"Take my power. With the magic of a Saint, I can purge the evil mana that has been scattered across this land. If you have decided that the lives of many must be sacrificed, then the life of a single Saint should surely suffice."
"A tragic ending, wouldn't you say?"
The flowing visions paused momentarily, and Sebas spoke as he poured a fresh cup of coffee.
"Or perhaps a beautiful one, if you were a citizen of that era."
"I guess so."
I bit into a cookie, took a sip of coffee, and nodded.
"The Saint intended to use her own life to put an end to the miasma spreading through the country, the Monster Upheaval, and the encroaching despair."
Holy and evil—two opposing attributes.
If the monster activity was fueled by mana derived from a demon, then a powerful enough Holy-attribute force could solve the problem. Why hadn't she done that from the beginning? That was my first thought after seeing Patricia's choice.
The answer was simple: it was the fault of those cunning bastards.
"Using Edward to force her to say those words... that's in incredibly poor taste."
"That is the nature of humanity, ho-ho."
There was no way a figure of the Saint’s caliber would stand by while innocent lives were used as weights on a scale. I felt I could sympathize, just a little, with the Edward of the past.
"However, this balancing of lives—or this trolley problem of a dispute—did not exactly end peacefully with a single sacrifice."
"Obviously. A purification and a barrier are completely different things."
If the Saint had succeeded in a purification at the cost of her life, no barrier would have been formed. Yet, that barrier remained to this very day. Purification and barriers might seem similar, but there is a fundamental difference between them.
To purge, or to reject.
Mana, the source of power filling the world, responds to the will of the one who wields it. It reacts to emotions rooted deep within the subconscious far more than it does to polished words or empty incantations.
"Edward... he rejected her death, didn't he?"
"Exactly," Sebas replied with a smile. "One could call it a tale of profound love. He wished to keep her soul in this world, at the very least, before it could dissipate as mana."
"That's a bit too 'profound' for my liking."
I wasn't sure if "profound" was the right word. I recalled something the modern Patricia had said about the Royal Capital Barrier: "It’s creepy and stalker-ish that the source of the Guardian Barrier is a Saint."
Back when I was indifferent to romance, those words wouldn't have meant much to me. But now that I had someone I’d sworn to protect, my perspective had shifted.
"He must have felt like there were no other options left."
"The times were desperate, and his position was precarious," Sebas continued. "Furthermore, time was running out, and the Saint was determined to see her task through."
Edward had already made the agonizing decision that something had to be cast aside to save the rest.
"He couldn't exactly say, 'I want her to live, so let's sacrifice the commoners instead.'"
"No, he certainly could not."
Perhaps if he had clung to her and wept like a pathetic child, a different path might have opened. But it seemed he had already run out of tears. The flavorless coffee tasted strangely bitter. I drained the cup and set it back on the saucer with a clink.
"Now then," Sebas said, "as you have likely guessed, the Edward of the past chose to intervene."
"The Demon Summoning."
It was the very atrocity the country’s leadership had originally planned to commit.
"Correct. Now, let us witness the moment. The fateful instant where it all truly began—"
Sebas snapped his fingers, and a grainy image flickered into view.
The footage was distorted, looking like a video tape that had been dubbed over far too many times. It showed a stone chamber, likely deep beneath the Royal Castle. In the center sat a massive sphere of pale blue light—a concentrated mass of the Saint’s magic power, extracted for the sacrifice.
"The image is a mess."
"There is an immense concentration of the Saint's magic power here; it cannot be helped. In the face of such pure Holy-attribute mana, even my presence begins to flicker."
"I see. So it really is your weakness."
"Indeed. There is nothing I can do against that level of purity. A normal demon would vanish into nothingness just by touching it."
If Sebas spoke of it with such gravity, the Saint's mana had to be something truly monstrous. The vision continued.
"Magnificent... so this is the mana of a Saint..."
"You're entranced, Continent."
"It is a light we could never hope to reach. It is a radiance that can only be permitted to shine in the dark, is it not?"
"I suppose. However, I wonder if it is truly wise to waste such power just to settle an upheaval. Even if we survive, other nations will surely pick us apart while we try to rebuild. Do you not agree, Duke Ignite?"
"You have a point. In that case..."
"Perhaps we should simply cast aside these defiled lands and seize another nation for ourselves. We shall proceed with the Demon Summoning as planned, and with both Holy and Evil powers at our disposal..."
"What are you two plotting?"
A man who looked remarkably like Volsea cut through the ambitions of the Dukes of Ignite and Continent.
"We agreed that the people are the priority. I will not allow you to spit on Lady Patricia’s resolve."
"My, how terrifying. Chief Sage Cascade-dono truly has no sense of humor. Wouldn't you agree, Duke Ignite?"
"Humor has nothing to do with it. I am merely sharing a realistic appraisal of our situation. Do you think our neighbors will miss this chance once the evil is purged? They are only harassing us now because there is no profit in it, Cascade."
Glaring at him with sharp eyes, the two dukes laughed and dismissed Cascade's warning.
"I cannot trust a word you say. The only reason I agreed to this was because we were using our own blood for the Demon Summoning. Even in a crisis, you lot... what did you say to Edward?"
"What did we say? Only the truth. Besides, he agreed to the Saint's sacrifice, didn't he? He is no different from us."
"Guh... Ignite, as long as I draw breath, I will not let you commit any further outrages."
As the three dukes argued, Edward finally appeared.
"You’re late, boy."
"Behold, this is the brilliance of the soul that Saint kept hidden away."
"Is that so?"
Edward gave the Dukes of Ignite and Continent a short, hollow reply. Among them, only Cascade seemed to notice the cold resolution in the boy’s eyes.
"What are you planning, Edward?"
"Teacher... please forgive me."
The moment Edward whispered those words, a massive magic circle erupted beneath his feet, and a violent gale tore through the room.
"Wha—ghhk!"
"T-this is...!"
Blood sprayed in great arcs from the slit throats of Continent and Ignite, who had been unable to react in time. Cascade, the only one who had managed to raise a defensive stance, glared at Edward.
"What... are you doing?"
"It would have been better if I were stronger. But I am weak. And because I am weak, she is all alone..."
His words sounded like a desperate confession. Perhaps Cascade felt a measure of guilt himself, for he did not press the issue, choosing instead to simply listen.
"I see... I do not know what they told you, but killing these two changes nothing. We must lead this country correctly. That is all those of us left alive can do."
"No, you're wrong."
Edward lunged forward, plunging his knife into the chest of Cascade, the man who had tried to comfort him.
"Nngh...!"
"I cannot lose her. I refuse."
"Ed... ward... you... surely you don't mean to..."
"I think... that no matter what choice I made... she would have chosen to sacrifice herself anyway. That’s just who she is."
Edward whispered as he looked down at the dying Cascade. Then, he took the knife—dripping with fresh, warm blood—and drove it into his own hand.
"But I can't accept it! I won't!"
He yanked the blade out with a wet squelch and clawed at his head with blood-slicked fingers.
"And after I told you... never to show an opening..."
Cascade watched him with a look of profound self-reproach.
"I won't accept a world without her! I can't! That's why... before her soul can vanish into the sky—"
The bright red floor, now a mixture of the blood of the Four Houses, began to turn a deep, bruised black.
"—I have to shroud her."
A magic circle, thick with gore, flared to life. From its center, the red-haired demon I remembered all too well stepped forth.
"Kufufu. You did well to call me. I have come, you little fool who desires something more than any king ever could. Tell me, what is your wish? I am in a pleasant mood. I could even help you surpass a High King."
At that moment, the vision dissolved into static.
"And there is Belial," Sebas remarked.
"Just looking at his face pisses me off."
Whether it was because of Belial’s presence or the fading of the memory itself, the vision grew even more distorted, until even the voices were swallowed by silence.