Ishura - Volume 4 - Chapter 16

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Chapter 16: Then the Twilight Bell Rings

That night, after the end of the fifth match and Kuze the Passing Disaster’s win by default. The elderly Eleventh Minister, Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell, returned home to his residence, another man in tow.

The guest gazed out over the state of his home and spat out a single comment.

“What a dump.”

The young man, cigarette in his mouth, left a crude and vulgar impression. The light fading from it, the cigarette itself almost gone entirely, yet he still kept it fast in his mouth.

“Haah. Is that so? If you compared it to the prosperity of everyone in Sun’s Conifer… Well then, I suppose it may look a bit humble.”

The young man’s name was Giza the Wingsword. He was the second-in-command of the guild, Sun’s Conifer.

Sun’s Conifer—children who had engaged in the harsh labor of mining radzio ore on the frontier—started their own enterprise and climbed up from nothing amid an age of upheaval, unscrupulous about their means. However, their leader, Jivlart the Ash Border, had suffered a shameful death right before his match against Aureatia’s strongest champion, Rosclay, and the guild’s path to rising further up in the world was severed.

Killed in a woman’s house, there were those spreading slanderous rumors regarding Jivlart’s abilities and conduct, and there were repeated incidents of their members hearing said rumors, and getting violent with the city’s citizens.

Lacking a leader to set their course of action, Sun’s Conifer was now losing their place within Aureatia. From the very beginning, they were uneducated young men who were unable to grow accustomed to the peaceful metropolis.

“However… Well, I think it’s a perfectly adequate apartment to have a chat. At the very least, we won’t have anyone listening in to what we say. There aren’t any inhabitants on either side of me, you see. Ha-ha…”

“Spare me the stupid preamble. What happened to the person who killed Jivlart?”

“…Yes, yes. Let me begin things by saying Master Jivlart was killed by Elea the Red Tag, having rebelled against the Aureatia Assembly, and let’s see… For example, whether it came from being seduced by her charms or that he was embarrassingly killed by a woman’s slender arms—”

Giza’s hands moved faster than his mouth.

He grabbed Nophtok by the collar, before then driving his fist into Nophtok’s face. Blood spilled from the elder’s nose.

“Gah, bwaugh.”

“Go ahead, asshole, Hey. Say that again, why don’t ya.”

“I-it’s not my… There are citizens repeating these sorts of rumors. H-haah… Phew. Pardon me. I—I need time…to get my breathing in order… What I’m saying is that…they’re wrong. It wasn’t a woman who killed Jivlart.”

“……”

“You and your group believe as much, yes…? Hence why you’re angry at the citizens’ rumors. You have to find out the true culprit, the truth of the incident… I understand.”

“Who is it? Tell me that first. Which asshole’s the culprit? I-I’m going to kill them… I’ll use Sun’s Conifer’s combined strength to turn ’em into mincemeat. Even if we pound them down straight to hell, it still won’t be enough.”

“…I require a bit of courage to disclose this fact…as it concerns my own reputation as well.”

It was all a made-up story. He was relating a complete fabrication, the sort that Sun’s Conifer would hope was indeed the truth.

Contrary to what he said, Nophtok held no value in his name or reputation.

Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell’s official post was charged with controlling the Order. It was a position where he was simply denounced by the Order leadership for his supervisory responsibilities and criticized for the neglect.

Nophtok harbored, in some senses, a monstrous mental spirit that eclipsed all others, having worked unselfishly, going with the flow, and following the wills of others, and as a result, he arrived at the position most bereft of prestige, the seat of the Eleventh Minister.

Taking up residence in a housing complex in the slums while also being one of Aureatia’s most authoritative individuals, the drab interior possessed neither furniture to indicate his tastes nor any articles that expressed his experiences in life.

It was a room where he simply ate, slept, and woke up. A life of this, day in and day out.

His disinterest was abnormal, completely different in nature from Yuca the Halation Gaol’s own lack of unselfishness.

“I believe the Order I’ve been charged with…is involved somehow in Master Jivlart’s death.”

“…No way.”

Giza answered incredulously, his face bright red.

“The Order… Those Order guys… Jivlart took really good care of ’em all… Said he loved the kids… That since the kids aren’t prejudiced, they don’t look at us like we’re bad guys.”

“Ah yes. I am aware.”

It was because everyone looked at Jivlart so coldly that he had wanted children at least to think of him well.

A lowly, infantile thought.

Through an investigation, Nophtok already knew that even in Aureatia, their guild had continued their criminal activities. Unable to reform his fundamental evil nature, he instead tried to earn the approval of innocent children.

It was exploiting approval from the weak.

Nophtok felt that men like those in Sun’s Conifer were the ones who truly needed to face punishment.

“There was a priest in training at the almshouse Jivlart supported by the name of Naijy the Rhombus Knot. Were you aware of the fact that he died by suicide?”

“…He died right after Jivlart went. Like hell I’d forget. We… Right when we were talkin’ about pooling money together and keeping that place going.”

“I see. Did you consult with Naijy on the matter?”

“Of course we didn’t. We wanted to get everything squared away and then go cheer ’im up.”

“I see… In any event, one of the reasons for his suicide was an incident, see… Where he found one of the destinations he tried to send an orphan, in fact, turned out to be a slave trader.”

“…What?”

“Indeed. An internal investigation proved that there is someone within the order who was tightly connected with such an organization. Master Jivlart must have realized that the almshouse he was donating to had this strange business going on. As a result, well…”

“Wait, wait, hold on.”

Giza once again went to pull Nophtok in by his collar but realized what he was doing himself and stopped.

“Even if that was true… I can’t believe Jivlart’d get knocked off by any regular bastard. The Order folks don’t train for combat or anything. Who then. Who got ’im?”

“You appear to have realized the answer yourself, Master Giza.”

Nophtok spread pictures out across the table. Pictures of assassins’ corpses, the ones he had dispatched against Kuze.

“Dammit…”

Nophtok’s job was always dirty work.

Thus now, with the winner of the fifth match decided, was when he truly needed to make a move. In order to dispose of his candidate.

“The order’s paladin, Kuze the Passing Disaster. He is an assassin secretly working behind the scenes of the Sixways Exhibition. Conspiring together with Elea the Red Tag, he assassinated Master Jivlart.”

Kuze had won. Not a simple victory, either, but a win by default.

There was a high likelihood that he and Tu the Magic, and thus her sponsor, Flinsuda, had made some sort of deal right before the match. The Order, as an organization, was on its last legs, but if they turned Flinsuda the Portent and her immense wealth into an ally, the power relationships in the Sixways Exhibition would shift dramatically.

It was possibly the Gray-Haired Child, instead. There was a chance he colluded with Aureatia’s largest dissidents and used some scheme to dispose of Tu the Magic.

It would have been better if Kuze had simply won. A victory for Kuze means the death of his opponent… It means I wouldn’t have to worry about there being any surviving pieces left in play.

However, given that he had taken moves to reject the match itself, he needed to fear the possibility that now Kuze the Passing Disaster and Tu the Magic were both rising in revolt against Aureatia, together. Once the strongest spear and the strongest shield had combined forces, there were very few players who could possibly topple their absoluteness, even among the other hero candidates.

At this point, I can still dispose of Kuze. Right now, while his vulnerability still remains in Aureatia… I can’t let this opportunity slip by.

Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell mildly accepted being treated as an incompetent older man, never letting his artless and modest expression and tone falter.

However, he was a member of the Twenty-Nine Officials exactly because of his excellence and capability. On behalf of Rosclay, still critically wounded from the fourth match and unable to issue orders, he could move quickly to fulfill his own role.

“Kuze the Passing Disaster… Kuze, huh.”

Giza the Wingsword’s face twisted in anger, and he lit the cigarette in his mouth.

Nophtok heaved a fatigued sigh.

“I… I cannot stand that the Order has produced such a man. I needed to get your guild’s cooperation in order to finally put him down for good.”

“…Bring him on. Damn the bastard. I’ll drop him down into the pits of hell.”

The sole weakness of Kuze the Passing Disaster was clear. Even a powerless elderly man like Nophtok could dispose of him.

In order to enact his plan, he needed a myopic and ethically bankrupt group to work with.

“We’ll take his tools of the trade, the children, hostage.”

A short walk away from the almshouse Kuze grew up in, there was a small pond.

A murky pond, dirtied by algae and mysterious plant life.

On the opposite shore, the old vestiges of a divine idol were buried in the roots, and while the children never paid it any mind, thinking about it now, it had been a spooky place.

The pond’s waters barely came up to the children’s knees, but since there was a cleaner and fish-filled river near the almshouse, none of the children played there. The only one who visited was Kuze.

Slipping out of the church complex late at night all alone, he’d often get yelled at by the priests.

To them, young Kuze must have been an awful handful of a child.

He was always alone as he traveled the somber path, stepping over the grass wet with night dew and hearing the chirping of insects resounding around him.

However, once night fell, there was someone there singing.

A tiny, faint, boyish voice.

It was a song no one knew.

Because the Word Arts weren’t of this world.

He asked his friends, he asked the teachers, but there wasn’t anyone who knew about the singer. It was a very quiet song, so Kuze thought that no one else could hear it except for him.

The nighttime memories remained because Kuze picked that time to go see her.

He thought it was a sacred spectacle, one that no one else should be there to witness.

Moonlight. The warble of the trees, waving in the wind.

A soft song, only audible in that moment when the world fell silent.

A beautiful terror and mystery, as if catching a glimpse of a far-off place beyond the reach of Word Arts.

It was an angel.

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

She had no weight. She was able to dance on top of a single flower petal.

A being who, during the time of creation, had been here with the original visitors to their world.

As though she had been left behind in the cogwheels of the world, her eyes couldn’t see anything, and her ears couldn’t hear. She was an afterimage of the creation, any meaning behind wielding the power she was given now gone, simply existing there until the day she should disappear.

Why was only Kuze able to see her?

Why did she choose Kuze?

Why did she bring death?

The rain was pouring down in the Aureatia night.

Gas lamps were sparse in this town in the Western Outer Ward, and it didn’t have the same activity seen in central Aureatia.

However, Kuze the Passing Disaster could hear the festival-like hustle and bustle echoing from afar.

“Light. Dammit, there’s light. It’s all up in flames! Zigita Zogi!”

He shouted to the man on the other side of the radzio. The first person he reported the situation to was Zigita Zogi the Thousandth, in a collaborative relationship with Kuze.

However, Kuze had once again been too late. He was sure of it.

“Still… Still, right now there are kids sleeping inside there! The guy who watched over the place, Naijy’s gone, too, so there’s no one protect them at night!”

That night, Sun’s Conifer had mobilized in great numbers and occupied the almshouse.

Kuze had immediately learned about the trouble thanks to contact from Zigita Zogi, and rushed over immediately, but of course Ozonezma, still heavily wounded from the third match, nor Hiroto and Zigita Zogi, under surveillance by the Twenty-Nine Officials, could act directly in response to the situation.

<…Master Kuze. Should it be necessary, I can mobilize our goblin force and eliminate Sun’s Conifer without issue. However, our opponent has this large number at their command. I believe it’s reasonable to think the news of a goblin unit closing in on them would instead fan the group’s already excited emotional state. As for the excuse to give Aureatia’s side of things, claiming we were independently cooperating with the city to maintain public safety…would be somewhat difficult. While suppressing the group itself may be possible, we might not be able to ensure the safety of the hostages.>

“…Zigita Zogi. You know, I… Bweh-heh-heh. I killed Nofelt. That’s how far I went…to try to win the Sixways Exhibition. I wanted to help the Order. Truly.”

“No. You got it wrong. I’m not trying to fault you or anything.”

Kuze smiled hollowly. It was self-deprecation about the irony currently attacking him.

“If it was Nofelt… I’m sure he would’ve mobilized the army for them immediately. See, he grew powerful and influential to help save the Order. If that’s the case, then…just what did I do?”

<…In any event, Nofelt would not have returned to Aureatia until the eighth match, correct? Aureatia’s handling of Order-related matters would have remained the same as it is now.>

“I… I had been his friend, too. He was even the one who taught me how to count. That guy even had that amazing talent of his. And yet…”

Kuze had several other Order comrades. Kind ones. Wise ones. Strong ones.

All of them were ground down together by the age of the True Demon King and would never return.

Kuze, alone, was now a shura.

“…Bweh-heh-heh. For what, then?”

“…Forget it.”

Everyone living in this world had their own ideas and their own language.

They wanted there to be a wicked somebody who could bear the blame for their own suffering. It was a childish hope.

Perhaps it was because of such hopes that the True Demon King was born in the first place.

“I’ll go.”

Kuze had given up. Just like that day Cunodey had died. Like the day Rozelha had died.

<…Please don’t give up, Master Kuze. If you fight, then—>

“Hey. Zigita Zogi. Don’t you think maybe…maybe even I should be able to talk things out? Without any killing or being killed… Some kinda…”

If Kuze the Passing Disaster fought, there was guaranteed to be death.

That was why he carried a great shield. So that he wouldn’t kill his enemies.

“…some sort of magical outcome like that.”

A bell could be heard from the church. A bell announcing the end of the day.

The black-clad assassin flew into the middle of the light.

Even if there was nothing but darkness in the future beyond it.

Seeing Kuze the Passing Disaster appear, Giza the Wingsword puffed his short cigarette.

“Well, now. Looks like you were in a real panic to get here, Mr. Assassin.”

Giza was sitting down on the stairs in front of the chapel. Along with him, several members of Sun’s Conifer were standing side by side nearby. He needed to get past these stairs and head inside to reach the almshouse. Passing right through the innumerable mob of Sun’s Conifer members crowding around.

A gang clamoring under the bright lights and behind the chiming of the church bells. It almost looked like a festival.

“…Sorry. This old man’d really like to surrender right away.”

Kuze raised both his hands while giving a flippant smile.

“Piss off.”

His attitude seemed to have rubbed Giza the wrong way.

“Go on and die, right here, right now. You’re the one who killed Jivlart, dammit. Can’t complain if Sun’s Conifer…if all of us gathered here kill you, yeah? Am I wrong? Making some mistake? After all the people you’ve killed up until now, why the hell are you the only one who gets to keep on living with that stupid grin on your face? Did you…did you really wanna win the Sixways Exhibition so bad that you used the dirtiest, sleaziest tricks to do it? Spit it out.”

“Bweh-heh-heh… Well, let’s see…”

He wasn’t the one who killed Jivlart. Maybe he just should’ve said they had the wrong guy.

Tell them that he didn’t care what happened to him, but he just wanted the children to be safe.

“I don’t care what happens to me,” huh?

It was terribly ironic. He truly felt that way deep in his heart, yet those were the only words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

As long as he had Nastique’s divine protection from death at his side, Kuze defenselessly exposing himself to the groups’ murderous anger was essentially a decision to massacre all his enemies.

The intention to betray his faith and kill his enemies was all he needed for Nastique to slaughter everyone in his sights. However, Curte, who he had killed in Lithia, his former friend Nofelt, and Tu, who he had come very close to killing as well… Even after he descended into hell, Kuze didn’t think he’d be able to forget about them.

“Bweh-heh-heh… Sorry. While I’m surrendering here, I’d like to talk a bit about Jivlart.”

“Jivlart was…”

The church’s bell was ringing.

Giza’s voice trembled with anger as he spoke.

“…among all of us, the only one able to think about the road ahead. Said we’d do really amazing stuff once Aureatia recognized us… Told us that Sun’s Conifer, that we’d become a guild beloved by anyone… He just needed to win in the Sixways Exhibition, and it was all gonna be smooth sailing from there, dammit! We’d be able to break off from all the crappy jobs we’ve been doing until now…with all of us living in houses, and with even bigger jobs, we were gonna get women, money, and hell, even families of our own, ya hear me?! That guy, that guy was the only one… The only one among all the rest of us worthless scum who could dream.”

“…You don’t say.”

Jivlart the Ash Border’s actual abilities were the most inferior among the hero candidates, and as such, he had been picked as Rosclay the Absolute’s opponent in the first round match. He had heard the details from Zigita Zogi. That whether it came to prudence or character, he was no better than a frontier ruffian.

There was no way that was true.

“So he really was…a pretty important guy, huh?”

Jivlart the Ash Border should’ve made a far more outstanding hero than someone like Kuze.

Persecuted by everything in a dead-end world, he had been able to see a distinct hope.

He managed to give his dream to his comrades and guide them.

Both of these were impossible to Kuze. The salvation that he had discovered as he struggled in a sea of despair was nothing but even deeper darkness. In order to assassinate the Queen, to assassinate the hero, he was battling in the Sixways Exhibition.

“Don’t you dare talk like you ain’t got nothing to do with it, asshole.”

Responding to Giza’s anger, Sun’s Conifer encircled Kuze.

They were clearly trying to kill Kuze. Anyone who tried to would die. They would die, and then someone else would be taken with revenge. Death would infinitely chain together and never stop.

As if it was the way the very world itself operated, they would die.

“You’re the bastard who killed him, ain’t you?! Leeching off the Order! Joining up with sleazy slave traders! Assholes like you are the ones tossing clueless damn children into the gutter, ain’t you?! You… You’re just like the bastards back in my hometown! When you heard we caught your ‘goods,’ you were the only one from the Order who came flying out here in a hurry, weren’t you?! G-guys…guys like you being at the top’s why even the damn Order itself…why the Order’s ended up like this!”

“Hah.”

All the words Giza the Wingsword had spouted off were nothing more than misdirected suspicions, as far from the truth as they could possibly be.

The tragedy that had befallen the children was the result of the weakened Order being exploited by crime, and the reason the Order was weakened was because faith had been lost to the True Demon King, and they had been neglected in their state of decline.

Given that the story was consistent, despite being completely unfounded, someone must have planted it in his head. Kuze even knew what person would paint a picture like this, too.

“…Ha-ha-ha…”

However, Kuze laughed.

The all-too-ironic story made him unable to stop laughing.

Because it was also exactly as Giza said.

“Ha-ha-ha… Ha-ha-ha-ha, that’s right. You’re right…”

Kuze replied through his laughter.

“That’s it. This old man… See, well… He’s a wicked man. The Order…the upper echelons of the Order, they’ve been under the control of abject scum, see… Meanwhile, this old man’s a killer—and selling kids into slavery…! Why not? That’s rich. Ha-ha, ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

The church bell was ringing.

“Hey…”

Sun’s Conifer were more perplexed than anything, seeing Kuze burst into laughter before them.

The wave of murderous rage that seemed ready to kick off at any second, for a very brief moment, stopped. However, the anger quickly swelled even larger and surged toward Kuze…

I really can’t save them.

He was a paladin and a murderer. This sin of his was an immutable fact.

Tu the Magic wasn’t there. From here, Kuze would likely kill a terrifying number of people. As a mass murderer, he’d lose his qualifications to be a hero candidate. Even lose the victory Tu entrusted him with.

Kuze laughed. He laughed so much that tears came to his eyes.

…I can’t save anyone. Not as I am.

“I’m gonna hack you into mincemeat, you piece of shit.”

Unsheathing a sword in each hand, Giza the Wingsword stood next to Kuze as he was crouched over laughing.

The swords were hanging over his head, he realized. Now was surely when an angel would come…

An angel will fly in, and…

Rain.

The light of the small moon through the clouds shone off the blade raised above his head.

It was headed toward Kuze’s neck.

“Die.”

There was a metallic clang. Kuze’s gauntlet had reflexively blocked the blade.

For the first time, the defensive techniques Kuze had only even used to stop himself from killing his enemy had been used to defend himself.

“…Nastique.”

It was Kuze’s turn to look perplexed.

Instead of looking at Sun’s Conifer as they surrounded him, raring to kill, he searched for the angel no one else but he could see.

“Where are you?! Nastique!”

“Sit still and die, dammit!”

“Gwaugh?!”

His stomach was punched hard. The blow was filled with an intense intent to kill.

The angel of death should’ve killed him in return for such an attack.

“Wh-what the hell’s…going on here…? Bweh-heh-heh… Nastique…”

He was surrounded. Punched and kicked. As he took in the excruciating pain all over his body, and the even fiercer whirlwind of murderous rage, Kuze facetiously chuckled.

“…I… I killed Nofelt. He was a close friend.”

Perhaps things had been the same for him and Nofelt, too.

“…If I had made it in time… You wouldn’t have had to kill anyone at all… Despite all that…are you going to save me?”

His cheekbones broken and blood streaming from his eyes and nose, still Kuze’s eyes weren’t on the Sun’s Conifer mob. Lingering beyond them was a large, silent white figure.

“Uhak.”

In the Sixways Exhibition, there were two hero candidates from the Order.

Kuze the Passing Disaster knew that there was someone praying there every day. Right around when the bell would ring to tell the faithful of the day’s close, he would appear there without fail.

The bell was ringing.

The gray ogre had a name. Uhak the Silent.

Thing is, Nastique… She can’t get close to you.

“Quit yer laughing.”

“We’ll pull your guts out.”

“Yer gonna pay.”

“You’re dead, Kuze the Passing Disaster.”

Ahhh. They’re trying to kill me.

So much murderous rage was being pointed at him.

I guess so. Only natural this’d happen to me, really. Always has been.

A club brandished by one of the gang went to shatter Kuze’s ribs. He brought his gauntlet up against the strike and deflected the club from their hands.

A giant of a man sent kick after kick into Kuze’s back, and he was rammed headfirst into the rain-muddled ground. Another one of the gang tried to get on top of Kuze.

“Die! Go to hell, bastard!”

“Nghaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!”

With a stirring shout, he slammed his forehead into the top of his opponent’s head. One of them tried to stab him with a short sword. Picking up his great shield off the ground, he slammed it into the ruffian’s arm before the sword could find its mark.

He managed to do it all. He was able to fight.

“Uhak. Why—?”

Uhak simply stared at the scene. Even Sun’s Conifer was unable to get close to the quietly lingering ogre. It was as if there truly was a holy priest standing there.

Struggling to stop himself from being swallowed by the wave of the mob, Kuze shouted.

“Uhak…! Uhak! Why—why did you kill others?! See, I really…I really wanted to know why!”

He punched. A punch came right back at him.

Adults fighting like a scuffle among children.

“I thought inside you…maybe you have your own beliefs…that are different from the Wordmaker’s teachings…and let you kill other people. I…!” he shouted, drenched in blood.

Somewhere out in the world, there may have been a god who would forgive Kuze’s sins.

Perhaps Uhak knew the truth, a truth beyond a faith composed from Word Arts. Nevertheless.

“I…!”

Even if he was able to learn mute Uhak’s faith, Kuze would likely still pine for faith in the Wordmaker that was always out of his reach.

His heart, which felt such anguish towards the act of murder, was surely a form of salvation granted by the Wordmaker.

Knowing more than anyone it was sin, all he could do was fight and continue shouldering the burden.

“Die!”

“Evil bastard! We’ll burn you alive!”

“Go to hell, coward!”

He could exchange blows. For the first time, Kuze was managing to fight.

It may have been a sin the angel wouldn’t have forgiven him for, but for that sole moment, with Uhak the Silent lingering nearby—Nastique the Quiet Singer wasn’t watching over Kuze the Passing Disaster.

He punched. He flung people away.

Kicks. Headbutts.

Alternating in turns, again and again, over and over.

“Haaah, haaah…”

“Why…why does this bastard…keep getting the hell back up?”

“Quit slacking off… Get to it! Hurry up and wring his damn neck!”

“This is… Haah-haah, for Jivlart!”

“…Bw-bwuh-bweh-heh-heh…heh-heh…”

Kuze laughed. He didn’t even know what emotion was behind it, whether it was happy laughter, out of anger, or out of sadness. Before a group this size, he couldn’t believe there was any hope of winning.

There clearly was, however, salvation.

A hope for even a man like Kuze, long shut away in the darkness of despair.

That’s right. A guy like me. Even a sinner like me…

Might have been able to find his way to the children without killing anyone.

The almshouse children had been rounded up and gathered inside the biggest dining room.

Leisha stretched up straight, raised her chin, and stared hard at the ruffians surrounding them.

Their gait and speech were terribly vulgar, and they seemed like villains. It was almost impossible for her to believe that these were the acquaintances of the same Mr. Jivlart she had heard Father Naijy praise.

“So like. What’s gonna happen after we kidnap the brats?”

“What, you gonna look after ’em?”

“Oh, knock it off. Koff! I told ya: I don’t got a thing for no little brats!”

“O-okay, in th-that case, can I—I take em? Hya-hee, hee.”

Leisha was disgusted.

The boys older than her hadn’t been any help at all. Even after they spouted all that bravado when Father Naijy had died, about how they’d protect all the little ones until they found someone to take everyone in.

There were some boys taken down by two or three jabs to their head or shoulders, and others who started crying just from seeing it all happen. Even the boys who had continued to fight back were now limply lying around after having their hands and feet bound tight with rope.

Leisha was the oldest girl there, so this time, she needed to fight.

“Well, I’m not going to become the sort of adult you all are, that’s for sure.”

“What the hell’s this one talking about?”

The ruffians seemed to have difficulty picking up the meaning of Leisha’s words.

“Ha. Little runts just say weird stuff from time to time.”

“Can’t believe Jivlart supported these brats for so long. I couldn’t even stand one of ’em.”

“All right, little girl, then what do ya want to become, then?”

One of the men standing beside Leisha said this, out of either curiosity or derision. He looked older than the other ruffians, a man with thin hair and a smirk.

“I’m going to be Father Kuze’s wife. We’re going to live happily ever after.”

“Hee-hee-hee, hey, this one’s funny. Precocious little runt.”

“…Were all of you raised without being taught the Wordmaker’s teachings?”

Even if they got violent with her, Leisha wasn’t scared in the slightest. Though she was very scared of any wounds to her face, when she thought about then being forced to submit to them, she wouldn’t be any different from the boys. They had been childish no matter how much bigger they looked, and thus she didn’t fear them at all.

Besides, Leisha was a child raised by the Order.

She had learned through it all. What was right, what was wrong. These were things she knew she’d never disguise.

“I even feel bad for Mr. Jivlart. After all, he may have done all those nice things while he was alive, but here his own pals are doing something awful. You clomp around everywhere you walk, you throw spit wherever you want like it’s nothing, and even your laughs are filthy. Makes it clear what sort of upbringing you all’ve had.”

Leisha was definitely not going to grow up to be an adult like them.

Someday, she was sure to be able to live a happier life. Holding on to hope, she could keep striving toward it.

Since, no matter what painful difficulties she faced, her spirit would be supported by the teachings of the Wordmaker.

Even without any family, even people in the absolute depths of misfortune, even children and the elderly—the teaching had saved the hearts of many people since they were brought into this world.

“Upbringing, is it?”

“What’s with this girl? She the lone rich girl in here or what?”

“……”

The air among the ruffians changed. It wasn’t the violent fervor they had shown from the beginning, but a sort of…cold murderous urge, mixed with fear, in response to some part of what Leisha had said.

I’m not scared whatsoever. Not at all.

Telling herself “whatsoever” might have been a lie. Her face was still the only part she didn’t want injured, after all.

I’m sure things will get better from here on out. Even after my adoption fell through, even if Father Naijy’s dead and the almshouse is going under. Father Kuze… After all, I’m going to be his bride someday.

His fatigued smile looked as if he was always lamenting misery and misfortune.

That was why Leisha felt she wanted to make him happy.

“Hey, this one’s got a pretty face, doesn’t she…?”

“Yeah. She’s cute for a brat. I can make it work.”

“She was getting’ real cheeky with us and all.”

“She was sayin’ as much to Giza, too.”

Even the ruffians were praising Leisha’s features, too.

Of course. Leisha was the most beautiful there was. Normally, she would have felt pleased to hear their compliments, but there was something about the way they spoke that made her uneasy.

One of the men violently grabbed her hand.

“Eek…!”

“All right, you. Come with me into this room.”

“Stop! Stop it, no matter what you do, I’m not going anywhere…!”

The adult man’s grip was very strong, and Leisha was dragged off as if she was but a tiny bit of baggage. She had a terrifying premonition that everything was going to be ruined.

Something like this wasn’t supposed to exist in the world Leisha believed in.

It was why she had never imagined it.

No.

Never imagined such a thing—that everything in her life would come to an end in wretchedness and misery.

“Come on!”

“No… Save me, Father Kuze!”

The door opened before the ruffian opened it himself.

A fist came flying in from the other side.

It connected with the ruffian’s face and sent him flying.

A single man flew out from behind the door and protected Leisha.

With a bestial growl, he struck down all the ruffians in the room.

Frantically and slovenly, punching, pulling them down, hitting them with a broken piece of wood.

The man was wearing tattered black clothes, while his face was swollen beyond recognition and covered in blood. Nevertheless, Leisha immediately knew who it was.

“…Heyo.”

“Father Kuze.”

Father Kuze hugged Leisha in his big arms.

His usual ashy smell was overpowered by the stronger smell of blood, but his warmth was all the same.

“Father… Father Kuze!”

She knew from the very start.

Father Kuze was a paladin. He was always out fighting like this and protecting Leisha and the others.

No matter how battered he got, no matter how bloodied he became, he was fighting to protect someone.

“Thank you. Everyone’s…everyone’s safe. I stood up to them as everyone’s big sister!”

“Ah-ha. Leisha, thank you…thank you for protecting everyone. Thank goodness. I’m really…really glad that no one ended up dead.”

Looking up at Kuze’s blood-covered face, Leisha smiled with the prettiest face she could muster.

She thought it was becoming of his future bride.

Kuze’s face, scratched, bruised, and battered from fighting, was, to Leisha, the absolute most—

“Even when you’re all scratched up… Father Kuze, you’re still the coolest man in the world.”

“Am I, now? That’s right, huh. Normally…when you fight, you get all covered in cuts and scrapes like this, don’t you…?”

However, Father Kuze gave an exhausted smile.

Despite being victorious in a fight he could pride himself on forever and then some.

As if it was the same smile he always wore.

“…Bweh-heh-heh.”

Late at night. There was a knocking on Nophtok’s apartment door.

If things went as scheduled, it was around when Giza the Wingsword would be coming to report the results of the operation to him.

“Yes, yes. I’m coming.”

With a pigeon’s gait, he casually walked out to his door and opened it.

It was not Giza standing there on the other side.

“Oh?”

Looking at the blood-drenched man, enveloped in an even more lurid ominousness than usual, Nophtok spoke his name without any particular amount of surprise.

“Master Kuze the Passing Disaster.”

“Bweh-heh-heh… Well, see, I was just nearby and dropped in. Do you mind?”

“I see. I do mind, in fact, but…”

Kuze was dragging the edge of his great shield. The wounds all over his body were deep, and he could no longer carry it on his arm. He had walked all the way there in such a condition.

“Looking at your current state, I don’t think I can really afford to say that right now.”

“I’m glad you’re quick on the uptake… I don’t need first aid or anything, and I won’t ask you for any tea, so…”

With unsteady steps reminiscent of a departed spirit, Kuze stepped inside. In his wake, the floor was dirtied with splotches of dark-red blood, and Nophtok felt slightly disappointed.

“I see… So then, what is your business with me?”

“Ah yeah… Right. Let’s get straight to the point. Sun’s Conifer… You were the one who sent them to attack the almshouse, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Kuze was an invincible assassin. From the very start, Nophtok had been prepared for any degree of retaliation from the man. If he had come to kill Nophtok in anger, then that would be the end of it anyway, and it was more productive to own up to it all.

“Hmm, given the state you’re in now, it seems you killed quite a large number of them.”

Were the children safe? Nophtok pondered.

The children of that almshouse, having lost their guardian just a few days ago, had been the easiest hostages to capture in order to threaten Kuze. There was no greater reason behind their selection than that. However, if possible, Nophtok wanted them to be safe.

“Didn’t kill any of them.”

A smile found its way to Kuze’s blood-soaked face as he sat in his chair.

He looked extremely pleased.

“I… I didn’t kill anyone. Me. I went all out and brawled my way through it all. Can you believe it?”

“No. I really can’t.”

Kuze the Passing Disaster could not have possibly resolved a situation without killing a single person.

In the following days, the almshouse massacre was sure to be treated as a major incident. The Sun’s Conifer survivors would serve as witnesses, and Kuze the Passing Disaster would be stripped of the right to appear in the Sixways Exhibition. Even if he had failed to take the hostages, he had dealt with Kuze’s presence, for sure. It was the scenario that Nophtok had sketched out for the operation.

“You can’t force me out of the competition. I’m advancing to the second round.”

“Hmm. I’m sure you understand, but I cannot allow you to do that…”

“…There’s some fellas who do a real quick job out there. See, Yukiharu the Twilight Diver… I hear he’s already writing up an article. In the end… After I rushed in and got the kids out of that, thing is, Zigita Zogi handled everything else for me… I barely made it through on my end, really.”

“Twilight… Article? What are you talking about?”

Kuze continued, flashing a wide grin.

“An article on Sun’s Conifer capturing and occupying the almshouse—and all the particulars around it… With photos of the scene printed next to it on the page… That’ll get the information out there. With photos, it’ll be certain and reliable evidence. It’s called a newspaper article, apparently. I didn’t know anything about it myself, though…”

Something was going on. That something was a presence backing Kuze, putting their schemes into action and using their influence far swifter and much earlier than Nophtok, including cleaning up the aftermath of the incident.

“You didn’t kill anyone. Why was that?”

Nophtok repeated Kuze’s previous words back to him.

“Ah well, I wonder why myself.”

Kuze looked at the ceiling, leaning back in his chair.

“Must’ve been the Wordmaker’s divine protection, wouldn’t you say?”

“……”

“Did you know? It’s always other people…who’re the ones saving others.”

Nophtok had no means of verifying the authenticity of Kuze’s words. However—an information network was able to link everything back to Nophtok in such a short time. The name Zigita Zogi the Thousandth. Behind Kuze the Passing Disaster, there was a force threatening Aureatia, after all.

Though his entire operation may have failed, at that moment, Nophtok was able to finish things himself.

He took a deep break.

…So it comes to this. Oh well.

With this simple thought, Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell was able to choose his own death.

Kuze’s sponsor was Nophtok. If his sponsor died, then he would lose his claim to fight in the Sixways Exhibition as a hero candidate.

Nophtok himself didn’t possess the nerve to choose his own death, but even being the type of man he was, standing right in front of him was a means of certain and automatic suicide.

“Now then, Master Kuze. I will be killing you now.”

The candidate murdering his sponsor—the most reliable reason for disqualification.

“What will you do then, Master Kuze?”

“…Nophtok.” Kuze spoke with a gentle tone. “You yourself…were raised in the Order, too, weren’t you? I knew for a long time what you were getting up to and all, but… Even still, I want to believe that there has to be some sort of salvation for you, right…? That maybe there was something that left you with no other choices.”

“I… Well.”

Had there been something like that? He got the feeling that, no, there hadn’t been at all.

During Nophtok’s childhood, the Order hadn’t been in the same harsh situation it was now. Enjoying the favor and love of many people and perhaps in an attempt to pay it all back, he had ascended to his current position. As if someone had wanted him, too.

If there was a hungry young girl in front of him, he just had to offer her help.

Never propelled by his own resentment or anger, he simply had to live out his mild days and indifferently carry out the role requested of him. Even without the teachings of the Wordmaker, he thought that this unsophisticated, innate goodness in others was plenty by itself.

“Hmmm, I… I think I’m all set myself. Whether you believe in some salvation for me…or not, either way.”

“Even still, I think, how great it would be, if there was.”

He may have been right. If this salvation that he spoke of was such a good thing, then perhaps Nophtok would have sought it.

However, Nophtok was soon going to attempt to kill Kuze, then die to his instant-death ability, and that would be the end of it.

“Hey, Nophtok… What do you think when you see this?”

“……”

Nophtok could also read the Order’s script. The script, by its very nature easily taught and widely studied by those involved in the Order, was capable of being disseminated to orphans, the poor, and other people in the lower class of society.

“This would be trade documentation. Yes… And one outlining technical medical treatment…and organ selling, at that.”

“That’s right. There were people using kids bought from the Order for that stuff. They were taking diseased organs that couldn’t be regenerated with Life Arts and swapping them out with the children’s fresh organs…”

“What an atrocity.”

They were words from the heart. Nophtok didn’t want children to meet such a grisly fate.

“There’s stuff like this, too. Supplying materials for constructs. They were using minia as material to make revenants and skeletons. Using children from the Order. This, too. And this one over here, too. All of it.”

Kuze produced document after document, stacking them one on top of the other.

The blood still dripping from his wounds stained Nophtok’s study desk terribly.

“…Yes. Yes. It’s truly heartrending. Within the Order’s structure, it is impossible to prevent these sorts of crimes from happening… That is why there needs to be a new system in place to save everyone. You understand, don’t you, Master Kuze?”

“Yeah. Of course I do. So you’ll agree with me, then.”

In the final document, there was a blank space.

“What in heaven’s name?”

Still facing his study desk, Nophtok was at a loss for words.

“So all the stuff I’ve shown you just now, let’s have us be the ones who did it all.”

The paper was a jointly signed certificate that showed the Order was involved in slave trafficking.

Why did he have such a thing? Why was it necessary?

“Wh-what is the meaning of—?”

“The Order’s lining its own pockets. Using priests and innocent children for dirty business…they’ve distorted the tenets of the Wordmaker that are meant to teach people how to live decent lives and turned it into an organization that only brings people suffering. It’s all…all because in the highest reaches of the Order, there are murderous scum, or scum only motivated by profit, doing what they please.”

“…B-but that’s not…”

The story that the people…had made the Order bear responsibility for the sorrow brought by the True Demon King. A negative reputation that Nophtok himself had let spread.

“Things are fine that way. We just have to make guys like us, the big shots in the Order, into the lowest scum in the world. All the people who’ve kept believing in the teachings…and the children, have done nothing wrong. It’s not the Wordmaker’s teachings that were at fault. All of it was entirely our fault.”

“Our…fault?”

With trembling eyes, Nophtok looked over the list of signees. They were all signatures from the concerned individual themselves. Kuze the Passing Disaster. Maqure the Sky’s Lake Surface. There were even signatures from the deceased like Rozelha the Contemplating.

Long before he died in that incident, they had gotten his signature on such a document. Still more. And more. And even more…

“Eep.”

Nophtok was scared.

The Order had a large amount of organizational power. While it wasn’t fighting power, it was still enough for something like this.

And all of them, every one, voluntary.

They were trying to bear the unjustified sins, pushed on to them by the people, entirely by themselves.

“Ah right, I never told you, did I? See, appearing in the Sixways Exhibition? From the very start, it was to do this. In the second-round fight, I’m going to assassinate the Queen. It’s the scum controlling the Order’s plan to overthrow royal authority. That’ll cancel the Sixways Exhibition…then all the wicked leaders in the Order, who’d make use of an assassin like me? Well…”

Why were they doing such a thing? Such a terrible thing?

The Order, supposedly the weakest organization of all, without any military power of their own, was in fact…

“Everyone’ll be executed.”

…enacting the most dreadful scheme in the Sixways Exhibition.

“Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell. My sponsor and the supervisor for the Order… You’re the last one. There had to be someone who turned a blind eye to what the Order’s upper ranks were doing, right?”

“I—I can’t possibly sign off on something like this.”

Just how terrible a crime would they commit just to save the Order? And while falsely charging so many people for it, too.

“I… I’ve never once had a hand in slave trafficking. A-assassinating Her Majesty, it’s inconceivable. I don’t have the courage for that. I didn’t…I didn’t do anything of the sort. Anything at all!”

“You’re right. You didn’t do anything at all. That’s our crime.”

A saboteur through negligence.

When it came to dishonorable slander, Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell had meekly taken it all in.

However, that was because said dishonor had been the truth of the matter.

He couldn’t bear having such a crime be exposed for all eternity.

Why did the signatures continue to list so many names? What were they thinking? Were they really insisting that it was faith that drove this many believers into insanity?

Where was the salvation supposed to be in something this horrible?

“…See, look.”

Before he could realize it, Kuze the Passing Disaster was lingering right next to Nophtok.

Like an angel. Like a god of death.

“Even you’ve got a heart that’s terrified of sin. The heart that the Wordmaker gave you? You got it in here, for sure. Bweh-heh-heh… Good for you, Nophtok, being able to get scared like this.”

Kuze was right. Nophtok didn’t even fear his own death. He didn’t place any value in his own existence. That was how it was supposed to be. There was a pen on Nophtok’s study desk. He just needed to use the pen to try right now to kill Kuze.

His fingers trembled. He couldn’t do it. He was scared.

“What’s wrong? Go ahead and sign.”

His spirit broken, Nophtok was unable to move under his own volition.

Despite profoundly wanting to run away immediately.

From where he was—and from the very world around him.

“Stop. Please. Stop this foolish plan. I beg you.”

The Sixways Exhibition to Kuze the Passing Disaster was nothing more than a stepping stone leading them all to the gallows.

…And then. What was even more terrifying than that…

Even if all the names listed on the document were executed, Kuze alone would survive on.

There wasn’t anyone who could execute a man capable of striking back against any murderous intentions against him.

He would shoulder all the crimes and continue on, alone. A living nightmare.

“You just gotta write your name. Hey? Do you want me to teach you how, Nophtok?”

They were supposed to have virtuous hearts. Both Kuze and Nophtok himself.

Nophtok had indeed helped the Order decline. Nevertheless, he didn’t want a fate like this.

“Help. Save me.”

Kuze’s large hand made Nophtok grip the pen.

A bloodstained hand of death.

“You learned the script properly in the Order? How to write it, I mean. Right, Nofelt?”

“G-guaaaaagh…Augh…”

His head was pinned down, too. Fear had broken his spirit.

A heart that neither feared death nor sin. That was what he had thought.

Up until the terror from minutes prior, that’s what it should have been like for Nophtok, and yet…

Everything Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell had constructed was all beginning to fall apart.

“Th-the state, this state the Order’s in, i-it isn’t only my fault.”

“Sign it. Write your name, just like you learned how.”

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

“Save me. Please.”

“That’s exactly right. Make sure to pray to the Wordmaker first. Now sign it.”

Be sure to talk things out. Since everyone was bestowed Word Arts by the Wordmaker to communicate with one another.

“Help me! Kuze! Save me!”

“Write.”

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

“Sign it, Nophtok.”

“Kill the Hero for us.”

Even since he took on this earnest plea, before the start of the Sixways Exhibition, Kuze had been resigned to the sin he would bear.

The sky was clear, and the gentle sunlight bathed the world below.

It was these sorts of moments, for instance, when the angel would look at Kuze from the corridor window frame like she had something she wanted to say.

Her boyish short white hair and wings softly fluttered in a current separated from the wind of the real world.

Kuze left the confessional. Together with Maqure the Sky’s Lake Surface, they discussed the hero who was arranged to be born from the Sixways Exhibition—and the Order’s final plan. Their plan to shoulder all the crimes and ensure the survival of the Wordmaker’s faith.

Kuze thought that Nastique must have known everything about what they had said inside the confessional, too.

“…Father Maqure’s another really important person to me.”

The angel lightly floating behind Kuze’s back listened attentively to his voice with a curious look on her face.

At some point or another, Kuze had begun to think of her just like the children gathered in the church.

The sort of child who pays no attention to a boring conversation but waits for that moment to be engraved in their memories.

“That guy’s like that even in front of regular followers, see? So the actual content of his sermons never gets across. He’s always thinking about these sort of big-picture problems, you know, like about the world and society… His students have told him over and over, see, heh-heh… ‘You should have become a philosopher or something.’”

When Kuze laughed, the angel would smile slightly, too.

“…Father Kuze!”

A voice brought Kuze to a halt.

It was one of the eldest orphans who had survived the tragedy that claimed Rozelha’s life.

Even now, he’d recall the flickering memories of that day, when he killed Hyne the Swaying Indigolite.

The orphans and priest who just barely survived that incident were taken in by Maqure’s almshouse.

“Whoa, whoa, none of that now. Can’t call an old man like me Father—it’s too rude to the other priest.”

“But you were the one who saved us all, Father Kuze.”

“……”

Kuze smiled ambiguously. You’re wrong. I’m weak. I can’t protect anyone.

During that incident, many believers died tragically.

Kuze had nowhere near enough courage to learn what this survivor had seen during the incident, what she had endured.

“I… I—I ended up surviving. Even though so many of the other kids died. Why were there some who died that day and some who didn’t…?”

“Living on with those memories, that’s just as painful. That’s why really everyone’s equal.”

“But in that case…why are we the only ones who’re forced to live with this pain?! What about all the other people in the world?! Do I… Do we have to suffer like this just because we’re part of the Order?!”

Kuze tightly shut his eyes.

There were both children who died and those who got left behind.

There were those capable of living in the light and those who could only live in darkness.

Kuze, the only one under the divine protection of an angel—and everyone else, besides him.

As every living being in this world is equal, the Wordmaker bestowed them all the gift of language.

He laughed. He laughed facetiously.

Sorrow and salvation. Chosen ones. Destiny. He didn’t hold any other answers.

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

“Bweh-heh-heh… Sorry. This old fella doesn’t have a clue. I’m not too smart, see…”

An angel that bestowed death. In this world, Nastique only bestowed her divine protection on Kuze—and no one else.

However, Kuze always hoped.

Listen. I’m begging you. You’re an angel, right? Help. Please, Nastique—