Chapter 50 – Faith & Believers (10)

Faith & Believers (10)

Oh God, may the one to be my wife be humble and kind,

Grant her to be a dear friend of mine.

On the day I breathe my last, let her be there,
To close my eyes with gentle care.

In her sorrow, heart heavy and tight,
May she clasp her hands over me, in the quiet of night.

Without a word of prayer, just,
Just,
Just…

Let her kneel in silent trust.

A poem I once heard.

Was it at the speech academy, or was it from a friend whose face I can no longer recall? I hated losing connections after losing my parents when I was young. It was selfish, but I preferred that a loved one see my corpse rather than me seeing theirs. Perhaps that’s why I liked the poem, regardless of its intended meaning.

But even in front of those words, having recited them so.
Having prayed like that.
Why am I the one who remains in this godforsaken world.

Why me.

Why

Just why.

Why is it me who’s alive, not her.

The heavens cry out.
Dark clouds began to fill the clear sky that had not a single cloud before.

Under the sky, now engulfed in darkness.

The only thing I could do in front of the crumbling paradise,

Was to look at the corpse of my former lover,

And silently shed endless tears.

That was all.

…

Ellie’s death was foreseen. It was an unavoidable fate, so to speak.

Even I knew back then that sin would come crashing down on me.

That it was only temporary for someone like me, trash, to enjoy such happiness. That the paradise which was merely brushed by in a moment was destined to disappear entirely. Even the fact that if I did not face my sins, Ellie would bear the brunt of my karma.

I knew it all.
Yet, I only avoided it.

Paying for my sins? I had to accept it. There’s a price for everything, and one must take responsibility for their actions. Someday, when the time comes, I’ll be buried in sin and die, so please don’t show up until then.
It’s not like I wanted to come to this world. What’s wrong with thinking of it as just a dream or a game and killing? It’s a fitting revenge against that damned goddess. Even while thinking this, I was disgusted with myself.

Yet, nothing changed, and I continued to avoid it.

I looked at her, pretending not to see the blood on my hands. When I was with Ellie, I could forget everything and be happy, so I didn’t look at anything else. Everyone dirties their hands, so I thought I deserved at least the right to be happy.

It was a vain delusion.

I, who couldn’t keep a single promise.

From the beginning, it was clear to me,

If someone had to die, let that someone be me.
I vowed not to weep,
To live a life full of glee,
To lay bare every truth, every secret I keep.

All I wanted was to face it,

This promise I made, I wished to embrace it…

But in the end, it was nothing but empty, worthless bullshit. I’m just trying to keep the last promise left by Troka before his death.

In the end, I couldn’t keep anything.

I’m just a piece of trash,

That kind of guy.

Thank you so much, Goddess.

For giving me this time for reflection.

Really, thank you.

And to the saint, Cecilia, who gave me another chance.
I want to express my gratitude to her too.

* * *

“Tha… Ughhhhhhh…”

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Cecilia, painfully vomiting.

The vomit of such a noble person as a saint was no different from ours. It was dirty and smelly, no different from a homeless person on the street. She looked at me, vomited again, and with trembling hands, she squeezed her head and vomited…
How long will she keep doing that? Just being voyeuristically exposed to the past is already very unpleasant.

“…Why the hell are you throwing up? If you’re going to do it, go outside, it stinks.”

“Ughhh… You… How could you… No, how could you.”

How many times did she try to continue speaking only to vomit again and again?
She finally managed to steady herself, looking at me with trembling eyes. Her face, smeared with tears and saliva, was hard to believe as that of a pure and noble saint.

“How can you still be alive? Why aren’t you dead…”

That was all she could muster to say with such effort.

I thought she would mention something about Ellie, or that the pain I’ve experienced is nothing compared to the pain of the people I’ve killed, something like that.

It would have been easier to answer if it were that kind of remark.

“I’m not dead yet, am I? Someone would have to kill me for that.”

I want to die, but I can’t.
If I commit suicide, I lose. Why can’t she understand such a simple concept?

“That’s not what I’m talking about, how can you…”

She seemed unable to comprehend me, wiping her mouth and trying to continue speaking.

“Well, that’s not important anyway.”

I hated repeating useless conversations, so I cut her off. At that, Cecilia dropped her hand to the floor with a thud. The expression on her face as she looked at me was slightly shaky, seemingly uneasy. The tears hanging from her chin created a pitiful atmosphere.
Well, it wasn’t my concern. After all, she was the one who wanted to steal my memories, and it was Cecilia herself who had changed like that because of it.

If I have time to worry about such things, I should be doing what I need to do.

As I moved my arm, the chains that bound my hands clinked. The conditions for escape were still the worst.

Maybe I should use it after all to escape.

“You could just give up, you know. Dying right now would be a relief, a comfort, so why…!”

While I kept my mouth shut, Cecilia shouted as if she was pouring out her emotions.
It was nice when it was quiet. But to say that dying at the hands of another is more comfortable, I couldn’t help but let out a laugh, which might have been more of a sneer, and loosened my tongue.

Sometimes opening up can be a solution.
That’s what Ellie used to say.

“To tell you the truth. I want to die even now.”

But I’m not sure how to articulate it logically. After all, I’ve never been good at expressing my feelings properly.

“I was just a fucking ordinary student. I just wanted to play with my friends, study moderately, marry moderately, and die moderately. But then some bitch goddess showed up and she, she, she…”

There was a lot that came to mind, but I couldn’t continue. It had been a while since I felt so overwhelmed with emotion, and it’s a disgustingly miserable sensation.

“…stole my life, and so cruelly shattered my last place of rest, and now she’s even killed Troka. I want to kill that goddess.”

Revenge solves everything.
They say that all that’s left after a fire is ashes… But if I do nothing, they’ll probably live happily ever after.
I want to take revenge on those who made me this miserable. And when it’s all over, I can just die. If I don’t feel regret, then I win.

But.

“I can’t do anything.”

Humans can’t kill a god.
It’s an obvious story. Who would be foolish enough to seek revenge on a typhoon or a tsunami?

“But if I commit suicide now, I lose.”

Yet, I want to end it all.

“If someone brutally kills me, maybe I could feel less guilty.”

I want to die.

“But I can’t break even the last promise. So I keep breathing this detestable breath.”

Death ends it all.

…But if I die now, could I really hold my head high?
To Ellie and Troka, who might still be watching over me, to my parents, to the people I’ve killed.

“So I want to die.”

I want to give up.

I just want to leave everything behind and meet Ellie.

“Cecilia, if you could slit my throat, that would be really nice. What do you think?”

As my long and pointless rant ended, tears streamed down her face. Cecilia could no longer look at me. She just bowed her head and wept quietly.

Water trickling down from the ceiling runs over my eyes and grazes my scars.

It hurt.

Was it because it seeped into the scars, or because it forced open the wounds I had carefully sealed away in the depths of my heart?

Either way, it hurt.
Truly.

…It really hurts. Thanks to that, the consciousness that was about to blur snaps back into focus.

“Ha, sorry, but I don’t actually want to die. There’s still a letter I need to deliver.”

I want to die, but not yet. At least not until I’ve dealt a significant blow to the goddess and uncovered the truth about Troka’s death.

“You have people who will support you even if you’re broken, right? Like the goddess. It’s truly a blessing to have someone to lean on, isn’t it… Cecilia?”

I am alone.
I was alone, and I became alone.

But Cecilia has many people by her side. I had no desire to receive her clumsy sympathy.

And I have already shaken off the past. After much anguish and deliberation, I let go of Ellie from my heart. I no longer needed any more comfort or encouragement.

“It’s because I suffered that the goddess could bring you happiness.”

She, saved by the goddess, and me, tormented by the goddess.
Here we are, having this conversation.

If this is also fate, then so be it, but human affairs are truly unpredictable.

“Now you understand, right? Why I hate the goddess.”

“No, no, it’s me. I… you…,”

Her words failed to reach my ears and simply vanished into thin air.

I am disgusted with myself.

And even more so with the goddess.

I loathe her for bestowing blessings only upon those who follow her.

So, it’s time to bring it out.
My trump card.

I set my entire body ablaze. I maintain my state by gathering the flowing rage and sorrow throughout my body into one sensation, and I continue to vomit out my insides. Acid reflux burns my throat. And with the sensation of my throat and tongue being torn to shreds, I spat out the sword.

With a clang, the sword pierced and split the ground.

The sword, emitting a dark and crimson aura, was thin yet begun to absorb the space around it, and before long, it took on the form of a massive greatsword.
The demonic sword Equam.
The weapon of Mortis.

The second trump card that reminds me of the past I had desperately hidden.

I had vowed not to use it.

But still, I am…

“Ah, aah…”

Even after I had drawn the demonic sword, Cecilia just stared blankly. Dripping with drool or vomit, unrecognizable, she sent her gaze my way, looking somewhat broken.

Under normal circumstances, I would have immediately sought to extinguish her as a remnant of the Demon King’s army. Perhaps it was the influence of memory assimilation, but she showed no reaction.

Well, I hated being watched.
But this could be a fairly decent exchange.

The saintess who could neutralize the demonic sword is incapacitated.

The time for escape has come.