Chapter 14: The Guardian of Humanity (5)
In the past, Kaiser had been surrounded by many people.
Back then, he was not yet known by the name Kaiser. More than that, he considered himself weak. True, others called him a genius, and he had confidence in his own skill — but he was like a frog in a well. The fish that lived in the lake could never understand the vastness of the ocean. Whether by good fortune or misfortune, Kaiser was always thrown into harsh battles.
For instance, if Kaiser's level had been ten, his opponents would be level eleven or twelve — enemies stronger than him, but not impossibly so. They were foes he could potentially overcome through effort, and he fought such battles time and time again. Repeating that cycle, he gradually crossed the boundaries of humankind, then those of heroes, and began to step into the realm of beings beyond them — the realm of aberrants.
He had talent, of course, but talent alone was not what forged him. Even if others had been given the same gift, few could have become what Kaiser was. He fought battles he could not avoid, and even those he could have avoided — always for the sake of protecting humankind. Some of those battles were fierce, others simple, some… twisted.
Ironically, despite his devotion, humans sometimes called Kaiser a monster. He had been stabbed after battle by those he had just saved — terrified voices trembling as they called him inhuman. He had never forgotten those sounds.
And yet, he continued to protect them.
Why? Because not all humans were like that.
And because promises must be kept.
Kaiser always swung his sword for the sake of humanity.
When conflicts arose among humans themselves, he would decide where to stand only after considering — which path would save more lives?
Perhaps that was utilitarian of him. He could not deny it.
If asked whether he could sacrifice the few to save the many, he would have no easy answer. But he also believed it was wrong to endanger the majority for the sake of a few. He would think of every possible solution — yet if no compromise existed, he would cut away what had to be cut. The time for despair and hesitation had long since passed.
And so Kaiser gradually lost his humanity.
He became not a hero who protected, but simply a guardian who remained.
When he first met Evil Eye, he still believed he had fragments of humanity left. But slowly, even those faded away, until finally, he lost even the reason to cling to them — and disappeared.
Only a few years ago had he begun to regain a sliver of what he had lost. He could smile again. His once-still heart began to ripple faintly. It might have been a bad sign for a guardian, but not necessarily a bad thing for a man.
....
"Good day, Climb."
"…K–Kaiser, sir! Ah, Lady Renner, this is Mister Kaiser!"
"K–Kaiser? As in that Kaiser? The one from legend? Is that really you?"
"N–no, I'm sure it's just someone with the same name…"
He didn't bother clarifying the truth.
There was no need to. Whether he was truly the legendary Kaiser or not didn't matter to anyone else — and to Kaiser himself, it mattered even less. Ever since his name had become legend, answering endless questions about it had become exhausting.
Kaiser turned his eyes toward the young woman beside Climb.
Long hair, pale golden like spun sunlight, and eyes as blue as sapphires. The first word that came to Kaiser's mind was golden.
This was the Princess of the Re-Estize Kingdom — Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself.
He had heard of her, even in passing: the princess whose beauty inspired countless songs by wandering bards, who worked tirelessly to abolish slavery and ease her people's suffering.
Gentle and compassionate — that was the impression she gave. Yet Kaiser merely observed her quietly.
As he studied her, Renner smiled and spoke.
"It's an honor to meet you. I'm Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself. Climb said he met an incredibly strong man, and I wanted to see for myself."
"I've heard much about you as well, Lady Renner. Even as a mere traveler passing through this kingdom, I've often heard songs praising your beauty. Seeing you now, I can confirm they were no exaggeration."
Kaiser replied with a calm smile, exchanging polite words with her.
Yet within, he felt a strange sense of familiarity — an uncanny feeling he could not ignore.
There was no proof, and it was rude to harbor such thoughts toward someone he had only just met, but his gaze — the kind that could pierce through façades — rarely failed him.
Still, he couldn't be sure.
He had once met a woman very much like Renner — in face, in voice, in the aura that lingered behind her smile.
"By the way, Climb," Kaiser said after a moment, "I believe Gazef was looking for you earlier."
"Captain Stronoff was?"
"Yes, I saw him near the dining hall."
"L–Lady Renner, please excuse me—"
"It's all right," Renner replied kindly. "My chambers are just nearby. Why don't you ask this gentleman to escort me back? If even Captain Stronoff acknowledges him, I'm sure his credentials are unquestionable."
Kaiser gave a light shrug and an easy smile, silently accepting the unspoken request.
Climb bowed gratefully before hurrying off, leaving the princess and the wanderer alone in the golden-lit corridor.
As Renner spoke with a mischievous smile, Climb gave a dry laugh and bowed slightly toward Kaiser — an expression that silently asked, please look after her.
Kaiser gave a small shrug in response, wordlessly assuring him he understood. Climb then hurried off down the hall, his footsteps fading quickly.
Kaiser and Renner were left alone as they began walking slowly toward her chambers.
"I've heard you're quite strong," Renner said lightly.
"Are you, by any chance, an adventurer?"
"I was one," Kaiser replied.
"Are you stronger than Sir Gazef?"
"…Let's just say that's not something I should answer here."
He smiled faintly.
A careless answer could stir unnecessary trouble. If word spread that Gazef, the kingdom's hero, was weaker than some unknown wanderer, the nobles would erupt in gossip.
But Renner's eyes sparkled as though his vague reply had been all the confirmation she needed.
At least outwardly, she seemed amused —composed. Yet Kaiser found himself more and more intrigued by her.
"Perhaps someday," Renner said, "you could share your adventures with me?"
"Of course," Kaiser said, pausing briefly.
"So long as you remain… human."
"Pardon? I'm not sure I understand."
Kaiser scratched the back of his neck.
"I once knew someone very much like you. She hid her true self behind a perfect mask — brilliant, clever, but too detached to truly understand those around her. In the end, she became something akin to a Demon King who destroyed her own nation."
He looked into Renner's eyes.
"But you are different. Because there is someone who sees you as human, who sees you as light."
For a fleeting moment, Climb's face crossed his mind.
In those young eyes were respect, admiration, and something softer — love, faintly concealed at the edges.
"Don't betray the one who keeps you human," Kaiser said quietly. "If he truly matters to you, then treasure him."
Renner's lips curved slightly. "I hope we can meet again — smiling like this. Then, you can tell me one of your adventures."
Kaiser smiled back. "I'd like that."
Then, her tone shifted — calm, emotionless.
"…Who exactly are you?"
Her gaze was sharp now, analytical.
She was surely speculating, forming hypotheses about who — or what — he truly was. There were, after all, those rare beings not quite human even from birth.
Kaiser saw it — the emptiness in her eyes, the absence of true emotion.
And yet she smiled, played the part of a kind-hearted princess, mingled with humans. Perhaps that was because of Climb — because someone looked at her with pure, unwavering admiration.
In a strange way, she and Kaiser were alike.
He clung to his fading humanity; she was born without it, yet wore it as a mask.
If she truly cherished that boy and the light in his eyes, Kaiser hoped she would never betray it. He didn't want that idealistic young man's life to end tragically.
If the foundation of his "justice" was this girl, then let her at least see it through — even if it was a lie.
Her mind was already straying beyond human bounds. But as long as something — or someone — kept her mask in place, Kaiser decided not to interfere.
Please, he thought silently, understand what that boy sees in you. Don't betray the gaze that believes in you. Don't fall into the darkness.
Otherwise… it might someday fall to him to stop her.
"…Kaiser," he said at last, bowing his head slightly.
"Kaiser, Princess Renner."
He smiled gently — at the girl who still wore the fragile shape of a human.
....
Clatter… clatter…
The sound of the carriage wheels echoed faintly down the palace corridor.
In the underground halls of the Slane Theocracy's great church, a girl stood silently — a scythe in one hand and a rubik cube in the other.
Not long ago, she had been harshly scolded for appearing before Nigun without permission.
She hadn't listened, of course.
It was all so tedious anyway.
Zesshi Zetsumei — that was the name people had given her.
The reason she stayed here wasn't patriotism, nor faith. It was simply because she had nowhere else to go.
She felt no love for the parents who had brought her into the world.
If everything burned to ash tomorrow, she wouldn't care.
If she had to fight, then she would fight — but only because she happened to be here.
Not for the sake of the Theocracy, not for its gods.
Those around her understood that well enough, and so they refrained from treating her harshly.
Because if Zesshi ever lost control… or decided to leave…It would become a catastrophe.
She toyed idly with the rubik cube in her hand.
At some point, she realized a familiar man was standing before her — Nigun Grid Luin.
"…What do you want?"
"N–no, I was just wondering… is there something I should be doing?"
"Nothing. Didn't they tell you that?"
"Well, yes, but still—"
The priest of the Sunlight Scripture wiped sweat from his brow.
After witnessing Zesshi's existence firsthand, he had been bound by secrecy — and assigned as her aide as punishment.
A meaningless role, really.
Zesshi almost never left the church.
So for the past three days, Nigun had done nothing but watch her fiddle with her rubik cube, stare off blankly, or swing her scythe for no apparent reason.
It was dull work — monotonous and suffocating — yet he couldn't neglect his duty.
And so, every day, he came to this place.
"I have no further business with you," Zesshi said flatly.
"Even so, I… can't exactly ignore my orders."
Nigun exhaled softly. He needed to find something that might catch her interest, or she'd soon decide she didn't need a "watcher" at all — which, honestly, was true.
Even if she went outside, what could he possibly do?
Still, he forced himself to speak.
There was one topic that came to mind — one he would rather not bring up, but it was better than being dismissed.
"Um… do you know anything about Kaiser?"
The rubik cube stopped.
Her hand froze mid-turn.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Her eyes, which had been fixed on the toy moments before, slowly turned toward him.
"…It's been a long time since we met," she murmured.
"About a hundred and fifty years ago — not long after I was born."
"One hundred and fifty years… Then, he really exists?"
Zesshi let out a faint, mocking sigh.
"Do you honestly think what you saw him do could be achieved by any living human?"
Her shoulders lowered slightly, as if amused by his naïveté.
To her, Kaiser was — and still remained — the strongest being she had ever encountered.
The only one she could not defeat.
That feeling — helplessness — had been foreign to her until then.
But along with it came something unexpected: relief.
Born with terrifying power, Zesshi had always been both worshiped and feared.
Yet meeting Kaiser had shown her she was not alone.
There existed another "monster" like herself — one who bore the same weight.
And in that realization, she found comfort.
She had never again felt that same, overwhelming emotion.
"…Is he an enemy of the Theocracy?" Nigun finally asked.
"Do you know about the so-called Plague of Massacre from around 150 years ago?"
"Yes. I've read the records. It said people just… fell asleep and never woke up. No cause was ever found, and so it was called the 'Massacre Plague.'"
"That," Zesshi said calmly, "was caused by the Theocracy's own upper council."
"W–what!?"
"They'd rotted through by that point. Completely."
Nigun stared in shock, unable to speak.
Zesshi, seeing his expression, continued — her tone detached, almost bored.
"The people who died in that plague were sacrifices. They were used for a large-scale resurrection ritual."
"Impossible! The Theocracy exists to protect mankind! Why would they—why would they do that, Lady Zesshi!?"
"To bring back a god."
"…A god?"
"One of the Six Great Gods. A foolish attempt — but they tried nonetheless."
Nigun swallowed hard. His throat felt dry.
The air in the chamber grew heavier.
Zesshi's crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim candlelight as she looked toward the ceiling — as though recalling something far beyond human memory.
"Did they succeed?"
"Halfway."
No one truly wanted the ritual to succeed — yet, by some miracle, it did.
A miracle that never should have happened.
Even now, the full truth was unknown.
Not to the priests of the Slane Theocracy, not even to Zesshi Zetsumei herself.
That dreadful, hidden truth remained buried beneath centuries of faith and silence.
Still toying with her cube, Zesshi spoke in a low voice.
"The resurrection worked — but only halfway. The body of one of the Six Great Gods returned… not the mind. What revived wasn't a god. Only the power that had borne the name of one. If you insisted on calling it a god, it would have been a god of destruction."
"T–that can't be… There's no way such a thing could be true! But… but the Theocracy still stands! Then… was it you, Lady Zesshi, who defeated that being?"
She gave a small, dry laugh.
"Hardly. I was still young back then — and even now, I wouldn't have been strong enough. Even mindless, the so-called god completely outclassed me. A perfect superior in every way. And, honestly, I didn't even know why I should fight it back then. That's how immature I was."
Zesshi fell silent for a moment.
In truth, she believed that even if she had fought seriously, she still might have lost.
Perhaps the Six Great Gods had truly once been divine — her own ancestor might even have been one of them.
"…And then," she continued quietly, "in that moment of despair, Kaiser appeared — and killed the god. That was the end of it."
"He—he killed a god!?" Nigun blurted out, eyes wide.
Whether it had truly been a god was another matter. Zesshi wasn't foolish enough to say such things aloud before a fanatic of the Theocracy — she didn't care for unnecessary trouble.
"At that time," she said, "Kaiser was already… complete. A monster worthy of the title Guardian of Humanity."
Her lips twisted faintly.
"Tell me, Nigun. What do you think the Theocracy did to the man who killed a god?"
Nigun hesitated.
If her words were true, then Kaiser had saved countless lives — a hero, not a heretic.
Yet the Theocracy's records painted him as a blasphemer, a myth turned warning.
After a moment's thought, Nigun replied carefully, "If it were me… I would have tried to recruit him — no matter the cost."
"…You've got a better head on your shoulders than most," Zesshi muttered. "Back then, the Theocracy drove a sword into his back."
"W–what!? They stabbed their savior in the back!?"
"From their point of view, it was better to die by a god's hand than to watch a god die by a man's. They were less a faith, more a cult — and that hasn't changed much, even now."
Nigun remembered the man he had once met on the plains.
Kaiser — the one who said he disliked the Theocracy.
If Zesshi's story was true, it made sense. It was a miracle he had spoken with such calm restraint… even sparing Nigun's life afterward.
Perhaps he had done so because there was no reason to destroy them anymore.
"Then… he must resent the Theocracy," Nigun whispered.
"Hardly."
"What… do you mean by that?"
"…It's bothersome to explain," Zesshi said, stretching languidly. "I'm going to sleep."
"W–wait, Lady Zesshi—!"
His words were cut short when she lazily kicked him aside and walked off down the corridor.
Maybe, she thought, Kaiser should have been angry.
When the battle with the so-called god ended — when the Theocracy plunged a blade into his back and showered him with stones and curses — maybe he should have raged.
But he hadn't.
Instead, he'd only looked… sad.
And then he had simply walked away, as if his role in the world had ended.
Perhaps he'd wanted to be hated.
Perhaps he'd wanted them to see their own ugliness reflected in his silence.
Zesshi would have joined him in that fury — she truly would have.
But instead, he left behind only one request:
"Protect them."
Even after everything.
That was why she still remained here.
Not because Kaiser was stronger — though he was — but because of what made him terrifying in a different way: his utter lack of hatred.
The eyes of that inhuman guardian had held no trace of what could be called "human."
And yet… that was precisely why she could never forget them.
If humanity itself were real, she wondered, and if the Guardian of Humanity had not existed — what would have become of this world?
Zesshi's lips curved into a faint, bitter smile.
"Honestly… the nerve of them. The arrogance of fools."
Her voice echoed softly through the empty stone corridor as she walked away — her footsteps slow, fading into the silence.
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