Chapter 100

Legacy of the Living

“The name was ‘Kurbanoy.’ Are you familiar with it?”

Mulihi pondered for a moment, then shook his head.

“I’ve never heard it before.”

“If even you do not know it, then it may have been an alias.”

Or perhaps the claim of being a dragon itself had been false, Archbishop Giacomo muttered to himself. Since he had not seen its true form, it was entirely possible that an ordinary person had merely claimed to be a dragon.

“It would be a lie with no need for it, so for now let us assume it is real. More importantly, the issue is why a dragon would be there. From your perspective, how did they seem to relate to one another?”

“They seemed quite close. That person… stayed constantly by Lady Kiara’s side.”

Giacomo said that during their stay at the temple, he had never once seen the supposed dragon and Hestio’s descendant apart. He added that they felt almost like father and daughter.

Roberta wondered inwardly if that might be a misunderstanding. As far as she knew, dragons were a race far removed from anything like parental affection. A race incapable of even empathizing with humans—could such beings truly grow attached to a human girl?

“Giacomo, how much do you know about dragons?”
“Not very much. I have never seen one in its true form.”

“That would be expected. Only a very small number of them remain today.”

Ulrich let out a quiet hum and stroked his chin.

“I believe I know all of them. I wouldn’t say we are close, but close enough to visit casually and exchange a few words. And from what I know, they are not the kind to involve themselves deeply in worldly affairs. They merely pass the time, waiting for the end.”

“Then… do you believe the claim of it being a dragon was also meant to deceive me?”

Ulrich turned slightly, saying, “Hard to say.”

“Roberta, what do you think?”

Startled by the sudden question, Roberta hesitated before answering.

“…Could there not be other possibilities? For example, a dragon unknown to you, Lord Ulrich.”

Giacomo shot her a sharp glance, as if questioning how such a thing could be possible.

Ulrich, on the other hand, gestured for her to continue.

“Even if there are few dragons, there could be some you haven’t seen for hundreds of years. If one of them had offspring, wouldn’t it be natural that you wouldn’t know? It’s not as if they are required to report such things.”

Perhaps it was because he had lived too long, but Ulrich was rather laid-back. While others would grow worried if they hadn’t heard from someone in over a year, he only checked in on acquaintances once every few centuries.

Even his claim of knowing all dragons shouldn’t be taken at face value. Since he hadn’t said when he last saw them, it wouldn’t be surprising if he visited one only to find a lizard turned to bones in a cave.

“I think the same.”

As if reading her thoughts, Ulrich gave a bitter smile and nodded.

“Dragons are arrogant. And they possess power worthy of that arrogance. That is why, in ancient texts, whenever dragons are mentioned, the word ‘violent’ follows. But why do you think they remain quiet today?”

“Is it not because there are so few of them left?”

Giacomo answered.

“The ones that remain have learned through experience—that a violent dragon is merely hunted down. So the ones I know restrain themselves, wary of causing trouble.”

Kurbanoy was the opposite.

It had inserted itself into a conflict between the two great powers that formed the foundation of the Third Age of humanity—and had even become a central figure in the chaos. If it truly feared being hunted, it would never have acted that way.

“Kurbanoy’s objective is…”
“I do not know.”

With that, Ulrich turned and descended the stairs.

After staring blankly at his retreating figure, Giacomo and the others carefully rose and followed.

“It may simply wish to indulge its desires freely, or perhaps it has developed feelings for that child, Kiara. That is something I would rather ask you. Among us, you are the only one who met them directly, are you not, Giacomo?”

As he slowly walked through the relic vault, Ulrich examined the display cases.

“I heard that several other races were involved as well. When I was surprised at seeing Kurbanoy, they told me I shouldn’t be so startled, as there were many other non-human races present.”

Ulrich simply replied, “I see,” and fell silent.

Then Beatrice spoke up.

“Could it be because of non-deification? It feels like there are particularly many non-human races involved.”

Non-deification, as the name suggests, originated from a sect that does not deify Hestio.

Humans, who have no direct creator, feel little resistance in treating Hestio as a god. But what about other races? Those with a clear creator are more inclined toward non-deification. To them, placing a mere human on the same level as their creator would seem absurd.

“I’m not sure. They don’t seem particularly fond of the name ‘non-deification.’”

“Well… it is a derogatory term used to label them as heretics.”

Scratching his head as if recalling something, Giacomo frowned.

“I don’t know. More than being called heretics, it felt like the name itself didn’t suit them. When I asked if I needed to follow their doctrine, they said there was no need. They said opposing Kormilius was what mattered more.”

“That’s interesting. The Holy Church has existed for nearly two thousand years, and they’ve been hunted all that time. I would have expected them to be far more obsessive.”

“Time may have changed them.”

Ulrich said this as he set down a relic shaped like an arrowhead.

“Changed? Their purpose?”

“I do not know everything. I have met only a few of those you call non-deification followers. Most of the time, I had to seek them out, as they tended to hide from me.”

Beatrice tilted her head.

“You mentioned earlier that nearly two thousand years have passed since the establishment of the Holy Church. How could they have survived for such a long time, enduring Kormilius’s persecution?”

The inquisitor and the archbishop both widened their eyes in disbelief.

“That means…”

Their half-open mouths failed to finish the sentence.

It was only natural—what he implied was that the very being they believed in had been protecting those deemed heretics.

“…Why would you do such a thing?”

“Think about why the Holy Church was established in the first place.”

When the two clergymen failed to respond, Ulrich turned his gaze to Roberta.

Why is it always me at times like this? she thought, but she still spoke.

“…Because of chaos. To stabilize the turmoil that came after the fall of the Isturia Empire.”

“More precisely, because of the evil gods. When the empire collapsed, their followers surged.”

The reason was obvious.

Because the world had fallen into chaos.

In a world where order has taken root, having one’s name inscribed in the register of evil gods is nothing more than a curse. One’s form changes, one’s nature changes, and one becomes a monster unable to blend into society.

But in a world where social order has collapsed, there are few who can perform proper sacraments, and many who seek the blessings of evil gods—even if it means becoming beasts in both body and mind.

As the number of servants of evil gods increases through this tendency, chaos only deepens. And as chaos grows, so too do their followers, creating a vicious cycle.

“Once religious belief takes root in the heart, it is difficult to uproot. Even in a stable society, few people live by reason alone—and our world is filled with the traces of gods, is it not?”

Back then, it was chaos itself.

“We take it for granted because the age of humanity has continued three times, but nothing is truly guaranteed. Who can say whether chaos will last a few years or several centuries? If, during that time, worship of Kunkan, Takna, or Galpa had become the norm, then the human race would have vanished.”

Roberta recalled those who had received the blessing of the evil god Kunkan.

What had been the result of having one’s name inscribed in the register of an evil god, even unintentionally?

Not only their appearance, but even their nature had begun to turn into that of beasts. Because evil gods pursue transformation.

“So you intervened.”

“The children of Kormilius came to me and said this: ‘Only the orthodox faith can suppress heresy. If you grant us a few promises, our lineage will restore and uphold order in your stead.’”

What followed was exactly as Roberta knew.

The Kormilius lineage supported the Jokuster royal house, ushering in the Third Age of humanity. They convened a council and established the Holy Church. The chaos subsided. A long period of stability followed.

“The responsibility also lies with me. Those who did not believe in Hestio as a god were driven out by the children I chose, so I sought to gather and protect them.”

What came after that was also as Roberta knew.

Ulrich returned the relic to its display and let out a quiet sigh.

“Now, so much time has passed that few remember the beginning. And even if they do, it holds little meaning. Whether Hestio is a god or a human is no longer worth debating, nor does it matter what promises were made.”

One of the promises Kormilius made with Ulrich must have been to uphold order in his place.

Even without him saying it, Roberta understood.

If he had truly stepped in himself, there was no way he couldn’t have quelled the chaos. The reason he didn’t was because Kormilius had taken that role.

But nothing lasts forever.

Though it had endured many rises and falls, recovering each time, faith had turned into blind devotion, and desire had grown stronger than reason. Over time, their descendants only sought to cling to what they possessed.

The proof of that was the imperial crown.

Though they had once ascended in place of turning the world into a model garden, now they wished for him to take the throne to satisfy their own desires.

“Is that why you are going to the Pantheon?”

Giacomo asked.

“Revoking excommunication alone will not resolve the chaos. Even if non-deification is suppressed, it will not end there. Before long, chaos will arise again for a different reason—because the root cause lies elsewhere. That cause must be addressed. Just as you wished, Giacomo.”

A heavy silence fell over the vault, as if cold water had been poured over it.

***

Roberta stared down at her teacup.

It was still early afternoon—too early for dinner—yet she sat at the table.

Or rather, she had been made to sit.

Beatrice had dragged her here.

This was after Mulihi had finished speaking and decided to stay one night at the fortress. While he inspected the relics in the vault, Roberta had gone around the stronghold examining the soldiers. There hadn’t been a major battle, but she was concerned about those who had been beaten by Ulrich.

Then Beatrice had strode up to her and pulled her away. When Roberta asked why, she simply replied, “There’s something important I need to say.”

When she was led into the room, Giacomo was already seated there. His expression wasn’t good. It seemed he, too, had been dragged in against his will.

“You’re late.”

The moment she sat down, the archbishop snapped irritably at the inquisitor.

“I just stepped out.”

Beatrice shot back immediately, unwilling to yield even a word.

“Enough. What did you call us here for?”
“You already know. It’s about my father.”
“You’re not about to say you don’t believe it, are you?”

Beatrice raised one corner of her lips.

“That’s what I should be saying. I’ve never seen anyone change their stance as quickly as you, Your Excellency.”

Giacomo’s face flushed red in an instant, trembling with anger.

He looked ready to slam the table, so Roberta instinctively gripped her teacup with both hands.

But Giacomo merely fumed, saying nothing.

“When the evidence is clear, doubting it is nothing but foolishness.”
“Exactly. We saw something no one but my father could have done.”

Beatrice nodded.

“But that’s all we know about him. Strictly speaking, we only know that he is currently going by the name Mulihi, along with a few other aliases. Even then, we don’t truly know what he has done under those names.”
“So? You want us to put our heads together and speculate?”
“No. What would be the point of that?”
“Then?”

Beatrice turned her gaze toward Roberta.

“Let’s hear from our sister.”

Giacomo blinked, clearly not understanding.

He didn’t know that Roberta was the chief priest of Dithmarschen. To him, she was merely an ordinary priest who had briefly accompanied Mulihi, so he couldn’t grasp Beatrice’s intent.

Roberta let out a quiet sigh inwardly, staring down at her teacup.

She had expected this.

Since it was difficult to ask him directly, they had come to her instead.