“...A prank...”
Carla repeated Frondier’s words. Her eyes were wide.
“Because gods or demons are playing a prank on humans, a war could break out...”
“Or both sides could be doing it.”
In truth, the “prank” itself is being played by both.
Divine power bestowed by gods or contracts made by demons—through Frondier’s eyes, there’s no meaningful difference.
At that, Arald tilted his head.
“Is there really a chance for war to break out on this land? It doesn’t look that way to me.”
“Right. Unlike Falind’s Terst Empire, there’s only one nation here. Even if they wanted to wage war, there’s no other country to fight.”
Elodie nodded in agreement.
Of course, Frondier also thought that was true. Since arriving here he’d gone through many incidents, but the nation itself looked stable. He hadn’t sensed unrest in the streets or the taverns.
Frondier’s unease had its origin in his knowledge.
Names from the Trojan War kept popping up, and it felt like demons had meddled in this country more than expected—those feelings led him toward a certain hypothesis.
'If the Trojan War is truly the motif here, I’ve got more than enough reason to step in.'
In the Trojan War, many of the famous Greek gods took part. In the original myths, they didn’t intervene for any truly great reason. Perhaps in their view the reasons were grand, but not in Frondier’s.
They have little to do with human wars.
They participated because it wasn’t their concern.
But the Agoris continent now is a little different from the Trojan War’s circumstances.
Unlike myth, where gods went in and out of the human world as if strolling their own courtyards, it isn’t easy now for gods to descend upon this land.
'Because of Ragnarök, most gods withdrew from this world, and those who remain are bound by some human’s magic. Divine power is a variable, yes, but gods don’t grant their power to just anyone.'
The reason gods don’t freely grant power to humans is simple: it “lowers their dignity.”
It’s a metaphor—and also literal. For gods, it’s a serious matter.
Instead of speaking himself, Frondier looked at Carla.
“What do you think, Ms. Carla? Is there a possibility that war will break out in this nation?”
Carla lowered her head and fell into deep thought.
She repeated what Frondier had said earlier—about “war.” She would have her own thoughts on it.
“...I think there’s a possibility of civil war.”
After a brief deliberation, she spoke.
“This nation, Palma, is wary of demons and relies strongly on gods.”
“People usually do, but you mean it’s excessive here.”
Carla nodded at Frondier’s words.
“If anyone behaves even a little suspiciously, they’re immediately suspected of being a demon. There’s never been a time in human history when demons were this close.”
Demons from another world—or beings whose very existence should be ambiguous—had gone so far as to found a country and settle in. That would weigh heavily on humans.
“Reliance on gods means the gods’ commands take precedence over their own free will. Right now in Palma, a faction has formed around several humans who possess divine power. Powerful gods like Zeus and Aphrodite have granted power to humans, and believers and soldiers have gathered around a central figure.”
On the Falind continent, humans who receive divine power are envied and praised by many, but not to the extent of drawing congregations.
Because there already exist those who, by their own force, surpass humans with divine power.
Even setting Frondier aside, his older brother Atjie also has no divine power, and the principal Ospreyte is the same. Elin, Aster’s older sister, is unparalleled in the domain of swordsmanship.
But to become that strong requires something beyond mere growth. Put generously, it is desperate effort that surpasses one’s limits; put plainly, it is madness.
Palma has no such madness. They chose magitech weapons and gods instead of madness.
“For now, the gods’ opinions are aligned, but the moment they diverge, Palma’s factions will split as well. Whether there’s civil war depends solely on the gods’ choice.”
“Why do humans here rely so much on gods?”
Humans of Palma crave gods—to oppose demons. Just as the Falind continent needed divine power to fight against monsters.
But that reliance has taken a form slightly different from Falind.
Why are individuals in Palma not as powerful as those in the Terst Empire?
Why do they lack that madness?
“That’s the difference between demons and monsters.”
Riri answered in Frondier’s stead.
“On the Falind continent, monsters are a tangible threat, something you face constantly. They’re maniacs who try to smash the walls at every opportunity. They’re ferocious—but because of that, you can clearly gauge the level of threat, and the Empire grew strong to protect itself from monsters.”
Of course, overcoming that growth doesn’t erase fear of monsters.
But it is a fear you understand distinctly. That is the difference between Terst and Palma.
“From an ordinary person’s perspective, it’s like there are two paths: at the end of one waits a ‘starving tiger,’ at the end of the other a ‘pitch-black unknown.’ Which one do you choose? You feel fear either way—but the type of fear differs.”
Hearing that, Frondier said,
“If we take that analogy, people can’t help but choose the ‘pitch-black unknown.’”
“Exactly. If you meet a starving tiger, you’ll die for certain.”
Whereas with the pitch-black unknown, there’s a chance to live—or rather, you believe there is.
You literally don’t know what it is. Whether that blackness is merely a shadow, or something far more dreadful than a tiger—you only find out by going there.
To Palma, demons are that “pitch-black unknown.”
They are feared—and at the same time, underestimated.
Riri said,
“For any demon, the root of fear isn’t their strength—it’s their ambiguity. They keep humans from fully reading their true nature. They make it impossible to read what they’ll do or what they’re thinking. They conceal and hide the full extent of their power. From that, both fear and complacency are born in humans.”
Simply put, demons are masses of bluff.
That’s true of the demons who came to this land and built a nation as well.
They’re probably leaving the human nation alone on purpose. Unable to return to the demon realm and having already revealed themselves here, they obsess even more over manufacturing ambiguity.
And so far, that intention has worked well in this country.
'By merely existing without revealing any threat, they maintain only the perception of being threatening. That alone makes the people of this land rely on magitech weapons instead of striving with do-or-die resolve to grow—and then rely on gods as well.'
In other words, the fact that humans are now starting to rely on gods is exactly as demons intended.
But there, one question remained.
Frondier tilted his head.
“What do demons gain from humans relying on gods?”
Gods and demons are opposed. He learned that all too well fighting Belphegor.
Demons and gods loathe each other. Naturally.
The more humans rely on gods, the easier it becomes for gods to step into the human sphere—and that isn’t what demons should want.
Yet the current situation suggested demons did want that.
Frondier asked Carla,
“Ms. Carla, has there been any conflict in this nation recently? Even something trivial.”
If there really were signs of a coming war, then even if the situation seemed stable in Frondier’s [N O V E L I G H T] eyes, reality might be different. And if he could grasp those signs, he might glean the demons’ intentions too.
Carla tilted her head.
“...I don’t know if you could call it a conflict, but...”
“So there is something.”
Carla nodded at Frondier’s words. But her expression was strange, as if she’d just eaten a cookie with no flavor at all.
“As I said, factions are divided in this country. Lately, the disagreement between two of those factions has been getting worse...”
“I see. Are they showing signs of starting a civil war?”
“I don’t think it’s... to the level of civil war...”
Carla hedged awkwardly, as if the topic were uncomfortable. Frondier cocked his head.
“What disagreement is there?”
“W-well, it’s really nothing much...”
“Anything is fine.”
At Frondier’s prompting, Carla’s eyes darted about before she finally spoke.
“S-so, it’s a kind of support base. There are two women who received divine power, and there are factions supporting each of them. The friction between the two sides has been worse than expected lately, and the citizens are getting worried.”
“I see. Political support?”
“No. Support for them as individuals.”
“...? Support for what about the individuals?”
To Frondier’s natural question, Carla answered with a somewhat embarrassed look.
“T-their looks. They’re supporting their looks.”
“...Sorry?”
“It’s like a contest to determine who is Palma’s greatest beauty.”
Hearing that, the serious expression on Frondier’s face went blank. The others were the same.
After a brief silence, Pielot spoke first.
“...Does this have anything to do with war?”
A very reasonable question.
“So it’s like an intense fan-club fight. Doesn’t sound related to war.”
“Right. No matter what, you can’t make that kind of reason a pretext for a blood-soaked war.”
Elodie and Selena voiced the same view.
Frondier folded his arms and tilted his head.
'In any nation’s war, women can be a triggering element, but they can’t be the decisive cause—unless the two factions already have severe conflicts beyond that.'
In short, the woman isn’t what matters. It’s a surface-level pretext.
There, Frondier let out a breath.
He could mostly see it.
“...It’s a battle of divine pride.”
“Exactly. You see it clearly.”
Carla nodded.
“Hera and Aphrodite—each one chose a human who ranks among the most beautiful in this country. So the citizens of Palma think the two of them are standards of beauty selected by each god’s eye. Strictly speaking, they’re not supporting a woman; they’re supporting the god standing behind her.”
Frondier scratched his cheek, troubled.
'Which appearance is more beautiful... It’s simple—and the perfect pretext to fight over.'
Frondier asked,
“Then how is it in reality? Did Hera and Aphrodite truly grant divine power to those two based only on looks?”
“Mm... from what I’ve seen so far, that seems to be the prevailing view. Before they received divine power, both were ordinary aside from their looks.”
If that were true, then it would naturally become a sensitive issue for their supporters. If the gods chose purely based on looks, then if one side wins, it would be tantamount to dismissing the other god.
Hera and Aphrodite, fully aware that it would come to that, chose ordinary humans—
'...No.'
Frondier stopped there.
A sudden sense of incongruity.
'Granting divine power to a human because she’s beautiful...?'
Gods don’t give power to just any human.
Because it lowers their dignity.
Could mere beauty, from a god’s standpoint, be enough to preserve their dignity?
And would the two gods who stand at the pinnacle of beauty, by the standard of beauty, support humans who possess only beauty?
As Frondier felt that wrongness and accelerated his thoughts, Carla sighed as if lamenting.
“So now it looks like the one who received Poseidon’s divine power is trying to mediate between the two, but it doesn’t seem to be going well, and—”
“Sorry?”
Frondier cut off all thought and asked back.
Carla’s statement shattered all the assumptions up to now.
“What did you just say?”
“Eh? I mean...”
Flustered at Frondier’s question, Carla repeated herself.
“There’s a man named Karon who received Poseidon’s divine power, and he—”
“...Ms. Carla.”
Only then did Frondier realize.
He had been making one mistake.
A single mistake—but one so huge it changed everything.
“Poseidon cannot grant divine power right now.”
