“Is the conversation over?”
Passius, who had been waiting below, thought Ludger returned sooner than expected.
“Yes. I only meant to exchange a few words anyway. And she asked me to pass along her regards. Said she’s doing well, thanks to you.”
“......Good grief. Truly befitting the former Saintess. I kept my distance because I didn’t want to bother her, and yet she found out this easily.”
“Given the timing of my arrival, she might have guessed. It would look rather strange for me to show up alone at a place like that.”
Ludger and Passius stood at a quiet station.
It was far enough from the capital that it carried that distinctive calm of a rural stop.
In the distance, accompanied by a clanging ding-ding-ding, a tram approached.
There were no passengers, and the two of them sat freely in the empty seats.
Outside the window of the departing tram, the peaceful countryside scenery flowed past.
A cool breeze, carrying a faint floral scent, blew in through the half-open window.
Bathed in the gentle sunlight, Ludger gazed at the scene that looked as though the word peace had been painted directly onto it.
A landscape visible precisely because he was not a god, but a human.
Ludger liked that very much.
“So, what will you do now? We have more time left than expected.”
“It’ll take an hour to reach the capital.”
“There will still be time left after that.”
“Then let’s at least talk along the way. The ride would be dull otherwise.”
At those words, Passius gave a short smile and asked as if he’d been waiting for it.
“What do you want to hear?”
“Anything. I don’t know how the world changed during those three years. Anything is fine.”
“In that case, it may become a rather long story.”
Passius filled the three-year gap created by Ludger’s absence with the knowledge and events he knew.
Once the Holy War ended, the widespread brainwashing unraveled. At the same time, when the great cage collapsed, people felt that some unseen shackle that had bound them was gone.
It brought considerable chaos, though it did not last terribly long.
The leaders of each nation, having ended the Holy War, united their strength to stabilize the continent.
The Theocracy of Bretus vanished, and the Church’s authority collapsed as well.
In fact, the atrocities they had committed against the people came to light, and the cathedrals and churches across various cities had no choice but to close their doors.
“‘Closed’ makes it sound gentle. Many burned down or were even bombed.”
“It was a long and arduous ordeal. The things they did weren’t all that long ago.”
For years, they brainwashed people, kidnapped their children, and conducted experiments to mold them into vessels for the Saintess.
The international crimes committed by Bretus were no less severe.
There were even nations now determined to completely erase the traces of the vanished Holy Nation.
“The only fortunate thing is that the Holy Nation truly was uprooted without a trace.”
It wasn’t an exaggeration.
The citadel symbolizing the Holy Nation had been torn from its foundation and, unable to endure the aftershocks of battle, completely collapsed.
The same held true for the Holy Sovereign’s lineage, the core of the Holy Nation.
Every last one of them was dead. The only survivor was Heathcliff.
To the public, Heathcliff was said to have died, but few actually believed that.
Because of that, there even arose doomsayers claiming the Demon King would descend once more.
“Doomsayers, you say.”
“The god is gone, after all. Honestly, even I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. And most people directly witnessed that god being destroyed.”
The demise of Lumenis.
No—could it even be called a ‘death’? It was absurd to apply the concept of death to beings whose power and rank so vastly transcended humanity.
But if one insisted, Lumenis would never regain his former glory.
His body was torn to shreds, likely in a condition more miserable than the other ancient gods he himself had condemned beyond the veil.
Alive, perhaps.
But unable to die, suffering unimaginable torment.
What drew Ludger’s attention more, however, was the doomsayers.
“Even if a god dies, if an evil god dies, how does that lead to doomsday?”
“Regardless of what kind of god it was— a god died. The death of a transcendent being causes profound psychological unrest. And even if the Holy Sovereign died, hearing that he was killed by his own bloodline only worsens people’s fears.”
No matter how good the ending Ludger had achieved was, the truth of his birth made him difficult to trust completely.
And regardless of his intentions, he had waged war. Even joined hands with a demon.
The abandoned bastard child had exacted his revenge on the Holy Nation and its god.
That alone was enough to draw cult-like fascination from some people.
“There are those who believe the Demon King will return someday—and even wish for that Demon King to smash this rotten world.”
“Well, that’s absurd but terribly realistic at the same time.”
“No matter how prosperous and advanced the world becomes, those who suffer beneath it remain unchanged. Bretus disappeared, but the chaos it left still lingers.”
And into the void left by the collapse of the old faiths, new ones emerged.
Indigenous folk beliefs once oppressed.
Heterodox sects devastated by the Holy Knights but with a few survivors.
And entirely new religions as well.
Among them, the most rapidly growing were the Demon King worshippers.
They waited for Demon King Heathcliff to appear.
They firmly believed he would one day return and reform this rotten world.
In the past, the Holy Knights of Bretus would have charged in declaring them heretics—but they were gone.
With the death of a single predator, hundreds of worms now wriggled over the corpse, feeding.
“In a twisted way, the Bretus people acted as janitors preventing such things.”
“So now it must be chaos. The lord of the mountain is gone, so everyone wants to claim themselves the new king.”
“Chaos indeed. New religions appear, old ones raise their heads, strange cults form—everyone claiming ‘We are the true one,’ fighting among themselves. Thankfully their scale is small. If they were any larger, we might have had civil wars.”
Perhaps this too was part of humanity’s free will.
Freedom was not always positive or fulfilling.
“And that’s why things have been so noisy recently. Because the Demon King returned. Though not in the form they wanted.”
“Since their idol was about to be executed. Having strangers impose their own image on me and worship it is more unpleasant than I expected.”
The terrorism that occurred during the execution was for that reason.
Though their foolish rampage was suppressed quickly, they firmly believed the Demon King would save them.
But would they ever realize—
That one of the people who subdued that chaos was the very Ludger whom they worshipped so fervently?
“In the end, the execution proceeded as scheduled, and with it, the most troublesome Demon King-worshipping faction was finished. A religion without an idol is no more than a trivial gathering.”
“I see.”
“More importantly—aren’t you curious about what happened to the others?”
Passius said he could tell Ludger about a few people from what he knew.
Ludger cast a brief look out the tram window.
The calm suburban scenery had already changed into the outskirts of the city.
People were visible now, and tall buildings rose up, obstructing his view.
It had been roughly an hour’s distance, yet conversing made it feel as though no time had passed at all.
“I appreciate the thought, but unfortunately I don’t think I’ll have time to listen.”
“Ah, I see.”
“And besides, I’d rather hear it from their own mouths than through someone else.”
It had been three long years.
He wanted nothing more than to resolve everything right away—but Ludger willingly chose to endure.
The joy of reunion would be all the greater for it.
Passius shrugged, unable to argue.
Everyone had their own way, and he had no intention of forcing his onto Ludger.
“Then is today’s schedule finished?”
“Not finished.”
“There’s someone else you’re meeting? The sun is already starting to set.”
He had tried to satiate Ludger’s curiosity by explaining the flow of the last three years, but apparently it wasn’t enough.
“There must be many people you’ll meet in the capital. Who exactly? Don’t tell me another woman?”
“Another woman? When you put it that way, it sounds strange.”
“Well, I’ve seen two already. Three, if we count the one at the palace.”
“Please stop. This time I’m meeting my long-time comrades. I’d rather avoid misunderstandings.”
“Ah. I see.”
Passius accepted it immediately.
There were many people Ludger ought to meet, but if there were any he must meet, it would be them.
His comrades of [U.N. Owens].
The ones who crossed countless hardships with him until the very end of the Holy War—no longer merely secret society operatives, but heroes worthy of the name.
“But were they in the capital? It’s not my jurisdiction, but the Empire must be keeping close tabs on them.”
Ludger nodded.
It wasn’t surprising. After the Holy War, the strength of the Owens members was enough to make nations wary.
Just look at Alex and Phantos, and Hans.
Alex and Phantos had surpassed the wall—reaching the level of Lutus.
Beyond a master who had completed the sword—reaching the realm that transcended the sword itself.
A domain that once had only a single wielder in the entire continent: Lutus.
And now a nameless commoner swordsman and a brutish beastkin mutant had entered it.
The two of them together were already a national-level force.
Of course, people would still dismiss them as mere individuals.
After all—massive manpower, bombardments, and strategic weapons could overwhelm even the strongest knight.
But there was one person even such people hesitated to dismiss:
Hans.
Hans, once cursed by his own constitution, had finally mastered it—now able to fully wield the power once held by the Beast of Jévaudan.
His ability: to summon countless beasts.
Anyone who had even briefly participated in the Holy War would never forget it.
The swarms of black beasts filling the horizon.
The special variants blessed with the essence of apex predators, and the true body surpassing even those.
Hans, who had accepted the essence of beasts, could overthrow a nation if he wished.
Of course, he’d never do something so brutal.
Hans was a peaceful commoner at heart.
He only fought out of a desire to repay his benefactor, Ludger.
Now that everything was over, Hans wished only for a quiet life.
A life where great strength allows one to avoid battle—perhaps that is a privilege reserved for the truly strong.
After the Holy War, the Empire kept Hans’s existence as a top-level secret.
If his identity and abilities leaked, beast-worshipping cults might have formed sooner than Demon King cults.
From the Empire’s perspective, they had no choice. A single individual possessing force on par with an army—if that information reached another nation...
Fierce, nation-level clashes over Hans would erupt immediately.
A living strategic weapon would inevitably be treated that way.
And so Ludger was surprised—
That nothing about Hans had leaked.
Instead, the Beast of Jévaudan was said to have perished in the battle.
Information suppression was thorough. Those present must have all agreed to keep silent.
Otherwise, Hans would have spent the last three years hounded by every organization imaginable.
Even if discovered, Hans wouldn’t have been an easy target.
Because he was not alone.
Yes. He wasn’t alone.
Even with Ludger gone, Hans had strong comrades by his side.
Passius’s suspicion was reasonable. If they were active, the Empire would have heard something.
“I haven’t received any reports of them moving.”
“They’ll come.”
Ludger spoke with certainty.
Passius looked as though he had many questions, but said nothing.
The tram arrived, and Ludger and Passius walked through the capital.
“Here.”
Even after three years, Ludger found the place easily.
A shabby bar one could find anywhere.
When Ludger looked at Passius, the latter shrugged helplessly and stepped back.
His body dissolved into the air like a mirage and vanished.
Ludger slowly reached for the door handle and opened it.
Inside the bar, not yet open for business.
Ludger saw a familiar back seated at the bar counter—and he gave a faint smile.
Taking a seat naturally beside the man, Ludger asked:
“What’s the best drink here?”
