SWNOVELXO Chapter 38 - Fate Begins to Stir (2)
Translator: Marctempest
Editor/Proofreader: TempWane
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Chapter 38: Fate Begins to Stir (2)
The central temple of Disdel.
In a private chamber prepared solely for an individual, a woman dressed in holy vestments stood.
Her name, exuding an aura of elegance, was Clavia Wel Deira.
She was the High Priestess who governed the sacred city of La Phernia and its surrounding regions.
Before her, the leader of the Holy Knights, Blefer, was making a report.
“We pursued the Red Calamity as instructed. However…”
The Red Calamity, the subject of recent fervent discussions within the Church Nation.
Hearing his words, Clavia showed a faint, ambiguous smile.
“You lost track of it?”
“Y-Yes! I apologize deeply! But please hear me out. We lost it near an inn, but we continued our investigations from multiple angles.”
The High Priestess was one of only three supreme authorities in the Church Nation.
Faced with her solemn pressure, Blefer stammered nervously.
The knights’ investigation covered both overt and covert means, targeting even mercenaries and adventurers sensitive to rumors.
“That’s when we received testimony from an adventurer. Someone named Kelly.”
This hapless adventurer provided information about a recently appeared stranger.
A shocking revelation: that person had aided the Red Calamity.
Clavia rested her chin on her hand.
“So, did you capture this person and the Red Calamity? Judging by the flow of this conversation, I suppose not.”
“Ah, well, that’s…”
Blefer recalled Quellière.
A woman who had aided and defended the Red Calamity.
They had deemed her a heretic and intended to confront her.
“She was an extraordinary mage.”
However, she was not an easy opponent.
He had encountered many mages, but never magic as formidable as hers.
Summoning a blizzard and freezing bodies stiff with just her gaze…
They had anticipated a difficult battle.
But.
“···A proving ground? Are you saying she proposed a ‘Seat of Proof’?”
“Yes, astonishingly so. That is why I came to seek your approval, High Priestess.”
Clavia raised her eyebrows.
A Seat of Proof.
It was a symbolic tradition of the Church Nation, using the national treasure, the Orb of Truth, to distinguish truth from falsehood.
It was never conducted lightly.
The issue at stake had to be critical, and the one seeking proof had to risk their life.
This was an appeal to the gods.
“How intriguing.”
Deploying the national treasure required the High Priestess’s approval.
Clavia’s eyes gleamed with interest.
“Do you suggest we allow it?”
“Yes. The Red Calamity’s resistance is fierce, and the proposer’s skill is exceptional. However, they declared that they would accept the consequences if the proof failed. It’s an easy path to take.”
Convinced by the Knight Commander’s passionate argument, Clavia nodded.
Indeed, that was the case.
If the proof failed, it would all be over, and if it succeeded, it would mean the person was not a calamity.
…Although it shouldn’t succeed.
“I grant permission. Let the Seat of Proof commence.”
Rejecting the ceremony was not a wise choice either.
The title “Calamity” carried such weight that it had already ignited an uncontrollable wildfire.
The High Priestess’s approval.
Blefer expressed his gratitude with utmost courtesy.
“I shall take my leave.”
“Yes, Knight Commander. Have a peaceful day.”
The quiet room.
The spacious, antique chamber felt lonely and desolate for one person.
But for Clavia, loneliness was a remnant of the past.
Her expression suddenly twisted.
“To disrupt my plans like this…”
The serene atmosphere shifted drastically.
The once-dignified woman disappeared, revealing a side consumed by obsession.
At that moment, a voice emerged from somewhere.
“High Priestess.”
“···Adein.”
The source of the voice remained hidden in the shadows.
Even so, Clavia responded calmly.
“Is the proposer the same person you mentioned?”
Her greatest secret as the leader of the Holy Order.
She had received a report from Adein, one of the Seven Apostles, long ago.
The grave content of that report had been deeply etched into her mind but was forgotten amidst a long period of quiet.
However, she had just been informed of the person’s reappearance.
Right before Blefer arrived.
“Most likely. A woman with such characteristics can only be her.”
There could be no one else.
If there were, Adein would be utterly shocked.
“You called her an Apostle of God.”
“She might be, or perhaps even more than that.”
“That is impossible, Adein.”
Clavia narrowed her eyes in disbelief.
Adein bowed his head in embarrassment.
The High Priestess sighed.
“In any case… she’s not an easy opponent.”
The Seven Apostles were her personally chosen elite force.
If someone from that group feared her, then she was a serious threat.
Clavia pondered deeply.
“What could she be?”
No gods remained in this world.
This was a fact unknown to most, but Clavia knew.
Hence, the term “Apostle of God” was a contradiction.
To follow gods that no longer existed…
It was unlike any real calamity.
“Why is she hindering me…”
Clavia clenched her fist.
Whatever her identity, she was an enemy of Clavia and the Holy Order.
She had saved the Red Calamity, who had been nearly captured.
“Even the Red Calamity is truly persistent.”
Nell Sartilla.
Clavia had first encountered her during the demon overflow.
She had been overwhelmed by awe and fascination.
To think such a beautiful yet ominous creature existed in this world.
Her strength was also extraordinary.
If she became an ally… or, failing that, even as a “corpse,” she would be a formidable force.
Thus, Clavia had given her the title “Red Calamity” as an homage.
While everyone else saw it as a derogatory term, Clavia had meant it as praise.
“To trample on such goodwill like this…”
She had believed Nell had the potential to become a true calamity, but it had been a misjudgment.
Did she not realize that harsher measures would now have to be taken?
As Clavia ruminated on her anger, she stared into the void.
“For now, we’ll await the Seat of Proof.”
This woman claiming to be an Apostle of God…
Her confident demand for proof was commendable.
However, whether she could excel as a proponent of proof would be revealed on the appointed day…
*
Meanwhile, at that moment, the Adventurer’s Guild.
The hall, usually noisy with chatter, was now dead silent.
Once the Seat of Proof was mentioned, the Holy Knights had temporarily withdrawn.
As a result, the adventurers were left to deal with the “bomb.”
They stood, unmoving, as if being punished.
“Hey.”
At a corner table.
The only place where voices could be heard was where Nell and I were seated, with a man kneeling before us.
It was Kelly.
“Are you going to answer or not? Damn it-”
“Hiik…! I-I’m sorry!”
His appearance was pitiful.
His lips were torn and swollen, and his face was bruised.
It was all due to the True Ancestor’s retribution.
Crossing her arms, Nell scoffed.
“Did I wrong you in any way?”
Nell, who had regained her composure, was prodding gently rather than making blunt remarks.
She looked down at Kelly with contempt in her gaze.
Kelly’s complexion turned pale.
“No, no! Not at all!”
“Then why did you report it to the knights? Do you perhaps have a condition where you want to eliminate anyone you owe a debt to?”
Kelly was one of the lives Nell had saved during the flood.
Thinking about it made her blood boil, and veins popped on her temple as she raised her voice.
“I understood, even without a word of thanks. I know my curse, too. Gratitude is too much to expect, right?”
“No… that’s not…”
“But you know.”
Nell’s foot shot out suddenly.
“Gasp!”
Her sleek, bare leg.
The tip of her foot lightly tapped Kelly’s cheek.
“You can’t backstab someone like this. Right? Isn’t that right?”
“Y-yes… it is.”
“Is it?”
It was practically treating him like a beast.
This seemed to be Nell’s way of openly displaying mockery and scorn, but didn’t the situation feel oddly familiar?
Her gaze was sharp enough to pierce, and Kelly trembled uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry! I was wrong! Please… just this once… please forgive me…”
He pleaded earnestly for mercy, but Nell merely smirked.
Brimming with pent-up resentment, she toyed with him.
“What did you do wrong?”
“Wh-what? That’s… reporting you to the knights without permission…”
“Why did you report me?”
“Because… I was afraid of you… terrified…”
“I saved your life. Why would you be scared of me?”
“Uh… uh… s-sister!”
Unable to endure anymore, Kelly turned to Sigina for help.
She glanced between him and Nell before finally looking at me.
A subtle and complicated smile appeared on her lips.
“…You’re going to let him live, right?”
“S-sister!?”
Kelly was despairing.
Nell nodded, revealing her fangs, and licked her lips a little more.
By the time Kelly’s face turned as white as a sheet, Nell kicked him aside and spun around to sit down again.
Her eyes sparkled as she looked at me.
“Now, shall we hear it?”
Her tone, as she casually tossed out the words, lacked malice.
But there was a distinct curiosity flickering within.
“Who are you?”
“Quellière.”
I responded thoughtlessly.
The anger she showed as one of my creations clashed with the distaste I felt toward the annoying characters.
It was such an amusing situation.
“I know your name.”
Nell furrowed her brows.
“Why are you helping me? No, before that, how do you… know about me, about what I am?”
A question about her identity.
It was likely the fundamental enigma she’d carried since the moment she gained awareness.
I understood, and frankly, the answer was simple.
This is a game world, and I created you.
One sentence could explain it all.
But it was unbelievable, and it wasn’t something she should believe.
“Your species is a vampire.”
“A… vampire?”
“Yes. If you don’t like how it sounds, you can call it a vampyr.”
“Vampyr…”
Whether it was the first time she’d heard either term, she rolled her eyes.
Her puzzlement was plain to see.
Since this was something I would reveal later in a moment of proof, it was fine if she, the subject herself, learned early.
The venom in Nell’s gaze was gone.
She cautiously, very cautiously, asked.
“What… is that? What do they do?”
“They drink blood, favor red, and have pale skin.”
I looked at her as she swallowed hard.
Details about a race no one knew spilled from my lips.
“They dislike garlic, are weak to silver, and are fatally vulnerable to sunlight.”
“…Huh?”
Nell, who had been quietly listening, blinked in confusion.
“I’m fine in sunlight, silver does nothing to me… though I do dislike garlic.”
Of course.
I nodded.
“That’s because you’re a progenitor.”
“A progenitor?”
“Yes. The highest among vampires.”
The progenitors, often described as the originals or the prime, were an overpowered race that ignored nearly all the weaknesses of vampires while further amplifying their strengths.
“I’m… the highest?”
Nell’s mouth fell slightly open.
Her eyes widened greatly.
“The progenitor is the leader of the clan. You could say they’re the ruler of vampires.”
“A… ruler.”
Her cheeks turned red.
Judging by her labored breathing, she seemed quite excited.
She repeatedly muttered phrases like “I’m the best… the leader…” under her breath and raised the corners of her lips.
“Hmm. Hmm. Naturally. I always thought I wasn’t ordinary. Even when I wandered the back alleys, there was a certain… dignity? Allure? Something like that.”
Though she boasted as if it were a given, the trembling corners of her mouth betrayed her.
I looked at her with pity.
This must be the first time she’d received such treatment.
She must have endured so much hardship.
While muttering to herself, Nell seemed to remember something and quickly turned her head.
“If I’m the leader of the clan, where is my clan? I’ve never seen another of my kind.”
“That’s…”
I hesitated.
A clan? Of course, there wasn’t one.
I created a race that didn’t exist, so Nell was the only vampire.
However, a progenitor could create their kind through vampirism.
If she wished to, that is.
But she had likely been targeting irredeemable trash out of her convictions and beliefs.
She wouldn’t have wanted such scum as her allies.
“I don’t know.”
I decided not to tell her.
If more vampires were created, it would only lead to chaos.
I played dumb with confidence.
“…What?”
“They might exist, or they might not. Find out for yourself.”
“Huh… hmm…?”
Nell, who had been darting her eyes around, leaned back in her chair and sighed in frustration.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re trying to take it all and then some, no wonder you’re in trouble.”
“Ha… Pfft. You’re right about that.”
Her face lit up with a mix of relief and joy.
It seemed my words had given her a great deal of strength.
I found myself smiling as well.
It didn’t feel bad to shine a ray of hope on someone you care about.
As Nell savored the moment, I broke the silence.
“The proof will succeed.”
“Ah… Proof. I was so surprised earlier. I didn’t expect to see the person proposing that ceremony in front of me.”
The weight of a ceremony using a divine artifact within the Church Nation was enormous.
Who would dare propose it lightly?
“It will succeed.”
I repeated myself.
Nell searched my gaze and then gave a bitter smile.
“I really appreciate that… but it won’t mean much. Even if the proof succeeds, the curse remains. People hating me won’t change.”
“The curse has a solution.”
A calm denial.
Nell tilted her head as if mulling over my words, then froze.
“…What?”
The single word she managed to utter carried a multitude of emotions.
It was time for her suffering to come to an end.
I declared it firmly.
“Once the proof is over, I’ll bring it back.”
*
The Spirit Ruins of Roblock, a metropolis.
The site, conquered not long ago by a certain woman, was now home to numerous subsidiary research labs.
In front of the largest lab stood an imperial carriage.
“His Highness, the Crown Prince! Everyone, show proper courtesy!”
Escorted by the royal guard, Captain Hiloze bellowed loudly.
This included not only the lab’s servants and attendants but also senior researchers.
Representing them, a man kneeling at the forefront was questioned by Artan.
“Is Sir Agnatz inside?”
“Y-Yes, Your Highness! Shall I summon him?”
The man was Petras, a senior researcher and a disciple of Agnatz.
As he hurried to act, the main door of the lab creaked open.
All eyes turned toward it.
A dignified man with a beard stood in the doorway.
Adjusting his monocle, he was revealed to be the theologian, Agnatz.
“Has His Highness the Crown Prince arrived?”
There was no sign of fluster.
He gave a light nod of acknowledgment.
That was all.
He didn’t bow, kneel like his disciple, or even offer a word of praise.
Yet, no one reproached him.
“…Sir Agnatz.”
“Please, come inside.”
The Crown Prince followed the elderly scholar leading the way.
He thought about Agnatz.
Formalities were meaningless.
This old scholar had contributed immensely to the empire since the previous emperor’s era.
The royal guard remained on standby, leaving only Captain Hiloze to follow Artan.
“This place has a vintage charm, Your Highness.”
“Indeed, it does.”
Compared to other labs, this one had a retro feel.
Despite its size, the interior was sparsely staffed and filled with drawers and workstations.
All of it carried the scent of the old.
The group stopped before the great door leading to the depths of the lab.
Instead of opening the door, Agnatz turned to the Crown Prince.
“Fascinating research requires as much time and effort as needed.”
His words seemed somewhat abstract.
“However, researchers are creatures who prioritize efficiency in everything.”
It was a statement cutting off unnecessary small talk.
Understanding this at once, Artan got straight to the point.
“I want the Spirit Armor.”
“…I see. Even His Highness has taken an interest.”
There was no sign of agitation.
The masterpiece of Agnatz, the “Spirit Armor.”
It was the result of a decade of relentless research and exploration.
Thanks to intriguing individuals and clues about spirits, those days had been challenging but joyous.
“Do you wish to borrow it? Or claim ownership?”
“I don’t ask for it to be transferred permanently.”
“Hmm…”
Agnatz fiddled with his monocle.
A storm of thoughts swirled in his mind.
A Crown Prince wasn’t just any position.
With many responsibilities and countless people seeking him, his time was invaluable.
And yet, he had come here suddenly, suggesting the matter was highly significant.
But a new invention?
Agnatz posed a reasonable question.
“Where do you intend to go?”
“…!”
At the sharp question, Artan flinched.
Agnatz nodded inwardly.
The Spirit Armor’s effect was “strong elemental resistance.”
It was an incredible ability, and immense resources had been poured into it.
However, if it were merely for court displays or ornamental use, the Crown Prince would not have come in person.
Unless he intended to use it himself.
“…As expected, you figured it out. I’m impressed.”
Artan gave a bitter smile laced with admiration.
He decided it was useless to hide the truth and revealed his intentions.
“I plan to cross the Ice Mountain Range.”
“…What!?”
Even Agnatz, usually composed, was visibly startled by the shocking declaration.
His eyes, as large as saucers, blinked rapidly before he returned to his dignified demeanor.
“…That will surely cause an uproar.”
For the Crown Prince to venture into the Demon Realm.
The entire empire would be thrown into turmoil.
Artan’s meaningful smile deepened.
“It would, if you were to reveal it.”
“…”
A subtle barb.
Instead of reacting, Agnatz stroked his beard.
“I don’t engage in such inefficient actions.”
“I expected nothing less from you.”
Artan’s expression stiffened as he posed a question.
“Is it possible?”
“As your vassal, I should refuse. But I doubt you’ll abandon this plan just because I oppose it.”
Agnatz had a broader perspective.
He narrowed his eyes, full of wrinkles.
“Your Highness is determined to reach the Demon Realm by any means necessary, isn’t he?”
“…You’re truly different from those other pedantic scholars. You’re absolutely correct.”
Artan laughed freely.
Pretending ignorance after having his intentions so accurately discerned would have been disgraceful.
He considered what further arguments he could make.
But it wasn’t necessary.
“I will grant it.”
Agnatz agreed without hesitation.
As Artan began to speak, a faint rumbling echoed through the hallway.
The grand doors slid open.
The core of the laboratory. Its innermost chamber.
There, a gleaming suit of armor was displayed.
Artan and Hiloze stared at it in awe.
“I plan to produce additional units, so consider this one a contribution to the royal family.”
“…I will remember this.”
Before anyone realized, the armor was in the Crown Prince’s hands.
He felt indebted.
The Spirit Armor was spotless, not a speck of dust upon it, and exuded a mysterious aura.
As Artan stared blankly, Agnatz offered a warning.
“The Ice Mountain Range is a Demon Realm that even legendary heroes could not conquer. Even the Four Heroes of Winter, renowned for their trials, merely avoided it and reached the Snowfield.”
From the perspective of the Demon Realm, humans were not conquerors but unwelcome intruders.
Agnatz pondered another question.
His words, when spoken, were as sharp as a blade.
“Are you intending to meet someone there?”
“…!”
A question that struck at the core.
Artan was more shocked than ever before.
His reaction was answer enough.
If conquest were the goal, he wouldn’t need to travel so discreetly.
Even if it were for hunting, the eastern edge was too far.
So, it must be a meeting.
Of course, the Demon Realm was hardly a suitable place for such an encounter.
But add one more clue.
For example, if connected to the Crown Prince’s painting “Landscape of Regret.”
If Agnatz included that piece from the exhibition he was invited to, a pattern emerged.
“If someone lives there, they’re likely not human.”
His tone was as casual as if discussing the weather.
The old man’s eyes glinted coldly.
“Perhaps… we should call them ‘Winter.'”
“──!”
Artan gasped.
This time, he was more shaken than ever, unable to find the words to respond.
In desperation, he exclaimed.
“Do you know something?!”
“No. As a mere scholar of the physical sciences, I am ignorant.”
Agnatz shook his head.
But faint memories from ten years ago surfaced.
The desperate words of a disciple who had rushed to him, the deciphering of ancient texts.
And the painting “Landscape of Regret” by the Crown Prince.
The disappearance of “that woman” ten years ago.
Ten cycles of the sun and the boy’s growth.
The Crown Prince sought a figure buried in the recesses of memory.
“It might be… a certain bond or fate.”
A hoarse voice escaped him without realizing it.
Like winding a spring within a clockwork mechanism, vitality returned to his body.
A desire to see where this machinery led surged.
“Agnatz!”
On the other hand, the young Crown Prince’s gaze blazed.
It was a flame that wouldn’t extinguish easily.
The old scholar offered no response, only genuine advice.
“Do be careful. The seasons are never kind to humans.”