“Your painful past is better off forgotten. Entrust yourself to me, and I shall free you from your suffering.”
Cion had always hated taking off her hood in front of anyone else, but now the saint’s pale fingertips gently pushed it aside. She stroked her fingers softly and smoothly along Cion’s exposed cheek as though examining her anew.
“You really do have quite an adorable face.”
I stared helplessly at the two of them. “How? When?”
When I’d walked in here, Cion had been her regular self. I hadn’t felt any sign at all that she was being controlled, so how...?
“If you cherish her so dearly, then you should never have left her side.”
I let out a frustrated hiss of breath.
Had she done it today, while I’d been away from my guard duties? No, maybe she’d been setting it up from the very beginning. Ever since the day we’d first met her, this woman had been abnormally touchy-feely. Physical contact... Or maybe even just the tones of those bells...
“Damn it!”
Why? Why hadn’t I realized sooner? I knew she could manipulate memories; why hadn’t I considered the possibility that she could control our very thoughts?
“What matters now isn’t what you could have done, but what I’ll do with you... Don’t you think?”
“Seriously—!”
I didn’t know what sort of state Cion was in right now, but I couldn’t see the faintest trace of vitality in her eyes. Was this brainwashing a temporary phenomenon, or the product of having her memories tampered with? Either way, this woman was absurdly dangerous. Now I finally understood why Father Carol had chosen death.
“Why settle for being a saint? Why not call yourself a queen?” I asked bitterly. “With that kind of power, you could easily rule the world if you wished to!”
“No, I couldn’t. That is why I stand before you now.”
As she smiled softly, motes of light rose into the air all around her.
“Gods, I beseech you,” she prayed. “Please, bestow your blessings upon this frail body. Please, grant me a miracle, that I might rise again.”
All of the light that had gathered around the saint—all of the aether produced through prayer—began to shift back into its original form. The points of light fused and compressed together; their soft white glow, with its pretense of holiness, was replaced by the crimson glare of mana flowing into her body.
My legs shook and faltered, refusing to let me charge at her. All I could do was stand and watch amid the red-lit world. There was a flash of light, and the rushing pulse of an unknowable monster made the candle flames gutter.
“There are far, far too many things in this world that are better left unseen...”
The saint’s body was filled with the aether of the grand cathedral—mana extracted from countless worshippers in prayer. She removed her blindfold and smiled at me; her glowing red eyes overflowed with tears.
“I wish to save you all—to protect you from this terrible world.”
A strangled laugh escaped my throat. Where does a dictator get off acting like a tragic heroine? How self-centered can you get? Comebacks flashed through my mind one after another. The shaking of my legs had spread to my entire body, though, and I couldn’t get the words out.
“So many face persecution for the circumstances of their birth. So many fall victim to tragedies out of cruel happenstance. So many become trapped in cycles of hatred and vengeance. The devil-touched children are far from alone in this. This girl, who took up the heavy mantle of the Hero on her tender shoulders; and you, who chose to live chained to the Gods, obediently taking the lives of innocents—all of you have a right to live in happiness, do you not?”
The crimson-eyed witch addressed me with tearstained cheeks.
“Throw away your past. Forget the sins that burden you, and set forth anew on the life you ought to have lived!”
The all-consuming red glow of her gaze was focused intently on me.
“Hey, Gods? I really hate you,” I groaned.
My body was gripped by an overwhelming terror. It was the same sensation I’d felt when we’d fought General Heavenfang—the primal fear of an animal in the face of a far more powerful predator.
“So you want me to just forget all my painful memories like those kids at the orphanage did? Give up my past and start over?”
“It’s all right,” she replied. “You’ve all suffered more than enough already. What need have you to put yourself in further danger?”
The saint’s words were infuriatingly sincere.
“I alone shall bear the weight of all your sins. So please, take my hand...”
Her outstretched hand, offered without any hesitation, held not a trace of malice. She really meant all of it. This woman genuinely wanted to take on everyone’s sins and use her brainwashing to build a world free of suffering—a world with no more winners or losers. A utopia.
“But the world you’re making would just be a dystopia ruled by a twisted tyrant!”
I took a deep breath and activated my Physical Boost skill, with my Spec Boost orison stacked on top this time. As I brandished my knife, I began incanting a formula from scratch, preparing to cast my Overspec spell.
“Please, won’t you try to understand?” she asked.
“A saint would know better. But you’re nothing but a dominatrix!”
She sighed. “You truly do sadden me.”
“Wh—”
A rush of wind.
“We’ve been through this, dammit!”
All that saved me was a split-second reflex and the weight of experience. I didn’t see her coming; I didn’t even feel her presence. My gut just told me where she’d approach from, and I swung my knife in time to block her blade. The loud clash of metal rang out through the cathedral as she stared at me, silent and impassive.
“The least you could do...” I gritted out, “...is try and act a little surprised, Cion!”
Still expressionless, the Hero continued her advance, changing up her tactics and launching one attack after another from my blind spots. As I desperately parried and dodged her strikes by a hair’s breadth, I tried to come up with a way to break through, but—
“Seriously, this girl—!”
—she was just too fast and too strong. Every time I tried to seize the initiative, I ended up on the back foot anyway. I could see plainly that if I faltered for even an instant, I’d be carved up and left to die. I focused all of my thoughts and my senses on Cion, letting my instincts guide me as I swung my knife and twisted my body to barely avoid a deadly strike.
“Please think about this rationally, Sister. Against the Hero who vanquished the Demon Lord, what hope could a mere bride of the Church possibly—”
“I know that!” I shouted back.
I activated a painstakingly assembled spell to create countless stone walls, blocking Cion’s vision as I went after the caster: the saint herself. But—
“Gah!”
—I immediately sensed death right behind me. As I twisted around, her blade grazed my cheek, and—
“Agh! Wha—?”
—from the edge of my vision, Cion’s flattened hand stabbed through my side.
The blow sent me flying and left me completely disoriented. Sprawled amid a scattered row of pews, I groaned and coughed up blood, but I just barely managed to sit myself back up.
“S— Secret Revive...”