Blooming Petals (3)
"Is... is this enough?"
Who knows? You've only bought yourself a little time.
"Then... what am I supposed to do..."
Just keep doing as you have... just as you have...
"Evan... Evan... you'll only look at me, right...?"
Heeheeheehee...
Drip. Drip. Crimson blood soaked her arm and ran down in thick rivulets.
And before her, the hideously mutilated corpse of a servant hung bodily from the wall, sliding slowly downward along the trail of its own spilled blood.
"Evan... Evan... now... my love is enough..."
The unidentified monster that resembled a clown left me with countless questions.
Why had it appeared at Lake Calion, where the spirits played?
Why had it attacked Violet?
Why had I failed to notice it until it was close enough to fling a dagger at her?
And still more questions followed those, each one chaining into the next, tormenting me without end.
"Don't be so impatient, child."
"...Is that supposed to be advice?"
"The reason you, who have been ground down again and again on the battlefield, failed to sense it is no mystery. It was because that thing was a God's Remnant."
"A God's Remnant? The same God's Remnant I know?"
"What else would it be? You fool."
KRA-BOOM—!
Damn. I'd put too much force into it.
We were almost at the Empire's border.
I was pouring every scrap of mana I had left into a mad sprint while still keeping the shock from reaching Violet, and I felt as if I might collapse at any second—but if I stopped now, she would die for certain.
Even if Lellasion was holding Violet's life in place through our contract, that was only a temporary measure. In the end, there was only one being who could truly alter a human's life and death.
And that one was not Lellasion.
"So someone ordered Violet's assassination. But who?"
"That much I cannot know. But from that God's Remnant alone, this much is clear: the god behind that monster possesses power no less than my master's. And the child who contracted with that god must have offered something of no small value."
"Can we track it?"
"No. If the divinity were lower than my master's, perhaps. But against a god of equal standing, I can say with certainty that it is impossible."
"Damn it..."
Commonly called a God's Remnant.
Once a contract with a god was sealed and the bargain struck, the god sent down into the mortal realm a being akin to an avatar of itself in order to uphold the terms. That avatar might take human form, beast form—even the shape of something inanimate.
The most representative example was Lellasion's own sword, Life.
Hearing only that much, one might assume people would sacrifice whatever they must and petition the gods whenever they wanted something—but unfortunately, it did not work that way.
To begin with, few gods took any great interest in the lower world. In our terms, it was like hearing of some disaster in a foreign country: most people simply thought, ah, so that happened, and felt little urge to intervene. By that measure, humanity's petitions—our prayers—were postcards delivered to a mailbox the gods rarely even opened.
There were, however, gods who checked that mailbox every single day. Those gods were either evil gods or dream gods.
Evil gods and dream gods had no faithful of their own—no one who sought them out—so even when disaster struck, they had no way of knowing, let alone of offering aid. That was why, more often than not, the mere mention of a "God's Remnant" brought to mind assassination contracts, torture, disappearances, the shattering of minds.
"How much longer does Violet have?"
"Roughly... thirty minutes."
"Three hours. Convert it."
"...Do not regret this."
While I was still racing down the forest path, a white fissure opened behind me. An arm of pure white—nothing that could belong to a human—thrust out and seized my throat.
"Ghk..."
Something drained out of me, and at the same time a faint warmth settled into Violet's body where she lay cradled in my arms.
"With this, you have three hours and fifteen minutes. Your fiancée has one hour remaining."
Three hours converted into thirty minutes.
The efficiency was abysmal—but right now, I was grateful for even that.
KRA-BOOM—!
I wrung every last drop of mana from my body and forced my legs onward, and at last a white wall of almost dizzying height began to rise in the distance.
The majestic barrier dividing the Holy Kingdom from the Empire. God's Scratch.
"Uh... Sergeant Leon, sir... what is that...?"
"Huh? You little shit. I told you that kind of crap is all on seniority. Let me see... wait, huh?"
With my whole body reinforced by mana, every word of their exchange reached me clearly.
The short-haired man on the left seemed to hold the higher rank.
Part of me wanted to smash straight through and force my way into the Holy Kingdom—but I could not. The Holy Kingdom was one of only two autonomous nations the Empire had permitted. No matter how well regarded I was within the Empire, charging into the Holy Kingdom without notice could get me branded a traitor or a fugitive. Saving Violet only to leave her with no home to return to would defeat the entire purpose.
"Loyalty. So... Sergeant Leon?"
"Y-yes! And you, noble sir, would be—S-Sir Evan...?"
"You can see the situation. Sergeant Leon, fetch a mana communication device at once. You—bring a identity-verification magic tool."
"Uh..."
Smack—!
"Do as he says, and do it now."
Sergeant Leon had enough sense to cuff his dazed subordinate across the back of the head and bolt straight into the outpost, returning with everything I had named.
"I-if you would channel mana into this..."
"Right. And give me the communication device."
"Yes, sir."
I poured mana into the identity-verification tool the subordinate held out, and at the same time worked the communication device, connecting through the Empire's hotline—distributed only to legion commanders during the war—straight to the Imperial Chancellor.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
"...Who is this? Depending on your answer, you are about to become a top-priority wanted criminal."
"Evan Farcion. The Conductor."
"...Farcion? Why are you calling me on a border guard's device through the hotline?"
"Color Blue. I need to meet the Saint."
"...I was under the impression you had an engagement ceremony today. Same as ever—trouble follows you wherever you go. Wait a moment. I'll contact the Holy Kingdom."
"As quickly as possible, please."
Color Blue.
The color code for failure to protect a designated VIP.
The Chancellor had not claimed the Empire's highest civil post for nothing; he understood at once, and that made everything simpler.
After roughly three minutes that felt like an eternity, the device crackled to life again.
"You may enter the Holy Kingdom. But remember this. In that place..."
"I know. So long as they do not strike first, I will not oppose them."
"No, Farcion. Even if they treat you as an enemy and attack first, you are not to respond with anything beyond the bare minimum of self-defense. That is the Saint's request. He says that if you refuse, they will not treat her at all. Pass that along."
".....Understood."
"I'll inform your house and the Lailia family myself. As for the time limit... they say you may remain until your fiancée recovers. Go."
"Thank you."
The Chancellor had always been easy to deal with; we understood each other.
"I'll be going, then."
"Yes, sir...! But Sir Evan, what lies ahead is extremely dangerous—"
"I'll be fine. I'm not that frail. Once I'm through, lock the gate properly."
"...Fortune favor you."
Grrrnnnk—
God's Scratch faded in a narrow strip, revealing a gap just wide enough for a single person to pass. Beyond that barrier lay the gathering place of every unclean thing under the sky: the Forest of Blemish.
"Mm. I can feel them. The mistakes of the gods."
"We punch through as fast as possible. Don't start sniping at me. Please."
"...Even a 'please,' is it."
Wummm—!
The blade of Life had been forged from an endlessly small white star. Compared to other stars it was tiny beyond measure, yet it had inherited that white star's heat without equal. And the will Lellasion had poured into the blade when she made it—may humanity flourish—was more than enough to make Life the natural enemy of every unclean thing.
KRAAAAAASH—
And that day, white fire bloomed across the Forest of Blemish.
"Hah... hah..."
"Kiiiiiieeeek!!"
Shrrrk—
For tens of minutes I ran, cutting down the unclean things that lunged at us while still shielding Violet. Then a citadel city of pure, blinding white filled my vision completely.
The Holy Kingdom of Valharion.
A nation of people who had gathered to erase every unclean thing from this world and exalt the stature of the gods.
"...That's him. Bring him at once."
And waiting at the gates of that Holy Kingdom were people ready for us.
A neat center-parted hairstyle, black priest's robes, a white collar—the Saint.
He had no name. At his ordination he had cast his own name aside and refused a baptismal name as well.
He had insisted he wanted no baptismal name so that he might accept any and every god, and for a time the high priests had condemned him for it. In the end, though, he had shown a faith bordering on fanaticism, earned the recognition of the gods, and risen as a Saint.
"Hah... hah... Hey... Saint... if you don't treat her properly... I'll..."
"Yes. I still owe you for that day, and you have cleaned our path on the way here besides. I will not disappoint you."
"G...ood..."
And then my vision went black.
Mana exhaustion, most likely.