Beverick (3)
Beverick (3)
He got hit.
By some filthy bastard he hadn't even seen coming!
Beverick staggered. The blow had come out of nowhere, and it hit harder than he'd expected. The struck cheek burned bright red.
What the hell.
That wasn't an ordinary slap.
"You son of a bitch!"
He swung at once, but the boy in front of him dodged with nothing more than a slight turn of his head.
Oh, is that so.
So the little shit's got something up his sleeve, huh?
Beverick rolled up his sleeves, his mouth twisting bitterly. Just when he thought he was finally about to get a taste, he'd been interrupted at the crucial moment.
His mood was ruined beyond recovery, so he wouldn't be satisfied until he'd broken at least one of this damn bastard's limbs.
Then he'd take what he wanted. Beverick glanced over at Irene.
The flower of the cliff.
He'd spent an entire year trying to fuck her. He'd been so close...!
Lust surged up unbidden. And burning even hotter than that, fury blazed.
"I'll kill you!"
An apprentice priest from church headquarters. Beverick came from a clerical family, with a bishop for a father.
Naturally, he'd been taught the faith from childhood, and he'd even inherited a Sacred Mark from his bishop father.
It was a granted Sacred Mark, but the power itself was genuine. He served Ra, and in return for the offerings and prayers he'd steadily accumulated, he too could wield Sacred Power.
A power held only by the world's priests. The Sacred Power swirling in Beverick's hand became flame and blazed up.
"I'll burn you down to the last bone!"
It was fire. Hot fire, at that. Obviously, anyone should have been afraid of it.
Yet strangely, the boy in front of him didn't so much as change expression. He hadn't been burned by it yet, so perhaps he simply didn't understand.
The flame in his hand was hot—hot enough to tear through human skin and injure the flesh beneath.
Beverick was certain he held the upper hand.
The outcome was obvious. An apprentice priest who had barely joined couldn't possibly use Holy Arts.
Beverick had no doubt he could burn every strip of skin off that apprentice priest's face.
But.
And yet. That was how it should have gone.
"...Hey. What the fuck? An apprentice priest from headquarters and all you've got is Ember? And the strongest it gets is just 'hot'?"
His outstretched hand was caught. The flame died down, and the boy in front of him—a full head shorter than him—let out a bored sigh.
His captured hand wouldn't move. Even when he thrashed with all his strength, it didn't budge.
It felt like his hand had been seized by a predator standing far, far above him.
"I knew you were trash the moment I saw you losing your mind over a woman... ha... shit..."
The Ember in Beverick's hand went out. His flame was swallowed in an instant.
A far larger fire bloomed before his eyes. At the unmistakable heat flaring up from his fingertips, Beverick's mouth fell open.
"That's not all you've got, right? Right?"
Ember blazed from the boy's hand.
Like the flames of Ra, with a red-hot heat.
"Bring out everything you've got. If you want to live even one second longer."
. . .
Since I'd already gone this far, I figured I might as well wring something more out of him...
"You piece of shit!"
Beverick flailed in front of me.
There was no discipline in his movements, and his Sacred Power wasn't anything impressive either.
Even the Holy Arts he managed to use were stages I'd already passed. I'd heard he'd been an apprentice priest for quite a while...
This bastard was just a half-baked loser! He didn't even have any Holy Arts worth taking?!
"Y-you son of a..."
He couldn't even finish his curse before he started gasping. His legs gave out and he collapsed simply because he'd exhausted himself.
His stamina was at rock bottom, and his head was completely empty...
The future of the church was obvious. This was a bishop's son?
Did they just dump him out in the sticks because he had no talent?
"Hey."
I nudged him with my foot. A feeble fist came flying at me, so slow it made me sigh.
I didn't even want to grab it, so I dodged to the side. I kicked him in the chin and forced him onto his back.
"What were you counting on when you started this shit? Huh?"
"Y-you think you'll get away with this..."
"Can't read the situation? Which one of us looks like he's not getting out of this unscathed?"
I ground my foot into his chest. Beverick choked and glared up at me, then turned toward Irene, who stood frozen, and reached out to her.
"H-help..."
Irene flinched. She hurried over to me and grabbed my shoulder.
"Y-you can't do that!"
"Why not?"
"Beverick has a bishop at church headquarters backing him! If you do this, you won't be able to go to headquarters! And if they send inspectors here...!"
"Heh heh..."
Beverick's shoulders shook. With his chest still pinned under my foot, he looked up at me.
"D-did you hear that? You dumb bastard... get off me right now. If you get off now, I'll..."
"If I get off, what."
"F-forgive..."
"Forgiiiiiiive?"
I put my weight into my foot. Beverick thrashed, choking.
"Did you say forgive? Huh?"
"F-forgive...!"
"Say it again. Go on. Forgive? Forgivvvvve?"
"L-let's pretend it never happened...!"
"Never happppppened?!"
"N-nothing happened at all...!"
"Nothing happened at all?!"
"Wh-what do you want me to say?!"
"What do I want you to say."
I snorted. Once a man draws his sword, he has to cut something, even if it's only a radish.
And since I'd stepped in, shouldn't I at least break every bone in this bastard's body?
"Beg!"
"I-I'm sorry...!"
"Too late!"
I hauled him up. Then I slammed his face straight into the glass window.
Crash!
"Gaaaaah!"
Amid his gasping groans, Irene flinched.
"H-how are you going to deal with the aftermath?!"
"Irene. Since it's already come to this, let's be honest."
Beverick's eyes had already rolled back. Irene flinched at the sight of his face.
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"Honestly, don't you want to beat him too? I only put up with him for about two weeks, but you've endured him for more than a year, not even counting the pilgrimage."
"......."
"Come on, don't be like that. Since things have already come to this..."
I casually handed her a fistful of Beverick's hair and flashed her a bright smile.
"A present for you."
"......."
Irene cautiously took hold of Beverick's hair. She looked back and forth between me and him, as if asking whether this was really okay.
She still needed a little instruction, I see.
I wrapped my hand over hers. And then—
Together, we slammed Beverick into the intact window beside us.
Crash!
"Aaaaah!"
"There. How does that feel?"
"W-we can't do this..."
"You already did it. And look at this bastard's face..."
I stroked Beverick's face as if in pity.
"It's really fucking ugly. Right?"
"......"
"Are you really going to stop here? No, right? You know how much we've both put up with. You've suffered several times—dozens of times—more than I have. Do you really want to leave this ugly fucking face untouched?"
"B-but he could die...!"
"Where did that usual meticulous side of you go? We're priests. Apprentice priests, sure, but still. Priests."
I drew up my Sacred Power as if to prove it.
"Would a priest let someone die?"
At the surging power of healing, Irene's expression changed.
"...Now that I think about it, you're right."
Something was awakening inside Irene.
"Since he won't 'die' anyway... I think it's okay to do a little more."
"I'll back you up with everything I've got. I'll take responsibility for Priest Beverick's life."
"Thank you, Zahard."
Now, as if she'd decided to stop caring what happened next, Irene smiled brightly for the first time.
She pressed Beverick's face against the stone wall and ground it along the surface.
"It's a wonderful present!"
We spent the whole night moving from place to place and grinding Beverick's face against whatever was available.
From time to time, Beverick woke from unconsciousness and let out miserable screams, but it didn't matter.
If he didn't want that, he shouldn't have pulled that shit.
Karma, pure and simple.
. . .
"Ahaha!"
Irene laughed. It was fun. Had she ever had this much fun before? It felt like a rotten tooth had finally been pulled and a healthy new one had grown in its place.
She tossed Beverick aside. The bastard, his face planted in the mud, rolled across the ground.
Then he squirmed. He looked so much like a bug that Irene kicked him hard in the ass.
So this was what Beverick sounded like when he screamed like a slaughtered pig—
Lost in the moment, Irene eventually returned to reality. She placed a hand over her heaving chest and let out a deep breath.
It had been fun.
For the first time in her life—she'd felt joy.
"...Thank you, Zahard."
She had spent more and more days bowing her head, more and more time watching other people's moods for their sake.
The more she did, the more it felt like she herself was disappearing. Sacrificing herself for others.
Pretending it was nothing, all to repay kindness.
All of it must have festered until it clotted inside her like pus. Otherwise, she could never have felt this refreshed after beating an apprentice priest from headquarters—a man with real power in the church and a bishop for a father.
Once this one-night dream ended, everything would surely become a mess. Even so, the night had been worth it.
So much so that she wanted to call the person who had given her this gift her lifelong benefactor.
"I had a wonderful time, thanks to you."
"Don't mention it."
Irene looked down at him from the side. A boy slightly shorter than her—an apprentice priest who would probably shoot past her in height before long.
Zahard.
She repeated the name in her heart. He was a mysterious boy. If not for him, everything would probably have stayed the same.
No.
It would definitely have gotten worse.
"...I'm sorry."
"What for, all of a sudden?"
"At first... I told you to leave the Church. I'm sorry. I misjudged you."
"Come on. I forgot all about that. Besides, you've been looking after me behind the scenes, haven't you?"
"...You knew about all of it?"
"My bed was made every day, and you were the one leaving snacks out every night. It couldn't have been Priest Mierkant. He's secretly a cheapskate—he'd rather save the money than buy snacks."
Irene let out a small laugh.
"I could see how hard you were studying. You're smart, Zahard. Clever and kind. It would've been stranger not to look after someone working that hard to get to church headquarters."
"I don't think I'm kind."
"Come on. I know you look after the children without making a show of it. Are you going to deny that too? You could have kept all that money for yourself, but you shared it with the whole church instead."
"...Well, it's where I live."
"You could have taken that money and gone to Church headquarters. The fact that you stayed here instead..."
Irene drew her knees together. She sat beside him and quietly gazed at his profile as he averted his eyes.
"It was to repay a kindness, wasn't it? To Priest Mierkant."
"...You're mistaken."
What was with those slightly red ears? Had she seen through his true feelings?
Cute. Irene smiled softly. Ah. If she'd known it would be like this, she should have opened up and talked to him much sooner.
She should have spent a little more time with him.
"Don't worry about what happened today."
"Huh?"
"I'm the one who punished Apprentice Priest Beverick. You just keep quiet. I'll take responsibility for the rest."
"...What do you mean?"
"You're capable. More than anything, you'll clearly be more help to Priest Mierkant than I am. If you come through this unharmed, that will probably be worth more than anything I've ever done to repay him."
No one could avoid taking responsibility.
Irene looked up at the moon.
"...You know, Zahard. I wanted to join the Day Priestesses. I wanted power. Maybe the power that came with serving Ra mattered more to me than faith itself. Because with power... you can do anything."
"......."
"So please carry on after me. Become strong enough that no one can defy you, and help Priest Mierkant. As you know, he's a deeply benevolent, kind man. After everything he's given others, he deserves happiness more than enough."
Irene let out a sigh. Of all the sighs she'd ever breathed, this one felt the most freeing.
"Will you promise me?"
"......"
Zahard scratched his head roughly. Then he dusted off his pants and stood up.
"Irene."
"Yes?"
"You've lived like that for so long that I guess you're used to taking on other people's burdens... but you don't need to do that with me."
Irene looked up at him. For some reason, the boy who had always seemed so much smaller than her now felt enormous.
"I'll take responsibility. You don't have to. So at least with me, stop making that face. Why are you forcing yourself to endure everything? If you don't want to endure it, then don't."
"...Huh?"
"You don't need to protect me."
Zahard smiled. Irene stared at him blankly.
"I'll protect you. So don't worry about anything. I'll take care of it all."
...Protect her?
Irene turned her face away without thinking. For some reason her face burned, and she couldn't lift her head.
What is this.
Why...
Why did he suddenly look so cool...?