“The blood of the Terrace people sells for a lot,” he said.
The moment those words hit their ears, Pawk and her parents froze.
The man kept talking. The plague back on the island had died down, but there were still buyers out there who wanted Terrace blood.
It was highly valued in certain circles and worth an enormous amount of money.
By the time Aros saved her, her parents had already been killed.
The scars etched into Pawk’s heart would never fade.
She remembered the path that had led her to yearn for an ideal world, and with that memory came the old nausea. A hand flew to her mouth as she bent over, riding out the wave of sickness.
“Hideous…” she whispered.
The men who had murdered her parents no longer walked this earth. Aros had beaten them half to death and then ceded the final blow to Pawk. Not only that, he had hunted down and killed everyone involved in buying Terrace blood.
With that kind of justice laid at her feet, it was no wonder she’d pledged him her undying loyalty.
Revenge is necessary if you want to restart a life.
Some proverb somewhere claimed revenge produced nothing, but such nonsense only sounded wise to people who’d grown up in a greenhouse, never once seized by a hatred so strong it made them physically writhe.
To take back your honor, your dignity, your sense of self and to rob your enemy of any future at all.
How could that not save a person’s heart?
There were still fools in the world who sought the blood of the Terrace people, but inside the Aros Temple Cult, not a single soul set their sights on hers.
Mostly because none of the believers even knew what the Terrace race was in the first place.
For Pawk, that suited her perfectly. She liked living a life where she didn’t have to hide her face.
“Ah, Aros-sama.”
In the underground levels of Metasim, she spotted a masked man standing alone at the planned site of one of the new facilities.
Pawk descended toward him with light, unhurried steps.
Aros turned slowly, his voice gentle and refined as it reached her through the mask.
“Good day, Pawk. Do you need something?” he asked, his tone soft.
“If you work in a dark place like this, you’re going to get hurt, you know,” Pawk said with a wry little smile.
“I’m accustomed to poor visibility. I wear a mask, after all.”
Pawk chuckled. “Well… that is true.”
To her, Aros was like a second set of parents. Just hearing that low, composed voice was enough to make strength well up in her chest.
“Do you have a bit of time to talk?” Aros asked.
“I’m free right now,” Pawk answered at once. “Did something happen?”
“Something’s simply been on my mind…” He beckoned her and held up a sheet of paper in his gloved hand.
On it was a layout sketch of the planned human production plant and pharmaceutical research facility. Most likely something Fuankilo had designed before her death.
At a glance, there were no contradictions or obvious flaws. The structure looked sound.
“Are you dissatisfied with the plant or the research wing?” Pawk asked, brows knitting faintly.
“Ah. No, my apologies. This sheet is entirely unrelated.”
With a graceful, almost aristocratic motion, Aros lowered the parchment. Then he let his voice drift into a more unguarded, conversational tone.
“Pawk… You’ve been thinking about Oakley-kun, haven’t you?”
“W-What!?” Hit with a bomb right out of the gate, Pawk flailed in a panic.
“Lately you’ve been cleaning his room quite often, haven’t you?” Aros said mildly. “By any reasonable standard, that means he’s on your mind. You should accept that it’s pointless trying to hide things from me.”
“N-No! It’s not like that at all!”
“Is that so?”
“It’s just that… when he’s around, I don’t get bored. That’s all. Just a little bit. But I’m not… I’m not interested in him, I don’t think…”
“Your attempts at deflection are terrible.”
“Ugh—”
A soft chuckle echoed behind the mask.
“He really is a natural-born charmer,” Aros murmured. “As expected of an irregular.”
Out of Pawk’s sight, he held up a hand and began folding down fingers one by one. One for Joanne, one for Stella, one for Pawk, and, on a whim, one last finger for himself.
Out of the seven executives the Aros Temple Cult could boast, four were completely taken with this single man.
He could not entirely hide the strange, swelling emotion that realization stirred in him.
He didn’t know why a mass-produced human, someone who should have been obedient and devoid of quirks, had produced a specimen as anomalous as Oakley.
But as long as the boy’s existence was bringing the organization a net benefit, the only wise course was to watch and wait.
“I have no intention of interfering in matters of romance,” Aros continued, tone almost playfully benign. “Relationships within the organization are quite welcome.”
“It’s not like that!” Pawk yelped.
“Oh?”
“And besides, he already has Joanne, doesn’t he?”
“If Joanne weren’t in the picture, would that make things easier for you?”
“Enough! You’re being annoying! Are you just bullying me for fun, Aros-sama!?”
He laughed elegantly, utterly amused.
In the old days, I was rather popular myself, he mused privately.
Then his posture shifted, and the air around them tightened as he returned to business.
“Now then,” he continued. “It’s already been several months since the battles of Metasim and Daskel. The Kenneth Orthodoxy is surely making steady preparations for reclaiming Celestia and for the complete destruction of our cult.”
“Any rash move on their part would only corner them further. It’s no wonder they’re hesitant.”
“I, however, want to know the enemy’s movements as soon as possible. That is why I value your abilities, Pawk.”
In this holy war, the decisive factor wasn’t the raw number of believers each side had. It was how many executives they could put on the board.
Right now, the balance stood at seven to six. The cult had stolen Celestia through brainwashing but lost Fuankilo in the process. Even so, the Aros Temple Cult still held a numerical advantage among their top brass.
“Has there been any activity from the Kenneth Orthodoxy? No matter how small. Anything at all.”
“That’s just it. Nothing,” Pawk replied with a frustrated shrug. “Every spy we’ve planted, every corpse puppet we’ve set sneaking around, not a single noteworthy report. It looks like their executives are desperately searching for some way to recover Celestia, who’s under our control… but they haven’t found it yet.”
Celestia had been missing for months. Unsurprisingly, the faithful were restless. Rumors were spreading that she might have died in the destruction of Daskel.
For the Orthodoxy’s leadership, admitting that one of the “Seven Chosen” had been brainwashed was unthinkable.
Officially, Celestia was away on an extended expedition, out in the wilds, subjugating magical beasts for the glory of God.
Just as Aros had predicted, the Kenneth Orthodoxy was being forced to spend time and effort merely calming its flock. Stir the people’s fear, rob them of peace of mind, and the nation’s strength would wither on its own. As side effects went, it was a beautiful one.
With their advantage steadily hardening into certainty, Aros finally gave voice to the hazy plan that had been forming in the back of his mind.
“Soon, we will send several executive bombs into the Holy City of Sasfect.”
The greatest metropolis of the Kenneth Orthodoxy, Sasfect. Aros’s proposal was to smuggle in followers stuffed with pieces of the cult’s executives.
Pawk swallowed, throat bobbing. For the first time, she felt the day of their grand ambition draw near.
With a flick of his hand, Aros conjured a three-dimensional map of Sasfect in midair, sculpted from shadow. Then he began setting down black chess-like pieces across its streets.
His intention was simple. The Mobile Fortress Plan would deliver the cult’s executives into the capital, and from there, they would steal the Sacred Relic that slept within the Phoenix Temple.
One by one, shadow-pieces shaped like their various executives dropped into position atop the floating city.
Outside the walls, Pawk. In the east, Joanne. In the west, Shadik. In the north, Stella. In the south, Executive Number Two.
And at the very center, Aros placed two final pieces, Celestia and himself, side by side.
Pawk let out a low whistle. So, while everyone’s running wild on every front, he’s planning to “borrow” the holy relic at the very heart of the Holy City…
Anyone could carry a fragment of an executive’s flesh. Of course, they’d assign the task to someone competent, but odds were that it would fall to an officer candidate or someone with power just shy of that rank to serve as courier.
Here, Pawk finally voiced the obvious question.
“Even if we manage to infiltrate the Holy City, getting inside the Phoenix Temple itself is impossible.”
The Phoenix Temple was eternally wrapped in the sacred flames of Saren Deputy.
Passed down from one supreme hierarch to the next, honed razor-sharp through an age of conflict, the phoenix’s power possessed a terrifying trait: it reduced the tainted souls of heretics to ash, down to the very last cell. That absolute annihilation had served as a powerful deterrent; because of it, Aros had never been able to lay a hand on the Phoenix Temple.
In the end, even if you attacked Sasfect, it would amount to little more than harassment. Only the executives of the Orthodoxy could even set foot inside the temple.
“Ah.” Pawk suddenly gasped as the thought struck her.
If they had a brainwashed Celestia, then there was no problem at all, was there?
That was the true core of the provisional operation titled Assault on the Holy City of Sasfect.
Celestia was still receiving magical power from the god of the Kenneth Orthodoxy.
In other words, they had only overwritten her thought patterns. She was, in the system’s eyes, still a devout orthodox believer. Saren Deputy’s flame wouldn’t register as deadly toxin to her.
So they captured Celestia alive with the Phoenix Temple already in mind…!? What incredible foresight. I am humbled…
For Orthodoxy believers, the flames shrouding the temple behaved just like ordinary fire. To pierce the temple’s barrier, Celestia was absolutely indispensable.
“How about it? You’re looking forward to this, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I can hardly wait!” Her chest wouldn’t stop thrumming with excitement. Pawk’s dream was to help bring Aros’s grand ambition to fruition—and in doing so, finally avenge the Terrace people.
The three-dimensional map of the Holy City Sasfect floating in midair was swallowed by shadow.
They were on the verge of launching an operation far greater in scale than Metasim or Daskel. Pawk pictured Aros’s magic swallowing the world whole, and a wide, unrestrained grin split her face.