Alicization Invading Page 3

  And the owner of this sword, the flaxen-haired boy who was the black-haired boy’s best friend, was no longer among the living…

  She closed her eye briefly, then took the two swords back to the wheelchair. Once they were laid over his knees, the young man placed his hand on top of them and looked down. The only time he expressed his will with vocalizations or movements at all was when he asked for the black and white blades.

  “Hold them tight, so they don’t fall off,” Alice told him, trying to ignore the throbbing in her chest. The painful memories were as fresh as ever, even after several months. She pushed the wheelchair and its extra weight out through the doorway.

  Instead of stairs, the porch had a thick slab leading to the ground. Down in the garden, the soft breeze was a bit chilly, but the gentle sunlight wrapped around them.

  The log cabin was located right in the middle of a little clearing deep in the woods. Alice had chopped down the trees herself, stripped the bark, and put it together. It wasn’t pretty, but she’d used the highest-quality trees she could find, so it was sturdily made. Old Man Garitta had shown her how to build it from the ground up, and the entire time, he’d remarked about how he’d never seen such a strong girl.

  Apparently, this clearing had been Alice and Eugeo’s secret playground during childhood. Sadly, she could not remember any of it. The Synthesis Ritual that had turned her into an Integrity Knight had robbed her of all memory before that point.

  All she told Garitta and the other villagers was that she had forgotten her past. But the truth was that Alice Synthesis Thirty, the Integrity Knight, was an entirely new personality—an imposter inhabiting the body of Alice Zuberg. She would have given this body back if she could have, but like Eugeo, the real Alice’s memories were gone from this world forever.

  “…All right, let’s go.”

  She set forth, pushing the wheelchair onward to drive away the moment’s recollection.

  The round clearing, about thirty mels in diameter, was covered in a soft undergrowth, but on the east side, underneath a large, jutting branch, there was a thick pile of dead grass. It looked like the nest of some giant creature—which, as a matter of fact, it was—but the owner was not here. She glanced over, wondered where it was off playing now, then headed down the path that split the clearing north to south into the woods.

  After about fifty mels, the path split into east and west branches. To the west was the village named Rulid, but she did not want to visit when she didn’t have a reason. Instead, she turned east, strolling through the radiant pockets of sunlight where they broke the canopy overhead.

  They proceeded through the forest, which, at the end of October, was now transitioning from fall leaves to fallen leaves.

  “Are you cold?” she asked, but he didn’t reply. He wouldn’t say a thing, even if they were in the midst of a raging blizzard. She glanced over his shoulder to make sure the coat was tight around his collar.

  Naturally, a heat element or two would warm him up. But Rulid already had its share of suspicious residents, and she didn’t want to get into the habit of relying on sacred arts around here, lest it lead to rumors.

  After fifteen minutes of travel along the beaten path (adding new wheel ruts along the way), the road ahead began to lighten. The trees steadily gave way to a steep little hill. The path began to incline, but the extra strain didn’t bother Alice.

  Once they reached the top of the hill, the view opened up.

  Just to the east was the blue surface of Lake Rul. On the far side was vast marshland. To the south, endless forest. Looking north, there was nothing but the snowcapped End Mountains, jutting upward to pierce the sky. Her days flying over those peaks on her dragon were nothing but distant memories now.

  She wanted to see beautiful vistas with her own eyes. The bountiful blessings of earth and sun here should be enough to heal the eye that she’d lost at Central Cathedral half a year ago, but Alice was not yet ready to use sacred arts to fix her own shortcomings.

  Because even with this breathtaking view of late autumn before them, the young man with her could only gaze dully into nothingness. She sat next to the wheelchair and leaned on one of the large wheels.

  “It’s beautiful. More beautiful than any painting hanging on the walls of the cathedral,” she said, smiling. “It’s the world you saved, Kirito.”

  A single white waterfowl ran across the surface of the lake, sending up concentric ripples, and took off into flight.

  How long had they sat there?

  The next thing she knew, Solus was high overhead. It was time they got back to the cabin so she could fix lunch. In his current state, Kirito ate only a small amount at a time, so if she missed any of his meals, it would have an effect on his maximum life value.

  “Let’s head back,” she said, getting up and taking the wheelchair handles.

  Just then, she heard the sound of footsteps on the grassy hillside and turned around. A girl in a black monastery robe was approaching. There was a dazzling, sunny smile on her young face as she waved wildly.

  “Sister!” she cried out, her voice traveling on the breeze. Alice broke into a smile herself and raised her hand to wave back.

  The girl raced up the last ten mels, skidded to a halt, and paused to catch her breath before bursting out with “Good morning, Alice!”

  Then she hopped to the side and greeted the wheelchair-bound boy. “Good morning, Kirito!”

  She beamed at him, seemingly unbothered by his lack of response, but the moment her eyes drifted down to the swords resting on his lap, a note of sadness crept over her expression.

  “…Good morning, Eugeo,” she whispered, reaching out to brush the scabbard of the Blue Rose Sword. If an unfamiliar person attempted to do the same thing, Kirito might give the faintest bit of a defensive reaction, but he allowed this to happen without comment.

  With her greetings finished, the girl straightened up again and turned to Alice.

  Conscious of the odd warmth within her now, Alice replied, “Good morning, Selka. I’m surprised you knew we were here.”

  It had taken over a month for her to refer to the girl by name without feeling strange about it.

  Ever since Kirito had told her about the existence of her sister at Central Cathedral half a year ago, Alice had been desperate to meet her. But now that this wish had come true, the more she cared for Selka, the more she had to wonder whether she—not Alice Zuberg, but Alice Synthesis Thirty—was fit to be this girl’s sister.

  If Selka was aware of this inner turmoil, she didn’t let it show through her beaming smile. “I didn’t use sacred arts to search for you. I went to your house, and you weren’t there, and since the weather’s so nice today, I figured you would be here. I left some fresh milk and an apple-and-cheese pie I baked just this morning on your table. You should have them for lunch.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that; I was just wondering what to prepare.”

  “If he has to eat nothing but your food, Kirito’s going to up and leave you at some point!” Selka laughed.

  Alice smiled back at her. “How dare you! I’ll have you know that I can make pancakes without burning them now.”

  “Do I dare believe you? The first time, you tried using heat elements on them and turned them into charcoal!”

  Alice tried to flick her forehead with a finger, but Selka dodged and went right in for an embrace. She pressed her face against Alice’s chest, and Alice circled her arms around her sister’s back.

  It was for this moment alone that Alice wished she could be free from the pressure that weighed on her heart.

  How much easier life would be if she could forget the guilt of abandoning her duty as an Integrity Knight to live in this quiet cabin in the remote forest. But Alice knew that she would never be able to forget it. Even as she embraced her sister here, the end was approaching from beyond the mountains—the tick of each passing second bringing it ever closer.

  At the end of the ferocious battle at
the Axiom Church’s Central Cathedral half a year ago, Alice had fallen to the marble floor, suffering wounds severe enough to kill her and only vaguely aware of what happened in the fight.

  A duel to the death between Administrator, pontifex of the church, and Kirito, who was wielding two swords at once.

  Administrator, incinerated by the flames of Prime Senator Chudelkin’s obsession.

  Kirito witnessing Eugeo’s passing, then screaming into a crystalline board that appeared at the north end of the chamber. At the end of an exchange that Alice did not understand, Kirito’s body suddenly stiffened, and he fell to the floor—leaving the rest of the world in silence.

  By the time Alice had recovered just enough life to move again, Solus’s first rays of morning were shining from the east window. With that light as her source of sacred power, Alice was able to heal Kirito’s wounds. But he did not regain consciousness, and she was forced to leave him there and use healing arts on herself next before she examined the crystal board at last.

  But the glowing purple surface was now dark, and no amount of touching or commanding would provoke any response from it.

  At a loss, Alice sat.

  She had taken Kirito’s word and fought against the absolute tyrant Administrator for the sake of the people and her distant sister, but deep down, she hadn’t actually expected to survive.

  When the horrific soldier that Administrator called a Sword Golem ran her through—

  When she used her body as a shield against the devastating thunderbolt—

  When she flung herself in front of the sword that attempted to end Kirito’s life—

  Alice had been ready for death at several moments throughout the fight. But through the sacrifices of the little sage Cardinal, the peculiar spider named Charlotte, and Eugeo, as well as Kirito’s awe-inspiring tenacity, she had survived.

  You saved my life! Now accept the responsibility for your actions! she had screamed at the black-haired youth lying on the ground beside her. But he never opened his eyes. It was as though he were telling her, Now you have to think for yourself and choose your own path.

  After many minutes of cradling her knees, Alice finally got to her feet.

  With the disappearance of the room’s master, the levitating disc was just as powerless as the crystal panel, so she had to destroy it with her sword. Then she put Kirito over her back and jumped down to the ninety-ninth floor.

  From there, she descended the long staircase, past the senators—who were still mindlessly chanting their sacred arts—to the grand stairs of the cathedral and headed straight for her sword master, Bercouli Synthesis One, whom she’d left in the great bath.

  The bathwater that Eugeo’s Perfect Weapon Control art had frozen was almost completely melted now, so Bercouli was floating, splayed out in the water. Fortunately, Chudelkin’s petrification art had been undone.

  She heaved his large body onto the walkway and smacked his cheeks, calling out, “Uncle!” and the knight gave one huge sneeze before opening his eyes.

  He greeted her lazily, asking whether it was morning already, and Alice tried to explain everything that had happened. When all was said and done, Bercouli looked stern and alert, but in a comforting voice, he said, “You did well, Little Miss.”

  From there, the commander of the knights moved quickly. Starting with Vice Commander Fanatio, who was unharmed in the rose garden despite her defeat to Kirito and Eugeo, he gathered up the other Integrity Knights who’d been petrified in punishment, such as Deusolbert and Eldrie, then took them to the Great Hall of Ghostly Light on the fiftieth floor and told them all he could of the truth.

  That after a battle with two disciples from North Centoria Imperial Swordcraft Academy, Administrator had been defeated and eradicated.

  That the pontifex had been working on a terrifying plan to transform most of the citizens of the realm into monstrous weapons with swords for bones.

  That the senate, the body that controlled the knighthood, was essentially composed of just one man, Prime Senator Chudelkin, who had perished along with the pontifex.

  The only thing that wasn’t explained was the truth of the Integrity Knights—of how they were “produced.” Bercouli had been skeptical of Administrator’s tale that they were summoned from the celestial realm, so he was able to withstand the shock of the truth, but he determined that more time and care would need to be taken to reveal this to the other knights.

  Even then, Eldrie, Fanatio, and the others were absolutely stunned. It was impossible to blame them. The absolute ruler for centuries, who exhibited godlike powers, was suddenly gone, just like that? It was not an easy thing to accept.

  At the end of a fierce, chaotic debate, the knights decided to follow the commander’s orders for the moment. Perhaps much of that was due to the presence of not just Bercouli’s charisma and leadership, but the continued function of their Piety Modules. Despite the changing situation, they were still knights who served the Axiom Church, and now that Administrator and Chudelkin were gone, Commander Bercouli was undoubtedly the highest-ranking member of the church remaining.

  The moment Bercouli was entrusted with leading, his mind began working toward his original duty of protecting the human realm. He, too, would have had his own doubts, naturally. He had just learned that stolen memories of his beloved had been close at hand for all those years.

  Yet, he decided to firmly seal off the hundredth floor with its thirty swords for the Sword Golem and the hundreds of memory crystals inside and to hide everything from the knighthood except for the death of their sovereign. He prioritized the mission to prepare for the coming invasion from the Dark Territory over recovering the memories of all the Integrity Knights, himself included.

  Bercouli started rebuilding the broken knighthood, as well as reforming and retraining the Imperial Knights of the four empires, which had had armies in name alone. Alice helped him with this, of course. With Kirito’s impromptu eye patch tied around her head, she whizzed north and south all over Centoria.

  But she could not remain at the cathedral forever. Among the other Integrity Knights and the church’s rank and file that were unaware of the pontifex’s death, there was a growing demand that the traitor who’d rebelled against the Axiom Church—the still-comatose Kirito—be put to death for his crimes.

  One morning, after her work was done for the time being, Alice took Kirito onto a dragon with her and left the city. It was two weeks after the bloodshed of that fearsome battle.

  But that was only the beginning of her labor. While they camped out, an experience she was unfamiliar with, Kirito remained unconscious. She knew he needed a good set of walls and a roof over his head, not to mention a nice warm bed, but she didn’t have enough money for them to stay at an inn, and she was unable to bring herself to make use of her Integrity Knight status for personal gain.

  That was when she remembered the name of Rulid, a place Kirito had mentioned while they were stuck on the outside wall of the tower.

  Even if her memories were gone, surely the people who lived in Alice and Eugeo’s hometown would welcome them, or so she hoped. And thus, she guided the reins of the dragon north. She flew only a bit at a time to minimize the strain on Kirito’s body, so the trip across Norlangarth to the village at the foothills of the End Mountains took three whole days.

  She landed in the forest a distance away from the village so as not to startle the inhabitants, then commanded the dragon to watch her cargo and carried Kirito toward Rulid on foot.

  Along the way from the forest down the footpath through the fields, she met a number of villagers. They were all shocked and wary, and none of them called out to her.

  The moment she arrived at Rulid, which was built on a little plateau, and passed through its wooden gate, a large young man leaped out of the nearby guard station. His freckled face was flushed as he blocked her way.

  “Stop! Outsiders are not allowed in the village!” the young man-at-arms bellowed, making a menacing show of pla
cing his hand on his sword. Then he noticed Kirito’s face, slung over Alice’s shoulder, and he stopped in his tracks, suspicious. He started mumbling something to himself before he then got a better look at Alice, and this time his eyes bulged.

  “You…you! It can’t be…!”

  This reaction actually came as a relief to Alice. After eight years, this man-at-arms seemed to still remember her. Choosing her words carefully, she replied, “I am Alice. Please call the elder, Gasfut Zuberg.”

  Perhaps she should have called herself Alice Zuberg, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her first name alone seemed to suffice, however. His face instantly went from red to blue, his mouth flapped wordlessly, and he dashed off into the village. He didn’t tell her to wait there, so she went through the gate and walked in after the guard.

  Pretty soon, the village was buzzing like a beehive that had been disturbed. Dozens of villagers crowded the sides of the path, exclaiming with shock as soon as they saw Alice in the afternoon sunlight.

  But none of them appeared to be rejoicing in the return of one of their own. If anything, they were suspicious of the woman in her metal armor and the young man sleeping on her back—even fearful.

  The gentle slope eventually met a round open space at the center of the village. There was a fountain and well in the center, and at the north end, a small church with a circled cross on its roof. Alice came to a stop at the start of this clearing as the villagers looked on and whispered in fear from a safe distance.

  Minutes later, the crowd parted from the east, and a man strode forward with firm intent. He was of advanced age, with a cleanly kept gray beard, and it was clear to her at once that this was the village elder of Rulid, Alice’s one-time father, Gasfut Zuberg.

  Gasfut came to a stop a short distance away and examined both Alice and Kirito without expression.