Sorcerous Stabber Orphen: The Wayward Journey Volume 20 E-Book

Yoshinobu Akita

• Herausgeber: J-Novel Club
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Serie: Sorcerous Stabber Orphen: The Wayward Journey
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 280

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

The Dragon Sanctuary stands beset from all sides. As the battle between Orphen, the Apostles, and the dragons rages outside, Leticia and Azalie act from within, aiding Colgon’s bid for the Second World-Seeing Tower. Yet time is running out...

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Cover

Color Illustrations

Chapter VII: Trouble and What Is Not Trouble

Chapter VIII: Infiltration and What Is Not Infiltration

Chapter IX: Pettiness and What Is Not Pettiness

Chapter X: Resolution and What Is Not Resolution

Chapter XI: Enmity and What Is Not Enmity

Chapter XII: Salvation and What Is Not Salvation

Epilogue

Afterword

About J-Novel Club

Copyright

Landmarks

Color Illustrations

Table of Contents

Chapter VII: Trouble and What Is Not Trouble

The troop got moving without waiting for daybreak.

They marched through the dark wasteland, feeling only the premonition of sunrise. Progress was sluggish. Dragged along in the wake of the others, Majic hung his head, looking down at his own feet while he walked.

Before them lay a black forest that seemed to melt into the dark sky around it: Fenrir’s Forest, with its jet-black foliage. It was still far away—despairingly far. He sighed for the umpteenth time.

“You tired?”

Majic jumped when a concerned voice called out to him. He groaned, realizing the reaction came in part because he had gotten unused to people showing concern for him. He turned around in time for Isabella to begin speaking again.

“You should have just ridden on the Deep Dragon with Krylancelo and your friends.” As she spoke, she indicated the enormous wolf walking with them a short distance away. The black beast that moved without making a sound seemed like a walking shadow.

Majic responded quietly without looking up at Orphen, Claiomh, the lord, or the two dwarf brothers who rode upon the beast. “It’s fine... I feel like I’d be more tired riding up there.”

“Oh yeah?” Luckily, Isabella didn’t pursue the matter any further.

Feeling guilty, Majic murmured, “Oh, I’m sorry... If I weren’t walking, you wouldn’t have to walk to keep me company, would you, Miss...Assistant Professor Isabella?”

She smiled. It was a sunny smile, with just a bit of shadow in it. “Don’t worry about it. If I were with Krylancelo, we’d just end up talking about Irgitte...and that would be painful.”

“Umm, you’re a sorcerer, right?” Majic suddenly asked her. A beat later, he realized what a stupid question it was and flushed red. It was like asking a hawk “You’re a bird, right?”

Sure enough, Isabella nodded with a bit of a mystified look. “Yes. I’m a sorcerer. I wasn’t in the same class as your teacher Krylancelo, but I’d say we’re contemporaries.”

“Umm, well...what I really wanted to say was, you’re a really amazing sorcerer, right...? Like, capable and strong...”

“I’d say I’m as good as your teacher, sure.” After saying the words, she shrugged, a chagrined smile on her face. “No, maybe not. I’d never try to stand up to Pluto, after all.”

“How good do you suppose Orphen is?”

“Huh?”

“Well, he’s the only other sorcerer I know, and I can tell that he’s really impressive, but I don’t really know how impressive he is...”

Isabella gave him a wide-eyed look for a few moments, but eventually moved closer and said, voice low, “It doesn’t sound like you’re just asking to make small talk. I’ll give you a serious answer, then. That depends on who you ask.”

“It depends?”

“Objectively speaking, Krylancelo has some serious sorcerous ability. Anyone would think the same, watching the way he fought yesterday. But to me, he’s just the younger brother of a person I considered a rival a long time ago, and to Miss Maria, I bet he’ll always be a kid. How do you see him?”

Majic wasn’t sure what to say in response. He looked down and eventually managed, “I don’t think I’ll ever compare to him, no matter what I do.”

“I see. You might be right about that, but you also might already have something that surpasses him.”

“Huh?” Majic looked up and Isabella smiled.

“I said the same thing before, didn’t I?” she continued. “If you’re a sorcerer, then I’m going to treat you like one. But frankly speaking, you look like a novice, and I’m not expecting much from you. Krylancelo, however? It seems to me like he’s trying to change the way he sees you, like he’s trying to acknowledge you as an equal.”

“He is?”

“Well, I can’t be sure, since I’ve never had an apprentice of my own...but I bet it’s pretty hard for the teacher to deal with their student becoming independent too. If you don’t try to change the way you see him in the same way, you might end up being the one left behind in the end.”

Majic walked silently for a time, ruminating on her words. He felt his emotions rising, but an actual answer to his question still eluded him. After several false starts, he eventually managed, “I wanted to stand on my own as a sorcerer.”

“I see,” Isabella said gently.

Majic hesitated briefly, but eventually shook off his indecision and gestured at the crowd walking a short distance away—the frightened, tired, helpless crowd. Just as frightened and tired as them, he went on, “But are these really the strongest black sorcerers on the continent? It’s shameful...”

The Thirteen Apostles, the court sorcerers, stood above all other sorcerers as the pinnacle of their kind. But half of them had fallen before even reaching the sanctuary, and the other half marched on haggardly now, fully convinced that the enemy they were about to face could wipe the rest of them out with nothing more than a thought. They dragged onward with resignation, not moving forward so much as allowing momentum to carry them the only way they felt they could go.

Isabella looked back at her companions like Majic and sighed. “You’re right. It’s pathetic.” Her voice contained not a hint of sarcasm.

◆◇◆◇◆

In the end, he hadn’t been able to stop the Thirteen Apostles.

Orphen pondered to himself from atop the Deep Dragon, watching the black sorcerers’ march under the gradually lightening morning sky. They weren’t fools—they were challenging the sanctuary knowing full well that they didn’t stand a chance against their foe.

What can I actually do here? Just try to limit the sacrifices on both this side and the sanctuary’s? From how Leki acted yesterday, that’s what he wants to do too, right? He put a hand on the black beast’s fur.

Leki just kept plodding on silently—literally, without a single sound—toward a clear destination. Now, just like the Thirteen Apostles, he was headed straight for the sanctuary.

If the sanctuary is really planning on sacrificing the rest of the continent and just saving themselves when the goddess invades in ten days’ time, then...it’s true, we may not be able to avoid a clash between them and the Thirteen Apostles.

He couldn’t let the sanctuary execute that plan, but at the same time, humanity didn’t have their own plan to stop the goddess’s destruction. Well, they did, but it had too many uncertain elements...

Orphen glanced out of the side of his eyes at the other people riding Leki with him. The dwarves, who had complained amply about their treatment over the last few days as they were forced to cling to Leki’s front legs while they traveled, were now riding on his back. They were only up here because Majic had insisted on walking, but his departure had only opened up one spot, so they were piled on top of one another on Leki’s back. As a result, they were still not really getting equal treatment.

Behind them was the lord. Almagest Betisletha, the lord of the Imminent Domain. Still pretending to have a broken leg, he was seated with his right leg extended in a splint, gazing out at the horizon.

Recalling what this lord had finally revealed to him last night, Orphen groaned, a hand to his forehead. Almagest, an artificial being created to save the continent from destruction, was the only one with a way to resist the goddess. But to execute his plan, they had to bring the sanctuary under their control.

I have no choice but to continue on this path at this point and keep heading for the sanctuary... he admitted to himself with some resignation. And he might need the Thirteen Apostles to get the lord there. Leki was powerful, sure, but could he get past the full force of the sanctuary fighting against them? Orphen didn’t know.

“Orpheeen.”

A voice pulled Orphen from his reverie. He looked up and Claiomh slid down Leki’s neck from atop his head.

She stopped nimbly right before Orphen and said, “Leki says it’s about to get hard to proceed, so you should watch out.”

“...He does?”

“Yeah. He says to let everyone know.”

Orphen thought for a moment at the girl’s matter-of-fact tone before he asked, “Wouldn’t it be faster for Leki to tell everyone himself?”

“I thought so too, but apparently it’s really tiring for Leki to try to convey his will to other people. He says it’s something he’s not actually supposed to be able to do.”

“He can’t?”

“Yeah... He said a bunch of other stuff I didn’t really get too... I guess it has something to do with the curse on his kind.” Claiomh cocked her own head as she explained.

He understood it himself well enough from that, but Orphen still asked just to confirm what he was thinking, “So he can only convey his will to you?”

“Huh? Hmm... Yeah, I think so. I don’t really get it, though...” she said quietly, folding her arms.

Claiomh herself apparently had no awareness of this, but Orphen knew exactly what had happened. She’s his familiar. Claiomh and Leki are sharing their consciousness and senses.

Deep Dragons’ mental dominion allowed them to connect their minds to less powerful beings. Depending on the strength of that dominion, a Deep Dragon’s familiar could even tap into the dragon’s power and utilize sorcery themselves. Orphen had seen an example of this himself in the west a few months ago. Though Claiomh didn’t seem to be so deeply dominated.

“Anyway... ‘Hard to proceed,’ eh?” Orphen muttered, getting back on track. The way Claiomh had delivered the warning, it was hard to feel much of a sense of crisis, but their situation being what it was, this was news Orphen couldn’t take lightly. “I got it. I’ll tell everyone.”

Orphen stood and looked down, preparing to jump off of Leki. The closest people to them were Majic and Isabella, who seemed to be discussing something.

Isabella, eh? My impression of her from the Tower was that she was hard on herself and others, and prone to making rash decisions. Hopefully, she’s not getting on Majic’s case or anything. When he saw old acquaintances, he couldn’t help recalling the way he thought and felt as a child.

“Hey, Orphen?” came Claiomh’s voice. “At the lord’s mansion, you said that everyone should be doing something, but...it seems like you’re just trying to do it all yourself now.”

Orphen looked back at her in surprise and Claiomh hung her head apologetically.

“I guess you’re right. It took some time to think it over, but putting it into practice is even harder.” Orphen smiled at the blonde girl and leaped down from the Deep Dragon’s back. As he fell a few meters, he heard the dwarves raise a cheer behind him.

“Hmm?! There’s a space open, Dortin! Go now and claim your space!”

“...I think it’d make more sense if you got off my head and moved there yourself, Brother.”

Whatever, Orphen thought as he landed.

Isabella yelped in surprise, leaving Majic to run over. “What is it, Krylancelo?”

“Leki’s getting nervous,” he said, indicating the giant black wolf who moved without making sound.

When Isabella gave him a confused look, Orphen realized that what he was saying made no sense. “I mean, I know I don’t need to tell anybody to be careful at this point, but...if Leki’s going out of his way to warn us, I figure something pretty intense is about to happen.”

“I suppose you’re right. If you’re concerned, you should tell Master Pluto or Miss Maria—” She indicated the Thirteen Apostles. The two she’d mentioned were commanders, yet they walked at the front of the group.

Until that very moment, they had been there.

Orphen turned to them and saw just a flash of them.

What happened in the next instant was exceedingly simple.

There was one loud sound, a burst of pressure.

An explosion, followed by a gust and screaming voices.

And the two sorcerers walking at the front of the pack—one of them a large man, one of them a woman—sprang into the air like they were rubber toys.

They shot up, spinning, drawing an arc above Orphen and the rest of the party.

Orphen watched, uncomprehending. The procession stopped.

As the court sorcerers clamored, Isabella’s muttered words came through to Orphen strangely clear.

“Th-There go the two monsters of the capital...”

“We traveled here instantaneously from the capital with the assistance of the white sorcerers.” The strong will was still present in the Demon of the Capital Pluto’s voice even after he crashed into the ground, a lump forming on his forehead—it was a miraculously small injury for someone who had gone flying a few dozen meters. He had rejected even a tiny bandage over the wound. It was probably a point of pride.

Maria, who’d been sent flying the same distance, had a similarly insignificant injury, though in contrast with Pluto’s stony countenance, she was barely concealing her displeasure at the situation.

In any case, it was their subordinates who were much more panicked than the two so-called “monsters of the capital.” Some were even approaching whatever invisible wall the two of them had hit and trying to find the sorcerous composition that no doubt sat in the air somewhere. As there was sorcery functioning here, there necessarily had to be a composition somewhere for it to function, but the spell was so different from the sorcery everyone present was used to that it was proving extremely difficult to identify. A couple people got too close and were sent flying in much the same way Pluto and Maria had been. Thankfully, like the two of them, they weren’t injured.

Pluto watched as another of his subordinates went flying with a yelp and clicked his tongue. Instead of scolding the careless sorcerer, he decided to prioritize explaining the situation to the gathered Numbers.

He went on, “The reason they couldn’t transport us directly to the sanctuary was because the white sorcerers feared the Deep Dragons. That, and the barrier in this location...”

“If you come from the west, you can get into Fenrir’s Forest, though,” Orphen muttered, his arms crossed.

Pluto nodded and disagreed at the same time. “This was once part of the forest too. The trees just receded.”

“A barrier, huh?” one of the sorcerers repeated.

Pluto indicated the slight bruise on his forehead and responded, “That’s right. A barrier. Our lack of injury wasn’t luck, and it wasn’t a laughing matter.” He rubbed his finger against the bruise, his tone frustrated. “If I’m not wrong about this, this is spirit sorcery. So it can’t hurt us...but neither can we pass through it. There are very few ways to foil spirit sorcery, after all.”

A young sorcerer bounced on the ground in the distance after being flung back by the barrier. A few of his companions rushed over to him and they all sighed, discouraged, at the power they had no way to thwart.

Orphen sighed as well, watching them. “Fenrir’s Forest is protected by the Deep Dragons. So the sanctuary has two lines of defense?” he asked Pluto.

“Not that they have a reason for such a thing,” the man said in defeat, though Orphen didn’t know if the sentiment was directed toward him or the dragons. Pluto indicated Leki, who was seated on the ground, and asked vaguely, “Couldn’t the Deep Dragon break through?”

“...Apparently, Leki said it was going to get ‘hard to proceed.’ He didn’t say ‘impossible,’ though, so I think he could still make it...”

Leki had let down the weights on his back, but Claiomh remained perched atop his head. The enormous Deep Dragon sat, looking toward the sanctuary. The spirit sorcery barrier should have been just a few meters in front of his nose.

“Let’s retreat a hundred meters and come up with a countermeasure,” Pluto called out to everyone. Then he turned and said only to the Numbers, “Put another way, that means that if we can just get through here, the white sorcerers will get us to the sanctuary. If what you said about the Deep Dragons abandoning their protection of the sanctuary is true, then this is the last trouble we should encounter.”

There was more anxiety in the Demon of the Capital’s voice than disappointment—that meant this barrier wouldn’t be that big of a problem for him. The real difficulty would come after breaking through the barrier.

“We’re a hundred meters away from the sanctuary...”

◆◇◆◇◆

He wasn’t listening at the door, but he could still hear voices from within.

The content seemed to be harmless small talk. He couldn’t hear the words all that clearly, but the voices were unexpectedly cheerful, which made him suspicious. At the end, he even heard laughing, which left him speechless. Most of the laughing came from Heartia, but he distinctly heard the faint laughter of his conversation partner as well.

He wasn’t waiting in the hallway all that long, but by the time the door opened, he’d re-crossed his legs several times.

Eventually, with no fanfare, the door opened and the red-haired man stepped out.

“Hey, thanks for waiting, Colgon.”

He eyed his underclassman for a bit, then signaled for him to leave. Heartia said goodbye into the room and closed the door before following him down the hall.

When they’d left the vicinity of the room, he asked, “How’d you break the ice in less than five minutes?”

“Huh? What do you mean? Isn’t that normal?” Heartia said lightly. His words were easy, genuine. He frowned and crossed his arms before adding with some befuddlement, “I guess because...she’s hot? Ow! Why are you kicking me?!”

“I explained it to you, didn’t I? It’s not human. It’s an artificial being, created here in the sanctuary for a certain purpose. It can predict the future, fool the Network, and control the people and creatures around it. It’s dangerous—”

Heartia interrupted his explanation. “What’s wrong with a little control? She’s hot, after all.”

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“Huh? Why?” He seemed utterly serious about this as well, looking genuinely hurt.

Colgon changed the subject. “Whatever. If you can take care of Lottecia, it’ll help me too. We’re in a difficult situation, but things are generally going pretty well.”

“Like what?”

“On the outside, Krylancelo and the Thirteen Apostles are drawing Doppel X’s fighting power, and on the inside, Leticia has the priestesses’ attention focused on her. The sanctuary is ripe for the taking,” he murmured, speeding up.

He suddenly stopped and looked back at the door in the distance—to Lottecia’s room. “I’ll get a weapon ready. You don’t plan on helping me, right?”

“That’s right. I’m sorry, but I’m neutral here,” Heartia said, returning to the practical tone of a proper sorcerer. At the same time, he looked at Colgon and frowned as if realizing something. “What do you mean by ‘weapon,’ anyway? Aren’t you already armed?”

When it was pointed out to him, Colgon remembered the weapons he had on him under his cloak. The sorcerous Sword of Korkt. He also had a rather large knife, some wires, and files on the ends of his gloved fingertips that proved useful in a close quarters fight. Damian had destroyed his gun, so he no longer had that.

“These hardly count,” Colgon said frankly.

“I see...” Heartia didn’t sound convinced.

“I need a more serious weapon,” Colgon supplied. “It’s a slim chance, but if the Thirteen Apostles show up in the sanctuary, I might need to fight them off. Depending on what happens, Pluto could be a tough opponent. I need to prepare if I want to make sure I can win.”

“Against Krylancelo too?”

Colgon shrugged. He had no reason to answer.

Heartia must have come up with his own interpretation of Colgon’s reaction. He asked something different instead. “Lottecia’s your wife, right? Why don’t you talk to her?”

“The marriage isn’t official. My identity is falsified.”

“Isn’t that marriage fraud?”

“Her identity was also made up by her foster father.”

“...I see.”

As they walked through the halls, the connections between locations in front of them changed rapidly. The halls of the sanctuary were controlled by the priestesses, so if you got on their bad side, they could make your life hell.

Normally, you couldn’t even have a conversation like this quietly, but Colgon was fairly certain that the priestesses had their hands full dealing with the Thirteen Apostles and Leticia, so they didn’t have the energy to spare to listen in. And even if they were listening, it wasn’t like they could throw him in a dungeon. The priestesses were just another exhausted part of the sanctuary right now. No, they might be the most exhausted part of the sanctuary right now.

Heartia suddenly piped up like he’d just thought of something. “But you married her because you loved her, right? I mean, you’d never do anything you didn’t want to do.”

Again, Colgon didn’t feel like answering. He just kept walking, not even shrugging in response this time.

◆◇◆◇◆

It was a large hall for the number of people present in it.

Really it was just her, Leticia thought to herself with some irony. She felt like the only living person in the space. The spirit form of Azalie next to her certainly didn’t count, and the man in the priest’s robes staring at her from a slight distance, Jack Frisbee, looked more like a ghost than anything else with his killer’s eyes. Then there were the three women sitting across a table from her.

These looked entirely like spirits of the dead.

...More than me? Azalie spoke into her mind, apparently having overheard her thoughts.

Leticia ignored the comment, but she more or less agreed with it. The women were dressed like the Celestials she had only heard about in legends—much like the one she’d seen earlier up at the podium. Beautiful women with green hair. Once she freed herself from their mental dominion, however, it was easy for her to tell that the color was simply dyed. Their eyes weren’t the distinctive green that dragons’ eyes were either. On the podium, the woman had used a transparent sheet in front of her face to give her eyes a green appearance, but they weren’t utilizing such methods now.

The women were human. That was clear enough to Leticia. Humans dressed as Celestials. Spirits masquerading as an ancient, destroyed race from the continent’s past. She couldn’t help the sardonic comments springing to mind about them.

One of the women was the first to actually speak between them. “Firstly... May we ask how you teleported here directly?”

The leftmost woman had spoken. She was the oldest of them and likely the leader. She spoke in a self-important, grandiose manner, but there was a shadow in her expression that never left her face. Leticia suddenly wondered if it wasn’t her age that made her seem older than the others.

“I used the pact Childman Powderfield swore.” Leticia said what Azalie whispered to her. Unused to being a spirit, Azalie apparently had trouble even conveying her voice to living people. Leticia sighed, eyeing Azalie—she was the only one who could see her here.

“The pact...”

Leticia returned her focus to the women in front of her. The woman dressed as a Celestial, calling herself a priestess, nodded bitterly.

“I see. If you know about that, then it means you weren’t just bluffing, I suppose.”

“The pact summons warriors to the sanctuary when the time comes. As the sanctuary’s representative, Sister Istersiva formed it with the lord of the Imminent Domain two hundred years ago.”

“Istersiva was expelled from the sanctuary!” The rightmost woman suddenly raised her voice.

Leticia couldn’t respond to her right away—she was only conveying Azalie’s words, after all—but she glared at the woman nonetheless. “The pact still stands. As proof, the Fairy Dragons’ spirit sorcery didn’t attack us.”

“If the pact still stands, then that’s all the more reason why we should have the full story.” The woman in the middle was the most calm of the three of them. She was the one who had stood up at the podium, and from her age, Leticia judged that she likely had a certain amount of responsibility even if she wasn’t a leader.

She continued, “The pact that Sister Istersiva formed with the then-lord of the Imminent Domain summons warriors to the sanctuary under certain circumstances...and it allows those warriors to make use of the sanctuary’s facilities and equipment in order to fight the sacred beasts of the gods. But we do not know the details of these circumstances.”

“Misuse of this pact could lead to rebel forces overtaking the sanctuary,” the woman on the right added with a huff of breath from her nose.

The woman in the center shot a look at her but didn’t protest at the interruption. “The Deep Dragons are also a part of the pact. They must have abandoned their defense of the sanctuary because someone is plotting sedition using the pact as a shield!”

“I don’t know how it is now, but there was no way the sanctuary at the time wasn’t aware of the pact,” Leticia said coolly. “I’m sure that’s the reason they started the sorcerer hunts.”

“What reason would the sanctuary have to fear humans—” The woman on the right stood from her chair and shouted, and this time Leticia voiced her own thoughts instead of speaking Azalie’s words.

“If you’re really not afraid, then go ahead and throw me out!” She banged a fist on the table. The high-quality, heavy piece of furniture didn’t so much as budge. Leticia ignored the pain in her fist and kept going. “Go ahead and kill me like you killed everyone in the Imminent Domain! Do it! If you do that, you’ll have no way to negotiate with Azalie—”

“There’s no need to rush to your death now when the whole world will end in another ten days. I apologize for our rudeness,” the middle woman said calmly. “But I would ask that you refrain from slandering our ancestors as well. Much about history is only known by those who lived through it. It is not simply an argument that can be won.”

“Right.” Leticia pulled her fist back, taking a deep breath. She glanced to the woman on the right, who had returned to her seat, her face flushed red.

At the same time, she caught a glance of the man in the priest’s robes, observing their conversation with a smirk on his face. He sneered like he was watching a farce. It was a nasty smile. Leticia shot him a loathing look. There was nothing she could do but agree with the woman, however. And not just about history. There were many things that only a person with firsthand experience could know.

The woman in the middle began speaking again. Leticia was glad for the excuse to focus on something other than Jack’s smirk. “I presume you were caught up in the battle with the Imminent Domain. You do not look like someone on Almagest’s side... Your anger is reasonable, but there was a reason we were forced to take such an action. I believe the sorcerer hunts two hundred years ago occurred for much the same reason.”

“Then what about what’s happening right now?” Leticia asked, returning to her job interpreting for Azalie. “Damian Rue and the white sorcerers foresaw that the sanctuary would attempt to shrink the Ayrmankar barrier. Just how small are they planning on making it?”

“The barrier must be dissolved in order to be remade. The fewer tries it takes to reform it, the better. Additionally, now that we’ve lost one of the founding sorcerers, Aureole, we don’t know just how small the barrier has to be to form fully. This means that we must shrink it to its smallest possible state. Its most safe state.”

“So...leave the sanctuary, and abandon everything else?” Leticia clarified.

The woman in the middle smiled wryly. “Don’t act ignorant. What do you want, a guarantee?”

“I am ignorant. I have no idea, for instance, why humans like you rule the sanctuary.”

The woman’s only answer was to continue smiling wryly.

After waiting for a time, Leticia realized that she wasn’t going to say anything more and took an irritated breath. She was just supposed to be conveying Azalie’s words, but the more she did so, the more her own emotions were finding their way into those words.

“How many dragons remain in the sanctuary?” Leticia asked.

“What an insolent question—”

“None,” the woman in the middle muttered, cutting off the woman on the left. The other women opened their eyes wide at her, but she ignored them and said again, “It may as well be none. Who remains with the power that they can truly be called a dragon? The War Dragons stumbling around the dwarves’ nation? The Weird Dragons who died out? The Deep Dragons chose the pact over the sanctuary. They’re sure to challenge the goddess in the next ten days and be wiped out.”

By this point, the two other women had such fire in their eyes, they seemed openly hostile toward the middle woman, but she just coolly ignored them, even smiling.

She waved her hand mockingly as she continued, “Speak or strike them and the Fairy Dragons don’t even respond...not since they lost all five senses in their previous battle with the goddess. They’re nothing but living corpses! The Red Dragons are loyal, but all they do is obey. Their lethargy is their only rebellion.” The woman spoke faster and faster, like some kind of dam had burst, but her words remained precise even as her emotions rose.

Leticia just listened in silence, partially because there was no room for her to get a word in.

“Silence, Sister Preenia.” The old woman finally reached out to grab hold of the middle woman, but Preenia knocked her hand away. It was practically a slap. The old woman yelped in shock, and the third woman ran to her side when she fell over, calling a name that Leticia didn’t catch.

Meanwhile, Preenia’s diatribe continued. “What use are the wandering Mist Dragons? Well? Are there any dragons remaining on this rotten continent? That’s not a question that I want to answer...”

No one could stop her. They had to just wait until Preenia stopped herself. She hung her head, brushing aside her dyed-green hair when it fell in her eyes, and returned to the resolute expression she’d worn earlier. Then she said, “Do we seem insane to you?”

Yes, and I’m sure I do too. But Leticia swallowed her own response and instead waited for Azalie’s words to convey them precisely.

“I think that exchange wasn’t entirely irrelevant. It connects to what we were talking about before. From your perspective, the sanctuary as it is now doesn’t possess the power to resist the goddess, does it?”

“You speak as if this doesn’t concern you, Chaos Witch.” Preenia glared at her viciously—the woman’s eyes were looking at Leticia, but it was Azalie that she was trying to see.

Her tone was vicious. “You’re the one who undid a seal that shouldn’t have been undone in the cursed city of Kimluck. It was your meddling that upset the balance between Aureole and the goddess and invited the calamity we face now. We spent two hundred years leaving Kimluck and that accursed pope alone, and you proved that we were right to do so.”

“I see. Everyone would have been able to remain happy if we’d just sacrificed Aureole alone for the rest of time.” After immediately coming back with that, Leticia—or rather, Azalie—realized that the woman wasn’t going to be provoked and changed tacks. “I’m kidding. But you can’t foist the responsibility onto me completely either. Aureole foresaw her own end. As the founding sorcerer, Aureole shared her senses with Sister Istersiva, her familiar, which is why Istersiva was able to predict the destruction of the Ayrmankar barrier two hundred years ago.”

As Leticia said all that smoothly, she watched Preenia’s expression carefully as the other woman listened and noticed that it wasn’t changing at all. She realized Preenia was already aware of everything Azalie was saying. “Aureole was right on the verge of death—more than that, she desired death. The goddess had a way to kill the founding sorcerer. And if the immortal founding sorcerer despaired, she would die. That’s why the goddess never let go of Aureole’s neck. She waited for hundreds of years for Aureole’s willpower to run out.”

“Hmm... Let me confess, then. We also foresaw the destruction of the Ayrmankar barrier and made our own preparations for the event, though almost all of it proved useless. Frankly, Aureole lived much longer than we anticipated. Was that the will of Aureole you mentioned?”

“No,” Leticia murmured. She had been leaning over the table toward the other woman but sat back now. Suddenly curious, she glanced at the man in the priest’s robes. The man was unmoving, just watching the proceedings. It wasn’t even obvious to her if he was listening to them or not.

Rather than the three priestesses, it was more like they were exchanging information with just Preenia now. The other two seemed to agree, since they had moved their chairs back from where Preenia’s was.

It was a pitifully small gathering for such a grand assembly hall, Leticia thought to herself. This whole thing was a stupid farce. No one here really believed that they would be deciding the fate of the world. They were just buying time here, after all.

Isn’t that right, Azalie? Leticia asked silently, but her sister ignored her. Or had she not heard her?