by Fujino Omori
Her eyes—the same color as her hair—narrowed softly as she looked at Finn.
She was the person who required the most vigilance at that bar, not the owner, Mia. Finn had been warned about her by Loki. While he didn’t rise to the level of being on guard, he chose his words carefully so she wouldn’t notice his conflicted feelings.
“I don’t think I did anything that merits appreciation.”
“Lai and the others have been troubled by Mr. Bell, and you spoke to them about it. Thanks to that, I think they won’t hate him.”
“…”
“Thank you very much,” she continued, showing her feelings for Bell.
It was a side of her that he hadn’t seen once in all the times he’d been to The Benevolent Mistress. She politely bowed with a different sort of grace from the movements on display at the tavern.
It was hard for Finn to accept her frank thanks, given his own feelings. He ended up glancing away reflexively.
“It’s about time for me to take my leave. There are things I have to get done. Pardon me.”
“Okay. Keep up the good work, Mr. Hero.”
Finn had turned to leave, but his feet stopped in their tracks when he heard her.
He turned around, staring at Syr, who was still smiling.
It wasn’t ironic. She meant what she said.
She didn’t notice. No, she does know the relationship between Bell and the others. Finn realized he’d opened his mouth, looking as if he’d seen something strange.
“I’m fighting against Bell Cranell, you know. Are you still cheering me on?”
“Yes. Because Mr. Bell and you are both—” the silver-haired girl responded as she bore a radiant smile.
“The children’s heroes.”
The rain fell from the sky in scattered drops before transforming into a drizzle and pelting one girl’s long blond hair.
On the roof of a building on Daedalus Street, Aiz was standing, staring out at the dungeon town shrouded in rain without really processing her surroundings.
“Aiiiiizuu,” called out the easygoing voice of her patron goddess.
Aiz had already noticed her but didn’t turn around, continuing to look down on Daedalus Street.
“Tiona and the others are worried. They thought you might be broodin’ over something.”
“…I’m sorry,” Aiz managed to say, but she still refused to turn around.
Her back conveyed her desire to be left alone. But Loki didn’t leave—nor did she do anything else. Loki simply stood right behind her.
Aiz opened her mouth, unable to bear the gaze on her back.
“…What do you want?”
“I came to see how you were doin’, Aizuu. Watchin’ the sunset all by yourself,” Loki responded playfully, glancing over in the direction of the base camp. “Seems like Finn’s got some doubts about something, too…but I was more worried about you.”
And then she lowered her voice to a soft whisper. “Hey, Aizuu, you ran into Itty-Bitty and the boy earlier, right?”
“Ngh…”
Right before she’d reported to Finn that Bell had appeared in Daedalus Street, Aiz had run into him while he was with his patron goddess, Hestia.
It had been so sudden that she never got the chance to put her thoughts in order or ask the pale-faced boy anything. Immediately after, Loki had suddenly appeared, and Aiz had obediently followed her instructions to head back to Finn.
Aiz suspected that Loki had intentionally separated them. She was worried about Aiz.
“After that, I didn’t get to ask the kid anything, but I got an interesting story out of Itty-Bitty…Wanna hear?”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Aiz responded tersely, appearing scared to hear the truth from Loki’s mouth.
It seemed that she was only pretending that she hadn’t noticed it herself.
She kept thinking about his expression when he asked her a question. The image of the strange monsters in the Labyrinth District kept running through her head as well. That was the reason Aiz’s heart was troubled even after so much time had passed.
The relief she felt when she saw the black minotaur appear was ephemeral, disappearing as soon as she no longer had to wield her sword and fight.
Right now, Aiz was conflicted.
Loki wasn’t annoyed or sad in the face of rejection. With a short “okay,” she let it go.
“All right, then, how about something else? Let me ask ya about somethin’ that happened a little while ago, Aizuu.”
But she wouldn’t allow Aiz to run from reality, so she switched to a different tack.
“When Itty-Bitty got kidnapped and you were chasing after her, there was an incident in the Beor Mountains where you were helped by, what was it, Edas Village? What do you think of them now?”
Why now of all times? Why bring that up? Why here?
Why are you asking me like this?
Edas Village, a community that worshipped the dragon, established and maintained by the protection of the dragon’s scales, a hidden village of those abandoned by the world.
She’d intentionally forgotten about it, desperately tried to put the memory behind her.
She was struggling to hold on to the determination to wield her sword—and faltering. Aiz couldn’t answer Loki’s question, instead squeezing her hands tightly into fists.
“Aiz…whichever path you choose is fine. That’s your right.” Loki said those words to Aiz’s back as if to test her.
“You’ll destroy yourself if you don’t make the decision for yourself. Worry to your heart’s content.
“If ya listened to us gods now, you’d only be led astray,” she added. “Whatever answer you come to…I’ll still go buy Jyaga Maru Kun with ya.”
Even turning around, Aiz knew Loki was watching her with a faint smile and a kind face.
“Hey, Aiz…that boy’s pretty interestin’.”
As the ripples spread in Aiz’s heart, Loki changed the topic with a cheerful voice. By the boy, she meant Bell.
The goddess put her hands behind her head and cackled childishly. “At first, my only impression was that he was cheeky for choosing that shrimp of a goddess, but…he’s fascinating. A true fool of a child. I can understand why that pervert got interested in him.”
“…?” Aiz finally turned around, her eyes questioning, When you said that pervert, did you mean…?
Loki smiled back, her vermilion hair soaked by the rain, before finally turning away.
“But…I don’t want ya to lose. Not you, Aiz. And not Finn, either.” Leaving those words, Loki got down from the rooftop.
Aiz was left behind, alone with the rain.
“…I…”
As she stared out over the cityscape again, Aiz reflected on Loki’s comment—rethinking, looking back, questioning herself…But she wasn’t able to come to a different answer.
She stuck with her determination, what she had told him before.
That was all there was. That was all there could be.
The young Aiz in the back of her mind didn’t say anything, hanging her head, her bangs covering her eyes, standing there like a ghost.
In other words, that was her answer.
“Finn is…unsure, too…?” Aiz considered, thinking back to her conversation with Loki.
Aiz lifted her eyes to the sky.
If Finn started saying the same thing as Bell, asking about right or wrong and killing or sparing monsters, then—
Aiz would surely turn against them, abandoning herself to the black flame inside her heart.
Night had come. The ashen clouds filling the sky prevented the sunset from breaking through and gradually got darker. Finn opened his eyes in silence. He was in an empty room that he’d borrowed to nap. He pulled aside the blanket and posed a question to the two other people in the room with him.
“How long was I asleep?”
“Exactly one hour.”
“You’d do well to sleep a bit longer…You’ve been worki
ng nonstop.”
The two people in the room responded—Riveria with exasperation and Gareth with a sigh. The pair should have been taking command for him, but they were keeping him company instead. In other words, they were concerned about Finn enough to stay behind. The only saving grace was that they hadn’t said anything to the others in the familia and kept it to themselves.
Finn smiled bitterly and sat up.
“They found a door to Knossos in the southeast area of Daedalus Street. It’s the fourth one we’ve managed to run down.”
“We searched up and down the hidden passage underground. That might be all of the entrances. Whether the other doors connect to the Dungeon…and whether that underground passage is the only connection…we don’t know. As expected, we can’t cover everything.”
“I see…” Finn listened to their report on the edge of the bed.
After making sure that no one else was around, he started to speak again. “Riveria, Gareth, listen up. If my prediction is right, this should cover everything regarding this incident.”
He explained the reality of the armed monsters and Ouranos’s and Hestia Familia’s connection to them, reviewing his deductions to Riveria and Gareth alone—only to those two, his comrades-in-arms and equals.
“…If your theory is true, Ouranos’s goal of trying to hide the self-aware monsters is…”
“Yeah. Given the current situation, he’s definitely trying to get the monsters back to the Dungeon.”
“Big picture…No. In the end, how does Ouranos want this to turn out?”
“Who knows? Something along the lines of people and monsters living together hand in hand or something like that?”
“…That’s absurd.”
Finn’s eyes were half-serious, half-joking when he fired back with his suggestion, and Gareth’s beard twitched as he groaned.
“…Setting aside dreams of reconciliation between people and monsters.” Riveria prefaced her thoughts before continuing. “What about a cease-fire in this one instance…? Wouldn’t it be possible to negotiate with intelligent monsters?”
Use Ouranos at Guild Headquarters as an intermediary to negotiate safe passage for the monsters in exchange for the key. Riveria was bringing up that option as a potential resolution. If the monsters really didn’t have any intention of bringing further harm to the city—which seemed believable, judging from Bell Cranell’s words and actions—then wouldn’t it be possible to contact them secretly to negotiate?
Finn responded, “It’s impossible.”
He denied the very possibility.
“Colluding with monsters in order to get the key might work. But what happens next?”
“…”
“Won’t morale drop in the familia? Will no one be alienated? There are many in the familia who have lost family and loved ones, comrades. Can we really get them to accept the truth?”
“…”
“Will she—will Aiz accept my decision?”
No.
That was exactly why it was impossible.
Riveria and Gareth silently confirmed his assessment. There would undoubtedly be internal conflict in the familia. If it leaked that they had secretly made a deal with the monsters—if they betrayed the others in the familia, Bete would lead the pack rushing to denounce them. The strife between people and monsters ran deep. The word misfortune didn’t even do it justice. It was a tragedy.
If the situation were different, he might have been able to actually consider the option. But it was hopeless. He couldn’t have Loki Familia in disarray with the impending destruction of Orario so near.
“And if we go along with Ouranos’s divine will even once, he’ll hold it over us from then on.”
If they rolled the dice on this chance, once they agreed to a negotiation with the monsters, Ouranos and Hermes would have Finn on a leash.
Gods wouldn’t abide by something so weak as “trust.” They would manipulate the mortals to achieve their goals. If Ouranos knew that Braver, the hero of the masses, made a deal with the monsters, Loki Familia would be blackmailed into his camp.
That would be a serious obstacle to Finn and his ambition—a road to ruin, with only his self-destruction waiting at the end. As soon as it came out that he’d dealt with monsters, it would be the end of Braver.
The populace’s hostility toward Bell Cranell was a perfect example of what was potentially awaiting him.
…Don’t lie, Deimne. He was disgusted with himself.
These were his true feelings but also an excuse for others. The greatest wishes rooted in the deepest crevices of his tiny body were tied to his success as Braver and his ingrained hatred.
Both of Finn’s—no, his parents had been killed by monsters, murdered before his eyes by monsters’ claws and fangs as they’d scrambled to protect their child.
On the same day the monsters had taken his parents, he swore to rebuild the prum race.
If monsters had never existed, Finn would never have been born.
If monsters had never existed, he would’ve lived his life as a cocky child in his small hometown.
Cooperating with monsters would mean turning his back on that day, the beginning of everything.
It would be a denial of Finn’s entire existence.
As for me…As Deimne, that’s the one thing I cannot do.
That was absolute. He couldn’t do something that would negate the hero—Finn.
“…”
“…”
He recognized that Riveria and Gareth were looking at him, worried.
But it wasn’t with sympathy or pity by any means. Like their patron goddess, the two of them had stood by his side as he fought and devoted himself to his ambition. What they felt was resignation and respect.
When it came to his ambitions, he would never seek assistance, unlike when it came to advancing the interests of their familia. He would never hesitate to say that it was his own goal or try to share that heavy burden with anyone else.
Riveria and Gareth would occasionally admonish him, occasionally advise him, and always watch over him—but that was all they could do.
“I understand…I’ll abide by your judgment.”
Riveria was the one who broke the silence.
Beside her, Gareth closed his eyes and nodded.
“…Sorry.”
“Fool.” Gareth snorted. “What are you apologizing for? Your answer was perfectly reasonable. No one said you were mistaken about anything.”
Finn’s response was more realistic than negotiating with the monsters, let alone an absurd proposal like coexistence. Gareth said as much when he tried to apologize.
Looking up, Finn smiled wryly as if to thank his two friends.
“But a secret deal is a nice train of thought. Pretend to negotiate to draw out the monsters and wrangle the key from them by force. That would make things easier. Gah-ha-ha!”
“Gareth…I completely misjudged you. Even if they’re monsters, there’s no way I could approve something so cowardly.”
“It’s a joke, a joke! Sheesh, this is why inflexible elves are just…Even if we were willing to open negotiations, we’d have no choice but to go through Ouranos. And if you’ve any qualms, the eyes of a god will see through it immediately. Even if we wanted, we’d have no way of pulling off a surprise attack.”
Gareth and Riveria started bickering as if a switch had been flipped, intentionally criticizing each other in a joking tone to lighten Finn’s mood. Finn was grateful for their concern, descending into thought to determine their next moves.
“At this rate, there’s no avoiding a clash. Daedalus Street will be the battlefield. In order to get the key, we’ll have to contend with…”
“Hermes Familia…and Hestia Familia? In addition to the monsters.”
The static hit again. The image of Bell Cranell’s face flashed through the back of his mind, which could be due to the fact that he’d just reaffirmed he couldn’t discard his persona as Braver.
&nb
sp; …But that boy didn’t hesitate at all, did he?
That boy didn’t worry about losing everything he’d built up, as Finn fretted.
The people had faith in him; the adventurers had placed their trust in him; he had his social status and honor. He hadn’t considered this in the balance against that monster’s life, had he? Had he committed that folly thoughtlessly and without regret?
Finn couldn’t say for sure, other than one thing: Bell had done it.
He hadn’t cast it aside but protected it—that monster.
If it were Finn, he would have abandoned it.
For the sake of his ambition, Finn would have made the sacrifice, but Bell had thrown away his position as a hero and chosen the path of the fool.
Finn couldn’t do that, as he fought for possibly the most meaningless thing in the world—fame.
That was why Bell Cranell’s behavior was noble.
That was why he was dazzling—to the extent that Finn wished he could be like that, too.
“…I’m surprised. To think I harbored such a destructive desire.”
“Finn?” Riveria turned to him when that slipped from his mouth.
He just smiled, replying, “Nothing,” and looked down at the palm of his hand, laughing at himself.
His right thumb ached like never before.
It was as if it were pleading with him. That train of thought was dangerous. It would be the death of “Finn.”
I know.
He never had the option of taking the wrong path from the start.
Ever since he decided he would become the light of his race, he knew he had to swallow everything for that.
He was aiming to be a man-made hero, a hypocritical hero, a hero of the masses.
Maybe Finn was being narrow-minded.
He would use everything and discard whatever he had to. If that starstruck young prum could see this side of Finn, he would be crushed by disillusionment. That much was certain.
But—
“—I’ll get past this.”
That was Finn’s path, the one he’d chosen long ago when he was a young man like Bell Cranell, the prum adventurer.
There was no more doubt in his eyes. The throbbing in his thumb and the image in his mind disappeared.