Chapter 13
At last, the fourth morning dawned.
Only as a figure of speech, of course. No sunlight actually reached this place. In its stead, Hieronymus brought me three children and asked me to bless them: a boy and a girl brimming with confidence, and one boy thoroughly cowed. They stood behind him, and among them was someone who feared this attempt. The cowed boy. He was afraid. There was a fair chance he had been dragged here by force.
Hmm. Now why would he have been dragged? Hieronymus had called it a blessing, and there ought to be no shortage of people willing to volunteer for that. And yet he was brought by force?
Aha! I understood the intent. He wanted to see how much a subject's performance improved once I made a Harvester. Looking at them like this, I was curious myself. A control subject is necessary, after all.
"Lady Rebecca. I humbly ask this of you."
Hieronymus stepped aside, so I reached out. I would take the one most likely to run — and the sort of person who would make things entertaining if a quarrel broke out over this later. The most cowed of the boys. I pointed at him.
"You first. Come."
A glare. The eyes of the boy and girl beside him went sharp.
Hehe. That's jealousy. It is the look you see in the eyes of someone you are stabbing to death — I mean your own face, reflected in their pupils, the face remembered from memory. You would be surprised how many people are betrayed, seek revenge, fail miserably, and sink into despair.
So I approached the boy and, first, pushed myself a little deeper into Rebecca Rolf. The flesh split as if it were breaking, and from the cracks a deep purple mist spilled out. That mist is me. So I extended myself until I touched the boy. A vivid light, and, set against it, a small warmth. The light was large and bright, yet the warmth was scant. I truly cannot make out the correlation.
Anyway, just as I had with Joanna, I pushed myself into the light. The temptation to take the warmth was overwhelming, but I had to endure it here. If I want to be fed more later, I have to invest!
The moment the deep purple mist touched the light, the light began to stain black. There was a subtle difference from the last time I took the warmth of someone I had received as a Sacrifice. This light was holding its shape. Back then, it had shriveled. If it truly followed the nature of light, the other wavelengths would be cut away until only a single one remained — but I doubt it possesses the nature of light at all. And then the light at the boy's center was dyed completely, a black faintly tinged with purple.
Huh? Unlike Joanna, his body wasn't cracking open to bare blue skin, and his irises weren't turning black either. He was simply trembling all over.
Tisha is a strange boy. He was kidnapped when he was very young and brought to the Church of Future Hope, and he grew up under the same indoctrination as the other children. But this boy harbored doubts — about the education they were giving him, and about the god they spoke of. Why should a body exploding be connected to salvation? Why use the words there is hope in the future while believing in a god who helps you only after you have collapsed in despair? Perfectly reasonable doubts.
When he was little he asked here and there, and once he realized that asking only bred resentment, he stopped. He seems to have realized, too, that such questions were dangerous. In all the years leading up to now, he has never once spoken those doubts aloud. But I know he isn't completely brainwashed. During lessons, or whenever there was something else to do, he had only been pretending at passion. Ah — now that I think of it, is it because he didn't do that? There is one thing he never did.
"I will give myself to you. In exchange, once you have brought everything to its end, I will take all that you hold then. How does that sound?"
Thump. Mm. His heart is beating loudly. Thump, thump. He is nervous.
A contract can sound dangerous, but it isn't actually such a bad one. I give you power, and when you die, I take what you built with that power. That is all. If I can be of help to you, use me as you please. Afterward, once you die, I take everything. The warmth of the lives you kill along the way — let us call that a dividend. It isn't as if some unknown power binds you the way a contract with a demon would, and there is nothing in it that orders you to do anything, so please, be at ease.
I waited for an answer with that in mind, but he only trembled and said nothing. Only his heart pounded wildly. Thump, thump. In other words, there is no trouble in seeing through the eyes of this boy named Tisha. Even if he doesn't speak, I know that if he kills someone, I can obtain warmth.
"If you don't need it, I'll take myself back."
I am also curious what would happen if I pulled myself out completely. Drip. Drip. Beads of sweat fell, and the boy trembled as he tensed every muscle in his body.
"I will make the contract. Apostle."
Apostle? Hieronymus did say something of the sort. Since I had denied being the god called Ksaksibal, he said he would introduce me as that god's apostle. But I am not an apostle. I make the contract clear.
"Call me Rebecca. Human."
I still want to keep hidden the fact that licking the light lets me know their memories. So it would be strange for me to know this boy's name. When they were introduced, they were introduced simply as children seeking to receive a god's power.
"I will... make the contract. Lady Rebecca."
"Good."
But the dramatic result I had expected never appeared. His blond hair, closer to brown than gold, simply dyed itself purple. From behind came a sound of admiration. The two children looked at Tisha with longing, expectation, and jealousy. Joanna stood a little ways off, and Hieronymus watched the making of a Harvester with sharp eyes.
Now then, who shall be next? I am curious what happens when those who hold my power fight one another, so I will go in a direction that can feed their jealousy. I pointed to the girl as next in line. In other words, the boy would be last. The same sex is more provocative, isn't it?
Hehe.
"Come."
"Yes!"
The girl came up to me with light steps. There was already a crack split through my body. Of course, even calling it a crack, it wasn't as if the skin had actually split and bone lay bare. Inside was a darkness whose depths could not be seen — not a black darkness, but the sort that appears in games when someone cries power of the void! A darkness like the night sky itself, moved inward. Deep purple mist flowed from it and touched the girl.
This one's light was large, and the warmth was plentiful too. Wow, this would be truly warm. Shall I lap the warmth up? They said it might fail, so what if I went oops just once and snatched it? That wouldn't do, would it? A lie is no good, in that once you have told one, the next comes easily. To deceive others for a long time, speaking only the truth is best. So I left the warmth I truly wanted to take, and dyed the light black.
This girl's name is Isla. She too was kidnapped when she was very young. But she had a talent for using her body, so she was trained for the warrior track. They teach the children quite systematically, and select the talented ones from among them. I couldn't tell from Tisha alone, but seeing Isla as well, I understand. In the name of basic fitness, every child the church raises is trained in physical conditioning and in moving the body. Boys and girls alike. A cult has many uses for people trained in martial arts, and it can hand out reward and punishment with great efficiency. Train them, and punishment doesn't break your tools — it makes them stronger. The educational plan is laid out quite thoroughly.
As expected, Hieronymus is no ordinary man. He did not grow a cult on charisma alone. He knows a great deal. At the very least, there is a high chance he has experience commanding some vast social collective. That pleases me. If it is him, he can operate the Harvesters far better.
The girl named Isla doesn't amount to much. She simply has talent, and so she has been praised a great deal, and out of that she holds the ambition to become the highest person there. That is about the whole of it. So when a man named Wita called for volunteers, she raised her hand at once.
"I will give myself to you. In exchange, once you have brought everything to its end, I will take all that you hold then."
I ask only once I know the situation. At first I thought of starting with this, but if they burst, the information evaporates. So I lick first, and then I ask. I put the question to Isla, who was staring at me with sparkling eyes.
"Do you agree?"
"Yes! Lady Rebecca!"
The answer came without a moment's hesitation. Perhaps because she had seen what happened earlier, she didn't call me Apostle — she called me Rebecca at once.
Crack. All at once, Isla grew about a handspan taller. Instead of her flesh turning to porcelain, cracking, and a new body emerging from within as Joanna's had, her figure slimmed a little, and she became a tall, well-formed woman. The roots of her hair dyed purple, while the ends remained red. I can tell that, given time, it will likely turn purple through and through. Her skin grew far whiter — white enough that from a distance she might look pale — and her irises turned purple as well. That was the end of the change.
Isla bounced where she stood, then returned to her place with a wide smile. I called the last remaining boy. He had been staring at the suddenly transformed Isla as if she were something wondrous, and he hurried to stand before me. I did the same thing again: touched deep purple mist to the light, and licked, and learned his memories. This one is the child of a church member. His name is Wide. Born into the Church of Future Hope from the start, and unlike the two who were kidnapped, he received all sorts of things from his parents. In return, he had to carry his parents' wishes as well.
It was the same in the country where I lived, back when I was human. They foisted their own dreams onto their children, shoved them into competition, and demanded high marks. Fortunately, this boy had talent. He possessed ability well above the rest, and when a chance came to go further than the others, he leapt at it.
"I will give myself to you. In exchange, once you have brought everything to its end, I will take all that you hold then. Do you agree?"
"Yes. Lady Rebecca."
Crack. The contract was done. He was much like Isla. In an instant he grew as if he had aged two or three years. His hair was short, and perhaps because of that it dyed purple completely, and his skin turned a pale white. What set him apart from the first two was the purple flame that rose from his hand. At first Wide startled and tried to put the fire out, but the moment he realized it wasn't hot, he stopped. He watched the hand burning with purple fire, then clenched his fist tight, and the fire vanished. He opened it, and a moment later the flame flared.
Having brought the power under control at once, Wide turned toward me, full of joy. But Hieronymus's face lay along the path of that glance, and his heart dropped with a lurch. Hieronymus had been looking at him with an extremely hard expression. Wide bowed to me at once and scurried back to where the children stood. Then Hieronymus stepped forward.
With a greeting that sounded very much like a closing remark, Hieronymus led the children outside.
It is quite fascinating that Wide can draw me out and use me, and interesting, too, that the mutation differs from person to person. There will be a great deal to consider. For me, and for Hieronymus as well. In any case, the first objective is achieved.
Now it is time to watch how they change.