The City Awaiting the Sun (1)

In the Hope Duchy.

Belial, or rather Wallace Hope, frowned and massaged his temples as he felt a sudden headache while working in his office.

“Hmm…”

It couldn’t be from the workload.

This was evidence that one of the roots of authority he had planted had been uprooted.

“Well, well…”

Wallace Hope let out a hollow laugh. <The Future Drawer> that he had invested maximum time and effort into controlling had been taken down.

An object imbued with life. At first, it was mere curiosity, but upon realizing it was a being without limits at that point.

He had planted the seed even at the cost of completely destroying the country he had been working on for humanity’s destruction.

Though it was a country created for destruction in the first place, he had even accelerated the timeline to obtain Pinocchio.

Yet such a carefully crafted work was suddenly destroyed?

“That one. That masked one.”

He had been bothered by him from their first meeting. That’s why he had subtly tried to deal with him.

So he sent Mez.

But ridiculously enough, Mez encountered <The Wanderer> who despised dark mages during transit.

Though Mez wasn’t quite at the level of a trial, he had the potential to be just below that. Such a being was absurdly killed.

At the time, he just found it absurd.

He simply thought that one was lucky and he was unlucky, deciding to look for the next opportunity.

It was a misjudgment.

“Indeed… Coincidences don’t happen twice in a row.”

Even <The Wanderer>’s timely appearance could have been planned.

Given that Hecate, the ruler of Necropolis, had ties with the Pantheon Temple in the past, it wouldn’t be strange if those connections hadn’t been severed.

He shouldn’t have thought of him as an ant he could crush anytime.

He should have killed him the moment he found him bothersome, even if it meant shouldering some risk.

“I missed my chance.”

There was a time when he could have killed him.

It would have been simple to directly twist and snap his neck.

He should have acted when he knew his direction of movement.

Rustle!

Wallace spread out a map. A country whose name colored most of the land was visible.

The Empire, <Eden>

His masterpiece that he had cultivated by conquering countries large and small, corrupting them from within, and feeding them seeds.

A country that could be said to have achieved world domination.

From the beginning, it was a country created to serve as a trigger for destruction.

He had poured hundreds of years into creating it.

Thanks to that, most of the map was colored red under Eden’s name.

“Now then… Let’s check.”

And numerous black dots were marked on that red-colored land.

The seeds he had planted. The harbingers of destruction that would turn all the red into black when the time came.

The most beautifully blooming seed among them had disappeared.

Thud.

Belial pointed to one spot.

His rival and biggest obstacle in all aspects except raw power.

The territory of Edge Forys, the grand mage.

He had met that masked man there.

It was when he went to check on one of the many seeds he had planted.

Since priests of the Pantheon Temple originally crawled around the world like insects, he hadn’t paid much attention.

So he thought the man had simply stumbled upon one of the seeds he had planted by chance. Of course, being one who didn’t leave bothersome things alone.

Naturally, he had tried to deal with him.

He just hadn’t given it his all.

He had made a mistake in the type of piece that needed to be moved by taking it lightly.

Thud.

Next, he pointed to where Mez had encountered <The Wanderer>.

This was when he should have moved.

Rather than just finding it unpleasant, he should have moved personally to kill him even considering the clash with <The Wanderer>.

Thud.

And finally, he pointed toward Nidavellir.

“Hmm…”

The path from Forys territory through Necropolis to Nidavellir.

It matches perfectly.

The man departed from Forys Duchy, passed through where Necropolis was moving, and arrived at Nidavellir.

The timing roughly matches too.

“But just roughly… Not enough to be certain.”

The puzzle pieces don’t quite fit.

The timing matches perfectly from when he departed Forys territory until arriving at Necropolis.

But what follows is subtly misaligned. Considering his previous travel speed, the time between arrival and resolution is far too short.

“Did he change transportation…?”

That would make sense.

If he changed his mode of transportation midway, it wouldn’t be impossible.

But where could he have gotten new transportation? Did he perhaps catch and tame a monster along the way? If that were possible, he would have done it long ago.

Then did he perhaps obtain transportation from Necropolis? No, given Hecate’s personality with her undead possessing free will, providing such transportation would be nonsensical.

Thud, thud.

He had suspicions but no certainty.

He lacked the pieces to confirm that the masked man and the one who attacked <The Future Drawer> were the same person.

It would take too much time to move just to confirm this.

If they happened to be different people, it might rather cause confusion in future plans.

“No. Whether they’re the same person isn’t what’s important right now.”

What’s important is simply the fact that someone interfered with his plans.

Forys territory and Nidavellir. If the seeds planted in both places were uprooted, it’s right to assume the opponent has grasped his plans to some extent.

Even if that’s just speculation, it’s naturally beneficial to think that way.

Then let’s consider. Assuming the opponent knows our plans.

How they found out isn’t important. What’s important is how much they know.

Thud, thud, thud.

Wallace tapped the map.

The opponent’s trail went cold at Nidavellir. He had missed the timing to confirm where they would head next.

“Hmm.”

Then Wallace drew lines from Nidavellir to cities that could be reached.

Calculating which villages they might pass through and where they might be heading gives at least 40 different possibilities.

With their travel speed also being uncertain, the options multiply further.

“I wonder how far…”

Wallace narrowed down several possibilities from the numerous options.

Assuming the opponent knows about his plans, at least five.

And if the opponent knows exactly about ‘him’, one.

“Kekeke.”

The former cases aren’t much of a problem. He has planted countless seeds, so it’s not strange if a few are discovered.

But what if they know about the essential plan, the plan that should be both secretive and serve as the most powerful means?

Moreover, what if they know about a sort of ‘assumption’ established due to recent coincidental events?

That’s beyond merely knowing the plans. It would mean the opponent has seen through his very existence.

Then here at last emerges the question he had previously brushed aside.

“How do they know?”

He had hidden in shadows for thousands of years. The history of the war of gods was long since erased.

Even without him directly erasing it, foolish humans created an organization called the heresy inquisitors and diligently erased it.

So only about three know about him.

Even among those, only two know exactly who he is.

And those two would never have revealed his existence to anyone.

Because their own existence would inevitably be exposed too.

Then there’s only one answer.

Himself. He revealed his existence to the opponent.

Then how?

“Did they see the future. Or did they come back through time.”

Impossible.

But if not that, then among impossible things, that’s all that’s left.

He doesn’t dismiss possibilities simply because they’re impossible.

From the start, anything is possible if gods are involved.

Those two possibilities will become important in future developments.

“Which are you?”

Wallace smiled while staring at one point on the map.

Written there was the name ‘<City Awaiting the Sun>, Rubia’.

“Kekeke.”

Click!

Just then, the office door opened and a young boy entered.

“Ah! You seem to be in a good mood today, Grandfather.”

“Hmm? Indeed.”

Wallace, who had been grinning eerily, now wore the face of a kindly old man as if nothing had happened.

With a smile that would brighten anyone’s mood just by looking at it.

“And how about our grandson? Did you like your fiancée?”

“Ah… Ahem! She, she wasn’t bad. She seemed like a good person.”

“Ha! Look at you putting on airs with such meaningless pretense? Your smile reaches your ears. Was she very pretty?”

“She was ordinary. Ahem, ordinary.”

“A man should be more honest. Don’t talk like that outside. Edge’s temperament is like fire – he’ll try to bury you with magic right away.”

“…Yes.”

Wallace smiled at his grandson who appeared like any ordinary youth his age. And he really was.

Though born with quite decent talent, he was still human after all.

“Don’t forget you need to work harder if you want to be useful to me later.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

“Yes, you must work hard. Indeed.”

After all, the personality built up while unaware of being a monster would later serve as an excellent dagger.

*     *      *

The optimal mode of transportation that had deceived even Belial’s eyes races across the land.

“Huff! Huff! Huff! Huff!”

That is to say, Titan was pulling the carriage at a fierce pace.

The carriage rode quite smoothly now, perhaps because Titan had grown accustomed to pulling it.

“Thanks to Lord Geppetto. To gift us such an excellent carriage…”

“The carriage is just extra. He gave you such a fine weapon, didn’t he?”

“You mean the weapon that shatters every bone in my body after one use?”

“Would other weapons be any different? For you right now with your one-shot limit, there’s nothing better than this.”

Lost thrust the sniper rifle in front of Claire’s face as she lay on a blanket spread on the carriage floor.

A weapon with minimized recoil that could convert holy power into ammunition like Lost’s revolver.

Of course, it had little use for Claire who couldn’t properly handle the holy power weighing down her body and whose bones would shatter even from that small recoil.

‘It’s frightening enough that ammunition forms despite having so little use.’

Though the recoil was minimized as much as possible, it was still a weapon focused on single shots.

Just firing one shot would break the shoulder bone it rested against, showing just how fragile Claire was.

“Remember this. When the time comes for you to shoot that. If you miss, you’ll die right there.”

“What helpful advice. Why don’t you just pray for my death while you’re at it?”

“You really have a nasty personality too.”

Lost sighed deeply while looking wearily at Claire who was sneering with a venomous attitude.

Claire still hadn’t grasped it yet.

Unlike Lost who had wandered back alleys, Claire was beloved by the gods from birth, yet she still didn’t understand.

In the future before his regression, she was already a paladin when they reunited.

That’s why he had no idea how the intermediate process had unfolded.

Of course, he could have found out then if he had tried…

‘We were just a bit awkward with each other.’

It was like that in the future too, but how could now be much different? After all, he was the murderer who killed Claire’s family.

They could maintain even this kind of relationship because Claire was trying her best to set aside personal feelings.

“Ugh.”

Lost idly poked Claire’s cheek with his finger as she lay there.

She was quite the burden, truly.

“Li-Linea-unnie… Lost is bullying me again.”

“What are you doing to a patient?!”

Linea, who had been examining the medical equipment set gifted by Geppetto, quickly turned around and smacked Lost’s back.

“I just poked her cheek. You think I would throw punches?”

“I told you before that even touching Claire like that isn’t allowed because her skin is sensitive!”

“Good grief…”

Getting scolded from all sides.

Lost missed Linea’s former gentle demeanor.

Though this was a good change. At least she wasn’t just watching people’s reactions anymore.

“Lost, look there.”

“Hm?”

Lost, who had been rubbing his smacked back with his palm, raised his head to the sky at Titan’s call, who had been quietly pulling the carriage.

“A wyvern pack.”

“Oh dear… It would take some time to turn back from here.”

“Then shall we hunt?”

Titan set down the carriage as if his muscles had been itching for action.

Though Lost hadn’t given any answer, the battle situation seemed already decided in Titan’s mind.

Since he wouldn’t listen even if stopped, Lost shrugged at Titan’s behavior and turned around.

“Claire, this is a good opportunity, so you try taking one down too.”

“Me too… Huh?”

Claire tried to say something that seemed displeased, but she couldn’t finish her words.

Because Titan was reaching out his hand behind Lost who had turned around.

“Listen well, Lost. Like last time, you go up first to draw their attention. When you lure them down to a low position, I’ll strike with my spear.”

“No, what nonsense…”

Lost’s words, unable to hide his bewilderment, couldn’t continue either.

Because before those words could finish, Titan grabbed Lost and threw him toward the sky where the wyvern pack was.

Lost flew in a straight line at first, then entered the middle of the wyvern pack before falling in a gentle arc toward the ground.

Titan furrowed his brow in puzzlement as he watched Lost flailing in the air before falling to the ground.

“Why isn’t he spreading his wings?”

Unfortunately, Lost’s wings showcased in the battle with Pinocchio were single-use and could no longer be spread.