The Spike of Conviction: The World Through the Eyes of the Witch's Apostles - Episode 7

Night had broken. Gouf stood in the underground third level's private chamber, his back pressed against the stone wall. The illumination stone cast an orange flicker across the space. From somewhere, water dripped at regular intervals onto the flagstones. That sound alone marked the passage of time. He had stopped Volk's messenger. The details didn't matter. He had no intention of making them matter. He had simply stopped them. That was all. His joints felt heavy. The scar across the back of his left hand throbbed with a dull ache—the price of moving through the night without rest. The cold of the wall seeped through his clothes into his back. Strangely, he found it comforting. (Seril should be arriving soon.) He had calculated the distance and time until dawn. If all went well, she should be approaching the outskirts of Lindol Village by now. He had never met Gelt Hargen directly. But Ortz had once told him that the village chief could be trusted. He had chosen to believe that. He had no other choice. It wasn't so much that he had chosen to believe—it was that there was nothing else he could choose. Three slow knocks sounded at the door. Ortz. "Come in," The door opened. Ortz's face held its usual expressionlessness, but a thin layer of exhaustion floated in his eyes. The face of a man who had spent the night as Gouf had. "Volk is moving. He's noticed the messenger hasn't returned," "I see," "A full gathering of the organization should happen by early afternoon today," Gouf nodded. It was within expectations. He had known from the start that stopping the messenger would set Volk in motion. "What will you do," Ortz paused for a moment. "I will stand in the same position as you, Gouf-sama. I have no intention of changing that now," His voice was emotionless. But the weight of those words reached Gouf. Fifteen years was that kind of thing. Gouf pushed away from the wall. "I'll sleep until the gathering. Wake me in two hours," "Understood," Ortz closed the door. His footsteps receded down the corridor. Gouf lowered himself into a chair. The desk held nothing. He hadn't opened Echidna's manuscript today. There was no need to. "Doubt the world's rightness"—that phrase had already answered itself through action last night. Doubting and moving were not contradictory. It was a night where he had confirmed that with his body. Before closing his eyes, Gouf thought of Seril one more time. Her small back. The sound of her footsteps on fallen leaves. Her shadow dissolving into darkness. Their hands had overlapped, just slightly, in that moment. That was all. But Gouf still felt it at the tips of his left hand's fingers. Not so much warmth as a sense of presence—something that had been there. When had Gouf forgotten the sensation of another person's touch? (I'm thinking unnecessary things.) He thought that, but he didn't have the will to push it away. Gouf closed his eyes. —— He woke before noon. It was slightly earlier than Ortz's signal. His body had woken on its own. He wasn't accustomed to long rest. He washed his face with water and stepped into the corridor. He headed toward the first underground level. The dining hall was quiet. The morning hours had passed, and it was that awkward time before noon. A single believer from the kitchen staff was cutting bread. When Gouf entered, they bowed lightly. Gouf nodded and sat at the edge of a table. His gaze naturally turned toward the direction of the room where Seril had been. The door was open. Inside was empty. Only a blanket lay neatly folded on the bed. Gouf looked at it for a moment. (She folded it properly before leaving.) He thought it odd—how meticulous the girl was. In a desperate situation, right before fleeing, she had folded her blanket. Something loosened slightly in the depths of Gouf's chest. He couldn't quite put it into words. It simply loosened. That was all. "Gouf-sama," Ortz's voice came from the corridor. Gouf stood. "Volk has gathered everyone in the conference room," "Let's go," —— The air in the conference room was far heavier than it had been last night. Believers lined the long table. Volk's faction, Gouf's direct subordinates, the neutral—everyone was present. Volk stood at the head of the table. The peacefulness from last night was gone from his face. When Gouf entered, all eyes turned toward him. Volk opened his mouth quietly. "The messenger to the Creyvan district has disappeared. On the same night, a child under the organization's protection also vanished," The room fell silent. Gouf said nothing. He stood and looked at Volk. "Gouf. Did you do this," "Yes," He answered briefly, without hesitation. The word fell into the stone chamber. Someone drew a sharp breath. Volk's expression didn't change. That made it all the more terrifying. "……I'll hear your reason," "I cannot follow operations that permit civilian casualties. I said that last night. I cannot follow the order to dispose of the child. That's all," "You defied the organization's decision," "I judged that the organization had lost its way, so I stopped it," Giene stood up. Her eyes held something sharper than last night's anger. "The authority of the Arrogant isn't meant to be used like this! Don't use it as an excuse to tear the organization apart!" "I moved by my own judgment. That's all. If I meant to tear it apart, I would have moved sooner," Giene slammed her fist on the table. But Gouf didn't flinch. Volk raised his hand, restraining Giene. A long silence followed. Then Volk spoke. His voice was quiet. Not anger, but the voice of a decision. "Gouf. Your position within the organization is suspended, effective today. Another will take over the Creyvan district operation. For now, you will remain at this base," Not execution. Not exile. Simply suspension. Gouf measured the meaning of those words in a single beat. Volk wasn't ready to let Gouf go. He still thought the piece of the Bishop of Arrogance too valuable to discard. That was Volk's calculation. "Let it be recorded. No matter what happens to my position, my judgment will not change," Volk's eyes narrowed slightly. "……It will be recorded," The meeting ended. —— As Gouf walked the corridor, Lett came jogging after him from behind. A believer in his thirties, the man who had said last night that he would follow Gouf. "Gouf-sama," Gouf stopped. He didn't turn around. "What should we do," "Continue as you have been," "But——" "Don't imitate me. My judgment is my own. You decide how you will move," Lett fell silent. Gouf continued down the corridor. As he descended the stairs to the third underground level, Gouf confirmed one thing. Where was Seril now? If she had reached Lindol Village, everything from there on would have to be carved out by her own hand. Forna Village, a hundred and twenty kilometers south of the capital—her ruined homeland—how would that girl come to terms with it? Gouf didn't know. He had no position to know. He only remembered that the blanket had been folded neatly. He opened the door to his private chamber. A stone room. A desk. Walls. The illumination stone. Nothing had changed. Gouf stood before the desk. He opened a drawer. Inside lay a single sheet of paper. Blank. Nothing written on it. He took it in his hand. For a while, he simply looked at it. There was nothing to write. His hand simply moved. That was all. ——Echidna's words were "doubt the world's rightness." Those words still existed within Gouf. They hadn't disappeared. But since last night, something else seemed to follow those words. It hadn't yet taken shape. It hadn't become words. Yet it was there. Gouf returned the paper to the desk. In the windowless stone chamber, a distant sound reached him. The cry of a bird from above ground. After nightfall, in this time before noon, the forest birds began to move. Gouf listened to that sound for a while. His position in the organization was suspended, effective today. His direct confrontation with Volk was far from over. The Creyvan district operation was now in another's hands. He had only stopped it for one night. Problems remained in abundance. And yet, Gouf was here now. He looked at the back of his left hand once more. The scarred hand. The hand where, last night, a small hand had rested for just a moment. Gouf quietly closed his hand. What came next was still undecided. But one thing was certain: he would keep moving. That was enough, Gouf thought. For today.

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Episode 7

Name: The Spike of Conviction: The World Through the Eyes of the Witch's Apostles
Author: Novelia

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