Ishura - Volume 4 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Remorse

It was around the time the True Demon Lord’s reign of terror had begun to spread across the world.

Kuze the Passing Disaster was not yet a cleaner, nor had he earned his name of the Passing Disaster, but instead he was a normal young man aiming to become a priest, wandering from one almshouse to another to learn the Order’s teachings.

In some frontier city, all communication to the outside world had been cut off overnight, and every person who left to investigate never returned. However, even with such little information, everyone at the time seemed to have a hunch that it wasn’t because of some sudden uprising or an outbreak of a new plague.

In the early days, people tried to ignore the very existence of the city. There was someone who said there had surely been some terrible disaster, and the rescue attempts were met with trouble. That Izick the Chromatic, who had already managed to lay waste to several cities, or the vampires that were still hidden among the minian races were far bigger problems—and that they must not let some unrelated city on the frontier concern them.

The younger Kuze believed this explanation. Nevertheless, he soon understood this wasn’t the case.

The more necessary it was to go around saying that one mustn’t let something concern them, the more it weighed on everyone’s minds.

As far as Kuze understood, both adult’s and children’s minds were seized by anxiety, and yet the fates of the city’s residents remained a mystery, with any investigative activity being placed on hold for over a year.

It was abnormal.

Before long, there came a rumor that a hamlet adjoining the city had apparently disappeared. Any investigation related to the True Demon King never yielded much. The one who barely managed to make it back didn’t say anything about the extent of the damages, or the safety of the residents. They only left a single statement behind—“There’s something terrifying there.” Then he died.

His death wasn’t from any physical abnormality. The extreme terror and exhaustion had killed him.

It wasn’t “There was something terrifying,” but that “There is.” The word was short, but that was what truly expressed the staggering terror of the True Demon King. In all likelihood, he had never even encountered the True Demon King at all. He encountered the Demon King Army in that ruined place—and learned from himself that something terrifying was still there… And because of this unfortunate realization, he perished.

The people feared this unseen terror.

Someone began referring to the overwhelming threat as the True Demon King.

They were more than a tyrannical monarch standing in opposition to the One True King. They were a malevolent entity unlike anything the world had seen before.

The head priest of the Order gave a proclamation to the people. Either the royal family or the head priest had to or else unabated disorder would continue to spread.

“Every life on this planet, joined in understanding with Word Arts…has persisted from time immemorial into the present day because they have overcome the threat of annihilation again and again.”

The Order faithfully undertook their duty, trying to expel the curse of fear that tormented the hearts of the people.

“There will be many sacrifices, just as there were during the plagues and the Viledragon Disaster. Be that as it may, just as with those calamities of the past—this terror will inevitably come to an end.”

Kuze believed this, too. He could entertain the hope that if they endured it for just a little bit longer, an unknown Hero would slay the True Demon King.

However, this proclamation itself may have been the worst possible crossroads for the Order to put forth.

The First Party, the hopes of many on their shoulder, was wiped out, and the Order’s charity work was unable to hold back the wave of ruin, with everyone around the world dying, dying, and continuing to die.

All the kingdoms were on a war footing, and the support for the Order, tasked with maintaining social welfare, continued to dwindle as the years went on.

The Order, their doctrines leaving them unable to supply any military aid, began to be coldly regarded by the people, and as all kinds of despair spread across the world, faith was the very first thing to disappear.

If the Wordmaker supposedly created this world, then why did this Wordmaker allow something like the True Demon King to exist?

The head priest who made the first proclamation died just a year later.

He was stabbed by a vagabond who had lost their family to the Demon King Army.

“If you’re intent on the priesthood, Kuze…”

The priest Kuze was learning from at the time, Rozelha the Ruminator, let these words slip.

“Don’t give it up until the very end, long after everyone else. No matter how much the True Demon King torments the people… You need to protect the correct teachings up until the very end. That’s the hardest job a priest is tasked with.”

“…Ha-ha. Is it now? I mean, you’re always giving up on temperance yourself, Father Rozelha.”

“No… Hee-hee, that’s different. It’s a completely different topic altogether, you understand, Kuze?”

“…Everyone comes seeking salvation from the Wordmaker. They feel that if even the First Party proved unable, they want someone who can do it, to go and kill the True Demon King. There were some trying to grant these wishes. I don’t really think those guys are wrong. But believers have begun abandoning their faith and trying to join the subjugation forces… What am I supposed to do for people like them?”

The True Demon King couldn’t be allowed to exist. Kuze himself wished he could become a savior to the people. Not just to protect the refugees who escaped from the Demon King and give the people peace of mind, but to eliminate the problem at the source.

If it was possible to comprehend the True Demon King through the use of Word Arts, the actions necessary to slay them would, for the Order’s believers, also mean discarding their faith.

“…‘Thou shall not hate.’ ‘Thou shall not harm.’ ‘Thou shall not kill’—these conditions make the task rather tricky.”

“Do you think that everyone who went off has…given up?”

“I’d say so. They weren’t able to stick to their priestly ways of saving others. That might be a cruel way to put it, though.”

Kuze knew that Rozelha’s faith in the Wordmaker was deeper than anyone else’s. Even if his behavior was unbecoming of a clergyman, Kuze had never seen him break any of their religious precepts.

“You see, Kuze, when I say keep going until the very end, longer than anyone else, I mean that I want you to outlast even me. If all the people of the world fight, and seek to kill each other; if there’s no one there to protect our teachings until the last man standing, who will pass them on to the world to follow? That’s what makes it the most difficult responsibility of all.”

Rozelha took a single gulp of the small remaining amount of booze in his bottle.

“There will be times when you’ll want to fight for justice. When it seems like there’s a better way to improve the world than through the Wordmaker’s teachings. When your faith beings to waver, the words of the Wordmaker will be your anchor. We need to be there for those in need, even the ones who’ve had their faith waver. Even if it doesn’t seem like the right thing to do.”

“…I wonder if I can become the sort of priest you’re talking about, Father Rozelha.”

Kuze didn’t think he had lived a life of misfortune. Though he had been an orphan abandoned at an almshouse, having never known his birthplace, he was surrounded by friends in the Order.

Then there was the angel—whom no one else could see—that always watched over him.

If there were going to be more and more children with circumstances like Kuze’s in the age of the True Demon King, then he wanted to practice what he’d learned from his teachings and save as many of those children as he could.

“I’m scared of the True Demon King, too.”

Kuze feebly smiled.

“Lately, I’ve been afraid that before long…I’ll go against our teachings, just like everyone else has.”

“Heh. That’s ’cause you’re kind, Kuze.”

“Father Rozelha. I don’t have the courage to kill—or the courage to die. Everyone who went to join the subjugation force were all much more impressive than I am. Do you think someday…everyone will come back to the Order, and we’ll be able to do things like we used to?”

“…’Course we can. We continue protecting the Wordmaker’s teachings for just such a day. Whatever happens to the world out there, the good things, the things that save the soul, won’t change at all.”

Priests act as embodiments of this everlasting truth—this must have been what Rozelha wanted to say. In the Order, those who voluntarily broke the precepts of their teachers would be unable to become priests.

“Kuze. I know plenty well enough that the ones who have separated from the Order are experiencing the worst hardships of all. Because they have to believe for themselves in the justness they were willing to abandon the Wordmaker’s teachings for—the decision to harm and kill someone. They might have to live right up to the end holding firm to this sense of justice. That is a truly agonizing thing. That’s why we will wait.”

“……”

Even then, if they were all to return to their faith, the Wordmaker’s teachings made it clear.

If they returned to the Order, their sins would be forgiven.

“Lately, I’ve been dreaming that I’m…I’m in Cunodey’s almshouse like I was way back when…truly just like I was, doing stupid stuff with Nofelt, teasing Ina… Imos was still alive, too.”

To Kuze, faith in the Wordmaker was no different from the memories of such happy days.

A majority of the friends Kuze had lived with had also broken off from the Order. There were some who would never come back.

“I… I want to be waiting here for everyone.”

“…I know. That’s what faith feels like. I’m sure it will be okay. Kuze…”

Putting down his glasses, Rozelha smiled.

“You’ll be able to find happiness.”

Kuze, just an orphan on the path to priesthood, had never met someone’s true intent to kill until the spiraling slaughter born from the True Demon King spread out over the world.

Therefore, at the time, he had no way of knowing about Nastique’s unusual ability to automatically bring instant death to all who confronted him.

A long time passed.

Kuze was looking at a church pelted in a downpour of rain.

Close to twenty years had passed since he had his conversation with Rozelha, and the terror of the True Demon King still continued to exist in the world.

“…How did things end up like this?”

Drenched by the rain, Kuze gave an exhausted smile. A self-deprecating smirk.

There were six dead bodies lying around him. All of them were armed.

“I’ve become a murderer myself, Father Rozelha.”

Kuze the Passing Disaster wore a robe that closely resembled a priest’s, but it was black. He wasn’t a real priest. He was no longer young, and he had lost the ambitious glimmer in his eye. There was also a stubbly beard on his chin.

For a long time, the rank of paladin within the Order had been discontinued.

In the era of the True Demon King, where no one could rely on any other power and needed to protect themselves with violence, there was a class of warrior assigned once again to a single individual. The cleaner for the Order.

The armed group that attacked the church that day even included an ogre over twice as tall as Kuze in their ranks. This ogre, too, had collapsed and was leaning up against the wall. It had attacked this church and eaten many of the children here, and yet the look on his dead face was peaceful, as if he were asleep.

There were some who attacked the Order to pillage them, but Kuze knew that a majority weren’t like that.

They were filled with hatred toward the Order, and their teachings, that did nothing to help them.

Kuze looked up to the top of the roof.

There was a being that had been watching over Kuze ever since he was a child.

“Hey there, Nastique. That’s where you’re sitting today, huh?”

On top of the roof, doused in cold rain, her palely glowing form was the one thing that would never get wet.

Pure-white hair. Pure-white clothes. Pure-white wings.

Her soft, short hair and delicate frame made her look like a young boy, but her appearance was elegant and graceful.

When Kuze noticed Nastique’s presence, she replied with a faint smile.

The corners of her mouth relaxing meant a smile. The angel’s expressions were so indistinct that it took Kuze a long time until he understood even this much. She seemed like a whole different being from anything else.

“Are you okay?” Kuze was convinced this was her salutation to him.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. We were just saying hi to each other, really,” Kuze said, trying to show that he was tough.

He knocked on the church door. If Nastique wasn’t watching, he might’ve still wavered.

“Pardon me, the rain’s really coming down out here…”

The priest and children inside were safe, and they’d holler back their reply. That was the fantasy he played in his mind.

“Could you lend me your roof for a little while?”

Silence at first. Then there came a reply. The sound of a crossbow pulling back.

Kuze readied his large shield. Twisting the handle as he gripped it tight, he braced for impact.

The storm of arrows that pierced through the doorway rushed toward the steel shield. Kuze lowered his body. He withstood. If he grew scared, he’d be repelled, and his fears would become reality. The shield he raised became riddled with arrows.

“Sheesh… Not very kind of you.”

The class of paladin was meant for combat, but they could not equip themselves with swords or bows. The only thing they carried with them was a large shield to defend against their enemy’s violence.

Stepping inside the church, Kuze tried to continue his thought.

“If you’re in there, then you gotta say so; come on, now…”

Kuze saw a lump of flesh dangling from the ceiling and closed his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to see it.

The person who he had wished was waiting for him inside was no longer there.

“…Ah, Father Rozelha… Bweh-heh-heh, so that’s how it is… You didn’t make it, either, huh…?”

The gang that had taken hold of the church aimed their arrows at Kuze.

In the rear of the church, someone was sitting on a bench with their back to Kuze. Turning their sights to the entrance, their face and eyes met Kuze’s. The face, hideously burned, was covered in worn bandages.

“…A glimpse of my face—”

The voice sounded much, much younger than Kuze had imagined. It was practically the voice of a young prepubescent boy.

“—doesn’t frighten you, does it?”

“…Bweh-heh-heh. So I take it you’re the one in charge here?”

Kuze didn’t even plead for his life, simply offering a weak laugh. His attitude was abnormal for someone currently surrounded by death on all sides. He felt the same way himself.

Be sure to talk things out. People were bestowed Word Arts by the Wordmaker in order to communicate with one another.

“Well, I heard that the church here’s been making a bit of noise lately. See, I got the message from the Order, and, well… I thought I’d try to settle things peacefully. I’m Kuze the Passing Disaster, and—”

Crunch.

There was the sound of metal splintering. The tip of the chain, brandished by the man on the bench, chipped Kuze’s shield.

“……”

The attack was instantaneous. His foe still had his back turned to Kuze, and he was still seated.

Even when sitting, his attack reached far back behind him near the entrance of the church. If Kuze had been even a second slower with his shield, he would’ve been severed clean in half, bones and all.

“Go ahead; continue. My name is Hyne the Swaying Indigolite. A long, long time ago……I was the first formation rearguard of Obsidian Eyes.”

Suddenly, a slash attack was launched at his blind spot on the right. Kuze narrowly deflected it with his gauntlet.

The long and limber chain was being sped up with just his fingertips. Hyne the Swaying Indigolite’s weapon took an unexpected trajectory, as if it were a writhing live snake, and transformed into high-speed slashing attack.

His subordinates also nocked their arrows in quick succession and began peppering the intruder with arrows.

A brutal onslaught from every direction, which the defense of his large shield alone was utterly unable to handle.

“Okay, okay, I lost, I give up…”

He deflected an arrow with the round of his shield. Right before the chain tried to snap up into the air, he stamped down on it.

“Just calm down! Uh-oh, whoa!” Jumping under a bench, he dodged the hail of arrows. This was a familiar church. He had played tag with the children here, before then being scolded by the aging priest.

He had found a slim means of escape. He kept finding them.

If he didn’t desperately cling to that scant opportunity, he’d lose sight of it forever.

Kuze had long since gotten used to fights like this.

Raising his large shield up like a roof over his head, he blocked the deluge of arrows. Ultimately, he was unable to defeat anybody.

On that day, he hadn’t been able to go off and defeat the True Demon King, either.

Thanks to a wonderful miracle, we no longer live in solitude. All creatures with a heart and soul are our family.

“…Back. Keep your distance.” Hyne mumbled quietly. Was he really being cautious of Kuze’s nonresistance?

“You might try to punch with that shield of yours. Or maybe you’re preparing to use some Word Arts?”

…See, I can’t do anything like that.

The tempestuous assault continued. Hyne continued to precisely assail Kuze from all sides with his chain, as though it was filling in any gaps between the arrows besieging him.

Please, no more killing.

Hyne the Swaying Indigolite. Just how dedicated he must have been to train and develop his skills to this level.

Even that dedicated training hadn’t been enough to erase his hatred for the Order.

Blood. Severed arms, legs, eyeballs, innards—no matter what he did, the left-behind traces of the tragedy that occurred in this church reflected in Kuze’s eyes as he continued to live on and survive.

I’m begging you. Don’t try to kill me.

In the thick of a world where anyone and everyone kept meeting their ends, Kuze raged against the inevitable.

The bench concealing Kuze was severed in two, iron frame and all. Hyne’s chain was picking up speed. Kuze readied his shield again, fortifying against the arc of the chain’s slash.

……Shoot.

One of the gang members who had drawn in near his blind spot was readying an arrow.

The destruction of his cover had thrown off his calculations. He couldn’t block it with the armor on his arms or legs, either. That was the moment facing him.

Kuze prepared for death—

The attacker’s legs twisted, and they collapsed.

……

Their boss, Hyne, picked up on the obviously strange event, too.

“…What did you do just now?”

Kuze didn’t answer. He had prepared for death—and nothing more.

—The death of his enemy.

Kuze was the only one capable of perceiving it.

Nastique’s figure as she teleported behind the back of the one directing their killing intentions Kuze’s way—and stabbed them with her short sword.

They were beings who had been scattered at the time of creation, when the Wordmaker gathered a great number of visitors together and this world began. They were tasked with establishing the laws that govern the world.

When the time of creation ended, so too did their responsibilities. As time marched on, the angels disappeared…and perhaps the people stopped trying to see them, turning them into mere figures of legend, even within the Order.

Death was her domain.

Kuze referred to the sinister red blade, ill-matched with her elegant, white body, as Death’s Fang.

Thou shall not hate. Thou shall not harm. Thou shall not kill. Treat others as thou would treat thy own family.

Taking advantage of the gang’s attention being drawn to the inscrutable and sudden death, Kuze fled to the wall.

A fresh member of the mob readied their short spear and charged toward Kuze. The impact sank through the shield. Matching the movements of the spearhead’s thrust, he pulled back his shield. Pulling his assailant down to the ground after his stance faltered, he pinned him down.

“…Phew…”

Still pinning the attacker down against the wall, he covered the other side of him with his shield, forcibly making a safe zone. At long last, he could take a deep breath.

Nastique floated right next to Kuze and fixed her eyes up at the lump of flesh dangling from the ceiling. “Who is this person?”

“…See, Father Nozelha has taken really good care of me for a long, long time.”

Nastique was not a heartless angel.

Kuze believed that she must have a heart that mourned for people, lamented, and tried to do good.

This was why he continued to talk to her. Even if he never got a reply.

“He was super good at making potato soup, let me tell you. All the kids in the almshouse, and I mean all of them, loved it… Though, for a priest he was pretty loose, and he’d have his mistresses and stuff, but he was a kind man. Always caring deeply for all of us…”

“Curse you, lemme go……! Like I give a damn about whoever the hell you’re talking about!”

The rogue Kuze kept pinned down yelled out. He must have believed Kuze was talking to him.

“You know, I tell you…… Oh, really? You don’t know him? You didn’t hate him or anything, and you killed him anyway?”

He always prayed that no one would get killed. And yet things never went that way.

Each time a person killed another, Kuze’s faith faltered, and he’d drift further away from some potential happiness.

“He’s the guy you have hanging up there. He…he was my teacher.”

The short spear–wielding rogue must have tried to attack Kuze without waiting for the answer. Either with some concealed weapon he could use while held down against the ground or maybe some type of Word Arts.

However, he never put his plan into motion. The angel silently cut up the rogue’s side with her short sword.

Without exception, a single attack from Death’s Fang would prove lethal. No matter how tiny of a scratch it may have left.

The gusting carnage of chain and arrow also meant nothing to Nastique, as she didn’t possess a corporeal form in their world. Without anyone being aware of her, Nastique and Nastique alone, protecting Kuze, was always claiming the lives of others without any of them being able to fight back at all.

“Are you okay?” She must have been concerned for him.

Turning to Nastique, Kuze laughed. A fatigued laugh.

“…Bweh-heh-heh. Well, now he’s dead.”

He understood. It was almost certain that none of them would put down their weapons.

They must have had a reason driving them to go to such lengths. And yet Kuze could only flounder in meaninglessness, desperately trying not to kill anyone and trying not to be killed himself. He didn’t even want to keep making his angel add to her sins.

He shouted. “Oh yeah, so I forgot to mention something! I came out here to kill all of you guys!”

After he acknowledged it once, the only thing left was to carry it out to the end.

“Sorry, but…I’m gonna need you to die. All of you.”

“You think after the Order couldn’t save anybody…they have the right to kill us now, huh?!”

“I guess I don’t. Maybe, if we had just talked things over a bit more, we could’ve worked things out… Truly. But the thing is…”

He planted his humongous shield at a spot on the floor with a large image of an angel spreading her wings.

Behind Kuze the Passing Disaster’s back, the angel of death, invisible to everyone else, was unfurling her pure-white wings.

“Apparently the angel…isn’t going to forgive you for what you’ve done.”

Kuze began walking toward Hyne, sitting on a bench in the back of the church.

A rogue with a long sword slashed at him from his flank. Nastique’s short sword brushed against the man’s neck. With just this, the attacker lost his strength and collapsed.

“What’s with this guy…?!”

Hyne twisted his bandage-wrapped face and shouted. One who had tried circling around him. One who had charged with a short spear. And just now, one wielding a long sword. All of them died.

From their perspective, none of them was hit by any attack at all, and Kuze was just defending himself…and yet they were the only ones losing their lives. That was how it all looked.

“Everyone, stand back. I’ll get him! Haine io quqiciku! Hamn nagre, meg 9fran, orped borg, 5,1,8,6! Zaido lebehe!” (From Haine to Kuqueciku’s cord! Running ecliptic, right elbow axis, touch skylight, five, one, eight, six! Shred him!)

The thick chain glowed red-hot and rent the church from the floor to the ceiling with a six-meter-long arc.

A combination of Thermal Arts, Power Arts, and iron chain techniques using both fingers. It was a crystallization of all the combat prowess that Hyne the Swaying Indigolite had trained in, as a warrior for Obsidian Eyes, nevertheless—

“……!”

Hyne’s technique cleaved the bench, the altar, and his remaining subordinates, while also incidentally twisting and breaking the fingers serving as the basis of his technique.

“It can’t be.”

These fingers of his were now lying at his feet. While only a red cross section on his wrist remained behind.

The instant he unleashed his ultimate technique, his hands were cut off at the wrists, and he lost control.

“Impossible. There’s no way.”

“There sure is. These things happen.”

Hyne vacantly gazed at the nub where his hand had been severed by some unseen force.

“Wh-why…is it always like this? Irrational absurdity, over and over.”

He groaned.

Death would come. Taking a hit from Nastique guaranteed such a fate.

He was supposed to be a violent ruffian who massacred Kuze’s former teacher and all the orphan children in the man’s care, and yet he wore the expression of a sobbing child. The terrible burns beneath the bandages told Kuze the kind of life the man had led up until now.

“It’s always like this.”

“……You’re going to die, Hyne the Swaying Indigolite. Your time has come. Just as it comes for everyone else.”

“B-but…who gets to decide that? Why do these things happen…? Tell me. Did the Wordmaker decide it was my time to die…?”

Kuze slowly walked until he came to a halt in front of Hyne.

“…It’s the same way for everyone, right? The Wordmaker isn’t responsible for anything and everything.”

“No. No, you’re wrong…!”

Underneath the bandages, Hyne twisted in hatred.

“It’s, the Wordmaker, and you Order people’s fault. All of it… You praise the Wordmaker for the creation, for being omnipotent, and despite all that, the Wordmaker doesn’t bear any responsibility for their own world?!”

The terror of the True Demon King would inevitably come to an end. Kuze believed those words, too.

Everything went just as the murdered head priest once said. Nevertheless, it all came too late.

The True Demon King continued to terrorize the world, and before long, a whole twenty-five years had passed. What had the Order actually saved from that reign of tyranny?

“…Yeah. Everyone suffered, more than was ever necessary. How about we chat about the salvation of this world…the Wordmaker’s salvation.”

Kuze sat down on the half-demolished bench.

The church had transformed into a crucible of atrocity, drowned in a sea of blood.

However, when Kuze first saw him, Hyne was sitting on this very bench, looking toward the altar.

Kuze knew—the ones who hungrily sought the Wordmaker’s salvation…were the ones who fell the deepest into despair.

“I’m still a clergyman when all is said and done. I’ll listen here until you die. Confession time. Gathering confessions is all that’ll save people.”

“Then, why—why didn’t the Wordmaker save us? Was I…were we all…abandoned?”

“…Well, you’re wrong there. Think about all the things or people who’ve saved your life up until now. Might’ve been some random chance, heck, maybe been a stroke of good luck. But see… The salvation that the Wordmaker bestows on people? Me, I don’t think that it really manifests in some amorphous good fortune or anything like that.”

Lifeblood poured incessantly from the severed remains of Hyne’s arms.

There wasn’t anything Kuze could do as he gazed down at the sight.

“…No one’s been abandoned. If your cruel treatment came at another person’s hands, then you must have been equally saved by another person’s goodwill. A conscience to save others. The Wordmaker was there in each and every moment. See, if they’re the god that created this world? Then they can’t favor only one race, right? That’s why they created a world where people would save other people. That’s the salvation…that the almighty Wordmaker bestowed on us.”

“I-in that case… In that case, why…did the people who saved me, why did all of them die?”

“Because they’re people. If it’s not the sort of tragedy a person’s strength can help save…then people can’t save at all.”

“No… No, that’s wrong… They should have the power, more power that could save everyone…! Curse them all… The Wordmaker…the Demon King…”

Kuze knew what drove them into despair.

It was because they wanted to believe there was some hope amid a hopelessness beyond the reach of any person’s helping hand.

The hope that someone, an unknown righteous somebody would save everything and correct the world to how it should be.

“…Da…mmit all…not scared…this face………”

The scars left behind by the True Demon King continued to torment all who lived in these times.

“…Yeah. It’s over.”

Watching Hyne’s death, Kuze addressed the empty air. Floating there was an invisible angel.

The young, white girl smiled faintly.

“Thank goodness.”

Without a doubt, she was genuinely concerned for Kuze’s life. Kuze understood that.

“Thank goodness you were able to survive, huh?”