Golden eyes glimmering unsteadily beneath the moonlight gazed fixedly at me. I had been about to ask what exactly he was doing there, when I suddenly realized that his complexion was exceptionally pale and white even within the darkness.
"……What are you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you really a ghost?"
"I don't understand what you're saying."
At the shameless reply, my brows furrowed of their own accord.
"I won't fall for it twice."
Muttering coldly, I glanced toward the barracks where Zenon and Samuel must be sleeping. Sensing that I intended to wake them, the other party spoke gently.
"They won't wake up."
"What did you do to them?"
"They have merely fallen into a slightly deep sleep."
"Nadab……!"
"Your familiars cannot see us, so calling them will be of no use. We simply wish to converse. We have no ability to harm created beings."
The thing wearing Zenon's form fully revealed itself beneath the moonlight. Truly, it was a flawless disguise. Had I not been deceived once, I would have been completely fooled.
"First, change that appearance. It's unpleasant."
"Since you are generous to this one, we borrowed this one's form seeking mercy."
At the unexpected answer, I was momentarily speechless. Had I been generous to Zenon?
My hesitation was brief. I certainly had been.
The goodwill he had shown all this time was more than enough to draw out my generosity. That I had started to take his worried demeanor for granted must have stemmed from that as well.
I glanced toward Zenon's barracks and gazed at the presence before me.
"The one I'm generous to is the real Zenon, not you of unknown identity."
"……Those words are correct."
The other party readily agreed. For a moment, their body seemed to blur, then transformed into a pitch-black doll. The features that emerged only as outlines on the pitch-black face were eerie.
[Our form is incomplete. We cannot materialize further than this.]
"You didn't answer my question earlier. Are you a ghost?"
The smile that had been gracefully formed as if drawn in a painting blurred. The other party, who had fallen silent with an ambiguous expression, slowly nodded.
[Most similar. We are records wandering through time, shadows of glory, and abandoned remnants.]
Zigur had said that remnants of authority remained in the stone statue. Tristan had also said they would be nothing more than illusions prattling pointlessly.
It seemed their explanations were accurate.
"Are you remnants of authority?"
[We are the will contained within the authority of Birth.]
"Then you're not the Prophet's soul?"
[Prophet…….]
A laugh tinged with mockery permeated the softly muttered voice. Lips that faintly smiled moved.
[An unfitting title, but we respect the effort to at least honor the beginning in that way. We find it interesting.]
The faint smile was soon erased. The ghost looked at me expressionlessly.
[But we are weary. Remembering eternity is a tedious punishment. The agent of Birth does not answer the call, so we ask you. Please realize the unfinished authority.]
"I don't understand why you're requesting such a thing from me. Unfortunately, I don't have the power you speak of."
[Please share the goddess's mercy. We desire rest, oblivion, and an end.]
The ghost didn't seem to understand the concept of conversation.
"I'm telling you I have no idea what you're talking about."
[The last authority of death was not realized, and the world's providence was not completed.]
I was starting to get annoyed. Sweeping my bangs back, I took a deep breath, then clenched my teeth to suppress my rising voice.
"Can't you please speak with direct and easy words?"
Don't just circle around with stories only you know!
[We are weary…….]
"Don't just list impressive-sounding words like weariness and mercy—convey the key points clearly. So you're a ghost who can't die, living on."
At my sharp tone, the ghost flinched and hunched its shoulders. Even with only the outlines of its features, the ghost's bewilderment was evident.
[……Yes.]
"And right now you want to die."
[……That is correct.]
"And to die, you need to realize the authority or whatever."
The ghost, who had been somewhat deflated, nodded with a noticeably brighter expression.
[That is right.]
"And you believe I can do it."
[Of course.]
The ghost waited for my answer filled with anticipation. Gazing at such a ghost, I fell into thought for a moment.
They must be that desperate to come to the barracks in the dead of night without being able to wait even a day.
As much as they're desperate, they'd likely be swayed by my demands, so it seemed suitable for extracting information.
Wondering what to ask that would be helpful, I decided to ask what the Dullahans couldn't answer.
"Who am I?"
[Pardon?]
Even with pitch-black features, bewilderment was clearly evident. Coldly staring at the dazed ghost, I asked again.
"I'm asking who you think I am."
Who I was—wouldn't this ghost know exactly?
[Y, you are…….]
The ghost was flustered. Clasping their hands together and hesitating, they spoke in an uncertain voice.
[You are leading familiars. They had forgotten, but we recognized them. They are ones who betrayed Birth and sought to spread death…….]
"Did I ask about our Dullahans' identity just now? I mean me. Me. You're begging for help without even knowing who I am?"
[I do know! You are the Hand of Rest, the agent of death.]
Starting with words that burst forth like a dam, the ghost's urgent explanation continued.
[Your fingers illuminate the end of life, your voice leads to the end of life, and your tears flow into the river of oblivion. For death has granted you authority. Without your authority, no one could escape the threads of fate. You are the only opponent of the agent chosen by Birth, and……!]
"Wait, wait!"
Cutting off the ghost's breathless words, I asked carefully.
"What is the Hand of Rest?"
[Death is the existence of the beginning, the goddess of night who guides the end of all things. When she sought to eliminate the threads of fate and oppose Birth, you were appointed as her agent.]
Dully chewing over the ghost's words, I slowly furrowed my brows.
"……So I went around killing all things in that goddess's stead?"
At my serious question, the ghost sighed with a disappointed face.
[That is an extremely tasteless expression.]
"You said Hand of Rest."
[Ah, the Hand of Rest we know was more noble and great than this.]
What is it saying. Is that important right now?
"Did I really go around killing people?"
When I asked again, the ghost drooped its shoulders and muttered gloomily.
[……The wise and steadfast appearance of the past is nowhere to be found. Is it because of the failure of authority? Or does everyone become this foolish after crossing the river of oblivion? If so, I wonder if our gaining freedom is truly a good thing…….]
Staring disapprovingly at the ghost muttering in a confused tone, I crossed my arms and wore an indifferent expression.
"You came to ask for help but don't look very regretful. I guess you don't really need rest."
[Pardon? Ah, no. I apologize.]
The ghost scratched the back of its head and squirmed. It seems after mimicking Zenon, even its behavior has been copied.
"If you're sorry, continue the explanation you were giving. Why did the last authority of death fail?"
[Because Birth, the god of the radiant morning, protected the threads of fate. At the last moment, one of your familiars chose the god's breath instead of the goddess's mercy. Because of that, the other familiars were deprived of rest, and you too were thrown into the river of oblivion. The battle entered a period of rest, and the two gods fell into long slumber.]
At those words, the temple records Samuel had told me about came to mind.
Twelve prophets who were beheaded for the crime of challenging god's authority. But due to one person's betrayal, the sinners failed at the last moment.
If the ghost's words were all true, these records were written from the perspective of 'Birth.'
Conversely, Zigur had said that the 'Captain' saved them. That he liberated them from the power that was binding them, that he respected them. That would be closer to the perspective of 'Death.'
The puzzle pieces that had been scattered randomly were coming together, gradually forming a single picture.
[Birth, who awakened again, desires this world to be placed under the threads of fate. When his agent completes the ordained fate, the lives of created beings entangled in that fate will also be placed under his authority. That will someday cover the entire world, falling into an eternal cycle of life without rest. But we desire rest. We pray that this weariness has an end.]
"So in short…… the god I thought was one turned out to be two, and after they fought without determining a winner, they both fell asleep, but one of them woke up first and is trying to repeat the past."
And one of the people those two gods appointed as agents was me.
Blankly chewing over the ghost's words, I reflexively narrowed my eyes.
"Who is Birth's agent?"
[We do not know. However, we sensed that the god's will has manifested.]
"……Is that will really a god's? Not some evil that ran rampant?"
[Good and evil are ambiguous concepts. In the beginning, there exist only the strong authorities of the two great gods.]
Lost for words, I clutched my forehead. This is too, the scale is too excessive. I just had my head cut off ordinarily and was resurrected unintentionally.
[It is more accurate to see for yourself rather than hear from us. The chapel basement has been preserved.]
"Basement?"
[Yes, it was sealed after the two gods fell asleep, and everything has been preserved as it was. We recommend you visit that basement.]
I recalled the hole that had been blown open in the chapel floor. That the ghost had pulled me toward that area must have been its own intention to guide me.
'Would there be any useful records there?'