Chapter 54: The Weight of a Roll

Of course, there was no need to think that far ahead yet.
The journey would likely take longer than he was imagining anyway. And sometimes, when he begged not to be cast aside, his master had shown a measure of mercy…

What felt strange, however, was that even though he knew such thoughts were meaningless, Lema Valkite found himself dwelling on what lay beyond.

If the world really were to be destroyed, then by that time there wouldn’t even be a trace left that someone named Lema Valkite had ever lived.

It wasn’t about the current journey to find the summoner, nor the fact that once they did, his position might become unstable. What kept bothering him was what came after.

“Master.”

In other words—
After all of this was over.

“Is there… anything you yourself wish to do?”

“I have to destroy the world, as the summoner wished.”

“But strictly speaking, that is the summoner’s will, not yours, is it not?”

“……”

Bel did not answer right away.

“If I may ask… why do you entrust your will solely to the summoner?”

“Standards change from age to age. If I stubbornly cling to an old standard, it only causes confusion.”

It wasn’t a false answer. Strictly speaking, it made sense.
And yet, Lema still couldn’t quite understand.

Even if standards changed with the times, could she not simply adapt and live by them as they shifted?
If there was no summoner, could she not live by the will of the god she was herself?

To Lema, this was unfamiliar. The Luxlon faith was absolute—everything centered around God, with humans as nothing more than servants. The doctrine claimed to “serve humanity,” but in truth, everything valuable was only so because it had been given by God.

Belmias, in contrast, felt like the exact opposite of Luxlon.
If anything, she seemed to grant humans themselves a kind of meaning.

“Must it truly be that way?”

“……”

Bel didn’t answer.
But sometimes silence is an answer.

To Lema, it felt like an affirmation.
That yes—she must.

Though he had no idea why.
Perhaps the question itself had been inappropriate, coming from one who was not even a summoner.

He thought to rephrase—when Bel finally spoke, after a rare pause:

“Well… I’ve never thought about it. This is the first time I’ve gone so long without meeting my summoner. The first time I’ve taken someone who wasn’t my summoner, and received offerings from them…”

It was, for Bel, a kind of emptiness she had never experienced before.

But why grant human wishes at all?
At first, Lema had thought of her only as his god. But the more time passed, the more curious he became about Belmias herself.

Surely these thoughts weren’t blasphemy. He only wanted to understand his master better—there was no hidden intent.

“Since when… have you been granting the wishes of humans?”

“Since the beginning.”

“From the beginning…?”

Lema was about to ask further when Bel’s meaning suddenly dawned on him.
Because someone had asked the same question before—Beata Mirgas.
And Bel had answered then:

—“Since the day that moon fell from the sky.”

The second moon’s name… had been Belmias.

What connection was there, exactly?

“Lema.”

“Yes?”

Lost in thought, Lema snapped back to awareness.

“What are those?”

Bel was pointing ahead. Lema turned his gaze—
And before he could even register what he saw, a sound reached his ears.

“Hiik! Hii… hiiii… hrrrghhh…”

A man stood drooling, eyes vacant, laughing madly at nothing.

“What nonsense are you spouting?!”

“You killed so many people and now walk around in groups like nothing happened?”

“We didn’t do it!”

“Don’t lie! Then why is he with you?”

“What could drive him so far he’s lost his mind completely…”

“We told you, he was like this when we found him! We were protecting him!”

“How are we supposed to believe that?!”

The vacant man stood amidst one group, while another group confronted them with weapons drawn.

“Luxlon priests and holy knights?”

“Seems so. What are they doing here?”

“They often send people to places like this. The arena must be close.”

To Luxlon’s faithful, anywhere beyond their order’s reach was lawless territory. But the holy city of Lucilonia made efforts to improve such places.

Each year they dispatched Apostles to cleanse regions overrun by monsters, and even knights or priests without special powers would establish welfare posts to maintain order in dangerous lands.

“It seems the news of the arena reached them as well. Maybe they intend to interfere. Their opponents look like wandering thugs.”

“Hm.”

The smaller group were the Luxlonians. Their enemies—thugs with murderous intent in their eyes—clearly bore grudges.

“What will you do, Master? Will you help them?”

“Which side?”

Lema instinctively thought of aiding the holy knights. None among them was an Apostle, their numbers were few, and they looked fresh out of training.

But… he was no longer one of them.
Perhaps nostalgia had made him think that way.

“……”

Normally, his role was to interpret the summoner’s will—to advise Bel on what to do. That was what Bel expected of him.

If left to a summoner’s intent, the cruelest option would be to let the two sides fight, then strike down the survivors. That was the most “evil” choice Lema could imagine at this stage.

And yet… why?
Why didn’t he want to honor the summoner’s intent now?
Why did he feel this odd urge to resist?

No—was it even resistance?
After all, Lema Valkite had never sworn loyalty to a summoner’s will.
His loyalty was to Belmias.

And so, he wanted to know Bel’s own decision.
Swallowing nervously, he spoke—unsure why it made him so tense.

“Simply… whichever side you desire.”

“……”

Bel did not decide.
And perhaps she never would.

The only real preference Lema knew of was that Bel refused to devour women. If the group had been only priestesses, perhaps his decision would be different.
But here, that seemed to matter little.

As he stared at Bel’s impassive profile, Lema suddenly had an idea.
Hesitantly, almost casually, he suggested:

“If it’s difficult to decide… would you like to use the dice?”

“The dice?”

Bel’s black eyes turned toward him.
Lema’s chest fluttered strangely under that gaze.

“If the number is low, we help. If it’s high, we don’t. Divide six in half—lower side helps, higher side refuses.”

“……”

Bel’s dark eyes lingered on him for a long moment.
At last, she reached into his pocket, drew out the dice she’d kept—

—and rolled it.

The die spun with a rattling sound across the ground.
And soon… it came to a stop.