Chapter 34
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: Kuncan's Gift
-----------------------------------------------------------------
#
With a loud crash, the table overturned. A man had knocked it over as he shot to his feet. It was Tapio, the man who had guided Ulrich’s party to the hut, his eyes thick with suspicion.
But now, Tapio was trembling uncontrollably. Suspicion had given way to shock, confusion, and fear on his face. The man and woman beside him were the same, as was the group of a dozen or so behind them.
Their secret was out. A truth that should never have been revealed was now exposed, and they must have seen the future that awaited them.
“R-run—”
someone began to say.
“And where would you go from here?”
But Ulrich’s words cut them off.
Roberta watched this through a crack in the window. Peeking into the hut, faintly lit by candlelight, she rested her right hand on the sword at her hip.
“Priestess,” Fritz whispered beside her. His tone asked if they, too, should go inside. She thought for a moment before shaking her head.
Tapio and his group showed no hostility. They had only stumbled back in surprise. They had no weapons, and even if they did, it would have been meaningless. Who would dare threaten Ulrich, a man whom even the monsters of the ice peninsula could not harm?
*‘Perhaps I'll get to see a different side of him.’*
Besides, Ulrich had never resolved an incident like this on his own before. How would he unravel this story in a place where she was not present? She was curious. A story he hadn't shown her, one he hadn't told her, might come to light.
Roberta studied Ulrich's expression. It was calm. He simply let his gaze fall on the three people before him and on each of the dozen or so strange beings in the group. His eyes betrayed no interest, no surprise, no disgust—no emotion at all.
After a long standoff, Tapio was the first to speak.
“...What are you going to do with us?”
“That depends on what you do.”
Ulrich pulled over a fallen chair and sat down. He leaned against the back of the chair and clasped his hands. At his relaxed posture, Tapio seemed to let out a long breath, some of his tension easing.
“I know what you’re worried about. That I’ll call you monsters and punish you here and now, or that I’ll leave this place and report you to the diocese. Is that not it?”
Tapio slowly nodded.
“You are—”
“Armin.”
He stated his name curtly.
“Armin... sir.”
Tapio hesitated before continuing with the honorific.
“Will you not dispose of me and these children?”
“Why should I?”
There was no answer. He looked as if he were at a loss for words.
“Because those children are monsters? Is that what you want to ask?”
“...I thought you would naturally think so.”
“It is not natural to me.”
Ulrich shook his head.
“It was Kuncan, wasn't it? The one who made you this way.”
The group let out a collective gasp of shock.
“No... that’s not it. We were affected by the swamp—”
“Do not lie.”
Cutting off the excuse, Ulrich continued.
“There is a flow. You may not feel it, but I do.”
He met the gaze of Tapio, who was gasping for breath.
“On the day the divine powers were extended from the heavens to the earth, Kuncan was there as well. That is why his influence remains even now that he is gone. In the form of mana, just like the other gods.”
Kuncan. He was an evil god, but he had been a key figure in the creation of the world.
He was the twin brother of Dieus, the King of Heaven, yet he was a creator who became the master of hell.
He was the wicked one who rebelled when the gods debated how to protect the pitiful life below from their heavenly realm.
He rejected the heavens' resolution and swayed Takna and Galpa. The three fought for their cause but were defeated. They were banished to the world the scriptures call hell.
Thereafter, the three of them were called evil gods by the creations of the heavens.
“The gods of the heavens each have a different flow. I can distinguish between them. The flow I feel from you belongs to him.”
“...”
“He always had a great interest in humans. Because Hestio is human. Just as Ganymea showed mercy to her adopted race, he too, in his own way, bestowed mercy upon the humans he considered more kin than his own brother.”
Though it was mercy by his standards alone, Ulrich muttered to himself. The hut was silent, and outside, the night was so still that even the sound of insects had ceased, so Roberta heard him clearly.
*‘Brother, he said?’*
The claim that the evil god had considered Hestio a brother made her open an apocryphal text she had locked away in the depths of her memory. Because what Ulrich was saying resembled the contents of a certain apocrypha.
The name of that apocrypha was the Knolseo.
It depicted the moment the gods of the heavens departed for paradise.
It was the story of Kuncan appearing to persuade Hestio as Dieus tried to take Hestio with him to paradise. Hestio does not fall for Kuncan’s temptation and ends the story by vowing to remain on earth and await the heavens’ return.
But its contents were too unorthodox. It described the evil god who had been banished to hell returning, however briefly, to the heavens, and it portrayed the relationship between Hestio and the evil god as intimate.
It was only natural that the Pantheon had designated the Knolseo as apocrypha and ordered it burned. Roberta had only seen it once during her education at the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith.
Her memory dredged it up.
The Knolseo recorded Kuncan’s words as follows:
“I consider you closer and understand you better than Dieus, with whom I was born. My brothers and sisters love you, but they do not understand your will. Can you truly be happy with them?”
Fritz glanced at Roberta.
Her expression was stiff.
“That is why Kuncan’s power—no, his mana—is generous to humans. Even a human with no talent can easily draw it forth if they call in Hestio’s name.”
At the word *call*, the color drained from Tapio’s face.
“It was drawn here because one of you called it. Kuncan answered your call.”
“N-no, that's not it! These children are not followers of an evil god!”
Tapio cried out as if in a frenzy. He had no choice. There was nothing more terrifying than being considered a follower of Kuncan.
The Pantheon was wary of all evil gods, but Kuncan was on another level. Whenever his instruments appeared, they always left a massive footprint.
Who brought about the end of the age of elves? It was Kuncan’s instrument. And who brought about the end of the first age of man? This, too, was Kuncan’s instrument.
For that reason, the Pantheon showed no mercy to anything even remotely connected to Kuncan. One would be better off being excommunicated.
“Yes. I know. You would not have called upon him willingly.”
Ulrich walked toward the group.
As he took a step, the group took a step back. But they were in a room with only one door. With Ulrich’s back to the door, they could not leave without getting past him.
“What would you gain by calling him? Kuncan seeks chaos. He is one who left because he rejected the order of the heavens. Few would desire the power left behind by such a being.”
The group, imbued with the mana of the evil god Kuncan, backed into a wall, unable to retreat further. Ulrich stopped in front of one of them and knelt on one knee. Even so, he had to look down at the small monster—no, the young child.
The child barely resembled a human. Its lower body was that of a goat, its face had a cat-like snout, and deer antlers grew above its two ears.
“Behold. This is the gift of Kuncan, the god of chaos. You embraced chaos unwillingly, and you had no power to control it. It is only natural that you would face change.”
As if to tell the trembling child not to be afraid, Ulrich stroked its head with a gentle smile.
“And what called the chaos was a sacrament, I presume.”
He added the words, a false sacrament.
It was a sacrament performed by one who had not been ordained.
“Because a child who could not serve as a bridge became a bridge between the heavens and humanity, that bridge allowed a being who should never have been able to cross to do so. Allowing the power of Kuncan—not Dieus, Ganymea, or Keme—to be instilled.”
Am I wrong? Ulrich seemed to ask as he looked at Tapio.
#
Tapio’s breath came in ragged gasps. His heart pounded from the shock and fear, and his face was flushed. He looked at the nameless young man, Ulrich. As Ulrich knelt before his friend’s son, their eyes met.
When he had guided the three of them to the hut late that afternoon, Tapio had paid Ulrich no mind. He couldn't, even if he had wanted to. A priestess of the goddess Ganymea was with him.
This village had a secret, a secret that must not be seen by a priestess. The same went for anyone else, but at least with others, there was a chance to persuade them. Not so with a priestess.
The village was made up of residents who could hardly be called human. The reason for their appearance was something the Pantheon could never accept. Therefore, it had to be hidden.
“There were not a few like you. I have seen many who clung to false sacraments, knowing it was a futile act but having nothing else to turn to, only to regret it later.”
And yet, the truth was out.
The young man he had dismissed as some noble's son enjoying a genteel journey with a priestess had discovered the village's secret. He had even discovered a truth the village itself did not know.
*‘It’s over. It’s all over.’*
No, perhaps it wasn't the end.
Ulrich hadn’t proven a thing. He was merely making assertions. He had to insist it was the influence of the swamp, not an evil god, and that he had never performed a false sacrament.
He had to act, with venom in his heart. What if Ulrich met with the priestess? What if the priestess left the village? The village would be finished. The Pantheon would dispose of them. Without a shred of mercy.
“...You are right.”
But Tapio confessed.
“I was the one who administered the sacrament to them.”
He let his head fall limply. It was to avoid Ulrich's gaze. The moment their eyes met, he was powerless. Ulrich’s expression was blank, his tone serene. Yet Tapio felt an unbearable pressure.
He took a palm-sized, circular seal from his robes and showed it to Ulrich. It was engraved with the symbol of Dieus, the King of Heaven. Ulrich took it and nodded.
“An acolyte. You were never ordained, were you?”
“No... I didn't have the chance to attend the ordination ceremony.”
It was during the civil war, Tapio explained.
“As the civil war dragged on, even the priests of the Ecumenical Church could not be guaranteed safety. It was a time when apostates disguised themselves as bandits and attacked temples.”
The temple where Tapio had served was plundered during that time. Even in a world where the existence of gods was certain, greed made a mockery of it. While the head priest was being murdered, Tapio barely managed to escape with his life.
He never imagined the civil war would last for thirty-two years, so he decided he only needed to hide for a short while. So instead of leaving Osnover, he sought a safe haven within the kingdom.
That place was this village, beyond the swamp.
“This place, always shrouded in mist, has long been the subject of strange rumors. Thanks to that, there was little traffic, and it received almost no attention throughout the war.”
But that wasn't entirely a good thing.
Forgotten, they escaped the flames of war, but forgotten, they also received no aid.
“The problem was... the diocese paid us no mind. They were cautious, saying there was a civil war and apostates were rampant. Even when I risked the journey to plead with them, they just kept putting it off.”
One year, then two, passed without a priest visiting.
Soon, it had been six years.
“Think about it. We went six years without performing a sacrament.”
It was an impossible, unacceptable situation. If there was no priest, who would connect the heavens and humanity?
“The dying must confess their sins to be cleansed, but they could not. Newborns must have their names recorded in the heavens, but they could not. This situation continued for six years.”
The Ecumenical Church teaches that heaven and hell exist.
Heaven is where the benevolent gods departed, and hell is where the evil gods were banished. The teachings of the Ecumenical Church hold that the faith and good deeds a person accumulates in life determine their afterlife.
“At least the dead who could not confess their sins can receive the sacrament for their souls in the afterlife. Isn't that what the Pantheon teaches?”
That's what they taught, Ulrich muttered.
“But what about the children? You know how different the development of a baby who has received the Infant Sacrament is from one who has not, don't you? And this place is right next to that demonic mire.”
Tapio pointed in the direction of the swamp. Before the civil war, it had been nothing more than a hollow that occasionally sent out fog, but after numerous battles, the corpses piled up and the mana congealed, affecting the surrounding area.
The village suffered from several plagues. The adults, having received the sacraments, got off with little more than an upset stomach or a fever. After one plague swept through, they developed immunity, and it was no longer a major problem.
The babies were different. The babies who had not received the Infant Sacrament simply wasted away.
“In those six years, among the children born in that time... not a single one lived to see the seventh year without a priest. All because of a phenomenon we wouldn't even deign to call a plague!”
Tapio raised his voice as if venting his resentment.
“So you performed the Infant Sacrament. Knowing you shouldn't have?”
“...Yes. I did. What else was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to accept watching those lives slip away so meaninglessly?”
The civil war showed no signs of ending. A priest's visit was uncertain. Without the Infant Sacrament, they couldn't survive. Tapio thought, if death is certain anyway, what reason is there not to perform the sacrament?
“The people here couldn't understand the concept of a priest who hadn't been ordained. They couldn't accept why someone wearing priest's robes was unable to record a name in the heavenly ledger.”
Tapio was asked. To bestow the Infant Sacrament.
He had refused for six years, but in the seventh year, he accepted.
And Kuncan answered the call.