Omen 6

"Is this from the slave traders...?"

Eugene recalled the immortal mystic art the zealots had used. The mystery that allowed them to fight on even after their vitals were pierced and their throats were slit.

'No. Something's different.'

The power that had turned the zealots into undying beings was a perverse energy, as if transforming a living human into an undead.

By contrast, the blessing now enveloping Might felt warm and somehow nostalgic. As if he had returned to his mother's womb.

Into that space where only warmth and benevolence were permitted, the cold touch of the death god dared not trespass.

[Thanks to you, I have been freed from the false faith that bound me.]

The goddess's voice came into Eugene's mind once more. Though the resonance was strained and laced with noise, as if she was overtaxing herself.

"By false faith, do you mean those slave traders?"

[...To the castle...]

Whatever questions he had could be resolved later. Now was the time to not let this hard-won opportunity slip away.

"The lamias may notice something is wrong at their base and come swarming back. Prepare to leave this place at once."

At Eugene's command, his subordinates began preparations to break camp.

The queen's influence would surely linger even in the immediate aftermath of her death. He had no wish to encounter lamias returning from their conquests across the region.

Might, sleeping as though dead, was loaded onto a small cart. Beside it, a larger cart bore the corpse of the Lamia Queen.

"She was enormous, but being a snake made her easy to load. Once coiled up tight, she didn't require much space at all."

She even looked like the stereotypical cartoon pile of poop. With her scales golden to boot, the mercenaries began whispering among themselves.

However, everyone had seen that Eugene had lost the warhorse who had been with him for so long. Despite the great victory, they held their jokes and watched their step.

To a knight, a warhorse was like a companion of fate, so there was no need to explain how great the fury and sorrow their liege must be feeling now.

"She was so large that we used up all the embalming agent we brought."

Only someone with a close relationship like Rex could speak comfortably.

"You worked fast."

"It's a temporary measure. We split the belly, removed the entrails, and packed the cavity with embalming chemicals. The rest can be done at leisure later."

Piled near the dressed area was the massive quantity of entrails extracted from the queen.

Like an actual snake, an overwhelming portion of her body was made up of internal organs. Once they were all removed, the snake torso became slender and much lighter.

"Is it not both proof of the subjugation to show the city and yet another symbol to adorn the knight's honor? There was absolutely no way we could abandon it."

Rex was resolute. Though his entire body was filthy with the Lamia Queen's blood and fluids, his expression was one of satisfaction rather than disgust.

"Right after you killed the queen, I was tense, thinking you were going to smash her head in on the spot."

"Grudges are grudges, but you've got to secure what needs securing."

Eugene's aura had been so murderous that no one had dared broach the subject. It was the first time any of them had seen him so enraged.

"From now on, speak freely. I'm not the type to find fault over such things."

"Of course. To be honest, your personal renown may be lofty, but the name of your house is not yet widely known, is it?"

"Most would be people who've never even heard of it."

Eugene affirmed it lightly. It was, after all, a house in name only, inherited from Goffrey.

"What's needed at times like this is overwhelming martial achievement. The standing of a knightly house is determined by strength, in the end."

There was a reason newborn knightly houses traveled the circuits of tournaments across the land or threw themselves fervently into life-or-death monster subjugations.

"A Wendigo, a Gnoll Chieftain, and now a Lamia Queen. Guests seeking out the Wandering Castle will be greeted by fearsome monsters the moment the gates open. A kind of pantheon, shall we say?"

"It would be closer to a pandemonium."

Trophies from vanquished monsters were the most effective means of displaying the stature of a knightly house.

This alone was a glory that could not be obtained without producing outstanding knights, regardless of how ancient a house's history or how vast its wealth.

Amid being distraught over Might, Eugene felt only gratitude for such thoughtful consideration.

"Let us dismantle that necklace. I wish to repay your devotion."

Eugene pointed to the trophy hanging around the Lamia Queen's neck. It was woven from the gems and ornaments of countless plundered treasures, so if broken apart, everyone could secure at least one jewel.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but it would be best to leave that necklace as it is. It is already a work of art and a treasure in itself, and I would not wish to shatter it."

The multitude of gems and ornaments were bound together by a substance the Lamia Queen had secreted, hardened like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠amber.

Rex wanted to display it in that very state in the Wandering Castle's hall. The other tribal warriors felt the same.

"The queen's taxidermy and the colossal necklace she crafted. These two are a set. Smashing them for a moment's greed would be far too great a waste."

"It will also help draw in the clans that have not yet joined us. Showing them this once will be more effective than a hundred attempts at persuasion. They'll want to take part in the hunts to come, after all."

The Wandering Castle was already a home for the Black Hand Tribe. It would be an immense source of pride not only for the present family but for the children yet to be born.

Though they were tribal warriors who loved plunder and gold and treasure, they could exercise patience without limit.

For there was nothing in the world more precious than their children's proud smiles.

* * *

The march back for Eugene's army was pleasant. There was not a single battle worthy of the name.

The Lamia Queen, the Raksha tribe, even the desert orcs—the powers that had wielded great influence across the region had all been subjugated in a short span, creating a vacuum of authority.

"A curse this vicious. Even someone like you would have been in danger had you taken it directly."

"It looks as though hundreds of fire ant spirits gnawed away at his body. If such spirits existed, that is."

Regarding Might's appearance on the cart, both Marbas and Eugene wore grim expressions.

Countless blackened, dead veins had risen to the surface. The once-sleek skin had lost ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all vitality and was cracked and split like the heel of an eighty-year-old man.

He looked like the shed skin left behind by a snake or cicada. Might's body was crumbling as though he had been cursed to become a discarded husk while still alive.

The afflictions of the mercenaries who had suffered under the curse in the village were child's play compared to this.

"Horses are timid creatures, you know. Cases where they abandon their masters and flee during a monster hunt are quite common. For a Barsian warhorse, it was already remarkable just to stand firm against a lamia champion, but to lay down its life to protect its master..."

A horse differs from a dog. It is an animal that, while understanding friendship, is far removed from the virtue of loyalty.

That was why the cart where Might lay was piled with flowers that the tribal warriors had plucked along the march. A courageous and loyal warhorse was a treasure among treasures that could not be bought with gold.

"Can you not save him with your Eucharist? As you did when you quenched the flame that consumed me."

Marbas asked, just in case, though he was aware the likelihood was low.

"If I were to define the power I wield in a word, it would be 'rescue.' Saving those starving to death, those sinking and suffocating, those slowly withering away—that is possible."

Eugene reached out and stroked Might. The body was horribly ravaged, as if gnawed from within and without, yet by Vanas's protection, he slumbered peacefully.

"But mending what has already been broken is impossible."

"I'm sorry for making you talk about something so painful."

"It's fine. There is still hope."

Eugene looked toward the direction of the approaching Wandering Castle. He could almost feel the castle's yearning, longing for its master's return.

"The Goddess Vanas told me that if I wished to defy fate, I should return to the castle. She is a goddess, after all; she wouldn't have said it for nothing."

"I never knew you were so devout. When you mentioned a short-term contract, I thought it was a joke."

"I was joking, though."

Marbas looked at Eugene with a bewildered expression.

"You alone heard the goddess's voice, and she even bestowed a miracle like this, did she not? Such a thing is impossible without sincere faith!"

"Well, when I praised the goddess before the village mercenaries, I did speak somewhat earnestly."

-Vanas. In the savage past, she was the first to bring forth tolerance and spread it. Whatever forgiveness or consideration you have enjoyed in your lives ultimately began with her.

At the time, Eugene had launched into a fervent method-acting performance.

Partly to make the bluff perfect, and partly to show due courtesy to the goddess they had welcomed as a member of the castle's household.

But Eugene was one who wielded Otherworld power with unprecedented might. His respectful method acting had become genuine nourishment for the Goddess Vanas.

"The words of a mighty mage naturally carry spiritual weight."

Marbas, now understanding how it had come to pass, let out a hollow laugh.

"If the goddess went so far as to say that, there is surely a way to save Might. Let us hold on to hope."

Varda, who had urged her horse forward to draw alongside him, wrapped her hands around Eugene's right hand.

To a knight, a warhorse was akin to family. And Varda, too, had been with Might since the earliest days of their journey and had grown deeply fond of him.

-I am always grateful. Please, continue to give your strength for my knight.

It was she who had regularly massaged Might, brushed his coat, and cared for him.

Squeeze.

Eugene's left hand was taken by Homi.

He had been with them since their first journey as a knight began in the village of Kingdom's End. Homi, too, felt affection for Might.

"The Castle Lord has returned!"

A short while later, Eugene's army returned to the castle, receiving a fervent welcome from the dwarf guards.

* * *

The people of this world did not believe ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the gods were omnipotent.

With all manner of mysteries lurking everywhere and having experienced the gods' power in the form of miracles, they also knew the limits well.

The existence of the divine was not separate from life, and so perhaps they were forced to face it with a more realistic eye.

Under such circumstances, the assertion of a certain mystic had driven the final nail.

-Does god possess the will to destroy evil but lack the ability? Then god is not omnipotent.

-If god has the power but lacks the will, then such a god is evil and there is no reason to worship them.

Just as places where people live are all similar, the problem of evil had been thrust upon the religious sphere.

But the impact was of a different order from what Eugene had known.

For this was a world where people lived in constant friction with malevolent entities such as evil gods, monsters, and the undead.

The land overflowed with those who were devoured alive or lost their villages to forces of evil that openly defied and mocked their faith.

In such a situation, the priests' words — 'God loves you all and is almighty' — could only be met with doubt.

That was why armed priests and monk knights roamed the world risking their lives to eradicate monsters. Only then could they truly preach divine perfection to the people.

This was why mages who had set foot into mysticism and knowledge regarded religion with even greater contempt.

Conversely, summoners and witches who drew power from otherworldly beings were every bit as deeply reverent as priests.

"Castle Lord. I heard you received the goddess's call."

As they entered the temple where the goddess statue stood, one of the tribal witches greeted them, her face suffused with rapture. She was a young lady who had been captivated by Vanas and had become a believer not long ago.

If the Castle Lord had heard the goddess's voice while on a distant expedition, it could mean only one thing: he had come to share the same faith as she did.

"She granted a blessing to the warhorse who sacrificed itself for me. Thanks to that, I was able to bring it here without pain."

The mercy that granted a stay upon death to provide a time for farewells. At the manifestation of that authority known only through legends of past holy wars, the priestess's eyes brimmed with tears.

"I shall devote myself with sincerity, longing for the day the goddess may deign to commune with me as well."

Hearing the voice of a god was a more difficult feat than manifesting a miracle through a mortal body.

Not even she, who could be called the sole priestess at present, had ever heard a single word from Vanas.

"Goddess. I have come here by your guidance. What must I do? What can you do for me?"

As if in answer to those words, an intense mysticism radiated from the goddess statue. It meant one thing.

Eugene approached ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the goddess statue as his instinct commanded and extended his hand. But just before he touched it, he stopped.

"Why do you hesitate?"

"...Something just occurred to me."

Eugene withdrew his gaze from the bewildered priestess. She wore nothing more than a thin robe.

"Cassandra. Would you come over here?"

"As you wish, Castle Lord."

Cassandra, who had been watching with interest, approached with quick short steps at Eugene's summons.

"Apologies, but could you take off your outer coat?"

"...?"

Though puzzled, Cassandra removed the long leather coat she wore and handed it over. She wore a sleeveless top beneath, revealing her well-developed shoulders and arms.

Eugene folded the coat neatly and held it close to his chest, as if it were something precious.

"I don't know what this is about, but I don't feel bad about it."

Cassandra giggled at the sight.

After that, Eugene touched the leg of the goddess statue. The mysticism — alien yet filled with goodwill — attempted to enter his body through the touch.

He could have resisted and pushed it back had he wished, but Eugene did not, accepting it quietly instead.

At that, Cassandra's laughter ceased. The people who had come to watch disappeared along with the quiet, sacred temple around them.

Eugene found himself in a different space, still in the posture of kneeling. He was alone in an ancient-style temple built of stone pillars standing in the open air.

'So I've been called into the Goddess Vanas's mental world after all.'

Eugene had grown up in a monastery of the Orthodox Church and had heard countless tales of communion between gods and mortals.

The moment he saw the mysticism radiating from the goddess statue and touched it, he had guessed what would happen.

Pad, pad.

The sound of bare feet brushing against a stone floor reached his ears. A beautiful woman resembling the goddess statue exactly was approaching.

Vanas's expression was nothing short of affectionate, yet there was also a hint of embarrassment visible.

'I hardly know where to rest my eyes.'

Her attire was also the same as the statue's. The scrap of cloth covering her voluptuous body was far too small.

A god is a being that is mighty yet bound by human imagination. Fallen as she was, she could not refuse the garb that later believers had fancifully imagined for her.

* * *

From the moment Vanas had been born as a god, she had never encountered a being who could accept the power of the Otherworld as well as Eugene. Therefore, calling a human into her domain was also a first.

Gods with mighty religious followings could sometimes arrange such meetings through the great priests who appeared from time to time. But for the fading Vanas, it was the stuff of dreams.

She had wished to show the dignity befitting a deity at this long-awaited moment, yet she found herself clad in such lewd attire.

The corners of Eugene's mouth rose at the sensation of the leather coat held against his chest. His preparation on the off chance had proven worthwhile.

"Goddess Vanas, I thank you for the goodwill you have shown me and Might."

Eugene knelt on one knee and raised both hands in a respectful offering. Upon them rested Cassandra's leather coat.

"I have brought you an offering. Please, accept it."

"!!!"

At the wholly unexpected gift, the goddess's eyes rounded wide. But soon, a broad smile bloomed across her face as she rejoiced.

With trembling hands, she accepted the coat, wrapped it around herself, and examined her appearance from various angles.

Then, as if suddenly aware of her undignified behavior, she composed herself.

And then, carefully, she extended her hand toward the head of the kneeling Eugene.

[Your castle is alive.]

It was not a voice. Eugene could sense her will through the palm of the goddess's hand that touched his head.

[All life dreams of conception. Somewhere in the castle lies her womb. Take your dear friend there. My grace shall ever be with you.]

When those words ended, Eugene felt the scenery around him return to reality.

Everyone surrounding Eugene was staring at him with faces full of astonishment.

Crack.

"Castle Lord. The clothes..."

The priestess pointed to the leather coat crumbling away like ash within Eugene's embrace.

"I met the goddess and offered it as tribute."

"Oh heavens!"

Leaving behind the priestess who covered her mouth with a face full of deep emotion, Eugene offered his apology to Cassandra.

"I'm sorry. I never imagined it would be destroyed."

"Clothes are expendable things anyway."

Cassandra shrugged her shoulders.

"I'll make it up to you with better garments."

"You'll choose them personally, Castle Lord?"

Cassandra clasped her hands behind her back and leaned her upper body forward with a smile.

"My fashion sense isn't particularly good. Will that be alright?"

"You only need to choose according to your own taste, Castle Lord. That is what these clothes are for, after all."

Not only had she witnessed an intriguing spectacle, but she had also put Eugene in her debt — even Cassandra seemed pleased.

* * *

One soul, two bodies. That was the relationship between Eugene and the Wandering Castle, but many places within the castle still lay shrouded in mysticism and veils.

The castle had been submerged in the Otherworld for a long time. Even now, after being raised into the mortal realm, there existed places deeply saturated with that influence.

For an ordinary person to feel a chill just by approaching was nothing at all.

If one carried food there, it would lose its taste in an instant, as if it had been offered up as someone's tribute.

Poltergeist-like phenomena would occur, and people often lost their sense of direction as well.

-It's like ground where puddles have pooled after rain. The castle still holds the Otherworld within it, and it will take time for all of it to drain away.

Following Marbas's advice, entire passages had been sealed off, and the residents were restricted to permitted areas only.

And today, Eugene tore down one of those barriers.

"Got the shivers."

The dwarf warriors carrying Might shivered at the atmosphere of the area they had never visited before.

The place they were going to now was the most unstable region in the Wandering Castle, where turbulent energies swirled violently.

"Be at ease. Nothing in this castle shall harm you."

Eugene soothed his subordinates as he advanced in the direction the mystical energy led him.

But the dwarves kept anxiously surveying their surroundings, their beards bristling repeatedly. Even without magical talent, they were a people who perceived the world acutely through their beards.

'Seems the castle is displeased.'

The master, Eugene, might not feel it, but they could sense that their intrusion was not welcomed.

Yet they could not very well give in to fear and withdraw when their liege had guaranteed their safety and was taking the lead. At last, they reached a chamber.

"What in the world is that?"

"A flower?"

Inside the chamber bloomed something vast resembling a lotus.

What made it uncertain to call it a flower was not only its immense size but also the fact that each petal looked like living flesh. There were even veins bulging here and there upon it.

Through the trembling of the air that touched their beards, the dwarves could tell that this meat flower was pulsating. Beneath it lay a pond.

"A peculiar smell."

"Sort of briny, too..."

The dwarves sniffed, their beards twitching. As a people of the earth, they boasted a sense of smell that, while not quite equal to the beastkin's, was still quite exceptional.

Rumble.

In that instant, the chamber shook.

"You've done well coming this far. Go on back."

Eugene dismissed them. He could feel that the castle disliked the dwarves entering its innermost reaches.

"But for the Castle Lord to move the warhorse alone... Well, it looks like there's no problem."

The dwarves, who had briefly fretted while looking at Might's bulk easily exceeding half a ton, quickly agreed and withdrew.

Once the dwarves were gone, Eugene removed his shoes and gathered Might into his arms. Might still lay without the slightest movement, its consciousness suspended between death and sleep.

Splash.

As Eugene's bare foot stepped into the pond, a lukewarm liquid with a faint viscosity coiled around him.

The flower of flesh spread its petals wide and guided Eugene into its embrace.

Going deeper into that place, Eugene recalled a horror story he had read in the distant past.

It was a tale about a beloved cat that died and was buried in a pet cemetery, only to return to life the next day because a magical force flowed through that ground.

Except it returned as something that merely wore the shape of a cat.

"A story is just a story."

Eugene laid Might down upon the Meat Flower and kissed its cheek.

Rustle.

The petals of flesh that had been in full bloom rose up and began to envelop Might.

"If things go wrong, I will grant you rest."

Eugene stepped back and gripped the hilt of Last Autumn, which hung at his waist, firmly.

[I will guide you. So that the body and soul of your dear friend shall not lose their way.]

At that moment, Vanas's voice echoed reassuringly in Eugene's mind.

[It shall return to your embrace in a form stronger and more beautiful.]

To manifest a miracle at the boundary between death and life was Vanas's divine authority.

At this very moment — with the Wandering Castle's womb serving as the medium — a miracle was about to manifest in a different form.