Bluesteel Blasphemer Volume 1

by Ichirou Sakaki

  “I’m... uninjured,” Dasa answered plainly. She had never been very expressive to begin with, but after the death of her older sister Jirina, she had become even more doll-like. She seemed quite indifferent about herself, so if Yukinari didn’t ask, she was liable to stay silent, even if she was seriously injured.

  “And you, you okay as well?” Yukinari asked the girl as he tore the chain from the stake.

  “Ah—h—” The girl made a small sound of surprise. Her voice was full of bewilderment and hesitancy, and there wasn’t much of a sense of joy at being released. Or perhaps she was simply still shaken up from having had such a close-up view of that last battle.

  “What? You don’t enjoy being chained up, right?”

  The girl didn’t respond. Still sitting on the ground, she looked up at Yukinari’s face. For a while, her expression swung between surprise and fear, but eventually she began to nod her head firmly, as if she had convinced herself of something.

  “Yes... Yes, I...”

  “Seriously, what? Is there something on my face?” Yukinari had no idea what to make of this.

  The girl simply mumbled quietly to herself instead of answering his question directly. “I see... I suppose things like this can happen.”

  “Like I said, what are you talking about?” Yukinari asked again, and the girl raised her head and spoke to him.

  “I must confess that I have never heard of a god with the form of a human, but... you must be this land’s new erdgod.”

  “What...?” Now it was Yukinari’s turn to be bewildered. The girl didn’t seem to be joking or spouting nonsense. Her expression was dead serious. Lacking much of this world’s conventional wisdom, Yukinari couldn’t make sense of what the girl was telling him. “Dasa, please tell me what this girl’s talking about.”

  Dasa’s expression remained neutral and she didn’t answer. It seemed less like she didn’t know, and more like she was thinking.

  “My name is Berta. I am a shrine maiden who worships the erdgod of this land.” The girl paid Yukinari’s bafflement almost no notice at all. “I offer myself to you. Please bring this land tranquility and good harvests...” The girl in the gauzy costume rose to her feet for a moment, then put her hands together in prayer and kneeled in front of Yukinari.

  “You offer yourself—”

  Yukinari looked at the girl again. As mentioned previously, she was not naked, but the way she was dressed—if you could call it dressed—might have been far better than nudity at turning someone on.

  Thanks to the sheer clothing, he could see all the outlines of her body; he could even see shaded patches due to the differing degrees of light penetrating through the cloth. It wasn’t much different from being totally exposed. Moreover, maybe because she had gotten a little involved in the previous fight, her clothes were torn in a few places and bare skin peeked out on areas of her body that should have been concealed. She was good looking, too. It would have been strange for a healthy young man not to find this arousing.

  “Yes. Please, I am yours to do with as you will.”

  “Huh? Really? I can? Well, I don’t really get it, but—”

  Was this a gift? A traditional gift in her culture? Wouldn’t it be rude to decline something that had been prepared especially for him? As Yukinari pondered these vaguely stupid thoughts, he heard a metallic click behind him. Realizing that it was the sound of Red Chili’s hammer being cocked, he put his hands up and tried to make an excuse.

  “Uh. I’m not, uh. Y’know. Respecting traditional culture is cool and all, but, uh, yeah, I can live without.”

  Even he couldn’t make much sense of that one.

  “...Stupid,” came a flat-sounding voice. Yukinari looked back over his shoulder to see Dasa lowering Red Chili—she had been pointing it into the air—and decocking the hammer.

  ●

  The scope of human understanding is very small.

  As the commoners toil with sweat on their brows, they may sometimes grumble with envy about the nobles and government officials, who earn their food by merely sitting behind their desks. However, the masses most likely have no comprehension of the hardships those above them experience. Of course, this holds in reverse, as well: nobles and officials do not know the hardships of farmers and craftsmen. They may understand them in a scholarly sense, but they do not truly feel them. And as Fiona carried out her work as deputy town mayor for her bedridden father, she thought that she was no exception.

  Of course, she didn’t think that that was a bad thing. Each and every person had a gift they were born with and a role to play in society. And those roles were all deep, and not easily understood by others. There were things that only farmers could do, there were things that only craftsmen could do, and there were jobs that could only be done by a noble or a government official.

  However, when the range of your life is narrow, so becomes your way of thinking.

  Only a very small section of society was allowed to attend the school in the capital as she had—only the children of the privileged classes. Even in her case, her father had pulled quite a few strings for her to study there. They were technically “nobility,” but those begrudgingly included at the bottom of the list were certainly not affluent. The Schillings family was a powerful local family; “nobility” was nothing more than a label afforded to them by the capital for the sake of convenience.

  The way commoners saw things was narrower still. They took the routines of their ancestors as a given.

  No one doubts that the sun will rise in the morning or that it will set when night comes. Even if someone did hold such a doubt, it would soon be forgotten in the bustle of daily life. With the single word “obviously,” people stop thinking, and even taking notice of their surroundings. Life in this world was too harsh to endure any other way—and Fiona herself understood that well.

  “...I suppose the erdgod will have feasted on her by now,” Fiona said quietly, allowing her eyes to drift to the window.

  In name, a shrine maiden serving a god. In truth—a sacrifice to the erdgod.

  Even a ritual as deceitful as this becomes “tradition” after a hundred or a thousand years. Girls almost the same age as herself were regularly offered up to and devoured by creatures that called themselves gods. She understood that this path led to the fewest victims, but the ritual had gone on so long that even the feeling that the girls were “victims” had started to diminish. The priests seemed to teach the orphans who were candidates to become shrine maidens that it was a great honor to be offered to an erdgod.

  “If that girl had been born under other circumstances, her life could have been different...”

  They were children with no one to depend on. Because they didn’t have parents, there was almost no one who would protest if they were made into sacrifices. So an orphanage was created to efficiently provide those sacrifices, and the priests preached to its good name, so that they wouldn’t be tormented by the guilt of their own consciences.

  If there were no sacrifices, it would be difficult for people to live on this impoverished, infertile land. It was obvious that without the erdgod’s “protection,” a hundred people, if not more, would die every year. Fiona understood that much. But at the same time, she knew: those beings called erdgods were the “demons” that were taught about in the capital’s Central Church.

  Erdgods were not absolute justice. They did not even represent “good.” The only reason they had been deified for so long was that there was simply no better option. At the cost of one life, many could be saved. How could Fiona argue with that? The only option was to convince herself that this path was the “best.”

  Fiona stopped writing, gently closed her eyes, and massaged her eyelids. There was no sense in dwelling on this. Shrine maidens had their role, and Fiona had hers. And if the “shrine maiden” was going to fulfill her role, it was surely inexcusable for Fiona to neglect her own.

  She let out a sigh and returned to her duties. But before she could writ
e another word, there was a rush of busy footsteps, and the doors of the office suddenly opened.

  “Milady!”

  A line of servants with faces full of alarm formed in front of Fiona. She frowned heavily, fully intending to reprimand them for their rudeness.

  “What is all the fuss? Knock before you come into—”

  “Our apologies, Milady... This is urgent!” They were all incredibly agitated; veins were bulging on their sweat-covered foreheads, and they were almost out of breath. “Milady,” they cried out in voices approaching shrieks, “something—something serious has happened at the sanctuary!”

  ●

  The beings called erdgods were special.

  Similar beings included “demigods” and “xenobeasts”... or rather, erdgods and demigods were essentially the same thing. The difference was in whether they “settled” in a particular land or not.

  The defining point of “erdgods,” which literally meant “gods of a land,” was that they had the power to form spiritual bonds with a specific area and exert their influence upon it.

  Erdgods could manipulate the environment of the land in which they settled. Not only did they have the power to fertilize the soil, summon rain, and dictate the success of crops, they could even protect people from the occasional disaster, like floods and hurricanes. On the other hand, once an erdgod took root in a land, they would no longer be free to travel far from it.

  Publicly, it was said that the shrine maidens were sent to an erdgod to relieve its boredom. However...

  “Um, Lord Erdgod?”

  “You’re not getting it. I’m not an erdgod.”

  The girl tilted her head. She seemed to be thinking. Suddenly, a concerned expression flitted across her face. “Am I not good enough to satisfy you?”

  “Oh, no, by the look of you, I’d be extremely satisfied. I—” Yukinari stopped abruptly when he heard the click of Red Chili being cocked again behind him.

  “Look. I don’t recall ever becoming an erdgod, okay? Uh, let’s see, what’s your name?”

  “My name is Berta,” the girl said, respectfully bowing her head. It seemed that Berta had completely mistaken Yukinari for an erdgod and was serious about offering herself to him. Yukinari, on the other hand, couldn’t understand the reasoning behind treating him like a new erdgod just because he had felled one himself.

  “Dasa, help me out here,” pleaded Yukinari, looking back at her for help.

  “...I’ve heard of this before from my... sister,” the girl with silver hair said haltingly as she opened Red Chili’s loading gate and swapped the spent cases out for new cartridges. “A king can... ascend to the throne by killing the previous king... and usurping his position... and gods are the... same.”

  “The hell?” Yukinari groaned. “That’s a barbaric system.”

  “Erdgods are... bound to the land. By settling in one place... they gain a number of powers... but... they become part of the land... so...” Dasa closed the loading gate with a click. “...they don’t... die.”

  “It did die, though. Easily.”

  “I mean they don’t age. But... as animals... they gradually ‘weaken.’ Their minds wear away. Because they’re becoming a part of the mountains, rivers, and... valleys.”

  “Hmm. Not sure if I get it or not...”

  “That’s why—” Dasa’s hands stopped. “That’s... probably... why they eat... people. To preserve... themselves... they eat... humans... who have... strong selves.”

  “Are you talking about intelligence or something?”

  “Probably...” Dasa nodded.

  They ate humans not to maintain their physical bodies, but to maintain their spirits, including their intelligence—to maintain their selves. Other living beings would likely be fine as well, but it was probably more spiritually efficient or something to eat humans, who had intelligence in the first place. “This is just my thought... but... I think other demigods attacking and killing erdgods is... a kind of metabolic turnover.”

  The new took the place of the old. In this ever-changing world, that was nothing particularly special. And to the extent that they could not be killed, the rotation of the immortal erdgods was accomplished by them being felled like wild animals. Dasa’s information came secondhand from her sister and seemed to involve a substantial amount of guesswork and assumptions, but Yukinari thought that it did make logical sense.

  “Um... Lord Erdgod?” Berta said to Yukinari timidly.

  “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not an erdgod?”

  “No, you felled the previous erdgod. I still believe the only ones who can defeat an erdgod are beings of equal godhood.”

  “No, seriously, I just killed it like normal. With this thing.” Yukinari indicated the weapon in his hand, Durandall, but Berta seemed to have no interest in it.

  “Please grant this land protection, tranquility, and good harvests... Please... Please...” Berta’s pleading expression was as serious as ever.

  Yukinari looked up at the sky for a moment. “No. I refuse.”

  “Lord Erdgod...?”

  “I’m not an erdgod, and I don’t plan on becoming one. I don’t know how, and becoming one with the land and losing my sense of self? No thanks. I’m not up for the cannibalism, either.”

  The girl fell silent.

  “I’m not special. Our weapons are just a bit weird. That’s the only reason we could kill that erdgod. You could have done it, too. Deicide. Just gotta know how to use these things and not mess it up.” He glanced at Dasa, and Berta followed, looking at her in awe.

  Dasa gave a small nod and held up Red Chili. “Yuki’s not normal... but... that aside... that erdgod was defeated... mainly by armed force.”

  “Quit talking about me like I’m some pervert,” Yukinari grumbled.

  Berta interjected. “But that’s—”

  “Anyway!” Yukinari cut her off. “You don’t have to be eaten anymore, okay? Let’s just go back to your town for now. In fact, show me the way, would you? There’s a bunch of things I need to get.”

  “You’re not a god...” Berta still seemed to be stuck on that. Looking again at Durandall, she said in a low voice, “You say that that strange sword is what felled the erdgod.”

  “Right. I’m not anything big and impressive like a god, I’m just a—” Yukinari hesitated for a moment. “A human,” he said forcefully.

  For a while, Berta appeared hesitant. Then, she looked at Yukinari and Dasa in turn. “I’m terribly sorry. I’m not too bright, so I still don’t understand very well, but I’ll show you to town if that’s what you request. I must go anyway, to explain things to the priests.”

  “That’ll do for now. Thanks.” Yukinari let out a long sigh.

  ●

  The priests’ report was astonishing.

  “He killed the erdgod? A single human, on his own?” To be honest, Fiona couldn’t believe it.

  They may have been called erdgods, but they were originally living creatures. Killing them wasn’t an impossibility. There was even precedent, though she had only learned about that and hadn’t been around to see it. However, if she remembered correctly, that had been a special case, involving dozens, hundreds of people, placing traps and bringing out siege weapons. At the very least, an erdgod wasn’t the kind of thing that just one or two human beings could kill without any preparation.

  “Are you sure there hasn’t been some mistake?”

  “Yes, Deputy Mayor,” one of the priests said to Fiona. He appeared agitated. “I swear to it—we saw a human being, who appeared to be a traveler, fell the erdgod.”

  They had probably come running back here from the viewing platform meant for overseeing the ritual. The priests’ hair and garments were wet with sweat, and they were still breathing heavily. One of the priests had a blood-stained cloth held to his forehead. When asked, he said that he’d tripped and injured himself on the way back. At any rate, this story was too intricate to be a lie, nor was there a reason to tell one
.

  “Let me ask your opinion.” Fiona directed her eyes toward the old high priest who had visited the mansion with them.

  He was the leader of all the priests in this town, and in charge of organizing the rituals. Like Fiona, he was from a family that had lived in this town for generations. He was also right at the top of the list of people who never questioned the rituals. However, his extensive knowledge showed that he had spent his many years wisely.

  “Is it possible for an individual to kill an erdgod?” Fiona asked.

  “It is not impossible in theory...” the high priest said with a frown. “But... that is somewhat like asking if an individual can level a mountain or hold back a river.”

  Everyone present, including Fiona, fell silent.

  Humans were capable of using their hands and feet to dig up soil and carry stones. It would certainly be possible for an individual to change the terrain like that, if they could spend a hundred or a thousand years on it. However, that was entirely unrealistic. In that sense, it would be no exaggeration to call such a thing impossible.

  The high priest’s words made perfect sense.

  ●

  The town where Berta lived was surprisingly close by.

  Yukinari felt that it had taken them just about an hour on foot. Although it was a mountain path, because the route between the town and the “sanctuary” had at least been leveled out and maintained a bit, it could have been called an easy journey, for the distance.

  The town was built in the standard way for a small rural city. It was surrounded by “walls” meant to ward off animals. They had been made by piling up soil and stacking up bricks and stones. There were gates of various sizes leading off in several directions. Guided by Berta, Yukinari’s group entered the town through one of the smaller ones.

  There didn’t seem to be anything like an inn—according to Berta, there were almost never any visitors to a small town like this in the first place—so Yukinari’s group gave up on the idea and headed for the street market to procure food and some supplies.