Miss Hebe Is Charging Through the Lostbelts! [14]

The Special Patrol Bureau divides an apprentice’s loss of control into two stages: Drift and Distortion.

The former can still be treated or soothed by certain means. The latter is a permanent alteration of both flesh and spirit-body, irreversible just like a Mark.

Ordinarily, the transition from Drift to Distortion takes time.

But Andoain’s slide into Distortion had happened too quickly. There had not even been time to try to calm him.

When Distortion comes on that fast, there is usually only one explanation—he has either gazed directly upon a higher being far beyond his own level, or been influenced by one.

Andoain had cast aside his faith in the Holy Grail, yet he had suffered no divine sanction from the Holy Grail, nor even from the Principle itself…

If anything, he was still steadily advancing.

To rise from Dawn to Daylight, one must carry out deeds that accord with one’s own desire, just as the Knights of the Round Table once expanded the realm and waged war under Arthur.

That was also why the Daylight level was known as the “Hero” Rank.

And yet, whether the Special Patrol Bureau or the Orthodox Church, neither would lightly give its subordinates a chance to advance.

Andoain had already waited nearly ten years for that chance.

Lemuen suddenly let out a bitter laugh. “Andoain… has advanced to [Daylight].”

Mostima felt a chill run through her as she stared at Andoain, ringed by black crows. Behind that tattered priest’s robe, she saw a vague halo slowly rising.

That was the boon brought by Distortion. It meant Andoain had already accomplished his First Mark.

And the winglike distortion swelling behind his back would bring about his Second Mark.

Now, in an age without Dusk, this was the pinnacle of the present world.

What kind of being was this new god Andoain served—and why was It so lavish in granting power?!

“Even the Holy Grail and Skyflint have things they bitterly regret,” Andoain said calmly. “Lemuen, Mostima—I know the two of you carry dissatisfaction in your hearts as well. And the new god I serve has promised me that when It is born, everything will be all right, and everything will be set in order.”

“My sisters, I sincerely invite you to come and sit at my table.”

Mostima’s first instinct was to look at Lemuen.

Pain and struggle had appeared on that gentle, soft-featured face.

Andoain waited quietly for her answer.

And Mostima, meanwhile, began calling out in her heart to that same higher being that had also descended upon her.

“Are you still there?”

‘I am.’

That grand, distant voice answered her so.

“If I want to ask for your help, what would I have to offer?”

Mostima had already given up all hope that the Knight of the Round Table could do anything. And against Andoain, who had advanced to Daylight, apprentices like them—still at Dawn, without even a single Mark accomplished—had no power to resist.

If this were the real world, they could at least have brought heavy firepower to bear.

But this was a Frontier.

In a situation like this, the only thing Mostima could do was save herself.

‘Your faith.’

That vast, detached voice sounded by her ear.

“I don’t know what I could possibly have that would draw your notice,” Mostima said, taking a deep breath. “But if you truly can save me from this dead end…”

“I offer myself to You. I offer You my thoughts, my words, and my spirit. I ask You to grant me peace and joy. I ask You to make my eyes clear and my heart bright. I ask You to grant me Your protection.”

“—That I may walk behind You in the light of life.”

In thoughts close to despair, she heard that grand voice ring out like a bell.

‘As you wish.’

…

The old card in the slot crumbled into ash, yet the ash turned into a new card.

[BELIEVER “MOSTIMA”]

[PATH]:
CLOCKMAKER.
FOR A CLOCKMAKER, TIME NO LONGER CLICKS SHUT LINK BY LINK.

[PRINCIPLE]:
OPENING.
THE PRINCIPLE THAT SIGNIFIES REVELATION, OPENING WIDE, AND GATES.

[RANK]:
DAWN.
THE FIRST LEVEL ON THE ROAD OF GREAT DEEDS.

[IN THE CRACKS BETWEEN HISTORIES, MOSTIMA GLIMPSED LOCK AND KEY.]
[TIME MUST SURELY HOLD A PECULIAR MAGIC FOR HER.]

[YOUR BELIEVER, YOUR STUDENT, YOUR FOLLOWER, YOUR POSSESSION.]

With sparse, abstract strokes, the card nonetheless vividly sketched Mostima’s smiling face against a deep purple background. Behind her, two staffs shaped like lock and key formed the hands of a clock.

Hebe clicked on that card and dropped it into the newly appeared slot.

…

“I—I refuse!”

Lemuen answered in pain, but without hesitation.

Andoain’s long brows trembled. “Why? I know the pain in your heart is no less than mine. Don’t you want your sister to wake from her sickbed?”

“I do want that. Perhaps one day, I’ll regret this!” Lemuen said, trembling as she leveled her custom firearm at Andoain. “But what I’m about to do matters far more than my future. My sister—and the tens of thousands of people like her—live in this world. I will protect this world!”

Lemuen’s fingers had gone white from the force with which she gripped the weapon. She was almost screaming with every bit of strength in her body.

“Andoain! Keep that promise for yourself!”

The muzzle spat fierce flame, and a nickel-iron bullet consecrated nine times shot straight at Andoain’s heart.

Thud—!

The bullet passed through the torn priest’s robe and blew a huge hole through Andoain’s chest.

He showed no sign of pain at all. He merely nodded in calm acknowledgment.

“I see. So that is your answer. I respect you, Lemuen.”

Even as he spoke, Lemuen kept firing. The barrage of consecrated bullets reduced Andoain’s face to a charred honeycomb, until at last the firearm in her hands finally fell silent.

The birds in the sky rushed toward that torn priest’s robe, and newborn flesh filled Andoain’s body once more.

“If that is so, then we are enemies,” Andoain said with deep regret. “For the safety of my god, I cannot let you leave this place alive.”

Lemuen stared in despair at the birds dropping from the sky like a storm.

She had lost every means of resistance. Mostima was the same. Against Andoain, now at Daylight, they had no way to inflict any harm.

And yet in the very next moment, Mostima—who had stood frozen this whole time—suddenly stepped forward, moved past Lemuen, and faced the birds diving down like torrential rain.

She raised a hand and snapped her fingers sharply.

An invisible wave rippled out from her body, as though an unseen umbrella were slowly opening above her head.

The range this wave covered was not particularly large, but anything that crossed its boundary fell into tenfold, twentyfold delay.

The birds that had originally been as swift as hard rain slowed dramatically in an instant.

Their bodies slammed into one another, piling up in the sky of the Frontier into a hideous sphere.

A halo like lock and key lit above Mostima’s head.

[FIRST MARK]: SUBJECTIVE TIME DILATION

“At a time like this, she accomplishes a Mark?!” Andoain almost wanted to laugh.

Something that ought to belong only on a stage was unfolding right in front of him.

Mostima—what gave her the right to accomplish a Mark so easily?

How much practice had she gone through?

How much did she truly understand her own desire?

Did she genuinely believe, without wavering, in the Path she had taken?!

How cruel heaven truly was to him—and how absurdly favored Mostima was by comparison!

In that moment, Andoain finally understood that “cruel truth”: so-called talent really did exist, and it was this unreasonable.

But that did not matter.

The new god he served was fair and generous.

Those who desired power would have power. Those who desired talent would be granted talent!

—So, for the sake of bringing about the world my lord has promised, I will spare no sacrifice and choose no means!

The halo above Andoain’s head blazed bright.

[FIRST MARK]: LIGHT UNTO SUFFERERS.

A clear, bright light spread over the birds. When the transparent wave swept across them, some of them were “exempt” from the delaying effect.

Their speed dropped as well, but they were still far faster than the rest.

Andoain had already seen through Mostima’s Mark completely. Aside from the area-wide slowing effect, it had no other function.

If enough birds fell like torrential rain, then even if only a fraction of them could ignore the delay, it would still be a devastating blow to Mostima and Lemuen.

“But it’s enough—”

Within the transparent wave, Hebe—controlling Mostima’s body—reached out with both hands, one to either side.

In this state of “descent,” Hebe could not bring very much with her. Something like the Pseudo-Holy Sword, the Sword in the Stone, simply could not be carried over at all, and even Illusion Arts could not be used as easily as moving her own limbs.

But what limited Illusion Arts was not scale.

It was imagination.

…

Hebe had observed the Sword in the Stone up close countless times. Though she had never truly held that sword, when she closed her eyes, she could still imagine every detail of that radiant, brilliant blade.

The moment she conceived of that sword, her fingers touched heavy, cold metal.

The sword was there.

So who was to wield it?

A sensation sealed away in memory suddenly came surging up like water. It was as if someone from that faraway place had answered of their own accord. The fingers groping through mist brushed against searing warmth.

And there came a faint call, almost too soft to hear.

“Merlin…”

Sitting in her secondhand shop, Hebe nearly jumped out of her chair.

She immediately broke off the descent and swiftly logged out of Secret Histories Simulator.

…

By the time Mostima regained control of her own body, she saw that fine, cold scales had already grown over both her hands.

Mist flecked with candlelight rose out of nowhere all around her. A pair of metal boots stepped out of the fog and onto the ground before her, while the ornate longsword stabbed into the earth lit up inch by inch, brilliant and resplendent.

That was the last thing Mostima saw in the Frontier.

Then the world spun.

When she came back to herself, she and Lemuen were already sitting collapsed on mottled grass. Fiammetta rushed over and embraced them both tightly, tears shining in her eyes.

Then came the sound of heavy footsteps.

Bedivere of the Round Table was already standing before them.

His face was almost feminine in its beauty, but his eyes burned like flame. And yet his most striking feature was still the entire arm from his right shoulder down.

It was neither flesh nor armored plating, but pure metal.

“Miss Mostima, I hope you will later be able to provide a reasonable explanation.”

“—Concerning what you encountered in the Frontier.”

He raised that silver arm in a forbidding gesture.

“Please understand. The ones who will be questioning you shortly are not the Special Patrol Bureau, nor the Archaeological Society, nor even we of the Round Table…”

“But Her Majesty Arthur, the Eternal King who reigns over all Albion.”

T/N: oooooooooooh

This is a fan translation of 赫柏小姐正在杀出异闻带！ by 青散人 Rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!