Regressor, Possessor, Reincarnator - Chapter 75
Loren, the secretary of the student council, had a commoner background. Now turning 23 this year, he’d matriculated into the Academy back when he was 19 years old. He just barely managed to get in, narrowly squeaking past the standards set by the Academy.
However, that didn’t mean he lacked ability.
It was just that the baseline for talent at Galshdin Academy was astronomically high. At his level, he could immediately occupy intermediate-level positions no matter where he was dispatched, even if he was on the lower end of Academy standards.
He had a mediocre appearance and a mediocre personality—a relatively typical disposition that was so average, it was honestly hard to come by.
He was one of those students who seemed to be simultaneously present and absent from the student council.
“Sir, we have a letter for you.”
“Really? Thank you.”
The letter—a white sheet of paper—was delivered to him as he wrapped up his work for the day.
Loren looked at the letter, his name the only thing written upon it, with a puzzled face.
‘Well, I wonder who sent me a letter? I thought I’d received all of the forms already?’
This was his fourth year.
Delivering information. Making lists. Retrieving certain items at the auction.
When he first came in, it was hard for him to sleep at night because he was too frazzled—acting as a spy for the Academy, letting his peace of mind slip from him more than he anticipated.
This time, if he could only catch the traitor, he would tie up all the loose ends of his mission completely.
That was why he’d become more lax.
Even though a ‘spy’ should never let down their guard.
Loren opened the letter without any hesitation.
“…Oh.”
He froze.
(We hereby request that a Circulation ceremony be held.
We thereupon wish to verify the incarnation via the three stages of deprivation, circulation, and manifestation.)
A shocking declaration was written atop the white background.
Loren sprang to his feet. He didn’t even recognize that someone had bumped into him.
“Oh, my God.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Loren!”
He made a hasty apology and ran outside. He heard someone calling him from behind, but he didn’t care.
He didn’t have time to worry about such a thing.
‘The priest—I have to go to the priest.’
This issue was not something that he could resolve on his own.
Loren hurried to one of Elpis’s secret strongholds. He made as many unnecessary, repetitive turns as possible as he traveled, but if anyone had followed him, they surely could have caught him.
But it was far more important that he deliver this letter.
Loren arrived at a warehouse on the outskirts of the industrial district and rushed into the normally vacant space.
“Father!”
Bang!
Father Milan had been having a light meal when he heard the violent sound of the door opening, sighing when he realized that it was Loren.
“…You surprised me, Brother Loren. I don’t know what’s going on, but let’s take a deep breath before we begin…”
Shaking his head wildly at the Father’s words, Loren gasped for air as he exclaimed, “Ceremony!”
“What?”
“You have been called upon to execute a Circulation ceremony!”
Clang.
The Milan priest dropped the spoon he was holding. His mouth slacked open, his expression incredulous.
“Wh-what did you just say?”
“Finally, the time has finally come, Father!”
Loren knelt down with jubilant eyes. Those eyes, rolled back in ecstasy, gave off an eerie glow.
“The Apostle of the Prophecy has appeared.”
* * *
With ten days remaining until the dungeon practice-raid, the day had finally come.
The day that Circulation, the largest of the cults who currently carried prominence, would carry out their attack on Aveline, the saintess in question and one of the forces who fought with Heisel in the original storyline.
‘Originally, the Sindri siblings would join the attack, but…’
They would be occupied working in the blacksmith’s shop according to the plan being executed by Cathleen.
Though he’d originally planned on keeping them busy himself.
‘I guess it’s the butterfly effect or whatever…’
Who would have known that she, who had been the one to get dumped, would head to the Academy and subsequently recognize and support their talent.
He was glad she had lingered.
Otherwise, he would have had trouble finding another blacksmith of comparable talent.
“…Is this the right place?”
In an area a short distance from the main building stood an annex, where students could submit documents to create a club. Julius had made an appointment there.
‘Because I have to protect Aveline.’
He could build a good rapport with her, and he needed her to help the god grow. As a saintess, she would be endlessly useful to him.
If she was raised well, he wouldn’t have to worry about recruiting healers in the future.
Julius arrived in front of the classroom hidden away in the corner of the first floor of the annex.
Just as he began to wonder if he was in the right place for his appointment, someone popped open the door.
“Sir Julius!”
“Wow! That scared me… Irene?
Julius took a step back with a surprised face, and Irene smiled and grabbed his wrist.
“Hehe, what are you doing here? Come on in.”
“Wait…”
When he entered the classroom, there were six people who had arrived in advance. They watched and greeted him as Julius slowly entered the classroom, examining the faces of those present.
Anya, Aveline, Cathleen, Natasha, Helena, Irene, and Byron.
The talent he’d collected thus far.
It was reassuring to see that they were all still on his side.
It seemed that there were still some people whose positions were up in the air, but if he took the time to really recruit them, he figured that he could move them toward the ‘right’ path.
“Why are you so late, huh?”
Helena squinted at the clock. Seeing the clock passing the 10 o’clock mark, Julius made an excuse.
“In my home kingdom, the more important the appointment, the later you arrive…”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not late.”
Julius bowed slightly at her wrath.
“My bad.”
“Do better next time.”
She bowed her head, satisfied with Julius’s apology. Looking toward the corner, he saw Byron standing like a stone statue with a firmly set expression.
He could sense Byron silently asking for help, perhaps out of fear of being left alone in an enclosed space with only women.
‘Help me, My Lord…’
‘I’m sorry.’
Averting his gaze, Julius turned toward an unusual cry.
Gyahooo, gyahooo!
The god, a ball of white fur with small, purple horns poking out from the top of its head, had finally hatched a few days ago and now cried vigorously in a woman’s arms. She had brown, bobbed hair down to her shoulders and a playful expression to match.
She was the heretic saintess who hid her identity, and was now the owner of the Heavenly Seadragon, the whereabouts of which were still unknown.
* * *
* * *
Aveline and Anya were taking care of the god together.
“Here! Here! If you can do this, I’ll give you a little treat, huh? C’mon.”
Gyaho! Gyaho!
“Aveline. It’s still a god… Asking it to play fetch is a bit…”
“Oh, a god is supposed to be raised like this. Have you raised a god before?”
“Oh, no…”
“Uh-huh, then listen to me. I’ve already raised one once.”
“…Uh, well… Lying in this situation is a bit…”
Anya wondered whether or not she should believe what she said. In the meantime, Aveline set the god on the floor to see if it would really play fetch.
Julius called out the name he’d proudly given it before passing on ownership of the god.
“Dongdong, come here.”
Gyaho?
When its name was called, Dongdong, the god, turned its head.
“Julius, please don’t call it that.” Natasha dropped her uninterested act as her eyes widened in surprise.
Aveline nodded in agreement. “Yeah, what the fuck kind of name is ‘Dongdong’?”
“What’s wrong with ‘Dongdong’?”
Julius felt that the accusations were unjust.
How could they know that Dondong was dissatisfied with its name?
“Nothing at all. Dongdong.”
GYAHO.
“Pet names are meant to be affectionate.”
“It’s not a pet, it’s a fucking god.”
“Yeah, it’s a god.”
“Mister God.”
When Juliius nodded, as if indicating that he roughly got the point, Natasha tensed up.
Just as she was about to say something, Cathleen intervened. She had been carefully observing the situation as it unfolded since Julius first entered.
“I think it’s alright.”
Natasha, one beat behind her, kept her own thoughts to herself.
“It’s up to you. If that’s what you want, then that’s that, right?”
“…But still.”
“What if we still don’t like the next name you choose?”
“……”
“I think it’s useless to argue about something that’s already been settled.”
At her rebuttal, Natasha looked at the creature with a sad face and nodded. “…You are right.”
“M-me too, and I think what Julius says should go!” Irene had been looking for a break in the conversation and quickly opened her mouth to interject, her eyes filled with impatience.
Cathleen, pretending to not be Julius’s ex-fiance, began, “That’s right—”
Irene interrupted to keep her in check. “Honestly, I thought it was so weird at first, but it’s growing on me now that I keep hearing it!”
‘…We didn’t have any relationship at all until we came to the capital.’
Then suddenly, Julius began to take an interest in her.
Irene put up with that fact even though it was very, very, very unpleasant. She had no choice but to put up with his attention, after all. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help feeling nervous about losing him.
Cathleen took a step back and smiled slightly at Irene’s action, and Irene breathed a sigh of relief at Cathleen’s response.
‘…This is funny. This is really fuckin’ funny.’
Helena smiled in amusement at the whole scene.
What could make so many women cling to him?
She remembered how he appeared at the black market—his cold, violent appearance. Yet on the surface, he was polite and sometimes even a little servile on occasion.
Such a discrepancy in behavior was really quite amusing to her.
“So…” Looking around quietly, Byron made a small gesture. “Sir, why did you bring us together?”
As his words gathered the eyes of all who were talking, Byron shrank in on himself. The eyes of women were hard on him, a poor ugly fellow with little to no prior contact with women.
Gyaho?
Julius shifted his expression into a more serious one, stroking Dongdong, who was looking up at him.
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
Julius watched their expressions. He couldn’t reveal the reason why they were there.
“As members of the newly established traveling club, we’re going to decide on our first destination.”
[The Academy will be under attack soon. We’re here to prepare for those attacks.]
“The first event is always the most important, you know. So don’t you think it’d be better to decide our first destination altogether than for me to just pick one by myself?”
[If they know about Aveline’s goal, then it’s obvious that she will be targeted. We need to be physically together with her to prevent any harm from coming to her.]
Cathleen nodded to his words and agreed.
“Oh, I see… Alright, I guess. But did you really need to call everyone together?”
“There may be places that I want to go to that other people don’t, so I just wanted to hear everyone’s opinion.”
[Other students’ lives could be lost in the process…]
“Natasha is an elf, and Aveline is from the South, right? Everyone else here are humans from the Kingdom of Liberé.”
[If the attack is prolonged, authorities will come to settle it, and it’ll start gaining attention. A lot of attention.]
“Even if there are a lot of people coming from the same background, the places they’d want to go may be different. I think it’s better to just do it together all at once.”
[Us taking care of it is better than making the attack publicly known. Oh, plus there’s a bounty on Circulation, right?]
“Well, I guess you’re right. Sure. If that’s what you all want, then so be it.”
“We’re all in the same supplementary class, so we should all take care of it as a team, right?”
At his words, Aveline laughed dumbfounded. “What kind of supplementary class has ever beaten their seniors, geez…”
At those words, something seemed to occur to Natasha. “Oh, that reminds me of… What ever happened to that senior you fought with?”
“I don’t know. He’s probably in a hospital room somewhere?”
Aveline looked at Julius and said, “Julius, I can cure him if you want. Do you want me to do it?”
“It’s fine. He didn’t have a good reputation, anyway. You don’t need to go out of your way for a guy like that.”
“That’s right. You don’t have to do it. He’s already cured anyway.”
Eyebrows furrowing at Helena’s reply, Julius realized who was behind it.
‘The vice president, the second heir… He could find the means to cure such an injury.’
Next time, he’d finish him off completely.
Having finished his ruminations, he glanced at his watch and began to speak again. “Then let’s get started. Where do you all want to go for our first destination as the traveling club?”
The anticipated time of the attack was estimated to be around 11 o’clock.
There wasn’t much time left.
Julius continued his preparations, maintaining his defensive stance.
‘I’ve informed Laina, so I’m gonna leave it up to her to take care of Allen.’
Preparations for the attack now complete, Julius calmed his racing heart at the clear and expected sight of his companions, their gazes focused solely on him.
And—
“…Huh?”
—nothing happened.
“No, wait a minute.”
Until the end of the day.
* * *
The first prophet, ‘Cold Flame’, announced, “A potential candidate for the Apostle has been found. But there’s a problem.”
The second prophet, ‘Dry Wave’, replied, “What problem? We cannot afford to wait any longer. These waves of death and destruction must be stopped.”
The third prophet, ‘Burnt Roots’, whispered, “Cough, cough, hehehe, th-there a-are t-t-two candidates, too!”
The fourth prophet, ‘Pulverized Steel’, laughed, “One must be false, and one must be true.”
The final and fifth prophet, ‘Poor Soil’, asked, “Has there been any verification? Just in time… I was asked to hold a ceremony for the Circulation.”
Five spoke, and five answered.
Four discussed, one recorded.
Three suggested, two verified.
Two contemplated, three confirmed.
One agreed, and four refused.
The discussion of five had concluded.
“One shall move, and they shall verify as well. Judgment shall arrive thereafter.”
The fire had been cooled, the water had been dried, the steel had been pulverized, and the soil had been made poor and malnourished.
Only the burnt roots remained.
“Apostle~ Oh, apostle~ cough, cough.”
