Vroooom—
The familiar sound of an engine revving. The wheels of the vehicle moved briskly, and the murky city air tickled my throat as usual.
I could see people with their heads bowed, looking at something. Each held a square panel in their hands.
Smartphones.
Ortes followed a path that was now unfamiliar but still instinctive to his body—it was the way home.
After entering the password and opening the door—
“You’re late?”
A familiar figure appeared—someone who shouldn’t have been there.
A sigh escaped me. From the moment I saw the cars and people holding smartphones, I had a vague feeling something was off.
Still, isn’t this a bit too lazy?
“What kind of dream are you trying to show me here?”
I pulled up a chair and sat down. It was because I instinctively knew that someone—who looked like Carisia, or rather, someone pretending to be Carisia—was showing me visions from Earth.
“Hmm, what went wrong? I only included scenes that would be most familiar and comforting to you.”
“Seems like you’ve got some serious misconceptions. Coming home to find my boss waiting for me isn’t a good omen; it’s more like a nightmare.”
The figure resembling Carisia tilted their head, saying, “Is that so?” Somehow, it gave me chills.
Actually, the most definitive sign that this was a dream wasn’t any of those things.
My eyes felt light.
There was no oppressive sensation, like being forcibly restrained by shackles. Nor was there the pain akin to thorny vines piercing my brain when I enhanced my vision.
There’s no way my everyday life could feel this refreshing. Realizing that my clear vision indicated I was dreaming is embarrassingly absurd when I think about it.
“So… Who are you? A spirit lingering in a relic?”
The figure resembling Carisia nodded calmly.
“Yes, I am a priestess of ancient Estia.”
Estia. One of the twelve great deities before Bacchus. The goddess of hearths. Though her domain includes the image of kitchen stoves, she also symbolizes homes, peace, and harmony.
Did we retrieve an artifact of Estia from the Pluto Temple?
After arriving at Hydra Corp, I collapsed before I could even properly gather my thoughts. There were so many relics it was impossible to tell which ones might contain spirits.
But knowing the deity often allows one to guess the form of the relic. I recalled a few items related to flames.
“There was a lantern that resembled a mood lamp. I set it aside, thinking I’d use it for indirect lighting…”
“Yes?”
“Oh, just talking to myself.”
I organized my thoughts. The spirit of Phobos in the relic had said I was qualified.
“Are you here to evaluate my worth as well?”
The priestess of Estia shook her head.
“To be precise, you are not the one being evaluated. Your qualifications mean the old priests have waited long enough.”
Her gentle, soft voice reminded me uncomfortably of Carisia.
“Can you change your appearance? Even in dreams, seeing my boss’s face makes me uneasy.”
“That depends on your will, not mine.”
More cryptic answers. I sighed.
“The last time, the man from the Phobos Order mentioned he couldn’t accept someone like Carisia. You don’t seem to share that sentiment.”
“The twelve relics were prepared for you. You are the rightful and sole successor. I have no intention of contesting that right.”
“If that’s the case, why not just hand them over silently and leave instead of coming into my dreams?”
Carisia—or rather, the Estian priestess disguised as Carisia—turned her gaze toward the window. The urban landscape of Earth. The bright lights of skyscrapers illuminating the fallen night.
A red dot circling the starless night sky. Probably a plane or a satellite, judging by its blinking lights.
Somewhere, the clatter of a train running on tracks echoed faintly.
“You wanted me to see the world I come from. And the other worlds across dimensions. And you wished to convey something—”
The world I come from. My suspicions grow stronger.
Were the ancient priests the ones who called me here? After all, the priest guarding Phobos’ crystal did refer to me as someone “called” here.
Though the mythological era when the priests were active dates back thousands of years, I still wonder why I woke up decades before the story began.
“The scene of your world differs from mine, yet it resembles our current age. Whether it’s due to the influence of the Wizard King or the inevitable architectural trends accompanying urban population growth, I cannot say.”
What does this have to do with the Wizard King?
“It seems your questions have been answered, so let me ask you something.”
The priestess remained silent, gazing beyond the window. Watching the moving figures, she murmured softly.
“A world without magic…”
“Why did you call me here? What do you want?”
Hearing the question, the priestess finally turned to look at me. At the chair where I sat, the desk beyond it, and the sparsely furnished room of someone living alone.
After fumbling for words, the priestess eventually closed her eyes.
“I apologize.”
“No, don’t apologize. If you’ve gone through the trouble of calling someone, shouldn’t you at least provide some sort of explanation?”
If you’re going to summon someone, shouldn’t there be some manual explaining what they need to do to return?
The priestess expressed surprise: “Surely it should still be in your memory…”
“All I remember is the plot of a novel about the Wizard King causing chaos.”
Upon reflection, this raised another question. If the ancient priests were the ones who brought me here, then what about the novel I read? What’s the connection between this magical world and the novel?
“What’s the relationship between that novel and this world?”
“A novel…?”
She truly seemed to know nothing.
“d*mn. Don’t you guys know everything?”
“We each remember different parts according to our assigned roles. The one who likely knew the most facts would be the Priest of Phobos.”
Ah, d*mn. That guy left after spouting nonsense.
The priestess whispered softly upon seeing my distorted expression.
“You are a soul from a world where neither magic nor any supernatural abilities remain. Such a soul was necessary for our plan. That’s all I know.”
Something in her words caught my attention—”no longer remain”?
Does that mean Earth originally had magic?
If I’d known this earlier, I would’ve asked the ghostly priest to explain everything clearly. What picture were they painting?
I pressed my forehead, realizing further questioning someone who claimed ignorance wouldn’t yield constructive answers.
I recalled what I had told the Priest of Phobos.
“You have completed your task. Rest as you please.”
The priestess nodded and delivered her final message:
“Someone else is gathering the relics. I can sense the screams of five souls. One of them seems dangerously close to fading.”
Wait, hold on—
“The guardians of the hearth have finished their duties. May your future be peaceful.”
“Hold on! Tell me more about what you just said!”
d*mn it. I woke up under the unnecessarily warm morning sunlight.
Instead of telling me to rest, she should’ve spilled everything she knew like Carisia would!
The lantern sitting on my bedside table came into view. Even with my half-opened eyes, I recognized it as an artifact of Estia.
Its function…
“Bestows peaceful sleep to those who fall asleep near its light? Totally impractical for combat.”
Now I understand why the Wizard King didn’t bother with any relics other than Phobos’. A relic best suited for deep sleep holds no value to him.
Of course, Estia wasn’t originally revered as a deity of combat. Expecting martial powers from the goddess of hearths and homes is wishful thinking.
“Five souls…”
It appears they were mixed in among the artifacts excavated from the Pluto Temple by the Theistic Order. Perhaps the Pope approved my excavation plan so easily because they were searching for those specific artifacts.
I’ll have to investigate further when the opportunity arises. I manipulated the gauntlet to access the Ethereal Network while lying down and checked my unread mails.
Checking work emails first thing in the morning fills me with melancholy.
Two noteworthy emails from the L13 account: an urgent meeting notice from Niobe concerning Panoptes, a safe return confirmation from Demos, and… the temple?
Wait, how did the entire temple end up in their possession?
I felt a mix of frustration and absurdity. Despite all the hardship, I could only secure a limited number of relics, yet the Theistic Order somehow acquired the whole temple?
Forcing myself to ignore the envy, I reviewed the remaining emails under the Hydra Corp Sacred Investigations Division Director’s name. Most were advertisements.
But one welcome name stood out.
Lampades. A brief message indicating he’d visit soon.
