“……”
Having heard the entire story, Ater groaned.
“…The Evil God… might never have been born….”
The world had become hell because of an herbivore blinded by fury. It had been the mistaken judgment of an immature intelligent being.
Having finished the story, the deer firmly closed its mouth as though it were an ordinary beast. Aram looked from the deer to the suffering Ater and back again. After considering something, she asked Ater,
“Is this very difficult for you?”
“…No. The records had allowed me to anticipate some of it.”
“That is true.”
“I will not lose my reason now.”
During the hundreds, or perhaps thousands, of years Ater spent imprisoned within the prison of thorns, he had often become a madman. But this was not one of those times. It would be foolish for specters of the past to quarrel over sin and responsibility.
“I cannot allow myself to become any more foolish.”
That would be more horrific than a disaster.
“But this story has made one thing certain.”
“I am thinking the same thing.”
They could now be certain.
“Argio is unmistakably an Evil God of Fury.”
At last, the time had come to open the coffin.
“…I am ready.”
“I believe we have done everything we can.”
“I only hope our shallow stratagem succeeds.”
“It can. The Evil God looks down on us.”
“Even this is no more than a struggle within the bounds he permits… but it does not feel unpleasant.”
“I have prepared myself as well.”
The deer did not hide itself as it had before.
“……”
“Will you open the coffin with us?”
“…Piii.”
“I understand.”
Though capable of language, the deer did not use it. Neither Aram nor Ater knew the exact reason. Accompanied by the deer, which…