Chapter 26: Adulelia II

The scenery before Shuou rocked up and down. Holding on for dear life, he swung left and right, his field of vision finally flipping upside down.

“Ouch…”

Trying to count the number of times he’d groaned in pain had become ridiculous. He sat upon the damp ground cleared of snow. Holding the shoulder he’d hit when falling from his horse, he stood back up.

“That’s what happens when you try to make the horse listen to you,” said Kazahina.

Her warning, spoken with a wry smile, hurt Shuou’s ears.

“But the horse I borrowed from you last time listened to me,” he said.

“That one is special. Smart horses pay attention to their riders, but such fine steeds are rare. If you can get used to riding a horse with a violent temperament like this one, your equestrian skills will improve in no time.”

While Kazahina explained this, she held the reins of the wild horse, which shook its head in a flighty manner, backing away.

“Maybe you’re right,” said Shuou, “but this horse is excessively violent…”

So far as Shuou could remember, he’d been thrown off more than twenty times already. Furthermore, the horse had almost kicked him with its hind legs more than five times.

“I won’t listen to complaining,” said Kazahina. “You’re the one who asked me to teach you horseback riding in the first place.”

She spoke as if trying to soothe a child throwing a tantrum, making Shuou feel embarrassed. And she was right. Shuou had been the one to request her instruction, his head bowed.

Recently, he’d gotten involved in the foolish antics of Queen Aventurine: ruler of Murakumo’s neighboring country. As a result, he’d been sentenced to indefinite house arrest. An absurd verdict.  Under normal circumstances, he would have been confined to a cramped, solitary cell. Yet thanks to the suggestion of Duchess Adulelia, an eminent noble of Murakumo, Shuou had been temporarily placed under her custody.

Though he’d expected to be treated like a servant or someone in charge of odd jobs, he’d been given a lavish guest room and free time within the main residence of the Adulelia Dukedom. Even more surprisingly, Kazahina – Amue’s adjutant – had been assigned as Shuou’s personal caretaker. Considering the current situation, even he had a difficult time accepting this generous treatment.

Shuou remembered the first thing Amue had said to him upon arriving. “Tell Kazahina whatever you want to do, see, eat, or drink.” Despite his astonishment, Shuou had requested training in something he struggled with: horseback riding. During his spare time, he’d also asked for instruction in Murakumo’s noble arts, such as swordsmanship and etiquette, to which Kazahina had readily agreed.

Not long had passed since Kazahina’s instruction had begun, but during their time together, Shuou had had learned something about her. She had an extraordinarily uncompromising personality. 

For example, if he didn’t accomplish something with near-perfect accuracy during table manner instructions, she wouldn’t allow his training to end. Until now, Kazahina had always approached him in a relatively kind manner. Yet once he’d asked for her instruction, Shuou realized that he’d underestimated her. Even during horseback training, she always smiled, maintaining a gentle, ladylike air. Nevertheless, she emanated an inexplicably threatening aura, making Shuou hesitate to even ask for a break.

Tumbling from his horse once again, Shuou hit the ground, bending his body and issuing an undignified groan. “Ouch!”

“You give the impression of being able to do anything skillfully, but… you really do struggle with this.”

Rather than disappointed, Kazahina looked troubled as she walked over to the fallen Shuou, sinking to her knees. Seeing Kazahina stare at him, her head tilted, a wave of guilt washed over Shuou. In all likelihood, she was grappling with how to teach such a poor student.

Without thinking, Shuou muttered to himself. “What’s left to try…?”

“I know.” Kazahina spoke with precise timing, thinking Shuou had addressed her. “It seems like you’re scared of actually mounting the horse. To acclimate yourself to riding, why don’t you lay on your stomach across the horse’s back? Something like this—”

To demonstrate, she bent forward.

“Isn’t that more dangerous?” asked Shuou.

“It’s surprisingly stable. This method is actually used to train young horses to allow people on their backs. It might help ease a person’s fear of mounting a horse as well.”

Somewhat unsure of themselves, they decided to test a training method with very little practical grounding. As the horse snorted and stomped its hooves, Kazahina held the creature down, allowing Shuou to dive belly first onto its back, which raged like the surface of a lake on a windy day.

“Woah!” he cried.

Thinking the horse would throw him off again, he felt scared at first, but unlike the normal sitting posture he’d used up ’til now, a little swaying wouldn’t cause him to fall from this position. Moreover, he could press down on the horse’s stomach with his hands and legs. Finally, just like Kazahina had predicted, his lowered field of vision eased his fear.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“M-Much better!” Shuou yelled energetically, feeling a vague resistance in his hands.

Like a young child, Kazahina called back to him in a delighted voice. 

“Ahaha!”

Suddenly, hearty laughter echoed from behind them. In that instant, Shuou could sense Kazahina’s tension.

“Professor… Amai?” she asked, her voice filled with surprise.

Though a visitor seemed to have arrived, Shuou could only hear his voice while clinging to the horse’s back.

“Kazahina, it’s been quite some time,” said the visitor.

“Indeed,” she replied. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Though I’d like to exchange greetings with my former student, why don’t you help him dismount for now?”

“Of course…”

Placing gentle hands on his waist, Kazahina helped lower Shuou onto the ground. Feeling solid earth beneath his feet, relief washed over him. As the man wearing round glasses peered at him, Shuou offered an introduction. “Um, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Shuou.”

“I’m Shi’shi’Jishi Amai,” the man replied at once. “I apologize for laughing at you just now, but you gave off a completely different impression from the person I’d heard about.”

Scratching the back of his head, Amai offered an apology. Based on his bright, navy blue military uniform and the deep, turquoise Miracrystal on the back of his left hand, Shuou could easily deduce his position as a Bright Lord. Combined with him referring to Kazahina as his student, Shuou could more or less imagine the man’s position. Still, Amai had spoken as if he knew Shuou, piquing his interest.

“This is our first meeting, isn’t it?” asked Shuou.

Seeming to have anticipated this reaction, Amue offered a gentle smile in return. “Yes, of course. I’ve only heard rumors of you: the Squire who defeated the tyrant of a neighboring country. Not only did you challenge multiple Brights and return safely, but you also disabled those opponents. Hearing all this, I’d imagined you as a savage beast of a man. As such, I couldn’t help but chuckle.”

“I see…”

Amai lowered his head towards Shuou. Noticing his perplexity, Kazahina came to his rescue.

“Professor,” she said, “please don’t trouble him so.”

“Oh, I beg your pardon…” Amai apologized. “Did I commit some kind of faux pas?”

“Most people wouldn’t know how to respond to a stranger suddenly bringing up gossip.”

“I see. That’s what you meant.”

Though he didn’t understand why, a sense of discomfort overtook Shuou. Compared to when she’d been speaking to him mere minutes ago, Kazahina’s bearing had changed drastically. When addressing Amai, she remained expressionless, her words dispassionate. Her attitude reminded Shuou of a candle flame extinguishing without a sound.

“By the way, what brings you to our manor today?” Kazahina asked with no inflection. “Don’t tell me it’s to see your former student.”

“You are ever the same, Kazahina,” said Amai. “Put simply, my purpose in coming here today is to fulfill a personal desire.”

He withdrew an unadorned letter folded in thirds, handing it to Kazahina.

“A permit… to enter the cemetery?” she asked. “You haven’t changed much yourself, Professor.”

Amai’s face broke into a large grin, causing Shuou to wonder what he was so happy about.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said. “Lady Orthoclase told me to bring along a companion. If it’s not too much trouble, will you be my guide?”

“Right now…? I’m under orders from Lady Orthoclase to act as Shuou’s caretaker. I can’t leave his side at my own discretion.”

Kazahina and Amai both turned their gazes towards Shuou.

“Then if I accompany you, that should suit everyone’s objective, right?” asked Shuou. “If I’m allowed inside this cemetery, that is.”

In response to Shuou’s suggestion, his and Amai’s gazes focused on Kazahina this time.

“Your ward has said as much,” said Amai. “What do you think?”

“Allowing Shuou inside the cemetery shouldn’t pose a problem,” replied Kazahina, readily giving her permission.  However, upon hearing her next words, the blood drained from Shuou’s face. “Oh, that’s right. Why don’t we practice horseback riding on our way there?”

***

As they climbed the unmaintained mountain path, Shuou felt a sense of relief. The horse he now sat astride wasn’t a wild creature, ferocious as a mother bear protecting her cubs. He’d mounted one of the gentlest mares in Adulelia’s stables, Amai pulling the reins. When Kazahina had tried bringing Shuou – an unskilled rider – along on the back of a wild horse, the professor had reprimanded her.

“In any case, that horse is too violent for someone just learning to ride,” he said with exasperation. “Where on earth did you bring that creature from?”

“From a tavern on the outskirts of town,” Kazahina answered matter-of-factly. “It was being used as a bucking bronco to entertain guests. When a regular tried riding it on a whim, the horse kicked him to death. Since the owner wasn’t sure how to deal with the creature, I was able to buy him at a much cheaper price.”

Hearing this, Shuou groaned. “That horse is a murderer…?”

Looking skyward, Amai shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated manner. “You had a beginner ride atop a packhorse that should have been killed…? You’re probably not cut out to be a teacher.”

Under their disconsolate stares, Kazahina awkwardly averted her gaze. “I thought it was a good idea.”

“That’s the furthest thing from a good idea I’ve heard in ages. Well, people can be suited and ill-suited to different things.” Amai shifted his gaze from his former student to Shuou. “You needn’t think too hard about riding. Even a beginner should be able to gallop a well-trained horse without too much difficulty. But first, you must eliminate your fear and anxiety.”

“Anxiety, Sir…?” asked Shuou.

“Yes, you’re too anxious right now. Your body is so rigid, the horse you’re riding must feel like it’s carrying a heavy lump of stone. Also, horses are sensitive to emotion. Even humans prefer being around those who seem happy rather than frightened or sad, don’t you think?”

“…Yes, you’re right.”

Upon closer inspection, sweat poured from the neck of Shuou’s horse. If the mare could sense his unease, she must have felt very uncomfortable right now.

Sorry about that.

To change his state of mind, Shuou muttered those words internally, relaxing his shoulders. Strangely enough, this caused a pleasant vibration from the horse’s gait to envelop his entire body. The difference that a single change in attitude could make astounded him.

A desire to improve oneself didn’t always have a positive effect. While trying to attain a new skill, he’d been too focused on learning and acquiring. In a roundabout way, Amai had taught him the importance of sometimes letting go, depending on the situation.

Noticing how much more composed Shuou had become, Amai called out to him in high spirits. “Yes, yes! You’re a fast learner.”

Though his cheery words of praise seemed a touch exaggerated, they weren’t unpleasant.

As the trio climbed higher, the mountain path became narrower and steeper. They continued through a coniferous forest, so dense and overgrown that it blocked the rays of the sun. Eventually, the line of trees came to an end, revealing the edge of a cliff. Despite being a bit of a detour from their destination, Kazahina had led them to a perfect place from which to view the entire cityscape of Adulelia.

“My, my…” Amai sighed in admiration.

“What a spectacular view,” said Shuou, captivated by the scene unfolding below him.

“There’s no better place from which to view the entire city,” Kazahina explained with a hint of pride. “Since childhood, this has been a favorite place of mine.”

Below them lay an entirely different view from the royal capital, where many stone buildings lined the streets in even intervals. Built from durable, crushed grass mixed with mud, squat buildings formed a dense line across the streets of Adulelia. Planed diagonally, bundles of straw covered the majority of rooftops.

“Despite being in the same country, Adulelia is completely different from the capital,” Shuou muttered to himself.

In response, Amai’s eyes widened. “Exactly! Thank you for pointing that out!”

“Huh?”

With a fluid motion, Amai sidled up to a bewildered Shuou, grabbing his hands and staring directly at him. At the same time, he noticed Kazahina furrowing her brow. Though only for a moment, her expression – as perceived by Shuou’s left eye – seemed to say, “You’ve just made a huge mistake.”

“After the Gray Forest and its Rabidaemon inhabitants drove us away, humanity spent a long time within isolated worlds,” said Amai. “You’re aware of this, right?”

Overwhelmed by the man’s spirited chattering, Shuou nodded up and down.

“These isolated human societies developed unique cultures,” the professor continued. “Most striking were differences in food, clothes, architecture, and customs. Even in the east, our values were sometimes diametrically opposed to those of our neighbors. Quite often, those cultural dissimilarities became the source of conflict between nations.”

Taking a deep breath, Amai shifted his gaze from Shuou to the cityscape below. 

“The people of Adulelia prefer to wear robes dyed in shades of blue called Ice Attire or Ice Styled Garments,” he explained. “In comparison, people in the capital prefer simple clothes fashioned after the western style with deep, solid colors… Don’t you find that strange?”

Amai spoke as if querying himself, looking down upon the people – who appeared no larger than peas – going about their daily lives.

“Isn’t that due to the strong influence of nobles who immigrated from the west?” asked Kazahina.

In response, Amai shook his head. “That’s the prevailing theory, and it’s likely the truth. Even so, it’s a mere pretext. Our country’s lack of attachment to its own culture is unusual. Except for Adulelia, most regions have accepted the western culture spreading from the royal capital. The number of people who teach our unique, eastern martial arts, which use the Murakumo Blade, are decreasing drastically. Other countries tout their religious beliefs, placing their faith in various gods, but in Murakumo, we have no concept of faith, much less a religion. Still, few people even attempt to consider this. In fact, they have no interest in this subject to begin with.”

With nowhere to vent his anger, Amai bit his lip in frustration, furrowing his brow.

“Let’s keep moving, Professor,” Kazahina urged. “We haven’t made preparations to travel at night.”

Coming back to himself, Amai’s expression softened. “Yes, of course… I fell victim to my bad habit once again, it seems. Well then, I’ll continue as we walk.”

Hearing this, Kazahina cast her gaze skyward. Finding her expression comical, Shuou struggled to contain his laughter.

As they continued onward, the road to Adulelia Cemetery grew increasingly steep. Finally, the path became so precipitous that Shuou feared for his horse. Dismounting, he led the mare by her reins. All the while, Amai continued to voice his thoughts, Shuou offering noncommittal responses each time. Having experienced something similar in the past, Kazahina deftly ignored her old professor’s commentary. 

Most of what Amai spoke about existed in a different realm from Shuou. However, when the professor broached a topic that he’d experienced himself, Shuou found his interest piqued.

“Do you know about the graduation exam of Gemstone Academy, where I used to teach?”

As an actual participant, the exam had left such a strong impression on Shuou that he could still recall it vividly.

“I do,” he replied.

“Outdated traditions are always part of culture,” said Amai. “One can find a few irrational customs or practices anywhere. But when Murakumo discarded its attachment to its own culture, we also rejected the festivals and traditions of various regions. Traces of this can still be seen. Our country’s strength is even derived from this unique rationality, one could even argue. So, take this into consideration while reexamining our foolish graduation exam, which also serves as a coming-of-age ceremony. Now, do you not see the remarkable contradiction?”

Shuou recalled what Aise had said during their journey through the Abyss. “Meaninglessly sending those who are meant to protect the country into such a dangerous place… Is that the contradiction you’re talking about?”

“Just the answer I was looking for. Bright and Crystalier candidates are the future bedrock of our nation’s defense. An enormous budget is poured into their training, and the quality of Brights in Murakumo isn’t unfavorable when compared to other countries. In fact, they fit into the superior category. Under the pretext of judging their aptitude for command, we send those valuable lives to their deaths. Therein lies the contradiction. Though many people have their doubts about this test, it hasn’t been rectified in all these long years… Why, you ask? Because one of the foremost, oldest living men in the world strongly advocates for this graduation exam.”

Shuou felt tension growing in the air. Until now, Kazahina had tried acting unconcerned. Now, she stopped and turned around.

“What are you trying to say, Professor?” she asked.

“I’ve only spoken the truth,” said Amai. “Despite his tremendous political power, Gwen doesn’t indulge in selfish desires, cares for the people, and rules in such a way to preserve the nation’s stability even without a monarch. Yet despite his overwhelming capabilities, he meaninglessly persists in holding this event that robs the young and inexperienced of their lives. I wanted to ask Shuou for his impression of Gwen Vlad, who shoulders this contradiction. Yes, he is shrouded in mystery, but this particular action should seem strange from anyone’s perspective.”

As he spoke, Amai looked at Shuou, leaving him bewildered.

To cover for Shuou, Kazahina gave her former professor a firm warning. “You know the dangers of criticizing Lord Gwen in this country. Depending on the place and to whom you speak, you should be prepared to lose your house name. Or even your life.”

“Yes, and I’ve carefully chosen my conversation partners and our location,” said Amai, once again turning to Shuou. “You have witnessed Lord Gwen’s strange behavior firsthand. Tell me: did you sense anything unusual related to his treatment of Queen Aventurine, who rules over a vassal state?”

Without understanding the implication behind Amai’s words, Shuou thought about the events surrounding Queen Aventurine. “I don’t understand difficult subjects like politics, but his response to the queen’s actions seemed a little too… soft.”

Seeming to have procured his desired answer, Amai gave a few brisk nods. “I’m relieved. While in this country, I could almost imagine that only I had been exposed to this sense of unease.”

Since the beginning of the conversation, Shuou had been unable to grasp the meaning behind Amai’s words. “So what are you trying to say?” he asked, somewhat irritated.

“I’ve been saying the same thing this entire conversation. If you reel in the contradictory, out-of-place threads running through the warped aspects of Murakumo, they all lead back to one man. Recently, this trend has become evident in two events. First, in the treatment of Aventurine, which you experienced firsthand. The queen used deceitful means to violently abduct and confine two Squires. This would have been the perfect opportunity to annex Aventurine, whose independence has been recognized for many years due to a past treaty. For the benefit of our nation and from the perspective of the entire eastern region, Murakumo annexing Aventurine makes perfect sense. Undoubtedly, Lord Gwen realizes this, as even a student could understand this situation. Even so, he accepted Aventurine’s demands and kept the details from going public: a judgement so lukewarm, it wouldn’t serve as a baby’s first bath.”

Kazahina raised an objection, interrupting the conversation. “But we can’t abandon a treaty between nations so easily. If we started a war over one act of violence, even if the perpetrator happened to be a monarch, people would lose faith in Murakumo’s word, placing us at a disadvantage. It seems like you’re ignoring that, Professor.”

Though Kazahina’s words were still devoid of emotion, her statement did contain a tinge of criticism and disdain, Shuou realized.

This is uncomfortable.

The silence flowing between Amai and Kazahina for a single moment inspired this thought. So profound was this quiet that even the wind grated on Shuou’s ears.

Despite the awkwardness in the air, Amai maintained his composure, donning a gentle smile as he spoke. “I don’t deny the importance of keeping one’s promises. Faithfully upholding one’s oaths even in the midst of hardship can have great meaning down the line. I understand this.”

“Then—” Kazahina started to speak, but Amai cut her off with an unwavering, composed gesture.

“I’ve spoken while taking all of this into consideration. In the past, I’ve imagined reasons to allay the various sources of my unease. Yet stemming from the incident with Aventurine, in which Shuou played a vital role, Supreme Commander Gwen decided to send Princess Sa’salia away from the capital for her studies. At that time, I couldn’t ignore these oddities any longer.”

“Is it so strange for Her Highness to come study within a vassal’s territory?”

In response to Kazahina’s question, Amai’s gentle smile finally stiffened. Shuou drew back slightly enough to go unnoticed. Behind Amai’s round glasses, Shuou could sense a dark and murky emotion in the professor’s eyes, unimaginable based on his demeanor up ’til now.

“In all likelihood, only those without loyalty to the royal family don’t find this strange,” said Amai. “Princess Sa’salia is the last remaining, pure heir of Murakumo’s royal family. As the highest ranking noble in the east, why must she leave the safety of the capital to risk a journey through the Abyss? Perhaps this trip will help improve her poor reputation, but if the unthinkable happens to her, Murakumo’s loss will be great. Taking this into consideration, I can definitively say that having the princess study away from home is out of the question. And at the same time, I can’t help but have my suspicions about Gwen Vlad. Is he making light of the royal family and the nation of Murakumo as a whole?”

“Well…”

Unable to come up with a counterargument, Kazahina trailed off.

As silence fell over them, the source of this stillness spoke in an unnaturally cheerful voice to make up for his carelessness. “I’ll stop troubling my former student with inescapable conversations,” said Amai. “Even so, I’d like you to understand why I brought up this discussion here and now.”

As he spoke, Amai fixed his gaze on Shuou.

“You want me to understand?”

Amai answered with a deliberate nod.

“I’m merely a Squire,” said Shuou. “I may have become involved with these people through sheer coincidence, but they exist in a different realm from me. No matter what I’m told about them, I have nothing to add.”

“I’d be very interested to know how many other ‘mere Squires’ Duchess Adulelia has welcomed to her main residence as guests,” said Amai. “Well, even if we investigated this, the results would be obvious. Her Excellency’s treatment of you proves your worth as an individual, not as a Squire. There’s something special about you, and you’ve already produced results to substantiate this. Despite being a Squire without a Sunstone, you faced the queen of a nation secretly planning a conspiracy, returning unscathed. I have high expectations of you. One day, we should be able to exchange views and have conversations like the previous one.”

“You think too highly of me.”

“I’ll leave my decision on that matter for later. Think of what I’ve said today as sowing seeds and brush it off for now. Our world is built upon connections. Someday, this connection will become beneficial to the both of us, I pray.”

Having revealed everything he wanted to say, Amai began advancing down the path towards the cemetery, leaving behind a dumbfounded Shuou. Looking at Kazahina for the first time, he found her glaring at Amai’s back with frigid eyes. A chill running down his spine, Shuou began following the professor.

“This cemetery was built on high ground, as if to glower over the entire word,” said Amai. “Without question, these are the graves of rulers.”

Like rows of columns, rectangularly quarried, stone pillars rose from the ground in an irregular pattern. Surrounded by trees, hardly any light reached the cemetery, creating a gloomy environment. In addition to the melancholic atmosphere, there was no evidence of conscientious maintenance. If these were the graves of the Adulelia clan, one could surmise how little interest they had in death. Rather than a cemetery, this location gave off the aura of a ruin site or temple. 

Upon arriving, Amai seemed as excited as a ten-year-old child. He investigated the materials of stones lying in various places. Likewise, he scooped up dirt still underneath snow, placing it in containers. The cemetery of House Adulelia had more than enough value to stimulate his researcher’s blood, it seemed.

“Is this place really that interesting?” asked Shuou, somewhat exasperated.

“For someone like me, the word “interesting” doesn’t suffice,” Amai replied at once. “This is the height of bliss.”

While Amai lost himself in excitement, Kazahina spoke, her cool words putting a damper on his enthusiasm. “Our family holds no hope of an afterlife. In this cemetery, we leave behind stelae of historic leaders to serve as proof of their past existences. Not a single fragment of anyone’s broken Miracrystal is buried here.”

“For my purposes, its ancientness alone is more precious than a pile of gold ingots,” said Amai. “Furthermore, this location has maintained its original atmosphere, as no one has overseen the preservation of its outer beauty. To the right people, this cemetery contains so much value, we could easily forget to wipe the drool from our mouths. I say this with no exaggeration. Oh, but… this is…”

Looking over the inscription on one particular stele, Amai tilted his head far to the side.

“What’s going on?” asked Shuou.

“It appears to be some kind of epitaph,” said the professor. “But unlike the others, it doesn’t contain the implications of a grave. There’s a passage carved in the ancient script, but the letters have been so worn down, I can’t read them. Oh, but if I focus on the connections here and there, I might be able to understand one section…”

Amai’s explanation gradually transformed into him thinking aloud. Straining, he began to decipher the letters engraved upon the stele. “We… burn… silent… to the… true… Ah, it’s futile. The important sections have all but faded away.”

“You can’t fill in the unclear sections with your imagination?” Shuou asked experimentally.

The professor shook his head. “No, I can’t. I merely filled in the gaps of nigh incomprehensible characters to read that last section… However, this portion does have a few remaining letters that I can just barely make out as an actual word.”

Shuou looked to where Amai pointed. As the professor had said, this section alone had faintly maintained the shape of its characters.

“What does it say?” asked Shuou.

“It reads as… Heart?”

“What?”

“Without a doubt, it reads as Heart.”

“As in a beating heart?”

“I wonder. Truthfully, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen the word “heart” written in the ancient script. Among various places in the east, especially when traveling around historical locations, I’ve encountered similar stelae in one form or another. Most of them were damaged and deteriorated, making their contents similarly difficult to grasp. Yet when I tried deciphering the readable sections, the word “heart” always appeared. Of course, “heart” brings to mind one of the most important parts of the human body, but you mustn’t forget: we have another vital organ worthy of being called a second heart.”

“You mean our Miracrystals?”

“Yes. Specifically, the section within the Miracrystal called the Life Core. This nucleus could be called a second life, as its destruction causes the extinguishment of one’s entire existence. Thinking of the Life Core as a second heart is commonplace throughout the world. Additionally, in the religion extending from north to the west, a doctrine viewing our Miracrystals as gifts from God is circulated as common knowledge. And finally, they sometimes refer to their Miracrystals as Hearts of Lapis.”

Hearing these unfamiliar words, Shuou tilted his head. “Hearts of… Lapis?”

“There are multiple theories, but according to one, Lapis is the word for “stone” from a language dating back to the Divine Age. Yet according to another theory, it is the very name of God. Is this the origin of the word “Heart” appearing on stelae in various places throughout the east? We lack the materials for a proper judgement. Even so, these are possible remnants pointing towards a faith that might have once existed in the east.”

Original text: https://ncode.syosetu.com/n4006r/14/