Chapter 40: The Price of a Body

“I don’t know who the summoner is, but if they deliberately summoned Lord Belmias as the counterpoint to Luxlon, then it’s highly likely they’re living in opposition to that god’s doctrine.”

“Living that way?”

“Yes. After last night, I thought more on it. If they call Belmias not Luxlon, but Evil, and worship her, then surely they must also commit acts that directly defy Lucilonia’s creed. So, to find the summoner, wouldn’t it be best to trace such actions?”

“Oh, that’s what you were dwelling on?”

“…Yes.”

Lema Valkite spoke as if it were only natural for him to act so, as Bel’s Apostle.

“And with what you’ve just told me, I’m half convinced already. If the summoner’s will is so important, it’ll make narrowing the search easier.”

He didn’t linger on what had already happened here—it was the past now.

Lema hadn’t forgotten their true goal, and he could tell Belmias had already grown bored with this place and wanted to move on quickly. So, as soon as the conversation turned to him, he gently steered it back to the real purpose.

He’s proving useful.

At first, Bel had considered keeping him around only as a “lunchbox.”
But lately, he was showing real enthusiasm in the search for the summoner. He was performing far better than expected.

“Then… perhaps it’s one of the fanatics Lucilonia has been hunting lately?”

“Fanatics?”

Beata spread out a map on the table.

“There was a sect purged by Lucilonia long ago, but some are believed to have survived. Just like… Sir Lema.”

She glanced at him, then continued:

“The Empire has issued warrants and is pursuing them. If they’ve turned to another god instead of Luxlon, it could very well be them.”

“That sounds right.”

If someone summoned a being opposed to Luxlon, then that would fit.
Now that she thought about it, when Bel had first awoken, the women captured by the s*ave traders had whispered rumors—about fanatics who captured people to sacrifice them to their god.

“Here.”

Beata pointed to a spot on the map, then slid her finger down. It was land outside the order of the Holy Empire.

Lema, watching carefully, spoke up:

“Master, that’s the place we already passed through.”

The lawless region where s*ave trade ran rampant.
It seemed very likely the fanatic they sought was there.

“Then let’s go find them.”

“Yes, I’ll make preparations.”

Lema immediately rose, ready to obey.

“I’ve already gathered supplies you might need for the investigation. If you require anything else, say the word.”

“It’s a shame you’re leaving so soon.”

The Mirgas siblings, too, seemed intent on sending them off properly.

After the goodbyes, Bel stretched as she stood, then suddenly asked:

“But why was that person branded a heretic?”

She wondered if, like Lema, they’d been condemned without really knowing why.

“Human sacrifice.”

This time, the reason was all too clear.

The Mirgas siblings reluctantly saw Bel and Lema off. Originally, they had approached intending to strip the travelers of their wealth, but in the end, they had wound up offering tribute instead. Since the result was favorable, they had no complaints.

They even provided two horses. Not fine warhorses, but good enough for travel.

A knight named Kibyr had begged to accompany them, but Bel refused.
Lema followed because he was useful—and because, if nothing else, he was a meal-in-waiting. Kibyr, not knowing that, would have been a burden.

“Master.”

“…Hm?”

Just after leaving Mirgas territory, Lema spoke softly.

“I wish to ask about… Aseras.”

“You could’ve asked earlier.”

Lema didn’t answer the rebuke. Clearly, this was something he only wanted to bring up when they were alone.

“What is it?”

Even after opening the subject, he hesitated.
Perhaps this was the true matter he’d been brooding on since last night. Finally, he spoke slowly:

“I understood what happened in Mirgas. Like you, they heard the voice of human will, and their wish was granted.”

“Right.”

“But… there’s still something I don’t understand.”

He had accepted surprisingly easily the idea that there were beings who granted human wishes.
Lucilonia taught that Luxlon bore many names. It wasn’t truly polytheism, but still enough to reconcile the existence of such entities.

But then Lema said something unexpected:

“The old man… he didn’t seem to be a target for Aseras.”

He paused.

“And Aseras… took the form of an old man.”

“…Yes.”

“Then, Master…”

He couldn’t help but see the connection. Of course, he knew Belmias was not exactly the same as Aseras. But still—just as Aseras had not touched the old man, Belmias had not touched women.

She could have killed them if she wanted, but she hadn’t.

“Master, you said that form was familiar. Why?”

“…”

“You hear the will of humans, and you grant their wishes—you are omnipotent. But why do you take a human form? Why consume sacrifices in that form?”

Bel kept silent, but Lema pressed on, unwilling to let it go.
Bel didn’t look back, so Lema couldn’t see her expression.

For a time, only hoofbeats filled the silence. Then Bel asked, instead of answering:

“…Lema.”

“Yes.”

“If destruction were to come upon this era, what do you think humans would do?”

“They would try to overcome it.”

The answer came almost instantly—so very much in character for Lema. Bel chuckled faintly.

“And if the destruction were certain?”

“…Then I would spend the time with those I hold dear.”

“And after that?”

“If escape were truly impossible… then perhaps I would have thought as the Mirgas did. Though not I myself.”

It was a satisfactory answer. Bel liked people like him.
That thought—spending the end with loved ones—was a selfish wish, one that shirked all responsibility.

“Yes. To look away from responsibility, to think only of one’s own comfort, and even hope someone else would shoulder the burden—that was a wish only the irresponsible would make. Even then, most humans didn’t see it kindly.”

“…”

“And if they thought it possible—then they would think of a being who could put them to sleep, and wake them when it was over.”

“Yes, if nothing else, it seems the age allowed such things. That’s why such a system was created.”

“Indeed. But what do you think was used as material to create it?”

“…Material?”

“This body’s material.”

No matter how strong human will might be, wishing alone could not create something from nothing.

Humans were precious. In ancient Pranagenis, both humans and human will were treasured.
But that value could also be twisted into something horrific.

“Here’s a hint, Lema: voluntary will and involuntary will are utterly different in quality. You are fit as a summoner because you can burn yourself willingly for your wish. But…”

That was why killing s*ave traders and bandits never satisfied her.

The reason was simple: they had no will to offer themselves.

Bel had slain and tasted hundreds by now, but numbers meant nothing. A single Lema, burning with true will, was far more satisfying.

“To use involuntary will as material, vast quantities are needed. Enough to make it… familiar. Tiresomely so.”

“W-wait.”

Lema, quick-witted, had already caught on.

“Master, are you saying… that the familiar form you wear now—was made from human sacrifices?”

“…”

Bel gave no direct answer. But her silence was answer enough.

“What do you think Aseras’s body was made of?”

When a calamity promised certain death and agony…
People must have been terrified.

If possible, they would have wished to sleep through it.
And those who wished for such an end were not few. Even those who condemned the idea eventually turned when the time came. In the end, everyone wanted an easy death.

But not all could be chosen. Someone had to remain—
to watch, to resist, to survive,
to protect those asleep and wake them when the time came.

For example—those who had already lived long enough.
Or those who believed their remaining life ought to be burned away for the sake of others.

“…The old ones.”

Bel nodded.

“Yes. I hope that answers you.”

Lema Valkite fell silent after that.

Even if another question naturally rose to his lips, he couldn’t ask it.

And even if he had, Bel wouldn’t have answered.