The only follower that Bertus brought back with him when he returned to the Imperial Capital was Saviolin Turner.
There was no point in having too many people who knew about Ellen's condition.
Dettomorian's quarters were not in a dormitory, but rather in a club building.
The Occult Research Club.
Dettomorian was the sole member and president of the club, created for the self-study of shamanism.
Initially, Bertus had nothing to say about it, and it was true that Ellen was not particularly close to Dettomorian either. As such, she had only just heard about the Occult Research Club that Dettomorian had created.
Naturally, it wasn't possible for a club to function properly at this point in time.
Thus, there could be no club activities at a time when the temple was nearly empty, and the area where club buildings were concentrated was even colder than other parts of the temple.
Bertus felt a sense of emptiness as soon as he arrived in that area of the temple with Ellen and Turner.
"..."
Was this the right choice?
Was it really right to find a possibility in such a situation?
Although they failed to secure the cooperation of the Five Great Religions, the Demon King's forces, undoubtedly accompanied by Olivia Lanze, could not find the answer with their divine power.
The renowned Archmages of the continent had not found the answer either.
But just one student.
Was it right to bring Ellen here because this student uses shamanism, a power of unknown origin?
Facing the desolate landscape of the club building area, Bertus suddenly realized how absurd his expectations were.
But they had already come this far.
If it was impossible to find a solution, confirming its impossibility would still hold meaning.
"Let's go."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Turner followed Bertus, supporting Ellen who occasionally staggered and couldn't maintain her balance properly.
"......isn't here?"
Inside the Occult Research Club.
Bertus frowned as he looked at the empty clubroom.
It was dark inside, as the blackout curtains had been drawn even though it was broad daylight. However, Dettomorian was nowhere to be found.
"And why is it so dark?"
Bertus was about to approach the curtains to inspect the clubroom.
"Don't touch it."
Ellen stopped Bertus's attempt to approach the curtains.
"Don't touch it recklessly... I don't think it's a good idea."
"......Understood."
Although it was difficult to see in the darkness, the interior of the Occult Research Club contained bizarre idols scattered around, just as Mustlang had reported.
They couldn't tell if these objects were simply placed there or intentionally installed. However, Ellen thought that nothing in this room should be touched carelessly.
No one present knew much about shamanism, but whatever it was, it wouldn't be good to touch it without caution.
"What are these... What on earth are they?"
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Bertus couldn't help but be taken aback by the strange sculptures, extinguished candles, eerie shamanism circles, and countless unidentifiable traces of research within the clubroom.
If he wasn't a student of the temple, this scene alone would have been enough to have him arrested for studying sinister dark magic long ago.
"But where is he?"
Dettomorian was said to visit the club building daily, but he was not in the clubroom.
Had he gone out for a late lunch?
"The basement."
Ellen whispered softly.
"I think he's in the basement."
"...?"
Bertus and Turner couldn't help but be puzzled by Ellen
Upon hearing Ellen's words, Turner and Bertus couldn't help but feel perplexed.
However, Ellen seemed to sense something, speaking with unfocused eyes.
The upper floors of the club building appeared unused, as did the basement.
The basement was often used as a storage space for club equipment.
Led by Ellen's strange conviction, the three descended to the basement of the club building.
-Thunk! Thunk!
"It's locked."
The large door leading to the basement was locked shut.
"…It seems to be locked from the inside."
The fact that they couldn't enter even though the lock was on the outside meant it was locked from the inside.
"It looks like he sealed it off…"
Since the building was unused, it was possible that the door to the basement had been locked shut.
However, Bertus felt an odd sensation.
"Let's go in and see."
With a single swipe of her aura blade, which sprouted from her index finger, Turner easily unlocked the door.
Upon arriving at the basement's first floor, Bertus couldn't help but frown when he saw the state of the basement, regardless of the basis for Ellen's strange conviction.
"What on earth is this?"
As soon as they entered the basement, Bertus and Turner couldn't help but feel a chill run down their necks when they saw the strange symbols drawn on the walls and ceiling.
As if the entire space had been turned into a magical circle, odd symbols and lines were chaotically drawn on the walls and ceiling.
"There is… something here."
Just as Ellen had said, they couldn't determine a specific function, but it was clear that the basement was involved in some sort of shamanism, and that Dettomorian had locked the door from the inside while doing something.
Worried about any possible side effects, Bertus, Turner, and Ellen were careful not to step on or touch the magic circles as they continued deeper into the basement.
The basement was designed to have two floors.
Both the first and second floors were covered in unidentifiable magic circles and symbols.
Bertus let out a somber sigh as he looked at them.
"This wasn't done overnight…"
"It seems so…"
The club building had been unused for quite some time. It was almost certain that Dettomorian had locked the basement of the club building and spent a very long time drawing and setting up these magic circles, even before the large-scale military organization moved.
Despite not knowing what the magic circles meant, Bertus felt a shiver down his spine just from hearing ominous words.
The three of them soon found Dettomorian.
In the innermost part of the second-floor basement, there was a large storage room.
In the dimly lit basement, they could see numerous lit candles beyond the open door of the large storage room.
There were about a hundred large candles haphazardly placed throughout the room, with melted candle wax flowing onto the floor.
In the center of those many candles, Dettomorian sat quietly.
Amidst the light of the candles, Bertus could see the bone-made idol and numerous blood-drawn magic circles.
As if he knew about the visitors, Dettomorian slowly raised his head to look at the three standing in the hallway.
"What are…"
Bertus stared at Dettomorian, who sat quietly as if at the epicenter of a blasphemous ritual.
"What are you doing here…?"
It was frightening if there was no meaning to this, and if there was a meaning, it was clear that it wouldn't be anything good given the size of the magic circles.
With furrowed brows, Bertus shouted.
"What are you doing?"
The boy with the ever-dark complexion.
Dettomorian.
He watches them from the faint candlelight.
In the midst of the growing eeriness, Bertus asks the young shaman sitting among the candles.
"Prayer."
Dettomorian replies.
"I'm praying for 'peace'."
In a place that seems to have nothing to do with peace.
Dettomorian says he is praying for peace.
The explanation for Dettomorian's sinister ritual was simple.
Praying for peace.
Still ominous and suspicious, but Bertus knows nothing about shamanism.
So he doesn't know what function this eerie ritual actually has.
Therefore, he can neither punish nor interrogate.
He can't determine whether Dettomorian is lying or telling the truth.
"You can come in..."
Dettomorian speaks to Bertus, hesitating outside the storage room.
Passing between the candles, Turner, Ellen, and Bertus approached Dettomorian.
The ritual circle, drawn as if with blood, filled the storage room.
Could peace be prayed for with something like this?
Could it really work?
Bertus doesn't know.
"What is... prayer, anyway?"
"I don't know."
"…Huh?"
Bertus is dumbfounded by the absurdity.
"I also... don't know."
Dettomorian was staring at the dwindling candles.
"I'm just... doing what I can."
"…"
"I can't fight. This is the only thing I know how to do..."
Dettomorian looks up at Bertus with a sullen complexion.
"So, that's why I'm doing this."
The shaman himself doesn't even know what the ritual is for.
"It's just... praying, in the end, right?"
"That's right…"
Countless powerless people pray to the heavens, projecting hope onto the heroes.
It might be a meaningless ritual, merely an act of faith.
"Do you really think... this will be effective?"
Bertus looks around the storage room, then back at Dettomorian in disbelief.
"It might not be…"
Dettomorian places a half-melted, large candle on his palm.
"But… it might be."
Dettomorian stares intently at the dwindling candlelight.
Bertus feels suffocated watching Dettomorian's slow actions.
In the end, it might be a meaningless endeavor.
"You... how long have you been doing this?"
"Continuously…"
Muttering incomprehensible words.
Praying, bowing, and dancing in front of strange idols.
No matter where or what he's doing, Dettomorian continuously prays for peace.
Since the Gate Incident, for a very long time.
Dettomorian, who doesn't know how to fight, has been continuously offering prayers to an unknown power.
Continuously since the Gate Incident.
For over two years.
How is this any different from ordinary people's prayers, besides the scale?
From Dettomorian's words, Bertus couldn't tell whether he should feel emptiness or greatness in the fact that he continued to pray because it was the only thing he could do.
It might not be effective, but it might be.
However, Bertus focuses on Dettomorian's words.
Not revenge or destruction, but peace.
The words of Dettomorian, who claimed to pray for peace, are etched into his mind.
Dettomorian's personal information has already been received from Mustlang.
Originally from a primitive tribe in the North.
In a world filled with monsters in the fields and plains, the likelihood of Dettomorian's homeland still existing was slim.
Dettomorian, ignorant of the truth, ought to wish for the Demon King's death as an act of revenge.
However, instead of revenge, Dettomorian wished for peace.
"So... if your wish succeeds, let's say it has meaning. Then, in what way will peace... come about?"
At Bertus's question, Dettomorian shook his head.
"I don't know."
Dettomorian set down the candle he had been holding.
"If peace isn't achieved... my wish would have failed..."
"..."
"If peace is achieved... my wish would have succeeded..."
It was a consequentialist way of thinking.
"Of course, regardless of the success or failure of my wish... peace might come anyway..."
With a nod that seemed to imply he already knew it wasn't a foolproof argument, Dettomorian continued.
"So... it's simply good in and of itself..."
He added that he continued to wish for peace.
"Adding the possibility of hope... can't be a bad thing..."
Dettomorian's wish might fail, or it might succeed.
Or it might have had no meaning at all.
But in the end, if there was even the slightest possibility in that wish, there was no reason not to try.
So he continued to wish for peace.
In the basement of an abandoned building, which people no longer sought.
He set up strange symbols and magic circles, idols, and continued the endless ritual, praying fervently.
Looking at Dettomorian, Bertus felt an inexplicable awe.
Just as Bertus couldn't decipher the meaning of the magic circle, he couldn't know the value of this ritual that Dettomorian performed.
But he felt certain that it was not something to be disregarded.
"So... why did you come here...?"
Only then did Bertus realize that Dettomorian was speaking to him, the emperor, as if it were a normal conversation.
Although Ellen's case was exceptional, the other students could no longer consider Bertus as a friend.
However, Dettomorian showed no particular reverence or fear towards Bertus, the emperor.
This shaman acted and moved according to his own principles and values.
According to those values and principles, he prayed for peace.
"There's something you need to help me with."
Bertus still couldn't believe in the power of shamanism.
However, he decided that he could trust Dettomorian.
Bertus spoke about Ellen's condition.
Numerous spirits had taken residence in Ellen's body, and her sense of self might vanish.
A way to remove or eliminate such spirits. Or a way to prevent Ellen from disappearing.
"..."
Dettomorian looked at Ellen, who was sitting in front of him.
Ellen was desperately trying to maintain her consciousness by focusing her eyes. However, her eyesight blurred and sharpened repeatedly, as if it were difficult for her.
As if she was breaking down in real-time.
Dettomorian examined Ellen's complexion.
The hero, Ellen Artorius.
During the time when the temple functioned properly, the two had no opportunity to speak properly.
Just as Ellen was a stranger to Dettomorian, he was also a stranger to her.
What is peace?
Dettomorian tried to achieve that peace through his wishes, but he wasn't actually bearing it.
However, Ellen had been carrying a significant portion of the weight of that peace.
"I don't have the ability to handle 'something like this'."
Dettomorian reached a disheartening conclusion as he examined Ellen's condition.
There was no solution.
Due to the stories they heard along the way, despair was evident on the faces of Bertus and Saviolin Turner.
Dettomorian rose from his seat and walked somewhere.
Rummaging through a leather backpack, he retrieved a small bone-like fragment.
Dettomorian brought a carving knife and slowly began to grind away at the bone fragment.
Chipping, polishing, and grinding.
For several hours, Dettomorian carved a symbol into the bone.
Bertus, Turner, and Ellen watched Dettomorian's actions for a long time.
Finally, having ground and carved the symbol into the bone fragment, Dettomorian punched a hole in it and attached a leather strap.
He handed Ellen the crudely shaped necklace.
It was a symbol of the moon drawn within the sun.
Though he could not touch such a thing himself, Dettomorian created something for Ellen.
It was merely a small symbol crafted without any grand ceremony.
"Can this... protect me...?" Ellen asked, staring blankly at the necklace lying in her palm.
"Anyone can make a prayer," Dettomorian replied.
While he had prayed through a massive magic circle, in reality, prayer was possible for anyone.
Setting aside whether it would come true or not.
"Just as I pray for peace..."
Like how Dettomorian prayed for peace, even though he lacked the power to change the world, he still wished and prayed for a chance.
"You, too, can pray... for yourself not to disappear."
Ellen could pray for herself not to vanish.
In a world where believing in something means someone will lend you strength, Ellen had been chosen by the gods of the moon and sun.
Hoping for protection from a greater power than her own, not just from a shaman.
Dettomorian carved a symbol of a being that could lend Ellen strength and handed it to her.
"I pray that this will become a guidepost for your soul..."
He also promised to pray for Ellen.
'May the sun and moon protect you.'
Ellen recalled something her mother had once told her.
The sun and the moon.
She carefully held the symbol carved from a bone-like substance.
"Thank you..."
Ellen put the amulet that the shaman gave her around her neck.
After receiving the amulet from Dettomorian, Bertus, Ellen, and Saviolin Turner left the temple.
Ellen and Turner had to return to the garrison.
And Bertus still had inspections to complete, so he planned to stay at the garrison for a few more days.
"Will it... work?"
In the predicament of not knowing whether shamanism really worked or not, they may have wasted their time.
They didn't know what kind of power Dettomorian truly possessed.
Whether he even had any power at all, they didn't know.
Magic proves its existence through its manifestation.
Divine power proves its existence by summoning the power of the gods.
But the three of them had not seen the essence of shamanism.
They didn't know whether it truly functioned or not. If praying for peace brought peace, then why was there a need for anything else?
Wasn't it just relying on an illusion in the face of an overwhelmingly difficult and desperate situation?
The fact that an emperor, a knight known as the empire's greatest sword, and a warrior hailed as humanity's hope all sought solace in the uncertainty of shamanism was utterly horrifying.
Bertus felt a sense of self-loathing as soon as he left the temple, wondering what he had done. He had been drawn to Dettomorian, engaged in conversation, and received an amulet, but it seemed unlikely that such a thing could protect Ellen.
He couldn't help but think this way, and he felt incredibly sorry for bringing Ellen away from the battlefield and to the temple in the first place.
"It might not have any effect," he admitted.
However, Ellen, with the thin symbol hanging around her neck, walked quietly.
"But it might," she countered.
Dettomorian had prayed for peace, knowing that it might not come, but hoping that it might.
The mere amulet might or might not be able to protect Ellen.
But since it might, she insisted, "I don't think having something like this can be harmful."
Because there might be even the slightest possibility.
Just as Dettomorian had said, Ellen would believe in it.
If she used it as a guidepost for her soul, if she believed in it, she could avoid disappearing.
If simply believing could prevent her from falling apart, then the amulet's effect was as good as real.
Ellen believed.
And so, she certainly felt that her clouded consciousness had cleared, if only a little.
