[Who are you? How did you get in here?]
The world was a formless expanse of white mist. The ground beneath his feet was cracked and parched, as if from a terrible drought. A woman sat hunched on that barren earth. Her clothes were frayed and riddled with holes. She wore a hat woven from withered reeds, and her skin was brown, her figure plump. Her lips were large and thick.
’I see.’
Having experienced this once before, Simon knew who she was. The Essence of a Saintess. Or, to be more specific...
"You’re the ’Essence of Harvest’, aren’t you?"
She continued to eye him with suspicion. Then...
Her stomach rumbled loudly. Acting on pure instinct, she fumbled at the cracked ground, pulled out a withered sprout, and shoved it into her mouth.
She immediately spat it out with a cry of disgust and wailed in agony.
[It tastes awful!]
Simon blinked, completely bewildered.
[There’s nothing to eat here! Nothing here, nothing there!]
Everywhere she pointed, the white mist receded to reveal more barren land. Withered trees, dead crops, and the gaunt, scattered bones of animals were all that remained.
[To think I’d end up in a place like this! I’m ruined! Rukia! I miss you!]
She burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. Simon hesitated before asking, "Who’s Rukia?"
[The child I originally chose.]
Simon immediately thought of the Saintess of Harvest. Her real name must have been Rukia.
[When I was in her body, it was a world overflowing with wheat! There was no meat, sure, but I could make bread, and noodles! All sorts of things!] she exclaimed, her voice thick with injustice. [But then suddenly, perhaps the child died, because I was able to get out! To be honest, I was getting a little tired of flour anyway. Then I saw another appetizing person, so I attached myself to them. But that one, their storehouse looked magnificent, but there was nothing inside! They tricked me!]
Simon’s mind raced, trying to piece together the nonsensical story. It seemed to be a bizarre description of the essence moving from the Saintess of Harvest to Ever Kire.
[I was at least catching rats in the empty storehouse! But then, maybe they died too, because I was able to get out again! So I left, but it wasn’t the continent I knew! I was trapped in some strange world, wandering around, until I found a girl whose storehouse looked the most promising. So I went inside. But!]
Her crying reached a crescendo.
[It was a bust! A total bust! This time it was a necromancer! Aaaaaah! No matter how hungry I was! How could I enter a necromancer’s storehouse?! There isn’t even a single rat here, let alone grain! I’m finished!]
She began banging her forehead against a nearby animal bone with dull thuds. Then she looked up at Simon.
[So what are you?]
’A little late to be asking,’ Simon thought with a wry smile, and proceeded to explain. "My name is Simon Polentia. The girl you’ve entered is named Sasha. When I held her hand, I was able to see this place."
[Oh my god, you!] she gasped, jumping to her feet. [You have the ’Qualification’!]
Simon’s eyes gleamed. It was the same phrase the Essence of Purification had used when it entered Sasha’s body.
"You have the ’Qualification’! You may not know how incredible this is, but this is truly a miracle, Simon Polentia!"
Her curiosity finally piqued, the Essence of Harvest began to circle him briskly. It was dizzying, but Simon waited patiently.
[But it’s strange. Why are you dressed like a boy?]
"...I’m not ’dressed like’ a boy. I am a boy."
[Whaaat?] she yelped, leaping backward. [Lies! How can a boy...!]
"That’s what I’d like to know."
It was common knowledge that a Saintess’s essence could only inhabit a female body. For some reason, Simon was the exception.
[Hmm.] The Essence of Harvest looked him up and down with a suspicious gaze. [Are you really a boy? Can I pull down your pants to check?]
"What are you talking about!" Simon exclaimed, blushing as he clutched his trousers and backed away. An essence that harassed humans!
[Don’t be so dramatic, we’re in an inner world. Still, it is strange.] The essence crossed her arms, her expression turning serious. [A boy with the ’Qualification’. And a very special one, at that. Let’s have a look... Oho!]
Her eyes lit up as she walked behind Simon.
[Looks like someone has already visited.]
Simon belatedly noticed the object behind him. It was a pure white throne, intricately carved to resemble burning flames. The Essence of Harvest ran her palm over its surface.
[This is her work.]
"Yeah. The Essence of Purification."
It now resided in Lethe’s body, though it was more accurate to call it the ’Essence of Stars’.
As the Essence of Harvest touched the flame-engraved throne, a real flame flickered to life with a soft ’whoosh’. She snatched her hand back in surprise.
[Alright, alright! So touchy. I’ll stop,] she said, as if speaking to the throne itself, before standing up. [Its power hasn’t vanished. It still resides within your body.]
"So it seems."
Simon knew this well; his mother, Anna, had experienced something similar. The Essence of Purification, seeking a new host, had tried to inhabit Anna, the former ’Saintess of Miracles’. The two essences had clashed, nearly killing her.
’If the Essence of Harvest enters my body, will I experience a similar backlash?’
Simon grunted, crossing his arms. ’But there’s no time to hesitate.’
At this rate, Lethe would die fighting Ever Kire alone. Not only her, but everyone else here. If Ever Kire succeeded in making this ruined Roc Island a reality, the repercussions would be unimaginable. The entire continent would be in danger.
He needed power. Any power he could get.
"I propose a deal, Essence of Harvest," Simon said, holding out his hand. "Lend me your power to defeat the fake god and Ever Kire."
Seeing his outstretched hand, she grimaced and shrank back. [Ugh, even if you have the ’Qualification’... the thought of residing in a boy’s body is just... physiologically repulsive.]
"Another essence has already entered my body. There’s a precedent, so what’s the problem?"
[I know, but... it just feels a little... no, a lot strange!]
"Then are you content to stay here and eat rotten roots for eternity?"
His words must have hit their mark. She scratched her head, her face a mask of conflict. [...Fine, I have no choice. But you said it was a deal, right?]
Taking Simon’s hand, the Saintess of Harvest walked to the back of the space. She stopped beside the throne the Essence of Purification had made, then turned and made a motion as if to sit.
With a faint whisper, a new throne materialized in that spot—a white seat of power engraved with images of grass, trees, and grain.
[I have a condition, too. Will you hear it?]
Simon nodded readily. "Of course. That’s what a deal is."
At the same time, on Roc Island, outside the Valkeje Arena.
With the closing ceremony approaching, students from every department were competing in the morning matches.
Kajan walked with a heavy expression, checking the watch on his wrist yet again.
’Still no regular report from Simon.’
Simon was competing in the Valkeje Arena. But since he was also tasked with escorting the Saintess, he had promised to report in, even during a match. He had waited, but no report had come.
’Did something happen?’
Kajan walked toward the arena, raising his communication crystal. "This is K-1. Confirm the status of the Saintess in the Valkeje Arena."
A necromancer agent’s voice crackled through the crystal. "This is HO. What are you talking about? The Saintess in the arena? The Saintess of Harvest is in the cave. Still no movement."
"I’m not talking about the Saintess of Harvest. I’m talking about the one who just arrived..."
Kajan’s words trailed off. ’What am I saying? The one who just arrived... who?’
"Haha! What’s this all of a sudden? Are you saying there are two Saintesses in Kizen? That’s quite an emergency."
There was only one Saintess on Roc Island. The Saintess of Harvest had been attacked by Ever Kire, and Alistair’s team was continuing the search alone.
And yet...
’I was trying to contact Simon.’
He raised his wrist. ’Because I thought Simon was with the Saintess... because?’
A flash of static-like interference crossed his mind, and an image of fluttering, ash-gray hair appeared. A strange sense of déjà vu. Kajan pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead.
’A second Saintess? Who is she?’
He clung to the thought, and a fragmented voice echoed in his memory.
"What is it, Simon? Why are you alone?"
"Lethe is...!"
A faint memory of a conversation with Simon surfaced—a memory that hadn’t been there before. His mind fought against it, desperately trying to steer him away from something he shouldn’t recall, but Kajan focused with transcendent concentration.
"No, the Saintess has disappeared! This note...!"
A wave of static washed over the memory.
"So reckless, even after her own senior was attacked."
The recollection ended, and Kajan’s eyes snapped open.
’Who is Lethe? If ’her senior’ refers to the Saintess of Harvest, did a replacement really come here?’
It could be a delusion, a dream fragment rising from his subconscious due to fatigue.
But the enemy he was chasing was Ever Kire. And the moment he recalled her Innate Ability...
A chill ran down his spine.
"Damn it! Has that woman gotten to me already?!"
A memory existed that Ever Kire had erased and distorted. The moment he realized it, Kajan immediately used Jet-Black to race toward the Valkeje Arena.
"This is K-1! I need data immediately!"
"This is HO. Go ahead."
The key was Simon. If he pieced together the fragments of memory, a second Saintess named Lethe had arrived on Roc Island. As a key protection target, she was with Simon, who was supposed to be making regular reports. But the reports had stopped. The last place Simon was known to be was—
"I need the file on the 16th arena, the Valkeje Arena!"
"Okay. Just that? With Lord Alistair’s authority, it’ll be quick. Ten minutes."
In that time, Kajan arrived at the Valkeje Arena. He entered cautiously, wary of an ambush, but the scene was perfectly normal. Spectators cheered from the stands while students competed diligently on the field. He could even see Simon among them.
’Was he just too busy to make contact? No, that can’t be it.’
Kajan sniffed the air. ’A faint scent of blood. And...’
The fine hairs on his body stood on end, not straight up, but twisted into tight curls. That reaction meant only one thing.
’Divinity.’
Ever Kire had done something to this arena. Kajan strode from the stands toward the field.
"This is HO. I found the data, but something’s definitely off."
"Report."
"There are two conflicting administrative orders. One is a rejection order for the Valkeje Arena, and the other is a usage permit."
"A rejection and a permit can’t exist for the same location."
"I asked the staff, and they just shrugged. They don’t know why the conflicting data is there. Even the commanders who issued the orders don’t remember doing so. The whole thing was just dropped."
"And you don’t find that strange?"
"It’s strange, sure, but have you found anything?"
Kajan tapped his temple. "If you have a brain, use it. Who is the enemy we’re facing?"
"Hey, I don’t know what you’re talking abou— Ah! Lord Alistair!"
The communication crystal was passed to someone else with a click.
"So Ever Kire has already made her move," Alistair’s deep voice rumbled. "She tried to hide the Valkeje Arena because it was her target."
Alistair continued, "I was listening to your report. The existence of a second Saintess is most interesting."
Kajan smirked. "I’m glad to be speaking with someone who understands. But do you believe me?"
Alistair’s voice was laced with cold fury. "I have no choice but to believe. We have been pursuing her with conventional methods and have achieved nothing. It’s time to change our approach. We must accept the unconventional, even the insane, as truth."
The corners of Kajan’s mouth curled into a grim smile. "Excellent."
"Are you on site?"
"Yes."
Kajan gave a detailed report of the situation, and Alistair formulated a plan on the spot.
"There must be spectators nearby, correct?"
Kajan turned, crystal still in hand. He saw a middle-aged man cheering enthusiastically for the students. "Yes. But I feel a strange sense of dissonance."
"Make contact."
Kajan placed his hand on the spectator’s shoulder. "I can touch him. It’s not an intangible illusion."
"As I thought. Apply stimulus and observe his reaction."
Kajan tightened his grip, applying enough force to dislocate the man’s shoulder. The spectator showed no sign of pain, his eyes still glued to the match, a wide grin on his face.
"...Damn it."
"I can imagine," Alistair said. "It’s identical to Case 6 from her file. The analysis is complete. Give me your coordinates."
No sooner had Kajan relayed his position than a smooth magic circle unfolded in the air. A bag dropped from it—one of Alistair’s abilities. Inside was a handle with a switch.
"It’s an artifact that cuts through illusionary barriers."
Kajan pressed the switch, and a blade of pure mana shot out with a sharp hiss.
"Can you feel the divinity?"
"Yes, as long as a Priest isn’t deliberately hiding it." Kajan rolled up his sleeve. The hairs on his arm stood on end, twisting into tight curls.
"Excellent. I will give you your orders. We are departing immediately."
After receiving his instructions, Kajan leaped into the middle of the arena. Despite his sudden intrusion, the spectators paid him no mind.
’There. That’s where the divinity is strongest!’
Kajan raised both arms, his nails like claws. Drawing on all the Jet-Black he could muster, he slashed at a statue of a fountain.
<Kajan Original - Fang>
With a deafening shriek, the X-shaped blades tore through the air, and the scenery of the arena distorted. He hurled the artifact into the shimmering tear in reality. The spinning blade dug into the gap, and...
As the statue crumbled, the veil of distortion was ripped away. Kajan stared at what lay beneath.
’This is...!’
An empty, silent arena. There were signs of a massive struggle everywhere—debris scattered about, craters in the spectator seats, and scorch marks on the floor.
"Ever Kire took Simon and the others."
A high-pitched whine filled the air as Jet-Black magic circles began to spread across the arena floor. Kajan stepped back and waited. As the circles completed, a group of people materialized within them.
"Good work, Kajan," Alistair said. He looked uncharacteristically disheveled, his face flushed and beaded with sweat as he panted for breath. "What’s the situation?"
"We were one step too late," Kajan reported. "Ever Kire has already taken Simon, the second Saintess, and the spectators to another branch of reality."
"To think such an Innate Ability exists," Alistair muttered, striding irritably across the field as he cast diagnostic magic circles. It wasn’t a random act of frustration; by observing how the circles took color, he could minutely analyze the location and type of formulas Ever Kire had used. "An unprecedented enemy. We can’t change what has happened, but we must do what we can. This may be our only chance to strike back."
Alistair’s expression turned grim. "We must find a way to help ’that side’... Kajan, where are you going?"
Kajan was sniffing the air, rummaging through the wreckage of the statue he had just destroyed. He pulled something from the debris.
"It may seem like an invincible ability," he said, holding up an artifact that pulsed with divinity. His eyes shone with a fierce light. "But there is undoubtedly a weakness."
At the same time.
The other Roc Island was a heaven of falling stars. They poured from the east and west, colliding and exploding over the floating island in a ceaseless, fiery war.
"Ugh!"
Lethe, who had been fighting with both arms outstretched, staggered back with a pained grunt. She glanced to her side and shouted, "Simon! How long are you going to sleep?! Get up and—Ah!"
A star from the goddess slammed into the ground beside her with a series of thunderous booms, gouging out a massive crater. Thrown by the aftershock, she rolled across the dirt.
’Hah...’
Pushing herself up from the rubble, Lethe stared with a dazed expression. She had exhausted even the minimal divinity required to summon the stars. Worse, she had no way to directly attack the goddess. She raised a trembling arm. To think she would die here, in a foreign land, in the very heart of the necromancers’ domain.
No, this was no time for weakness.
"I can still fight...!"
As if in response to her indomitable will, a pillar of dazzling light erupted from Simon’s body, shooting toward the heavens.
"Ah, finally! What took you so long?! Si—"
Her eyes went wide.
"...mon?"
Simon’s body was transforming. His hair had turned a stark, pure white, and his eyes glowed with a golden light. His Kizen uniform was being enveloped by white fabric—the Holy Vestments, the symbol of a Saintess. And those sacred robes were wrapping themselves around the body of a necromancer.
Lethe stared, her eyes wide with disbelief.
’...Am I dreaming?’
Simon kicked off his shoes, his bare feet touching the ground. The moment they did, she felt an immense wave of energy transfer. Like a tree drawing water through its roots, his feet began to absorb the divinity from the earth. Not stopping there, he swung his arm.
With a sharp crack of displaced air, the wheat fields covering Roc Island swayed violently. Grains of divinity rose like fireflies, then streamed toward Simon in a torrent of light.
His body was engulfed in a blinding radiance.
[What are you scheming?!] Ever Kire shrieked as the false goddess unleashed a barrage of stars at Simon.
He didn’t dodge. He simply lifted his head to meet the assault.
A massive barrier of divinity materialized in front of him with a deafening boom. The stars either shattered against it or were deflected harmlessly.
"This is impossible!" Lethe cried out in astonishment. That was the ’Earthen Barrier’, the signature ability of the Saintess of Harvest. A man—a necromancer, no less—was wielding a Saintess’s power! Believing Ever Kire’s distorted world was real seemed more plausible than the sight before her eyes.
With a faint whisper, Simon reached his arm back. Divinity coalesced in his grasp, forming the handle of a weapon. It extended endlessly to the side, a colossal blade materializing at its end. It was an anomaly, forged from a substance that did not exist in this world—a pure white scythe, the physical manifestation of the authority he now wielded. The weapon was so immense that its blade tore through the ground, growing ever larger.
"Here I go," Simon said, his voice calm as he bent his knees, gathering all his newfound power.
And then he launched himself forward.
The moment he kicked off, the very bedrock of Roc Island was torn asunder, and his body vanished.
Ever Kire whipped her head around, frantically searching. The false goddess rolled her eyes, trying to locate him, but...
"Don’t move."
The goddess froze with a faint metallic ring. The boy with hair like white flames was suddenly standing on her shoulder. He held the handle of the scythe in one hand, its massive blade resting just under her chin, a silent, deadly threat.
[How dare you!] Ever Kire raged. [A mere human dares to raise a blade to a god’s throat?! And with divinity, no less!]
The goddess’s arm rose, reaching to swat him away.
"I said, don’t move."
With an impassive expression, Simon pulled.
<Simon Original - Final Fate>
The movement was utterly silent. The white scythe swept through the air without a sound, without a trace.
With a soft slicing sound, the goddess’s head, resting upon the blade, was severed.
The world seemed to stop. No one moved, no one breathed, until the colossal head finally plunged into the sea below.
[Noooooooooooooooooo!]
The boy had slain a living god.

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