Valley of Death (3)
The multi-layered shadow nodded as if it had expected Nathan to sink once more. A complicated wave of inexplicable shame washed over him.
The sensation of ice burrowing into his body was chilling. The cold that crushed his arteries. The exact moment his heart stopped was seared into his memory. Even in that state, he couldn’t be sure there would be any chance to strike back. Still, Nathan clenched his teeth and tried to turn around. No matter how hard he fought, the entrance only drifted farther away.
He was right. Nathan’s eyes slowly closed.
Absurd.
Damn. That’s harsh.
Yeah. Empty.
Nathan gave up and let himself sink. The shadow that swallowed him rose swiftly. Now, at last—just as it should have done from the beginning—the shadow would take his place.
A dark space. The bottom was endlessly deep, and a single exit hovered far above like a mailbox. Once the shadow passed through that opening, Nathan would belong to the shadow. This time for good.
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Mornid snorted, breath steaming. The knight’s body had lost all strength. When he wrenched the axe free from where it had lodged deep, frozen blood crumbled and fell with a brittle crunch. The demon turned away from the fallen knight. This time the bastard would not rise again.
That was what he had thought. The demon ground his teeth and looked back. The knight was there. Yet at the same time he was not. Multiple faces overlapped, multiple voices echoed. It was uncanny. As Nathan’s hair bleached white, the demon at last recalled an ancient memory.
“My father told me about them. The white ghosts of Nordin. Tales of spirits that devour kings. I thought they were stories invented to frighten children, but it seems the ground-dwellers still keep such traditions.”
Whatever wore Nathan’s shell let out a low, mocking laugh.
“Fled? To the heavens? What nonsense is this?”
The overwhelming presence forced the demon to retreat. He understood instinctively. He didn’t know what sorcery the knight had performed, but whatever now inhabited that body was far older than he was.
The knight’s body faltered.
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“What will you do once you’re out?”
Nathan had not reached the bottom of the abyss. He hung suspended, gripping the ankle of the shadow that was trying to climb free. He could not rise, but he could hold on with stubborn strength.
“If this were reality it might be impossible, but inside an imagination it’s easy enough to create a pair of hands. This must be inside my head, so answer me before you leave. What will you do?”
The shadow, gnashing its teeth, decided to play along. A sweet whisper filled the darkness.
“What was I wishing for?”
Nathan nodded.
“Wow.”
Taking the word for consent, the shadow laughed and tried to slip through the passage. But Nathan refused to release it. Power surged into the gripping hand. As the shadow’s hold on the exit began to slip, it panicked and looked down.
Nathan glared back, eyes blazing with fury, clinging to the shadow with every ounce of strength he possessed.
“You’re a fucking ghost, you bastard!”
The ancient shadow flared with rage at the ridiculous accusation.
“Losing my arms wasn’t enough—you want my whole body too? Go eat a flea’s liver, you parasite!”
Nathan understood the situation. Or at least he thought he did. It wasn’t particularly surprising. Serving as a soldier in the Federation sometimes led to possession by abyssal spirits. Years ago, when a haunted house swinging logs had attacked, the same thing happened. His senior knight Till, who led the charge to burn the house down, had been slapped repeatedly for half a day by the vengeful spirits clinging to his arms—until a Heresy Inquisitor arrived to exorcise them.
Nathan decided the same thing had happened to him. He bared his teeth and dragged the shadow downward. The ear-pickers had already taken too much—both hands, Aspen, being dragged across the world to become a forced arena slave. Nothing more could be stolen from him.
“Just hearing it refreshes me. But my revenge is mine to take! If I can’t have it, I’ll bite my tongue and die! Get lost, you specter! My life belongs to me—!”
Nathan hurled the shadow into the abyss.
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“No way.”
The sticky killing intent vanished. Nathan’s strengthless body staggered. The demon frowned.
“No way.”
This had to be the end. There couldn’t be more. He was sick of it. Mornid prayed desperately that this bizarre Sapiens would not produce yet another trick. Why did he keep clinging on? If he was dead, he should stay dead, collapsed exactly as he had fallen.
Rumble.
The sky roared. There was no lightning. From inside the hollow ruin it should have been impossible to miss, yet the creeping dread made the demon stare upward. It wasn’t rain. The revealed sky was clear… clear?
The demon’s mouth fell open. The artificial fog created by the rainfall system was being torn apart. Some tremendous power was ripping the veil aside, exposing the sky. The sun at its center looked like a single glaring eye…
“No.”
The instant he realized that pupil was focused on the ruined building, the demon screamed and tried to flee. No, no. The judgment came too late. Light poured down like a broken dam and struck the earth.
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“I’ll say it again. No.”
Santra sighed. Benny was literally hanging from her arm.
“Even if you drive there by force, I’ll just send you back. You’re the one who told me to follow my heart.”
Santra could not understand Benny. She did not disapprove of an Eleim falling for a human. The problem was the intensity. For people who had met only days ago, it was far too fast and violent.
“I never told you to throw yourself into a stranger’s affairs like a moth to flame.”
“I know enough about who he is and what he means to me. I’ve never been this certain in my life. That’s why I’m begging you. I don’t want to live the rest of my days in regret.”
These emotion-drunk brats. Santra sighed again. If Benny knew his true nature she would probably faint in horror.
“It’s fine. He’ll live.”
At least the shell would. The inside would most likely be hollowed out like a pumpkin by an ancient evil, but that was none of Santra’s concern. That ancient evil was precisely what she wanted most.
Yet the moment a strange ringing like a bell sounded and she turned, Santra realized things were not going according to plan. From beyond the ruins, light was pouring down like a spear. It was something she had believed could never appear in the heavens. The woman ground her teeth.
“But not in this manner.”
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Nathan was lost in a trance. Even surrounded by this much light, his eyes did not hurt. It was brighter than the flash grenade that had ruined Andau’s eyesight. As the brilliant silver radiance soaked into his body, the pain slowly receded. The heart whose passages had been blocked by thin ice began to beat powerfully once more. Nathan realized the miracle he had only heard of was happening to him.
The accumulated faith of the Humanity Sect descends upon you.
The heart beats again. The severed hands are restored. The Rune of Kelsa is engraved once more.
The faith of the Humanity Sect functioned like a bank or an insurance company. Everyone contributed fragments of their will, and those assets were invested where they were most needed. Naturally, the conditions for the door to open were strict. A person could experience a miracle only once in their lifetime, and most never did no matter how virtuously they lived. Fighting to save an elf girl was nowhere near enough. Down below the entire world was a battlefield; if miracles were handed out so freely the balance would have been depleted long ago.
Then what in the world did I do?
His exhausted mind could not find an answer. Defying the demon? Driving out the ghost inside his head? Impossible. Still, throwing the thing had felt satisfying. The sensation of hurling that shadow was still vivid in his palm…
At the feeling of his palm tightening, Nathan blinked.
He looked down at his wrist. It was there, just as it had been in the dream. The sensation of all ten fingers was crystal clear. The prosthetic components that were no longer needed clattered to the ground. Sunlight soaked into the stump and began to weave a new hand, drawing solid lines like a loom. Reconstruction. Perfectly identical to the hand before it was severed—every scar, every mole, every vein. Even the Rune of Kelsa engraved on its back.
While the light faded and the artificial fog once more covered the sky, Nathan remained lost in rapture. So this is what my hands felt like. The things I took for granted were this precious.
Tears shimmered in his eyes. Then his brow suddenly furrowed.
“Wait a minute.”
Across the way the demon was still alive, writhing in agony. The monster that had been burned by the light staggered to its feet, snorting. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t hoped the light would incinerate the beast. But surely they wouldn’t abandon him to face the demon empty-handed again. No one lent money to a man who was obviously going to die.
Nathan looked around. The changes were his restored body and the return of both hands. And…
“After shining so grandly, that’s it? Just the hands?”
Yet when the demon began flailing wildly in the distance, Nathan felt ashamed for having doubted humanity’s collective will even for a moment. Mornid was groping about in pain. Unlike Nathan, the creature’s eyes were still blinded by the glare. Yeah. For his life, this was a pretty good outcome. At least he hadn’t been given extra arms for that bastard too.
“Thank you.”
Expressing gratitude to every kin on the ground, the knight lifted the fallen two-hander.