Ch.152152. Wanted (2)

Aryen took the attack from the evil god worshippers in place of Bishop Andre. Somehow, it seemed both unlike him and exactly like him at the same time. I was lost in thought, my head bobbing with the carriage’s movements, unaware of how the scenery around me was changing.

Isila remained silent. She wasn’t particularly watching my reactions. She simply wouldn’t initiate conversation unnecessarily if I didn’t speak first.

Clunk.

The carriage suddenly stopped. I snapped out of my thoughts and turned my head forward. The carriage continued to rattle while standing still. The horse whinnied. I could hear the flustered coachman trying to calm the animal. The sliding door connecting the driver’s seat and passenger compartment opened, and the coachman poked his head in.

“Um, passengers. The horse isn’t listening to me right now…”

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. It’s stopped and absolutely refuses to go forward.”

The scenery outside was ordinary. A path with sparse shrubs. The grass was twisted yellow and white at the tips. And about a hundred meters ahead, a village began. The horse was looking toward the village, turning its head anxiously left and right, gripped by fear.

“The horse is anxious. I’m sorry, but if I force it any further…”

“Yes, I understand. We’ll make our own way from here.”

Isila followed me out of the carriage. The coachman struggled to turn the horse around and began heading back the way we came, leaving us standing alone on the path, looking toward the village.

“That village—evil god worshippers either converted all the original residents into followers or killed them.”

Isila spoke first as she walked ahead. Her voice was as dry as if printed words were speaking.

“The dead were gathered and burned.”

Saying there would be no one left, Isila entered the village. The village looked perfectly intact, as if only the people had been removed from the scene. The shops, the market, the goods displayed on boards—everything remained as it was. Isila led me into a building.

“And here is where they fought against them.”

Blood, corpses, and more blood.

I stood dazed in the middle of the hallway, looking around. Too much information flooded in at once, making my head ache. The smell of blood, the stench of decay, remnants of ominous magic, someone’s severed leg, the bodies of inquisitors who had died leaning against the wall. I closed the eyes of an unnamed inquisitor.

“[…Something terrible happened here.]”

It was a massacre in the literal sense. There appeared to be at least twenty bodies strewn about. Among them were faces I recognized and people whose names I knew.

“It seems not everyone died. There were more people at the scene than these.”

Isila seemed to handle their deaths with composure. But I could clearly see a shadow that passed momentarily through her eyes.

“I don’t see the Bishop anywhere. I wonder if he escaped alive.”

“I don’t know. I believe the Bishop wouldn’t fall so easily, but…”

Isila’s voice trailed off. Though her voice showed no change, I knew well that her feelings were quite different.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. We exist through killing. That’s why being killed by someone is the inevitable fate of inquisitors. That’s how we’re trained, what we believe.”

For them, death was a duty. What about Marianne? She must have lived with this mindset too, before meeting me and traveling the world together. Education, or rather brainwashing, to detach emotions from death. Ironically, that was their way of survival.

“There’s more than one sign of people leaving the building. That means others besides Aryen managed to escape. If they left signals, we should be able to tell where they fled.”

Having erased even that trace of shadow, Isila began searching for clues. Meanwhile, I went deeper inside. The evil god worshippers’ final hideout. I stared at a door marked with what looked like scratch marks. What had happened behind that door?

“[The magical energy feels ominous, Ilroy. Don’t stay too long.]”

“I understand. I’ll investigate a bit more and then leave.”

There was a strange stain on the floor—blood or something else—drawn like a brush stroke. The mark formed a reversed pentagram. Apart from that, the room was small and completely empty.

“…Are we being mocked?”

“[Their object of worship exists. The worshippers all clearly feel its presence. They don’t need complex rituals or altars to chase after a non-existent being.]”

The Holy Sword added in a bitter voice.

“So they left it empty for that reason. You mean they don’t need idols.”

The room was cool, like stepping into a refrigerator. Pitch-black darkness without a trace of light. With each breath, the strange magical energy instinctively lunged at my heart, then dissipated like smoke when it hit my mana. I slightly raised my magical power to examine the residual energy’s reaction.

“It’s not backing down.”

Far from retreating, the room’s residual magic turned distinctly hostile. I furrowed my brow at the intense killing intent bubbling throughout the space. A void deeper than darkness gathered in the center of the reversed pentagram, writhing like tentacles twisted into a ball of thread.

“This feels different from the Calamity. It actually seems more dangerous. What is that thing?”

“[…It’s the remnant of an evil god. Ilroy, it would be best not to approach it.]”

The Holy Sword warned in a low voice. Somehow the door behind me was now closed, and the lantern’s light was flickering and growing dim. The light itself seemed to tremble in fear.

“[Call upon your crown. You need to be alert.]”

I shook my head slightly. I had already recognized that the energy was strange. But beyond that, I felt the need to explore it further.

“No, wait. I want to try something.”

“[What experiment—]”

Before the Holy Sword could finish, I stepped toward the mass of magical energy. The mass prepared itself like a living creature. I dropped all my defensive mechanisms against it—the crown, the pulsing of magical energy, the tension in my body. The darkness began to writhe and approach slowly.

“[Ilroy, I said it’s dangerous.]”

“I need to confirm something.”

Darkness. Or something darker than darkness. Perhaps the primordial chaos that existed before light was created. It approached me very slowly. Like a python carefully observing its prey before striking. Its tongue made a hissing sound like sharp metal. I heard the Holy Sword saying something, but I didn’t answer and took another step forward.

It’s been a while.

An eerie voice echoed in my ears. I had somehow entered deep into the darkness.

I thought I’d throw out bait to see if you’d bite, and you really did.

Was this voice the source of the magical energy I found so unsettling?

But you’ve changed.

A deep voice, impossible to tell if male or female. The voice seemed to come from within me, yet also faintly from very far away. That indescribable sense of distance sent chills down my spine like ice being rubbed against my back. Each breath I took felt sharp. I frowned at the sensation of my throat being scraped with sandpaper.

Child, why are you still like this?

The word “child” grated on me. I deliberately spoke in a strong voice, widening my eyes. If I just listened quietly, I felt I might lose my mind. Had Aryen suffered something from this darkness entity here?

“Don’t call me with fake familiarity.”

It’s natural to fear darkness, child. You needn’t be ashamed.

“Aren’t you ashamed? Hiding and not showing yourself.”

A laugh erupted, as if mocking my words. That voice’s laughter was beyond grotesque. It was more irritating than the sound of a metal spoon scraping wet porcelain. It gave the impression of something inhuman forcibly imitating a human. Or perhaps a being that could imitate humans perfectly deliberately trying to grate on my nerves.

Child, what are you saying?

After laughing for a while, the voice spoke again. I thought that thing darker than darkness had formed something resembling a smile.

I am the darkness. Or more precisely, darkness is merely a part of me.

The voice saying “I” carried a certain resonance. Transcendence. Something that could only be explained by its existence. A being that could make the world tremble in fear simply by identifying itself.

Do you understand, child? What is happening now?

I felt a strange sensation at my feet. Like a giant octopus extending its tentacles to wrap around my ankles. I remained still, letting the octopus-like darkness entwine my feet. Completely still. But the darkness couldn’t approach any further. I shook my ankles vigorously.

“You know what?”

I’d finished my reconnaissance. No time to play along with these games anymore.

“For all your boastful talk, you’re quite weak, aren’t you?”

Crackle.

A golden circle appeared above my head. The darkness surrounding me crumbled and scattered. As I approached, the darkness retreated, and I cornered it until it had nowhere to go.

The fire is far away, yet you claim to have extinguished it by stepping on ashes.

“Then will you at least tell me where that fire is?”

Laughter again. This time with a hint of amusement, as if finding me endearing.

You will soon meet that twisted one, child. Everything follows a predetermined path. Especially in your case, child. You might as well be bound to that predetermined path.

“You make it sound like you tied me to it.”

Not so, child. I too am firmly bound to that path. You should know that the more absolute a being is, the less free it is from the shackles of fate.

The voice spoke with laughter. The darkness was gradually crumbling, but the voice remained.

I can no longer remain here. We’ll meet again anyway.

The darkness had one last handful remaining, lurking in the corner of the room. I slowly raised my foot and stepped on the darkness that no longer spoke. There was a hissing sound like water being poured on dying embers.

Flicker, flicker.

The lamp’s light returned. With a paler blue than before, the lantern illuminated the room solemnly. I dispelled the halo and sighed. A chilly, unsettling feeling lingered in the space.

“[Ilroy.]”

The Holy Sword’s voice finally reached me. Its voice was cold, filled with both concern and anger. Coming to my senses, I realized my hand was gripping the Holy Sword’s hilt tightly.

“[Didn’t I tell you not to do that?]”

“I’m sorry.”

I looked down at where the darkness had been. Nothing remained. All that was there was a shadow, simply a reaction to the light.

“[I told you it was dangerous, didn’t I?]”

The Holy Sword’s voice was agitated. It was concerning enough to worry me. I gently tapped the end of the hilt and lowered my voice. To think the day would come when I’d have to comfort this thing. The world might end tomorrow.

“It’s okay. I’m not hurt at all.”

“[…Didn’t I tell you not to do that?]”

It’s okay.

I unhooked the Holy Sword from my waist and embraced it. To get even a little closer.

Click.

“…Did something happen?”

I heard Isila peeking in, and I turned to meet her eyes. Isila looked strangely at the Holy Sword in my arms, tilting her head, then gestured outside with a nod.

“I found traces.”

There was a slight hint of light in her voice.

“The Bishop is still alive.”