Gunther was thoroughly astonished.
— Hello, Gunther...
The voice that rang out in the corridor was absolutely identical to the one he had heard before. But now it sounded much softer... like someone who had just woken up and had not yet gathered their strength. Gunther’s gaze fixed on Rem.
— ......
Rem blinked slowly. With that same absent expression on her face, she continued:
— Do you remember me? Or not anymore...
...He had thought she was dead. He had believed she had perished at the hands of the traitor Krest after passing the gathered information on to Remesia, and had vanished for good. But contrary to his expectations, Rem was alive and unharmed.
“Then again, they did say information could be passed on through simple contact. Dying wasn’t necessary.”
As if she had read Gunther’s thoughts, Rem added:
— As a reward for finding you, I was allowed to stay in this world for a few more ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) months.
— ......
— Will you come with me? Remesia doesn’t really like it when someone makes noise nearby while she’s sleeping.
Rem turned around. Gunther’s gaze naturally followed her. Remesia and Rem looked like twins. The same black hair, the same black eyes, the build of a fifteen-year-old teenager. But the aura they gave off was completely different.
Where Remesia radiated explosive irritability and capriciousness, Rem gave off peace. She was quiet, ghostlike, and serene.
— We’re leaving.
Rustle—
Before he could ask where they were going, Gunther’s legs began moving on their own. Against his will, his steps obediently followed the direction Rem had chosen.
Rustle—
Remesia had given him vague commands like “walk around everywhere” or “act surprised.” It seemed his body had shifted into an automatic mode, adapting itself to those hazy instructions. The hero’s will was ignored, but his usual posture, gait, speed, and even breathing rhythm were reproduced perfectly.
“From the outside, I probably look completely normal...”
A great deal about the mechanics of “brainwashing” still remained a mystery. But there were some things Gunther understood clearly.
“At the moment, two types of brainwashing are known.”
The first was the so-called mass brainwashing, aimed mainly at ordinary soldiers and knights.
“A method that stands out too much.”
The eyes of those under mass influence were always empty, and their movements mechanical and uniform. It gave the impression that their “contents” had simply been scrubbed out.
“The advantage is that it requires little power, and the Hierarch doesn’t need to intervene personally.”
The priests acted as the primary casters, spreading the effect over large areas through magic circles and rituals.
The second type was individual pinpoint brainwashing, and it was fundamentally different from the first.
Outwardly, the signs of control were almost nonexistent. Speech, behavior, expression — everything looked extremely natural. If the Hierarch assumed full control, even the closest people could be deceived.
“As with Tarsha.”
But the decisive difference was that in this case, the Hierarch had to pour power into it personally.
“The cost is enormous, but the effect is incomparable.”
It allowed not only much broader use of the subject, but also the copying of part of their abilities.
“Apparently, it’s a new power she obtained from an evil god while brainwashing Dominic.”
Gunther let out a heavy sigh once his thoughts reached that point.
“She copied Parco’s abilities with ease... How many of my skills will she be able to steal?”
The worst-case scenario came to mind. The probability seemed low, but... what if information about “Return After Death” or “Karma” somehow leaked to the Hierarch?
A chill ran down his spine from that thought alone.
Of course, the Hierarch had likely not yet grasped the nature of his powers. Otherwise, she would not have simply watched in silence. Besides, she had said it clearly herself:
“I’ll dissect him together with Masiu, the Archbishop of Repose.”
That meant there were factors preventing her from acting against Gunther alone. Most likely, the reason was his high divine resistance and Mari’s Blessing.
Either way, if the Hierarch specialized in brainwashing itself, then Masiu was an expert at “digging” through other people’s heads.
“Even if Masiu comes, I don’t think he’ll be able to wield powers as absurd as Karma or Return however he pleases... but...”
He still could not relax. They had managed to make even Dominic, the hero of the age, bow. There was no telling when Masiu would arrive, so Gunther needed to find out everything he had to and end this life before that happened.
“To do that...”
Gunther continued calculating when Rem, walking ahead, came to a stop, and his legs obediently froze along with her. He realized she had led him underground.
“We’re going to the prison?”
Tap— Tap—
The sound of descending a spiral staircase rang out. At that moment, Rem’s voice cut through the silence:
— Why did you do it?
Gunther felt bewilderment at the question, which sounded as though it had been torn from the middle of a sentence. Rem continued at once:
— I saw how you fought. How you gathered people.
...She was calling him “big brother” again. Apparently, Rem wanted to talk about what had happened at the estate.
— You knew you would lose. You knew you would end up like this. You’re smart. And you know a lot about us.
Rem turned around. She looked at Gunther with eyes full of sincere incomprehension.
— You could have just run away alone. On your own, you definitely could have escaped.
— ......
— No one forced you, so why did you do it?
Tap—
The toe of Rem’s boot tapped against the step. Gunther noticed a fleeting confusion pass over that doll-like face.
— Of course, it wasn’t completely useless. Because of your resistance, the outer barrier weakened, and some of the residents, having broken free from the influence of the brainwashing, were able to leave the grounds. Was that what you wanted?
— ......
— Chivalry... You said you act the way you believe is right...
— ......
— But before, you said that meeting the people dear to you and spending time with them was your great happiness and your goal.
— ......
— Is doing what is right more important to you than your own happiness? Why?
A strange conversation. The form of a monologue, where the other person was not expected to answer, but merely served as someone before whom thoughts were poured out aloud. Gunther understood that Rem was used to talking like this. It did not take him long to guess that Remesia herself must have spoken the same way in solitude to those whose minds she had washed.
“So, loneliness...”
He had picked up another keyword describing the Hierarch.
Tap—
Rem started moving forward again as she continued speaking:
— Remesia told me to entertain you properly.
— ......
— So I thought very carefully about what we should do...
By then they had reached the entrance to the prison. Gunther felt the presence of the people locked inside.
— Oh!
The prisoners recognized him as well, and their faces brightened for a moment... but the instant they saw Rem appear behind him, hope on their faces immediately turned to despair.
— I think you’d rather see these people than keep staying alone with me all the time...
Rem did not get to finish, because Albern shouted at the top of his lungs:
— Sir Gan!!! You witch! What have you done to our benefactor! Oh, Sir Gan... what have you become. You, a man so proud, have turned into a living corpse!
...Well now, “a living corpse.”
Still, he was not the only one behind the bars. Kylis, Servan, as well as Werner and Roen were there too. Apparently, father and son of the Barkel family were nearly out of their minds from the shock of losing their family and lands, but in the eyes of the heirs of the Round Table there was still life. It was obvious they were searching for a way to escape... though with shackles binding their entire bodies, it would not be easy.
— ......
Gunther cast a questioning look at Rem. Remesia was unlikely to have approved of them talking. After all, she knew Gunther’s “brainwashing” was far from complete.
So this was Rem’s personal initiative? Could a double really act on its own like this?
Rem murmured:
— Since I’m getting in your way, I’ll step aside for a little while... By the way, we still have more things planned next... Remesia sleeps for a long time.
And she really did leave, abandoning Gunther there alone.
...A trap? Suspicion flashed through Gunther’s mind. But there was no time left to think it over.
Rustle—
No sooner had Rem disappeared than other footsteps sounded through the prison corridor, heavier this time. The moment the pursuer came into view, bedlam erupted in the cells. Even Servan and Kylis, who had been sitting there in a stupor until then, instantly lunged toward the bars with fury in their eyes.
— KREST ROYEN!!!
— Shame of the kingdom, who sold both chivalry and honor! How dare you show your shameless face here!
— The one who prattled on about law and justice defiled his family with betrayal and murder!
Their thunderous voices rang through the corridor, battering the ears. The clatter of the chains they rattled threateningly only completed the picture. But despite all that noise, Krest merely furrowed his brows slightly, remaining perfectly calm. Then again, to come before those you had betrayed, one had to possess nerves of truly tempered steel.
— ...And what is this one doing here?
Tap—
Krest gave Gunther a slight shove in the shoulder. But Gunther did not so much as budge — the massive full plate simply absorbed the force of the push. Gunther looked at him expressionlessly, and Krest let out an irritated sigh, as if everything was not going the way he wanted.
Rustle—
He stepped right up to the bars, completely ignoring the knights’ furious stares. His gaze settled on only one person — Kylis Barkel.
— Head of the family, enough with the stubbornness. You understand yourself that it’s all over.
Kylis closed his eyes and did not say a word. Apparently, Krest did not like that reaction. He growled:
— The moment I pass a single word to the Hierarch, Archbishop Masiu will come here from the capital. I don’t think I need to remind you of his skill at turning people’s brains inside out.
Hearing that, Gunther frowned in puzzlement. Who did he think he was, claiming that an entire archbishop would come at his word? And yet Krest’s face shone with such confidence that it was hardly mere bragging.
— Decide quickly. Wouldn’t it be better if “that” ended up with me, your fellow countryman, rather than falling into Luthien’s hands?
Interest flared in Gunther’s eyes.
“That? What is he looking for?”
The other knights in the cells, apparently, were in the dark as well. Krest whispered quietly:
— If you simply tell me where “that” is...
A faint smile touched his lips, and he finished:
— ...I’ll pass on Seril’s last words to you.
At that moment...
A strange foreboding came over Gunther. “That,” the thing Krest was searching for. On the level of instinct, he felt that he had to get “that” first.
***
A plain. On the surface it was nothing but rolling slopes and wind-scattered boulders. But if one dug deeper between the rocks, an underground structure of human make revealed itself, built a very long time ago. Two silhouettes stood before the entrance: one slender, the other enormous.
— Wow, we got lucky.
Ryan narrowed his eyes as he looked up at the blue-black clouds stretched across the sky, visible through the opening behind them. Levain, brushing snow from his shoulders, replied:
— Tell me about it. We got through just before the snowstorm hit. If we’d gotten stuck, we’d have lost another day.
— Ha, luck’s on our side!
— Let’s get this over with quickly. The others have been waiting.
— ...In that warm castle?
— ...It annoys me a little too, but what can you do.
During the trip to the storage site, the two of them had grown fairly close. There was nothing surprising about that.
Ryan’s natural friendliness had played a part, and so had the fact that for all his nature, Levain treated the members of the platoon with great warmth. And with a recommendation from Gunther’s old friend on top of that, there was no longer any need for extra words.
— ...The secret warehouse of the Society of Holy Flame. Never thought I’d ever end up here.
— It’s not just a warehouse, — Ryan straightened up jokingly. — Sacred relics personally selected by the previous Magister are kept here. It’s almost like ancient ruins.
And that was no exaggeration. Both of them simultaneously recalled Gunther’s instructions.
Inside there were surely relics belonging to all kinds of gods. Gunther had asked them to take everything that carried strong divine energy, making no distinctions. That would help him resist the brainwashing, and under certain circumstances it could serve as an object for making a pact with a new god or as an offering.
And most importantly, if among those things there was something presumed to belong to an “Ancient God,” they had to bring it back at any cost.
That had been Gunther’s most important order.
Standing before the entrance, Levain murmured in admiration:
— ...Yes, it really does look like treasures beyond measure are hidden here.
He began putting away the lockpicking tools he had laid out. It was obvious they were useless here. Through the lenses of his glasses, he could see countless mechanisms and security systems woven around the entrance.
This was not a zone for “theft.” It was a “sanctuary,” one that only the holder of the true key could enter.
— Well then, shall we?
Ryan grinned broadly at his side and pulled out a silver key engraved with a flame. The very one he had received from the King of Flame.
— Let’s see what they were hiding so carefully!
Click—
The key inserted into the slot turned smoothly. And the door slowly began to open.
