Vol 3 Chapter 72: “Magic”

By the time Sukui reached the grand cathedral, everything was already over.

It wasn’t something Sukui couldn’t have foreseen. He understood this outcome in hindsight.

Horo, driven by her desire to avenge Mei and the villagers and to protect Sukui, had stormed the cathedral on her own and killed Priest Mistul. In retrospect, this course of action almost seemed inevitable.

However, Sukui hadn’t accounted for it.

Rather, he had prioritized getting Horo out of harm’s way over considering any further developments.

The thought of Horo being placed in a situation where she might have to kill innocent worshippers of love weighed heavily on Sukui’s mind. Allowing her to face such circumstances could leave irreparable scars on her future.

“Still, she went too far.”

Was it due to overwhelming anger?

Horo, who rarely allowed her emotions to surface, seemed to have internalized intense feelings while being around Sukui, who himself avoided emotional displays. She had likely carried this burden as if compensating for Sukui’s restraint.

Sukui understood this was done out of care for him.

However, he also recognized that this tendency wasn’t a good sign—for Horo or for what was to come.

As Sukui approached the crater, he leaped lightly and slid to the bottom with practiced ease.

“Horo-san.”

Horo turned around, as though only now realizing Sukui was there. Nearby lay the lifeless body of Priest Mistul, his neck severed.

Though her expression was a mix of exhaustion and lingering anger, the moment her eyes met Sukui’s, her face bloomed into a radiant smile, like a flower in full bloom.

“You’re early, young master! I’ve already saved us the trouble by taking care of the villain who destroyed the village!” she said cheerfully.

Horo explained herself in a way that seemed meant to reassure Sukui.

Her body, battered and bloodied, didn’t seem to bother her. Her face glowed with unrestrained happiness.

In this moment, despite the chaos around her, Horo felt nothing but pure joy at being reunited with Sukui.

“I see. As expected of Horo-san. Your efficiency never ceases to amaze me,” Sukui said, stroking her head gently.

“Such devotion to the faith of death,” he murmured as his hand moved through her hair.

Sukui refrained from pointing out the abnormality of her actions.

Horo closed her eyes, basking in the praise and the gentle caress of Sukui’s hand. Her expression resembled that of an innocent, adorable girl.

“By the way,” Sukui began softly.

Why had she gone to such extremes?

As Sukui voiced the question, Horo opened her satisfied eyes, a thoughtful glimmer in her gaze.

She hesitated momentarily, unsure whether to disclose the priest’s motives. However, she reasoned that Sukui had already deduced much of it on his own.

Although she preferred not to trouble him further, Horo knew that silence wouldn’t stop Sukui from contemplating the matter.

“It was… about becoming a god.”

Becoming a god.

Even Sukui, who had formed a rough idea of Mistul’s motivations, tilted his head slightly at the unexpected revelation.

Horo explained that Priest Mistul had sought godhood and determined that granting death through divine prophecy was the means to achieve it.

She added that this was why he had been killing indiscriminately.

It wasn’t as though Mistul had viewed Sukui as a direct rival.

But Horo understood that if she explained further, Sukui might come to believe that he was the catalyst for the village’s destruction.

And even if she left it unsaid, Sukui would still realize it on his own.

“I see. For those who revere death, the connection between death and divinity is indeed intriguing,” Sukui said.

“But there are more pressing matters to address,” he added, his gaze shifting.

Before them stood a massive mirror.

“Ah, that’s it. A magical tool used to deliver divine prophecies,” Horo explained.

Despite the chaotic battle that had unfolded, the mirror remained unscathed. It seemed to have been blown away by the initial explosion of Horo’s flames, but there it stood among the rubble in the crater, untouched.

“It’s a magical tool, after all. Like my knife, it’s likely made to be indestructible,” Horo noted.

Sukui took Horo by the hand and slowly approached the mirror.

It was enormous, standing at least three heads taller than Sukui, who was already quite tall.

Even without its status as a magical tool, it was undoubtedly a precious and costly artifact.

Horo didn’t question Sukui’s interest in the mirror.

Even setting aside its role as the root cause of the current events, a tool capable of delivering divine prophecies and the voice of a god would naturally attract anyone’s attention.

At the same time, Horo couldn’t help but feel curious.

What could Sukui possibly want from the mirror?

Did he have a question for the divine? Horo pondered what it might be.

“So, this is the mirror that can deliver divine prophecies?” Sukui asked the mirror itself.

At first, the mirror reflected nothing. While it had previously shown its surroundings, it now appeared like a dark, featureless board, reflecting only an empty black void.

Yes.

Words appeared on its surface.

Horo blinked in surprise, staring at the mirror.

Sukui, however, seemed to have anticipated this. His expression remained calm, as if this was only the beginning.

“How can one defeat monsters?”

The mirror responded:

Monsters, like animals, vary greatly. There is no singular method to defeat them. However, they can be killed with human weapons and magic.

“How can one eradicate all monsters?” 

Monsters are created by the Demon King. If you eliminate the Demon King in his castle, the monsters will disappear.

“How does one defeat the Demon King?” 

It requires the chosen hero of the holy sword and the god-appointed magician working together.

“Is it impossible to defeat the Demon King without a hero?” 

The Demon King is immensely powerful. Only a hero’s strength can prevail against him.

“And lastly… what did I have for dinner yesterday?” 

Horo stared at him, perplexed.

Sukui had been repeating general, straightforward questions about the Demon King, which made it seem like he was gradually building interest in the subject. But then, out of nowhere, he asked a question so peculiar that it was impossible to comprehend.

Yet Sukui gazed at the mirror with utmost seriousness, as if this strange question was, in fact, his primary objective all along.

“Tell me how to learn magic,” Sukui asked.

You must continue to expose yourself to the essence of magic.

“Why was this method chosen for learning magic?” 

The mirror didn’t respond.

“Explain why the method of learning magic involves exposure to its essence,” Sukui repeated.

Because for someone who cannot handle fire, using fire magic would be too dangerous.

“Did God grant magic to humanity?”

Yes.

“Then wouldn’t those who lack access to water need water magic the most?”

The mirror remained silent.

“Why were humans created?” he asked next.

Again, there was no response.

“Teach me how to create proper fertilizer,” Sukui tried, though the mirror stayed silent.

He returned to the same question, repeating it:

“Explain why the method of learning magic involves exposure to its essence.”

Because for someone who cannot handle fire, using fire magic would be too dangerous.

Again, he repeated:

“Explain why the method of learning magic involves exposure to its essence.”

Because for someone who cannot handle fire, using fire magic would be too dangerous.

He continued, over and over:

“Explain why the method of learning magic involves exposure to its essence.”

Because for someone who cannot handle fire, using fire magic would be too dangerous.

Sukui repeated the question multiple times and received the same response every time.

Finally, he understood—his suspicion had been correct.

“Tell me how to become a god.” 

The mirror didn’t answer.

A moment later, Horo noticed something strange about the mirror’s lack of response.

The premise was wrong.

Priest Mistul had supposedly received a divine prophecy on how to become a god and started granting death to others based on that prophecy.

“That’s enough,” Sukui declared, turning to Horo.

“Listen carefully, Horo-san.”

“This magical tool is a device for automated responses. But that’s not all.”

As Sukui began explaining, Horo’s expression slowly shifted to one of shock.

Before Sukui could fully articulate his thoughts, Horo disappeared from his view.

And then, everything went dark.

“You’re an angel, aren’t you?” 

He had expected this.

This was the third time Sukui had been transported to this otherworld—a place he had visited prior to his current life.

As if fulfilling a promise that they would meet again soon, Sukui found himself in this world once more.

“Yes,” replied a woman who appeared before Sukui.

The woman had wings on her back and nodded gently.

“I am a servant created by the gods, a mere attendant. I am not a god.”

She spoke as though this was obvious, adding quietly, “I’m the only one left now.”

“You already knew this, didn’t you?”

“The gods are dead,” Sukui stated simply, arriving at the conclusion of this desolate world.

This world—a place once overseen by divine beings—was now nothing more than an empty, ruined shell.

“Yes.”

Once, this world had been a realm where gods resided. But now, the gods had perished, leaving nothing behind.

“I was told that the concept of death doesn’t apply to gods.”

The angel lowered her gaze.

She seemed sorrowful, but beneath that sorrow lay unmistakable anger, burning deep within her eyes.

“I’ll explain everything from the beginning.”

She began to recount the history of the gods’ existence.

The gods embodied the various fundamental concepts of existence.

There was the God of Fire, the God of Water, the God of Earth, and so on.

Each god ruled over a particular concept, constructing the world as they saw fit, creating an ideal paradise.

For the gods, achieving perfection was a trivial matter. Creating utopias required no effort.

Over an eternity, they shaped various histories.

But it wasn’t as if anything bad had ever happened. In their paradise, there was no conflict. Whatever one desired could be had in abundance. Every wish was fulfilled.

During this time, servants known as angels were born, and the human realm was created.

“So, it was one of the gods’ amusements?”

“That’s correct.”

The gods were fundamentally benevolent. The angel spoke of her deep reverence for them.

The human realm wasn’t created on a whim. All the gods collaborated and pooled their powers to craft it. While it couldn’t compare to their paradise, the gods cherished the humans who lived earnestly in that world.

They even proposed ways for humans to utilize divine powers.

To those they favored, they granted even greater power.

This power became known as magic.

“Now, magic is fully automated.”

The angel nodded.

Sukui had long felt that magic, despite being a gift from the gods, seemed to lack any sense of selection or discrimination.

Anyone, whether good or evil, could easily acquire magic as long as they met the requirements. Sukui found this inconsistent with the idea of magic as a divine gift.

“Originally, magic wasn’t granted on an individual basis. That didn’t change even when the gods were still present,” the angel explained.

Each god possessed one unique and special form of magic. Humans would later call these the S-rank magics—extraordinary powers granted only to the individuals chosen by the gods.

Now, these unique magics had become exceedingly rare.

“Back then, such powers were rarely bestowed.”

“Enough about magic,” Sukui interjected, steering the conversation back to the main topic.

“Why did the gods, who lived peacefully in their paradise while cherishing humans, end up dying?”

The angel’s beautiful face contorted with rage as she began to speak of the one being responsible.

A single entity. A single god.

It was one of their own who caused their demise.