Hellfire (3)
"The Holy Kingdom is in disarray?"
In the Nameless Village, at the Village Head's house. The Village Head wore a worried expression at the news brought by Bern, who often chatted with Mass.
"What's the reason?"
"It's not about hunting down fugitives or anything like that."
Bern fiddled with the stubble left from roughly shaving his beard with his knife as he spoke. "At least, it's nothing that'll get me or you in trouble."
Bern, sitting in the chair, loosened his collar in frustration. There was an inverted snake tattoo etched there.
"It's just that disgraced knights chased out for beating up some punk, or people who fled after embezzling money from the faithful—no one's paying attention to them right now."
"Ahem, anyone overhearing might think I actually embezzled something."
The Village Head cleared his throat awkwardly. "Enough of that. Tell me what information you've gathered."
"I heard it from a friend still in the Holy Knight Order. The holy knights who became heroes are doing utterly ridiculous things lately."
"Ridiculous things?"
The Village Head tilted his head. "What kind of things?"
"They're killing off key figures in the Holy Kingdom or leaving them crippled."
"What?"
"Yeah, it's definitely absurd." Bern sighed. "Probably just baseless rumors. It's not like the Papal Court has confirmed anything."
"Then... why bring it up?"
"You know why."
Bern's eyes sharpened. "Because the former high priest is here."
Clatter.
A sudden gust rattled the window. In contrast, the Village Head froze like stone before finally opening his mouth. "Be careful with talk like that."
A former high priest was a fugitive on an entirely different level from the village's usual residents. To be ousted from that position meant committing blasphemy beyond any defense. To the Holy Kingdom, it was tantamount to treason.
"We don't know anything. Nothing at all."
The village had an unwritten rule: don't pry into newcomers' pasts. To enforce it, the Village Head sternly warned Bern.
"If we can't stick to that, this village falls. You don't want that either, do you?"
"Of course not."
Bern nodded readily. "I'll follow that. But we still need to be cautious."
"Cautious?"
"I don't know exactly what's happening, but something's wrong at the heart of the Holy Kingdom. Even frontier forces are slowly moving toward the center."
"Acting like there's some internal strife."
"Yeah. Whatever else, when frontier troops move, the ones who bleed are folks just like us."
The Holy Kingdom might not help them, but the mere presence of those forces drastically affected survival odds. Even without support, in the worst case, they could throw themselves into the fray between those troops and survive.
The fact that the Holy Knight Order might disapprove of such desperation meant nothing when death loomed.
Knock knock.
A knock interrupted their conversation. Both men jumped, eyes wide, turning their gazes.
"Wh-who is it?"
—It's Mass.
The Village Head faltered at the reply. "Wh-what brings you to my house?"
—I heard you were discussing monsters with Bern.
That was the official reason Bern and the Village Head met. As the Village Head glanced at him, Bern sighed in response.
"We're done talking. No real gains, so I was about to head out."
—Could you share a bit more of that talk with me?
Bern swallowed dryly at Mass's request. "Share more, you say... what about?"
—I'd like to discuss ways to protect the village. Even if it's just sharing what I know.
Bern and the Village Head exchanged looks. Mass seemed aware they knew his identity. But they couldn't ask outright.
Soon, they nodded to each other in silent agreement.
"Sure! You're always welcome!"
The Village Head shouted exaggeratedly. "With you here, even monsters don't seem so scary! Let's talk!"
And so he invited Mass inside. It wasn't long before he learned the truth.
Mass had come to break the unwritten rule. He revealed he was the former high priest.
The Sunset Cliff Red Lighthouse. Everything around it lay charred.
Amid the salamanders reduced to overcooked meat lumps, one figure knelt rigidly on the ground.
"......"
It was the former Red Tower lord, a grand sage. He had died covered in lava, leaving only a blackened, ash-covered husk screaming in agony.
"Even he was consumed by your overwhelming talent."
Ifrit approached Sorena, the current Tower Lord who would be recorded as his killer.
"But your actions will spread to all the magic towers, sowing seeds of discord. They might see you as a threat to peace among the towers."
Magic tower mages doubled as scholars. To them, who cherished the past, knowledge was a gift from ancestors, and established rules were axioms to uphold.
Under such conventions, the heads of magic towers across the continent respected each other and pooled their strength.
But now, one had shattered the past. An apostate who slew her predecessor with her own hands.
"Can you handle the consequences?"
Ifrit's voice spread, steaming with heat like vapor from underground depths.
Sorena, head bowed without looking at him, replied, "I have to."
If realizing the truth required it, and if she'd contributed to condemning an innocent out of fear of such outcomes, she had no choice but to bear it.
"......Mass."
She bowed deeper, covering her face with her hands. "I'm sorry."
Dew formed on the blackened ground, occasionally revealing red embers, and fell.
It gathered at her fingertips shielding her face, pulled down by gravity.
Fire is like that.
It could be tender or horrific. What had she become to Mass?
Ifrit couldn't know exactly what happened, but watching her, he knew she'd committed an unforgivable sin in the past.
Ah, how pitiful.
Mass was saintly, befitting a former high priest. To endure treatment like an enemy from those around him meant he was no ordinary man.
But even saints might not endure forever. And the dead ashes couldn't be restored.
"Sorena."
Ifrit, once the arrogant Lord of Fire who boasted and burned everything, had come to his senses only after falling to her talent.
He decided to use that regained reason for her sake. It was the only thanks he could give the one who stopped him from greater folly.
"Forget it."
This time, he tried to stop her. "You don't know what kind of fire he'll see you as."
"......"
Sorena didn't answer. She lowered her hands from her face.
"......I can't bear it. I feel like I'm burning up."
"Sorena."
"I need to find Mass."
Defying Ifrit's advice, she reached toward the sky. "Flame!"
Rumble rumble rumble!
The Flame Dragon, drunk on the thrill of battle after so long, dove swiftly from the heavens. Air compressed and released against his wings, vibrating the air.
"My lord."
The Flame Dragon gaped his flame-spewing maw. "Do you have a command for me?"
"Go to Red Wolf Forest."
Sorena stared at him, unconcerned with her disheveled face. "Intel says Mass headed there."
"To find him?"
The Flame Dragon grinned. "But the Red Wolf, called the absolute terrestrial king, rules there. I'm sovereign of the skies, but if we clash, he's no foe I can fight while holding back."
"Do as you like. Rampage if you want."
"Excellent."
The Flame Dragon flapped his wings and ascended. "I'll achieve the goal and return."
With a gleeful expression, he soared high, then shot off with a sonic boom.
Sorena.
Ifrit swallowed hard watching it all.
You must accept the torment.
Forgiveness wasn't something you could always receive.