The Saintess Has Fallen [06]

Somewhere along the way, the sunset had dyed the Tower red. I sat at the very top, gazing down at the world below.

Busy as ever today, aren't we? And none of you can even get inside.

The soldiers were still dug into their positions, but their guns and their watchfulness had loosened compared to before. Had nothing happened in the meantime? Or was it thanks to my sending those intruders packing recently? Either way, a good sign.

"I honestly don't know what I should be doing right now. This is hard."

So I washed up, slept, and passed the days in peace. To think the hands that once burned an empire would get to savor such quiet hours. I almost felt like offering a prayer of thanks to the goddess. Fallen though I may be.

"Oh, right! I'd completely forgotten about Olivia."

Come ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to think of it, I'd grown curious about how she was doing. It had been four days since I tucked her away on the 90th floor. What kind of face was my poor, unrepentant friend making by now — still refusing to own up to what she'd done?

My heart was already racing. It was a different thrill from the days when I played the Saintess. She still owed me so much, and the days ahead with her promised to be entertaining indeed. What should I do for her first?

I closed my eyes and pictured the 90th floor, and my view shifted in an instant. I studied the door, but nothing much had changed. Still, I hesitated to open it right away. What if the stench was absolutely unbearable?

"Olivia did love being clean, didn't she?"

The moment the door opened, the smell reached me first. But for some reason, it was the exact opposite of what I'd expected — a sweetness like fruit ripened past its bursting point, or honey dissolved into warm water, curling around the tip of my nose.

"...Huh? Well, this is a surprise."

Stepping inside, I felt the floor squelch beneath my feet. Where the tentacles had brushed past, their secretions had hardened into a shed-skin-like film, and red things lay tangled across the walls and ceiling in intricate knots.

There was no movement. The very creatures that had thrashed and ravened when I first opened this place now sprawled sated and slack, like parasites that had finally found their host. Olivia must have really put them through their paces.

"Look how docile you've become. You must have gotten along well with her."

A single tentacle near my feet stirred sluggishly to life. As if searching for something, it clawed its way desperately up to my chest. Watching it, I felt something like maternal warmth welling up inside me. How adorable.

"Good work. I'll be counting on you again later."

I lifted it gently, pressed a kiss to it, and let the darkness swallow it back. Now, where could she be? I looked around until I found her at last. My darling friend. Olivia.

She sat slumped against the wall, her clothes reduced to rags. The marks where tentacles had plunged in and torn free, dried blood and secretions — her skin was mottled with it all. Even wrecked like this, she was still beautiful.

"So? How was your playdate with the children?"

Her eyes were open, but she saw nothing. Those unfocused orbs felt like glass beads. It was a real shame. Where's the fun in this?

That golden hair — once the pride of the empire — hung in a hopeless tangle, half-burying her face. The same hair that had drawn gasp after gasp of admiration at the Count's balls now hung in pitiful disarray.

"...Ah, hahahahaha! What is all this?"

Behind her stretched countless eggs. Pale white ones, each the size of a human head, piled in heaps along the wall. Their surfaces glistened wetly, and something inside them twitched.

"It must have been so hard, Olivia."

She'd endured something that could have killed an ordinary person. What must it have cost to grow that many inside her body? Remarkable fortitude, truly. Childbirth is never easy.

I regretted not witnessing it myself, but there was plenty of time left. I'd simply watch the next round up close. I wanted to see her lay the eggs with my own eyes. The screaming included, everything.

I crouched down in front of Olivia and reached out, carefully wiping the dried stains from her cheek with my fingertips. You poor thing. You never saw this coming, did you, Olivia?

"Look at your face. Honestly, what would people say — a Count's daughter, reduced to this."

No response, sadly. She was still breathing, mercifully, but that was all. She hung slack like a doll with its strings cut, staring vacantly into empty air. Oh dear. Her mind's broken.

"If you can't feel anything, this is no fun at all. So I'll fix you right up. The human mind, as it turns out, is remarkably easy to mend. Olivia. You can't collapse like this. Come on now. Get up."

I placed my palm on Olivia's head.

Inside my body, two powers rose at once.

Two forces that should never have been able to coexist had merged into one. Even I was startled by the strangeness of it.

Was it the goddess's whim? Or something wrong with me?

One was the demon's power that tore mercilessly into others. The other was the Saintess's warmth, the light that once embraced and healed. I'd thought it lost forever — to find it still lingering left a bitter taste in my mouth.

It seeped slowly through her hair. Olivia's pupils trembled. Light returned to those glassy eyes, and the gaze that had been wandering the void ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠came to a stop — on me.

"...Vi...olet...?"

"Yes. It's me. How does your body feel?"

"Where... is this...? Why am I..."

"It's your room. You've had a nice long rest for the past few days, haven't you?"

"Wh... what are you... talking about?"

She blinked a few times. Then her head began to sink. The torn clothes and wounds. The stark white stains and the trails of dried blood. And on her belly, the swollen, lumpy traces of that day.

"AAAAAAGH! What is this — what is this?! My body's... wrong! V-Violet! Get rid of those filthy things right now! You're my friend, aren't you? Please!"

Olivia scrambled desperately off the wall, clawing her way toward me. Her hands and feet slipped in the secretions and she fell, but she dragged herself up again and again. I stayed where I was, watching quietly.

You really are a terrible mother, aren't you?

The children must be heartbroken. Isn't that right, Olivia?

I gestured toward the eggs.

"Congratulations, Olivia. Look. They're your babies."

"Babies...? Th-that's impossible. You're seeing things."

"Right over there. You're a proper mother now, you know."

Olivia shook her head frantically.

"No. No! I don't know anything about that. I don't... I don't know anything! I have no memory of giving birth to those things! Violet, burn them right now!! Every last trace — leave nothing behind!"

"You don't remember?"

I tilted my head. Apparently the shock had been great enough to wipe the memory clean. How cunningly cowardly of her. But no matter.

"Then I'll give it back. So you won't forget this time."

I laid my hand on Olivia's brow again, and the power flowed once more. Not healing this time — I dredged up the fragments of memory she'd buried in the deepest recesses of her mind.

The sensation of tentacles boring through every inch of her body. The days and nights as something began to grow in her womb. The despairing ordeal of writhing in agony as she birthed them. I dragged every last piece of it to the surface.

Olivia's eyes flew wide open.

Her already pale face drained to paper white.

Yes. Yes. That's it. That's the one, Olivia!

That's the expression I wanted. Yours!

"No... no, no, no...!"

She began to thrash. She beat her head against the wall and raked her nails down her own forearms until the skin split and bled. At that, the tentacles around her stirred and crept close, wrapping her wounds.

"It's no use, Olivia. They'll just patch you right up. You're the beloved bride of those children, after all. And their mother, too. You should take better care of your body. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eggs will be hatching soon."

"I didn't give birth to those things! No! They're not mine! Get them away! Clear them out! This body is destined to become the Empress of the Empire. You think I'd let myself be defiled in a place like this? Never!"

"What a heartless mother. I feel sorry for the children you've borne."

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!"

"Well, you've had a hard time of it, so I'll let it slide today."

I rose to my feet and walked over to the mound of eggs.

Without hesitation, I picked up the largest among them. It was a little different from the rest — through the shell, something pulsed visibly.

I cradled it in both arms. It was so very warm.

Who are you, I wonder? Now you've made me curious.

You'd only be bored rotting away in here anyway.

You'd rather come out with me, wouldn't you? Hmm?

"I'll take the abandoned child with me."

I started toward the door. Behind me, Olivia wailed, and the sleeping tentacles awoke and drifted toward her. Oh dear — even I can't call them off now. You'll have to endure a little more, Olivia.

"Violet! Violet, please! Kill me! Just kill me! I hate this...! I hate it! We were childhood friends — each other's only one — did you really have to go this far?"

I paused at the door.

And spoke without turning around.

...You're right, you know.

We were childhood friends. That's exactly why.

"Because you're precious. I'm treating you preciously."

"Please... please forgive me. I'm begging you."

"Too late. Far too late, you fool."

The instant the door closed, a scream rang out. Loud enough to pierce the solid door. Hugging the egg to my chest, I tilted my head and listened. How lovely.

You're beautiful today, too.

My dear friend. Olivia.

The next morning, my jaw dropped at the sight before me. I never dreamed it could change this much overnight. Even monsters need time to reach maturity, after all.

"...Is it because it's Olivia's child? Something special?"

I'd expected something palm-sized, wriggling. Instead, it had grown so massive its head could touch the ceiling. For someone who'd been counting on a tiny little darling, it was a deeply disappointing sight.

Three necks covered in crimson scales stretched upward, each crowned with a draconic head baring fangs the length of a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠man's fingers.

It was the shape of a beast out of myth.

I could have sworn I'd seen it painted on temple walls once.

A monster passed down through legend. A hydra, wasn't it?

"You don't look anything like Olivia."

Which was a real shame. It would have been nice if it had her golden hair, or her blue eyes. But there was not a trace of Olivia anywhere on the creature.

Then the middle head approached me. It nudged its forehead against me, practically begging to be petted right that second, and the two flanking heads dipped down to rest their chins on my shoulders.

That tickles. So affectionate for something so enormous. Olivia should feel terrible about herself — casting aside a child this lovable. You really shouldn't judge by appearances alone. Don't you agree?

"Yes, yes. Good boy. You want petting here too?"

I stroked its head. The scales were hot and hard. All three heads rumbled their throats at once, and the sheer, low vibration shook the entire chamber.

"I should give you a name."

I pondered for a long while. I didn't want anything tied to the goddess. Nothing from the empire either. Then something surfaced from a hazy memory — a story from ages past. The king's companion, who grew up among beasts.

"Enkidu. What do you think? Splendid, isn't it? Do you like it?"

In the next moment, a blue window floated up before my eyes.

Along with a system notification. So something did happen.

Let's take a look at what this is about, shall we?

"...A Floor Guardian, huh. Very RPG of it."

I gazed up at the monster before me. It seemed cruel to leave it here with nothing to do, and even if it died, I could revive it anytime with points. There wasn't much of a downside, was there?

I thought back to the hunters I'd sent packing a few days ago. I found myself wondering what faces they'd make if they came back and came face to face with Enkidu. Perfect. This floor, then.

"The 30th floor? They should be able to make it at least that far."

Enkidu's body began to blur. The scales dissolved into wisps of white smoke, and its heads scattered like mist. I waved at the eyes that had been staring fixedly at me. Don't be sad. This isn't goodbye.

"Take care. I'll come see you later."

It turned out the Tower could do far more than I'd imagined. But something nagged at me. That process just now couldn't have been free. Let's check.

Nearly half of it had vanished. Cut in half in a single day. Apparently that was what it cost to install Enkidu as a Guardian. Had the child been far stronger than I'd anticipated?

Not that I regretted it. The price of gaining that child was more than fair. The only question was what to do with what remained. I swiped the window downward. Floor expansion, additional monsters, trap placement...

"...Is there nothing else? I don't need any of this."

I was half-distracted — I'd already done plenty of that, after all. Then my hand stopped at the very bottom of the list, on an entry I'd never seen before. One labeled Tower Precepts.

"Yes. That's it. That's what I've been waiting for."

I would write the laws exactly as I pleased, and move everything within them. In this place, I might just be able to build the world I wanted. An earthly paradise where traitors could never exist.