Chapter 24: BRAVE QUEST
“He's dead.”
Iris let out a hollow laugh.
A rotten corpse was greeting Iris. Its naked body was blackishly scorched, and the pervasive sll of feces and urine stabbed at her nostrils. Above all, the two long, forked tongues stimulated Iris's disgust.
“Th, this is absurd! To think Tarkan is dead!”
The prison guard's face turned ashen.
“I'm sorry, Your Highness! I've shown you a filthy sight. He was definitely alive until last night……”
“Don't mind it.”
Iris said to the bowing prison guard.
“My appetite was already long gone. Your face is just as disgusting. But I am curious. Two-Tongued Tarkan……. I had ordered a thorough watch on this half-orc.”
Why is he dead without my permission.
Iris interrogated, her light pink eyes flashing. The prison guard, choosing his words with his eyes squeezed shut. He could only salute earnestly, saying he would check the progress.
“Good.”
Iris gestured for him to retreat.
“Gather the guards who were on duty last night. I wish to observe this place a little more.”
“Understood! Right away……! I will gather them right away!”
The prison guard began to run in a hurry. The sound of footsteps decorating the spiral corridor. Iris let out a sigh and turned her gaze. Her purple hair, resembling the night sky of the polar regions, fluttered. The sll of the sea, steeped within. A benevolent smile appeared on Iris's stern face.
‘I understand. It couldn't have been helped with just you all.’
Iris put a Cigarette holder to her lips.
‘But my role is…….’
The cigarette at the end of the holder burned down.
Acrid smoke, scattering from between Iris's lips.
‘To strictly bind you all.’
This was the Blue Lagoon Jail, located near the capital, Naflansee. A building specially designated to house notorious criminals.
The Blue Lagoon Jail was in the middle of an island. Sharp cliffs, swarming sharks, and fickle currents. The residents of the island were either prison guards, the families of prison guards, or inmates who had committed heinous cris. It was an institution where maintaining discipline was important.
‘By the way…….’
Iris stared at Tarkan's corpse.
‘Who killed this man.’
It was self-evident that it was by murder, but infiltrating this place was an extrely difficult task.
Solitary cells blocked by three layers of iron doors, seamlessly installed barriers, and specially made golems to assist in guarding. If one were to be exposed to a trap, they would imdiately fall into a pocket dinsion, and it was a place where evil spirits wandered in every deserted spot…….
‘Well, it's obvious.’
Iris sneered lightly.
The eyes of a Saintess could not be deceived. If a creation who had received power from a single main god was called an Evangelist, then a Saintess was a being condensed with the power bestowed by all the main gods. Iris perceived the traces left on Tarkan's corpse with the authority of the main gods.
‘Apostates?’
Not one. Two, three……. No, five…….
Did multiple apostates invade this place?
‘How interesting.’
Towards Iris, who had been thinking so,
[Your Highness.]
A voice that was cast along with regular footsteps.
It was a female-type golem she was fond of using for assistance.
“What is it?”
Iris turned her body towards the golem.
The hem of her reddish-brown Redingote swayed.
“I would have ordered you to wait at the entrance. Has so urgent matter co up.”
[Excuse .]
The golem held out its right hand, on which a magic circle was engraved.
For a mont, a light flashed, and a crudely sealed letter was teleported.
[I have acted according to the priority of the command. Because a letter has been delivered in the na of the distinguished guest designated by Your Highness…….]
“Thank you.”
Iris took the letter. There weren't many distinguished guests to begin with. And among them, there was only one person who would send such an informal letter.
I will co to see you tomorrow.
─Abel Argento.
‘It seems you have also caught the scent.’
Iris thought, crumpling the letter. A bundle of paper rising on the golem's palm. Now that Tarkan was dead, there was no reason to stay here. Iris moved her feet without delay.
- Your Highness Orléans!
The prison guards, blocking Iris's path.
- We have gathered upon your command!
The guards who had been on duty the previous night were saluting in a stiff posture. Iris bit her cigarette holder and let out a languid breath. Beyond the thick scattering smoke, the guards were frightened by the notoriety of Duke Orléans.
Iris opened her mouth with a sneer.
“You lot are truly useless. Like rice-eating worms.”
‘Everyone, you must have had a hard ti overworking yourselves in this remote place.’
Iris said, passing through the guards, and at the sa ti, thought.
“Autopsy Tarkan's corpse imdiately, and submit a report in the near future.”
‘The report is not actually necessary, but I feel I should instill so tension in you all.’
Do you understand, and.
At the sa mont Iris questioned the guards,
- Understood, Your Highness!
The clamoring voices.
“Hmph.”
‘Oh my.’
Iris said, snorting.
At the sa ti, she admired inwardly.
“You answer well.”
‘Your voices are loud, which is good to see.’
* * *
Cia-Harphe Academy's Black Swan Building.
While the tree branches swayed in the evening wind,
‘This place is…….’
Monika opened her eyes. She tilted her head, seeing a familiar ceiling. The dormitory? At so point……, and. Monika's expression, which had been thinking blankly, distorted. Her whole body began to ache as if she had rolled down a mountain path.
“Stay lying down.”
Abel's voice from her bedside.
Monika shifted her gaze towards Abel.
“Teacher……, Abel?”
“It must be a struggle to even turn over. Since you fought unreasonably.”
Monika, while groaning in pain, asked a question.
“What about Tremblay? Did I win?”
“You could say so.”
“Did I……, kill a person?”
“No, I finished him off.”
Abel said in a calm tone.
“He was nothing more than a replica in the first place. The process of killing a being with flesh and blood, and a soul, will be much more burdenso. So, let's say you won, not that you killed.”
A battle does not end the mont you are victorious.
Abel whispered, placing his hand on Monika's forehead.
“It is a law that it ends by acknowledging and caring for the wounds sustained in the process.”
Abel inford Monika of her condition. Which part of her bones were broken, and which part of her muscles were crushed. Her legs were covered in bruises. Her fingernails were a ss. Therefore……,
“It must be just the prosthetic arm.”
Abel said with a faint smile.
“Among the things that make you up, the only part that is sound.”
“I suppose so.”
Unlike in the stone chamber, Monika obediently admitted it.
She moved her prosthetic arm to give a thumbs-up.
“It hurts terribly. Except for this prosthetic arm, that is. So it must be a relief. It's like having a last resort even if my body is all broken.”
“One could think so.”
To acknowledge your body, to accept the tools that make up your body, and to grasp the wounds sustained after a battle. All of that was the purpose of this training.
Abel, who had been muttering so, recited a cast.
Above Monika's forehead, a flurry of light rose on the back of Abel's hand.
The flurry of light thickened and seeped into Monika's body. The distinct bruises began to disappear, and the pain, as if she had been beaten with a club, also faded. Monika's expression, relaxing comfortably. She felt a warmth as if she had soaked her body in a hot bath.
By the way, what kind of cast is that.
Monika thought, pursing her lips. It was a cast that seed to make the God of Fate frown, but its effect was certain. Monika quickly sat up and examined her body. Her uniform, torn in various places. The wounds that should have been beyond it were gone.
“Fabien will repair the uniform.”
I am ignorant of the household magic that restores clothing.
Saying so, Abel walked towards the living room.
“Go wash up, Monika.”
Abel, glancing back at Monika.
“I've prepared a al.”
……A al?
Monika tilted her head. Co to think of it, Abel's attire was unusual. The sight of him wearing an apron over his formal dress shirt. The lace sewn onto the pure white Linen was shining freshly.
“It really…….”
Monika said with a blank expression.
“Slls delicious.”
.
.
.
‘It's been a while.’
Abel thought, transferring the vermicelli pasta to a plate. Was it 200 years ago that he last cooked? He had grown distant from cooking after becoming unable to eat. He thought he had once been in charge of his comrades' diet. Before becoming a Hero, he had even won an award at a cooking competition.
“W, what is all this?”
Monika's eyes widened.
“I don't rember buying the ingredients to make sothing like this……”
“I asked Fabien to procure them.”
Tuk, and.
Abel placed the plate of pasta beside Monika. The table was piled high with food. It felt as if dishes that should have co out as a course had been poured out all at once. Monika fiddled with her wet hair, dazed.
“Hurry and eat.”
Abel sat down across from Monika.
“It won't taste good if it gets cold.”
“……What about you, Teacher?”
Aren't you eating, Teacher?
Monika asked with a careful expression.
“I have beco unable to eat food. You don't need to mind it. Because I have also beco unable to feel hunger.”
“You're talking strangely again?”
Where is there a person who doesn't feel hunger, who can't eat food. A resurrected dead person by Fleur de Saint-Pierre would be so. In the case of elves, they say they can go three days just by chewing on a leaf, but Teacher Abel's appearance is unmistakably that of a human…….
‘There must have been a limit to procuring the ingredients.’
Is he trying to let eat it all?
Thinking so, Monika picked up her cutlery, and,
“Let's eat together.”
She held it out to Abel.
A slight agitation crossed Abel's eyes. This child just won't believe my words.
‘Sincerity should get through.’
Is it because she has lived so harshly that she can't recognize another's sincerity? Thinking so, Abel accepted the cutlery that Monika held out.
“……Alright.”
It can't be helped.
Abel thought, looking at Monika who was picking up new cutlery.
“Well then, I'll eat well!”
Monika began to greedily stuff the food into her mouth. The wounds that had filled her body were all sealed, but her exhausted physical and ntal strength had not recovered. That was why she quickly chugged the soup and bread, at and fish, and the juice in the glass, and……,
“──Puup!”
She spewed it all out at Abel.
“……Why are you spitting it out again.”
Ttuk, ttuk…….
The food, flowing down his jawline. Abel asked, wiping it with a towel.
“Do you have an allergy to not being able to accept expensive things? You also spat out your ginger ale when we were buying the Porginay. And you almost spat it at when you heard the price of the flower tea.”
“N, no. That's……”
“Eat with ease.”
It's not like I used very expensive ingredients.
Muttering so, Abel took a bite of the soup.
“It's delicious.”
In truth, he couldn't feel any taste at all. Only a pain as if he were swallowing a burning stone could be felt. He had only made it up so that Monika could eat with ease.
“……I see.”
Monika cleared her throat.
‘It tasted terrible. The seasoning was a ss too…….’
Does this kind of food suit my teacher's palate?
The presentation is so pretty. The sll is also so fresh.
But why is it? What is making it taste rotten?
Monika thought, poking at the pasta. She couldn't refuse the food he had prepared with such care, saying it didn't taste good. And above all, he must have carried her, who had fainted at the Naflansee Grand Cathedral, all the way to the Black Swan Building…….
“I, it's delicious!”
Monika forced a smile.
“That's a relief.”
Abel also wore a faint smile.
And so, the al began. Abel was careful not to let the pain show on his expression, and Monika desperately stuffed the food down her throat. That was why there was no conversation. Only the clattering of cutlery, and the sound of chewing and swallowing food went back and forth.
“There is one thing I'm curious about.”
In the midst of that, Abel opened his mouth.
“Why is the dormitory in this state.”
“The state of the dormitory?”
Monika looked around, with the tip of her fork to her lips. There was nothing different from usual. She had taken special care in tidying up, and she would have noticed any traces if an intruder had been there.
“There's nothing wrong?”
“……I see.”
So that's how it is, and.
Abel muttered with a sigh-laden voice.
To Abel, Monika's dormitory looked like the residence of a survivalist. More stored drinking water than necessary, and a pile of canned food. A gas mask and chemical-biological protection suit, and scrolls with spells needed for daily life written on them. A device that could filter rainwater and a large amount of dical tools were prepared.
‘It must be because she's afraid of war.’
Abel thought, looking down at his knife.
Monika had lost everything due to the Mirror War. It was natural for her to worry about another war breaking out. Even though a great catastrophe incomparable to a war was waiting…….
“What is that.”
Abel gestured with his chin at one side of the living room wall.
The pieces of paper stuck to the wall. The question was not about them. The nas of those who had lived in Sarrifis must be written on them. The problem was the old stuffed doll leaning against the wall below them.
It was probably just that doll.
Among the items in Monika's dormitory that were age-appropriate.
“Ah, that is……”
Monika stood up from her chair.
Then she ca back to her seat, holding the stuffed doll. It was a doll of a boy with a dignified expression. Hair woven from golden yarn, blue plastic eyes, and armor that was stained but colorfully shaped. Monika placed her hand on it.
With an endlessly bright smile.
“It's the Hero.”
“……The Hero?”
Abel's head tilted powerlessly.
“You know him too, right, Teacher? I an, the fairytale based on the content of the scriptures. When the Demon King appears, the Hero is also born. The world is saved by the Hero.”
It's a story I really like.
Monika muttered, blushing slightly.
“I see.”
Abel let out a short groan. Co to think of it, he had heard that a fairytale adapted from the prophecy about the Hero was popular. It wasn't an object of interest, so he had never looked into it, but……,
“So you like the Hero.”
“Of course! The Hero is cool.”
Monika hugged the Hero doll tightly.
“When I was at the orphanage……, the nun would often read it to . The story of the Hero. I would also wander around the back mountain playing Hero with the other kids there, and I also got into trouble for insisting I would find the Holy Sword……”
He saves everyone regardless of their status. While facing the Demon King with the Holy Sword in hand, he sotis even reforms his enemies…….
Monika told Abel such a story. What on earth should I do with this child. Such a worry tornted Abel's mind. A Hero who respects himself, how ridiculous.
“The Hero is really amazing. He's like a lantern of living life. Flowers will bloom and animals will gather wherever the Hero passes. Right?”
“……I suppose so.”
No.
The Hero's progress and the physiology of nature have no connection at all.
Thinking so, Abel still nodded his head.
“And listen, Teacher. The word ‘cool’ was made for the Hero. That content must be added to the dictionary. Absolutely.”
“……I suppose so.”
No.
A language shouldn't be changed because of one being.
Thinking so, Abel still nodded his head.
“Of course, people might not know how cool the Hero is. If the Hero ever actually appears, it will be hard to even face him because of his halo.”
“……That might be so.”
No.
We're facing each other so closely right now.
Thinking so, Abel still nodded his head, and then……,
‘……I can't tell her the truth.’
He finally wore a smile mixed with resignation.
Monika would still need a pillar of support. There was no reason to go out of his way to crush it. In a way, it was a process of dreaming of her future self. The advent of the Demon King was not far off, but the weight of the urgency should rightfully be shouldered by an adult.
“And if the Hero had been here……”
anwhile, Monika hugged the Hero doll.
“Sothing like the Mirror War wouldn't have happened, right?”
Abel's gaze hardened.
He just moved his lips, but no answer ca to mind.
“I heard from Professor Felix Christian. That you also participated in the Mirror War, Teacher……”
“I did.”
“You participated as a Sword Saint, right, Teacher?”
“I was not a Sword Saint back then. I just belonged to His Holiness's direct unit.”
When the Mirror War broke out, Abel had fought hard for a quick end. He had no ti to look around. He had even forgotten the nas of the fellow Holy Knights he had worked with. In the first place, Abel had operated in secret with Iris, and before being a Sword Saint or a Holy Knight, he was nothing more than a stranger from another world.
‘……A Hero from another world.’
Regardless of Abel denying that he was the Hero, that was Abel's position among ‘The Mother God's Left Hand’.
That was why he knew. Just because one was a Hero, it didn't an they could prevent the outbreak of a war. A war would break out from the mixture of the desires, stubbornness, and hatred of countless people, and if there was a being who could neutralize even that, it would be none other than the Demon King.
Because only by getting rid of this world would war also disappear.
“Monika, the reason I couldn't save you is……”
Abel said in a subdued voice.
The limits of a Hero. That was right before his eyes.
What if he had made a different choice? Abel thought with his gaze lowered. What if he had set everything aside and tried to take care of that child?
A position that could gain a political advantage, a network of relationships that could promise the support of future generations, if he had left behind the factors that could beco a spark and had run to Sarrifis to take care of Monika Lohengrin…….
Even if he couldn't save the world,
He could have at least protected the things that child had lost.
‘How ridiculous.’
Abel shook his head with a bitter expression.
All of this was absurd. To weigh the weight of a life on a scale was the very definition of being self-contradictory. To think he was just asuring as if he were a god in a human body. Abel swallowed the welling disgust.
“What are you talking about?”
Monika shook her head.
“You saved , Teacher.”
You awakened my talent,
You made a student at CIAR,
And you even made this cool prosthetic arm…….
Why do you think you couldn't save ?
Monika asked, wiggling her prosthetic arm playfully.
“Are you perhaps thinking that you couldn't save Sarrifis?”
Don't, and.
Monika whispered carefully.
“It hasn't been long since I've known you, Teacher, but I can still be sure.”
You must have tried hard, right?
Barely sleeping, and not even eating your als properly.
“Trying so hard……, you must have tried to end the war even a little bit sooner. So, thank you. You shouldn't feel self-loathing, Teacher.”
I'll take that.
The self-loathing that the one left behind should enjoy is mine and mine alone.
You said so, Teacher. That the organ that senses the dead is not the eyes, nose, ears, or tongue, but the sense of loss.
So I'll make it mine. Please don't take it away.
“Do you understand, Teacher?”
Monika held out her pinky finger.
“Please promise .”
“……Let's do that.”
Abel wore a self-deprecating smile.
Monika's and Abel's pinky fingers intertwined. Their thumbs touched. But Abel could not cast off his self-loathing. Not fresh food, not dream-like sleep, but only self-loathing was the driving force that moved Abel's body.
“Ah, that's right. It was.”
Monika suddenly clapped her hands.
As she was, she stood up from her chair and approached the bookshelf. Monika, who had been rummaging for a while, ca back holding a thick paper box. Abel's eyes wavered slightly at the sight of it.
. A phrase written in the center of the box. Around the letters, illustrations depicting a hero and his comrades were drawn, and a sentence saying ‘Let's go and subjugate the Demon King now’ was written in a cheerful handwriting.
“It's a board ga based on the story of the Hero.”
“No need to explain. I know.”
Why on earth is sothing like that popular.
Abel held back a sigh that was about to erupt.
“Would you like to play together? If you go back now, you'll just be polishing your old weapons anyway. You need to learn how to rest too, Teacher. too.”
“……Do as you please.”
Abel brushed back his hair.
“Have you ever played it? It's a very famous ga……”
“I think I have. Though it must have been just once.”
“That's a relief. It's more complicated than it looks, this ga.”
As the night deepened, Abel and Monika played, each holding their own Token.
All the tokens symbolized a hero with a different personality. The starting point was different for each, but the Demon King was waiting at the finish line. The rule of the ga was that the one who defeated the Demon King first would win. All values were determined by dice, and the main fun factor was playing the role of the hero.
“I lost.”
“──I won!”
Monika's clear cheer echoed.
Abel could not reach the finish line even once.
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