Reincarnated as a Cultist Mob - Chapter 5

 Mechanical Pencil and Robe

I had a strange dream. A distant memory from my past life—unimportant, yet unforgettable—resurfaced.

"[███]-kun, here, you can have this!"

A girl in my class gave me a mechanical pencil. I forgot when it happened, or even who that girl was, but I think we had a faint connection—something like a friend of a friend. After receiving the gift, I cherished and used that mechanical pencil for the rest of my life.

It was a plain, ordinary product sold anywhere. Maybe she just didn't like the design and dumped an unwanted item on me while keeping up appearances. Either way, I kept using it until it was completely tattered. Even when it became hard to use, I couldn't bring myself to let go of it. I think I even started developing feelings for the girl who gave it to me.

One day, the mechanical pencil broke. If it were a pen with no sentimental value, I would have thrown it in the trash immediately, but I couldn't bring myself to discard it. Instead, I carefully stored it inside my "treasure box."

Why, I wonder? I can't remember a thing about that girl, yet somehow, I can still remember that pen.

……

Yoanne found a special value in my robe, and when it was destroyed, she flew into a rage. Even though she claimed to hate me, it was a robe given to her by a subordinate—she must have been at least a little happy to receive it.

Judging by the relationship between the executives and regular cultists other than myself, opportunities to receive gifts must have been rare. Come to think of it, back in my previous life, I rarely received gifts either.

That robe might have been to Yoanne what that mechanical pencil was to me.

……

My consciousness slowly surfaced...

"...Ugh, where... am I...?"

When I opened my eyes, I was lying inside prickly hay. A strange odor filled the air. My body began to itch, so I sprang out of the pile, only for the chaotic scene around me to catch my eye.

(W-What on earth is this...?)

The corpses of Orthodox and Cultist soldiers were piled high on top of one another. A pale, lifeless severed head glared straight at me.

Gradually, memories of what happened before I lost consciousness flooded back. We were danced around by fake information and ambushed by Celestia and the Orthodox army. Then, blown away by the aftermath of the battle, I lost consciousness...

...Where is Yoanne? Celestia too. Maybe they're still fighting.

Those two monsters wouldn't die easily. To kill them, not a single cell could be left behind in this world. As long as there are mob corpses around, I can afford to think optimistically. The real danger only begins when mob corpses disappear and the terrain itself gets carved up.

Besides, even if Yoanne's death isn't confirmed, the situation remains dire. Orthodox soldiers might have survived just like I did. In a one-on-one fight against an Orthodox soldier, I'd likely lose simply due to the difference in food quality and sleep hours.

For a moment, I thought about abandoning the mission and fleeing the cult, but having my face remembered by executives from both the Orthodox and Cult factions was the absolute worst-case scenario. I had neither the confidence nor the capability to evade both of their intelligence networks.

The fantasy of disappearing simply by throwing away the pendant with the "Marker" vanished. Pulling myself together, I began searching for Yoanne.

(...What a horrific sight. Unlike us, some of these soldiers are wearing plate armor, yet they've been ripped apart like paper...)

Walking along the edge of the village, I encountered Orthodox soldiers destroyed beyond recognition, as if an explosion had gone off. The jagged cross-sections looked like violently torn paper, showing they were ripped apart by sheer, immense strength. Occasionally, a pile of arrows sprouted from a corpse, reminding me of the tragedy that had transpired here.

The Orthodox army—or normal people in general—tended to avoid friendly fire. Yoanne likely took advantage of that in her strategy. She must have charged right into the center of the Orthodox forces, using soldiers as human shields while slaughtering them one by one.

That explained the friendly arrows sticking out of the corpses. Celestia couldn't unleash her magic freely. As expected, the executives are adept at choosing the optimal move...

(...Well, I might as well grab some gear.)

Since I had lost my crossbow, I decided to borrow one from an enemy corpse. Whether due to rigor mortis, the soldier's corpse refused to let go of the crossbow stock. As I braced myself like I was pulling a giant turnip out of the ground, the pile of corpses right in front of me shifted upward.

"W-What—"

"—You damn cultist scum! No matter how many of you we kill, you keep swarming like bugs!!"

A soldier suddenly burst out from beneath the bodies, thrusting a longsword directly at me. Barely yanking the crossbow free, I used the momentum to roll backward and dodge the enemy's thrust. Still rolling along the ground, I fired a bolt from the crossbow.

The man blocked the bolt with the back of his left hand, avoiding a fatal wound. A few more shots would put him down, but I didn't have time to reload. Drawing my iron sword, I steeled my resolve and faced the dying soldier.

The man's shoulder was deeply slashed open, exposing bone. Blood poured continuously from his wound. Crimson dripped from the corner of his mouth; even with medical treatment, his death was inevitable.

...Judging by the ornate armor compared to the soldiers around him, he was likely a captain-class commander.

"Our Lord... I shall join You shortly."

"Tch..."

A captain-class commander meant a veteran soldier who had fought through countless battles against cultists. In the original game, he would be a minor foe unworthy of attention, but to me, he was a boss-level threat. Even in a dying state, a tough fight was guaranteed.

Still, if I flinch at anyone other than executives, how am I going to survive? It's kill or be killed.

With all the spirit I could muster, I dove into his chest and swung my sword with full strength.

A clear clang echoed through the air as our blades locked in a clash.

"Haaaah...!"

Despite being on the verge of death, the man pushed back with abnormal strength. My waist felt ready to give out. As our power balanced out, I made a split-second decision and kicked up into his flank.

"Ugh!"

The pressure on his sword loosened just a fraction. Seizing the opening to launch an offensive, I quickly gained the upper hand.

He was dying. His candle flame was flickering out.

However, as if sensing their captain's peril—an Orthodox soldier who should have been dead snapped back to life and grabbed hold of my ankle.

(No way—!)

My stance broke. My vision blurred. A dull impact and heat. A sword plunged into my chest.

"Guh-aah!!"

Before I could even recoil from the pain, the back of my head slammed hard against the ground. Straddling over me, the man held his sword in a reverse grip, moments away from driving it down.

"Wait—?!"

The next instant, the upper half of the man on top of me was carved away by a violent gust of wind. A moment later, a shockwave and a cloud of dust erupted, blowing away the soldier who was clinging to my leg.

Slammed against the ground by the impact, I tumbled several times before forcing my head up.

Looking ahead, I saw a boulder deeply embedded in the earth, emitting trails of smoke.

—Throwing at the "Marker."

Yoanne must have sensed my danger and thrown a boulder to save me. Just as a wave of relief washed over me, I groaned from a sharp, electric pain shooting across my chest.

"Ngh... cough, damn it, that hurts..."

Thanks to my ribs, it wasn't a fatal wound, but it still hurt like hell. Through the tear in my clothes, the split-open wound revealed a glimpse of yellow fat.

Slowly steadying my breath, I wondered why Yoanne hadn't thrown her head to "teleport" over instead.

...Don't tell me she's still fighting Celestia?

Looking in the direction where the boulder had flown, I heard a faint sound. Squinting toward it, the landscape appeared unnaturally distorted. There was no doubt—it was Celestia's wind magic. Following the sound, I ran toward it.

"……!!"

Witnessing the scene, I was struck completely speechless. A headless body that seemed to be Yoanne and Celestia—whose face was cut in half—were battling each other while spilling their insides onto the ground.

Just how much resolve does it take to become such a monster? I stood there, utterly overwhelmed.

"If I erase every last cell of your body—not even you can regenerate!!"

Having her head destroyed, Yoanne had lost her sight and couldn't pinpoint the enemy's location. She was thrashing around wildly. Regeneration of her head would take only a few seconds, but conversely, that meant a few seconds of leeway existed. For fighters of their caliber, those few seconds were a massive opening—

—This is bad. Yoanne is going to get killed.

Sensing a terrible premonition, I shouted without caring if my wound split open further.

"Yoanne, wake up fast!!"

I hated Yoanne. I had no idea what went on in her head, she worshipped a cult leader, and she monitored my every move. I was supposed to hate her, yet I didn't want her to die. It wasn't a calculated thought, but a complex, bizarre feeling straight from my heart.

—Thinking back now, it all makes sense. Why a boulder flew over to save me back then. Why Yoanne was forced into a disadvantage with her head blown off.

Yoanne had forced her way through combat with Celestia to throw that boulder—all to save me.

(This makes no sense!! Why?! That's so unlike 'Yoanne'!!)

You were supposed to be someone who swallowed sacrifices for the sake of victory! A cold-blooded, heartless fanatic who cared for no one except the Cult Leader!

...Why?

Straddling Yoanne, Celestia screamed, her silver hair stained with blood.

"This is—the end!!"

Celestia's silver hair fluttered backward. Pressing her palms together, she thrust her palms forward as energy began to condense. The atmosphere vibrated, and wind gathered toward her hands.

Don't tell me... that's the anti-executive ultimate technique she's supposed to create in the middle of the original game—

"—Explode!"

Wind swept across the earth. An air bullet compressed to its absolute limit shot forth, hitting Yoanne's body with a deafening roar.

In the next moment, Yoanne's flesh was carved away from existence.

A strike that left not a single drop of blood or a single cell behind.

"Haa... haa... With this... it's finally over..."

I collapsed onto the ground.

The balance had broken.

Exhausting her strength, Celestia sank to her knees. Glaring over at me, she unleashed a wind spell without any wind-up motion, as if declaring she wouldn't let any witnesses escape.

I didn't have the stamina to dodge anymore. Overwhelmed by a strange sense of powerlessness and exhaustion, I closed my eyes without resisting, ready for death.

"————"

The pendant at my neck was vibrating.

Like a chick pecking its way out of an eggshell.

"...?"

No impact ever came.

Opening my eyes to see what happened, a naked girl stood right before me.

"I'm back~~"

A silly, husky female voice dominated the area.

A long, heavy silence fell. I couldn't comprehend what had just transpired.

Stunned and speechless, Celestia turned deathly pale. Shaking her hair wildly, she let out a agonizing scream.

"Yo... Yoanne...?! How?! You were destroyed down to the last cell by my previous attack...!!"

"I had this guy carry a chunk of my flesh. Guess you didn't know."

"—Tch!!"

Celestia's expression turned into a terrifying mix of biting bitter regret, lamenting her own folly, and an uncontainable, boiling rage.

Yoanne's words finally brought my memory back. The Marker. The earlobe I placed inside the pendant was 'a chunk of flesh' itself. Her cells had never been erased from this world.

Overcome with relief, my legs gave out, and I let out a massive sigh.

"...I never imagined I would be the one leaving parting words. Until we meet again, Yoanne... Next time, I will surely kill you."

Despairing over Yoanne's resurrection, Celestia vanished into thin air and fled. For some reason, Yoanne didn't give chase. Looking up from below to ask why, my eyes met with the still-naked Yoanne.

"Ocree, are you alright?"

She healed the wound on my chest.

Then, she slowly began piecing words together.

"Ocree. I think... I've gone strange."

"Eh...?"

"I'll do anything that makes the Cult Leader happy. I'll gladly accept any mission he gives me, and I'd gladly die for it. And yet... Ocree... whenever it involves you, I can't make calm decisions anymore."

"What are you..."

Even though one crisis had passed, a strange, terrifying chill crept over me.

"First, when you were being attacked by that Orthodox soldier. ...To defeat Celestia, I shouldn't have turned my back to throw that rock. Because of that, my head got blown off and I got pinned down."

Yoanne's confession didn't stop.

"Just now, too. I should have pursued the weakened Celestia. Setting aside whether I could catch her since she's fast... I couldn't chase her because I was too worried about your injuries."

It wouldn't stop.

"I kept thinking. On and on..."

It wouldn't stop.

On the contrary, her passion was accelerating.

"But I finally get it now. The meaning behind this feeling."

Those eyes.

Those cold, objectifying, spiral-patterned eyes. The exact same temperature in her eyes as the moment she called me "in the way"—

"Ocree feels the same way, right?"

A mental state impossible for normal people to comprehend. A dangerous species you should never get involved with. I was learning firsthand what fans of the original game meant by those words.

"Yeah, that's right."

—The world flipped upside down.

"Looks like we're 'mutually in love.'"

Goosebumps broke out across my entire body. Hearing a emotion far too heavy—one that bypassed 'trust' and 'friendship' completely—I felt true, deep terror for the first time in my life.

I had been acting like a bystander. Taking comfort in the fact that this was a world inside a game, I never truly faced reality. I treated the executives as named 'characters' rather than seeing them as individual human beings.

—Yoanne was alive.

She spoke words outside the script written by scenario writers, thought freely—and fell in love with someone. Just like how the protagonist made her fall for him.

"……"

My mind went blank, and I felt my eyes moving independently.

"Hey, Ocree. Could you... drape that robe over me again?"

A reality far more painful than any defeat or any form of death was bearing down on me.

Ah—I am—

"...Hehe. You're the only one besides the Cult Leader who tries to cover up my naked body."

It was noon. The fog had cleared, leaving a cloudless sky. Yet, my vision reflected a darkness blacker than the deepest night.

"To commemorate our mutual love, take my ring finger. I wanted to swap it before the earlobe rotted... but world of convenience, huh? Saved me the trouble."

"……"

Saying so, Yoanne opened the pendant hanging around my neck and began busily stuffing her severed finger inside.

My mind finally restarted. Fully grasping what was happening, I forced a bright, pleasant smile.

The stuffed finger looks kind of cute, like a little snail.

Whatever. Do whatever you want.

Prev            TOC            Next