Kaleidoscope (2)
The battle between the two Outer Gods lasted far longer than expected. The Dark-Side Priests waited nearby, simply hoping for this catastrophic duel to end.
Crimson lightning repeatedly stained the sky red. And the singing—unceasing, echoing…
Fleeing the uproar, all life-forms in the surrounding region had run away. Thanks to that, the Dark-Side Priests were able to camp in relative safety.
"It's already the fourth day… and it still doesn't look like it's ending, does it?"
A young man muttered in puzzlement.
The last time they had seen the clash, the Nine Roses appeared to be overwhelmingly pushed back. They had assumed it would conclude soon. Yet for some reason, the duel between the two Outer Gods had continued for days.
As if having heard him, a woman sitting by the campfire murmured to herself:
"He who is bewitched by the scent of roses… shall suffer the sharpness of their thorns."
"…What kind of nonsense is that all of a sudden?"
"Heehee… hehehe…"
Instead of answering, the woman giggled and hummed to herself, looking half-crazed. The man let out a deep sigh.
"Damn it… This is why it's a loss to even speak with followers of the Rose."
The fanatics who worshiped the Nine Roses were all out of their minds. Even the Dark-Side Priests avoided associating with them.
It was common for sects to split within a religion. The followers of the Nine Roses had their own independent temple and doctrine.
'If it weren't for circumstances like this, we wouldn't have asked those lunatics for help.'
Since they needed to enter the Rose's domain, they had no choice but to request cooperation. Once this was over, he swore never to deal with that madwoman again. With that thought, the man gnawed on preserved rations.
Bread as hard as stone. As he chewed on the corner like a rat—
Suddenly, silence fell.
"…Is it over?"
He muttered and looked up at the sky. The crimson-stained storm clouds were gradually returning to their original color.
The duel between the two Outer Gods had ended.
Sensing it, the Dark-Side Priests rose from their seats. The prolonged battle had ceased, entering a lull. They planned to confirm the result and then return.
"We'll enter through the same route we used before. Be careful not to make any noise."
The elderly priest led the way. The Dark-Side Priests followed cautiously. Before long, they arrived once more at the place where the two Outer Gods had clashed.
What greeted them was a landscape as if swept by disaster.
Collapsed mountains and torn-up forests. Numerous circular craters pockmarked the land. At the center of each ruin was a charred black mark—the traces left by the dragon's thunderbolts.
Rose petals were scattered all across the ground. The lush crimson petals looked like blood spilled by someone.
"Ugh… Goddess…"
The woman collapsed to her knees, trembling. She hurriedly gathered the fallen rose petals. She could not leave the holy blood spilled by her goddess behind.
The other Dark-Side Priests looked at her with pity. Judging by the blood-like stains scattered everywhere, it was clear—the Nine Roses had lost the duel.
A fanatic who has lost her god becomes even more dangerous. Like a wounded beast.
"Let's leave her be… and continue investigating on our own."
The elderly priest suggested. The others silently agreed, leaving the woman behind as they advanced deeper.
The further in they went, the greater the destruction became. The craters were even larger than before. Perhaps the Nine Roses' injuries had worsened—petals brushed against their feet with every step.
Soon…
They came upon a crimson hill. A mound formed by countless piled rose petals. Beneath it lay a massive shape.
The elderly priest felt it instantly.
"It's the corpse of an Outer God."
The Nine Roses had been slain.
To confirm it, the priests approached the mound. The elderly priest carefully brushed aside the petals.
And what he saw—
"…W-what is this…?"
His eyes widened. Stammering, he staggered back, legs giving out as he collapsed.
It could not be helped.
Buried beneath the petals was the dragon's corpse.
The Dragon of Heavenly Punishment.
It was not the Rose that had lost the duel—it was the dragon. The very Outer God the Dark-Side Priests revered with all their hearts. Realizing this, the elderly priest fell into despair.
"No!! This can't be—!"
The old man wailed in grief. The other Dark-Side Priests sank to their knees as well, unable to believe their eyes. None of them had imagined such a result.
…But there was one exception.
"Heehee… hehe…"
The woman approached, humming—whether it was a tune, a sob, or laughter, none could tell.
The follower of the Rose was not particularly shocked. She had never believed her goddess could lose to some lizard.
Instead, she wept tears of joy at obtaining roses that were like her goddess's sacred blood.
"O noble Rose… the holy body you have left behind shall become a sacred relic of our order."
She murmured to herself while scooping up petals, humming happily. Her expression sharply contrasted with those around her.
The enraged Dark-Side Priests glared at her insensitive behavior, but the priestess paid them no heed, busy with her own task. There were simply too many petals piled atop the dragon's corpse.
Then—
"…What is this?"
She tilted her head.
As she brushed away the petals covering the dragon's body, something unexpected caught her eye.
She turned to the Dark-Side Priests.
"This mark. Did you carve it?"
"…What are you talking about?"
"Come closer."
She beckoned them over. The priests hesitated but approached.
"Look at this part."
She pointed to the dragon's neck.
There was a large wound carved there. A long, clean gash. The cut was so straight it looked as though a ruler had been used to draw a line.
As if—
"It looks like it was beheaded with a sword."
At her words, the elderly priest recalled what he had seen earlier.
Crimson lightning falling. The world illuminated in that brief flash. Between the two Outer Gods stood a man, holding a sword.
He killed our god.
The elderly priest rose unsteadily, eyes bloodshot as he looked at his subordinates.
"Search the area."
They had to find that blasphemous being.
Obeying the command, the Dark-Side Priests scoured the surroundings thoroughly. But their efforts yielded nothing.
No matter how much they searched, they could find no trace of a human. That was only natural. The depths of the Demonic Realm were so dangerous that even the Dark-Side Priests could not tread lightly.
A young priest grumbled:
"That old man… maybe he's senile and imagined it? A person between two Outer Gods?"
Perhaps witnessing the death of the god he revered had finally driven him mad.
Another priest snapped back:
"Watch your tongue. The High Priest has served for many long years as the Gatekeeper of the Night."
"Did I say something wrong?"
The young man grumbled and added,
"Let's say, for argument's sake, that what the High Priest saw was real. And let's say we actually find that human. Wouldn't that be a problem in itself?"
"Why?"
"Why? Damn it… he's the one who chopped off the dragon's head. What could we possibly do against a monster like that? The moment we face him, we're dead. Isn't that obvious?"
At that, another priest gave a slight nod. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense.
"…Let's just look around a bit more and head back."
"Sounds good."
They couldn't go any deeper anyway. The further inward one went in the Rose's domain, the stronger the spider demonic beasts became. Advancing beyond this point would be tantamount to suicide.
After roughly surveying the area, the Dark-Side Priests returned to where their superior was.
The state of the High Priest they encountered…
…did not look good.
Scratch, scrape.
The elderly priest was drawing something on the dirt. Centered around the dragon's corpse, he was inscribing a massive magic circle.
He turned his head toward them.
"…Did you find the god-slayer?"
"Well… no matter how thoroughly we searched, we couldn't find any trace of a human. It seems we missed him."
The young man mumbled his excuse.
The High Priest's eyes grew colder.
"You failed your task and still dare to show your faces… Search again. If you return empty-handed once more, I will punish you."
"…Understood."
The Dark-Side Priests withdrew.
The High Priest watched their retreating backs with displeasure before returning to his work. He dipped his index and middle fingers into a potion and used his fingertips to complete the magic circle.
Focused entirely on the spell, the old priest was defenseless. If a demonic beast attacked now, it would be dangerous—but no such misfortune occurred.
The scent of the dragon's corpse and the blood spilled by the spider queen had terrified the surrounding beasts so thoroughly that none dared approach this area.
Thanks to that, the magic circle was completed without interruption. After drinking several potions to fortify himself, the High Priest began chanting.
"Glacies, Aeterna!"
At the incantation, the magic circle carved into the ground shone brilliantly. From its center, a vortex of chilling frost rose.
Crack—crrrk—
The dragon's corpse turned pure white as it froze solid. It looked like a sculpture carved from ice. Immediately afterward, having exhausted all his strength, the High Priest collapsed weakly to the ground.
He had forced himself to cast a spell beyond his capacity. As a result, his face appeared to have aged decades in an instant.
But the spell had succeeded.
'Immutable Freeze.'
A powerful freezing spell. The dragon's corpse would not thaw for at least two or three years. It was frozen so solidly that brute force could not shatter it.
The High Priest had cast this spell to prevent the dragon's body from decaying.
'The Outer God will return to our side.'
The miracle of resurrection.
It was said that among the saints of ancient times, there had been those who accomplished such miracles. Compared to them, their Outer God was far more powerful and magnificent. The Dragon of Heavenly Punishment would surely revive and return to the priests.
To prepare for that day, his body had to be preserved perfectly.
The High Priest believed this with all his heart.
'We must move this sacred body to our temple.'
But the dragon's corpse was enormous and heavy. It was impossible for only six people to transport it.
'…No, five.'
The priestess who worshiped the Nine Roses had already left. After gathering all the rose petals, she returned to her own temple as if she had no further business here.
'Sharp-witted woman.'
He had intended to butcher her as an offering to console the soul of the fallen dragon—but he had missed the opportunity.
He would have liked to track her down, but they had no time for that. Instead, the High Priest sent a messenger to the priests' sanctuary to request reinforcements.
Before long, additional Dark-Side Priests arrived. The death of one of the Outer Gods they served was a catastrophe of immense magnitude.
"A–aaagh—!"
Upon seeing the dragon's corpse, the arriving priests screamed in anguish. They mourned deeply and personally carried the majestic, sacred body back to their temple.
They waited for the frozen Outer God to awaken and return to this land…
But months passed, and no change came to the dragon's body.
Of course it didn't.
It was nothing more than a corpse whose life had already ended.
The High Priest grew increasingly anxious.
'We must revive our god.'
But how?
As they pondered this, the priests noticed a critical flaw in the dragon's body.
'…There is no core.'
The being who had hunted the dragon had taken its inner core—the core that contained the authority of Heavenly Punishment and its crimson thunderbolts.
For creatures of the Demonic Realm, the inner core was as vital as a heart.
Without replacing it, their Outer God could never return to them.
Reaching that conclusion, the High Priest gathered the priests and began researching ways to acquire a core worthy of that body.
They inserted various cores into the dragon's corpse, but none yielded results. The cores they could obtain were far inferior to that of an Outer God.
After much deliberation, they arrived at a conclusion.
"…Let's try using a grotesque's core."
Grotesque cores grew larger the more they were fused together, and they possessed a unique regenerative property. If they utilized that trait, perhaps they could revive the dragon.
Acting on that judgment, the priests hunted numerous grotesques and extracted their cores. After months of merging them, the fused core had grown enormous.
Seeing it, a young priest muttered,
"…Are we sure this is safe?"
But few paid attention. A fanatic who has lost his god becomes even more dangerous than before.
Thus, the grotesque core—swollen endlessly in size—became as large as a boulder.
'The preparations are complete.'
So they concluded.
They forced the grotesque core into the corpse of their Outer God.
The attempt resulted in a horrific success.
The dragon slowly opened its eyes.
…and from those eyes, black, rotting pus flowed like tears.
"GRAAAAAAARGH—!!"
Roaring at the top of its lungs, the dragon-grotesque exhaled toward the priests. From its maw poured a poisonous miasma like storm clouds.
"R–run!"
"Aaaagh!!"
Screams erupted everywhere. The bodies of the priests engulfed in the miasma began to melt…
…and gradually were reborn into new forms.
Mutant grotesques.
Thus, the wish of the Dark-Side Priests was fulfilled.
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