Does believing make something that wasn’t there suddenly appear?

‘One thing before leaving.’

Ganian Astora.

There’s probably no one greedier than him on this continent.

‘May I ask just one thing?’

He was once a man who wanted to save everyone, and even knowing he couldn’t achieve that, he tried to save as many people as possible.

He chose to continue the war because of such a theory of salvation.

It doesn’t consider status, rank, environment, or criminal record.

Of course, cursed beings who can never be welcomed by the world, and even monsters who could kill him at any time are no exception.

An ally among allies who might be considered good as an individual, but foolish as a leader.

‘You would cut down your father without hesitation even if he appeared as an enemy, right?’

But that’s probably why he asked such a question at that time.

Because he understood her more objectively than even her husband, who was bound to her by love.

‘Dad is already dead. Even if he reappears, he’d just be a puppet wearing a skin.’

‘But it would be made with your father’s body.’

‘Does sewing meat from a butcher shop make it a pig?’

‘…Yes, I suppose nothing matters to you except Sion.’

She abandoned affection for the country, loyalty to leaders, and even pride in her family.

She’s lived looking only at love.

No one would understand such a woman setting out to take revenge on those who defiled her memories.

‘But why… Why are you trying to draw your sword now?’

Why she’s trying to set foot in that place that has risen as a symbol of peace.

Why she, who would choose seclusion considering others’ circumstances even if war broke out again, is now drawing her sword trying to save people she’s never even met.

‘That’s…’

Celia didn’t avoid only that question.

The reason is simple.

Answering that question.

Would mean that the only emotion she feels, as someone already broken as a human, remains clear until the moment this life ends.

---

-Splash.

The short journey that started from there.

At the end of it, in the darkness she arrived at, she felt something different from before.

It probably wasn’t a space intentionally created by designers. There was nowhere around here where water could flow.

Even the passage leading here wasn’t naturally opened, but rather closer to being opened after being neglected outside the scope of management because it was too deep.

Water flowed even in such neglected places, and such flowing water would sometimes fall into spaces formed in this underground.

Mostly debris heavier than water…

What accumulated due to that was left for a long time until the moisture evaporated, and those remains were left for a long time, decaying and turning into a swamp of filth.

“…My, I didn’t think there would be another visitor reaching here besides me.”

Celia, who reached that place, soon gazed at someone sitting on a mound of filth placed in the center.

An old man in a hood who withdrew his hands clasped in prayer as soon as he recognized her presence.

“How is it, this place… Isn’t it a good place?”

Is the gentleness felt in that voice a sign that he doesn’t even see her as a threat?

Her, who cut down in one stroke all the forces laid out on the way here, even the ‘best guard’ he could prepare?

“A good place, you mean this place?”

“Yes, it’s a very good place.”

Though it feels like entering a sanatorium, what she felt was a stench so nauseating it made her want to vomit.

It’s only natural.

This was a sedimentation site where all the filth existing on the continent gathers, waiting only to be concentrated to the limit.

“They say that in the underground of this waterway located in the center of the continent, all useless things are filtered and flow in. As much flows in, you might find something valuable if you search.”

Nevertheless, the old man spoke nonchalantly and took out something from the mound of filth he was sitting on, displaying it in front of Celia as if to show her.

It was a human bone. Moreover, one that had been dead for decades with severe weathering.

Maggots were even hanging in lines on the hair clinging thickly to various parts of it.

“How about it, isn’t it amazing?”

The old man demanding sympathy towards him while holding up such a bone fragment.

Just by seeing that, she could understand.

That countless things that could be called traces of people, like what’s grasped in that old man’s hand, exist in this deep underground.

‘Come to think of it, during the war they would dispose of troublesome corpses by letting them flow into rivers.’

Besides that, there are also instances of graveyards being washed away and destroyed by tidal waves, so there are countless opportunities for things that could be called corpses to flow in through waterways.

Even if not in a complete state, bone fragments or flesh, hair, etc…

Whatever it is, in terms of traces of dead people alone, there’s probably no place on the continent with more than here.

It must be a place considered more attractive than any catacomb to those who utilize records of corpses.

“It took quite some effort to infiltrate because surveillance was so stringent… But seeing that I’ve somehow reached here, it must mean heaven is helping me too.”

The old man who settled down here alone after ordering such believers to guard the way, doing something.

As if he had achieved his wish at the end of that, the old man standing on the mound was looking up at the dark ceiling, not sparing his admiration.

“Finally.”

An ecstatic voice. And a clear smile.

Though not visible, she’s certain.

If this guy is ‘that person’ she encountered in the old days.

“The time has come when I can finally achieve the wish I thought would end on that day…”

-Slash!!!

A flash shot out along with an angry hand gesture.

The tip of the sword drawn from its scabbard sent out mana, mercilessly tearing only his mouth.

Only the mouth of the old man rambling disgusting nonsense.

“Former Pope, Your Holiness Ergen Bilstein.”

The perpetrator who cut out that mouth said.

The name of the man who led the state religion of the empire in the age of madness.

And the man who lost his life, just like the tyrant, when the revolution occurred.

“As far as I know, I heard you breathed your last during the revolution, so how are you rambling with that disgusting mouth in this place?”

The former Pope of Lagrid, the state religion of the empire – Ergen Bilstein.

It was a name that the woman who would resolutely cut down even her own father, not clinging to the past, could never forget.

It was he who called the congenital illness she suffered a ‘curse’.

And he was the one who branded her mentor, who tried to cure such a curse, a criminal and sent him to the battlefield.

“Pahahahahahahaha!!!”

The ill-fated relationship that started from there was thought to have ended with the fall at the time of the revolution.

How could the person himself appear before her and burst out such a clear laugh?

“My, if it isn’t the young lady! Seeing you like this is truly delightful, have you been well all this time?”

He’s not simply an undead that can speak.

Those obsessed only with the past just repeat the same words, but what’s in front of her now is clearly an interlocutor capable of ‘conversation’.

The split mouth is blabbering as if it was never cut in the first place, in perfect condition.

“How strange, as far as I know, the last time I saw you was nearly 30 years ago… For you, who had a terminal illness, to have sustained your life until now, could it be you’re still relying on a witch’s dark magic?”

Seeing him even ask questions, he might as well be considered almost alive.

Celia, hiding her displeasure, took out the spray-type bottle in her bosom and answered.

“It’s not dark magic, it’s medicine. Is taking medicine regularly something to be so criticized for?”

“Medicine is the dark magic of witches. The damned dark magic created by the witch Asclepius, who burned to death hundreds of years ago… The poison used by assassins originates from books left behind by her that we failed to dispose of. Didn’t I teach you that fact repeatedly?”

“Condemning the whole for the fault of one, my husband says that’s like burning down a castle because you’re afraid of bedbugs.”

“I don’t know who your husband is, but he too seems to be steeped in impure knowledge. Surely you don’t know the fact that Duke Bertayu lost his life because of that impure learning…”

-Slash!!

The sword swung again.

But it doesn’t work again.

Though there’s a sensation of cutting, it recovers as if nothing happened.

That sensation was like cutting through a barrier made of mana, not flesh.

Like a lump of mana that just looks human, able to recover anytime as long as will remains.

“…My, you’ve become much more ill-tempered compared to the old days.”

“You’re still rambling the same shit as ever.”

Is it impossible to cut him down physically?

Then how about shattering him to the point where not even a form remains?

“No, you just don’t understand.”

Ergen said as she was pondering.

As if he didn’t care about the killing intent she was emitting, in the same kindly voice as back then, as if scolding a child.

“To begin with, people should follow fate… Forcibly prolonging symptoms that don’t improve with the power of miracles only negates one’s own existence. You should know well too that those who go against God’s will cannot reach heaven!?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”

“My, you still lack faith.”

“Does believing make something that wasn’t there suddenly appear?”

“Of course.”

-Flash!

A clear light arising from his hand.

Despite the darkness deep underground, that which manifests its existence clearly possesses the power to heal all kinds of diseases and demons.

“This world is set up so that rewards for faith always come back.”

A power considered more precious than any gold or silver to humanity that has suffered from famine and epidemics.

Those who haven’t awakened faith rely on that power, so those who wield it must have had confidence that they were never wrong.

The witch hunts that slaughtered innocent maidens including Asclepius hundreds of years ago.

Along with that, the sadism directed at her and her husband stemmed from the conviction that the faith that bestowed such power was not wrong.

With a heart that will never lead to the realization of guilt as long as it doesn’t lose its light.

‘It’s strange to think this now that I’m already dead, but… Even the inquisitors who tried to execute the virgin who bore a demon seem cute in comparison.’

At least what they did was dealing with internal dissidents.

They’ve been so friendly towards external forces that they even removed the word ‘heretic’ from ‘heretic inquisitor’.

Though they inherited the forces of someone steeped in such ideology, sympathy and compassion began to arise for those who finally awakened understanding towards foreign powers.

“But I forgive you. You too are a weak human, so you might not understand the will of the Great One and could enter the apostolate.”

They realized that the reason they waged civil war to reduce their forces was to cut out rotten lumps of flesh like this.

“So let’s repent together even now. Before the time of judgment soon to come, a time to look back on one’s conduct…”

“Once again.”

Perhaps the sect called Elder Fanatics was created by cutting out like that, and even absorbing the remnants of Lagrid that were cut out.

“I’ll ask once again.”

The moment a connection to Lagrid was created, not just worshipping the old emperor as a god.

The appearance of the former Pope himself can be said to have sufficient plausibility in itself.

What needs to be known is ‘how’ he appeared.

One of the reasons for setting foot in this academy was to find out and deal with that reason directly.

“How are you alive when you died at my husband’s hands back then?”

Why were traces of the ill-fated relationship that should have ended at her husband’s hands found in her father’s mausoleum.

And how can the person himself exist in the place reached by following those traces…