HSDOE 76

Chapter 76

 The Fifth Power

“But we must keep at least a piece. Otherwise, how are we supposed to figure out its identity?”

From Riyan’s perspective, it was the obvious thing to say.

Some unknown life-form targeting the Empress—its identity absolutely had to be uncovered in preparation for whatever might come next.

But the problem was the nature of the purple energy.

Riyan had thought it moved with its target, since he could only apply one power at a time.

But it wasn’t that simple.

“…Huh?”

Just before it dissipated into black smoke, Riyan had triumphantly scooped up its severed remains—only to have his expression shift in an instant.

His hand that had touched the purple smoke was turning bluish, stiffening like stone.

“Uh—”

Thud.

He dropped what he had been holding.

Tion calmly pulled on a pair of gloves and picked it up instead. His face was grim. Not just because of what had happened to Riyan’s hand.

“Sir Sigres.”

As Rasillia rushed toward Riyan in alarm, Esselion stopped her.

“It’s still dangerous, Lady Rasillia.”

She turned to him.

“What in the world is this, Your Highness? A force that infects someone just by touching them—where does such a thing come from?”

Riyan, regaining his senses, also spoke up.

“You said it was one at a time, didn’t you? But an infection? What—you’re saying he can mix something like that into a sword? No, even having something beyond sword aura is strange enough, but an infectious plague? That’s just… far too absurd.”

Esselion looked away uncomfortably. Tion only bowed his head in silence.

“Your Highness.”

“Yes… Lady Rasillia.”

At her call, he couldn’t ignore her, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Please understand—I don’t ask this to reproach or condemn you. My only wish is to ensure Sir Sigres’s hand suffers no lasting harm. If this is a disease, then is there a cure?”

“……”

Esselion and Tion exchanged glances. Seeing Esselion’s expression, Tion sighed softly, as though resigning himself.

“To speak plainly, there is no cure. Because this isn’t a disease.”

“Then what is it?”

“Not a disease… but a curse.”

“A curse…?”

Esselion nodded heavily.

“Yes. The divine power granted to me—among them, the power to curse that which defies the will of the gods.”

* * *

Divine powers were divided into five categories.

Prophecy, Healing, Growth, Purification—and Curse.

Among humans, a rare few were born with divine power. The most common gifts were Healing and Growth. Prophets were so rare that sometimes not even one appeared in an entire generation.

And then there was Curse—utterly different from the rest.

Even if one invoked the gods’ name, a human who cursed another was not easily accepted.

Those born with the power of Curse were immediately taken to the temple the moment their powers awakened. There, priests with Healing or Purification attempted to erase their abilities.

Debate raged within the priesthood.

If the gods had granted such power, why would it harm humans? No one could provide a clear answer. Some argued it should not even be recognized as divine, while others claimed it represented the evil the gods had cast out into the mortal realm.

Thus, Prince Esselion’s power was kept a secret. He too was subjected to long, agonizing rites of purification.

But no priest with sufficient Purification strength could fully erase the curse power he had been given.

Unable to rid himself of it, Esselion had to learn to control it instead.

His method was the sword. Fortunately, he had talent with the blade, and a cursed blade disguised as “sword aura” was not too hard to pass off as a lie.

Only a few priests knew the truth, along with the royal family’s chief knight who had trained him, and two of Esselion’s personal guards.

Those two guards were themselves born with curse powers that could not be purified.

“I didn’t believe it was sword aura anyway.”

Riyan muttered lightly, gazing at his hardened hand.

“If it were aura, it wouldn’t have such restrictions. And besides, there hasn’t been a whisper of a Sword Master appearing anywhere on the continent.”

His hand was cursed, yet his voice sounded almost exhilarated.

“Shouldn’t you be worrying about your hand instead?” Rasillia said.

“This? Well, it doesn’t seem to be spreading. And it’s only my left hand anyway.”

He shrugged.

“Besides, since it’s divine power, can’t I just find a priest with Healing or Purification?”

“But you don’t look like you have any intention of going to the temple.”

“Ah, not now. Who knows when those things might come again?”

But for the moment, they did not return.

The only trace left of them was the half-destroyed fragment Riyan had risked a curse to salvage.

One of Esselion’s knights had been the first to find a clue about them. More precisely, not a trace, but a connection.

That knight had spotted a suspicious stranger loitering near the duke’s estate. The moment they dealt with him, the creatures had suddenly appeared.

That was why Esselion’s men were now combing through the estate again.

There was no proof only one summoner existed. They had to search every inch until they were certain no more danger lurked here.

Some had suggested moving Rasillia to the imperial palace, but the road there could be attacked at any moment. It was safer to wait for reinforcements.

The royal guard was already rushing toward the palace to summon aid.

“But you’ve stepped out of the search yourself. Doesn’t that mean you really ought to be worried?”

“Well… yes, maybe I should. But right now, my mind is more occupied with other thoughts.”

Instead of falling silent, Riyan scratched the back of his head and tapped the shrouded remains with his cloak.

“This, for one.”

His ears twitched faintly.

To Rasillia, it seemed like they were alert, watching their surroundings.

And she wasn’t wrong.

Riyan had stayed behind at her side, withdrawing from the search deliberately. He wanted to speak with her alone, out of Esselion’s hearing.

“To my eyes… it looks somewhat similar to His Majesty’s transformation. What do you think, Your Majesty?”

“You mean, a type of demon?”

“I know it’s not the same. Above all, demons use mana, don’t they? They’re far superior to humans—ah, I mean… in many ways. Not just physically, but in knowledge of this world and others too.”

But these creatures, though shaped unlike anything on the continent, didn’t seem intelligent.

“They may come from the same place, but are either a different kind, or demons still in need of growth.”

“Yes. That’s my thought as well. Especially since a demon once appeared in the capital itself.”

“And they are targeting me. Just like when I was hidden inside the Harrios Temple.”

“Yes. That cannot be denied.”

Riyan frowned.

“That’s why I’m uncertain. Should we stay put and wait for reinforcements? Or is that itself part of the demons’ plan to target Your Majesty?”

“Piii…?”

Pipi, who had been dozing on Rasillia’s lap like the dead, suddenly lifted his head.

Since breathing fire and turning into flame, he had remained in that fiery state. But after five minutes or so, he had grown drowsy, shut his eyes, and dozed off.

When his flaming body had slumped onto Rasillia’s lap, everyone panicked, but strangely enough, his fire hadn’t burned her.

As he slept, his flames slowly faded, returning him to his small original body.

“Pii. Pii.”

Blinking his sleepy eyes, Pipi chirped.

He told them not to worry—he was here. And that the strange things were already dead.

“Yes, I know. You did well.”

“Pii…”

His head drooped again, and he drifted back to sleep.

Watching Pipi, Riyan nodded.

“The Phoenix can sense danger approaching Your Majesty ahead of time. If he says it’s safe, then for now we can trust that.”

“Then you could go to the temple.”

Riyan shook his head quickly, as if she had said something absurd.

“Even if His Majesty himself brought the reinforcements, I will not leave Your Majesty’s side.”

“Why not? You know I’m in no danger now.”

“Because I refuse to feel like I’m running away.”

His answer was oddly stubborn.

“No one would think you were fleeing.”

“…If not for Prince Dellarta’s power, who knows what would’ve become of this place.”

He raised his left hand. He wanted to clench it, but couldn’t. The cursed hand was frozen stiff, incapable of strength.

“That frightens me. That I might be powerless, and something far worse could happen because of it.”

“You’ve done more than enough.”

“No, Your Majesty. Forgive me, but I have not.”

He bit down hard on his teeth.

“I knew I wasn’t enough. I should have been long ago. But I keep… I keep—”

He squeezed his eyes shut, his brow furrowing with pain.

This wasn’t just self-reproach about skill. If it were only that, he wouldn’t look so tormented.

Rasillia placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Sir Sigres.”

“…It’s fine, Your Majesty. I’ll be fine soon enough.”

And then—she saw it.

His inner thoughts, so different from the words on his lips.

—It’s not fine. Damn it all.

“……”

Surprised, Rasillia gazed at him quietly.

He was in pain, hiding it from everyone. She could pretend not to notice, but perhaps there was some way she could help.

—If something happens to Her Majesty… then she’ll fall too.

Then he thought of Rescal’s transformation.

Rescal, who had lost his companion and become a full demon, destroying everything in sight.