Children of the Holy Emperor

The flower village, filled with bright torches burning late into the night, seemed as if a festival was being held. Except that the torch-bearers were murderous bandits.

“We’ve divided into teams and spread out for the search, but their tracks remain elusive. Judging by their probable direction of movement, it seems they’re heading towards the northern gate of Carthago, but we can’t be certain.”

“From the very beginning, it wasn’t easy to track them as they deviated from the path…”

Jerome, with his cold face, was listening to the report and murmured out his words. “We’ve sent out all our search teams, and you’re saying we’ve yet to encounter even one of them?”

“One of our search teams was attacked, boss. But not much time had passed since they fled, so they’re likely far from that location by now.”

“We also have a missing member from one of the search teams. We’re suspecting he may have been attacked too…”

“It’s hard to find traces in the dark. Even if we were to deploy trackers, it would have to be after the sun rises tomorrow.”

Rodrigo was standing next to Jerome, listening to the report, then he glanced at a corner of the hut. 

Compared to his usual demeanor, Kaien was quietly sitting there, holding his head. To anyone watching, he looked like a young son despondent over his mother’s death. However, Rodrigo, who had known Kaien rather well, was aware that he was not the type to be so concerned with such matters.

For some reason, the boy’s current state didn’t seem normal. And his suspicion was accurate. Ever since Martha had died at the foot of the cliff earlier, Kaien was suffering from severe headaches. That suspicious devil-worshiper had done something to the boy.

‘My head hurts…’

Kaien bit his lip.

He was simply trying to completely devour Martha’s soul, which he had been feasting on for a long time, before she died. The soul of the dead didn’t taste good, after all.

[Eeehhh, Kaien—]

[Why me! Why me! Why me!]

[Aslan, Aslan, Aslan, Aslan…]

Sounds of strange cries from beyond the mountains could be heard. Sounds only audible to Kaien in this place. Ordinarily, these fools’ wailing was somewhat amusing to him, but now it was only intensifying his headache.

The scattered soul fragments strewn across the mountain were the remnants of his unfinished meals, poor things that had died before he could fully devour them. He had resolved not to waste such resources again, but an unexpected intruder had interfered.

‘What was that thing…?’

He initially thought it was just an ordinary person, but the soul that faintly revealed itself in front of Kaien was shrouded in an extraordinary light. Kaien had never seen a light so brilliant and overwhelming.

And from the moment it revealed itself, Kaien was tormented by strange tinnitus and severe headaches. Even the attempt to interfere with another person’s soul resulted in overwhelming nausea.

As the boy was groaning in a cold sweat, Rodrigo cautiously approached him. He was one of the souls Kaien had been voraciously devouring recently.

His weakened soul had already become a puppet, obediently following Kaien’s orders. Unlike Martha, who was sensitive, Rodrigo was too dense to recognize this sense of incongruity himself.

“…Go to the Carthago gate, Rodrigo.”

Kaien commanded without even looking at Rodrigo’s face.

Regardless of their escape route, they would eventually have to pass through the gate of Carthago. With a booze-addicted old man amongst them, they wouldn’t be able to hide in the mountains for long.

“Kill them all.”

Rodrigo trembled involuntarily at the strange madness flowing in the boy’s triclops. It was a fear that had been engraved deep into his soul without him even realizing.

“Kill them all, Rodrigo.”

* * *

Aslan woke up early at dawn.

The reason was that he heard what seemed like a soft conversation next to him.

“…Yes, have they arrived? You must’ve struggled to keep up with the time. Let Enrique know the meeting point too.”

“So, how’s Morres doing?”

“That was a bit premature. Was there a need to rush?”

What are they talking about?

“That underground thing, I guess. Seeing that he tried to use it immediately after I left, it didn’t seem like an important piece to him.”

“…No, it’s not that I intentionally avoided it…”

“…Sorry, I didn’t run away because I didn’t want to play chess.”

Ah, this was Bart’s voice. But he was not conversing, but rather, talking to himself.

“Alright, let’s stick to this. For the time being, let’s play chess twice a week…”

“…I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to…”

He really doesn’t seem to want to. His voice was becoming more and more strained.

Aslan opened his eyes and inadvertently called him.

“…Bart?”

The sight of him sitting, leaning against the cave entrance was visible. He was undoubtedly alone, but who had he been talking to?

But with his sleep-riddled, blurred vision, something unusual caught his eye. There were two forms wavering in front of Bart, as faint as mist.

Ghosts? Pale pink and light blue shadows…

Aslan blinked, and suddenly those strange shadows had disappeared. Rubbing his eyes again and looking, there was only Bart at the entrance of the cave.

Had he seen something nonexistent due to fatigue?

But something captured Aslan’s attention more than the ghosts he saw in his sleep-addled state, and it was Bart’s face. The face of Bart, who was silently staring at him, seemed strangely unfamiliar.

Aslan hesitantly asked, “Uh, Bart. Was your hair always that color? It seems a bit darker…”

Even under the dim morning light, his hair, which Aslan had thought was dark brown, definitely seemed darker than yesterday.

His face also seemed slightly different. Before, his features were clear and handsome but gave a somewhat vague impression, but now, his features seemed more distinct and somehow better? Huh?

The only thing that hadn’t changed was the silver-gray iris that occasionally shone with a strange gleam.

Bart, at Aslan’s words, tugged his hair and examined it from side to side, then nodded. “I’ve been here for a while. I suppose my synchronization rate is gradually increasing.”

Synchronization rate? What’s he talking about?

As he blankly stared at him, old Max, who had been squirming behind him, opened his eyes and yawned. “Geez. Sleeping outside at this age. But somehow my back doesn’t hurt in the morning, it’s bearable.”

He didn’t seem to feel anything strange about Bart. Perhaps because the changes were too subtle?

Aslan shook his head on his own, Bart got up and dusted off his robe.

“It’s a race against time now. They will eventually chase us to the Carthago portal, so our goal should be to get to the portal as fast as possible, without worrying about leaving traces.”

So they had been mindful of their tracks until now. I thought we were just running away blindly?

When Aslan gaped at him, Bart lifted one corner of his mouth.

“If they try to track us by the book, they should get lost a bit.”

Well, shall we get going?

Soon, a waterfall of divine power poured over the two men’s heads, announcing the forced march ahead.

Surprisingly, they were able to reach the well-maintained passageway by midday. They had crossed the tough western mountain range in a single day, taking an old man with them. Of course, it was the end of a hellish march, chewing rations while walking, and constantly overlaying divine power.

Although their bodies kept recovering, they were still exhausted, and it was a schedule that greatly drained their mental strength.

In a few hours, following the passageway down, they would reach the Carthago portal. Relief crossed the faces of Aslan and Max.

“It’s too early to relax. If they’ve been riding horses through the well-maintained passageway since yesterday, they could catch up.”

Even Bart, who said this, looked pale.

Aslan looked at him with a somewhat worried expression. The body, which was still not activated by aura, was anxiety-inducing, never knowing when it could collapse, and the cloth beneath the handcuffs that had been swung around since yesterday was already soaked in blood here and there. Of course, if the cloth was untied, the actual arm would be just fine.

More than anything, was it okay to continuously pour out so much divine power like that?

Bart walked with a trudge along the roadside, and upon reaching a large rock, he sat and spoke, “We may be pressed for time, but we need to wait for our point of contact here.”

“Point of contact?”

“Isn’t it impossible to sneak out of the gate?”

Ah. Aslan and old Max’s expressions grew grave.

The fact that they had been trying hard to ignore until now. Even if they safely arrived in Carthago, how would they, with their identities uncertain, get through the gate?

Fortunately, it seemed Bart had some kind of solution. With a nonchalant tone, he muttered into the air.

“This guy better not be too late……”

Just as he said that, someone suddenly swooped down in front of them. It was spooky how the person had appeared out of nowhere on the open thoroughfare1.

He was a man clad in dark attire, and except for a long wound stretching from his lip to his chin, he looked like a demure young man similar to a scholar.

The man, after taking a quick glance at the retreating Aslan and old Max, approached Bart and knelt down on one knee.

“Your Majesty.”

He seemed to know Bart.

Your Majesty? At this unexpected form of address, Aslan was frozen in place, but Bart cracked a faint smile.

“My senses have become dull, I didn’t even know you had arrived, Enrique.”

“It’s No.21, Your Highness.”

“……”

As the man responded bluntly, Bart, feeling something unusual, shut his mouth.

Sure enough, the man soon started pouring out his complaints in a hard tone.

“‘What the hell is going on here? Do you know how surprised I was to hear that you ordered me to investigate the top and the Flower Village, and then the next night you suddenly showed up at the Asein Branch? Why didn’t you just wait there like you did before, and I’ll take it upon myself to bring you news? What the hell was so urgent this time?”

“Well, sorry about that, Enrique. For some reason, I had a bad feeling about this……”

“It’s 21, Your Majesty. Thanks to you, the central branch of the guild in the capital is now in complete chaos! You give a pile of complicated and difficult orders, then just disappear like that, how the heck do you expect the people working underneath you are supposed to do?”

“Well……”

“Is that all? What about your notice to rendezvous from across the border? Even the fastest messenger in the continent can’t move like that! Even though I had to gallop my horse without proper sleep from Delcross to here for the last three days, do you know how much……”

The man trailed off. Despite his blunt and simple tone, there was a vividly felt, rising anger that was not fully suppressed within it. Aslan merely blinked, watching the two.

Bart, too, seemed to have picked up on his intense resentment. He tentatively reached out towards the man’s forehead, and then a bright light emerged from his hand, making the man’s tired eyes appear refreshed in an instant.

But what the man was focusing on was something else. He grabbed the handcuffs that had come close, then looked alternately at the blood-soaked bandages and Bart’s face, asking.

“What is this?”

“When I woke up in Asein, it was like this. I was confused at first too, but it turns out to be quite useful for hitting people in emergencies.”

The man’s expression turned strange.

“Don’t tell me this was filled to be used as a weapon?”

“…Hmm.”

Bart’s face visibly darkened.

“Tell the head of the Asein branch to express any complaints verbally.”

“I’ll try, but I’m not sure. Isn’t this a complaint to come and listen in person since there are so many grievances?”

“……”

“Now that Your Majesty can’t use an aura, who else could cut only the handcuffs with an aura blade, without cutting Your Majesty’s arm in this area, other than him?”

At his blunt words, Bart, surprisingly, lifted his head with a slightly brighter face.

“I had been considering something. I felt sorry to ask that young boy, but……”

Then, Enrique, or 21, looked sharply at him.

“I can guess what you’re thinking. Cut only the handcuffs, and the vein of the arm will naturally attach itself. Or, even if the arm falls off, it can be reattached. Is that what you’re going to say? Sorry, but I can’t cut this lump of iron with one strike.”

“No, rather than that……”

“Don’t tell me you want me to just cut off the arm. I won’t do it.”

“……”

Wow, the range of thoughts is indeed different when one has superhuman healing ability.

Listening to their conversation, Aslan, who had been watching from the side, unconsciously swallowed hard and thought so.

A road