goat enters!”
But so what? It did not matter.
Thud. Thud.
I straightened my back, kept my stride even, and walked into the palace. Their stares, their wariness, their tension, even their killing intent—none of it could touch me now.
The White King’s face twisted.
“…Where has the Fifth Lord gone?”
The Fifth Lord had ignored his summons. It was the first time such a thing had happened. After the news that the desert city of Faisalmer had been conquered, there had been complete silence.
With the Death King currently absent, only three of the main forces stood before the White King: Medusa, Gungi, and Dae-to-ryong—along with his own daughter, Aria.
He’s anxious.
Aria read the White King’s emotions. Day by day, hour by hour, the White King was growing impatient. Even after conquering every designated city in the south, it made no difference. That meant the Black King’s movements had already surpassed the White King’s predictions.
Even after the southern cities fell, the Black King had shown no reaction—as if such things were beneath his notice. He was ignoring them entirely. It meant he was preparing an even greater blow.
“Fifth Lord… was my summons so contemptible to you?”
“That is not the case, my lord White King.”
Aria stepped forward quickly. If the relationship between the White King and the Fifth Lord soured here, things would spiral beyond control. The Fifth Lord Aria had observed was a talent the White King absolutely had to keep under his wing.
That ominous crow… was a man who knew no limits. The main forces had grown stronger as well, yet his rate of growth was incomparable to theirs.
The White King’s expression darkened further.
“If that is not the case, then is there some urgent matter so pressing that he would ignore my call?”
“My lord White King. Word has reached me that the Fifth Lord is currently in a situation where he cannot answer the summons. In his place, he has left a gift for you.”
“…?”
Toward the puzzled White King, Aria carefully drew from her robes an object wrapped in cloth and offered it with both hands.
“Hmm. This is…”
The White King’s eyes shook violently the moment he saw it. Even wrapped in cloth, he could not fail to recognize it.
“…My fang.”
The single fang he had surrendered long ago in the war against Wilhelm. Losing that fang had weakened the White King. It had cost him his confidence. And now the Fifth Lord was presenting that lost fang to him as a “gift.”
The White King grasped his own fang with trembling hands—the very crystallization of his condensed mana, the purest vessel of his power.
“My lord White King. Furthermore, the Fifth Lord bade me tell you that this is a gift given with no expectation of ‘recompense.’”
“…He seeks no recompense?”
Was it out of apology for failing to answer the summons? To return the fang the White King had searched for so long and still claim he wanted nothing in return… He might say as much, but surely he did not truly desire nothing.
What is it you want me to offer, Fifth Lord?
Only then could the White King calm himself. With the fang returned, he could once more prepare for a decisive battle against the Black King. He could finally move in earnest. Until now he had acted passively because of the lost fang and the confidence that had gone with it. Having reclaimed it, nothing stood in his way any longer.
In any case, he had received an immeasurably great gift. A gift received demanded a gift in return. Ignoring a summons was a trifle he could overlook with a smile.
Now then—what should he give?
“I will go to the Primeval Forest.”
“My lord…?”
“You mean to leave Kramdel?”
Everyone recoiled at the White King’s words. To leave Kramdel and head for the Primeval Forest in person—while the Black King was watching for any chance to take his life!
“I do. You will remain here and guard Kramdel.”
But the White King’s will was firm. Now that the Black King had joined hands with the dark elves, he too intended to join hands with the elves. And there he meant to find something.
…A gift to give the Fifth Lord.
When I took my place at the banquet without incident, several of the patrons’ eyes lit up.
Oh-ho.
So he really was hiding his strength?
The arrogance they had sensed at the first banquet had not been mere bluster after all. The way he had calmly walked through even the killing intent of the Transcendents waiting at the palace entrance made that clear.
But… something feels different from the first banquet.
Hmm.
Should one call it a change in atmosphere? No—it was more than atmosphere. The “rank” they sensed from him was entirely different from before. Even while concealed, something like a faint halo radiated from him. It was difficult to put into words, but if forced to name it, it was “majesty.”
A majesty that had not been present before now emanated from the Golden Goat.
And then—
…Now this is just ridiculous.
Again?
He summoned the Throne of Light by the window and sat upon it once more. Even though they had prepared a proper “Golden Goat’s seat” this time without fail. The man was clearly a lunatic who craved attention.
Whether they thought so or not, the Golden Goat did not so much as twitch as he calmly regarded the Golden Mask.
And so the banquet began.
“The Will of the Great Moon watches over us. May this banquet become the ‘Last Supper.’”
Night. An evening of the full moon. Outside, the moon had clearly been yellow, yet the moment one entered the palace, the moonlight blazed down in a fierce crimson.
“First, let all of you summon your ‘Orthodox.’ The Will of the Great Moon wishes to behold your Orthodox with Its own eyes.”
The Golden Mask drew a seal in the air and summoned his Orthodox. The other patrons followed in turn, calling forth their own. Their Orthodox were little different from before.
But the reaction was starkly different.
—Keh-keh-keh-keh!
—Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki!
The Orthodox were reacting violently to something. The crimson moonlight was driving them into a frenzy. Their eyes, red as the moon itself, dripped with saliva.
—Kya-kya-kya-kak-kak!
…Hell was no exception.
The Golden Mask smiled as he spoke.
“Heh heh. Today is the day closest to a ‘full meal.’ When this ‘Crimson Full Moon’ rises, the Orthodox feel a fierce hunger under the Will of the Great Moon.”
In short, they could eat far more. Order therefore mattered. Of course, that was not the only reason it mattered.
“The Orthodox of the one who prepared the feast shall eat first, and the Orthodox that consumes the most shall receive a blessing directly from the Will of the Great Moon—as will its patron.”
Thump! Thump!
The patrons’ hearts were pounding so hard one could almost hear them. Every last one of them was excited.
“Above all, as you know, the number of ‘souls’ permitted for this banquet is not one. Multiple may be presented at once, and ‘value’ will be assigned to the feast. You must therefore display every valuable soul you possess.”
…Not one?
This, too, had not been written in the letter. At the first banquet, only a single soul could be designated and presented. This banquet was different. Every soul shown would be appraised, and the total would determine the ranking.
For a moment, my eyes met the Golden Mask’s.
So he doesn’t intend to let me go first as a challenger this time.
He had deliberately withheld several critical facts from me. Previously, under the pretext of it being the “first banquet,” Hell had been allowed to attempt a full meal first; now he meant to eliminate that variable completely. If Hell ate and then spat everything out again as before, it would only cause more trouble.
The Golden Mask turned his head and spoke once more.
“Well then. Who will be the first to present the ‘feast’ they have prepared?”
“I’ll go first!”
The man in the lion mask. Once again he stepped forward with confidence. He was the one who had previously offered “Gracia’s Youth” at the banquet.
“This is a special soul that cannot even be compared to the ‘Gracia’s Youth’ I captured before. You may look forward to it!”
Even more special than that? Drawing every gaze at once, the lion-masked man clapped his hands. At once, countless “Death Gods” appeared behind him. The Death Gods had brought in a great many souls. Among them, one in particular—
“Is that…?”
“Hoh.”
The patrons were considerably surprised as they looked upon one soul among the many.
The lion-masked man laughed heartily, clenching a fist.
“Hahaha! Yes—it is the soul of a ‘Star Devotee.’”
A Star Devotee. Those mysterious followers of the stars. The claim was that he had captured the soul of one among them. Star Devotees could never be found unless they revealed themselves of their own will. How had he managed to seize one?
“This one is no ordinary Star Devotee. He is a Star Devotee who knows the location of the ‘Mother Star’ guarded by the ‘Giant of Ruin.’”
“Impressive.”
“Of course, the other souls are no less remarkable. True feasts whose value cannot be measured.”
“…Excellent. Now the Will of the Great Moon shall appraise the value of the souls.”
The Golden Mask acknowledged it with a nod.
Then—
Soul Value Appraised
A crimson number rose before the lion-masked man. The value the Will of the Great Moon had assigned to the souls. It came to roughly one hundred ninety-four thousand.