SRS 1

How blind can greed make a person?

Yohan now knew the answer.

“Ugh…!”

Dark red blood spread across the floor of the underground prison.

With his limbs bound and his body crushed under a large rock, Yohan heard the sound of approaching footsteps. A pair of white shoes stopped right before his nose.

“Herse.”

The man in sacred, dazzling priestly robes looked down at him.

Herse.

A title granted only to the High Priest, a mark of one beloved by God.

At the age of fifteen, Yohan had ascended to the position of High Priest. With his immense divine power and compassion, he had been destined to leave behind an unprecedented legacy and be remembered as the most powerful High Priest in history.

That would have been his fate.

Now those titles and honors were nothing but relics of the past. Yohan would be recorded in history as the most cowardly and vile believer.

And it was all because of the man before him, Cheplen.

Cheplen lifted Yohan’s chin with the tip of his shoe.

“To think you colluded with a demon. That is not something a High Priest should ever do. How could the Herse, the one who was once the light and the embrace of the lambs, fall so far into corruption?”

Each hypocritical word that came out of his mouth as if he pitied him made Yohan’s shoulders tremble.

Who was he to speak of collusion with demons?

Who, though born as a child of God, blinded by power and jealousy, had truly invited corruption and brought in a demon?

Yohan’s chest burned with resentment, but after falling into Cheplen’s scheme, swallowing a demon’s heart, and watching his organs rot away while his divine power faded, he was powerless.

His tongue had been cut out, what words could he even speak?

Even so, Yohan did not bow his head. He glared at Cheplen.

When Cheplen saw that, even with one eye lost, Yohan’s golden eye still held its light, his mouth twisted.

“Those eyes again.”

Whack. The heel of his shoe struck Yohan’s cheek. Blood tainted with a curse splattered across the floor.

“Do you still believe God watches over you? Even in this state?”

His merciless kicks came one after another.

Yohan, who at first endured out of sheer will, finally lowered his head.

“Do you still plan to teach that God is watching over us?”

After driving Yohan to the ground, Cheplen looked down at his trembling body, then knelt on one knee.

Even though he detested staining his clothes, he didn’t seem to care this time. He lowered himself and grabbed Yohan’s hair.

Yohan’s head was yanked back, and their eyes met.

Through his dimming vision, Yohan saw Cheplen’s white-silver hair sway.

“Yohan.”

Cheplen’s voice, stripped of all respect, called his name. It was a familiar voice, one Yohan had once longed to hear, but not like this. Not now.

His eyes wavered with sorrow.

“…‘Herse’. It was far too grand a title for you.”

But only for a moment.

“From now on, I will be the new Herse.”

At that declaration, Yohan’s lifeless golden eyes regained a dim light.

In the next instant, as if he couldn’t allow that, Cheplen strangled Yohan.

Crack.

The more strength Cheplen put into his fingers, the paler Yohan’s face became.

“Kh…!”

Yohan gasped and struggled, but bound hand and foot, his resistance was useless.

“Guh…”

He saw Cheplen’s face as his consciousness blurred.

Yohan furrowed his brows when he saw his expression.

Where had it all gone wrong?

Was it when he first trusted Cheplen?

Or when he ignored the jealousy he had seen in him?

Or was it when he selfishly refused to let Cheplen resign, even after he said he wanted to?

Whatever it was, it couldn’t be undone.

The strength slowly drained from Yohan’s body.

Hearing his breaths weaken toward the end, Cheplen spoke in a low voice, as if promising their next meeting.

“Let’s meet again, in the lowest place.”

Those were the last words Yohan heard.

His vision dimmed, and the agony that had tormented him for over two years began to fade.

In the moment of death, what he felt was a strange relief and pity for the empire’s bleak future.

Thud.

Yohan’s head fell from Cheplen’s grasp.

Yohan Herse

A line was drawn through the name of the eighteen-year-old boy who had once been most dearly loved.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

‘God performs miracles in the lowest places to watch over us. That is why we believe that those who bring miracles rise up from the depths.’

He didn’t know why memories of his early days in the temple, when he had just begun his training, came back to him now.

Was this what people called life flashing before our eyes before death?

In his fading consciousness, Yohan thought,

So I really am dead.

Now he would descend to the lowest place.

To the place called Hell, where he would carry the sins of his life and face divine punishment.

While suffering in eternal flame, he would surely meet Cheplen again once his life had run its course.

He had been innocent, and the one who had made a pact with a demon was Cheplen, but the fact that they would both end up in the lowest place still felt unfair.

Even so, Yohan couldn’t resent God.

Just as their ends had not been equal, neither had their beginnings. It was only his own fault for failing to protect God’s love. Thinking so, Yohan tried to move his fingers.

…Wait. Why did everything feel so vivid?

Realizing that something was wrong, Yohan suddenly gasped.

Impossible…

He could breathe. His hands moved. A chill ran through his head as if cold water had been poured over it, and his mind cleared. At the same time, his eyelids lifted.

Flash!

When he opened his eyes, a brilliant blue sky filled his vision. It was dazzling and beautiful, the kind of sky that made him sigh in awe.

Yohan, startled by the feel of his tongue as he breathed out, opened his eyes wide. His tongue, which had been cut long ago, was completely intact.

Now that he thought about it, his vision seemed wider than before.

When he reached up to touch his left eye in disbelief, his fingertips trembled.

His tongue, his ruined eye, the organs that had rotted away from demonic energy, all were whole again. Even the divine power that had nearly disappeared was now surging strong around his heart.

“…What is this?”

Yohan, looking as if he had seen a ghost, slowly raised his body.

He had no idea what had happened.

Judging by his senses, he seemed alive… but then, where was this place?

The place around him looked like an ordinary quiet village. It was far too peaceful to be hell.

Looking around in confusion, Yohan spotted an old man passing nearby and instinctively grabbed him.

“Huh?”

The old man, burdened with a heavy load on his back, turned around with an annoyed look. Yohan naturally took part of the load from him and asked,

“…Excuse me, where am I?”

It wasn’t heaven, nor hell, nor the underground prison he had died in. He couldn’t make sense of it, so he asked. The old man looked him up and down, studying his face and clothes, then sighed as if he understood.

“So, another newcomer, eh.”

“…?”

“This is the Nameless Realm. It’s a place where the living pass through just before they become the dead. A ground of opportunity.”

“…The Nameless Realm?”

The name was unfamiliar, and so was everything the old man said.

When Yohan failed to understand, the old man clicked his tongue and beckoned with his hand.

“Come along. I’ll show you around.”

His tone clearly said that he found it bothersome but was doing it out of duty.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Hey, everyone! A newcomer’s here!”

Still unsure of what was going on, Yohan followed the old man to a large three-story building. The old man, who seemed to be a fixture of the place, pushed the huge doors open without hesitation and shouted.

A mild commotion followed, and a few knights in uniform came out.

“A newcomer? …Ah, this one?”

They glanced once at the old man and then at Yohan, quickly recognizing that he was new. One of them reached out his hand. Yohan blinked at it blankly.

The knight smiled.

“You must be confused, right? I understand. Everyone reacts that way the first time they arrive.”

His calm, practiced tone reminded Yohan of the old man earlier. Clearly, this was routine for them.

Unable to help himself, Yohan asked again the same question he had asked before.

“…Where exactly is this place?”

“This is the Nameless Realm.”

The same answer. Yohan frowned and pressed further.

“Then what exactly is this Nameless Realm?”

“Ah, so we’re starting there. Well…” The knight stroked his chin, choosing his words.

“To put it simply, this is a middle layer. Souls that are too uncertain for heaven and too pitiful for hell come here, where they keep their bodies and remain. It’s a place apart from the living world, where one is given another chance at life. Sometimes, those who died with too much regret fall here as well.”

“…I see?”

Even with that clearer explanation, Yohan couldn’t quite grasp it.

He frowned slightly and repeated the knight’s words in his mind.

So, he hadn’t gone to the highest place or the lowest, but had fallen here instead? Because… he still had regrets?

Since he had swallowed a demon’s heart, falling into hell should have been inevitable.

If he had ended up here regardless, there was only one reason.

Yohan thought back to his past life, his mind tangled.

Cheplen.

He had been Yohan’s teacher and friend. After Yohan had become High Priest, Cheplen had stayed at his side as his aide, always lending a hand when he faced troubles.

That was why Yohan had trusted him and opened his heart to him, never imagining he would die by that very hand.

Then… did he want revenge?

Was that the regret that had brought him here?

“……”

No. That wasn’t it.

Once, he had felt betrayal and disappointment so deep that he might have wished for vengeance, but now… he wasn’t sure. Maybe dying had made him detached.

The only thing that lingered in his mind was Cheplen’s expression at the moment of death.

A voice trembling with joy, but a face twisted in anguish.

Eyes that looked ready to cry.

The foolish man had been choking him, yet looked as if he himself was the one suffocating.

Having made such a face, Cheplen would live forever strangled by his own guilt. Unless the demon consumed him completely.

“…Ha.”

Lost in thought, Yohan let out a small, hollow laugh.

Even now, he found himself worrying that Cheplen might be devoured by the demon.

Anyone who saw him would call him a fool, a sentimental idiot.

Yes, attachment.

If such feelings counted as attachment, then perhaps he did have regrets.

Of all the things he’d left behind, what weighed most on his heart was not Cheplen himself, but the empire that would fall into the demon’s hands without knowing anything.

Yohan, his expression clouded, came out of his thoughts and murmured softly,

“…Yes. Maybe I do have some regrets.”

When he gave that vague answer with a faint smile, the knight, who had been waiting patiently, brightened at once.

“That’s good news!”

“…What?”

Good news? Why?

Was he being mocked?

As Yohan blinked in confusion, the knight walked to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a sheet of paper.

“For people like you, there’s an option we always recommend right away. Here, take this!”

Startled, Yohan accepted the paper the knight handed him and froze.

What’s with these colors…?

The leaflet was so garishly colored that it hurt to look at, filled with every shade imaginable. Right in the center, bold letters caught his eye:

〈Welcome to Fantasmademia, the Resurrection School of Dreams and Hope!〉

There was something undeniably suspicious about that cheerful slogan.