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More and more of the village people had gathered in the temple.

“Aaagghhhh! I…/I’m different/stop this/pleeease!”
“Bleh! Bweeeeh!”
“No/No/Nooo! I’ll die/ I don’t w-/I’m-/this isn’t my body!”

In agony, vomiting, and writhing, the villagers clung to the idol and offered prayers to a god that no longer existed, seeking salvation and release from their suffering. Their condition was reminiscent of an undead hazard, where multiplying bloodsuckers swarmed the living, craving their blood.

Even though a prohibition order had been issued by the guards, the frenzied villagers paid no heed to it. The guards couldn’t stop their frantic behavior.

“What’s going on here?”
“Looks like Hapshal’s ‘past’ has overflowed.”

Returning from the underground world to witness this calamity, both Lucella and Ivar frowned.

How many words could you write on a single blank sheet of paper? Even if you wrote them small, there was a limit. If you crammed so many words together that they overlapped two or three times, they would become unreadable.

The temple chief had said that through training, they gained the memories and power of past lives. So Hapshal had probably returned memories with some moderation. But now, with that restraint gone, the memories had poured out and flooded them. They had absorbed the memories of countless lifetimes.

“…The price of desiring eternity, I suppose. A single lifetime should be enough to carry with you until death.”

Ivar took out a roll of tobacco, lit it with a small flint jar, and then blew a puff of purple smoke toward the vacant idol.

“Adventurers! Have you returned?”

At that moment, Dovelo rushed over with a distraught expression.

“What’s wrong?”
“There’s an unbelievable number of monsters gathering near the village! The guards can’t handle them! Please help us!”

Indeed, as Dovelo had said, an astounding number of monsters had gathered. Among them were large ones, small ones, those that walked on the ground, and those that flew in the sky. They came in various shapes and sizes. There must have been over 300 of them, gathered in front of the gate.

Lucella could easily incinerate them all, but an average adventurer would be overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. The flimsy fortifications of the rural village wouldn’t be of much use, and it was enough to devastate the entire village.

However, the monsters didn’t attack. They retreated as the guards atop the gate tower threatened them with bows. They observed from a distance, showing no signs of aggression. It seemed as if merely being there was their sole purpose.

“…Oooo…”
“…Oooooooo…”

The tremulous, mournful cries echoed through the air.

As strange as they were as sounds, Lucella somehow distinguished their words, as if by some supernatural means.

“Help me.”
“Turn me back into a human.”
“Let me see my children.”
“Help me.”
“I’m not a monster.”
“I don’t want to die like this.”
“Why?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

As if stabbed through the abdomen, Lucella felt a little nauseated.

This was the villagers’ ultimate fate. The evil gods governed the monsters, and their believers cycled through their lives as both humans and monsters. Perhaps, while they were human, they forgot their monstrous side, and when they were monsters, they forgot their humanity. These memories had also been unleashed with Hapshal’s demise.

“W-What should we do?” a guard asked nervously.
“I… don’t think anything will happen anymore,” Lucella forced a reply.
“Huh?”

Unless those monsters were coming to die in a fit of desperation, there was no reason for them to fight anymore.

“…When will the Inquisitor arrive?” Lucella inquired.
“It should be tomorrow…”
“In that case, I’ll explain the situation to them at that time.”

Lucella refrained from saying more.

It wasn’t because she was deeply distressed by the situation but because she feared that articulating their helplessness in words might unleash her instincts and lead to an impulsive act of purification.

Was it human arrogance to hold hope for salvation even in the face of something as blasphemous as that? Or was it a convenient form of escapism? She didn’t know. But despite the confusion, Lucella felt that she couldn’t discard that inner turmoil.

As Lucella had anticipated, the monsters ultimately refrained from attacking, and the following day, before noon, the Inquisition arrived.

The Inquisition was tasked with judging heretics, but they also handled situations involving heretics who possessed military power and the aftermath of “contamination” caused by their faith. This time, the situation leaned heavily towards the aftermath.

“Then you will transfer the entire village to a containment facility?”
“Yes, that’s likely the course of action.”

Dressed in white and gold robes, the superficially polite inquisitor continued speaking to Lucella while putting on airs.

“Both the transfer and containment will be quite the effort. The sheer number is one reason, but above all, these villagers… Oh, and the monsters outside too, require medical attention.”

Medical attention, a convenient euphemism. In practice, these villagers were likely viewed as experimental samples for research on how to save people from curses.

After all, even if they were beneficiaries of divine miracles, there was no certainty that they could be saved. Lucella could only pray for their salvation, hoping for the best.

Possibilities existed, even if they weren’t guaranteed.

“Ah,” “Ahhh,” “Ah,” “Ahhhhh…”

The cages swayed and groaned as they were loaded onto the transport vehicle. Clothes covered the cages, and from beneath them, something resembling blood flowed and dripped. Inside were the kidnapped children. They were transported to an appropriate institution, where they might be saved. However, whether the children would find salvation remained uncertain.

“Then we will contact you again later,” the inquisitor said, bowing before departing.

He didn’t delve into Lucella’s role in the destruction of the evil god, but that was expected. He couldn’t say anything about it due to his position. He already knew who Lucella was, that she had become a dragon, and what she had accomplished.

“Why aren’t there any gods on the surface… Are there only messenger angels and devils sneaking around? Have you heard that kind of story before?” Lucella murmured, her voice unsteady.

Ivar replied with a wry smile, “It must be because the ground is the territory of dragons, right? If they descend they’d get eaten. So the gods stay far away, guiding people from distant stars… It’s a fairy tale that everyone hears as a child, even if the temple monks deny it.”

As to when and how that fairy tale originated, it was no longer clear. Both gods who fell and dwelt beneath the earth and gods who willingly descended were rare. Because of that, the truth or falsehood of the story remained unknown, making it a fairy tale that everyone told.

Lucella herself had known about it, but until yesterday, it had been just an ordinary fairy tale, with neither truth nor falsehood.

“When I fought against Hapshal, I was just a… machine in the form of a dragon. Just as living creatures expel poison from their bodies, I was trying to purify the gods and the impurity they created. Whether that was an evil god or not didn’t matter. Even if it had been the goddess and a saint blessed by her, I would have attacked because I was there,” Lucella explained.

Her anger was directed at the gods who polluted the earth. Words like “evil god” or “heresy” were merely human labels, and they didn’t concern Lucella during her battle with Hapshal. She was driven by anger and fanaticism.

Lucella now possessed power beyond human comprehension, and that terrified her. She realized that her uncontrollable power could harm anything in its path, and that uncertainty filled her with dread.

“You stopped at my call, didn’t you?” Ivar objected.
“But whether it will happen next time…”
“You’ll cross that bridge when you get there. Our line of work is like that,” Ivar replied calmly, looking at the sky and then glancing sideways at Lucella. He attempted to take out his pipe but realized he was out of tobacco.

Ivar didn’t care if Lucella turned into a monster seeking vengeance against humanity. He wouldn’t move closer or farther away. Even if he were killed by Lucella in her rampage, he would just sigh and say, “That’s life.” It wasn’t because he cared deeply for Lucella; it was simply his nature.

That’s why Lucella could remain human by his side. To outsiders, he was an invaluable friend. Lucella’s eyes welled up with tears, just a little.

“It’s your fault!” A voice full of contempt was hurled at Lucella.
“Return our eternity!”
“Yes, Lord Hapshal, the one and only eternal being, could never be destroyed!”
“Walk on, heretics!”

Some of the villagers, likely the ones who had been leaders in the human sacrifices, were now being bound and taken away. They would not only face heresy trials but also be subjected to secular judgment, likely handed over to the judicial authorities of the Setulev Kingdom.

The villagers were dragged away, struggling and screaming. A man glared at Lucella with bloodshot eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to return his gaze. She watched in silence.

“Eek!”

Then, the man, in a brief moment of apparent sanity, let out a frightened gasp, forgetting the overwhelming pain of his memories.

He was then hoisted away. Lucella knew she would never see him again.

“Let’s go back. I was thinking of having some booze… Or I guess it won’t be of help. How about getting some ice cream?” Ivar suggested.
“That sounds good, but let’s make sure you actually savor it this time,” Lucella replied.

The high-speed carriage was already prepared. As they climbed on board, the unadorned carriage smoothly set into motion.

The carcass of a dead cicada¹ lay on the ground, its cries exhausted. A bird landed on it and, with sharp talons, picked it up before flying away.

However, that bird, too, would eventually meet its end.

For it was all just a part of the natural cycle.

1. ”Yes!! The cicadas finally died!!” – Silva exclaimed