The pope was heading this way, my brother and the prince close behind him. But...
“A...mandrake...” they groaned in unison, and all three of them collapsed on the spot.
It was their first rock festival ever. It must have been incredibly stimulating, for two handsome young men to lose consciousness like that.
“I didn’t even realize... I needed earplugs...” the pope lamented, “but...earplugs wouldn’t be enough... Gah!”
“They’re specially made with hair from my Casquette.”
The pope raised his head again at the mention of Casquette. He really was tough. But then he coughed up something black, like blood, choked, and bowed his head again. The black stuff dissipated into mist—perhaps it was reacting to the holy magic in the sound wave, unique to a sacred beast.
“Cas’s special magic is amazing!” On top of my head, Dia puffed out her chest cutely. Her angelic little body felt warm.
“Yeah! Mortis! Mortis! Mortis!” The captain spun once in midair and then landed, retrieving the long-awaited Lavi-brand shamisen from subspace. Skillfully plucking it with dreadlocked branches, he began to strum. To enhance the captain’s resistance to sound waves, Cas had helped craft the strings himself. It was a masterpiece, and I was deeply moved.
As the captain called out, he gave off the unique sound waves of a mandrake in peak condition. He had originally been a magical beast. A mandrake, of course—also called a mandragora, a kind of magical plant that’d often appeared in fantasy worlds like games and novels, even in my past lives. It looked like a brown, forked carrot head with dreadlocks made of branches and leaves.
We’d first met in my life before last. As Beljeanne, I had been growing a mandrake seed I’d found in front of a hut I’d built at the villa. My intent was to have it serve as a guard dog.
“Mortis! Mortis! Mortis!” Heh heh heh, the ladies were in top form too. They’d pulled out a shakuhachi, drums, wooden bells like the ones people used at shrine festivals in my past life, a transverse flute, and a koto from their subspaces, and now they were playing them freely with their fingers and vines. We’d used Lag’s shed skins and parts of the barometz to make these instruments.
It was fortunate I’d learned Japanese dance in my past life, and, thanks to a grandchild who’d played in a band, become proficient with traditional Japanese instruments.
While I’d been busy reincarnating, the captain had married an alraune, who was a sacred beast. He’d also cultivated the aptitude to become a sacred beast himself, and because both the captain and his sacred beast wife wished it, I’d formed a sacred beast contract with him in this life.
His wife had since withered and passed away of old age, but she’d left behind seeds that had sprouted into these five alraunes, who were essentially clones.
Incidentally, I recalled that in my past life I’d read that both the alraune and the mandrake—and the barometz too, actually—were nightshade plants. But was that actually true? Oh well, there was no way to verify it...
Alraunes had a shorter lifespan than other sacred beasts, but they had long used clones to maintain their sacred beast status. It was like a self-sustaining form of sacred beast succession. This succession apparently didn’t require a pact-bearer, so this was one of those facts known only to those in the know.
However, when I’d been reincarnated as Laviange and formed a contract with the captain, I’d transferred my sacred beast powers to him. So his new wives were no longer sacred beasts. The fact that these five possessed such abundant sacred attributes probably stemmed from the seeds planted by the previous generation, continuing into this one.
As for the sacred beast name, it was the captain’s wish, shared by both husband and wife, that he retain the name Drogolena.
The pope screamed and began writhing. Well, of course. It wasn’t just the captain’s voice and the unique magic power of a sacred beast. The magic power imbued with the holy attribute, united by all his wives, was also being carried on sound waves through the instruments. The barometz that the captain had created and the shed skin from Lag were also working wonderfully to amplify the purification. For a body corrupted by demonic power like the pope’s, the effect came at the cost of considerable pain.
I had to admit, without these earplugs, the sheer volume would have been unbearable for me too. They were properly fitted in Dia’s adorable little ears as well.
The sound waves and the sacred beast magic gradually grew stronger. The pope’s screams grew louder to match.
As the feathers fell out in greater and greater numbers, they were immediately purified and vanished by the sacred beasts’ sonic magic. The wings were gradually shrinking too—they’d probably recover without issue. The problem was the demonic power that had accumulated within the pope over his years as a pact-bearer. It wasn’t magic, but it shared similarities with it—like a curse. Similar yet distinct.
Perhaps because its density differed from magic power, the sonic waves from the sacred beasts could separate it from the magic power within the body.
It was a method I’d thought of after I’d contracted with the captain: something only I, and not the other sacred beasts, could do. The ultrasonic cleaner I’d used in the other world had also given me a hint... Somehow, it felt nostalgic remembering how my grandchildren’s and great-grandchildren’s reading glasses, caked with grime, had become sparkling clean through ultrasonic cleaning.
The separated, distinct demonic power was being forcibly expelled through sweat and blood, out from his pores and mouth. But because it had been absorbed over so many years, the separation process was likely to take time.
Still, it was precisely because the contract had never been finalized that this was possible at all. Had the contract been sealed, the pope’s magical energy would have transformed, becoming identical in nature to the demon’s power. That would have made separation virtually impossible.
“Such a handful, this child,” I murmured without thinking, a wry smile finding its way onto my face. Truly, no matter how old they got, they were still such a handful.
“Haa, haa, Lady Robur?” the pope panted. “Mmmph...”
And the captain was the captain. Keeping this child a secret all this time. He must have noticed I’d misunderstood the gender too. I’d have to lecture both of them later... After the demonic power was expelled from the pope’s body and the contract itself had been nullified, that was.
“Mom, will you give me my treasure?” my angel demanded suddenly. Dia’s body really did heat up when she got excited, it seemed. Yet she’d still managed to hide her form properly? She was so talented!
“Of course,” I replied telepathically. “Maybe it’s about time you learned subspace storage too.” I moved a multifaceted red magicite from my subspace storage to Dia’s hand, using it to channel my own magic while also letting it disperse. Dia had gotten quite skilled at controlling her magic too. It should be about time she had a space she could freely access herself.
“Wow! Captain! You’re so cool! Death!”
Lost in thoughts about Dia’s growth, I suddenly snapped back to reality in the wild excitement of Dia clutching the magic stone and the wives passionately cheering for their husband as they played their instruments.
I’d heard that not long ago, at the volcano on the border with the neighboring country where this magic stone had been found, the captain had held a live performance every day to commemorate the discovery of the treasure. After all, it was the captain who’d first noticed the magic stone’s existence.