<Chapter 66>
“I must meet the one who claimed the Celt ants attacked the vanguard.”
“Regrettably, that man has already departed to the goddess’s embrace.”
“Who was he?”
“Sir Awhin. Are you implying you now doubt the temple?”
The High Priest’s gaze sharpened.
“Your Holiness, I only seek to reveal the truth before the goddess.”
The High Priest remained silent for a moment, then stepped out of the tent. With a subtle gesture for Awhin to follow, he led him to a small tent beside the infirmary.
“Look. This is the truth.”
The soldier’s corpse upon the cot was far from a normal death.
His body had hardened like stone, crumbling as though dust would fall from it at a touch. His eyes, wide open, were pitch-black, with not even a hint of white remaining.
“This is… a reaction to Mahak poisoning?”
“Correct. This is the true nature of the plague. He deliberately unleashed an impure force to harm others.”
“Could the magic tool truly have…?”
Awhin murmured in confusion, and the High Priest spoke again, his voice gentle, almost soothing.
“Even if, as you say, the magic-tool maker did not intend this outcome—her mistake cost a man his life. Should we not vindicate the dead?”
If a life had indeed been lost because of a device Melody crafted, then she could not be declared wholly innocent.
Thinking of her face, he closed his eyes tight. She had followed them into unfamiliar wilderness to save lives, risking her own again and again, only to be rewarded with accusations of guilt? Awhin let out a low groan.
“But… she…”
“You seem troubled. Sir Awhin, return and rest for now.”
Should he overlook a single death? No—those touched by the plague were not few. It might not have been only one life lost. Had he been wrong to believe Melody was blameless?
Awhin could find no answer.
Inside the small tent, he knelt before the statue of the goddess, a whip in his hand. It was a habit formed whenever doubt crept into his heart.
But he no longer knew whether he was punishing himself for doubting the temple… or for what he felt toward Melody.
Then a voice came from outside.
“Um… are you inside?”
“Who is it?”
“It’s Rihelin. I have something to tell you.”
“Enter.”
Awhin quickly put on his robe. The pure white cloth stained with red almost instantly. Rihelin stepped inside—and froze at the sight.
“Heavens, Sir Awhin! You’re injured—I must treat—”
“No. Please don’t. I am unworthy of treatment.”
“If you are unworthy, then who on earth is? You should have gone to the infirmary at once!”
Clicking her tongue softly, Rihelin set down the basket she carried and reached toward him to heal him, but Awhin gently pushed her hand away.
“No. Please, don’t.”
Her gaze drifted past him, landing on the neatly placed whip.
“You punished yourself… didn’t you?”
“…Yes.”
“To carry out the goddess’s will correctly. But Sir Awhin, the goddess would never want you harmed. She granted you holy power so you might stand uninjured. Please—do not refuse healing.”
Melody’s words echoed faintly in his mind.
“Do not punish yourself. Let the many lives you saved take its place.”
Yet he had saved no one—not even Melody.
Awhin ultimately refused treatment and sent Rihelin away. And when dawn’s darkness settled over the camp, he slipped out of the tent.
He went to the tent where the corpse lay. Two guards stood drunkenly at the entrance, likely fresh from a feast.
“At least we won’t be seeing filthy monsters for a while. That’s a relief.”
“If the barrier breaks again, we might.”
“Don’t jinx it. I don’t want to hear such unlucky talk.”
It was easy for Awhin to slip behind the tent and enter unnoticed.
The body remained exactly as before. He placed his hand upon it and exhaled softly.
“For the sin that took your life, I shall take responsibility in Lady Melody’s stead.”
He poured divine power into the corpse, attempting to erase the signs of Mahak poisoning. The black tint in the eyeballs slowly faded—
—but only for a moment.
Soon, the whitened parts darkened once more.
Awhin’s brows trembled. There was only one reason the purification failed.
The Mahak remained inside the body.
His gaze dropped to the stiffened neck. Touching the skin, he found it brittle and breaking apart. Beneath it lay an intact lump of Mahak.
“…Goddess above.”
A sense of sinking dread washed over him. The man had indeed died from Mahak poisoning—but not from water tainted by a magic tool. Someone had fed it to him intentionally.
If this truth were revealed, Melody’s accusations would collapse. But—
Who would do such a thing?
This was a trap meant to condemn her. And the one capable of such fabrication…
After a long silence, he seized the Mahak tightly.
In the Ritmer Territory, now free of monsters, an unexpected trial was announced.
A trial for the magic-tool maker cast out for the crime of summoning monsters into the corrupted land.
Those charges had been quelled by testimonies from the survivors, but a new accusation emerged—her tools had spread disease, resulting in death.
The High Priest was a man who had awakened divine power and dedicated his life to the temple.
Thus, most of the expedition had believed him unquestioningly when he declared Melody guilty of summoning monsters. They saw him as the voice of the goddess.
But the moment Melody restored the barrier and returned bathed in radiant light, something began to shift among the people.
The scene had been too sacred, too wondrous.
The monsters falling lifeless, the beams of light cascading through the torn sky, and Melody emerging within it—she had looked almost unearthly.
She had no divine power, yet that day, no one could call her merely a magic-tool maker. She seemed more like someone sent by the goddess—more so than even the High Priest.
Suspicion began to grow among the crowd.
“Truthfully, wasn’t all this the temple’s failure to maintain the barrier? The magic-tool maker only tried to help.”
Some grumbled.
“If not for the magic-tool maker, I wouldn’t be alive. The barrier wouldn’t have been restored either.”
Testimonies from those who had survived strengthened the doubts spreading among the people.
And when it became known that among the countless wounded, only one or two nobles had received healing from the High Priest, resentment rose further.
On the day of the trial, knights dragged Melody forward with ropes. It was merely procedure. Until she was cleared of all accusations, she was still a prisoner.
