"Is that so? Well, I suppose that works too."
Having brought out Aelteluchi, Avia gave a small nod toward Kischur, who wore his usual amused smile within the now-quiet Millennium City.
Despite being suddenly declared by Kischur as the new head of the Mage's Association's Department of Mineralogy, Avia felt little resistance to the appointment.
In the end, it was merely a title. At most, the El-Melloi family line would end up recording in their history that the Department had once been headed by an outsider, not of their own blood.
And since this was still only the fifth century, the genius magus Bathmelo—the one who would lay the groundwork for the aristocratic ranks of the Lords—had yet to be born. The Mage's Association was already regarded as the "beacon of hope" for magi suppressed beneath the Church's dominance, but it had not yet become known as the Clock Tower. Nor was the title of Lord applied to department heads outside the three great noble families.
That minor matter aside, what Avia paid the most attention to was the ancient cuneiform tablet—The R'lyeh Scroll.
Even if the jeweled old man claimed that only Beelzebub's aura lingered upon it and not Cthulhu's, Avia could not afford to take it lightly. Those outer gods were no opponents to underestimate.
"By the way, Kischur—back during the great battle of Millennium City, among the magi under your command, was there ever a man named François Prelati?"
The silver-haired youth asked, as if recalling something.
For in the Nasuverse, the only figure tied both to Beelzebub and Cthulhu was the being born from the mad Greek deity Atë—yet distinct from her—a separate entity: François Prelati. He had hidden himself in the shadows during the Hundred Years' War, orchestrated Jeanne d'Arc's condemnation to the flames, and dragged his so-called "friend" Gilles de Rais into damnation.
"Although it was more than a century ago, this old man's memory is still rather sharp." The jeweled old man chuckled as he tapped his cane. "...No, there was never anyone named François. The only Prelati I recall was a woman called Francesca, a magus skilled in illusion. But she died back then."
Avia, however, knew the truth. Whether François or Francesca, both were fundamentally tied to Atë. Beelzebub and Cthulhu could be considered late additions—forces that latched onto her at some unknown point.
Avia also remembered that Francesca's teacher was one of the countless aspects of the Lady of the Lake. Later, having glimpsed a half-Nightmare who opposed that Lady's most brilliant self, Francesca became obsessed with illusions born of Nightmare's concept. But since the half-Nightmare deemed her incapable of human emotions, she was left unchecked.
Yet the timeline didn't add up—Merlin had only just been born and hadn't yet entered the Arthurian age. Which meant Francesca could not possibly have learned illusions from him.
So how was it that a being who should have been merely an Atë-spawned "human form" possessed such powerful illusion arts centuries early, and even fought in the great battle of 300 AD? And why did this tome—clearly meant for summoning Cthulhu—reek instead of Beelzebub?
Avia had a theory.
Perhaps, for some unknown reason, when Atë shed one of her fragments into human form—a "folly" made flesh—it fused with Beelzebub, the once-venerated god cast down and demonized by the shift of human faith. Abandoned by her native star, that being then turned to Cthulhu in hateful alliance.
And as a god stigmatized into demonhood, Beelzebub naturally excelled at the art of staining others with infamy. Take Jeanne d'Arc, burned unjustly at the stake: though she was exonerated twenty-five years later thanks to her mother and many others, Francesca, with her endless copies, could well be called undying.
Three centuries later, during the French Revolution, Jeanne's relics were destroyed, and the centuries-old decree that Domrémy would remain free of taxation—once promised in her name—was revoked. In thaumaturgical terms, such events were akin to her suffering a third symbolic death.
Had Napoleon not stepped forward at the time to reaffirm her glory, elevating her as France's patriotic emblem and national heroine, Jeanne may well have been disgraced all over again.
Now Avia understood. His enemies included:
Marble Pityfall, the "human savior" empowered by the planet itself;
Francesca, the human-form of Atë fused with Beelzebub, hidden in the shadows;
And potentially, Cthulhu himself.
"Merlin, may I trouble you for a favor?"
After sorting through the thoughts in his mind, the silver-haired youth turned toward the girl who seemed bored, crouched nearby, fiddling idly with white blossoms.
"Hm? What is it? Say it, and I'll listen first."
Merlin lifted her head, her violet eyes sparkling with playful delight.
Seeing her expression, Avia already had a bad feeling—but he pressed on anyway, for the sake of his goal.
"Beneath the Fairy Lake of Britain, and its counterpart, Avalon's Lake, there lies a sword. Could you bring it out for me?"
"...Huh?" The white-haired girl's face froze in mock terror. "Do you even realize? That lake is under the Lady of the Lake's jurisdiction. Some of her aspects are very troublesome. It'd be near impossible—unless..."
"Go on. What's your price?"
Noting Merlin's mischievous grin, Avia let out a quiet sigh.
He did not regret sparing her by not cashing in her earlier promise. But if her personality remained this way, she was bound to be a headache. Still... perhaps it was only natural for a creature like her, devoid of human sentiment.
Humans shouldn't be like this, he thought. She looked human, but pain never showed on her face.
How dull. If only she were... twisted.
She blinked. Twisted?
The thought arose so naturally it startled her. And once she became aware of it, the idea settled seamlessly into her heart.
Heh. She smiled faintly to herself.
So that's how it is, huh.
"I was just thinking," Merlin said, resting her chin on her staff, ignoring the glances from Kurohime and Typhon, "if your face were to twist in agony—if I could see that expression up close—I feel like just imagining it is already incredibly good for my health."
Her violet eyes, calm and clear, fixed on Avia.
"So? Can you fulfill my request?"
"I can. I just don't know when I'll be like that."
The silver-haired youth replied evenly.
"Well, true, I doubt it'll happen anytime soon... but still, I am looking forward to it."
The half-Nightmare girl, lacking all human sentiment, smiled faintly.
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