Then the Twilight Bell Rings - 3

Late at night. There was a knocking on Nophtok's apartment door.

If things went as scheduled, it was around when Giza the Wingsword would be coming to report the results of the operation to him.

"Yes, yes. I'm coming."

With a pigeon's gait, he casually walked out to his door and opened it. It was not Giza standing there on the other side.

"Oh?"

Looking at the blood-drenched man, enveloped in an even more lurid ominousness than usual, Nophtok spoke his name without any particular amount of surprise.

"Master Kuze the Passing Disaster."

"Bweh-heh-heh… Well, see, I was just nearby and dropped in. Do you mind?"

"I see. I do mind, in fact, but…"

Kuze was dragging the edge of his great shield. The wounds all over his body were deep, and he could no longer carry it on his arm. He had walked all the way there in such a condition.

"Looking at your current state, I don't think I can really afford to say that right now."

"I'm glad you're quick on the uptake… I don't need first aid or anything, and I won't ask you for any tea, so…"

With unsteady steps reminiscent of a departed spirit, Kuze stepped inside. In his wake, the floor was dirtied with splotches of dark-red blood, and Nophtok felt slightly disappointed.

"I see… So then, what is your business with me?"

"Ah yeah… Right. Let's get straight to the point. Sun's Conifer… You were the one who sent them to attack the almshouse, right?"

"Yes, that's right."

Kuze was an invincible assassin. From the very start, Nophtok had been prepared for any degree of retaliation from the man. If he had come to kill Nophtok in anger, then that would be the end of it anyway, and it was more productive to own up to it all.

"Hmm, given the state you're in now, it seems you killed quite a large number of them."

Were the children safe? Nophtok pondered.

The children of that almshouse, having lost their guardian just a few days ago, had been the easiest hostages to capture in order to threaten Kuze. There was no greater reason behind their selection than that. However, if possible, Nophtok wanted them to be safe.

"Didn't kill any of them."

A smile found its way to Kuze's blood-soaked face as he sat in his chair. He looked extremely pleased.

"I… I didn't kill anyone. Me. I went all out and brawled my way through it all. Can you believe it?"

"No. I really can't."

Kuze the Passing Disaster could not have possibly resolved a situation without killing a single person.

In the following days, the almshouse massacre was sure to be treated as a major incident. The Sun's Conifer survivors would serve as witnesses, and Kuze the Passing Disaster would be stripped of the right to appear in the Sixways Exhibition. Even if he had failed to take the hostages, he had dealt with Kuze's presence, for sure. It was the scenario that Nophtok had sketched out for the operation.

"You can't force me out of the competition. I'm advancing to the second round."

"Hmm. I'm sure you understand, but I cannot allow you to do that…" "…There's some fellas who do a real quick job out there. See, Yukiharu the

Twilight Diver… I hear he's already writing up an article. In the end… After I rushed in and got the kids out of that, thing is, Zigita Zogi handled everything else for me… I barely made it through on my end, really."

"Twilight… Article? What are you talking about?" Kuze continued, flashing a wide grin.

"An article on Sun's Conifer capturing and occupying the almshouse—and all the particulars around it… With photos of the scene printed next to it on the page… That'll get the information out there. With photos, it'll be certain and reliable evidence. It's called a newspaper article, apparently. I didn't know anything about it myself, though…"

Something was going on. That something was a presence backing Kuze, putting their schemes into action and using their influence far swifter and much

earlier than Nophtok, including cleaning up the aftermath of the incident. "You didn't kill anyone. Why was that?"

Nophtok repeated Kuze's previous words back to him. "Ah well, I wonder why myself."

Kuze looked at the ceiling, leaning back in his chair.

"Must've been the Wordmaker's divine protection, wouldn't you say?" "..."

"Did you know? It's always other people…who're the ones saving others." Nophtok had no means of verifying the authenticity of Kuze's words.

However—an information network was able to link everything back to Nophtok in such a short time. The name Zigita Zogi the Thousandth. Behind Kuze the Passing Disaster, there was a force threatening Aureatia, after all.

Though his entire operation may have failed, at that moment, Nophtok was able to finish things himself.

He took a deep break.

…So it comes to this. Oh well.

With this simple thought, Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell was able to choose his own death.

Kuze's sponsor was Nophtok. If his sponsor died, then he would lose his claim to fight in the Sixways Exhibition as a hero candidate.

Nophtok himself didn't possess the nerve to choose his own death, but even being the type of man he was, standing right in front of him was a means of certain and automatic suicide.

"Now then, Master Kuze. I will be killing you now."

The candidate murdering his sponsor—the most reliable reason for disqualification.

"What will you do then, Master Kuze?"

"…Nophtok." Kuze spoke with a gentle tone. "You yourself…were raised in the Order, too, weren't you? I knew for a long time what you were getting up to and all, but… Even still, I want to believe that there has to be some sort of salvation for you, right…? That maybe there was something that left you with no other choices."

"I… Well."

Had there been something like that? He got the feeling that, no, there hadn't been at all.

During Nophtok's childhood, the Order hadn't been in the same harsh situation it was now. Enjoying the favor and love of many people and perhaps in

an attempt to pay it all back, he had ascended to his current position. As if someone had wanted him, too.

If there was a hungry young girl in front of him, he just had to offer her help.

Never propelled by his own resentment or anger, he simply had to live out his mild days and indifferently carry out the role requested of him. Even without the teachings of the Wordmaker, he thought that this unsophisticated, innate goodness in others was plenty by itself.

"Hmmm, I… I think I'm all set myself. Whether you believe in some salvation for me…or not, either way."

"Even still, I think, how great it would be, if there was."

He may have been right. If this salvation that he spoke of was such a good thing, then perhaps Nophtok would have sought it.

However, Nophtok was soon going to attempt to kill Kuze, then die to his instant-death ability, and that would be the end of it.

"Hey, Nophtok… What do you think when you see this?" "..."

Nophtok could also read the Order's script. The script, by its very nature easily taught and widely studied by those involved in the Order, was capable of being disseminated to orphans, the poor, and other people in the lower class of society.

"This would be trade documentation. Yes… And one outlining technical medical treatment…and organ selling, at that."

"That's right. There were people using kids bought from the Order for that stuff. They were taking diseased organs that couldn't be regenerated with Life Arts and swapping them out with the children's fresh organs…"

"What an atrocity."

They were words from the heart. Nophtok didn't want children to meet such a grisly fate.

"There's stuff like this, too. Supplying materials for constructs. They were using minia as material to make revenants and skeletons. Using children from the Order. This, too. And this one over here, too. All of it."

Kuze produced document after document, stacking them one on top of the other.

The blood still dripping from his wounds stained Nophtok's study desk terribly.

"…Yes. Yes. It's truly heartrending. Within the Order's structure, it is impossible to prevent these sorts of crimes from happening… That is why there

needs to be a new system in place to save everyone. You understand, don't you, Master Kuze?"

"Yeah. Of course I do. So you'll agree with me, then." In the final document, there was a blank space.

"What in heaven's name?"

Still facing his study desk, Nophtok was at a loss for words.

"So all the stuff I've shown you just now, let's have us be the ones who did it all."

The paper was a jointly signed certificate that showed the Order was involved in slave trafficking.

Why did he have such a thing? Why was it necessary? "Wh-what is the meaning of—?"

"The Order's lining its own pockets. Using priests and innocent children for dirty business…they've distorted the tenets of the Wordmaker that are meant to teach people how to live decent lives and turned it into an organization that only brings people suffering. It's all…all because in the highest reaches of the Order, there are murderous scum, or scum only motivated by profit, doing what they please."

"…B-but that's not…"

The story that the people…had made the Order bear responsibility for the sorrow brought by the True Demon King. A negative reputation that Nophtok himself had let spread.

"Things are fine that way. We just have to make guys like us, the big shots in the Order, into the lowest scum in the world. All the people who've kept believing in the teachings…and the children, have done nothing wrong. It's not the Wordmaker's teachings that were at fault. All of it was entirely our fault."

"Our…fault?"

With trembling eyes, Nophtok looked over the list of signees. They were all signatures from the concerned individual themselves. Kuze the Passing Disaster. Maqure the Sky's Lake Surface. There were even signatures from the deceased like Rozelha the Contemplating.

Long before he died in that incident, they had gotten his signature on such a document. Still more. And more. And even more…

"Eep."

Nophtok was scared.

The Order had a large amount of organizational power. While it wasn't fighting power, it was still enough for something like this.

And all of them, every one, voluntary.

They were trying to bear the unjustified sins, pushed on to them by the people, entirely by themselves.

"Ah right, I never told you, did I? See, appearing in the Sixways Exhibition? From the very start, it was to do this. In the second-round fight, I'm going to assassinate the Queen. It's the scum controlling the Order's plan to overthrow royal authority. That'll cancel the Sixways Exhibition…then all the wicked leaders in the Order, who'd make use of an assassin like me? Well…"

Why were they doing such a thing? Such a terrible thing?

The Order, supposedly the weakest organization of all, without any military power of their own, was in fact…

"Everyone'll be executed."

…enacting the most dreadful scheme in the Sixways Exhibition.

"Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell. My sponsor and the supervisor for the Order… You're the last one. There had to be someone who turned a blind eye to what the Order's upper ranks were doing, right?"

"I—I can't possibly sign off on something like this."

Just how terrible a crime would they commit just to save the Order? And while falsely charging so many people for it, too.

"I… I've never once had a hand in slave trafficking. A-assassinating Her Majesty, it's inconceivable. I don't have the courage for that. I didn't…I didn't do anything of the sort. Anything at all!"

"You're right. You didn't do anything at all. That's our crime." A saboteur through negligence.

When it came to dishonorable slander, Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell had meekly taken it all in.

However, that was because said dishonor had been the truth of the matter. He couldn't bear having such a crime be exposed for all eternity.

Why did the signatures continue to list so many names? What were they thinking? Were they really insisting that it was faith that drove this many believers into insanity?

Where was the salvation supposed to be in something this horrible? "…See, look."

Before he could realize it, Kuze the Passing Disaster was lingering right next to Nophtok.

Like an angel. Like a god of death.

"Even you've got a heart that's terrified of sin. The heart that the Wordmaker

gave you? You got it in here, for sure. Bweh-heh-heh… Good for you, Nophtok, being able to get scared like this."

Kuze was right. Nophtok didn't even fear his own death. He didn't place any value in his own existence. That was how it was supposed to be. There was a pen on Nophtok's study desk. He just needed to use the pen to try right now to kill Kuze.

His fingers trembled. He couldn't do it. He was scared. "What's wrong? Go ahead and sign."

His spirit broken, Nophtok was unable to move under his own volition. Despite profoundly wanting to run away immediately.

From where he was—and from the very world around him. "Stop. Please. Stop this foolish plan. I beg you."

The Sixways Exhibition to Kuze the Passing Disaster was nothing more than a stepping stone leading them all to the gallows.

…And then. What was even more terrifying than that…

Even if all the names listed on the document were executed, Kuze alone would survive on.

There wasn't anyone who could execute a man capable of striking back against any murderous intentions against him.

He would shoulder all the crimes and continue on, alone. A living nightmare. "You just gotta write your name. Hey? Do you want me to teach you how,

Nophtok?"

They were supposed to have virtuous hearts. Both Kuze and Nophtok himself.

Nophtok had indeed helped the Order decline. Nevertheless, he didn't want a fate like this.

"Help. Save me."

Kuze's large hand made Nophtok grip the pen. A bloodstained hand of death.

"You learned the script properly in the Order? How to write it, I mean. Right, Nofelt?"

"G-guaaaaagh…Augh…"

His head was pinned down, too. Fear had broken his spirit.

A heart that neither feared death nor sin. That was what he had thought.

Up until the terror from minutes prior, that's what it should have been like for Nophtok, and yet…

Everything Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell had constructed was all beginning

to fall apart.

"Th-the state, this state the Order's in, i-it isn't only my fault." "Sign it. Write your name, just like you learned how."

Thanks to a wonderful miracle, we are no long in solitude. All creatures with a heart and soul are our family.

"Save me. Please."

"That's exactly right. Make sure to pray to the Wordmaker first. Now sign

it."

Be sure to talk things out. Since everyone was bestowed Word Arts by the

Wordmaker to communicate with one another.

"Help me! Kuze! Save me!" "Write."

Thou shall not hate. Thou shall not harm. Thou shall not kill. Just as thou would treat thy own family.

"Sign it, Nophtok."

"Kill the Hero for us."

Even since he took on this earnest plea, before the start of the Sixways Exhibition, Kuze had been resigned to the sin he would bear.

The sky was clear, and the gentle sunlight bathed the world below.

It was these sorts of moments, for instance, when the angel would look at Kuze from the corridor window frame like she had something she wanted to say.

Her boyish short white hair and wings softly fluttered in a current separated from the wind of the real world.

Kuze left the confessional. Together with Maqure the Sky's Lake Surface, they discussed the hero who was arranged to be born from the Sixways Exhibition—and the Order's final plan. Their plan to shoulder all the crimes and ensure the survival of the Wordmaker's faith.

Kuze thought that Nastique must have known everything about what they had said inside the confessional, too.

"…Father Maqure's another really important person to me."

The angel lightly floating behind Kuze's back listened attentively to his voice

with a curious look on her face.

At some point or another, Kuze had begun to think of her just like the children gathered in the church.

The sort of child who pays no attention to a boring conversation but waits for that moment to be engraved in their memories.

"That guy's like that even in front of regular followers, see? So the actual content of his sermons never gets across. He's always thinking about these sort of big-picture problems, you know, like about the world and society… His students have told him over and over, see, heh-heh… 'You should have become a philosopher or something.'"

When Kuze laughed, the angel would smile slightly, too.

"…Father Kuze!"

A voice brought Kuze to a halt.

It was one of the eldest orphans who had survived the tragedy that claimed Rozelha's life.

Even now, he'd recall the flickering memories of that day, when he killed Hyne the Swaying Indigolite.

The orphans and priest who just barely survived that incident were taken in by Maqure's almshouse.

"Whoa, whoa, none of that now. Can't call an old man like me Father—it's too rude to the other priest."

"But you were the one who saved us all, Father Kuze." "..."

Kuze smiled ambiguously. You're wrong. I'm weak. I can't protect anyone.

During that incident, many believers died tragically.

Kuze had nowhere near enough courage to learn what this survivor had seen during the incident, what she had endured.

"I… I—I ended up surviving. Even though so many of the other kids died.

Why were there some who died that day and some who didn't…?"

"Living on with those memories, that's just as painful. That's why really everyone's equal."

"But in that case…why are we the only ones who're forced to live with this pain?! What about all the other people in the world?! Do I… Do we have to suffer like this just because we're part of the Order?!"

Kuze tightly shut his eyes.

There were both children who died and those who got left behind.

There were those capable of living in the light and those who could only live in darkness.

Kuze, the only one under the divine protection of an angel—and everyone else, besides him.

As every living being in this world is equal, the Wordmaker bestowed them all the gift of language.

He laughed. He laughed facetiously.

Sorrow and salvation. Chosen ones. Destiny. He didn't hold any other answers.

"If it's not the sort of tragedy a person's strength can help save… then people can't save at all."

"Bweh-heh-heh… Sorry. This old fella doesn't have a clue. I'm not too smart, see…"

An angel that bestowed death. In this world, Nastique only bestowed her divine protection on Kuze—and no one else.

However, Kuze always hoped.

Listen. I'm begging you. You're an angel, right? Help. Please, Nastique—

He was always speaking into empty air.

She must be broken. Somewhere in his heart, he had realized it. An angel of salvation, surely broken, who only protected Kuze.

Help everyone else, not me.