I Became the Priest of Blasphemy of the Outer Gods

Chapter 98. Rescue Operation (2)

What kind of trap was this?

My mind swiftly ran through several assumptions.

From hypotheses aimed at making me careless to the possibility that Arian had suffered severe brain damage.

“You seem quite startled. Well… I was too. When standing on the same front line in the wilderness, she suddenly handed that to me.”

“What exactly was her condition? Were there any signs of a dent in her head, or did she appear like another being wearing Arian’s skin?”

“… That couldn’t possibly be.”

Cernun looked at me incredulously.

I honestly thought that was more plausible, or at least I hoped it was.

“She was as noisy and lively as she always was. Of course, I’m not saying that was normal.”

“Was there something peculiar about her?”

“I should say… it was rather odd that she was too alright. How could such an incident not affect anyone? But she seemed unchanged, almost too much so.”

Unchanged, indeed…

“Anyway, she didn’t utter a word. And don’t even think of asking, because she couldn’t have written this contract after reporting your identity. Tricks like that aren’t possible with a ‘Geass’ contract.”

The purpose of a ‘Geass’ was to ‘ensure agreements are upheld fairly’.

It was so reliable because ordinary detours or tricks wouldn’t work.

“According to the contract terms, leaking information about me is indeed impossible. It doesn’t seem like there’s any threat either.”

If she broke the contract and attacked me, she would suffer twice the damage in return.

‘What is the intent here? Is she trying to lull me into a false sense of security and then plan a suicidal attack?’

Having been summarily executed by Orders before, I couldn’t afford to trust Arian blindly.

“Although I don’t understand the intent… I’ll sign for now. There’s nothing to lose.”

“Consider it a gesture of goodwill. Otherwise, why offer such terms? You should be glad to have one less problem to deal with.”

I signed the contract and stored it in Gluttony’s subspace.

“Until we get a reply from the Inquisitor, stay at the Academia. Your old room has been cleared, so you can use it.”

However, there was still something puzzling.

“You said I would continue to use the identity of Simon Magus. Didn’t you fabricate that I was killed back then and replaced?”

“I did. Thanks to that, everyone still thinks you’re dead.”

“So, what should I say? Perhaps I was severely injured and returned after recovering in hiding?”

“Thanks for suggesting that yourself. Do it that way. As for sedatives and potions…”

I shook my head.

“I’ve acquired the ability to freely change my body. Sedatives no longer have any effect.”

“Hmm… Understood. I’ll call you once we’re ready.”

With a wave of Cernun’s hand, the door opened.

Leaving Cernun behind, I stepped out and transformed back into Simon Magus after some time.

“Are you going straight to the lodging? You must be tired from the journey.”

“I hardly feel such things now. Since I’m here, there’s something I want to check.”

I headed to the Planetarium—a place where Dominic, a former student of mine, often lingered.

“The room that belonged to a Professor Mayos, if I recall right.”

A weak voice invited me in when I knocked at the door.

Inside, the room was filled with a magically projected night sky.

“Are you Professor Mayos?”

The heavyset man looking at the stars nodded, not even glancing my way. He sat at a table beside him, which had a single flower and a parchment notebook on it.

“I’m Simon Magus.”

“… Simon Magus? Professor Magus?”

Upon hearing my name, Professor Mayos finally looked at me.

His face, full of grief, radiated with melancholy.

“What on earth…? You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Though I was severely wounded and hid away, as you can see, I’m alive.”

Mayos, staring intently at me, lunged unexpectedly for someone of his build.

“How could you be alive?! Why not my student…?”

Mayos crumbled into a heap, letting out a deep sigh and apologizing in a trembling voice.

“Forgive me, Professor Magus. In my grief for my student, I spoke carelessly.”

“Are you still mourning Dominic?”

I realized I might have been too blunt and added some comforting words.

“He was an excellent student, but it’s time to let go. You can’t remain consumed by sorrow.”

“He was the only one who understood me. I won’t ever meet a student like him again. How could I escape this sorrow?”

It seemed Professor Mayos cherished Dominic deeply, succumbing to tears of regret.

“I was the one who sent him away that day! I wanted him to socialize with the aristocrats for a brighter future! Little did I know it would lead to his death….”

I looked up at the stars instead of giving a reply.

I recalled the small orange star that Dominic had discovered.

“I once shared joyful conversations about the stars with Dominic here. A passionate student, indeed.”

“He truly was.”

I wasn’t in particularly high spirits.

A faint, empty sense of loss seemed to wash over me.

Why was I feeling this?

“Did you come to pay respects to him as well?”

I had other matters, but I simply nodded calmly.

“Professor Mayos, have you noticed anything peculiar?”

“Peculiar?”

“Something oddly unusual in the sky, or regarding the movements of the stars… anything of that sort.”

Although the heavens being closed was likely metaphorical, I continued pursuing what I perceived.

Maybe there was indeed an issue with the sky, given how it felt like there were cracks the previous day.

“The movement of stars is meaningless. Their positions are randomly shifted after six months, with no pattern whatsoever—”

“Wait, what?!”

Mayos fixed his gaze on me, startled by my response.

“They move randomly, you say?”

“What’s the problem with that?”

Of course, it was a massive problem.

It was more than the usual orbital shifting.

“The Seven Stars of the Big Dipper show up somewhere entirely different after half a year. That’s why constellations or celestial navigation don’t exist here.”

This randomness must be why Dominic, though curious at first, lost interest.

What purpose did such pursuits hold when the positions change erratically every half year?

‘The night sky was fake or distorted.’

Even in this world, the cosmos couldn’t naturally behave this way—stars placed randomly.

The cause was likely related to the closure of the skies by Zeus.

“Do you know how things were before the Holy War?”

“I wouldn’t know anything from centuries ago, would I? Probably the same as now.”

Seems no one knows such details.

“What about the phenomena of the White Night?”

“White Night?”

I nodded.

The miracle involving the White Night intrigued me, and this topic was what I initially intended to discuss.

“I heard a phrase recently. ‘The darkest star of the brightest night sky.’ I wondered if there could genuinely be a star visible as black during the White Night phenomenon.”

Once the ‘White Night’ keyword was ingrained in my mind, I cautiously delved into its mystery.

Yet, I refrained from using the Enlightenment of the Prophet.

The concept of the White Night itself—knowledge forcefully etched in my mind by an insidious yet expertly camouflaged Outer God—was unsettling.

It wasn’t advisable to pry further into such unknowable figures.

The information concerning them demanded caution, differing vastly even from other Outer Gods.

‘Neither Mary nor Eldritch had any clue.’

Mary had absorbed vast knowledge via Dowol, and Eldritch had cultivated it firsthand as a devoted servant.

Yet neither of them had ever heard about it.

Mayos, seemingly unaltered, contemplated momentarily before shaking his head.

“The White Night isn’t a legitimate phenomenon. It appears due to a priest of that Outer God; it isn’t naturally observable.”

I wondered if Mayos had never experienced genuine natural White Night phenomena.

‘Well, natural White Night occurrences aren’t common. I’ve only seen them on TV back home, never firsthand.’

Additionally, in a realm where even lightning ceased to exist, natural White Nights seemed unlikely.

“A dark star… I’ve never heard of such a thing. A black star isn’t visible, after all. Well, during a ‘White Night’, who knows.”

Mayos scratched his head.

“It’s merely a distortion caused by the miracle of an Outer God. Don’t, under any circumstances, pursue that knowledge if you wish to avoid madness.”

I almost laughed at his warning.

It was far too late for that now.

‘Considering I was the one who incited that White Night.’

It seemed no more information could be obtained.

Before leaving, I requested Mayos inform me if he discovered any strange occurrences with the stars, to which he handed me Dominic’s notebook.

“What is this…?”

“It’s the records of Dominic, observing and sketching the stars. Meticulously documented, in a manner befitting his character. It might help you if you’re interested in stars.”

Mayos gave a bitter smile.

“As his teacher, like me, you’re entitled to it.”

Turning his gaze back to the stars, I left him behind.

The students had disappeared, yet the documents about them accumulated.

“… Quite meticulous.”

Opening Dominic’s notebook revealed pages filled with the stars he had cataloged.

‘A closed… fake sky.’

I reminisced about the night sky I had recently seen.

How it seemed cracked in appearance.

‘If restrictions are lifted and the closed sky opens, revealing a true night sky, what will become of this world?’

Perhaps this realm might reclaim its mythological essence from the past.

“Maybe that day will come when I can truly confront the Gods.”

I was filled with great anticipation for that future.

“Professor Magus!”

Cernun’s voice snapped me from my reverie.

“A rather troublesome issue has arisen.”

Cernun, looking distressed, held a letter in his hand.

“A response came from the Inquisitor. They’re launching an investigation and plan to depart immediately.”

“Isn’t that good news?”

“… Take a look at this.”

Reading the letter Cernun handed over, I was as startled as he was.

“The Inquisitor’s Saintess is coming in person?”

A development that signaled a significant complication in my rescue operation plan.