GRP Chapter 20

Even after that, Samthyeon chose only the things Mariaeks considered useless and asked about them. Starting from the name, age, and what her mother and father did for a living that he had already covered, through to where her residence was, and how much property she possessed. Of course, he hadn't used exactly the words 'residence' or 'property,' but the meaning contained was just the same.

'Something... seems a bit off.'

This was less like research and more like, something, something—

"What does Lady Mariaeks think of our Anir?"

Strange as it already was, it had now started to become properly strange. Mariaeks had several volumes of popular novels on her bookshelves. In those books, when a man came seeking to marry a woman, the woman's parents would ask him exactly this question. What do you think of our daughter? What the father wanted to hear was perfectly clear. She is the other half of my soul. I love her with my life. She is my life, my everything, and my meaning. Heartfelt expressions of love in the terms that popular novels so commonly employed—that would have been all that was needed.

But the answer Samthyeon wanted to hear probably wasn't anything like 'the other half of my soul.' Mariaeks deliberated carefully on what answer might successfully iron out his chin-crinkles.

"Rankling."

The little folds beneath Samthyeon's lip deepened further. It didn't seem to be the answer he'd wanted. Still unable to grasp the question's intent, Mariaeks continued to be only confused.

"The moment you saw the Anir... did you not feel anything—a resonance of the soul, something of that nature?"

The shock reverberated through her head as if she had been struck hard. So the answer he actually wanted was 'the other half of my soul'?

"Did your heart pound fiercely?"

Her heart had pounded, yes. Could anyone be calm when a predator was sitting in a room they thought was empty? What's more, he had even guided her hand to plunge a dagger into his own chest. Not having a fiercely pounding heart would have been the strange thing. Seeing her vacant eyes as she recalled the past, Samthyeon grasped the situation roughly.

"I understand. Then let us move to the next question. Do you know the ancient gods of the continent, excluding Heimdrykze?"

"Ancient gods?"

At last, a question that actually felt like research. Mariaeks searched through her memory. The result came quickly. Having spent her whole life in Heimdrykze, she had no way of knowing the continent's ancient gods. Before she could answer, Samthyeon added further explanation.

"There are currently nine ancient gods on the continent. Among them, I'm particularly curious whether you have any connection to the Mother Tree, the sea god of Lanna Island, and the ancient god of the Chura Plains."

"No. I have never met the gods outside."

"Have you never even heard their names?"

Mariaeks shook her head. Samthyeon asked again.

"Perhaps the names are different—let me try expressing this more intuitively. A great tree. A glittering jellyfish god. A massive land turtle god?"

A great tree? A jellyfish god? A land turtle god? She felt as if she had heard of them somewhere—no, as if she had seen them. Mariaeks wracked her memory at the sudden, fleeting sense of familiarity. But nothing came sharply to mind. She could, however, recall information to the effect that such beings existed on the continent.

"I seem to have heard that such gods exist."

"Who did you hear that from?"

Mariaeks's mouth opened and closed again, meaninglessly. Samthyeon watched her carefully. It was a question he had thought ordinary enough, but just as when she had lied earlier, something like discomfiture showed through.

"...From a friend."

A friend, a friend... Coming from a god's mouth, it was a word that sounded oddly clumsy. Samthyeon's eyes sharpened.

"How did this friend come to know information about the ancient gods?"

"My friend loved travel very much and wandered throughout the continent here and there. Each time she returned to Heimdrykze, she would tell me about the outside—I seem to have heard it then, a few times."

"I see."

Samthyeon maintained his composure and filed Mariaeks's words one by one.

'What is strange...'

The more powerful a god, the less they tended to stray far from the territory where they were born. In Heimdrykze's case, this tendency was even more pronounced. It wasn't that Mariaeks was unusual for having lived only in her divine domain—that was simply what ordinary gods did, all of them living within their own territories.

Yet a god who loved wandering the continent and returned to Heimdrykze only 'occasionally'? Such a god wasn't entirely without precedent, but the feeling it left was peculiar. Furthermore, if a Heimdrykze god had been moving around in plain sight, there should be some trace of it in the continent's history—the complete absence of any such sign meant the god was either too weak to leave an impact, or remarkably gentle. Considering Heimdrykze's general character, that quality also seemed somehow misaligned.

"Do you remember what was said about the ancient gods?"

"Seen at night they sparkle and are pretty...? Ah—she said it gets bigger every time you see it, and that the shell pattern grows more elaborate so it's worth admiring."

It seemed somewhat beneath the dignity of a conversation between gods. Let us destroy those insignificant humans. Whence comes the world's salvation?— apparently that kind of dialogue existed only in the human imagination.

"What is the name of this friend?"

Samthyeon's question brought back, after a long absence, someone Mariaeks had been slowly forgetting. A body small for a Heimdrykze god. Divine power nearly as weak as Mariaeks's own. And features that were, beyond all that, unlovely.

Unlike Mariaeks, who grew stronger with each passing year in Heimdrykze, she grew weaker each time she returned from her travels on the continent—like snow held tight in the palm, melting away gradually. In the land of gods where only the strong survived, her existence had been just as out of place as Mariaeks's own.

Perhaps that was why. Excluding Mariaeks, there was only one god who ever called her name. The master of Heimdrykze. The lord of winter. Mariaeks's god. He stroked her cracked, peeling skin and whispered.

'My great god. My sun, my soul. O, my eternity.'

Each time she recalled that sweet voice, her mind moved slowly—as if her brain and heart had frozen solid, thoughts grinding through cold. A chill spread from somewhere deep in her chest. Her body trembled with it.

In the end, Mariaeks did not answer.

"I understand. That isn't what matters."

Samthyeon chose to shift the question, if only to clear the air.

"I'm terribly curious about what Lady Mariaeks's power is."

After rubbing the back of her hand for a moment, she answered quietly.

"I'm not particularly strong."

He already knew this. Her divine power didn't even reach the level of Garthe, let alone that of some of the fortress's other heroes. If Heimdrykze's gods were a mountain range, she was a single snow crystal.

"To be able to witness the power of a great god—is that not itself a great honor?"

Even the coaxing words couldn't quite make Mariaeks's discomfort fully disappear.

After some time, she placed both hands on her knees. A fragrant, clear divine energy rose gently. It was a clean energy unlike anything felt from anyone or anything. Amid Samthyeon's astonished gaze, Mariaeks slowly opened the hands she had been pressing together. A single white flower was just then blooming in her palms. The unfurling petals breathed out. Mariaeks, eyes averted in a practiced, cool disdain, set the bloomed flower gently down on the table.

"Insane... That's quite a magnificent ability."

Mariaeks wasn't sure whether Samthyeon had said insane or quite.

"You must be tired."

Suddenly?

"I'm not tired."

She hadn't been up long—what reason would there be for fatigue? If the research finished quickly it would benefit both of them, so she had every intention of helping as fully as possible. But the other party was a man who did not listen to what others said.

"Thank you for your cooperation. I'll ask again tomorrow."

Her answer went in one ear and out the other. As she sat there unable to follow the sudden shift, Samthyeon let out an impatient sigh.

"The great god of Heimdrykze wouldn't know, of course. Even insignificant humans need time alone sometimes."

Is that so... Mariaeks rose reluctantly and looked down at him.

"Well then—wouldn't that human also need time alone."

Her desire to have a separate room from Garthe slipped out bluntly. She had only said 'that human,' but Samthyeon seemed to understand immediately who she meant. Judging by the sigh he let out again.

"The complex, mysterious heart that wants distance from others yet also wants to draw close—that is precisely the dilemma from which insignificant humans can never escape. The great god of Heimdrykze wouldn't know, of course."

By this point, Mariaeks had realized Samthyeon was simply talking nonsense. That he was trying to gloss over everything with 'the great god of Heimdrykze wouldn't understand insignificant humans.' Asking again didn't seem likely to produce a proper answer. Mariaeks gave up and left the room.

Click. The moment the door closed, Samthyeon hurried back to the table. A flower sat there, exuding a fresh, clear fragrance. He cupped it carefully with both hands.

The instant the soft texture of the petals touched him, Samthyeon shuddered. It was not an illusion. His mouth, which had been opening and closing as if drawing breath, released a single word.

"God above."

The ancient gods—born from the Mother God's creative power at the beginning of all things—had imperfectly inherited the creator god's ability. The power to cut a piece from one's own body and create a child god, or to allow a new being to derive from one's body that would otherwise become meaningless in death—these powers had their origins in the Mother's creative ability.

But not one of those ancient gods could create a living thing from empty space, without any cost whatsoever. Even for the birth of the greatest god, there always had to be a matrix from which that body could come into being.

A single flower might appear insignificant. But this was creation in the full sense of the word.

The true domain of divinity.