Arc 3: Fate Manipulation (6)

“Is this it...?”

Aster and his companions stopped, looking straight ahead. An enormous stone statue stood before them.

The statue looked like both a woman and a man. It seemed to be smiling, yet also grieving.

Its eyes shone, and a voice rang out as though issuing from within.

[Adventurer, you have done well.]

The voice was utterly dry.

[Name the god in whom you believe. I am the Administrator of Truth and the Mediator of the World. I shall grant you the honor of meeting your god.]

“So this is the Sanctuary,” Quinier said.

Before they knew it, the dungeon’s interior was bright with the light suffusing the Sanctuary.

“You should go, Aster. You’re the only one here with Divine Power.”

Aster nodded and stepped forward.

[Name the god in whom you believe.]

Beneath the statue’s lofty gaze, Aster spoke softly.

“Baldur.”

At Aster’s answer, the statue’s light grew brighter. Just as he raised a hand to shield his eyes from its brilliance, a humanlike figure emerged, drawing all the light into itself.

The figure was immense, its body transparent as a ghost’s, revealing what lay beyond. Yet the holiness radiating from it was beyond anything a ghost could possess.

Baldur, god of light, justice, and purity.

With white hair and a face that seemed sculpted from beauty itself, he slowly opened his eyes.

He settled over the statue as though inhabiting it and looked at Aster.

[Aster Evans.]

Aster was startled. He had never expected Baldur to speak his name first.

“It is an honor to meet you, Baldur.”

[Indeed. The honor is mine as well, meeting humanity’s hope.]

“Humanity’s hope?”

[Yes. Surely you have some inkling yourself? Of your talent and strength, and the burden they must bear.]

Aster swallowed involuntarily.

The Divine Power bestowed on him by Baldur, his own talent, and the esteem of others.

During his time at Constel, he had begun to sense the role he would have to fulfill. But being called humanity’s hope to his face was another matter entirely. Especially by a god.

[This Sanctuary lacks the power to sustain a long conversation. Aster Evans, what do you desire?]

Aster considered Baldur’s question for a moment. But there was only one thing he had wanted from the beginning.

“I want strength. The strength to protect everyone, and to drive the monsters away.”

Baldur nodded dispassionately at his answer.

[That is like you, Aster.]

A mass of light spread out from Baldur. It slowly gathered around Aster, and he felt his Divine Power rise beyond comparison with what it had been.

[Aster Evans.]

As Aster felt the power settling within him, Baldur spoke.

[Aster, beware of Frondier de Roach.]

“What? What do you—”

Before Aster could finish, Baldur’s form slowly dispersed into rays of light from the statue.

Aster turned to Quinier and Jane. They looked just as bewildered.

“... Huh?”

As though sensing something amiss, Jane looked around.

There was a problem.

Nothing had changed.

“The dungeon hasn’t been cleared...?”

They had reached the Sanctuary, the dungeon’s destination, and met a god. Yet the dungeon remained uncleared.

Frondier and Saibel would only be safe once the dungeon reverted to its original state as a cave.

“W-what do we do, Professor?”

“Let’s head for the exit first. If we’ve reached the Sanctuary, the exit should be nearby. Once we’re outside, we’ll contact Constel and the local authorities.”

“Yes!”

The three hurried onward.

* * *

My strength gave out, and I sank to the ground. I never got used to this damned mana depletion.

Even kneeling with both hands planted on the ground, I was still shaking. My whole body was spasming.

“... It’s not over yet.”

I gritted my teeth and stood up.

I could see Saibel lying in the distance.

It would have been wonderful if Slave’s death had removed the poison afflicting Saibel, but game-like conveniences like that didn’t happen.

Even now, the poison was slowly spreading through her body.

Incidentally, I had stored Slave’s dagger in the Workshop.

That single weapon made the monster exponentially more dangerous, so it ought to come in handy.

I walked toward Saibel. Now I had to carry her out on my back.

By now, Aster’s group would have reached the Sanctuary. They were probably baffled that the dungeon hadn’t been cleared.

This was one of Etius’s unsolved dungeons.

Even after Aster met his god in the Sanctuary, the dungeon remained unchanged. Players had tried all sorts of methods, but no one had ever cleared it.

So I couldn’t count on this dungeon turning into an ordinary cave.

I should just leave quietly.

“Whew.”

I let out a long breath and hoisted Saibel onto my back.

... She was damn heavy.

Normally, Frondier’s body would have handled this easily, but Saibel was completely limp from paralysis, and I was suffering from mana depletion.

Was this what it felt like to carry something on your back while exhausted and dehydrated?

Let’s go.

I tried to mutter it, but couldn’t even get the words out.

* * *

Saibel slowly opened her eyes.

She felt as though she were floating on gentle waves. But she soon realized someone was carrying her on his back.

‘... Frondier.’

She tried to call his name, but no sound came out. There was no strength in her body. She couldn’t move so much as a finger.

She was still paralyzed.

‘... Am I lucky to have woken up?’

She felt no physical discomfort.

Fortunately, unaware of how serious the poison was, Saibel was able to remain calm.

Judging by what she could see, they were still inside the dungeon.

“... Hah... hah...”

Frondier sounded exhausted.

‘He looks like he’s struggling.’

His back was broader than she had expected. Solid muscles and bone.

He always looked so weak and lethargic. He really was a man after all.

“... So heavy.”

Jerk.

“Ugh, a stone in my shoe.”

Frondier lurched sharply before regaining his balance.

He really did seem to be struggling, so Saibel decided to think as kindly of him as she could.

How long had they been walking?

Frondier stopped.

She wondered if he was tired, but then noticed that the dungeon had grown bright.

This wasn’t light from outside. It was holy energy made tangible.

‘... This is a Sanctuary.’

Saibel knew instinctively.

She had heard that some dungeons had a Sanctuary at their final destination—a precious place where people could meet the gods they believed in and amplify their power.

‘So this is our destination.’

The statue spoke.

[Adventurer, you have done well. Name the god in whom you believe. I am the Administrator of Truth and the Mediator of the World. I shall grant you the honor of meeting your god.]

‘But Frondier doesn’t have Divine Power.’

Still, if this was a Sanctuary, naming any god would give him a chance to meet one. And if he was truly lucky, he might even receive Divine Power.

‘Which god will Frondier name?’

For some reason, Saibel found herself curious and listened closely.

“I...”

Frondier began to speak.

“Do not believe in gods.”

‘Huh?’

Saibel couldn’t believe her ears.

The statue merely asked:

[Why is that?]

The statue was called the Administrator of Truth because it could discern which god a person believed in.

That made naming a different god before it meaningless.

From the moment it saw Frondier, the statue had known he believed in no god.

‘He doesn’t believe in gods?’

The words were profoundly shocking to Saibel.

Most people in this world never received Divine Power. But that was entirely different from not believing in gods. How could anyone not believe in gods when they so plainly existed?

‘Then what he said during the Mistilteinn incident...?’

[“I have never feared such things.”]

Had that been neither bravado nor an attempt to look impressive, but because he truly didn’t believe in gods?

“Because I believe in humanity.”

‘...!’

Those words settled in Saibel’s heart.

Everything Frondier said accumulated, layer upon layer.

“I believe in human will. I believe in the days people build with all their strength. There is no place for gods to intervene in that.”

Those words were so dangerous that anyone from the church who heard them might brand him a heretic.

But to Saibel, they were like a mighty wind. A wind stripping away, one by one, the strands of fate wrapped around her.

“Everything we do today becomes tomorrow. I believe in that simple truth.”

Frondier’s words pierced Saibel’s heart like a blade.

... Had that been true?

Had she lived that way too?

Without knowing why, she felt ashamed of herself.

“I do not believe in gods.”

Saibel, beloved by fate.

That love was like a cradle, so comfortable and secure.

Yet it had seemed to be carrying her headlong toward the grave.

“Because I do not believe in fate.”

Those final words remained in her heart, an everlasting echo.

* * *

I felt pretty lousy throughout that exchange.

Partly because of the mana depletion, and partly because I was carrying Saibel on top of that.

But also because this entire question-and-answer session felt like a waste of time.

A Sanctuary that gave those endowed with Divine Power a chance to meet their gods.

It meant nothing to me. It was only useful to someone like Aster.

[You do not believe in gods. Is there no falsehood in those words?]

Why did it keep asking these pointless questions? It knew perfectly well that I had no Divine Power.

Was it saying that lacking Divine Power and believing in gods were different things? Did saying I didn’t believe in gods seem strange in a world where their existence was a given?

“I do not.”

[Is that so.]

Suddenly, the statue began to shine. Until then, only its eyes had glowed, but now its entire body was engulfed in light.

Even I had never seen this before.

“W-what’s going on?”

The light gathered before my eyes, revealing a pattern. I had no idea what it was, but it looked like a magic circle.

My eyes naturally captured its form and stored it in the Workshop.

CRACK

All the light soon faded, and cracks began forming in the statue. They rapidly widened into great fissures.

Enormous pieces fell to the ground.

“...?”

What was this? Had I made some kind of mistake?

The moment that thought crossed my mind, the air in the dungeon changed.

The strangely distorted patterns in the stone and the trees regained their original forms. The walls and floor returned to normal.

The dungeon was now an ordinary cave.

... In other words,

I had cleared the dungeon.

“Huh?”

Nothing like this had ever happened while I was playing the game. It couldn’t have happened.

Dazed, I stared at the shattered statue’s remains for a moment.

‘Let’s get out first.’

I hurried onward again.

Saibel didn’t have much time.

* * *

Not long after leaving the dungeon, I met Aster’s group.

I entrusted Saibel to Jane. As a teacher, she would be far better equipped to handle this than I was.

Jane and Quinier were relieved after I explained what had happened.

I told them Saibel had killed almost all the monsters.

After I arrived at the dormitory, a message came through on my Sagephone.

[Professor Jane: Saibel has been admitted to the hospital. She should be fine in a day.]

Apparently deciding this was their chance, Quinier and Jane had asked for my messenger address.

They had a suitable pretext, too: preventing another dangerous situation like this one.

Of course, I had no reason to refuse.

[Senior Quinier: Be sure to tell us if you feel anything wrong with your own health.]

[Aster: Thank you. Saibel’s alive because of you. Rest for a while.]

“How kind of them.”

But I couldn’t rest.

I sat down at my desk immediately. First, I checked my smartwatch.

[Dungeon Clear Reward]

- You have cleared the dungeon, Sanctuary of Truth.

- You have acquired the magic circle ‘Menosorpo.’

Apparently, Menosorpo was the name of the magic circle that had appeared before my eyes just after the Sanctuary broke apart.

But I had no idea how to use it. Since I knew nothing about magic circles, its name was all I had.

“Is activating it myself the only way?”

I would try using it when I had time later. That ought to tell me something.

“Next, this.”

I reached toward the mold containing the viscoelastic metal, Black River.

Fabrication, Black River.

Grade - Rare

Slave’s Eerie Dagger

[Slave’s Eerie Dagger]

? Grade: Rare

? Description: The dagger carried by Slave. Slave’s powerful resentment has become poison. Because the poison acting upon the blade is a magical property, it cannot be wiped away or depleted.

Ability Details>

- Poison (Paralysis): Poisons the target struck. The poisoned target rapidly becomes paralyzed and will die unless the poison is neutralized within 24 hours.

... As expected, it was poisonous.

This property had good synergy with Weaving.

Adding poison to my woven weapons, which appeared and vanished in an instant, would let me inflict lethal attacks on an opponent.

“... But.”

This was far too dangerous.

I’d better not use it on people.