Gervasio — Descent of a Goddess
“Terza, do not resist,” spoke Erwaermen. “Accept it all. Fill your vessel and allow not a single drop to spill. Become one with Mestionora’s wisdom.”
Despite my attempts to explain that my name was Gervasio, not Terza, Erwaermen continued to address me as he pleased. It seemed the gods understood only the name under which one was initially registered. Hearing it was somewhat unpleasant and reminded me of my time in the villa, but I did not care; my only concern was receiving the Book of Mestionora despite having moved to Lanzenave.
Erwaermen’s voice filled me with bliss, as did the stream of knowledge raining down on me as light. I could not contain my satisfaction about having obtained the Grutrissheit; with it, I could finally become the Zent. I had been raised a branch royal in Yurgenschmidt only to be sent away to Lanzenave upon coming of age and made to support the entire country alone as the sole owner of a schtappe. But now... I would overturn that cursed fate.
My cheer was immeasurable, but it lasted only a moment. Such a vast wealth of knowledge was hard to absorb. Matters that piqued my interest came continuously to mind, and pausing to focus on them cost me the information that followed. Casting aside all resistance was easier said than done, and Erwaermen chastised me with each mistake.
“Hmm...?”
Out of nowhere, the light of wisdom had vanished. I could not tell how much time had passed, but I could sense that its disappearance was premature. I opened my eyes, confused.
“Was that all...?” I asked.
“No, it was not.” Erwaermen stared quizzically up at the sky. “I wonder, what is going on?”
As I suspected, the process was not complete. Erwaermen muttered that the gods were still connected. I cautiously looked up as well, unsure what was happening—and the light returned.
“What?!” I cried.
“Hmm. So it had yet to finish. Accept the knowledge. Do not resist.”
So he said, but the light soon vanished again. I could not even begin to fathom the reason. Erwaermen looked up at the sky a second time, then muttered that the process had indeed concluded.
“Terza, confirm that you have obtained the Book of Mestionora.”
“At once. Grutrissheit.”
It appeared in my hands. I trembled with emotion as I opened the cover... and then blanched with horror. The text was full of gaps, and the pages near the end were completely blank, indicating an unmistakable failure to absorb all the knowledge.
“The interruption must be to blame,” Erwaermen said. “This is my first time encountering such an occurrence. I can say only that your Book of Mestionora is incomplete, which makes you insufficient as a Zent candidate.”
My breath caught in my throat, and my fingers dug into my Book of Mestionora. This strange turn of events had never even crossed my mind. If the gods abandoned me now, my work would all have been for nothing.
“Is there a way to compensate for the wisdom I lost?” I asked, eyeing Erwaermen carefully.
“As I recall, I was once told that Zents of the past supplemented their incomplete Books with knowledge from a certain archive. If you can find it, you might be able to make up for your failings.”
He was likely referring to the archive beneath the Royal Academy’s library. I recalled the door that had denied me entry, and a wave of bitterness washed over me. If not that archive, it was bound to be another somewhere in the royal palace that only the Zent could enter.
I would not be able to move forward without becoming the Zent.
That girl... I wonder whether her Book of Mestionora is complete.
She was that archduke candidate who circled the shrines before me, failed to enter the underground archive, and then disappeared from the upstairs of the reading room. She was said to be capable of performing ceremonies with true divine instruments, and the Sovereign temple had requested possession of her in exchange for their cooperation.
Rozemyne—that was the name Raublut had given for her. She had doubtless visited this place before me. If word spread that she was the gods’ favorite to become the next Zent, no strings Raublut could pull would change that outcome.
“How are there three Zent candidates, yet none of you have a complete Book of Mestionora?” Erwaermen complained. “Good grief, this generation...”
Judging by his remark, Rozemyne’s Book of Mestionora was also flawed in some way. I should have been relieved, but my focus was drawn to the third apparent Zent candidate. Raublut had mentioned nothing of the sort. Detlinde proclaimed to be one, but she was lacking mana, elements, and intelligence; there existed no world in which she had made it here.
“Erwaermen, might I ask about the other Zent candidates?”
“They are Myne and Quinta.”
To my shock, neither name belonged to the archduke candidate Raublut had told me about. Perhaps Myne was Rozemyne; the latter name did contain the former, and the fact she had two in the first place told me she was no ordinary noble. There were bound to be secrets surrounding the circumstances of her birth.
“Quinta,” however, I immediately recognized—it was one of the names used to number young seeds destined to become feystones. Only upon leaving the Adalgisa villa would one receive a proper name; I was born Terza and then called Gervasio by my mother when I was baptized and relocated to the side building. This other Zent candidate could only have been Ferdinand, he who had also escaped the villa.
“They each have only a portion of the same Book,” Erwaermen continued. “I instructed them to fight to the death so that one could claim the remains from the other, but I cannot say when that might happen... Quinta’s rudeness considered, I would rather Myne complete her book and become the Zent.”
The other two candidates were in a position more troublesome than my own. One might think that put me at an advantage, but I needed to be wary of one of them dying and the other completing their Book.
And then it hit me.
Is it not likely that Quinta has already died, allowing Myne to obtain a complete Book?
Leonzio had informed me that Detlinde’s instant-death poison had not actually turned Ferdinand into a feystone. She had instead sealed him in Ahrensbach’s Mana Replenishment hall, where his mana was slowly being drained. Ehrenfest had requested—and received—royal permission for Rozemyne to charge to his rescue, but Raublut had said nothing about his fate. I was told only that Ahrensbach’s foundation was stolen and that the new aub imprisoned the Lanzenavians in the duchy.
Assuming that Myne was Rozemyne and Quinta was Ferdinand, it was possible she had gone not to save him but to absorb the wisdom from his feystone.
“Still...” Erwaermen said, “perhaps Yurgenschmidt’s mana crisis is to blame for these unprecedented obstructions. This is the first time since its founding that the country’s foundation has been this close to drying out completely.”
That danger was the only reason he had yet to dispose of us.
Erwaermen continued, “Problems have arisen wherever one looks. We have a lackluster pool of candidates, but they will have to do. The alternative is total annihilation. Terza—fill the foundation at once.”
I did not know how to reach it. The information was missing from my Book of Mestionora and could not be searched for—a consequence of not having obtained all the knowledge, no doubt.
If nothing else, I suspect Raublut can tell me where the royals supply their mana.
Despite the unexpected trouble, I now had a Book of Mestionora and the understanding that the other Zent candidates’ Books were also incomplete. Moreover, Erwaermen’s command that I replenish the foundation could be considered a formal recognition of my status as a candidate. That was a good enough result.
“As you will,” I said. “I shall go to the foundation as quickly as I can.”
An exit then appeared, which deposited me atop the Royal Academy’s altar. I gazed down and saw an intense battle being fought below. There were capes of colors other than the familiar black and silver; other duchies must have noticed Raublut’s maneuvering.
Raublut was protecting the altar to shield me and cried out for me to reveal my Grutrissheit. I spoke my chant, and the goddess-given book appeared. It looked entirely like the bible; one could not tell at a glance that its pages were incomplete. Those below fervently extolled me as the true Zent.
And with that, Yurgenschmidt should acknowledge my claim to the throne.
I was relieved, but only for a moment; a young woman shouted, “Grutrissheit!” elsewhere in the auditorium. It had not occurred to me that another Zent candidate might be here. That was Myne, no doubt.
Did she take Quinta’s knowledge and come to meet Erwaermen as one with a complete Book of Mestionora? Did she come into conflict with Raublut in the process?
As I pondered, Myne began praying to the gods and strengthening her allies. Such prayers had never come up during my education, nor had Raublut informed me of them. I was learning for the first time that one’s prayers could reach the gods in Yurgenschmidt.
I opened my Book of Mestionora, wondering whether I, too, could grant such blessings. Its pages were covered with prayers to the gods.
These must be them.
I read the prayers aloud. My mana was drained and turned into a blessing that invigorated my comrades.
“Hmm. It would appear the gods grant me their blessings as well...”
The convenience of my Book and the might of the gods hit me all at once. I was moved, though I also understood what a grave threat Myne posed. She was Erwaermen’s favorite to become the next Zent. She had obtained the Book before I obtained mine and clearly understood it better than I did. And worst of all, once she was adopted, she would no doubt gain access to the archive beneath the library.
Even as a young woman yet to come of age, she seems to be the dominant Zent candidate.
I was focused on Myne, wanting to see what else her Book could do, when someone hit me with a surprise attack. Quinta had appeared atop the altar, having somehow managed to reach me. His appearance alone made it clear that we were blood relatives. He bore the distinct features of my elder sister Seradina.
So he lives.
I was surprised to see him. Erwaermen had instructed my fellow Zent candidates to slay each other. That they were both here, alive, told me their Books were still incomplete.
Now then, which of them do I stand to gain more from?
I considered which of my opponents to keep alive while Quinta continued to target me. His strikes were rapid but unworthy of note; they bore little force or mana. So much for attacks only Zent candidates with the Book of Mestionora could perform. He made no attempt to even form his, so I could not learn from his example.
Should I dispatch him now and take his feystone before Myne can?
I moved to use the instant-death poison against Quinta, but Myne cried out before I could. A deluge of water swept through the auditorium below.
Is that a waschen?! Never have I seen one so fierce!
As my eyes widened in surprise, the whirlpool spat Myne up into the air. She fell toward us, so I grabbed and threw an offensive magic tool.
“Rozemyne!”
“Guh!”
Quinta hit me while I was distracted. Though I expected him to press the attack, he unmade that strange weapon of his and instead shot bands of light from his schtappe at Myne. It gave me more than enough time to drink a rejuvenation potion. I wanted to strike him while he was pointing up at the air, but a counter from Myne’s charms stalled me.
Ngh...
The moment I raised my shield above my head, Quinta threw a magic tool with his free hand. I could not guard against both attacks. Myne was rescued as I covered my face.
But why save her? And why are they both working against me?
They should have been trying to kill one another, but instead they were cooperating.
In terms of mana, neither one of my opponents posed a threat to me. I could easily eradicate them. The problem was that killing one would complete the other’s Book of Mestionora, which would put me in an even more troublesome situation.
Myne is far more dangerous than Quinta.
From what I could sense, her mana paled in comparison to my own. How curious, then, that she had not seemed to spend much through her prayers and magic.
I was unsure how to control my mana when it was being drawn from my body on its own, and the blessings I granted my allies had drained me even more than expected. Anyone who prayed for their comrades surely did so at the cost of their own combat potential, but Myne seemed entirely unfazed.
Am I simply not used to praying? Or does she have an abundance of top-quality rejuvenation potions?
On top of that, I could not have cast a waschen large enough to flood the auditorium. Her every action was beyond me, including what she was doing now.
“Grant me your shield of Wind, so that I might blow away those who mean to cause harm.”
Myne prayed, and a dome formed around her with the same sharp noise as a blade being drawn. The divine instruments in the hands of the statues around us began to shine as if responding to her mana. Her actions were beyond prediction, and merely standing in her presence made me feel as though I were staring into a bottomless pit.
“Quinta is not someone you should protect,” I said. “In fact, as I understand it, you are duty bound to kill him and complete your Book. Was that not the order you received, Myne?”
“Cease your useless prattle and die,” Quinta said calmly. He swung his sword and sent a ball of rainbow mana toward me.
I recognized this attack. It was simple enough—charged mana launched with a swipe—and its power depended on one’s capacity. As one raised in Yurgenschmidt, I considered it nothing new.
Is that the best he can do? A simple charged attack?
Quinta was relentless, but his slight mana capacity and simplistic attacks made for a placid assault. I readied my shield, then leapt back to follow the mana and swung my short sword. I would slice open the flow of my opponent’s mana to create a safe spot. Avoiding the attacks of those with such little mana tended to be trivial.
Before I could slice through the attack, however, the statues around us drained the mana from my sword. Quinta’s orb shone brilliantly but was also absorbed before it could reach me. The divine instruments in the statues’ hands flashed, and pillars of light crossed through the air.
I suddenly felt weightless and like a strange force was pulling me somewhere. Then I was back in the Garden of Beginnings. I could conclude only that the gods had teleported us here. Erwaermen looked even more displeased than before, so I immediately knelt, feeling some surprise about the nature of our situation.
“What in the world are you three candidates doing?” Erwaermen snapped. “Yurgenschmidt must be replenished with mana posthaste.” He was exceptionally displeased at Myne and Quinta for keeping me from reaching the foundation.
I can only hope he smites them both for me.
In contrast to my show of respect, Quinta made his Book of Mestionora and protested. Myne was outright ignoring Erwaermen, too focused on trying to glimpse her companion’s bible.
“Oh, come on! Let me read it for a little while! Don’t be selfish!”
Did they not realize their predicament? They were standing before a former god. I now understood why Erwaermen had called Quinta insolent.
Erwaermen refused to accept Quinta’s explanation. He ordered the man to disappear, then raised a hand and unleashed a slew of attacks. His expression did not change and his stance seemed relaxed, but each ball of divine mana was powerful enough to match the strongest attack I could muster. Quinta’s shield and charms shattered one by one.
“Go forth, Terza,” Erwaermen instructed. “Replenish this country’s foundation.”
I stood up to answer his call. There could not be a better outcome than the gods taking my side and eliminating my enemies. But my opponents were tenacious; even while weathering Erwaermen’s attacks, Quinta managed to shoot me in the thigh. I crumpled to the ground, having lost my charms in our battle atop the altar. Erwaermen’s support had put me too much at ease. I went to drink a rejuvenation potion.
“I told you not to interfere, Quinta.”
Erwaermen was enraged. Quinta had angered the gods and would surely be eliminated. I, on the other hand, was being asked to replenish the foundation. I waited patiently for the healing to complete, assured of my safety.
Myne jumped in front of Quinta to protect him from Erwaermen’s attacks. They would die together, I thought, but Myne cast another spell I did not recognize.
“Finsumhang!”
She spread out a black cape that absorbed Erwaermen’s divine mana. I could not believe my eyes. Though she grimaced in pain, she shot her hands up into the air, and a radiant beam formed above them. Light rained down from the sky in response, enveloping her in a cocoon that slowly ascended.
Now what?!
I could not fathom what Myne was doing, but Erwaermen seemed to understand; he stared at her in disbelief and muttered, “Mestionora?” Quinta simply watched in surprise, no longer having to endure an onslaught of attacks.
The cocoon slowly took human shape. Myne had returned. Her body flashed, and she stayed floating in midair. The light surrounding her remained as if radiating from within her. She slowly opened her eyes, which were more golden than before, and an overwhelming force compelled me to kneel. This being was on another level from me—a single glance confirmed it.
“Rozemyne!”
Quinta reached out to touch Myne but was immediately thrust back.
“Stand down, insolent one,” she said. Her voice was the same, but her tone was stern and dignified. There was a haughty look in her eyes, and the aura she exuded was far heavier than before. Though the being before us took Myne’s form, she was something else entirely.
“How rare of you to descend,” Erwaermen said. “Pray tell, what became of Myne?”
The being forced Quinta to his knees, then floated over to Erwaermen. “Rozemyne is in my library,” she said with a kind smile that could not have been further from the look of contempt she had given me and my fellow Zent candidate. “She asked me to save Quinta and quell your wrath.”
So... Myne summoned and manifested the Goddess of Wisdom? Is such a thing even possible?
Mestionora reached out to Erwaermen. “I shall grant you a portion of my heavenly power.”
“Are you certain...?” he asked, wearing a troubled frown.
“Wait a moment,” Quinta said. “You took Rozemyne’s form, but did she consent to you giving her power to Erwaermen?”
He was right to be concerned. Outside of emergencies, humans only shared their mana with their parents or maternal siblings, or when dyeing another’s mana in the case of a marriage or engagement. Erwaermen’s reaction made it clear that giving one’s “heavenly power” was just as abnormal.
The Goddess of Wisdom smiled and nodded. “She gave me permission to use her body as I please. I wish to save you, Erwaermen, so I am deeply relieved to have this opportunity. Come now.” Her cheeks flushed with joy as she took one of his hands. She asked that he raise the other, then exhaled and took it as well. Heavenly power gathered in her palms before moving into him.
We could only watch as Erwaermen was given new life. I could not say how much time passed, but the two eventually separated.
“Though our current Zent candidates are not without their flaws, we should not reduce their number,” Mestionora said. “I hereby forbid the taking of any lives.” Then she turned to Quinta and me. “That goes for everyone.”
“Does this decree apply only to Zent candidates, or does it include those who came with me to Yurgenschmidt?” I asked. This was my chance to protect the Lanzenavians who followed me.
“It applies to all. The mana shortage is so extreme that we cannot waste any more lives.”
“Wait,” Quinta said. “Those who violated the laws of men must be punished. Would you forbid that on the basis of the divine? Is it your decree that crimes must not be disciplined?”
“Indeed. All life must be treasured. Those who violate my decree shall face divine punishment.”
“Humans can die prematurely as the result of starvation, disease, and feybeast attacks. Would such incidents also warrant the gods’ wrath?”
“I forbid only the deliberate taking of life. Deaths that result from one’s environment do not count.”
Quinta gave a resigned nod, having deduced that the Goddess of Wisdom could not be swayed. “Very well. I shall inform the royal and archducal families before we punish our prisoners. More important, however, is the matter of the new Zent. Only those who have spent their lives in Yurgenschmidt should be allowed to lead its nobles. The throne cannot go to the king of a foreign nation.”
Quinta argued that I was ignorant of the nuances of ruling Yurgenschmidt and overall unsuited to becoming its Zent. Erwaermen was quick to discard that notion.
“My wish is for a new Zent to be born posthaste. I desire nothing else in particular. He who is motivated to rule may take the throne.”
“Erwaermen,” I said, “please decree that I am the new Zent.” I explained Lanzenave’s situation to him and Mestionora, stating that I wished to take the throne in part to reward those who had assisted me. Moreover, when it came to quickly dyeing a foundation, those with more mana were obviously superior. I was better suited to rule.
“Do you wish to take the throne in his place?” Mestionora asked Quinta.
He thought for a moment, then said, “No, I do not. I wish to give the current royal family a magic tool Grutrissheit, minimizing the risk of any further discord, and revive the religious ceremonies of the past. In the long term, I shall ensure that more people obtain Books of Mestionora, returning us to the days when Zents were chosen from a pool of viable candidates.”
“A respectable goal,” Erwaermen agreed. “But it would take far too long. I do not care who takes the throne. Replenishing the foundation and keeping Yurgenschmidt alive are my main priorities.”
“So if I replenish the foundation, you will give me free rein to act as I please?” Quinta asked.
“Correct. Once the foundation is full, I shall again step back from the world of men.”
Quinta and I stared one another down. Not being able to kill would make it hard to eliminate my enemies and secure the foundation. The fighting would not stop until we had a fair way to decide who would take the throne, but nothing nonlethal came to mind.
“O Goddess of Wisdom,” I said, “please lend us your guidance. How can we decide the next Zent fairly and without death?”
“In the past, candidates compared the size of their Books, looking to see whose had the fewest gaps. But that would not be fair in this case.” The goddess sat on Erwaermen’s shoulder and pondered. “Whatever shall we do?”
“From the gods’ perspective, what are the most desirable qualities of a Zent?” Quinta asked. “Popularity? Mana capacity?”
“Mana capacity is essential, of course. I would also rather the candidate show mastery of using the Book I granted them. Erwaermen, what do you think?”
“I do not care as long as Yurgenschmidt is replenished.”
“I see...” Quinta paused in thought. “Over the course of this war, we have filled the country gates of Wind, Fire, and Darkness. Could we compete to also fill the gates of Earth, Water, and Light?”
We could demonstrate our talent for manipulating mana by searching our Books for the relevant teleportation circles and then drawing them. The more mana one had, the faster one could supply it, meaning our capacities could also be compared. And most important of all, our race would go toward replenishing Yurgenschmidt, making it a fruitful endeavor for Erwaermen. Both gods were in support of the idea.
“One must have the Book of Mestionora to access the country gates, so indeed, this is a suitable competition for Zent candidates,” Erwaermen declared. “The gods may decide who goes to which gate.”
Quinta must have been exceptionally confident in his talents to have proposed this competition, as my mana capacity was far greater than his. He asked several more questions and used the answers to formalize rules.
As someone who had spent almost his entire upbringing in the Adalgisa villa, I did not know the location of any country gate except Ahrensbach’s. Unable to participate in the discussion, I elected to do some research instead.
“Terza, does your Book allow you to access the country gates?” Mestionora asked.
I checked. Indeed, my Book contained several relevant teleportation circles. They were pocked with holes, but it was nothing a little cross-referencing would not fix.
“Yes, Goddess.”
“Excellent.”
It seemed that Mestionora also wanted me to become the Zent. Myne was an element of uncertainty now that she had a goddess inhabiting her, but in a race to supply mana, I was at a clear advantage.
“Hmm...” Erwaermen paused in thought. “That reminds me, Mestionora—the light of your wisdom abruptly stopped while Terza was receiving his Book. Would you allow him to return here to obtain the rest?” He was concerned that my bible was still incomplete.
Mestionora’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly in response. She gestured me over to her, so I approached and opened my Book. A frown creased her forehead as she touched it.
“He can obtain the wisdom he lost while unfocused, but not the parts that were stolen from him,” she said. “More importantly... Terza, it would seem your Book contains only fragments of the path to the foundation.”
My entire body went rigid. The gods had discovered the secret I was trying to keep from them. It terrified me to think how Erwaermen would respond. He wanted someone who could replenish Yurgenschmidt “posthaste.”
“I see,” Erwaermen said, his tone sharp. “Terza would not be able to reach the foundation even upon becoming the new Zent.”
“Quinta, what about Myne’s and your Books?” Mestionora asked. She had called the girl “Rozemyne” before, though the significance of changing to “Myne” was lost on me.
He shook his head, not even bothering to make his Book for the goddess. “Mine is fragmented, so I expect hers is as well.”
“In that case, I shall guide whoever wins to the foundation,” Erwaermen decided.
I exhaled, relieved. There was hope for me yet.
“For this to remain a fair contest, the gods should refrain from helping or showing favoritism,” Quinta said. “It seems to me that you both prefer Gervasio.”
Mestionora accepted, but only for the duration of our race. She said it was only natural for the gods to favor those they liked and who prayed to them regularly while refusing to grant their protection to those who annoyed them. I took that to mean the gods thought positively of me.
Or they simply dislike Quinta.
Quinta had tried to attack Erwaermen mere moments ago, so Mestionora was anything but fond of him. She had been lightly Crushing him ever since her arrival.
“My work here is done, so I shall take my leave. Call out to Myne if you want her to return. I would advise that Terza do it; Quinta’s voice might not reach her anymore.”
“What have you done to her?!” Quinta exclaimed, his expression morphing into one of horror.
Mestionora cocked her head and stared down at him, still on Erwaermen’s shoulder. “I played with her mind to make her body easier to control, severing her connection to memories more important to her than her love of books. She did ask a goddess for help. Something of this nature cannot come without sacrifice.”
Having a goddess descend and grant one’s wish came at an even heavier cost than expected. Books were important, but I doubted they could ever outweigh a person’s memories of their loved ones. Myne must have forgotten almost everything about her life.
Mestionora concluded, “The voice of someone she has forgotten is unlikely to reach her in my library.”
“Is there a way to repair memories that have been severed...?” Quinta asked at length.
I cared painfully little about this mess—it had nothing to do with me—but Quinta was intent on learning more from the goddess. She replied that channeling mana into Myne would restore her memories related to that one person but also indicated that Myne’s body would resist the mana of someone who was now a stranger to her.
“How would she react to someone she cannot even remember forcing his mana into her? You believe in the importance of permission, do you not? But most of all, Quinta... would you rather she remembers you or has forgotten you?”
The goddess gave Quinta a venomous smile and then vanished. The light radiating from Myne’s body began to fade, and she gently descended from Erwaermen’s shoulder.
“Rozemyne!”
Quinta rushed over and caught her body. He cried out her name again and again, but she did not react. Her memories of him really had been severed—an indication that she had cared about him more than books.
I was fine with the girl staying unconscious forever, but Quinta embraced her, took her hands in his, and started channeling his mana into her. Again and again, he called out to her. She must have been precious to him, for he was leaving himself wide open—unlike when we had fought atop the shrine.
I would never expect such compassion from my nephew.
His naked desperation almost made me laugh. He was showing weakness to an enemy—to a man he had tried to slaughter before Mestionora’s intervention. There were countless ways to eliminate one’s foes without killing them, whether it be through imprisonment, blackmail, or luring them into a trap. One had to be a genuine fool to deliver themselves to their opponent moments before a contest for the throne.
“Erwaermen, is she likely to return at all?” I asked. “If time is of the essence, we can leave her here and exclude her from the race.”
I expected to be met with agreement, but Erwaermen’s urgency had vanished since receiving Mestionora’s power. He gazed upon Myne and Quinta and said, “Be patient for now. Mestionora wanted all three of you to compete. The will of a goddess is best followed, so let us wait and see whether Quinta gets through to her.”
Disobeying the divine was out of the question, so I took out another of my rejuvenation potions and agreed to wait. For a reason unbeknownst to me, my mana had yet to fully recover. Maybe the battle atop the altar had drained me more than I thought, my wounds were slowing my regeneration, or the potions themselves were simply too weak. In any case, a mana-dependent contest lay ahead of us, so it made sense to focus on replenishing mine.
I seem to be running low.
I checked my supply of potions and frowned. Circling the shrines had cost me several, not to mention pouring mana into Mestionora’s statue. I had used a potion before obtaining my Book, then another in the auditorium. I drank the one in my hand, leaving me with only one.
“You are Rozemyne, correct? Give me a proper response.”
Myne regained consciousness just as my mana finished recovering. She engaged in some foolish back-and-forth with Quinta, once again acting like they were oblivious to the gravity of our situation. I only had so much patience, so I interjected and asked whether they were ready. That was when Myne finally came to her senses.
“Ah... Aaah! It’s all coming back to me! We were in the heat of battle!”
The goddess’s power lingered within her, causing her to glow a little, but her words and deeds were anything but divine. Watching her fumble was like witnessing Mestionora’s descent into madness. She was sullying my beautiful memories of the goddess, so I wished she would keep her mouth shut.
“We have no more time to waste,” Erwaermen announced. “The race will now begin. The gods shall decide your destinations for you.”
Light rained down on the three of us. Mine was golden, belonging to the Goddess of Light, meaning the divines had given me Gilessenmeyer.
“Now go,” Erwaermen said. “Forge your own teleportation circles and replenish the country gates.”
We all shouted, “Grutrissheit!” and made our Books of Mestionora. My research had given me enough information to draw the teleportation circle I needed. It was complex, but with a steady hand—
“Copy and place!”
A sudden cry drew me from my thoughts. I instinctively looked at Myne and saw she had drawn a teleportation circle in mere moments.
“What was that?” Erwaermen asked, sharing my confusion.
Myne did not respond; she simply teleported to Klassenberg with a smug look on her face. I frantically searched my Book of Mestionora but saw no record of the spell she had used.
“You will not find it,” Quinta said. “She created it from scratch.”
I gazed up from my Book and saw my opponent draw his own teleportation circle much faster than I expected. The speed with which his hand moved made his experience all too clear. No wonder he had proposed this race despite his inferior mana capacity.
My time as Lanzenave’s king had accustomed me to moving mana around, but the country had no materials containing any. My only chances to brew were when repairing magic tools that already existed. I was inexperienced with drawing magic circles and expected the process would take me longer than the others.
That said, his advantage is minor. It will not stop me from retaking the lead.
As I focused, trying to draw as quickly as I could, Quinta shot my hand. I dropped my Book of Mestionora and slumped over, creating an opportunity he used to shoot and destroy my teleportation circle.
“What?! You coward...!”
“We were instructed not to kill one another,” Quinta said plainly. “There were no rules against mere obstruction. That wound will not prove fatal; this rejuvenation potion will close it for you.” He sneered and threw a capped bottle in my direction. It clattered along the white stone and rolled over to me.
“Hmm... Indeed,” Erwaermen mused, agreeing with my opponent for some unfathomable reason. “There were no rules against you interfering with one another. It is poor manners, but this would not be the first time Quinta has been so tactless.”
Having managed to delay me, Quinta held up his Book next to his completed circle and said, “Kehrschluessel. Klassenberg.” To my surprise, he was going not to his own gate but to Myne’s. She must have been partway through replenishing it.
I was unsure what to think. Quinta had already obstructed me; was he now going to interfere with Myne? He had seemed so desperate to protect her a moment ago, but perhaps he had only been trying to fool me and earn her trust. If so, his heart was as black as the darkest night. I could not allow the plans of such an evil man to come to fruition.
“Erwaermen. I require assistance...”
Restorative blessings could only be used on others, and uncapping a potion with a wounded hand was no easy feat. Thus, I called upon the only other person with me. Even if he could not heal me, he would at least be able to summon someone.
However, Erwaermen merely cocked his head at me. “Hm? What are you saying, Terza? It was just established that gods cannot intervene. Quinta gave you a potion—use it. If you do not act quickly, the others may steal an even greater march on you.”
Can he not see my wound...? And in any case, how can he expect me to use Quinta’s rejuvenation potion? The man openly declared that he wished to obstruct me. Does Erwaermen truly believe this concoction is genuine? I thought he wanted me to become the Zent over the other two.
I was stunned that we saw the situation so differently. It reminded me of Quinta’s remark that the ways of men and gods could not be compared. The gods’ incomprehensible perspective and my uncertain future swirled unpleasantly in my heart.
It is much too late to back out.
Using my limp hand, I somehow managed to bring my last rejuvenation potion up to my lips and drink it. I could feel it working, but it was taking a suspiciously long time to heal my wound. Just what had Quinta shot me with? I anxiously waited for the pain to fade, then resumed drawing my circle.
“Kehrschluessel. Gilessenmeyer.”
The teleportation circle took me to a room with rainbow walls. I had passed through country gates when leaving Yurgenschmidt for Lanzenave and when returning via Ahrensbach, but this was my first time properly entering one.
Zents are required to open and close these gates as well as supply them with mana.
My thoughts wandered to days gone by. Though I grew up a branch royal, unlike my sisters, I was never permitted to attend the Royal Academy. I was the future king of Lanzenave, so I was encouraged not to learn about Yurgenschmidt and to instead focus on the country I would go on to rule. I went along with it back then, but now I understood the true reason. Listening to Quinta and Erwaermen speak in the Garden of Beginnings had opened my eyes to the fact that more had been kept from me than I realized.
But now I can carry out my own research.
I checked my Book to see what I should do next, then pressed it against the nearest wall. Mana passed through it and into the country gate.
Quinta’s obstruction had delayed my teleportation, but this race was far from over. Myne was probably facing her own problems, and Quinta was wasting his time trying to interrupt us. Impatience took over, and I pressed my Book against the wall with greater force, hoping my mana would move faster.
“Huh?!”
My hand suddenly twisted in the air, causing me to stumble forward. I could not comprehend the reason, but then I tried to channel more mana into the gate. My Book of Mestionora had vanished.
“Does this mean I finished supplying the gate?”
I decided to consult my bible. If nothing else, it would tell me how to confirm that my work here was done.
“Grutrissheit... Grutrissheit!”
No matter how many times I repeated the spell, my Book did not reappear. In fact, I could no longer even form my schtappe. Such an important tool that had been with me since just before my coming of age was gone.
“What is going on?!” I exclaimed. “What is happening?!”
My voice quavered. I was unaware of anything that could cause one’s schtappe to disappear—another inadequacy in my education, perhaps. And without my Book of Mestionora, I could not investigate what was happening or how to resolve it.
My mind went blank, and my throat burned as it became hard to breathe. I searched my belongings and the inside of the gate for anything that might help me, but there was nothing. Not a single means of escape. I could not even open the gate and pass through Gilessenmeyer.
Could this be another of Quinta’s obstructions?
The thought came to me as I once again looked around, feeling more and more like I was trapped in a cage. His sneer upon shooting me in the hand said it all. I could not prove it, but I was convinced this was all part of his scheme.
I choked, so overcome with rage that my body trembled and my head started to burn. This was beyond cruel. I raised my hand, now without a schtappe, and slammed it against the nearest wall.
In accordance with his promise to the goddess, Quinta had not taken my life. I was still alive. But alive or not, without a schtappe, I could not live as a Yurgenschmidt noble or even return to being the king of Lanzenave.
If I failed to become the Zent, what would happen to Raublut and the others who assisted me? How would those who came from Lanzenave be punished? The country’s ivory buildings would collapse without a schtappe-wielding king to succeed me. The faces of wives, children, and grandchildren I had wanted to bring to Yurgenschmidt flashed through my mind.
“O gods, is such malicious obstruction permitted in a contest to decide the true Zent?! I beseech you to punish Quinta! To save me! Evil of this nature must not be forgiven!”
But no matter how much I shouted, my schtappe never returned, and my prayers did not reach the gods.
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