The corpse in loose-fitting robes seemed accustomed to carrying a human figure on its shoulders. Even now that it was dead.

Having carried me up the mountain, the corpse of Mother Earth's follower set me down before the Grand Master's remains. I patted its shoulder and stood before her.

I opened my bag and took out the liquor.

Hundred-Flower Red, said to turn your face as red as a flower after a single cup. It was the most expensive liquor the Regressor had brought, and the first I had stashed away for myself.

A shame to waste it, but nothing less would be worthy of the Grand Master's remains.

I poured the Hundred-Flower Red into a cup and sprinkled it beside her remains.

Once to the left, once to the right. Once behind her.

Then, still holding the empty cup, I knelt before her. I set the cup at her feet and gently tilted the bottle.

The first pour for sound.

The second for fragrance.

The third for taste.

Having filled the cup in three pours, I left it before her, stood with my hands together, and bowed to the Grand Master.

Once in prayer for the life she had lived.

Once in mourning for her passing.

Then I knelt again, lifted the cup before her, and drank.

The potent liquor flowed down my throat.

And my consciousness grew hazy.

Arrogance beyond measure.

Rivers are Mother Earth's veins, and soil and stone her flesh?

Utter nonsense.

Because they revere her as their mother, they insist upon such things like a spoiled youngest child.

Rivers are no more than beads of sweat flowing over her skin, and soil and stone merely her chapped hide.

Mountains are but tiny boils upon her body. Mother Earth's blood reveals itself only occasionally, from the deepest of those scarred wounds.

Because we drink river water and till the soil, because these things are so necessary and important to us, we mistakenly believe they must be important to Mother Earth as well.

Yet compared with our mother, we are insignificant beings, less than even ants.

Mother Earth's blood is the lava flowing beneath volcanoes. Her flesh is a sea of steel that cradles that burning lava.

You have never seen it? Ha! Of course you have not.

Just as an aphid crawling over skin takes a fingertip for the horizon, we, too, can never hope to behold Mother Earth's flesh.

Perhaps her heart lies far below, at the center. But its form will surely differ yet again from what everyone imagines.

Followers of Mother Earth, remember. Our mother is merciful, but we are far more insignificant than she expects.

Humans are merely paltry creatures who dig through her chapped hide for food and drink the sweat flowing over her body.

Those who serve Mother Earth must learn humility. They must recognize their own insignificance.

We do not know whether great, vast Mother Earth watches over us or regards us with indifference.

But we who live as parasites upon her are not—

Not by any stretch of the imagination—

As great as we think ourselves.

The highest mountain in the world, Mount Unfallen.

The earth's utmost extreme, where even clouds lay beneath one's feet and a tenth of the world could be taken in at a glance.

The Grand Master knelt upon its summit.

"... I was the arrogant one."

Just as things cannot be seen from too far away, neither can they be seen from too close.

Thus, Mother Earth's faith had its followers climb mountains as an act of asceticism. The higher the mountain, the greater the value they placed upon the ordeal.

Countless people attempted to conquer Mount Unfallen, the highest of them all, and countless people died in proportion.

Strength alone could not bring anyone to a summit where the air was so thin. Those with light bodies, small frames, and highly advanced energy arts held the advantage.

A girl who had only just grasped the teachings met all these conditions and conquered the summit of Mount Unfallen.

She had fulfilled the yearning of every follower of Mother Earth.

Yet what stirred her heart was not their praise, but wonder at the world.

Having witnessed the world's greatness and learned humility, the girl declined even the position of a religious master and wandered the world. To learn more about Mother Earth, she met people, traveled, and subjected herself to ordeals.

She immersed herself in lava, and even scooped some up to put into a furnace.

Some masters condemned her. Insisting that prying into Mother Earth's secrets would only breed arrogance, they pressured her to stop at once and return.

Summoned thus, the girl stood before the masters.

And before their very eyes, she split the earth, proving herself right.

From that day onward, she was called the Grand Master. The teacher of all Mother Earth's followers.

"... Someone as insignificant as I was never fit to teach anyone."

I scratched my head as I watched the mental image speak to me.

"Corpses keep doing things nobody expects of them these days. It's becoming a real problem. Now a dead person's even talking to me through a mental image."

Unique magic was the manifestation of an individual's mental image.

Among those who manifested such magic, some harbored regrets so profound that, just before death, they forged their mental images into keepsakes. Those keepsakes then tested whoever took hold of them.

You could call them a kind of exceptionally obsessive vengeful spirit.

Well, few mental images remained this vivid without crumbling over the years.

Perhaps being at the bottom of the bottomless pit had kept this one well preserved.

"Whatever. If you're going to test me, get on with it."

As though answering me, the Grand Master slowly continued.

"There is only one thing I wish to ask of the guest who has come here."

Clear, sorrowful eyes met mine.

What I was reading now was not thought. This was closer to a book in the truest sense: a mental image written by an author with a particular intent.

I could read it better than most, but even so, there would be little difference.

"Concerning my lingering regret."

The scene changed immediately.

Hell lay before my eyes.

The world seen from the farthest distance had been so beautiful, yet the earth seen up close was hideous and horrific.

Three hundred thousand people were dead, dying, or awaiting death. Screams and cries echoed throughout the pit. Still more groans and death rattles drowned those cries out.

Most cursed the Overlord, but some, maddened by anguish, hurled their resentment at everything in existence. Naturally, that included this pit, the Grand Master who had created it, and its mistress, Mother Earth.

Though the goddess she served was being reviled, the Grand Master felt no anger. If anything, their rage seemed justified.

As she gazed upon them in despair, a hearty man of imposing stature approached her.

"Hahaha! What incredible power! To dig a pit this large all by yourself!"

The Overlord.

Sporting a magnificent beard and possessing strength that could shatter even a towering mountain, he was the conqueror of this age.

Clad in armor and thoroughly delighted, he made the Grand Master an offer.

"Say, Grand Master! Any interest in joining my army?"

After creating this atrocity, he was asking her to join his army?

Contempt, disgust, and anger surged within her. But the Grand Master, tempered by rigorous spiritual discipline, possessed the restraint to conceal those emotions.

She replied.

"... How could I, who serve Mother Earth, take part in killing?"

"Who said anything about defeating enemies with that? I wouldn't expect it! Besides, digging holes is no use in defeating an enemy!"

The strongest man of the age waved a hand confidently, declaring that miscellaneous powers only got in the way of defeating one's enemies.

"The reason I hated those bastards strutting about calling themselves buriers was all the racket they made whenever they cleared away corpses! Because of them, my precious soldiers and I had to waste time digging! You have no idea how many routed soldiers we failed to pursue, how many victories slipped away!"

Not a trace of malice could be felt from the Overlord.

What emanated from him was purity.

He was filled with nothing but the pure desire to unite the world, charging madly toward that goal without sparing a thought for those trampled beneath his hooves.

"But with you here, Grand Master, digging graves and holding funerals will be much easier! Then we won't have to disgrace the buriers, and you'll get to preserve your honor! Everybody wins!"

If everybody won, then what of those who would die at his hands?

What of the common folk who would be trampled to death in the Overlord's pursuit, during the time she saved him?

In the first place...

"If you had not killed them in the first place, would there not be no need to bury them?"

"What? You're telling me not to kill rebels?"

"Indeed. If you were to cease killing, Overlord..."

"So even the Grand Master spouts such drivel. I thought you were someone of greater vision."

The Overlord grimaced and answered as though unwilling to hear another word.

"You execute rebels to make an example of them. Isn't that common sense? If they don't want to die, they shouldn't rebel in the first place! Everyone must learn that! You know nothing about war or ruling, Grand Master!"

How could he say she knew nothing?

How many corpses had she buried during this war? On battlefields where no one could spare the effort to recover them, in villages raided by bandits, on land where warlords had swept through and slaughtered everyone.

How much death had she buried?

"Well, you're still working, so I won't press you any further! Think it over once you're finished!"

She would think it over.

With this power bestowed by Mother Earth, this power to tilt mountains and split the ground—

She would consider whether to plunge the Overlord and his army into the depths of the bottomless pit...

The scene froze. A pitch-black staff lay before me. Earth's Ripple, the sword of the earth.

I had to choose.

Would I take this staff and simply honor the souls of the dead as a burier?

Or draw it as a sword and punish the Overlord as Mother Earth's agent?

"Unbelievable."

Within that single moment of history—

"Don't test me, you runaway."

I turned the page.

The frozen world moved again. I forced my way into the past she had tried to hide and read it. The mental image creaked, seemingly disconcerted by this unintended development.

What happened afterward.

It was a dark night, when even the oblivious beasts had fallen silent.

To reflect once more upon the horror she had created and finish the funeral, the Grand Master returned to the edge of the pit. It was quieter than before.

Yet perhaps because it was dark, or because there were no other sensations or noises to distract her ears, the groans and screams sounded far clearer.

She had agonized for a long time. A truly long time.

Even after half a day, she had reached no conclusion, so she had come to do what needed doing first: cover the pit and hold a funeral to honor the souls of the dead.

There was one problem, however.

Those who had fallen were not dead.

The Overlord had begrudged even the oil needed to clean his swords, so he had them pushed in alive. After all three hundred thousand had been thrown in, he ordered the Grand Master to bury them.

A burier buried the dead.

But one could not bury those still living.

Now, half a day after they had all been consigned to the pit, nearly all were dying.

Yet many had still not died.

["They were as good as dead the moment they fell in! Just bury them! It'll be easier that way! For you and the prisoners alike!"]

The Overlord's words still rang in her ears. He had been in the middle of a banquet.

The Grand Master clenched her teeth and knelt before them.

She had agonized for a long time. Far too long.

And yet she still could not reach a conclusion.

Should she bury the prisoners still alive, or kill the Overlord as he feasted?

The Overlord was the strongest warrior of the age.

Even with the power to overturn heaven and earth and split the ground, she would have to overturn this entire land to kill him.

Surely he would not be the only one to die. Most of the soldiers under his command would be caught in it as well.

Then was it truly right to cover death with still more death?

She could reach no conclusion. The Grand Master rested both hands upon her knees and prayed.

Ah, Mother Earth. Why do you put me to the test?

If only I could no longer agonize over this. If only time would stop here—

"I am sorry."

SHUNK

Her wish came true.

For the Grand Master's time stopped there.

"I will take your sin away."

An awl-sharp stake pierced her back and emerged through her abdomen.

As the Grand Master gasped and coughed up blood, a voice heavy with sorrow sounded behind her.

"These deaths must serve as a lesson. The Overlord's sins must bring about his downfall. People must revere the Victorious King's victory, praise his virtue, and distinguish evil from good."

Despite the pain, her mind cleared. With that clarity, she understood exactly what the other person intended.

This was an excuse.

The person who had stabbed her in the back was offering excuses, overcome with guilt.

"But you, Grand Master, have become a Demon God. Just as no one holds a storm accountable for ravaging a village, or a raging fire for consuming homes and lives, humanity will merely tremble in fear before you."

Only then did the Grand Master realize who had stabbed her in the back.

"Pro...phet..."

The Sky God's apostles.

Their god was too distant for them to flourish, but they had barely kept their faith alive around their prophets. Recently, they were said to have been moving between the Victorious King and the Overlord, seeking to expand their following...

Perhaps this was their conspiracy. The Grand Master should have felt anger and betrayal.

And yet.

Why did she feel so happy?

To meet an unavoidable death at this moment of decision.

Thanks to her imminent death, only one path remained for the Grand Master.

"I have... one... wish."

The Grand Master spoke in broken breaths. The prophet answered in dismay.

"I have no right to grant it."

"Please... Let me... be buried... down there... as I am."

She had to finish what she had left undone.

She had to comfort those still living and bury the dead.

For at death's door, she was neither the Grand Master nor Mother Earth's agent, but a single burier.

"What pierced you is our symbol, and our treasure. If I remove it, you will die before long. If I leave it, evidence of our involvement will remain."

"... Please... Will you not...?"

The prophet spoke in dismay, but the plea of someone facing death carried more weight than a hundred words. Even the prophet could only hesitate, unable to act either way.

"Ah. I mustn't. I truly mustn't..."

While the prophet deliberated, someone approached from the distance carrying a torch. It was a guard stationed there to stop anyone who might climb out.

Furious at being excluded from the banquet, the guard would show no mercy to an intruder.

There was no time. The prophet made a decision.

"Do not forgive me, first Saintess, you who blessed me. Unworthy as I am, I have failed your expectations..."

With that brief prayer, the prophet pushed the Grand Master into the pit.

She fell into the midst of the corpses, yet strangely, surrounded by death, her heart felt more at ease. Dying was easier for her than killing.

As she staggered to her feet, tens of thousands of eyes gleamed before her. Angry, or resigned, they held only the last traces of fading life.

She could not save them.

She could not soothe their anguish.

Nor could she avenge them.

Having returned to being a burier, all she could do was bury them in Mother Earth's bosom.

"Mother Earth. I, too, shall be buried within your bosom. Please, I beseech you. Take us..."

The Grand Master brought her hands together and exercised her authority.

The first in the world to see Mother Earth's true form and understand even what lay within her.

She cast her final magic.

Unique magic. Gaia Ego.

"... Into your embrace."

Mother Earth had not loved humanity. Not until one person's magic reached her.

Now, Mother Earth came to cherish humanity.

That day, the bottomless pit came into being.

And humanity gained the earth arts.