The Fog

After witnessing Veronica in action firsthand, especially her final transformation, when her divinity seemed ready to spill out of her, Horn found it hard to bravely say the word "no" to her.

He obediently followed Veronica along an open-air corridor, where he occasionally spotted seagulls spreading their wings and soaring overhead. The cool breeze brushed pleasantly against his face, making the walk feel like a comfortable evening stroll in early summer.

But wasn't winter almost here?

"How do you feel?"

A gust of salt-laden sea wind swept past. Over its howl, Veronica, walking ahead and leading the way, abruptly asked him a question.

"What do you mean?"

The question came out of nowhere, and Horn blinked in confusion before asking her back.

"How does it feel to become a transcendent? More precisely, how does it feel to become an Apprentice?"

"Do you feel any strange impulses affecting your thoughts? Restlessness, unease, maybe an itch starting to spread over your skin? Or perhaps a thirst for knowledge? An appetite? Do you crave conflict, or do you crave Silence?"

"I feel... fine, I guess? If anything, I feel too calm."

Horn tried clenching his fist, but he didn't feel any of the strange sensations Veronica had described. Instead, he felt remarkably calm, as if all his impulses had been burned away with the flames. There was even an empty feeling inside him.

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"That's good. At least you're not showing any signs of losing control. For a rare self-awakened one, you're actually doing almost too well."

Veronica's pace never changed, but she always walked just a little faster than Horn, leaving him no time to look around. As they walked, he managed to squeeze in a question.

"Self-awakening?"

"Yes. You were able to cast off the powerful influences of [Mind] and [Grail] in [Storm Burnt Offering], and achieve the First Seal through Ember. There's no doubt that this is a sign of self-awakening. And the black fire that purged the corruption from you at the end—that must be your awakened talent, right? A true prodigy."

"Oh, right. Exactly. That's how it is."

Horn had still been wondering how to explain what was unusual about him. He paused for a moment, then nodded repeatedly. He couldn't agree more.

Whether or not she believed him, Horn did. He'd been handed a rare chance to explain himself, so he had to establish that [Flame of Destiny] was his talent.

I, Horn, have made it this far through my own talent and hard work. [Flame of Destiny], level up!

Veronica seemed unsurprised by his answer—or perhaps she'd already expected it. Without slowing, she led Horn toward the faintly visible land in the distance. Monks in light-purple robes walked along the road, too, but whenever they saw Veronica, they stood respectfully to either side and murmured their prayers.

As if she were used to scenes like this, the blonde girl rubbed her forehead and let the monks practice their faith. Then she explained to Horn, who was curiously eyeing the hawthorn-leaf decorations on their chests:

"The monks here originally split off from the ancient [Sisterhood of Knots], inheriting some of their traditions. They still grow yew and hawthorn trees on this isolated little island, and keep the tradition of making offerings to the [Double-Horned Battle Axe] at the end of the year."

"Of course, their original rituals can't grant much power these days. They can no longer be called [Formless Secret Arts]—at best, they're remnants of power. That's why they aren't strong enough to attract an investigation from the Prevention and Suppression Bureau, but can still keep them away from prying eyes so they can carry on with their peaceful lives."

"But they all seem to know you."

Even the old woman, tottering along in a deep-purple robe unlike the other monks' and supported by someone else, bowed to Veronica and prayed devoutly. Horn couldn't hold back. He shifted slightly away from the blonde girl, who was walking ahead with an embarrassed look on her face, to avoid being worshipped along with her.

"Ahem." Veronica cleared her throat and quickened her pace, heading for the monastery gate, whose outline had now come into view, as if trying to escape. "That's the downside of faith. I only made a few improvements to their isolation ritual when I passed through, but now they think I'm a saint performing miracles on earth. There's nothing I can do about it. It's not a bad thing, anyway. Better they worship me than go around worshipping random things."

After a moment, she added, "But I'm still listed as a consultant for the Prevention and Suppression Bureau, so it's best not to talk about this too much. It wouldn't look good."

"Just like I haven't reported your transformation into a giant of flame."

"Oooh..."

Horn drawled out his reply and nodded repeatedly, giving her a look that said, "I get it."

If you know, you know.jpg

Still, the little exchange eased the awkward distance between him and Veronica. It even gave them a sense of being co-conspirators. Horn rubbed his hands together sheepishly and seized the chance to ask the question he most wanted answered.

"Um, um, is the [Blood Cup Cult] completely wiped out? Are there any remnants we haven't dealt with? An evil organization like that must have a hefty bounty, right?"

Veronica was about to push open the monastery gate, decorated with a pair of antlers, when her wrist suddenly stopped. She turned around with a complicated expression and looked at Horn, who had an innocent, harmless expression—and even seemed eager. It was as if they hadn't been discussing the removal of an ancient secret society, but an easy chore like weeding the backyard.

For a moment, she was silent.

"Hey, hey, everyone has a responsibility to fight evil cults. If there's no bounty, I'm fine doing it as volunteer work!"

Taking Veronica's silence as a refusal, Horn reluctantly put on a righteous air, afraid to miss out on such a great source of experience.

Using and upgrading [Flame of Destiny] required a great deal of spirituality. Of everything Horn had encountered so far, [Grail] was the most plentiful and the easiest to burn. As long as he left them alive and didn't burn them to death, the spirituality would keep flowing in. They were practically perfect fuel.

"No, there is a bounty, and it's quite generous. But the [Blood Cup Cult] really has been wiped out. Saliba, who died in Birmingham, was its last high priest. Whether there are any surviving cultists isn't a major concern for the Prevention and Suppression Bureau."

"Dealing with secret cultists, whether foolish, ambitious, or both foolish and ambitious, is just an unpleasant emergency. The real threat the Prevention and Suppression Bureau needs to fight is this."

The old-fashioned monastery gate silently slid open to either side, divided by the antlers at its center. Beyond it lay a dense gray fog. Even for a damp seaside, the fog was unusually thick. Clumps of dark-gray mist huddled close to the ground, rolling through the slightly thinner light-gray fog. Their many-jointed limbs resembled spiders, extending from their main bodies and twitching faintly like those of real living creatures.

"Caw!"

A seagull that had flown from the direction of the monastery lost its way in the dense fog. It beat its wings helplessly, squawking in alarm as it slowly neared the ground.

No, not neared.

It was falling.

Flames silently kindled at the bottom of Horn's eyes. Under the spiritual vision enhanced by [Flame of Destiny], the fog blocking his view cleared, thinning enough for him to barely make out what was inside.

And then Horn saw it.