Chapter 163
Yan recalled the moment, long ago now, when he had first opened his eyes in the temple of the western desert. He had been young then, not yet familiar with a difficult word like “conviction.”
Conviction was an intangible product that a person came to realize on their own, through the process of growing up—that is, through the process of socialization one undergoes passing through childhood and into adolescence.
In other words, one could only acquire something called conviction by going through a normal process of socialization.
But he had opened his eyes in a temple, and had grown up solely within its walls.
In that place, where everyone worshipped the same priesthood, the same religion, Yan had never been able to undergo a normal process of socialization.
He had become the son of god from the moment of his birth, remained the son of god as he grew, and remained the son of god even after he’d fully matured.
He had always existed as the son of god. He had no other reason for existing beyond that.
And so he had always worshipped god, and yearned desperately for the second coming of a god he had never once laid eyes on. Yes. That was how things had been.
-So you’re the one they call Yan.
Until he met the High Priestess, Elise, that is.
With her long, luscious silver hair flowing down, and light green eyes glinting like peridot gemstones, she took Yan’s hand and spoke.
-They say you survived, unyielding, right in the middle of the desert. Truly remarkable.
Yan had been a child rescued from the desert. Because of that, he had never known who his parents were, and perhaps that was precisely why he had been so moved by the idea that god alone was his father and mother.
In any case, that was how Yan had grown up. And he had been fine, growing up that way.
But,
-Are you alright, though?
Elise, it seemed, thought differently from Yan.
She clasped Yan’s two hands together, pressed them to her forehead, and offered a prayer in a gentle voice—a prayer wishing that Yan would no longer remain confined, that he would step out into a wider world and come to know far greater happiness.
Yan found himself puzzled by this. A wider world? Greater happiness? This place was plenty wide enough already, and he was already plenty happy here—so why?
So he believes he asked her something along those lines. High Priestess. What do you mean by happiness and a world beyond this one?
Elise answered.
-Being able to live even without a god.
-That is happiness, and that is the right kind of world.
Not yet having come of age, and having lived his whole life worshipping nothing but god, Yan naturally failed to understand what those words meant, and so, after days of turning it over in his mind, he went to seek Elise out for an answer.
But Elise was gone.
He was told she had left the temple.
-Faithless woman! To think god’s love was bestowed upon such a woman! Ah, that faithless woman deserves to be torn apart for it!
Watching all the priests who had once so devotedly revered Elise now turn against her completely, Yan wondered whether he too should condemn her the same way, but strangely, he found he had no wish to.
A wider world, and greater happiness.
Elise had been the only one to ever bestow such a blessing upon him.
And so Yan quietly prayed for Elise’s sake, and when he later heard she had married a hero, he silently offered his blessing in his heart, even then.
It was around that time.
One day, the Emperor came.
He declared himself the being closest to god. As he said this, he spread a massive pair of wings behind him, and most of the priests prostrated themselves before those wings, worshipping the largest fragment of god, the gold dragon.
But a few priests did not, holding the view that a dragon was merely a fragment, and could never serve as a substitute for god.
Yan too had held the latter position. To him, god was a conviction that no longer existed in this world, and that dragon was nothing more than a creature borrowing god’s name for its own purposes.
Yes.
It was with that conviction that Yan had voiced his opposition.
But their opinion had been an extreme minority, and so it was naturally buried, leaving them no choice but to fall in line with the majority. That day marked the beginning of hell itself.
-Aaargh! Aaargh! P-please, spare me!
-Ah, aaargh!
Yan still remembered it.
Locked away in a dark, musty dungeon, injected with strange blood, his limbs severed, his eyes gouged out, his tongue cut away—every single moment of it.
Why?
Yan couldn’t understand it.
Why did he have to suffer this way? Why?
It was then that the Emperor spoke.
-You will become creatures that inherit the power of god.
-Shouldn’t you consider that an honor?
He wanted to scream that this was madness, but with his tongue already cut and his eyes already gouged out, he could not. And so Yan and his companions suffered for a long, long time, and the price of that suffering was simply this: their bodies rotted and decayed. Nothing more.
“That’s how I became a human being who was, in truth, no longer quite human.”
Yan said, wrapping a hand around his decaying arm, his expression bitter. By that point, Daphne and most of the others in the room had fallen silent, watching him.
In truth, part of it was that no one quite knew what to say, or how to say it, so no one added anything further. Everyone glanced at one another, trying to think of some way to begin the conversation again.
It was then.
“So then,”
Daphne spoke up.
“That Emperor bastard implanted his own blood, or skin, or something like that, into all of you, and just watched what happened?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Daphne’s brow furrowed.
“There must have been some reason he did that. Whether you were meant to be creatures or whatever else, there had to be some reason he created you.”
“War.”
Yan answered as though it were self-evident.
“He wanted to rule. Over everyone.”
Ah.
Daphne pressed a hand to her forehead and let out a sigh.
“What in the world is wrong with these people, one after another…”
Hadn’t the black mages been the exact same? Spouting nonsense about world domination and whatnot. Killing people, doing all sorts of twisted things.
What exactly was so great about conquering the world, anyway?
Daphne simply couldn’t wrap her head around it.
As Daphne’s train of thought continued, Yan spoke up again.
“It was Lady Lani who saved me from all that.”
Yan continued.
“Once Lady Lani learned of our suffering, she drove out the Emperor and saved the temple.”
Daphne’s eyes narrowed.
Now she finally understood why the wraiths were so loyal to Lani. If they had all suffered such brutal torture at the Emperor’s hands, then of course Lani, who had saved them, would seem remarkable, and deserving of deep gratitude. Daphne opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, lost in thought.
“That’s why Lady Lani and the temple are gathering the sacred relics. To keep the Emperor from being able to pull any more tricks.”
“And what happens if the Emperor gathers the sacred relics?”
“He’ll try to become a god.”
At Yan’s answer, a soft laugh came from somewhere behind them. It was Shio.
“Well, isn’t this something. Funny, really.”
Shio said, shrugging his shoulders.
“I thought Lani was the villain, but to these people, she’s the hero.”
“…”
“I thought the Emperor was the hero, but to these people, he’s the villain.”
“…”
“What exactly is the difference between good and evil, anyway? Thinking about it this way, it’s honestly rather funny.”
He laughed for quite a while as he said this, and Daphne only grew more confused.
Because even she herself had no idea how to properly define that conviction called good and evil—one that coul
dn’t be so neatly divided in two.
“…”
And so everyone in the room fell silent,
and because of that, none of them noticed Heros, listening in intently from just outside.
