The Sanctuary of the Swamp
The boat climbed the river as the water receded, and entered the sanctuary.
A swarm of light spun by the kaizle lit the place up.
The silent, majestic corridor of water welcomed the little pilgrim.
It was, quite simply, a space that deserved to be called vast.
The corridor had spent ages being worn down and dissolved, and long since lost any claim to a complete form.
Murals that were now impossible to make out.
Stalactites and stalagmites, beaded like icicles, had fused into pillars.
Sculptures that had once stretched on in an endless chain had crumbled into countless fragments and scattered.
The pillars, flaking and shedding their outer skin, made it hard to find any patch that hadn’t been discolored by time.
And yet the columns supporting the sanctuary gave off no sense of instability.
On the contrary, they created an illusion so uncanny it made him doubt his own eyes.
The pillars submerged in water were reflected on the surface, as if another set had been erected there.
So natural was the sight that it seemed as though it must have been built that way from the start.
The ceiling, impossible to measure to its end, was packed tight with small statues.
Each gray figure wore splendid clothing.
Narrow eyes and a hooked nose.
A large head compared to the small body.
Not a trace of the goddess he knew could be seen there.
He couldn’t tell who the figure carved into the statue was.
If not the goddess, perhaps someone revered as a saint.
He had a vague sense of it.
If the sanctuary in Spider Forest was a building comparable to a monastery, then the sanctuary of the Ulbazar Swamp was something comparable to a temple.
He reached the end of the long, long water corridor.
The boat, carried by the gentle current, came to a stop where the land began.
Before disembarking, Lawrence checked the state of his body.
His broken body was still protesting in pain.
Every movement sent a vicious stab through him, and the places that had been struck over and over in the boat kept throbbing.
The headache was another matter entirely.
The bug was gone, and yet the pounding noise remained.
If there was any comfort at all, it was that he didn’t have that tight, chest-crushing pain that warned him he’d reached his limit.
That was enough.
He could not use magic, not even by flattering himself, but there was no sign anywhere in the sanctuary of an Eligator or a Bugbear.
He headed inside, following the kaizle’s halo of light.
His solitary footsteps echoed through the passage.
Now and then, he heard the beat of wings from the dark ceiling above.
It didn’t reach even the kaizle’s light, so he couldn’t tell what was up there.
Still, it didn’t feel like anything hostile.
At worst, maybe there were bats or something similar.
If he really wanted to, he could check with Shadow Light.
No matter how high the ceiling was, with his improved control over magic, it probably wouldn’t be difficult.
But that was out of the question.
In his present condition, he wanted to avoid using magic if he could.
He needed to keep something in reserve, just in case.
In that sense, the kaizle were a tremendous help.
These insects were lighting the whole sanctuary for him, and there wasn’t a single fire to be seen.
Murals were carved into the cavern walls here as well, just like in the water corridor.
Unlike the corridor, where most of them had been impossible to decipher, the murals inside the sanctuary had retained their form relatively well.
That shouldn’t have been possible.
The water seeping through the cracks almost seemed to be protecting the paintings.
As he walked, Lawrence studied them.
Geometric patterns.
The symbol of the Holy Cross Order.
Priests wearing a sudan and a miter.
A bishop in a white robe and stole standing upon a dais.
The bright yellow stood in stark contrast to the statues he had seen before.
The two saints held golden cups filled with red liquid.
The instant he saw it, he understood.
This wasn’t a mere mural.
It was a sacred and mysterious holy image: an icon.
Lawrence recalled Ignatius’s teaching.
“...Look with the eyes of your heart. The colors that signify great value. The sacred relics touched by holiness. The garments of the shepherd searching for his lost sheep. Even the placement of the objects and the composition itself. When they stand apart, they can only carry fragmentary meaning. But when all of them come together as one, only then can one glimpse the will of the goddess.”
Without meaning to, he looked past the passage.
Tens, perhaps hundreds.
Icons untouched by decay stretched on and on along the wall.
Every one of them was different.
Even the style of painting was not the same.
And that could only mean one thing.
The icons in the sanctuary had all been painted by different people.
“…….”
It would have been a lie to say he wasn’t amazed.
He felt as if he had opened his eyes to something beyond magic itself.
The boy, who had no talent for making snap judgments, did not understand the true meaning hidden in the icons.
And yet the strange sense of reverence they carried still struck deep in his chest.
In a way, that was only natural.
After all, even people who could not read could still learn to read a picture.
Was there any more certain way to convey a message than that?
For a boy with such limited knowledge, he thought there was not.
The icons conveyed something simple.
This was sacred ground.
Even those with weak faith could look and feel it.
The sanctuary possessed the power to make one believe so.
That realization soon manifested as a physical reaction.
The spiritual current alone was enough to make Lawrence feel small.
His body trembled despite his own will.
Fear? Terror?
Was he being overwhelmed by the atmosphere surrounding the sanctuary?
No.
That wasn’t it.
This trembling. This excitement.
The name of the emotion, so much like impatience, was anticipation.
He wasn’t wrong.
He had come to the right place.
There was no way a place like this wouldn’t have a door linked to a crack in the Spirit World.
A new Spirit World.
He could hardly contain his excitement.
Even the pain that had been clinging to him like static could no longer hold his legs back.
Before long, a broad staircase opened into a space like a stage dais.
At the edge of the dais stood a door that truly deserved to be called grand.
It was so enormous it didn’t look like something meant for people to pass through.
It was so large it seemed to touch the ceiling, and looked as if it would not budge even if pushed with all one’s strength.
One person alone could never open it.
Wouldn’t it take dozens of strong men pushing together just to move it a little?
On either side, he saw the faces of the statues he had seen in the corridor.
The more detailed stone figures each expressed a different emotion.
The left side burned with unmatched rage.
The right was heavy with sorrow that could not be hidden.
They were nothing like the saintly statues of the order, which had carried a gentle expression.
Love and mercy.
These things did not fit the Holy Cross Order’s fundamental creed.
No wonder he felt an inexplicable unease.
To reach the door, he had to cross stepping stones.
The river that had been receding must have carried water all the way in here.
He hadn’t been able to see it from below, but now that he had come up onto the dais, he could see a narrow stream linking the platform to the door.
The water didn’t look deep.
But its dark color kept feeding his unease.
For some reason, he even had the illusion that a sinister force was writhing beneath it.
He was overthinking things.
He shook his head and brushed away the stray thoughts.
He crossed the white stepping stones and headed for the door.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to wonder how to open it.
A faint halo of light was leaking through the crack between the doors.
For an adult, perhaps not.
But it was enough space for a boy to slip through.
He did not hesitate.
Lawrence squeezed himself through the gap.
* * *
The atmosphere changed in an instant.
Inside the door, unlike outside, the air overflowed with sacred energy.
A towering arched dome.
Mosaics sewn across the ceiling.
There was space above for a choir.
And beneath the chandeliers, which no longer shone, a vast hall stretched out before him.
Only one word kept circling through his mind: majestic.
This was the main hall, large enough to hold at least several hundred worshippers.
Even the kaizle’s light could not reach this far.
Instead, gray stone caught the natural light and reflected it back.
It wasn’t very bright, but it was bright enough to make things out.
So it wasn’t some trick of the eye.
The filthy masses of flesh running wild through the main hall were Bugbears.
“…….”
The repulsive stench that should not have been there confirmed reality all too cruelly.
The Bugbears he could see nearby were some kind of young.
Their bodies were smaller, and their height was about the same as a boy’s.
Yes. Those were not the problem.
Lawrence stared at the creature, cold sweat beading on him.
Deep in the back of the main hall, beneath the broken goddess statue, was one of them.
A Bugbear so bloated with fat it seemed to have swallowed the lectern whole.
The one seated on the steps before the altar was holding a young one in its arms.
Yes. Seated.
It wasn’t standing before the altar—it was sitting there with its legs stretched out.
And yet why did it have a body so huge it looked as though it could brush the chandelier if it reached out?
Every Eligator or Bugbear Lawrence had seen until now looked like a child beside this thing.
Beyond big, it was abnormal.
Just as a giant Forest Spider had existed in Spider Forest.
Here, there was a Bugbear that could be compared to it.
In other words, a Bugbear king.
Yeah. Not bad. He could call it that.
The truly fortunate thing was that the Bugbear king and the young ones showed no hostility.
The Bugbear young were watching him with curious eyes.
And the king, too, merely stared at the unfamiliar visitor.
It made no move, raised no voice.
What should he do?
If he was going to strike first, now was the chance.
It was certain the Bugbears were defenseless.
But could he really bring them down?
He assessed his body state coldly.
How many spells could he still cast?
Or, after casting one, how much could he still move?
If he was going to aim for something, it had to be the Bugbear king.
The first spell had to take its life, no matter what.
“…….”
And yet he didn’t know whether he could kill it in one blow.
Even with every preparation completed, he couldn’t be sure how things would go.
In his ragged condition now, he wasn’t even certain he could cast an enhanced Shadow Spear once.
The Bugbear young scattered around him were another problem.
Young or not, they were not to be underestimated.
Their monstrous strength was beyond imagination.
Even now, the sacred things in the hall were being smashed to pieces like toys.
They could probably snap Lawrence’s neck with nothing more than a casual squeeze.
And there weren’t five or six of them, but dozens.
If he counted the ones hidden from view, there might be hundreds.
Did he really have a chance against that number?
And that was before considering the Bugbear king, whose strength he couldn’t even begin to gauge.
No. Don’t get arrogant.
He mustn’t misjudge his own ability.
Right now, he should be worrying about surviving.
Still, there was a way forward.
The goddess statue hidden behind the Bugbear king’s immense body.
If the crack into the Spirit World was there, he could escape this crisis.
Fortunate or not, the Bugbears showed no interest in Lawrence.
So long as he didn’t provoke them unnecessarily, maybe he could reach the goddess statue without much trouble.
Yes. It wasn’t exactly impossible.
It wasn’t like those times when he had been utterly powerless.
Lawrence silently surveyed the hall.
A route that would take him to the goddess statue in the shortest possible distance.
Or, if not that, some passage by which he could return.
Bluntly speaking, it might even be safer to jump from the choir loft.
He didn’t know the principle by which one entered a crack in the Spirit World.
But if, as in the sanctuary of Spider Forest, the condition was contact with the goddess statue, then it was worth trying.
Only as a last resort, of course.
“Huu.”
Lawrence let out a short breath.
He used the vast hall to full advantage, drawing a map in his head.
A place where there were relatively fewer Bugbears.
He carved out a path that would let him approach the goddess statue while avoiding the places where the creatures ran wild.
The Bugbear young would be manageable.
Since they moved around so much, he could somehow slip past them.
The problem was... the Bugbear king seated before the altar, as expected.
Because the goddess statue was behind it, he had no choice but to risk approaching too closely.
He planned to go around it as much as possible first, but considering the size of its body, that was little comfort.
“…….”
He didn’t think for long.
There was no need to hurry. But there was no time to waste, either.
He had no way of knowing when the Bugbears’ attitude might change.
He moved slowly.
Careful not to step on any of the young ones.
The Bugbears that noticed him scatterered in all directions.
Thanks to that, the path to the goddess statue was cleared in an instant.
It almost felt as if the Bugbear young were fleeing of their own accord to avoid the boy.
He didn’t know why, but that was a good thing.
He was nearly at the goddess statue, helped by what was almost help from the creatures themselves, when Lawrence’s face stiffened.
He realized the young ones that had been giving him room were gathering around the king.
The king’s face, which had remained blank until then, was beginning to twist little by little.
Lawrence knew exactly what that reaction meant.
There was no time.
He quickened his pace.
Now the problem was no longer provoking the other creatures.
The more young ones gathered around him, the more the king’s expression unraveled.
He had to reach the goddess statue before that creature’s patience ran out.
Before he knew it, his walk had become a run.
He was short of breath.
His body, still far from fully recovered, creaked in protest.
He ignored the pain. If he could hurry, he had to hurry now.
He was almost there.
He curved around the altar where the king sat and headed for the back of the goddess statue.
That was when it happened.
The king, who had remained silent until now, slammed its fist into the floor.
Thunk!
The main hall trembled.
The vibration that shook the ground itself stopped Lawrence’s feet.
The Bugbear king, awakened at last, was staring straight at the boy.
“Damn it.”
There was no time to think about the back.
The moment that cold gaze met his, Lawrence ran.
―!?
An incomprehensible cry thundered out.
Whatever meaning had been hidden in that action, the young ones who had been scrambling to flee now lunged toward Lawrence.
“Fire Tail!”
He cast the spell he had been preparing.
Anticipating their movement, he whipped Fire Tail out in advance.
Crack!
The flame burst into life in an instant.
On the floor of the hall, only a blackened scorch mark remained.
But as a warning, it was enough.
The Bugbears, startled by the sudden blaze, flinched.
They couldn’t close the distance easily, and only screamed in frustration.
In that gap, Lawrence stretched out a hand toward the goddess statue.
He touched it.
Just a little more. If he stretched just a little farther, he’d reach it.
Kugugugung!
Then it happened.
The ground shook.
A convulsion that made the entire sanctuary—not just the hall—writhe.
“!?”
He couldn’t keep his balance.
Lawrence fell just as he was about to reach the goddess statue.
And then, as he lifted his head, something black came into view.
He was going to die.
The instinctive certainty seared into his mind brought back old memories.
The day he had met the Leader.
The alley where he had played with his friends.
The fairy friends he had met in his dreams.
The day he first learned magic.
The people of Saint Charmant Monastery, and Lenard.
The Shadow Spear taught to him by the red eyes.
The Fire Tail gifted by the fire salamanders.
Acheron and Veles, met in Dragon Valley.
The golden star that had glittered in the crack of the Spirit World.
And...
The moment the bonds he had forged in the swamp flashed through his mind, he reflexively reached out.
Too short.
Not enough.
Still too far.
Just a little more, and he could touch it.
With only the difference of a finger’s width left between him and it, the Bugbear...
Tap.
Something that had come out from the goddess statue seized that hand.
A halo of light?
That thing, like a star in the night sky, swallowed Lawrence whole.