kscans

Chapter 1 - v1c0 - Final Chapter (1)

"Number Fifteen."

When asked for her name, that was the girl’s reply.

She couldn’t have been more than ten years old. She wore no skirt, only a tattered linen tunic that ended below her knees, and her feet were wrapped in scraps of cloth.

The wandering knight looked away from the girl, who believed the number used for roll call was her actual name, and surveyed the inside of the chapel. In front of the altar where a statue of the Holy Archangel Juno stood, orphans sat on pews, spinning thread, combing flax, or weaving baskets. Judging by their pale faces, ragged clothes, and listless expressions, the priest in charge was not a very good one.

Unlike the other children, this girl had separated from the group and was staring intently up at the knight. The April sunlight, filtered through sooty leaded glass, made her dirty, frayed black hair and ice-blue eyes stand out in the dim chapel.

A suspicious look crept into the knight’s wrinkled eyes. He stroked his short-cropped white beard and asked, "Do you find me so interesting?"

His attire was hardly impressive. A frayed woolen cap was pulled low over his eyes, his cotton tunic and haversack were caked in dust, and he had no horse. He wore no plate armor or helmet, and his uncrested mantle was worn so thin its hem was in tatters. Only the two swords, long and short, tucked into his sword belt, along with his intelligent gaze and refined speech, marked him as a knight.

The girl looked straight up at him.

"Mister, have we met somewhere before?"

The wandering knight looked down at her in silence for a moment, his mind turning over some thought. Then he invited her outside, where they sat on the stone steps before the church. He patted the spot beside him. The village square was nearly empty. Dappled sunlight slanted through the trees, speckling the chickens pecking at the grassy clearing.

"I’ve just decided to stay in this village for a while. I was hoping for someone to talk to, so let’s be friends. Would you like a biscuit?"

The girl did as she was told, sitting beside the knight and biting into the oat biscuit he offered. A patch of anemones growing in the grass swayed red in the gentle breeze.

The knight asked about her life. She told him she had been at the church for as long as she could remember and was always called "Number Fifteen." That summer, a merchant who knew the priest was scheduled to come and take her on a trip. When she’d asked the priest where she was going, he had beaten her with a switch, leaving her hands covered in overlapping welts.

Hmm, the wandering knight thought with a nod. The merchant arriving in summer was likely a slave trader from the Southdia Continent. The orphanages run by the Holy Juno Orthodox Church were a primary source for slavers. Every year, countless orphans were sold without their knowledge, sent across the sea to become toys for the nobles of the southern continent.

If she stays here until summer, this girl has no future.

Realizing this, the knight chatted with the girl for a while longer before taking his leave. He visited the village chief and arranged to stay until summer, helping with manual labor.

During the day, he toiled, felling trees in the forest, hauling lumber, and carving stakes to build a fence around the village. His payment was two meals a day and a bed in a straw hut. It was not easy work, but whenever he had a spare moment, the knight would visit the church on the edge of the village to see the girl called "Number Fifteen."

With each visit, the girl grew more attached to him, listening raptly to the stories he told.

They were tales of heroes who, since ancient times, had shaped the history of the Grapeland Sea.

There was the tyranny of the Demon Lord Lucifer, who had emerged from the Demon Lord’s Tower fifteen hundred years ago. There was Yamata, the hero of the Oyashima Tribe, who had ended the five-hundred-year dark age. When Yamata sacrificed himself to defeat Lucifer, his body shattered into eight sacred orbs, each bearing a character—Benevolence, Righteousness, Propriety, Wisdom, Loyalty, Trust, Filial Piety, and Brotherhood. The orbs scattered across the world, and those who obtained them—the Successors—gained power that transcended the laws of the world.

These heroes fought one another. The history of the Grapeland Sea was one of intrigue and war among the city-states. Armies of over a hundred thousand marched east and west, clashing on land, at sea, and in the sky. Great battles were waged for the pride and honor of heroes, their spectacular victories and tragic defeats immortalized in the songs of bards.

He spoke of cavalry charges where a thousand knights in glittering armor became a single spear, piercing enemy lines. He described Successors who wielded the power of the Holy Orbs, scattering entire armies single-handedly. He conjured images of flight soldiers with gliders strapped to their backs, leaping from air sailboats soaring through the Floating Sphere. He told of mechanical soldiers, powered by miasma engines, that could shatter castle gates and walls, sometimes even fighting on equal terms with a Holy Orb Successor. The knight recounted each scene in such detail it was as if he had witnessed it himself, weaving a magnificent and heroic tapestry of war with his words.

The girl’s heart thrilled with ever-growing excitement.

Every day, she eagerly awaited the wandering knight’s visit. As soon as her afternoon chores were done, she would dash outside the church, jumping for joy and waving both hands the moment he appeared.

About two weeks after they met.

As they sat on the stone steps as usual, the girl nibbling on a piece of black bread the knight had given her, she was struck by a thought.

"Hey. You haven’t told me the story about the Messiah."

At her question, the knight sitting beside her slowly turned to face her.

"I did. Near the beginning."

"Not the first Messiah. The second one."

"Ah," the knight replied, as if he had just realized. He looked up at the sky.

In truth, he had been waiting for her to ask about that person.

He let out a long sigh—fuuuu.

There were two Messiahs in the Grapeland Sea.

The first, Yamata, defeated the Demon Lord who had ruled the world for over five hundred years, about a thousand years ago.

The second defeated the Demon Lord who had returned to this world just under thirty years ago.

"The story of the second Messiah is a very long one."

"I don’t mind if it’s long! I want to hear it!" the girl pleaded, her eyes wide.

A strong spring wind rustled through the trees, making the girl’s black hair flutter and the leaves whisper with a great zaaa.

The wandering knight stroked his white beard, his thoughts drifting to days long past.

Days of fierce, heart-wrenching, cruel, yet beautiful moments, lived with a soul ablaze.

"...Very well. But first, let me ask you: what do you know about the second Messiah?"

The girl’s eyes darted about as she tried to recall what she had heard a few times during mass.

"Umm, he was the one who had all eight Holy Orbs by himself!"

"...That’s right. Benevolence, Righteousness, Propriety, Wisdom, Loyalty, Trust, Filial Piety, and Brotherhood—each of the eight orbs had its own Successor. But when a Successor dies, the orb leaves their body and is passed on to a new host. Since a single person can possess any number of orbs, a struggle to collect them naturally began. One by one, the Successors fell… until finally, all eight orbs were held by just two people."

As he spoke, the scents and feelings of that time resurfaced in his chest, a sweet ache blooming from somewhere within.

"To defeat the Demon Lord, a Messiah who possessed all eight orbs was needed. So the last two fought a duel. One died, and the survivor inherited all the orbs, becoming the Messiah."

"Yeah, I know! And then the Messiah beat the Demon Lord and was reborn as eight new Holy Orbs, right?"

The wandering knight patted the girl’s head and smiled faintly.

"...The end of my story is a little different from that one."

"Oh? How?"

"The Holy Archangel Juno appears and passes judgment."

"What, Lady Juno!? Is she real!?"

"She is. She’s a living god, after all."

The girl’s eyes sparkled even more. To think that the Holy Archangel Juno, whom she had only ever seen in religious paintings and wooden carvings, was real and that one could actually meet her.

"What’s Lady Juno like!?"

"...She’s a prankster. She gets so bored in the Angel’s Tower that she sometimes comes down to the city disguised as a citizen to play tricks."

"No way. Lady Juno is a god. She wouldn’t play tricks."

"...I don’t blame you for not believing it. Even as I tell you this, I can hardly believe it myself. Juno’s pranks are on a colossal scale, unfolding slowly over a great deal of time… and I myself am trembling right now."

The wandering knight held out his right hand in front of the girl.

His fingertips were quivering, trembling as if in both fear and reverence of her.

"I don’t get it at all!"

The girl’s ice-blue eyes glittered as she questioned him with a bright, cheerful smile.

The wandering knight offered her a gentle smile and, with a trembling hand, patted her head once more.

"...I’ll tell you the whole story. And when I’m finished, I’ll give you a new name."

"A name? Why?"

"Because it’s a better name than ‘Number Fifteen.’"

Another strong gust of wind blew, scattering petals and bending the forest. The wind swept past the two of them, tossing anemone petals into the blue sky. It was a warm, soft wind, as if blessing the beginning of the story.

Oh, mischievous Juno. Did you foresee this scene as well?

I apologize for ever doubting you. You have indeed worked a miracle…

With that silent call to an old friend, the wandering knight wiped his eyes with a finger and began the long tale of the second Messiah.