IBTRFL Chapter 6

Saura scrambled to get herself upright and looked at the man standing over her.

Someone sent by the Bishop? But she had never seen this face before.

She turned it over in her mind and couldn't place him.

"This is Church property! An outsider entering without authorization, according to Church law——"

Valor cut her off, irritated.

"Ma'am. Keep it down. I said you'll wake the kid."

"……"

A killing intent so oppressive it seemed to press on her whole body. Saura closed her mouth. She had never felt anything like it before, and the thought of resisting didn't come.

Valor clicked his tongue, openly. Saura flinched and dropped her head.

A contemptible person, through and through. The kind who bends to anyone slightly stronger, and visits cruelty without limit on anyone weaker.

"Go round up the priests—no, the bastards. Tell them to assemble."

"……"

"I'll be in the Director's office. Bring them all. And for your information."

"……"

"Running would be unwise."

Valor let his sacred power radiate from him—a ferocious force that sat badly with the Remisa faith's doctrine of charity and mercy.

Under that overwhelming pressure, Saura nodded rapidly.

"Y-yes……"

Valor glanced at her and turned away.

From behind the door he could feel the children—each of them huddled in on themselves, barely breathing.

He took the old wooden stairs up. Unlike below, the upper floor was considerably well-maintained.

Valor kicked open the door marked with a small placard reading Director's Office.

"W-who are you!"

"...Hell."

The oath he'd barely been holding back came out. Valor raised a hand and dragged it down his face.

Silk sofa, a chandelier that hurt to look at, and a carpet some foreign craftsman had poured himself into—all of it incomparable to what the children had below.

The Director, who had been polishing a ceramic piece, threw down his cloth and shouted:

"Do you know who I am, to dare——"

"Do you know who I am?"

"What—what? An impudent boy barely old enough——"

Valor sighed and walked toward him.

A stupid and greedy old man, sitting in an office that wasn't even particularly grand and imagining himself a king. He didn't even need to use his sacred power.

Valor grabbed him by the collar and threw him to the floor. The old man's body hit the ground hard. He hadn't even had time to scream—and now he writhed there like an upturned insect.

"Hey. Get up."

After a long stretch of wheezing, the Director managed to lift his head. A furious voice filled the office.

"You, you—this damn fool—when the other priests get here, I won't let you——"

"Right. I sent for them. They'll be on their way."

Before he'd finished the sentence, the sound of rapid footsteps arrived and a group of people pushed through the door.

The priests who'd been summoned without explanation looked around the Director's office with blank, bewildered faces.

The Director, who had carried himself like a lord over all of them—like that. And who was this man.

The situation made no sense and they had no idea where to stand.

"You—you there——"

"Shut your mouths. Not one word until I give permission."

A killing intent swept the room. Everyone went quiet.

Saura, who had already lived through it once, stood with her mouth clamped shut, shaking.

Valor exhaled and sat down in the Director's chair. He made a face—tired—and drew something from inside his robe.

A dagger bearing the Goddess's seal, holding an enormous store of sacred power.

The priests recognized it immediately and dropped to their knees, foreheads to the floor. The Director, struggling with pain, managed to assume the posture too.

"Valor Remisa. Inspector-General of Canon Law—direct appointment of the Holy Father."

"H-how does a man of your eminence come to a humble place like——"

"You dog-bastards, what are you asking. After what you've been doing. For the love of—you couldn't treat animals this way."

The words coming out were nothing like a churchman's. No one dared object.

Papal Inspector of Canon Law. Sacred power, faith, force—a position requiring all three, without exception, carrying authority of the highest order. Not a man who could be bought for pocket change, unlike certain others.

The Director's jaw tightened. Even the Bishop's influence counted for nothing in front of this man.

And it had taken so long to amass. He couldn't let it end here. The cheap greed for gold breathed a coward's kind of courage into him.

The Director watched and cautiously opened his mouth.

"If I could just say——"

Valor glared at the Director and swept a hand filled with sacred power across the wall.

The wall tore open. What had been hidden inside it was revealed: soul stones—one after another, all of them the kind that cost a fortune.

The blood drained from the Director's face. Cold sweat started running down his creased skin like rain.

"Anything further to say in your defense?"

His voice went up.

"Priests' salaries don't buy things like that. The Goddess's servants running a slave trade? Selling the name of the Goddess Remisa?"

A vein rose in his neck. His grip closed tight—blunt nails pressing into hardened skin. Something ground together inside his clenched fist. Valor's expression twisted, ugly, and then he let his hand open and yanked roughly at his own collar.

"By authority of the Inspector, I declare: from this moment, none of you may carry the Remisa name. Investigators arriving in Solbo will examine the crimes committed here, and all involved parties—including the Bishop—will be transported to the Holy City and face the punishment that fits what they have done."

The cold verdict came down.

Rats cornered against a wall still bite the cat. The priests who had tyrannized the orphanage like petty lords could not so much as bare their teeth before real authority. Instead they cut what little bond they'd shared and turned on each other.

"I—Inspector, I have done nothing wrong. The Director ordered everything I did!"

"The same is true for me!"

"Please ask the children—I was only following orders, I was good to the children——"

"You lunatics! You were happy enough to pick up your crumbs at the time—and now you stab me in the back? Call yourselves human beings?"

The cold brown eyes filled with anger.

A fist like a blunt hammer came down on the desk. The expensive solid-oak desk cracked in two. The priests who had been bickering among themselves went very quiet.

A droplet hanging precariously from a stalactite finally let go.

The cold water tapped against a pair of firmly closed eyelids. Cold. Wet.

Kardo opened his eyes slowly.

The darkness of the cave was absolute. No light entered.

He couldn't see anything. But he knew where he was.

His bandaged hand moved to his neck. His head and body were still connected.

He knew it instinctively.

He had returned. To before he lost her.

"……Aer."

His voice settled into the dark cave, hollow.

Kardo lurched to his feet. The lukewarm, bloody liquid seeping from the wound had soaked through to his back. Terrible heat and pain were eating through his whole body.

He stood anyway, and picked up the bundle of cloth that had been lying on the cave floor.

Unwrapped it. An old, dulled sword. In spite of the battered appearance—the kind that couldn't put down a single rat—a strange energy poured off it.

Kardo took hold of the hilt. He had walked this road before. This time, he would simply be faster about it.

A pale blue-white force poured out from his body. Something like lightning, splitting the sky—the sword began to resonate with it.

The pale blue-white energy flowed along the dull blade. The way a shabby chrysalis burns off its outer shell, the sword shed the years that had rusted it.

Just a little more.

If he couldn't endure even this, he couldn't change anything.

Kardo set his teeth and pulled from his soul.

A burst of brilliance and a rush of heat swept through the cave. A terrible edge returned to the blade that had looked like scrap.

"…For now. This is where I am."

Kardo raised the sword. From the hand that held it, a measured current of energy flowed in.

The energy knew what it was for. It converged toward a single point. The wound that had covered half his back began, slowly, to close.

The missing blood was replaced. The dizziness faded.

As the spirit manifested, the body cycled through reconstruction and reinforcement. Muscle tearing. Bone snapping. Kardo walked through it with the same dry face and kept moving.

The entrance of the cave was blocked. A pile of fallen stone.

Between the gaps in the rock, rain came through, and with it the sound of rain. The first time, the rain had covered his tracks, and the cave had been sealed by the slide. That had bought him time.

Kardo swung the sword. South to north. Where the blade's arc ended, a violent force erupted outward.

Boulders heavy as oxen simply shattered. Rain drove in through the clean opening.

The ones who'd noticed the change were already moving.

Kardo moved forward without a word. Heavy rain hammered at his slight frame.

"……"

They were already surrounding him. Masked figures, every one. Short blades, iron clubs, spears—weapons worn with use.

The one who appeared to be leading stepped forward.

"Foolish."

No answer came back. The leader spoke, flat and final.

"Punish the descendant of the irredeemable."

The assassins moved before the sentence was finished.

Expression unchanged, Kardo swung his sword. The neck of the first assassin who reached him dropped cleanly.

"Impossible——"

A voice of pure shock fell through the sound of rain. Immediately a large iron club swung toward the small head.

Kardo frowned slightly and cut the arm holding the club. Then he drove his blade through the heart of the screaming man.

The assassins watching had no words.

How could this be a twelve-year-old boy. The swordsmanship, the killing without hesitation—it belonged to a battle-hardened veteran with decades behind them.

Leave him alive and it becomes a catastrophe. Kardo split the last remaining assassin at the waist. The leader drew his blade and rushed at Kardo's turned back.

One instant. Stepping back, Kardo drove his sword into the charging man's abdomen.

The assassin's body convulsed, like a fish skewered through a vital point. Without interest, Kardo pulled the blade free—the body slid down.

"A crimi—…a criminal's de—…scend—…"

The leader lay on the ground, scrabbling. Kardo pressed his sword flat against the man's throat.

The last breath went out. Nothing moved in the vicinity. Cold rain fell on the red, washing it away without interest.

Kardo raised his face to the sky.

He remembered with perfect clarity the moment he lost her.

It was all right. This time no one would be able to stand in their way.

In rain that could bring down the world, a pair of blue eyes flashed.