As we advanced, the tunnel became increasingly narrower, and I felt more and more like we were walking down the cavernous maw of a beast. Beads of sweat seeped from my skin in the damp air. Since we had not suffocated, the air must not have been completely stagnant. However, it felt that way with the sweltering heat.
Did this tunnel form naturally…?
I didn’t know.
Though there was an entrance into here from the crypt, it was hard to imagine that something as large as this was built in ancient times. Though, it is doubtful to think that no work was done here at all.
There was an air of artificiality here. I didn’t know if it was the intent of the creator, but malice seemed to ooze out from this place. For that reason, every time I took a step, I felt a chill down my spine, as if I was being swallowed into someone’s internal organs.
Bersac spoke up as we walked in the small underground tunnel.
“…If the goal of the villagers is to sacrifice you, then the goal of the church is to kill you.”
“…To kill, me.” Though I had guessed as much, I was still rendered speechless when I heard him speak with such certainty.
It was a world that had built itself up around me. It had swallowed up many thoughts and interests and stretched impossibly far, like a spider’s web. Somehow, it had become so complex and entangled that nobody could see the whole picture anymore.
However, I think that I could understand it somewhat now.
“The church and the villagers have always watched each other. It’s been this way for a very long time,” Bersac said.
“The sources don’t agree on the relationship between King Arthur and religion. To the central powers of the Holy Church, it is unquestionably heretical. There isn’t a chance that they will approve of her resurrection. Though, having said that, there aren’t people in the Holy Church immoral enough to destroy an entire village because of an incomplete ritual that they don’t know the impact of yet.
“At the same time, in the villagers’ perspective, though they will never give up on their goal, they have no motive to oppose the Church for the sake of a goal they saw almost no hope of achieving. The result was a situation of mutual surveillance, and it’s been this way for centuries. Because of how long it has been, both sides have let down their guard somewhat, making this village seem like an ordinary one at first glance.” (TN: Bersac says this.)
“It does feel like something the Holy Church would do,” my mentor concluded briefly.
I also thought vaguely as we advanced in the dark, twisting tunnels. If that was the case, on the [original fourth day] in the First Cycle, did the people who killed me come from the Church?
My mentor’s face dimmed, perhaps because he was contemplating the same question.
“Then who is the masked girl?”
Hearing this question, Bersac bit his lip and responded after a few seconds of silence.
“…Since you’re a Lord, you’re aware of the three elements of human beings, yes?”
“Of course.”
In response to Bersac’s question, my mentor nodded.
“The body, the spirit, and the soul. Each part is an indispensable part that constitutes a human being. Simply a pile of proteins and fat will not create a person. A person is only a person when these three elements are bound together,” my mentor said.
I remembered hearing something similar before in class. I think it was when he was commenting on a student’s report. It was the analysis of the existence of human beings from the perspective of magecraft.
“Then that saves me the effort of explaining. You already understand that Gray was the result of an attempt to recreate the body of King Arthur, yes? After many centuries, the village has finally created an irreplaceable fruit of their labor.”
What Bersac said was obvious.
It was exactly like he said. I was an imitation of Kind Arthur. I had become who I was now ten years ago, an approximation of an ancient hero and a living sacrifice.
If that was the case, then she was—
“The masked girl is the result of a recreation of King Arthur’s spirit.”
“Spirit…?!” I couldn’t help but exclaim. Was this kind of thing really possible?
I was the body. It was comparable with a pair of identical twins. They would have the same face, the same lips, the same hands, and the same nails. That was what it was like in terms of physical appearance. Of course, there were also genetic factors, and maybe even other things like gut bacteria.
But what about the spirit?
“Can you really recreate that kind of thing?”
“Hey, hey. Isn’t there an example of that right here?” Said a lazy-sounding voice.
“Oh, dearest explorers, your forgetfulness is ever heartless(TN: I don’t know what this is supposed to mean),” said the silver knight, shrugging exaggeratedly.
“The spiritual model of Sir Kay,” my mentor muttered.
The silver knight that was the basis for Add’s personality.
After thinking about it, wasn’t it the same technique used to create the masked girl?
“This technology existed before in the past. The recreation of someone’s spirit or body to create what is essentially their doppelgänger is part of the residue of the Age of Gods, or perhaps even the unreachable realm of Fairies.”
“Huh, you even know about this, impressive. Now, there’s copyright or whatever you call it, but it wasn’t there back then. We could replicate whatever we wanted back then. For instance, when I got chosen because of my personality, they never even got my consent.”
The knight laughed grimly.
I was unsettled by his words.
Sir Kay was the personality basis for Add, the scythe in my hands. This, I knew. Though they talked and thought about different things, some parts of them made me think of them as the same person. Add and the knight were similar, almost like two flowers sprouting from the same branch.
Exactly how similar are they, though?
If Sir Kay’s adoptive sister was King Arthur, what did he see me as? …No, at the end of the day, what did Add see me as? Even thinking of that question made my throat tighten, and I felt an unbearable fear.
“Thank you for your explanation, Sir Kay,” Bersac said, bowing his head.
“Because of that, once the body, spirit, and soul are united, King Arthur will be revived as the once and future king. At least, the villagers think so,” Bersac continued.
“That’s strange,” my mentor commented.
“Even if the body and the spirit are reunited, there is no way to replicate the soul. If they did manage to do so, [it wouldn’t just be greater magecraft, but true Third Magic.]”
Magic.
My mentor had mentioned it before during classes at the Clock Tower.
Though magecraft was a part of Mystery, it was within the reach of humans. Because of the advance of technology, the range of it has also become wider. Now, people could dive deep into the ocean, communicate with people in distant places instantly, and even travel to different planets.
However, there are still things that don’t exist.
Five such things exist.
The scholars of Mystery call these five impossibilities “magic”.
“Yes, it should be impossible to gather all three. The church never believed that they could, and neither do most of the villagers.”
Bersac agreed with my mentor on this.
That was the inherent problem with recreating a soul. Though this place had succeeded in recreating the body and the spirit, the last component was still out of reach.
Next, Bersac turned to him dramatically. “The way to recreate a soul. Don’t you know the answer to that question?”
A couple of seconds of silence followed. How could I know, the silence seemed to say. However, there was a change a few seconds later.
“Could it be…” my mentor moaned.
“Servants…!”
“Though I have never seen them myself, Servants in the Holy Grail War are summoned together with their souls from the Throne of Heroes, right?” Bersac said calmly.
“If that is the case, if the Fifth Holy Grail War begins, and King Arthur is summoned as a servant, the possibility that the three can be united will appear.”
The Holy Grail War.
The war that my mentor had taken part in before. The war which he had once wanted to partake in again.
The war that was rumored to be able to [summon even the souls of heroes], which was an anomaly amongst mages. I had never thought that ritual in the Far East could be related to this place in that kind of way.
“Of course, the chance for that is not high. The chance that King Arthur will be chosen from the millions of Heroic Spirits is slim to say the least. However, the Church has noticed this possibility. Since they always send overseers over, they are more informed about the Holy Grail War than the Clock Tower is. …For that reason, they sent people over from their headquarters early on, and thoroughly investigated the village.”
“…Sister Illumia, isn’t it.” The nun that the Church had sent here a couple of years ago. Was she a member of the Holy Church? Bersac gave the answer to this question easily.
“Exactly. Sister Illumia is the illegitimate child of one of the Cardinals.”
The unexpected words took my breath away. “Cardinals… aren’t they high-ranking members of the surface organization?”
“Unfortunately, that kind of identity can’t be disclosed, so she was raised in an orphanage. Though, as an Executor, her abilities are quite outstanding. Usually, they wouldn’t send someone like her to such a remote place… that means, she must be interested in this village. According to some information, rumors say she volunteered to be here.”
The cards on the table were flipped over one by one.
My brain could not keep up with the speed at which things were being revealed. So much information as now swirling around in front of my eyes, to the point that I couldn’t process it all.
What would happen?
What had happened?
Before we arrived in this Second Cycle, had the events played out the same way?
“Oh yes, by the way, a messenger from the church was posing one of the traveling merchants. He seems to have fallen into the hands of the villagers.”
Bersac’s even words made me feel as if I had just taken another blow to the head as I was still reeling from what he had said earlier.
“…H-how.”
Just how many hidden conspiracies surged in this village?
Of course, I didn’t think that this was a regular village. Though it looked that way at a first glance, as one of its members, I thought I was aware how strange this village was, at least to some extent.
However, this was completely outside my realm of imagination.
The place where I had spent most of my life now seemed hopelessly distant. Unknowingly, I stopped walking, and finally realized (it).
“Sir?”
I turned around to see that my mentor had also stopped in his tracks.
“Is that the case.”
As he said that, my mentor bent over.
“Is that, the case…” he covered his face with his hands and muttered again.
“Sir Kay, it’s this, isn’t it.”
“It’s all a trap(TN: Alternatively, setup).” My mentor nodded at the shrugging silver knight, and then dramatically walked up to the grave keeper and asked him a question.
“Bersac Blackmore. Who is that behind you? No, [what is it]?”
*
“Waitwaitwaitwait wait, what?!”
A raucous voice resounded in the space.
Many crystal balls floated in the air. At first, there had only been one, but they had kept dividing and increasing like bubbles until they surrounded them.
The sound came from the blond teenager. Innocence and curiosity were spread thickly like butter all over his eyes, which showed the nervousness and truthfulness in his heart. (?) He had been staring at the crystal ball with those eyes.
“Why would it turn out like that? Wasn’t Mr. Bersac Gray’s companion? No, no, what even is the spirit of King Arthur?! Ah, No! The crystal ball is too blurry! Do you think I’ll be able to fix it if I hit it at a 30-degree angle with a strengthened karate chop?”
It was Flat Escardos (TN: After cursory googling, I discovered that there are actually people named Flat. You learn something new every day, I guess?). Needless to say, he was that most notorious teenager in the El-Melloi Classroom. Someone else was next to him.
“What’s going on…!” He moaned.
Small crackles of lightning radiated off of the other unmatched person (?) of the El-Melloi Classroom, Svin Glascheit.
The magical energy rippling around the teenager became hostile because of his anger. Though this was inevitable for users of Bestial Magecraft, it was rarely this full of hostility. Clearly, the teenager’s emotions were already outside of his own control.
“…Hmph. Is there still a point to watching. The hard work of the actors should be rewarded, so I added more crystal balls. Does that displease the two of you?” Said the young man in response to those howl-like words.
Though he seemed to be a young man, his true age was indiscernible. In the blinking lights, that face, which looked to be that of someone aged around twenty-five, appeared sometimes like that of an ancient sage. Was this a characteristic of Superior Dead Apostles? The only thing that was for sure was his grace and unpredictability.
It was the director of the Atlas Institute.
Zepia Eltnam Atlasia. The man who stood in a position above all twelve Lords of the Clock Tower.
Two people confronted one person— or perhaps you could say, [one person] in this strange space.
“As I said earlier, you two cannot interfere with the reenactment. Unfortunately, you are not qualified to do so. After all, you were not in the village back then. Though your acting abilities were quite admirable during the audition, you don’t meet even the most basic requirements. It is already a compromise of mine to let you observe from the backstage.”
Zepia’s incessant words and unique performance made it difficult to interpret the true meaning of his words.
Though, he didn’t seem to be lying.
Right now, Lord El-Melloi II and Gray were being struck by something in the crystal. The overwhelming changes in the world of the past— or perhaps you could say the relationships that they had uncovered— were now driving both of them to the brink.
Why wasn’t he there with them? Why was he not there to tell him that whatever happened, Svin Glascheit was always going to be their companion? His frustration nearly made his Magical Energy go out of control, and Svin desperately controlled himself as he tried to organize his thoughts.
…Also.
Thought a corner of his mind.
The Atlas Institute, the organization that Zepia belonged to, was sometimes referred to as a “living hell”. If someone stepped into its gates, they will never get to leave.There, they would drown in their own research and dedicate their entire life to the eternal. They were like computers that ran forever in the middle of a cold computing room. It would be a stretch to call them living organisms at all.
For that reason, it was easy to understand why the director of that institution spent so much time wandering outside it. Though the situation in the village was urgent, the utmost care had to be taken either way.
…First of all, what’s going on here?
He let his eyes own eyes turn to look at his surroundings. Though there were only a couple meters of distance, it felt like the space stretched out indefinitely to Svin.
Just like how Svin had unusual senses in terms of magecraft, his regular senses were also overwhelmingly sharp(?). Now, those senses were telling him that this space did not follow the laws of physics. If he couldn’t figure out the structure of the location, he had no chance of winning a fight against that man.
…Take your time, he thought, as he swallowed his own dissatisfaction.
He only needed to experience a miserable defeat once— that time with the Seal-Designated Aozaki Touko was enough. She had forced him to see that in this world, not every opponent could be dealt with using Bestial Magecraft. If that was the case, he had to be more careful. He needed to use his goal as a basis to create the conditions for victory and to protect the things which he had to protect.
First, he needed to understand the strange device more.
“Wait, weren’t you in the village back then?” Svin asked in a low voice. “So, does that mean you can also enter that world like my teacher(TN: I went with ‘my teacher’ for… no good reason actually) and Miss Gray?”
“Mmhmm. Your analysis is correct, but paradoxes must be avoided. If I entered the world while constantly calculating it, the system would have to recalculate the world, myself included. I would then basically automatically calculate results based on the recalculation. That would be a giant problem. Though some people prefer scripts that contain large amounts of information, there is no way that amount of information could be accommodated in this kind of nested structure. Ahh, I am also looking forward to how Lord El-Melloi II and that grave keeper girl will continue to struggle to reach their goal.”
Half of what he said could not be understood.
In a nutshell, it meant that the one who had the most to do with the current situation, Zepia, could not control what happened in that world. It seemed that regardless of whether or not what he saw was a simulation or the actual past, they all had the ability to operate even without Zepia’s ideas.
“Then, can you bring them back?”
“Unfortunately, I cannot, because that would go against the contract.”
“The contract?”
“In the past, the Atlas Institute signed a contract with the previous form of this village. Though I wasn’t the person who made the deal, its power is absolute. I must abide by it, including in cases of anomalies such as yours.”
…The Contract of Atlas.
He remembered hearing about this somewhere. The seven contracts that the Atlas Institute had sent out in the past. The Atlas Institute would have to accept and fully support any request made by those who held the contract… or something around those lines.
Then, was that the reason why the director of the inescapable Institute of Atlas, was now wandering about?
“…..”
He carefully pondered the information in his hands like he was examining a sparkling gem, or like he was sniffing some food.
However basic a problem might be, he needed to start from the same place. The teenager knew this well.
If he didn’t want to fail miserably again, he needed to give himself as much of an advantage as possible. It didn’t matter how embarrassing it would be, he needed to gather all the fragments of stars (possibilities) he could, even if it meant he had to kneel on the floor and beg.
…He said that Flat, Sir Kay, and I were anomalies.
He carefully made sure that he did not overinterpret anything.
That means that this person has no way of making sure of whether we would be here, or the events that happened with his teacher and Grey-tan.
He recalled what he had been told of before.
It was said that Zepia spoke almost as if he could predict Lord El-Melloi and Reines’ futures. It was the distillation of magecraft that was the direct opposite of that of the Clock Tower, the power to calculate countless yet not infinite futures and to say that reality was just one of many scripts, a simple incarnation of calculation.
Even still, Zepia called the current situation an anomaly?
…If that was the case.
He put his hands behind his back and moved his fingers.
He adjusted the magical energy to a wavelength that only Flat could see and used it to talk to him by making the energy take the form of text. (TN: Idk if the ‘wavelength’ here is literal or not, because if it is, that opens up a whole new world of ‘does magical energy travel in waves’ and I am not prepared to deal with that.)
It was something they did quite often when they teamed up.
The message he sent read: analyze this magecraft, take care not to be noticed.
[OK!]
Flat gave a reply immediately.
His signal was to rub his fingers together rhythmically. Svin could clearly pick up the smell of the oils on his fingers rubbing together. Not even their teacher, Lord El-Melloi II, had noticed how they communicated with each other through magical energy and smells.
Zepia showed no sign of noticing this either.
Flat could probably go up against the alchemy of the Atlas Institute. The best proof of that was how he managed to break the bounded field in the forest to arrive here. As long as he was given enough time, he could probably fashion a way to take revenge on Zepia.
The problem lay in the timing…
When would this alchemist from the Atlas Institute let down his guard?
This alchemist had probably already seen through all their intentions. The only reason why he did not take any action now was not out of laziness or arrogance, but simply because he thought that Flat and Svin were not sufficiently strong. In his brain, they had probably already lost the fight thousands of times.
If that was the case, what he needed now was not just his own efforts, but also some other key factor.
What might that be?
He thought, as he pondered his own powerlessness.
He felt as if he was a snail that only crawled the length of a finger while its opponent had already ran all the way around the earth. Still, even though he knew there was such an insurmountable difference in their abilities, he had no choice but to continue.
Would it happen when his teacher undid the puzzle? Would it be when the knight does something? Or perhaps would it be something even more surprising than that?
Why did he always have to rely on others?
He felt a pain in his heart, as if it was being pressed with a vise(TN: or possibly vice?).
Every expression and sentence from Gray that hid a trace of sadness seemed to cut at his insides. It was the first time that Svin realized that watching other people’s movements could bring so much of a burden to his body. He hadn’t even felt this much pain when his magic circuits had been awakened.
…Even so.
He would wait, even if it was for an eternity, the thought. Even if it was just to so he could bring her the tiniest bit of help.
-End of Part 4 of Chapter 1 of Book 7-
—————————————————————————————————————————————————— ——
Originally Posted by All fictions
Reply With Quote
