A Life That Is Mine Alone
There is no such thing, you big-eared brat. Nathan tilted his head in confusion. Last words? What was that supposed to mean?
“Do you have some far-off place to visit? With only a head left, it seems like it’d be hard to go anywhere.”
“Uh, Lady Santra? You’re not going to disappear or something, are you? I’m not really familiar with theology or anything like that….”
The god with only a head left frowned as she spoke. As a great soul, she could exist without a physical body, and if someone were to die in the near future, it would most likely be Nathan.
When the other three looked down at her with horrified expressions, Santra corrected herself.
“I have something to say, in case this might be the last time.”
“That’s still unsettling. Very much so.”
“I absolutely don’t wish for it, but since there’s a possibility it could be the last, just in case—goodness. Is this enough?”
Nathan nodded solemnly. “I’ll settle for that much. What is it you want to say?”
Benny, who had been hesitating, eventually brought out tea as usual. However, Santra, whose head rested on the cushion like a crystal ball, quietly declined. Imagining where the tea would spill if there was no esophagus to receive it, Benny felt a wave of dizziness.
“You clearly saw there’s nothing below the neck, so what on earth were you thinking, bringing tea?”
“Well… you’re still speaking even without it, right? Since you’re a god, I thought there might be some way for you to drink it somehow…”
With an expression that suggested she would have shaken her head if she could, Santra’s head let out a sigh.
“Nathan Maia.”
“I’m listening, Head.”
“Do you have any thoughts of suicide? Perhaps you’ve grown afraid of what traps might await you in the hundred battles of the Punishment Arena, or for any reason at all.”
“Why are you picking a fight, you big head.” Nathan bared his teeth. “No lungs to push the air out, so all the bullshit’s piling up at the root of your tongue? Want me to work the bellows in that severed throat of yours?”
As exchanges that could hardly be called conversation flew back and forth, Aspen’s face went slack with disbelief. Santra rolled her eyes.
“If not, that’s fortunate. You must survive as long as possible.”
“The person who was so eager to kill me is now saying that? What kind of wind blew this way?”
“Strictly speaking, I wasn’t trying to get rid of you. I only meant to imprison you along with the Mark of the Beast and use you as a weapon. Like that unfortunate dragon caught by Grendel.”
Benny was shocked by Santra’s words, then doubly horrified by what Nathan did next. He roughly grabbed Santra’s head, stuffed it back into the box, slammed the lid shut, and shook it with all his strength.
When the box opened again, Santra sighed. Her expression held resignation rather than anger.
“Yes. I deserve that.”
“We’ve finally found something we can agree on. So why are you suddenly wishing me a long life?”
“If you die, the Mark of the Beast will resurrect by borrowing another human’s body.”
“What?”
“The power of the Mark of the Beast isn’t just that vile ability to repeat every possibility. Have you heard of ‘reincarnation’?”
It manipulates time and indulges in every possibility life has to offer. It turns every great and filthy act an individual can imagine into reality, then savors the stimulation that blooms from it. Using accumulated power and knowledge to challenge the gods—or sneaking into a lover’s bedroom with underwear pulled over the head and a pocket knife clenched in the teeth—
“Ewww. Crazy. Sorry. It just reminded me of that guy from a few days ago…”
At Benny’s sudden dry heave, Santra’s brow furrowed. Nathan, recalling Ulukabo sneaking into the bedroom, defended her.
“She has a similar experience. Don’t mind it and continue.”
“Anyway.” Santra’s head turned away from the embarrassed Benny. “The moment you accept it, life becomes an easy, simple game. Once you’ve enjoyed it enough, you simply find a new toy. Nothing but simple entertainment.”
So when they’ve had their fill, the host and the demon think: This isn’t fun anymore. The souls that have merged and fused discard the old life and depart in search of fresh stimulation. They leave all the unresolved chaos and tragedy for the world to clean up while they chase after a destiny that promises a passionate existence.
The Mark of the Beast and the souls it commands find a host while the child is still in the womb. They slowly savor and mock the hardships of growth, then, when an unbearable moment arrives, casually whisper the temptation: ‘Shall I help you?’
Nathan, who had experienced that persuasion firsthand, grimaced in disgust. “Ugh, what a creepy bastard.”
If defeat seems likely, it turns back time. If there is no host, it finds a new one. An unreasonable demon that cannot be fought or killed.
“As far as I know, not a single person has ever resisted that temptation. Among them were surely terrible villains and steadfast heroes. But every one of them fell for its coaxing and became something whose original identity is no longer certain.”
Santra let out a sigh. “And yet here you are. Only you have overcome the thing. I wonder why?”
“It feels somewhat proud yet awkward. If you’re going to compliment me, at least look like you mean it. What’s with that face?”
“Of course I’m dumbfounded. Everyone fell for the temptation! The emperor of the ancient empire, the conqueror who subjugated other races, the general who hunted dozens of dragons with a human body! But you? How can a rookie who only knows how to fight be so resolute?”
“Emperor? Dragon slayer? Weren’t they all idiots who fixed their fates with help from that damn ghost anyway?” Nathan wrinkled his nose sarcastically. “So what? You want me to sell my soul to it even now? Is that what you’re hoping for? Bullshit. I absolutely won’t—”
“I absolutely do not wish for that. And now, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. That demon received an enormous shock from your first refusal. Right now it has been reduced to a fragment the size of a fingernail, trapped inside your mind and crying.”
Santra declared firmly. “It has lost most of its power. It will never be able to try to dominate you again.”
At the unexpected news, Nathan scratched his head. Now that he thought about it, the vague sense of discomfort he had felt inside his mind seemed to have peeled away a layer. There had been no major crises since the fight with Morbi, and the thing had been strangely quiet. But could this really be considered only good news?
The patient has an arrowhead lodged in his body. But it’s small, so it probably won’t cause any problems. What? You believed that and got sepsis? Never mind, then.
Santra, reading Nathan’s imagination, looked appalled. “That’s not it, Nathan. Your imagination is quite rich when it comes to the negative side. It cannot exert any influence on your body. Absolutely none.”
“Then it really is perfect good news.”
“However, if you die, it will try once more to reincarnate by borrowing the body of some unfortunate baby. The chance that child could imprison the demon as you have is infinitely low.”
Santra’s voice gradually lowered. “Then, as I told you before, your father Orcus will have to find those babies again and kill them. Before a massive amount of blood flows across the Lower World once more. Because waiting for a moment when they cannot resist is the surest way to handle it.”
The sudden revelation of his father’s crime. Nathan glanced at Aspen. Aspen offered a sad smile of understanding. It seemed he had already heard the full story from Santra. Nathan, the only child who had survived Orcus’s hands, quietly turned his head away.
“A victor’s life that denies every failure and lives forever. Until now I had never seen a single person endure this temptation. There were none who pondered what price would follow such a terrifying thing. Because the price is paid not by themselves but by this world screaming in their place.”
Santra continued with difficulty. “I hate those cowards with all my heart. Because I do not believe that is life. Of course, there are more personal reasons as well. My power springs from the conflict of choices. Every path not chosen is a small death.”
“Abandoning the future is death itself. That’s an interpretation I hadn’t thought of.”
“Only with that abandonment does true value come to reside in choice. What supports your brilliant lives is none other than your own corpses. I am the crow of the crossroads that helps your decisions and feeds on the remains.”
“Oh, that actually sounds pretty cool.”
“Don’t force the cheers.”
Santra’s tongue seemed to be growing heavy with exhaustion. Nathan, sensing something odd, lifted her head and examined the underside. He recoiled at the sight of the small portal attached to the severed neck. Without lungs, Santra was summoning wind from somewhere to substitute for breath. No wonder she was tiring.
“What kind of god—”
“Enough.” Nathan pursed his lips and set her down again. Santra glared at him fiercely for a long moment.
“…Congratulations on becoming a complete human who fears the vision of one’s life flashing before one’s eyes, Nathan Maia. Unlike the humans who became the Beast’s throughout all history, your life is yours alone.”
“That’s right. My life is mine. Thanks for telling me.”
When Nathan added the cheer anyway, the fed-up Santra spat, “Still, I hate you. If I weren’t certain the mark had been neutralized, I would have eliminated you somehow. At the very least, I wouldn’t have sent you recklessly into the Punishment Arena. There is a chance you might fall for the temptation during one of the hundred matches, and right now I cannot control that demon.”
“Oh dear, is that so. Not only the big-eared ones, but even the gods hate me.”
“But it can’t be helped. Three of my children are hoping you will be helped.”
“Children?”
“The believers I hold especially dear. Aspen, Benny. And Morvi Ingr.”
At the unexpected name, Nathan blinked. Who worshipped whom?
“If Morvi was your follower, then is all this—”
“—something I orchestrated? Not at all. Unless it is a special case, I do not interfere with my believers’ judgments one by one. Believers must make choices of value. The moment someone else decides their resolution and abandonment, the light fades from it.”
The Hedonic society that rejected the suffocating system of the Heavenly Church. Naturally, no small number of them were believers of the Crow God. The same was true for the Protector Lord of the North. It was because he had borrowed hands here and there in order to protect Nilly.
“I only sought them when necessary, but a believer is still a believer. A utilitarian believer, one might say. Yet not long ago he suddenly prayed with desperate sincerity. If he were to die, he would offer his cherished sword, so please pass it to Nathan Maia. And then he shot an arrow at me. Damn bastard.”
Santra gently closed her eyes. A portal unfolded across the ceiling, and a sword of red metal plummeted at terrifying speed. Feeling the wind rush against his nose, Nathan quickly stepped back. The sword’s tip sliced through the stone floor like tofu and embedded itself right in front of him.
“And at the final moment he changed his plan, insisting on a one-on-one duel before he died. I had intended for them to swarm you and at least carry your corpse back to the frozen lands, but at some point he erased that plan from his mind entirely.”
There was moisture in Santra’s voice. “Morvi’s final death—abandoning coldness and choosing heat—was abundant. Annoyingly so.”
Strength entered Nathan’s jaw. Reading the complex emotion there, Santra stopped praising Morvi.
“It is a famous sword forged from a mix of mythril and red iron. Mythril is called the strongest metal, also known as the skin of gods. Red iron is also called the iron of traitors. While gold, the king of metals, is an excellent medium for magic, red iron can shatter anything formed of it.”
Nathan picked up the blade and examined it, momentarily speechless. When he had faced it, he had tried not to notice. He had been afraid. But now he saw he had never encountered a sword so light yet so perfectly balanced. It clearly had not received a single maintenance since the bloody battle that day. Iron powder and blood still clung messily to it from the clash. Yet the edge stood terrifyingly sharp, without the slightest bend or scratch. It was impossible by any standard Nathan knew.
In my memory, I’m sure I grabbed the tip with my hand and shattered it at the last moment.
There was no trace of how the hand had been healed. He had no way to understand. After hesitating, Nathan ran his fingers along the blade. From the perspective of someone who had clashed with it directly, it was a masterpiece in every respect. As a fighter, refusing it would be foolish.
But.
Nathan looked back at Aspen. In an instant Aspen hid his sorrow perfectly and raised an eyebrow at Nathan as if to ask why. The gesture was awkward. Of course Aspen knew the reason.
That day, it had not been the fall that cut off Andau’s breath. Even after being pinned beneath the griffin, Andau had struggled with all his might to protect his daughter. Morvi’s sword, offered to ease his pain, had ended his life. A few days ago Aspen had personally buried his father’s coffin—the one with a hole through the chest. There was no way he could be unaffected.
“What will you do? Will you honor the will of an unforgivable enemy and accept that memento, or will you spit on it and refuse?”
Nathan remained silent for a long time before he spoke.
“What do you want me to do?”
“When I judged you as not human, as an enemy of this world and its people, I could threaten and torment you without the slightest hesitation. I even forced abandonment upon the believers who chose you. But I cannot do that anymore. Because you have earned the qualification of a person.”
The god of humans declared, “Choose for yourself. Son of man.”