The Tower Master's Secretary, Mari (2)

"Disciple. Why would you say such a thing?"

My master's voice resonated inside my skull. It was the will-transmission magic, an auxiliary function of the mask artifact.

I can't just sit here and stay quiet.

This was an emergency. At this rate, I was about to become the Tragic Saintess. Eluke was trying to pin a narrative on me — her intention was surely to lift the infamy from my name. But I had no desire to become someone people pitied.

My dream was a life of freely chasing defeat. If I became an object of sympathy, every move I made would come with strings attached. I wanted to keep living exactly as I was, with no restoration of honor — until the Goddess saw fit to grant me her light once more.

"Do as you please. I shall remain silent."

I nodded, asking her to watch my back. Then I looked Eluke dead in the eye. Her expression was hidden beneath the hood of her robe, but the slightest shift of her body told me everything I needed to know. She had marked me as someone to watch out for.

"The Banished Saintess is not an indiscriminate murderer."

"I find the Purple Magic Tower's motives highly suspicious."

Eluke had been a Pope. She was rich in political experience, and she had come armed with thoroughly prepared materials. On paper, I should have been at a disadvantage. But she was the one who had to correct a widely accepted infamy. All I had to do was lean on a prejudice that was already tipping in my favor. I held the far stronger position. This was winnable.

"Enough of these shady little games."

I tried to sound as imposing as my master. The modulated voice came out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so crystalline that the effect was faintly absurd, but nobody laughed.

"I share that sentiment."

Grand Patriarch Damon, seated beside me, lent his agreement.

"Whatever the reason may have been, the fact remains that sins were piled high."

Excellent. He was doing beautifully. Even in the game, Damon had been a character who offered players enormous help — though he had appeared there as a withered old man, not the young one sitting here now.

"Please hear me out to the end first."

Eluke answered in that characteristically serene tone of hers.

"She's right. Let's hear what she has to say."

The Mercenary Captain chimed in as well — less a defense than a decision to sit back and watch how things unfolded.

"Then I shall continue from where I left off."

I pricked up my ears. What argument was she about to make?

"The Banished Saintess has been attempting to prevent the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠resurrection of the Demon King's Four Heavenly Kings."

Someone beside me sucked in a sharp breath. The Mercenary Captain shot to his feet.

"Abandoned by everyone, she has been fighting that lonely battle all this time, entirely on her own."

I had known she would go there.

"Is that true?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

It is not.

The resurrection of the Four Heavenly Kings? I hadn't even known that was possible.

"We have prepared supplementary materials."

Riella flicked her fingers, and a single document drifted down in front of everyone. Unlike the previous stack of papers, which had been nothing but text, this one was packed with photographs that moved as if alive.

"As you can see, this is a magic circle inscribed by a black mage."

It resembled an ordinary magic circle, yet something about it was deeply sinister. Dark light seeped from the lines, radiating an ominous energy. I had seen it somewhere before. It was the same circle that had been painted across the laboratory walls in my master's hallucination.

"Our Magic Tower discovered it in the Western Region."

"And you're saying this is a circle for resurrecting the Four Heavenly Kings?"

The Mercenary Captain asked, suspicion plain in his voice.

"It is a form of black magic used to bring someone back to life — Dead Revival."

There was not a trace of hesitation in her. She spoke as though it were an incontrovertible truth.

Is that true?

"It is Dead Revival, yes. The target, however, is not specified."

Eluke had not said with her own mouth that it was black magic for bringing the Demon King's Four Heavenly Kings back to life. A classic con — deceive others with what you leave unsaid. She had been a Pope, and she operated like a swindler.

"I was under the impression that even Dead Revival cannot achieve a complete resurrection."

"That is correct. Under ordinary circumstances, the result is an undead."

She affirmed my point. A rhetorical technique — take your opponent's claim and turn it to your own advantage.

"But the Four Heavenly Kings are demons. They are beings to whom common sense does not apply."

Had she decided I was the hardest mountain to climb? She turned her head fully toward me now as she spoke.

"You cannot treat this as you would a typical case. All the more so if the perpetrator is a master of black magic."

"You know who is leading the resurrection, then?"

"Of course."

Eluke let the silence hang for a beat.

"It is Remiraen. The Lich. A Public Enemy."

"You have the wrong culprit."

My master, who had promised to stay quiet, suddenly cut in.

"The perpetrator is Kbalt of the Four Heavenly Kings — who has already returned."

"Do you have evidence?"

"I am the witness myself."

Master clenched her fist. A distinctive method of casting. The tabletop transformed into a mirror, and a vivid image began to flow across its surface.

"This is the moment that demon tried to possess me."

"That is all."

The image ended, and the tabletop returned to ordinary wood.

"Is that sufficient?"

They had clearly poured considerable effort into gathering their materials, but there was no evidence more conclusive than the memory of an eyewitness.

"…It is."

Her momentum faltered. But the situation did not turn to my advantage.

"Thanks to Lady Euris, the truth has become clear."

Eluke's voice brightened by a full shade.

"It was not Remiraen. Kbalt has been plotting to revive the other Heavenly Kings."

Far more plausible than claiming a Lich who was a complete stranger was the culprit.

…Why did you do that?

"The truth cannot be hidden, can it?"

Thanks to her doing something entirely unnecessary, Eluke's argument had just gained real weight.

"Then the slaughter the Banished Saintess has committed all this time — that too was to prevent the resurrection of the Four Heavenly Kings?"

"It was."

Even Damon, whom I had trusted, asked the perfectly convenient question.

"Dead Revival targeting a demon has a higher chance of success the more people of wicked heart exist in the world."

"Why is that?"

"Because demons are a race that lives by devouring malice and terror."

Was that actually true? She said it so calmly that it carried a troubling persuasiveness.

"In other words, the Banished Saintess discerned Kbalt's designs and devoted herself to eliminating the wicked."

Even I found myself almost buying it. I glanced around. Everyone else had sunk into troubled thought, unable to open their mouths.

"The more I hear, the more unpleasant this becomes."

In the end, reversing the mood was a job I would have to do myself.

"The Banished Saintess committed slaughter in order to stop the resurrection of the Four Heavenly Kings. That is the core of your argument?"

"It is."

"Unbelievable. Even justification has its limits."

The situation was bad. Which meant I needed to come out even harder.

"So if someone's everyday conduct is poor, or their personality is ugly, they may be killed for the sake of saving the world. Is that what you are saying?"

A point they had all been diligently looking away from until now. Not something that could be glossed over.

"If wiping out a few villains brings peace, isn't that a benefit to everyone?"

Riella, as expected, could not hold back. Her anger broke through. I seized the opening.

"Killing people in order to save people. There is no stretch more grotesque than that."

"That isn't what I—"

"Even you think this argument is a stretch, don't you?"

I snapped it out before she could recover.

"The Banished Saintess is nothing more than a madwoman. She cannot be removed from the list of Public Enemies."

To think I had to passionately argue that I myself was garbage. A strange feeling settled over me as I nudged Damon in the seat beside me.

"You agree with me, I trust."

Even at a glance, he was too soft-hearted to commit either way, so I steered him onto my side.

"…I do. Whatever the reason, a massacre is a massacre."

Fortunately, he made up his mind.

"I can't get behind the Purple Magic Tower's position either."

The Mercenary Captain piled on. The faction in favor was the Purple Magic Tower alone. The opposition numbered three. Even if the still-silent Spiritist Association joined their side, they had no path to a win.

"Anything further to add?"

"……"

I had taken complete control of the current. Or so I thought.

"I have a request to make of all of you."

That voice, which had been nothing but calm, changed. A deep, aching grief. Sorrow so raw it reached across the table and took hold.

Eluke swept the hood of her robe back. I was so startled I nearly shot to my feet, then caught myself.

The same pink hair as mine. Similar features, but a face just a touch more youthful.

"……"

Silence swallowed the room. She had landed a clean, devastating blow.

Eluke cheered inwardly, sensing that the trump card she had saved until the very end had landed perfectly.

Marinea. A younger sister who genuinely existed. The real one was living well at the family estate around now, knowing nothing of any of this.

"So in the end, you only defended her because she's your sister?"

The Mercenary Captain raised a fair objection. He was right. The testimony of family carried little credibility. But emotion overwhelms reason. Mix in familial love, and you could generate a momentum no one would dare oppose head-on.

"My sister is not that kind of person. She is a gentle nun, with a nature more befitting a Saintess than anyone…"

Tears welled and spilled from both eyes. The pinnacle of an emotional appeal. Once you immersed yourself in the moment, the performance came easily.

"Crying won't change a thing."

He said as much, but the Mercenary Captain looked rattled. Damon and the masked elf were no different. It was working. Of course, tears alone would not be enough to turn the situation. Which was why she had prepared her hidden material.

"I am certain you have all already heard the rumors of who it was that subdued the Nightmare of the West — a Public Enemy."

As before, Riella set an image flowing across the round table.

"This is the scene of our sister fighting the leader of the Corpse Locust swarm."

It was a memory read from a battlefield in the west, traced along Clitia's trail.

"My sister defeated the Nightmare of the West with the resolve to die. She did it to prevent the catastrophe of the Corpse Locust swarm spreading across the entire continent."

After disordering their hearts with tears, she unveiled the true merit. The image itself left such a violent impression that the aftershock was enormous.

"Please… recognize my sister's true heart…"

The opposition to removing her from the Public Enemy list had lost the words to answer. Even the masked elf clutched her head this time and could not speak. They were almost there. All that remained was to close.

"Might I interrupt for a moment?"

Someone beat her to it. A middle-aged man with a gentle face who had not said a word until now. The President of the Spiritist Association.

"Are you finally prepared to state your position?"

Riella, who had been hanging back, stepped forward. Eluke had to maintain her grief-stricken performance, after all.

"No. Not I. This child will speak."

The President indicated the companion who had come with him. A woman of such astonishingly featureless appearance that no one's gaze had lingered on her at all.

"If I may be so bold as to offer a word."

A voice like a young girl's. The woman's form grew hazy, and a fierce wind kicked up — a localized gale that sent the documents on the table fluttering in every direction. Then the roaring wind took the shape of a bear, wrapping itself protectively around a girl with hair as red as flame.

"…The Hero?"

Selen. The Hero. A variable no one had anticipated had just walked onto the stage.

"Forgive me. I asked the President to allow me to attend this meeting."

For some reason, Selen gazed at the masked elf with a look of sorrow, then continued.

A single statement that shattered, in an instant, the current they had so painstakingly turned.