Ch.37The Betrayer of the Altar (1)

The winged human-faced birds flying in the sky were originally beasts belonging to Diomedes’ group. However, they now served the old man who controlled Diomedes, lending him their eyes and ears.

“…!”

The old man in the purple robe watched vividly through the eyes of the human-faced birds as the chimeras were being torn apart.

He had been thinking since the swordsman with the high-frequency blade began slaughtering the beasts. That he was too powerful to belong to the same company as those half-witted brain-eating chimeras.

If Diomedes held the title of director, then logically, someone stronger would be the president. Yet that swordsman always coordinated with the archer beside him before taking action.

An unusual attitude for a final decision-maker. The possibility of him being the president was low.

Even now, he volunteered for the dangerous task of dealing with other chimeras while provoking Diomedes, his strongest opponent.

The archer simply captured one surviving chimera and merely observed from behind.

This confirmed it.

There might be superiors who take the initiative in dangerous situations. But there cannot be subordinates who just watch their superiors work.

That swordsman is at least not the highest authority at Hydra Company.

‘Then is that archer the president, and the swordsman a director? On the same level as Diomedes?’

The more he thought about it, the harder it was to accept. How could those two be of the same rank?

‘What if that foolish chimera was actually deluded into thinking he was a director?’

The old man stopped his thoughts from drifting into futile imagination. That wasn’t important right now.

Even with thirty-one chimeras, he couldn’t obtain that swordsman’s flesh. There would be no better sacrifice for completing the ritual.

‘No choice. If I deploy more followers, maintaining the ritual would be impossible.’

He would give up on using him as a sacrifice. He would conduct the ritual with the remaining blood and flesh.

‘Since those two might interfere with the ritual, it would be better to wait until they leave.’

It was a foregone conclusion that the archer and swordsman would discover the presence of a controlling force from Diomedes’ corpse. But they were few in number.

The choice was whether the two of them would fight an enemy capable of controlling dozens of chimeras and beasts, or retreat to prepare more thoroughly.

In a situation where they didn’t know where the opponent was hiding or what resources remained, the rational choice would be to withdraw temporarily and regroup.

“And by then, the ritual will already be complete.”

The ritual could be completed if the two intruders were absent for just half a day.

Even if they used mental magic to probe the captured chimera’s memories, it would be meaningless. He had already cleaned out their brains.

No matter how exceptional a magician, they couldn’t analyze the magic cast on the chimeras to find him.

Since he didn’t use magical power to control the chimeras, it wasn’t magic at all.

How could they analyze magic that didn’t exist?

Just as the old man smiled complacently—

“Hmm?”

Ortes began striding forward.

***

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“I’m going to catch the culprit.”

It was an abrupt statement, like skipping the deduction process in a mystery novel and revealing the criminal’s name outright. How on earth did he determine the culprit’s location?

‘Did he do something to the chimera?’

Noiro looked at the caged chimera. No. He hadn’t seen Ortes spray any reagent or cast magic on it.

In fact, not much time had passed since capturing the chimera. Five minutes at most.

During that time, all Ortes had done was briefly stare at the chimera.

‘Can he locate a hidden magician with just a glance?’

Though momentarily doubtful, Noiro decided to quietly accept Ortes’ opinion.

‘What good would it do if I refused to go?’

Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, he’d hear something like “You want to leave a potential threat to the president unattended? Are you in your right mind?” and be dragged along anyway.

The remaining scenario Noiro imagined was a cold purge declaration: “You’re no longer useful, former Director Noiro.”

If Ortes knew this, he would have been incredulous, saying “Do you think I’m some human butcher who eliminates anyone who displeases the president?”

But the cold farewell Ortes had delivered while sending Diomedes to the afterlife had been that shocking to Noiro.

Meanwhile, Ortes was focusing on the mana lines connected to the chimera.

‘That’s unusual.’

Not magical power, but mana.

Typically, mana referred to the “raw material needed to exercise supernatural abilities.” It was a categorical concept encompassing magical power, fighting spirit, and more.

At the same time, mana had another meaning beyond its categorical designation: a term specifically referring to pure supernatural raw material that hadn’t been specially processed.

A dictionary might define it as “natural supernatural energy not calibrated by magicians; the raw material of magical power,” but Ortes felt this world’s dictionaries were too biased toward magicians.

‘Mercenaries also use mana to refine their fighting spirit, after all.’

In other words, methods using unprocessed mana itself were extremely rare.

‘Perhaps divine power handles pure mana in its pristine state?’

Ortes recalled the residual thoughts of the ancient priest he had met at Phoibos’ temple. That person definitely possessed a power different from magical power or fighting spirit.

Fingering the crystal relic in his pocket, Ortes eventually shook his head.

‘No. Divine power was also somehow different from mana. What is this magic-like thing?’

After pondering deeply, Ortes finally made a decision.

‘I’ll have to beat them first and think about it later.’

***

Noiro’s gas mask’s augmented reality display kept sounding alarms. It was warning that something was wrong with the air composition.

‘Magicians who handle plants often spread poisonous spores… Is this some kind of wide-area suppression magic?’

Wait.

Come to think of it, the Holy Investigation Office Chief doesn’t have a gas mask or anything, does he?

“Ortes!”

Alarmed, Noiro rushed toward Ortes to check for symptoms of poisoning.

“Hmm? Are we under attack?”

But Ortes wore his usual indelible smile. There wasn’t the slightest sign of poisoning symptoms like respiratory distress or bloodshot eyes.

“…There seems to be some poison in the air.”

Noiro felt somewhat embarrassed.

“Thank you for that. It seems we’ve come to the right place.”

Poison has been released, yet we’ve come to the right place? Noiro carefully interpreted Ortes’ words.

“I see! A magician’s hideout would naturally have traps to prevent intrusion. Capturing the chimera was to find the location with the strongest scent, like using a detection dog.”

This would explain how Ortes found the enemy’s hideout just by looking at the chimera’s face.

The skill in modifying chimeras indicated deep knowledge of life-based magic of the wood or earth attributes. Such practitioners typically use poisons as defense.

But beasts often consume poisonous plants as food or collect poison components for self-defense. The enemy magician likely used his poisonous plants to feed the chimeras for efficiency.

He found the enemy’s hideout by exploiting the injured chimera’s instinct to find food!

Noiro was impressed by this insight.

‘What exactly did he understand?’

Ortes wondered if that man might actually be a bit of a scatterbrain.

***

‘How…!’

They came straight to the ritual’s core without a moment’s hesitation. Not the center of the magic circle where magical power typically concentrates, but a spot slightly offset to the east.

Detection devices installed around the hideout transmitted voices from above ground.

“Hmm? There are traces of concealment under that stone. Looks like a passage people have used quite often.”

“Indeed. So you were a hunter after all.”

“What do you mean ‘after all’?”

“Ah, sorry. The suit you wear to meetings suits you so well that I almost forgot you were a hunter, Director.”

While monitoring their movements through the human-faced birds’ vision, he had feared this might happen, but to think they would actually track him this far.

A chilling level of intuition.

The old man thought of the followers bound in the sacrifice room. Should he use some sacrifices to fight them?

No. Considering the power they showed against the chimeras, even sacrificing ten wouldn’t be enough to overwhelm them.

“If that many die, there won’t be enough blood to offer to the god.”

Muttering in a gloomy voice, the old man took his grapevine staff and headed to the center of the altar.

No choice. Though the preparations weren’t perfect and part of the circle was damaged, he had to conduct the ritual immediately.

Fortunately, the barrier would take considerable time for them to penetrate. He just needed to complete the ritual, even in abbreviated form, to open the door.

“Great Bacchus, twice-born Bacchus. I offer this blood to you, transform it into wine that promises immortality through rebirth…”

If he had sufficient sacrifices and supplemented the deficiencies with his own abilities—

“What are you doing?”

A voice suddenly interjected.

The old man reflexively summoned divine power. The authority granted by the god of pleasure and wine blossomed. A sticky sweetness mixed with floral scent spread through the space.

It was a holy prayer mimicking the fragrance of divine wine. An intoxicating aroma that would cause anyone to collapse drunk after just a moment’s exposure.

But Ortes remained unshaken.

“A purple robe. You must be quite high-ranking in the Bacchus cult. Isn’t that color only bestowed upon bishops?”

The question delivered in a clear voice. Sikton, the elderly bishop of the Bacchus cult, trembled.

Only those who believed in gods like themselves or—

“You! Dog of the Ten Towers! You’ve tracked us here!”

—the Blasphemia who had slaughtered their comrades would know such details about the cult.

“Now I understand why you were so much stronger than those motley chimeras. You belonged to the Ten Towers…”

***

A resentful voice muttering while glaring at me.

It was the right decision to have Noiro wait above, telling him to relay a message to Carisia if I couldn’t escape.

That man seemed to have an imagination that ran wild in strange directions. Had he heard what this person was saying, he would have embellished my actions with more bizarre fantasies.

‘What I’m sensing here is divine power?’

The energy flowing through the magic circle before I interrupted was definitely divine power. Perhaps it felt somewhat different from what I sensed at Phoibos’ temple because it was a different god.

‘What was that technique that handled raw mana?’

“Please calm down, elder.”

I pulled out Phoibos’ crystal relic from my pocket. It was to create an opening by reassuring the Bacchus bishop, while also drawing out information.

“I am not Blasphemia. If I were such a blasphemer, would I be carefully preserving this sacred relic of Phoibos Proopsios?”

The crystal in my hand emitted light. The old bishop gaped at the sight of the crystal’s radiance.

“A sacred relic of Phoibos? So that’s why the illusion barrier didn’t work—because he was the prophet who sees truth!”

The bishop’s expression, initially surprised, suddenly changed. Somehow, he looked even fiercer than when he mistook me for Blasphemia.

“Then the Pope sent you. If he specifically chose a priest of Phoibos who could see through Bacchus’ illusions, the reason is obvious…!”

I felt perplexed.

Of course, I was surprised that everyone I’ve met lately seems to be committing acts of betrayal against their own organizations.

But the question occupying most of my confusion was different.

‘The Pope is actually real?’

It wasn’t just a fabrication by Blasphemia?