The Boy in the City of the Dead

by Kanata Yanagino

  I was. I knew that from living with them.

  “Will, you can spend an age in harmony with the parents who raised you. There will be no need for farewells or sorrow. And once we attain supremacy over this dimension, that will become eternal...”

  He paused, as if to allow me time to reflect on the significance of this.

  “That is my purpose. There is too much tragedy in this world. Death is not beautiful; it is mostly accompanied by pain and fear that defies imagining. Love is not rewarded, rather punished, by the suffering of the loved one and a parting by death. Powerful heroes and noble saints are shunned and killed, precisely because of their power, precisely because of their nobility.”

  — The god of undeath, Stagnate, was once allied with the forces of good. He strayed from that path when he could no longer stand seeing the tragedies of life and death. His desire is to create an eternally stagnated world without tragedy, by turning talented souls of all kinds into the forever undying.

  I remembered Mary’s words. She had certainly said that to me.

  “Do you not think it unfair? This world contains too much tragedy. I would like to put an end to that. I want to make a world that is eternally kind, where the menace of death is no more.”

  His words had a tenderness to them. He probably wasn’t lying. If a world like that could really be created...

  If it could...

  “Come, Will. Make a contract with me, as they did.”

  He produced a chalice and a dagger from somewhere. The chalice was a dull silver and the dagger was plain, but a strong divinity dwelt within them both. Holding the chalice in position, the god of undeath made a shallow cut into his own wrist. His black blood quietly began to fill the chalice up.

  “Drink my blood. Do this, and you can part ways with death.”

  He offered it to me. I guessed that drinking this blood was what made you undead. I nodded. I placed my spear on the ground and stepped toward the chalice as if in a hypnotic trance. Then, with a single motion, I drew my sword and sliced his wrist off.

  His face filled with shock and confusion. Something like a thorny crimson vine snaked from Overeater’s black blade and tangled itself into the wound.

  I felt strength flowing into me from my right hand, in which the sword was held. My tiredness left me, the small cuts I’d taken healed over, and energy immediately began to course through me. Even before my brain had time to understand that this was what restoring life force felt like, my well-disciplined body was bringing back the blade. During a moment of confusion, the ideal strike was not the neck, but a swipe straight across the largest target—the torso!

  The god of undeath groaned in apparent pain. The strike had landed. Direct hit. The crimson thorns tangled into his torso, too. It was working! One last flick—from his armpit up and across to his neck—I was sure that was all I needed—Up—!

  Something pulled my pivot leg with frightening force, and I fell over. The ground hit me hard. I could sense him slipping away. I looked at my leg. A blood-soaked snake was wrapped around it. The snake was slithering out of the chalice which had fallen to the ground along with his wrist.

  Crap. He was hiding backup in a place like that?!

  “Ghh... First the Sage, now you... Treacherous rats...”

  I could hear his voice. The snake was squeezing my leg with a strength unimaginable from its thin body. It gazed at me with its emotionless, vertically split pupils, its fangs dripping with the god of undeath’s blood. The snake hissed. The god of undeath replied while groaning in pain.

  “You may. Attack!”

  At that single word, the snake darted at my neck. I threw up an arm by reflex. The snake coiled around it, and I felt a sharp pain from a gap in my armor. I tried to shake the snake off, but its fangs were sunk firmly into my arm. It had driven its fangs, tinged with the godblood that turned a person into the undead, into my skin. An abnormal chill spread from the wound at a terrifying pace, and I soon felt it in every part of my body.

  My body started to stiffen. I tried to struggle, but my body would no longer obey me. My vision grew blurry. My mind clouded over. Something was wrong with my sense of balance—The ground was wobbling, twisting—

  I squeaked out half a vowel, and fell over. My vision was swimming, but amid the blur I could see the undead pointing their weapons at me. I scratched weakly at the ground and wriggled imperceptibly.

  C-Can’t... let this...

  But I couldn’t move. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t move.

  But I... have to... protect... them...

  My vision grew gradually darker, and I blacked out.

  ◆

  I came to under a starry sky of dancing phosphorescence.

  I took a few glances around before realizing. My hands felt... floaty. Like Gus’s spectral body... hold on, not “like.” That was exactly what this was. I guess I died, then? From an adverse reaction to his blood or something.

  Hmm.

  This place was starting to feel somehow familiar. Like I’d walked through here before. My eyes glanced toward the ground, and I noticed it. What was below me was dark and reflected the stars, like a vast plane of water, and on its surface there was the large, distorted reflection of a faint light, which was coming from behind me.

  I turned to see a figure holding a lantern with a long handle. The figure was wearing a hooded robe that covered its eyes, but I already knew who it was.

  “It’s very good to see you again, god of the flame.” I bowed my head. Memories were starting to come back.

  I’d walked under this starry sky before. This “god of the flame” had shown me the way.

  “...”

  Not much of a talker. If I remembered correctly, not a single word was ever spoken to me before, either. The god of the flame had simply led, and nothing more. But I remembered that walk, that careful walk, always making sure I wasn’t falling behind, and how full it was of caring and affection.

  Some time passed in silence, and I came to another realization. Those weren’t stars that were floating in the darkness. They were worlds. Worlds containing numerous universes, countless stars and infinite planets, moving slowly like stars on a gigantic armillary sphere.

  Freed from the shackles of my physical body, my expanded senses perceived everything. Occasionally, two of the worlds would happen to approach each other, and a faint powder of lights would float from them, and then be absorbed by the other. Though the lights were very faint, I couldn’t think of them as fragile. In fact, I even felt strength from them.

  “What is that...?”

  “The circulation of souls. They pass through worlds, that stagnation not befall all things.”

  A reply came back. For some reason, I didn’t find that surprising. Somehow, I’d felt that the god of the flame would reply to me now.

  “Ah... So that must be how I left my world, and how I came to this one.”

  As I looked up at the starry sky, a puff of lights rose from another world. Weightless yet strong, they twinkled as they drifted to another world. Innumerable worlds drifted like stars in the night sky, and within them, innumerable souls, living, dying, and crossing between. Blinking like heartbeats, circulating like blood. Life being spun like infinite yarn. It was a deeply lonely and beautiful sight.

  “How could I have forgotten this view?”

  This time, the god gave no answer, and wasn’t even making an attempt to lead me anywhere. The figure just stood there, unmoving.

  “I ask you.”

  “Yes?”

  “Why did you reject the invitation of the god of undeath?”

  The god’s question was a surprisingly grounded one. I was expecting to be asked something more abstract, more conceptual.

  “Well, I mean... Hmm.”

  I thought for a bit. Was it going to be all right to phrase it this way? Maybe it would be better to make it sound less... No. It is what it is.

  “I was a shut-in before, in my previous life, as you know. I proba
bly stumbled at something, or something beat the ever-loving hell out of me and my confidence, and I never picked myself back up again. That was no way to live, but I did learn one little thing from going through that.”

  With silence, the god encouraged me onward.

  “There’s a pretty big difference between living and being alive.”

  At least while my body had been biologically active, I had definitely been alive. But if you asked me whether I’d lived... I’d have to give that some serious thought.

  “In my last life, I was only alive. I didn’t have the courage to do anything, and in fact, the thought that I had to be alive for another several decades was crushing me.”

  I still thought of that as its own special type of Hell. Physical pain, you could endure. Getting yourself absolutely stuck in a dead end you couldn’t escape from, and having to be alive there for decades? That you felt.

  “I could only barely remember it, but that slightest memory was enough. That was why I decided that in this world, I was going to live.”

  That vow I’d made in my youngest days... Even now it was my cornerstone, the defining brick around which I was built.

  “In my previous world, I didn’t care about dying, so I never lived. And I never lived, so I wasn’t afraid to die.”

  I didn’t want pain, so I never actively tried to kill myself, but if there’d been a way of easily dying a painless, sleep-like death, I might have taken it gladly. Death had meant that little to me. Life had meant that little to me, too.

  “Devalue one, and the other is also devalued.”

  Gus had said it to me when he first taught me about magic.

  Make the earth, and the sky is also made. Make the good, and the bad is also made. In that case, surely it also held in reverse. There could be no earth without the sky. There could be no good without the bad. Without either, all would be leveled to a flat plane of nothingness. So...

  “I think, if I’m going to live properly, I should die properly, too. No matter how hard or painful it is. Otherwise, I’ll just be going back into that room.”

  That was, essentially, where that god of undeath was inviting me. Proposing that it was okay for me to deny death and live forever was exactly the same as proposing that it was okay for me to shut myself in that room forever.

  “I don’t care what kind of extra incentives he provides, the answer is thanks, but no thanks.” I shrugged and smiled. “I want to live and die as part of their family.”

  The god of the flame nodded in silence. Seemingly, I’d given a satisfactory answer.

  “So, um... Am I dead?”

  “You are not.”

  “Then I’m alive?”

  “Barely.”

  So things were looking pretty bad. I was probably in a death-like state. That was why I’d ended up wandering into this strange place, with its multiversal armillary sphere of circulating souls.

  “Then... Could I ask you to return me there, somehow?”

  “What good shall come of returning? You need but remain to die as you wish.”

  I got the point. I’ll admit it, I probably wouldn’t win. I couldn’t imagine that I could do anything against the god of undeath, not when the undead god blood was already flowing all around my body, and when he was now wary of me and had started to watch my every move.

  In the end, I was me and nothing more. Try as I might, I couldn’t be as cool as one of the heroes in the stories. I could see how it was going to end and it wasn’t going to be impressive: with me being killed as I rolled around pathetically on the ground.

  How badly would it hurt? How much would I suffer? I didn’t even want to think about it. The worst case scenario would probably be getting turned into one of the undead, and being thrown into an eternal prison where I was neither dead nor alive.

  But...

  Even so...

  “I want to be able to protect my family. You know?” Summoning up false courage, I smiled an awkward version of a show-off’s smile. No matter how much I embarrassed or sullied myself, at the very least, I wanted to protect my family this time.

  Maybe after I woke up, a miracle would occur, and I’d be able to squeeze out a draw. If I could at least weaken him just a little bit, the other three might be able to take some measures against him. Then I could protect my family in at least a small way.

  “I decided I was going to return the favor someday.”

  Leaving that unaccomplished was worse than being unable to die. It gnawed at me, brought me suffering. So, god, please put me back.

  “Please.”

  I was kneeling before the god with my head bowed. I hadn’t needed to think about it. The god was silent for some time. I waited patiently in that position for an answer.

  “Thou, William, O world-crossing soul, son of Blood and son of Mary.”

  “Yes.”

  “Knowest thou assuredly the weight of life?”

  “Yes.”

  “And still art thou ready to receive death?”

  “Yes.”

  “Knowest thou assuredly the despair of death?”

  “Yes.”

  “And still wilt thou have compassion on all life that vanisheth away?”

  “Yes.” I answered without raising my head. “Yes. I’ve understood that at last, thanks to your grace.”

  From being in this special place, I was starting to get the picture. Reincarnated souls lost the memory of their previous lives. I, too, had forgotten about this place. It was a necessary measure in order for souls not to be chained to their pasts, for them to establish new selves and new lives. So the reason that I vaguely, just barely remembered my previous life was probably that this god had shown mercy to a pitiful soul full of regret and self-reproach.

  “Thank you, merciful god of the flame, who presides over eternal flux.”

  I didn’t know whether I could communicate it as well as I felt it, but I thanked this god from the bottom of my heart.

  Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for making me Blood and Mary’s child. Thank you for making me Gus’s grandchild. Thank you so much.

  I can never thank you enough.

  “Thine heart speaketh clear. Raise thine head, son of man.”

  I lifted my head at last, and my eyes opened wide.

  “Thou, William.”

  As I looked up, still on my knees, what I saw under the hood of the god of the flame... was the gentle face of a black-haired girl.

  “While thou rememberest that readiness, thou art worthy.”

  Gracefeel’s emotionless expression softened at last, and a kind smile rose to her face. A pale white hand was offered before my eyes.

  “Arise. Vow to me, and let us go together.”

  I took her hand.

  “Till thy life ends and I lead thee again—”

  I went to stand, and at the same time, my consciousness blurred.

  “I shall be thy guardian.”

  ◆

  I woke again, my mind still clouded. I was lying on my back. I could see the cloudy night sky.

  A snake’s teeth were sunk into my arm. Immortal god blood was being poured into me through a gap in my gauntlet. My arm hurt. Really hurt. And it felt hot.

  Heroes surrounded me, all of them undead, layers upon layers of them, vigilantly pointing their weapons at me.

  Beyond them, the god of undeath was laughing, confident of his victory.

  There was clearly nothing I could do. It was a checkmate position, an endgame state. But I felt the strong pounding of my heart. It was still beating, still thumping out its regular rhythm.

  Okay. Then things were going to be okay. A heat like magma inside my chest was gradually pumping around my body in time to my heartbeats. There wasn’t much sensation left in my hands, but I slowly put them together. I’d learned from Mary that this was how you prayed in this world.

  “Gracefeel, who presides over eternal flux.” New power was circulating around my body, like a refreshing breeze. I knew instantly h
ow it was meant to be used, as if it was second nature. “Please, go forth with me.”

  I would choose my guardian deity, and make my vow. Today was the winter solstice. A day of celebration, when children flew the nest. The day they were given the protection of the gods.

  “Benediction?”

  Sensing something strange, the god of undeath’s expression twisted. It was not surprise. It was derision toward meaningless resistance.

  “Hah. As if being able to use that accomplishes anything. Superficial tricks won’t help you now that my blood has been pumped into your—”

  The low growl of a flame igniting interrupted him. White flame erupted from my arm. It wasn’t hot. Instead, I felt that something unholy within my body was being burnt away.

  Okay. I could do this.

  “Stigmata?”

  The badge of honor I’d obtained when I learned about Mary’s prayers—the burns on my arms. My arms had been roasted by the flames of a god.

  “Wait, your body—Just how much holy bread have you been eating?!”

  Though Mary was one of the undead, she had been praying to Mater for my daily bread every single day. Her constant prayers, and her unbreakable heart, had completely upended the god of undeath’s expectations.

  “And I swear this to you, my God.”

  — A strong oath makes it easier to receive protection, but you end up letting yourself in for one hell of a rough fate. I remembered Blood’s words, and forced my mouth into a grin. A rough fate? Bring it. If I could beat the hell out of the god of undeath right here and now, that was a small price to pay!

  “I dedicate my whole life to you! As your blade I will drive away evil, and as your hands I will bring salvation to those in sorrow!” I randomly thought up a strong oath. Somewhere, I thought I heard the god of the flame—taciturn as ever—let out a small laugh. “This I swear on the flame of Gracefeel, goddess of flux!”

  Fires lit up beside me as if in proof. The light from them was a soft, warm glow.

  She didn’t just lead souls after death. I was certain that she shone on all things with souls until the moments of our deaths, whether we realized it or not, tirelessly, constantly, and with quiet love and affection.