Chapter 39: The Value of a Sacrifice

“W-why not stay a little longer before leaving?”

Beata Mirgas looked not only surprised but also faintly disappointed.
Even after Bel had clearly said that finding the summoner was urgent, they still wanted her to linger here. Perhaps it was simple courtesy, or perhaps, like newfound believers, they wished to bask in her presence a little longer. Either way, Bel had no interest.

In fact, there was a far greater reason why she wanted to leave this place quickly.

“There aren’t any edible men here.”

“P-pfft!”

The one who choked at those words was Axel Mirgas.
As the head of the house, he had been too busy cleaning up after the returning knights yesterday to join much of the conversation. Now, having heard that blunt remark, he coughed hastily to regain composure.

Beata, noticing this, glanced at Bel and cautiously suggested:

“…My brother, if dressed up properly, might be quite… serviceable.”

“Ahem.”

Axel even flushed red and gave an awkward cough.

Bel narrowed her eyes.
They had no idea what a true “sacrifice” meant, and yet they dared to offer one so casually.
Let’s see if they would still speak that way if their own hearts were torn out and devoured.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

But then, Lema Valkite interjected.

“Why not? I’ve never heard anyone say the lord of Mirgas House was lacking in looks.”

“…My master does not take filthy sacrifices.”

“Eh?”

Axel, who had been flustered until now, suddenly looked offended.

“F-filthy sacrifice? S-such words are outrageous! How can you utter such disrespect in front of the Lord herself?”

“To conceal a corrupted heart and yet try to offer oneself—that is what is truly blasphemous.”

It sounded metaphorical, but Bel asked bluntly:

“…What do you mean by a corrupted heart?”

Lema answered in her place.

“From what I know, Lord Mirgas was once betrothed. Enough time has passed that he ought to have been married already. Is there no chastity among Mirgas men?”

At that, Axel, who had kept quiet until now, finally spoke.

“Sir Lema!”

Perhaps encouraged by Bel’s silence, he finally dared to defend himself.

“Isn’t it you who are filthier, Sir Lema?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean you are the one who has done worse.”

“You dare slander me? I am a sworn servant of Luxlon, bound by an oath of purity. Do not dare compare me with—”

But before he could finish, Axel scoffed.

“That’s exactly the problem. How can a turncoat heretic, who once served another god, preach purity before us?”

“….”

Lema fell silent. She had, indeed, dug her own grave.

“In contrast, our Mirgas line has been atheist from the beginning. And when it comes to ancient civilization, our knowledge may be lacking before the Lord, but for this age it is second to none. If the Lord has been present since the era of ancient Pranagenis, then who else but we, who have studied that civilization for generations, could claim such purity?”

“…The lord of Mirgas speaks the truth.”

Beata even raised a thumb in agreement.

“And what of the Valkites? For generations, your house has been lackeys of Lucilonia! What family could be filthier than that?”

“….”

Lema said nothing, only glaring icily at Axel.
They had struck her sorest nerve, but because Bel was present, the argument did not escalate into bloodshed.

Though I’d rather they didn’t torment my sacrifice too much…

At least the silence prevented matters from worsening.

But… betrothed? Bel had thought Axel was alone. Even if something tragic had occurred recently, shouldn’t she have returned when the others awoke yesterday?

“Tell me more about this betrothal.”

When Bel leaned on her chin expectantly, Axel bit his lip, then closed his eyes tight.

“…She passed away.”

“Ah. Widower.”

Bel dismissed it in a single word. Beata, however, hesitantly added:

“Lord Belmias, that too could be… a rare flavor—”

“Forget it. A man without the qualifications of a summoner has no taste anyway.”

“….”

“You don’t even believe in gods, do you? Either of you.”

At that, both siblings fell silent.

At length, Axel admitted in a trembling voice:

“Y-yes. It’s true. How could you see through us so easily…?”

Because in truth, what Lema had said was correct. His attempt to offer himself had nothing to do with faith—it was mere desire. Even his betrothal, entered into for selfish reasons rather than devotion, was proof enough.

“Sir Lema was not wrong. I apologize.”

“…I did not know of your loss. For that, I offer my apology.”

Axel’s eyes widened. He had never expected those words. But instead of anger, he felt oddly relieved.

“Thank you, Sir Lema. I too went too far. Think of it as the thoughtless words of an atheist. Whatever else may be true, you are still the First Apostle of the Lord.”

Lema nodded lightly, and the dispute was settled.

Beata then steered the conversation back to what she had wanted all along.

“In truth… I wish to know how everyone awoke so suddenly. How did my wish bring about such a miracle?”

As expected of a house that had stubbornly remained atheist in an age of gods—their curiosity flared now that they sensed a possible explanation.

Bel found their consistency oddly pleasing, and chose to answer, if only briefly.

“It was a being summoned by human will.”

“Will?”

Beata recalled how Bel had once praised her for having a strong will while stroking her head.
Though she was the very cause of their tragedy, she still felt it as a compliment.

“This time, it was your will. Ancient relics respond to certain wills, and by coincidence, all the conditions were met.”

The conditions were these:
A looming calamity of death.
A will that accepted it with resignation.
A wish, at the moment of death, for a painless end.
And yet—not a true desire to die.

Thus, they entered an eternal-like sleep, hoping that if the calamity passed, they might awaken again.
It was a cowardly wish, but one surprisingly common at that time.

“Just before the moon fell, such wishes were everywhere.”

And there was no need to say why.
The moon had once threatened to crash into the earth, and ancient relics like Aseras were born as miraculous attempts to resist that fate.

Nor was it necessary to explain further—that calamity was the Age of White Ash, the same disaster that had annihilated ancient Pranagenis.

“So it only awakens if someone wishes for it? I don’t think my will is that special…”

Bel shook her head.

“Aseras is picky. It only responds to a very specific will. People like you are rare. Even in Pranagenis, such strong wishes were scarce.”

“I… see.”

Beata blushed faintly. Though Bel’s words were blunt, they somehow struck straight to the heart.

“Rare, like people are rare… then it’s like Lucilonia.”

“Oh?”

Bel turned to Lema Valkite.
No one knew Lucilonia better than the former fanatic of Luxlon.

“Yes. In Lucilonia, all gods are acknowledged as fragments of Luxlon, but there are two acts condemned as absolute heresy: human sacrifice and mass slaughter. Because they hold human life to be precious.”

“And why is that?”

“Why? Isn’t it obvious? Because people are precious, no human may recklessly kill another.”

“…Is that so?”

Lema thought she was stating the obvious, but Bel’s response seemed strangely disconnected.
Still, not realizing why, Lema continued:

“Yes. Even when the Valkites were purged as heretics, our entire household was not slain at once. The Apostles of Lucilonia avoided bloodshed where possible.”

In the process of resisting, some had died—but not enough to be called a massacre. Even after subjugation, the rest were not executed en masse.

Lema lowered her gaze briefly to his hands. The brand of slavery was still etched into his skin.

“Rather than slaughter, they often destroy you socially and leave you to die slowly. That way, they avoid direct killing.”

“How is that any different from killing?”

“Ha… so my master thinks the same. Indeed. Still, because of that doctrine, I survived even in such a state. Though they do kill, they do not do it all at once.”

And some, if deemed not deeply guilty, escaped with lesser punishment.

“…Hmph.”

Bel leaned lazily on her chin.
It was clear now why, when Lema had first met her, she could not reconcile her with Luxlon.

For Belmias had committed all the acts Lucilonia condemned as heresy:

Cannibalism.

Massacre.

And human sacrifice.