Regressor, Possessor, Reincarnator

There were numerous religions inhabiting the world. After the fall of the temples and the ancient empire, fewer people believed in religion. However, just because the devout population had lessened in numbers did not mean that it had altogether disappeared. 

Humans weren’t capable of living alone.

They wanted someone to lean on, and many even dreamed of someone deciding the direction of their life. That ‘someone’ could range from a father or a chief, to a lord or an emperor, but the vast majority of the powerless prayed, instead, for a transcendent figure who didn’t exist in reality.

Even if they knew that their god had fallen.

That was why and how religion flourished.

Perhaps it was because it served as a form of support for a person living a hard life, or simply because being religious came with its own benefits, or maybe it even stemmed from true belief in the faith.

Among the many pagan religions was a faith known as 'Circularism'.

The doctrine of Circularism was quite simple: the world repeated a cycle of birth and destruction, and this was called the ‘Cycle’.

They said that the world had been in a state of perpetual destruction since the Great Fall. The present was the time taking place before the birth of a new world, and in order for a new world to be born, the current world must be completely destroyed.

A part of this rather deranged doctrine was that those who contributed to the destruction would be given the chance to be reborn in the new world. It wasn’t uncommon for those practicing Circularism to be branded as radicals and banished. In fact, it was strictly prohibited, seen as heresy, in most countries.

However, their presence was sometimes tolerated in selected areas because of certain functions and utilities they afforded. Those managing certain conflict zones, for example, condoned their activities because Circulators rejected everything that ‘did not belong in this world’.

Necromancers, demon contractors, demons, the Demon King, foreign invaders… And so on.

They reasoned that foreign entities were not to be present in their newly born world.

What’s more, it was rare that they caused any direct harm to civilians, as Circulators believed that the world should be led to natural destruction rather than artificial destruction. In their eyes, it was more natural for a war to be caused by taking out one powerful person than to kill a dozen or a hundred innocent civilians indiscriminately. Therefore, there was always longstanding strife wherever the various sects following the doctrine went.

‘If they hadn’t attacked the Academy in my last life, they would have still existed intact.’

Shortly after the failed attack on the Academy, the Beast King himself came forward and destroyed their central altar, setting off the chain of events that culminated in their organizational collapse. 

In the end, a woman close to Julius—Aveline, the escaped heretic saintess—absorbed all of their lost power. 

Allen's actions were no different than hers. 

Then what was an apostle?

The role of an apostle may vary by religion, but the role of the apostle in Circularism was to provide one thing alone.

'One who provides direct evidence of the world’s impending doom.’

In other words, one who was able to prove to the world and to the organization that their world was soon to vanish in the near future.

For that same reason, it was decided that Allen could play the position of apostle.

‘The regressor… That really makes me feel like I've become some kind of prophetic apostle.’

Would other apostles appear?

It didn't matter. As long as Allen could fill the position, no one else around him would be chosen as an apostle.

Once he had finished organizing his thoughts on the subject, he heard a voice calling out to him.

"Apostle-elect, we have arrived."

When he came to his senses, a large rock obscured the view ahead.

Their destination was a few hours from the Academy. The desolate, red clay cliffs stood at sharp angles, as if they had been whittled down by the wind for a long time.

The rock face rising above the desert sand served as a landmark within the desert.

"This is it?"

"Yes, apostle-elect."

The day after Allen became Gaillon's disciple, he was able to meet and be guided by another Circulator priest through Loren, the student council’s secretary who had sent the letter last time.

They moved as quickly as they could, as if they had been waiting for Allen to arrive. While they traveled, Allen never asked even the smallest question, as if he had been given orders not to do so, and kept his distance from start to finish.

"Then, please enter when you’re ready. The prophet has been waiting for a few days now."

Rumble, rumble.

A priest named Milan approached the rock first and pressed something on its face. The wall opened with a small vibration, creating a passage in the rock.

‘Is this a secret base for the Circulators…?’

Allen walked forward, his steps dignified and mind calm, showing not even a single outward hint of surprise.

He was a prospective apostle, here to be officially confirmed. Even if the proof of his ethos had nothing to do with his outward appearance, this would surely be better than showing a timid and foolish expression.

As if to corroborate that Allen he belonged among them, Milan, who was guiding him, felt a bud of anticipation sprout and disrupt his usually unshakable attitude, even though Allen had yet to prove his worthiness.

The passage was dark, but so dark that he couldn’t see what lay ahead of him. At its end was no great battle nor even a magnificent mural awaiting.

Instead, there was a modest room—just a small room hewn out of the stone.

Perhaps unable to afford even a wooden door, the boundary between the inside and outside of the room was marked by a thick cloth.

"Please, enter. I shall stay here.”

When Allen pushed past the thick cloth, something he had never imagined welcomed him.

Allen stopped walking and looked back hastily. However, the thick cloth through which he had entered had vanished.

He found himself enveloped in complete darkness, without even a spark of light.

This wasn’t a space he’d expected from a place carved out of rough, stone walls. He turned his head forward again.

"…Where am I?"

There, the yawning abyss devoured him whole.

* * *

The celebration of the Cycle was a secret ceremony within Circularism.

Destruction, circulation, reincarnation.

Wishing for destruction.

Waiting for circulation.

Faith in reincarnation.

The ritual was a minor ceremony among the many festivals, but its spiritual importance was no less than that of the Grand Festival. It could be organized by any one of the prophets, and only high-ranking officials were allowed to be present.

At present, there were no more than five people there officiating and observing Allen's ceremony.

The organizer of this ceremony and the third prophet, 'Burnt Roots’, opened his mouth.

"Cough, cough! Apostle! Proceed!"

He had the distinct green skin of a goblin and a short stature to match.

It was quite a ridiculous sight to see a creature that would have been hunted as a monster outside wearing a luxurious robe, but no one here questioned him.

Next to him was the archbishop, who had been sent to assist the third prophet. “He is asking about the progress of the apostle’s candidacy.”

"Lies! Cough! Oh, my! Cough, cough!”

"If it is false, let them pay for their sins by death. Should they have fulfilled the true qualifications, inform our brothers and sisters.”

The archbishop translated his words calmly without blinking. His eyes glistened behind his monocle.

The third prophet, 'Burnt Roots’, nodded to indicate his translations were correct.

The high priest had been watching the scene and now answered, gauging the ceremony’s progress. "Currently… the prerequisite verification of the apostle-elect who entered the void has concluded.”

"Is it true, or is it false?"

"Fortunately, it is true."

All those present there breathed a sigh of relief at his words.

"Then, now…”

“Now that we know that the definitive destruction of the future is foreordained, we are checking on the details.”

"Look! Me! Cough, cough! Question!"

The archbishop, nodding to his words, questioned the high priest. "He is asking if he will be able to see the apostle-elect."

The high priest looked at the archbishop with a grim face for a moment, then shook his head and activated a device with his hand.

The wall right in front of him turned transparent, revealing Allen to his audience. He sat on the floor with a calm expression, maintaining total composure despite the whole world having gone black.

The eyes of those who observed this scene were bright.

"Now, let us hear what he is most curious about."

As soon as Burnt Roots nodded, a voice whispered through the black space. The sound could have been coming from afar and from within the ear itself at the same time. Upon first hearing it, it sounded simultaneously like a woman, a man, a child, and an elderly man.

"When shall the end of the beginning come about?"

Allen answered slowly with a tranquil expression. "It will be in ten years at the latest."

Again the voice asked, "Can't you tell me exactly when?"

"Depending on a number of variables, it could be tomorrow or a week after that. But it must happen at some point."

The ambassadors who were observing the answer felt a sense of trust.

It wasn’t that they felt distrust. Rather, they wouldn't have believed him if he had told them any exact date. They were relieved to hear his answer, which seemed ambiguous at first glance, but contained a definite substance and confidence.

What they had done to get here hadn’t been in vain.

"By whose hand does this end come about?"

“The Demon King.”

At his words, the high priest gasped. Destroyed not by quarrels amongst themselves, but by a form of foreign invasion?

"And… then a white, black, and gray light will fill the world."

"White, black, and gray…”

Was that some sort of allusion to something? The official who was next to him hastily scribbled down his words.

"Now, I will ask you one last question. What is the greatest variable in this destruction?"

"The greatest variable is…”

Controlling his emotions as they threatened to boil over, Allen spoke clearly and concisely.

“An invader of this world, an evil spirit from outer space, and a demon who controls the world.”

An alien who wore the shell of his younger brother.

"The possessor."

* * *

* * *

The celebration of the Cycle had come to an end.

Allen was able to leave the room following the last question. At some point shortly thereafter, he pushed aside the thick cloth that once again covered the entry to the dark space and found himself in a position no different from when Milan had brought him there.

He bowed as soon as he saw Allen. "I see you now, apostle! The prophet is currently waiting for you, so I will guide you to him immediately."

Allen nodded silently.

Next to the room Allen entered, there was another he hadn’t seen before. He pushed past the thick cloth into the room.

Again, the priest named Milan did not go inside.

Rustle.

When he entered the room and turned to look around, he saw that it was not blanketed with darkness like the first room.

"W-worry. Cough. You!"

When he turned his head, a goblin dressed in an antique, brown robe shouted at him.

Allen bowed his head, not wanting to be rude. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Third Prophet 'Burnt Roots’."

"Cough, cough, cough!"

"He says it's nice to meet you, too."

"And you are…"

Allen looked up, and the young man wearing a monocle bowed gracefully.

"My name is Archbishop Hamel, and I have come to assist the prophet."

"Nice to meet you."

"My role is to convey the words of the prophet, so I hope you don't mind."

Allen nodded at his demeanor as it cut through the atmosphere like a sword.

"Understood."

The third prophet, 'Burnt Roots', waited until they had finished talking before he opened his mouth.

"D-destruction! Foresight! Apostle! Reward! Conversation! Cough."

"The prophet asks if you know anything more about the future you mentioned earlier. Also, he asks if you know of anything else at all.”

Allen calculated for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't know any more than that. If anything new comes up, I'll tell you immediately."

There was no doubt that he knew more than that, but they quickly moved on to the next question.

"Decline! I! Reward! Cough, cough! Circulation!"

"He appreciates that you responded without hesitation, and wishes to reward you. He congratulates your receiving the blessing of the Cycle.”

Allen didn't mind his somewhat grotesque appearance. Or at least, he was not surprised because he had known of the prophet’s appearance from investigating it in advance. The reward, however…

“Burnt Roots, could you possibly heal someone whose roots have been twisted by the evil of foreign forces?”

The reason why Allen tried to contact the Circulators was right in front of him.

"Cough?"

"Of course it's possible… but he asks why you want to know."

The third prophet, ‘Burnt Roots’.

The only goblin in the world to utilize the blood of a fairy, and who realized that the goblins themselves had once been fairies in a distant, now ancient time before becoming fallen creatures.

Thus, his name was the ‘Burnt Roots’.

Charred, twisted, and corrupted from the ground up.

Therefore, he had the ability to return that which was destroyed and perverted to their original state.

"In that case, could you please fix my friend? She was attacked when she was young and was fortunately able to be healed. But in return, her body's constitution was completely ruined."

She was weak even though the blood of the Beast King coursed through her veins. She possessed the blood of both humans and demi-humans, yet was not talented in anything.

That was the condition of Eliana's body.

"Please treat her."

"More!"

"Is that enough?"

"Yes, that's enough."

Allen took a step back with a nod. It wasn't that there was nothing more to be gained there, but he knew it wasn't good to be greedy.

He needed to be careful still, as he had not yet cemented his position within this organization. He needed to wait at least until he completely assimilated.

"Tomorrow! Cough! Door!"

"Then why don't you meet us back at the entrance here tomorrow?"”

"I will do that."

The archbishop showed no personal feelings throughout his conversation with Allen. But seeing his lack of greed, the corners of Hamel's eyes relaxed slightly—a soft sign of satisfaction.

"Well, I’ll be going, then. I’ll see you all again tomorrow.”

They nodded. Allen bowed politely and then walked out of the passageway.

Thump.

The opening within the rock closed. Even if looking closely, the invisible outline of the entrance could barely be seen.

As he returned to the city, Allen was lost in thought.

He thought about what happened in the first room.

‘A room to enforce the concept…’

It wasn't long after Allen entered the room that he felt a force constricting him.

The force did not have any sort of detrimental effect on him, but it was forcing him to abide by certain conditions.

It was only when he tried to conjure lies that he felt its influence strongly.

The moment Allen was about to lie in answer to a question, he felt a force compelling him to stop. However, Allen's immediate feelings at that time weren’t bewilderment nor embarrassment.

'Something more like… I knew that I could get away with it?’

Allen felt that, though he could not completely free himself from the force weighing on him, he could deflect it a good deal.

He didn't know why, but he made the most of it.

He exaggerated the fact that the destruction would take place within ten years, and that the Demon King would destroy the world.

The thing about the world of white, black, and gray was also just a quote from the text in the ruins.

And his last answer—bait to draw the Circulation’s interest to him.

‘The possessor.’

Considering the information he’d hinted at, they wouldn't even care what Allen would be doing for the time being.

They’d be too busy interpreting Allen's vague words. Opinions would be divided on whether to stop the Demon King first or to push forward, furthering their man-made destruction.

Even if the position of the ‘apostle’ in Circularism was a special one, it wasn’t safe to say that there was no danger to it. It was better not to bother too much with it in the beginning stages.

‘Now, little by little, the evidence will be pieced together, and Julius’s identity will become fully known to the Circulation…’

The 'real' plan would soon begin.

Squeak.

Allen adjusted his old stirrups as he went back to the city.

Squeak! Squeak!

His stirrups creaked all the way back.

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