What Will You Believe? - (3)
Night fell even on Arjen Academy. When the students studying in the dormitories finally extinguished their last lights, a silent curtain of darkness settled completely over the grounds. The same was true of the shopping district. In alleys still carrying the evaporated stench of liquor and steeped in gloom, two figures were running.
Black robes whipping behind them, the two beings sliced through the empty air like ghosts. Their forms were eerie. The pale limbs glimpsed between the wide folds of cloth only made them more unsettling.
Tap, tap—!
“....”
“....”
They were heading straight for the academy’s outer wall, racing across rooftops while leaving behind even the drunken sleep-talk of those passed out below. Gaps of several meters were cleared in a single breath.
Thud. Thump—!
“....”
“....”
A perfectly straight line. No wall could hinder the ghosts racing through the darkness. Just as they neared the academy wall—
Thud!
“?!”
Someone was suddenly chasing alongside them. Their movements were like a shadow leaping from roof to roof. The silhouette was unmistakably feminine. She wore black leather that clung to every curve of her body, a mask covering half her face, and carried a sword of medium length.
Shing— The blade was a dull, light-absorbing black that somehow felt ominous.
The woman holding the sword was Mirian, Lydia’s maid.
Mirian spoke softly.
“...As expected, it’s about time for the rats to start swarming.”
“How did you— ‘Black Devotees’?!”
“We can chase them down—!”
“....”
‘...Just small fry.’
Mirian drew forth her energy. A faint wisp of smoke rose from her dull black blade—barely visible in the darkness, like a hazy aura. She gave the smoking sword a light flick.
Ember Swordsmanship: Dance of Smoke
Swish—!
The blade split into countless segments and stretched in a bizarre manner. It moved and sounded exactly like a whip—a technique born from Mirian’s own mental image.
Slash!
“?!”
“?!”
The smoking whip cracked through the air. The heavy sound was so powerful it created the illusion that the very sky might fracture.
Boom—!
The two Black Devotees flinched and skidded to a halt. A direct hit would kill them even with their Black Blessing. The force behind it was monstrous.
“Ugh?! Just being near it does… what?!”
“This is… the Ignition realm…?”
“There shouldn’t be anyone left in the academy who’s reached Ignition—!”
Mirian charged one of them again.
“Spilling everything the moment things go wrong… Is that basic etiquette for demon worshipers? How pathetic.”
“What…! How do you know about the Black Temple?!”
“Hoo…”
Mirian gave up on conversation. Unless they’re fallen priests or bishops, regular devotees are just trash scraped from the bottom of society. They probably don’t even know which demon they sold their souls to. In that case, they couldn’t perform the Ember Ritual either. Further talk was pointless.
She swung her sword like a whip once more. The blade split like fish bones and elongated. A chilling whoosh tore through the air—an attack meant only to kill instantly.
Bang—!
“?!”
The man in the black robe rolled desperately across the roof to dodge. But he couldn’t fully escape the shockwave. He plummeted into a dark corner of the alley with a heavy thud.
“Gah?!”
His arm was bent backward at a grotesque angle. He tried to fix it, but the smoke-like energy was corroding him, disrupting the regenerative power typical of demon worshipers.
Mirian landed gracefully before him.
“Ugh…?! You dare mock the Black Temple?! Reveal yourself—!”
“....”
“Are you ignoring me too, you bitch?!”
“....”
“You filthy sun whore!”
“....”
But the reply came from another woman.
“Oh my, did you just call me a whore right to my face? Well, it’s true, so I can’t exactly deny it. Hoho! If we were near Saint-Roy I might’ve remembered your face.”
“What…?”
The Black Devotee looked toward the voice. A woman in a black dress sat elegantly atop the roof, a petal-like black dagger in her hand.
Mirian shook her head at her without a word.
“....”
“Huh? Ah, right. He’s going to die anyway, so I just blurted it out. Look at me. Sorry~ Sis!”
In that brief moment of distraction, the Black Devotee tried to fling something from his sleeve and flee. A massive foot slammed down on his back.
Boom—! It felt like being crushed beneath a boulder.
“Urk…”
Half his body was pulverized as he slowly crossed death’s threshold. The one pinning him was a giant black knight wearing a full helm. In one hand, the knight held another devotee whose neck had already been snapped.
The black knight spoke in a voice like blazing embers.
“...I could overlook it if it came from Lady Béatrice, but I cannot tolerate an insult toward Mirian.”
“Kyaa—! Our old man is so cool! A real man who keeps the love from twenty years ago burning like gentle charcoal~! So that’s why Sis fell for you back then?”
“....”
Mirian shot Béatrice a brief glare before speaking to Zack. Yet her voice carried a faint trace of warmth.
“First, we should check their belongings.”
“...Mm.”
Unfortunately, they found neither evidence nor orders.
Mirian and Zack sighed.
“Damn. Another dead end.”
“They’re assassins brainwashed with a single purpose. I had hoped, but it was inevitable.”
“I expected assassination attempts on the hero candidates during the hero test, but…”
Béatrice walked over from the far side of the alley.
“This is the first time they’ve thrown devotees into one task so desperately, isn’t it? Usually they run after a single failure. At least, that’s how it’s been since I got involved. Have you seen anything like this, Sis?”
“No. I haven’t either. Sir Zack?”
At Mirian’s glance, Zack slowly shook his head.
“...None.”
“....”
“....”
Zack let out a long sigh.
“...Then it seems we have no choice but to do exactly as Lady Lydia suggested.”
“Drive the traitor into a corner until they reveal their true colors?”
“And secure proper justification while we’re at it~! Our little rookie hero finally becomes a proper hero! Yay—!”
Béatrice performed a lively, girlish motion completely at odds with her age. Neither Zack nor Mirian reacted in the slightest.
Zack ground his teeth.
“It’s obviously either that wildcat paladin bastard or that Albert prick. Their caution is disgusting—they refuse to leave any evidence.”
Especially Albert. He wanted to settle the years of bad blood once and for all.
“...Rather—”
Rather, it might be better to simply cut both their heads off right now—
Béatrice stopped him.
“Hey, hey~ Don’t even think about it! We’d all have to pack up and flee Gallia. The old fossils in the Theocracy would brand us heretics. Let’s do it calmly, just like the princess said!”
Béatrice giggled. She drove her petal-like dagger into the corpses of the Black Devotees.
Squish!
The moment the black dagger pierced them, the bodies began turning ashen from the wound outward, crumbling away.
Crackle… Soon nothing remained but scraps of black robe.
Zack muttered.
“...Lady Béatrice’s ‘imagery’ is terrifying no matter how many times I see it.”
“Huhu, why? Falling for me again? You’re not trying to flirt in front of Mirian Sis, are you?”
“....”
Béatrice smiled quietly. She stroked her dagger and spoke.
“It’s just… ordinary poison. Like the thorns of a black rose tucked in a back-alley corner. Unlike our lovely princess’s noble ‘dawn,’ it’s hardly elegant at all.”
“....”
“....”
Zack and Mirian did not offer sympathy for Béatrice’s past. That was not what she wanted.
“Let’s disperse here. I’ll return to the academy watchtower.”
“I need to head back to the royal dormitory and prepare breakfast. She insists on eating outside instead of the academy cafeteria… We’ve gained another grown daughter, it seems.”
“You have it hard.”
“Not as hard as you, Sir Zack.”
At that, Béatrice let out a bright “Ha!” and stared.
“Our princess still can’t cook for herself?”
“Huhu, that part of her is rather lovable.”
“So cute~!”
Lydia walked toward the dawn training ground carrying the breakfast basket Mirian had handed her. Morgan trudged along beside her, yawning widely.
“Huaaam…”
“....”
“Aren’t you sleepy, Lydia?”
“Not sleepy.”
“Why?”
“It’s a habit.”
Morgan’s eyes widened.
“...That’s amazing. I feel like I’m dying of sleepiness every day.”
“Because you stay up so late every night.”
“It’s a mage’s fate. Magical inspiration strikes best in the middle of the night.”
“You’ve turned staying up late into a habit. Your brilliant brain is simply overheating and tricking you. It’s not healthy in the long run.”
“....”
Morgan grumbled.
“You’re not even sleeping next to me, yet you lecture like you own the place.”
“Would you like to sleep next to me? If you go to bed early, I’ll allow it.”
“...Don’t say that.”
“?”
“Don’t say things like that so often.”
“Understood.”
Morgan finally retreated a step and fell silent.
As Lydia walked, she thought, As expected, ever since the hero test event began, the Black Temple has been marking us intensively. But the frequency is abnormally high.
Neither side could act openly. The weakness of a secret society was how difficult it was to secure manpower. Still…
No matter how disposable they are, releasing Black Devotees in waves just to catch one rookie hero is strange by original work standards.
The Black Temple’s excessive intervention had already twisted the situation beyond recognition. There was nothing to do but accept this reality and prepare accordingly.
Her policy remained unchanged: make Arty stronger. Make Aria stronger as well.
“....”
Lydia had just reached that conclusion when Morgan spoke up beside her.
“Huh? It’s the hero’s leftover.”
“?”
“Over there. By the sun god statue. He’s praying with that old priest guy right now?”
“...Hmm.”
Lydia spotted Arty.
“...!”
Just as Morgan said, Arty was kneeling beside Prayer Priest Edrian in prayer beneath the old sun god statue. His pious posture was remarkably fitting for a follower of the One God Church.
After a while they finished. They bowed politely to each other.
“Priest, I will devote myself today as well.”
“If that is your choice, then do so.”
“....”
They had grown closer than expected.
Arty noticed Lydia and Morgan and slowly approached. Morgan immediately hid behind Lydia’s back.
“....”
“....”
She calls them leftovers to their faces but is still awkward around them.
Arty was holding a wooden sun god holy symbol. It was crude compared to the proper silver ones used by the Divinity Department, but sturdy enough. He greeted them brightly.
“Ah, Lydia! Hello.”
“...You’ve become quite devout.”
“Ah… you mean this?”
Arty shyly showed the wooden symbol.
“The prayer priest said that if I’m going to pray properly, it’s better to hold it in my hand.”
“Have you grown close to him?”
“Haha, well… We’ve only prayed together these past few days. He tells me interesting stories sometimes too.”
“...I see.”
“The sun god’s doctrines and the priests’ teachings that I used to ignore as a child… somehow they’ve started bringing peace to my heart. I should have begun learning sooner, just like the Saintess said.”
“....”
Arty clutched the holy symbol and offered a small prayer.
“Thank you for allowing me this meeting today as well.”
He’s completely become a believer now. If Arty gets this deep into the One God Church faith, Aria will probably be overjoyed and go on a rampage…?
The moment Lydia opened her mouth to speak—
“?!”
Her eyes widened.
From Arty, still praying with his eyes closed…
Flash—!
A faint blue energy flowed out. It was a wave carrying holy power rather than a knight’s mana—stronger than that of an average priest.
“....”
This really… The original work could not be trusted at all.