Kunkan's Gift
Crash—!
With a loud clatter, a table overturned. A man had jumped to his feet in a panic and knocked it over. It was Tapio—the same man who had guided Ulrich's group to the hut, his wariness evident at the time.
But now, Tapio trembled uncontrollably. Gone was any trace of caution—his face was filled with shock, confusion, and fear. The man and woman beside him were the same, as were the dozen or so figures behind them.
Because their secret had been exposed. A truth that should never have been revealed had come to light—and they could already see the future that awaited them.
"R-run—"
Someone began to speak.
"Where would you even go if you left this place?"
But Ulrich cut them off.
Roberta watched all of this through the gap in the window. The candlelight dimly illuminated the interior of the house as she observed from outside, her right hand resting on the sword at her waist.
"Priest," Fritz whispered beside her, as if asking whether they should go inside as well. She thought for a moment, then shook her head.
Tapio and the others had no hostility. They had merely stepped back in shock. They had no weapons—and even if they did, it would be meaningless. Who could possibly threaten Ulrich, the man whom even the monsters of the Frozen Peninsula could not overcome?
Perhaps… I might see a different side of him.
Moreover, Ulrich had never resolved a situation like this alone, apart from her. How would he handle things without her present? She was curious. Perhaps something would emerge—something he had neither shown nor told her before.
Roberta studied Ulrich's expression. It was calm. He merely cast his gaze over each of the three humans and the dozen or so strange beings before him. There was no interest, no surprise, no disgust—no emotion at all in that gaze.
After a long standoff, Tapio spoke first.
"…What do you intend to do with us?"
"That depends on what you choose to do."
Ulrich dragged over a fallen chair and sat down. Leaning back against it, he clasped his hands together. Seeing his relaxed demeanor, Tapio seemed to ease slightly and let out a long breath.
"I know what you're worried about. You're afraid I'll call you monsters and punish you here—or that I'll leave this place and report you to the diocese, aren't you?"
Tapio slowly nodded.
"You are—"
"Armin."
He gave his name briefly.
"Lord… Armin."
Tapio hesitated, then continued with a respectful tone.
"Will you… dispose of me and these children?"
"Why should I?"
There was no reply. His expression showed he was at a loss for words.
"Because they are monsters? Is that what you want to ask?"
"…I assumed you would naturally think so."
"That is not natural to me."
Ulrich shook his head.
"It's Kunkan, isn't it? The one who made you like this."
The group gasped in shock.
"N-no… that's not it. We were affected by the swamp—"
"Do not lie."
Cutting off the excuse, Ulrich continued.
"There is a flow. You may not feel it, but I do."
He looked directly at Tapio, who seemed on the verge of losing his breath.
"On the day the heavens exerted their power upon the world, Kunkan was there as well. That is why his influence still remains, even after he has left. Like the others, it lingers in the form of mana."
Kunkan—though an evil god—had been one of the main figures of creation.
He was the twin brother of Dieus, the king of heaven, yet the creator who became the lord of hell.
When the gods of heaven debated how to protect the pitiful lives below, he was the one who opposed them.
He rejected the will of heaven and sought rebellion alongside Takna and Galpa. The three tried to enforce their will, but were defeated and cast out into the world the scriptures called hell.
From that point on, the three were called evil gods by the creations of heaven.
"The heavenly gods each have their own distinct flow. I can distinguish them. The flow I sense from you—it belongs to him."
"..."
"He was a being deeply interested in humans. Because Hestio is human. Just as Ganymea showed mercy to the race of her adopted child, he too, in his own way, showed mercy to the humans he regarded as closer than even his own brother."
"Though that mercy was according to his own standards," Ulrich muttered to himself.
The house was silent, and outside, even the sound of insects had ceased. Roberta heard his words clearly.
Brother?
The idea that an evil god regarded Hestio as a brother brought forth a forbidden scripture buried deep within her memory. What Ulrich said resembled the contents of that text.
Its name was Khnolser.
It recorded the moment when the heavenly gods departed for heaven.
When Dieus tried to take Hestio with him, Kunkan appeared and attempted to persuade him. The story ended with Hestio rejecting Kunkan's temptation and choosing to remain on earth, waiting for the return of heaven.
But its contents were highly unorthodox. An evil god, cast into hell, had briefly returned to heaven—and the relationship between Hestio and that god was depicted as intimate.
It was only natural that the Pantheon had declared Khnolser heretical and burned it. Roberta had seen it only once during her training at the Congregation for Doctrine.
Her memory brought those words back:
"I regard you as closer than Dieus, who was born with me. My brothers and sisters love you, but they do not understand your will. If you go with them, can you truly be happy?"
Fritz glanced at Roberta.
Her expression had hardened.
"That is why Kunkan's power—or rather, his mana—is generous toward humans. Even those without talent can draw it easily if they call upon the name of Hestio."
At the word call, Tapio's face turned pale.
"The reason you have taken on your current forms lies there. In this age, where the seat of heaven stands empty, divine power does not come of its own accord. Someone among you called it—and it was drawn here. Kunkan answered your call."
"N-no! That's not true! These children are not followers of an evil god!"
Tapio shouted desperately. He had no choice. There was nothing more dreadful than being seen as a follower of Kunkan.
The Pantheon was wary of all evil gods, but Kunkan was different. Whenever his servants appeared, they always left behind immense consequences.
Who brought an end to the age of the fairies? It was Kunkan's servants. And who brought an end to the first age of humanity? That too was the work of Kunkan's servants.
For that reason, the Pantheon showed no mercy to anything even slightly connected to Kunkan. It would have been better to be excommunicated.
"Indeed. I know. There is no way you would have called upon him willingly."
Ulrich stepped toward the group.
With each step he took, they stepped back. But they were inside a room with only one door. Since Ulrich stood blocking it, they could not leave unless they passed him.
"Even if one were to call him, what would they gain? Kunkan seeks chaos. He is one who rejected the order of heaven and left. Few would desire the power left behind by such a being."
The group, bearing the mana of the evil god Kunkan, was pressed against the wall with nowhere left to retreat. Ulrich stopped before one of them and knelt down on one knee. Even so, he had to look down—it was a small creature… no, a child.
The child had almost no human features. Its lower body was that of a goat, its face protruded like a cat's muzzle, and antlers grew above its ears.
"Look. This is the gift of the god of chaos, Kunkan. You have come to harbor chaos without intending to, and you have no power to control it. Change was inevitable."
Ulrich gently stroked the trembling child's head, smiling softly as if to tell it not to be afraid.
"And what called forth that chaos… was a rite, was it not?"
He added, a false rite.
It was a rite performed by one who had not received priestly ordination.
"Because one who could not serve as a bridge became the bridge between heaven and humanity, that bridge allowed something that should never have crossed to come through. Not Dieus, not Ganymea, not Keme—but the power of Kunkan."
As if asking whether his words were wrong, Ulrich looked at Tapio.
Tapio let out a ragged breath. He was so shocked, so terrified, that his heart pounded and his face flushed red. He looked at the man before him—Ulrich, a young man whose name he had not known. Their eyes met as Ulrich knelt before the child of his friend.
When he had guided the three of them to the hut that afternoon, Tapio had paid no attention to Ulrich. Even if he wanted to, he could not. A priest of the goddess Ganymea had been at Ulrich's side.
This village had a secret—and that secret could never be revealed to a priest. Nor to anyone else, but with others, at least there was a chance to persuade them. Not with a priest.
The villagers were beings that could not truly be called human. The reason for their forms would never be accepted by the Pantheon. That was why it had to be hidden.
"There were many like you. Even knowing that false rites were futile, I have seen many cling to them because they had no other choice—and regret it afterward."
And yet, the truth had been exposed.
The young man he had assumed to be some noble's son, leisurely traveling with a priestess—he had uncovered the village's secret. He had even uncovered truths the village itself did not know.
It's over. It's all over.
No… perhaps it wasn't over yet.
Ulrich had proven nothing. He had only made claims. They could insist it was the swamp's influence, not an evil god. They could deny ever performing a false rite.
They had to act decisively, even ruthlessly. If Ulrich met the priest? If the priest left the village? It would be the end. The Pantheon would dispose of them—without a shred of mercy.
"…It is true."
But Tapio confessed.
"I performed the rite for them."
His head dropped weakly. It was to avoid Ulrich's gaze. The moment their eyes met, he could no longer resist. There was no expression on Ulrich's face. His tone was calm. And yet, Tapio felt an unbearable pressure.
He took out a palm-sized circular seal from his robe and showed it to Ulrich. The symbol of Dieus, the king of heaven, was engraved upon it. Ulrich received it and nodded.
"So you were an apprentice priest. You never received full ordination?"
"Yes… there was no opportunity to undergo the ordination ceremony."
Tapio explained—it had been during the civil war.
"As the war dragged on, even priests of the Holy Church were no longer guaranteed safety. It was a time when apostates turned into bandits and raided temples."
The temple Tapio had belonged to had also been plundered during that time. Even in a world where the existence of the gods was certain, greed made people reckless. While the head priest was being murdered, Tapio barely escaped with his life.
He had never imagined the civil war would last thirty-two years. Believing he only needed to hide for a short while, he sought a safe place within the kingdom rather than leaving Osnover altogether.
That place was this village beyond the swamp.
"This place, always shrouded in fog, had long been surrounded by strange rumors. Thanks to that, there was little travel, and throughout the civil war, it was largely ignored."
But that was not entirely a good thing.
Because it was forgotten, it avoided destruction—but because it was forgotten, it received no help.
"The problem is… even the diocese paid no attention to us. They said it was because of the civil war and the rampaging apostates, and avoided taking risks. Even when I went to them and begged, they only delayed and delayed."
One year, two years… the years passed without a priest ever coming.
Eventually, it became six years.
"Think about it. Six years without performing a single rite."
It was unthinkable—and it should never have been allowed to happen. If there was no priest, who could serve as the bridge between heaven and humanity?
"Those nearing death could not confess their sins and be cleansed. Newborn children could not have their names recorded in heaven. And this situation continued for six years."
The Holy Church taught that heaven and hell existed.
Heaven was where the good gods had gone, and hell was where the evil gods had been cast. According to the Church's doctrine, a person's faith and good deeds in life determined their fate in the afterlife.
"At least those who die without confession can still receive rites for their souls afterward. Isn't that what the Pantheon teaches?"
"That is what they teach," Ulrich murmured.
"But what about the children? You know how different the growth of a child is depending on whether they receive the infant rite or not. And here—we have that demonic realm right beside us."
Tapio pointed toward the swamp. Before the civil war, it had merely been a pit that occasionally produced fog. But after repeated battles, as corpses piled up and mana condensed, it began to affect its surroundings.
The village had suffered from several outbreaks of strange illnesses. The adults, having received rites, only experienced stomach issues or fevers. After enduring one outbreak, they developed immunity, and it was no longer a major problem.
But the infants were different. Those who had not received the infant rite perished.
"During those six years—of all the children born—not a single one lived to see the seventh year without a priest! All because of something that barely even qualifies as an epidemic!"
Tapio raised his voice, as if venting his rage.
"So you performed the infant rite. Even knowing it shouldn't be done?"
"…Yes. I did. What else was I supposed to do? Should I have simply accepted those lives fading away meaninglessly?"
The civil war showed no end. There was no promise of a priest's arrival. Without the infant rite, the children could not survive. Tapio thought—if death was inevitable anyway, why not perform the rite?
"The people here could not understand the idea of a 'priest who has not received ordination.' They could not accept why someone wearing priestly robes could not inscribe names into heaven's registry."
They begged him to perform the infant rite.
He refused for six years—but in the seventh year, he gave in.
And Kunkan answered their call.
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