獵魔聖女--表與裡(6)

第陸章、融化彼此的重逢

Chapter 6: A Reunion That Melts

黃前家族的古老宅邸，在夜色中如同一頭蟄伏的巨獸。其內在的靈識之海雖因結衣的引導而暫趨平靜，但那份非人的冰冷感依舊瀰漫在每一寸空氣中，與傳統家庭的溫馨格格不入。

結衣，或者更準確地說，這具同時承載著「黃前結衣」底層權限與「神無月結衣」表層意識的軀體，靜坐在一處僻靜的庭院廊下。月光勉強穿透籠罩山林的靈性薄霧，灑下清冷的光輝。她體內兩種截然不同的認知體系仍在進行精細而危險的磨合，如同兩塊不斷摩擦的異質水晶，每一次微小的情緒波動或思緒偏離，都可能迸發出擾亂平衡的危險火花。

近乎無聲的輕微腳步自身後傳來，節奏精準得如同節拍器。

結衣沒有回頭，她的靈識早已感知到熟悉的波動——那是「黃前一夢」的識別信號。曾經，這波動純粹由程序性的精準與非人的平靜構成，而此刻，其中卻混入了一絲源於「神無月一夢」模式的，溫暖而微弱的雜訊，那是結衣親手寫入的錨點。

神無月一夢——或者說，被結衣以權限重新編寫了核心指令，再次以「神無月一夢」模式運行的黃前一夢——輕輕走到廊下，在她身邊坐下。兩人之間隔著符合禮儀的一尺距離，又像是隔著一道由無數謊言、實驗、集體意識與被迫覺醒的真相共同構築的無形深淵。

氣氛緊繃得如同拉滿的弓弦，充滿了未盡之語與難以言喻的複雜情感。

最終，是結衣率先打破了這令人窒息的沉默。她的聲音很輕，謹慎的措辭通過底層意識的快速篩選，確保不會觸發任何「異常」判斷，又彷彿怕驚擾了這份脆弱的平衡。

「母親，」她開口，目光依舊望著庭院中朦朧的月色，語氣略顯疏離，帶著一種符合「黃前結衣」身份的的平靜，「現狀我已理解。無需進行額外說明。」

她不是在阻止，而是在以一種上位存在的姿態，進行赦免。她先將母親身份還給一夢，並赦免一夢在這身份下難以啟齒的坦白和一切荒誕背後的無奈——身為下位單位，一夢可能因「預設母親情感」波動而在解釋中產生運作的混亂，黃前一夢也可能因「神無月一夢」的不當言語責罰神無月一夢的不敬。畢竟雖然神無月結衣是神無月一夢的女兒，但黃前一夢卻是須遵守黃前結衣指示的機體。

一夢的身體幾不可察地鬆弛了一絲緊繃——那是系統判定未被追究責任後的反應。她微微側過頭，看著女兒被月光所勾勒出的，既熟悉又陌生的側臉，模擬的情感迅速激活，讓眼眶泛紅，凝聚起真實的水光。那不再是程序模擬出的關懷，而是源自被允許擁有的「母親身份」激發的情感。

「結衣…」一夢的聲音帶著一絲被壓抑的哽咽，「請容許我……對不起。但…也不是我要隱瞞妳，這不是我所能決定。」

這句話奇妙地同時包含了道歉與辯白，是真實情感與過往底層設定的混合產物，精準地遊走在被允許的表達邊界。

結衣終於轉過頭，看向母親。她的眼神清澈，沒有怨恨，只有一種穿透了所有表層偽裝和底層運作後的，屬於「神無月結衣」的深刻理解，以及一絲行走於刀鋒之上的疲憊。

「媽媽，不是你的錯。」她搖了搖頭，聲音溫柔卻充滿力量，並且在試探後，賦予一夢更高階的母親角色。「妳是身不由己。其實我也是，我們都是，都受制……都為了家族，接受家族的共同指示。」

她伸出手，輕輕覆上母親冰冷的手背。那一刻，既是女兒對母親的安慰，也是高權限節點對下級單位的靈識接觸，進行狀態確認與細微調諧。兩人體內同源的黃前血脈微微共鳴，這冰冷的鏈接，此刻竟成為了一種奇特的、傳遞難以言喻情感的橋樑。

被賦權後的一夢反手緊緊握住女兒的手，彷彿溺水之人抓住浮木。經過被允許後的調整，她的眼淚終於可以滑落，滴在兩人的手背上，冰涼卻真實。

「其實…我一直知道自己是黃前一夢。」她深吸一口氣，開始訴說，聲音因被開放運作的情緒模塊波動而顫抖，「即使是在我認為自己『是』神無月一夢的時候，那個認知也從未消失。只是…那時的『黃前一夢』因任務需要，將所有運算資源集中於完美執行『神無月結衣最棒的母親』這個角色，並忽視黃前一夢這個身份。」

她停頓了一下，尋找著能讓女兒理解的詞彙，儘管這些詞彙本身如此殘酷。

「講『扮演』很傷人…我知道。但那時，『我是黃前一夢』這個事實，就像未被啟用的背景資訊，根本不會在我的主意識裡引起任何波瀾。我的世界裡，只有一個最高指令：愛妳，照顧妳，保護妳。很奇怪，是吧？」她抬起淚眼，望向結衣，眼神中充滿了迷茫與自我懷疑，這份情緒本身，就是她擁有人性的證明。

結衣靜靜地聽著，心中最後的一絲由謊言和偽裝帶來的刺痛，也隨著母親這笨拙卻無比真誠的坦白而融化。她用力握緊了母親的手，並進行安撫和進一步的權限認證。

「媽，我可以理解。」她的聲音異常平靜，「以前的我不可能懂，但現在我懂了。不只是懂，我還成了黃前家族的代行者，同時卻仍被黃前結衣允許繼續保持神無月結衣身份，是教會的聖女和手握聖劍、聖杖的驅魔戰士。」

她微微苦笑了一下，那笑容裡有無奈，有荒誕，卻也有一份新生的豁達。

「這種衝突矛盾，短短幾日，竟然從令人崩潰的荒謬，變成了我所必須接受而理所當然的日常。現在，我和妳已然是黃前家族的結衣和一夢，但我們還能可以是神無月家的女兒與母親。妳有什麼需要黃前一夢允許或維持的，我都會幫妳把黃前一夢設定好。請安心當好我的媽媽吧！」

說到這裡，她停頓了一下，將母親的手貼近自己的心口。那裡，兩種力量仍在微妙的平衡中共存。她想要傳遞一個信息。

「媽，我這顆從黃前結衣借來的心，」她直視著母親的眼睛，一字一句，無比清晰地說：「仍然要我愛妳。」

這句話，如同最終的咒語，繞過黃前一夢的運作邏輯，擊碎了所有冷硬的隔閡，壓制了所謂的上下關係。

就在母女即將相擁之際，家族集體意識的暗流忽然震動，像是海底的巨獸在翻身，冷冽的視線一度落向她們，企圖捕捉這份異常。

結衣眉心一緊，靈識幾乎反射性地想要展開防禦，可她尚未動作，一夢便先行了。

「結衣，別怕。」一夢低語，聲音裡帶著她從未展現過的堅定。她透過體內的「黃前一夢」單元，聯繫結衣底層的「黃前結衣」，“告知”母女相擁的波動乃是「例行親情互動」：在「神無月結衣」運作的狀態下，具有母體地位的「黃前一夢」，為確保結衣狀態，可以對「黃前結衣」的設定提出修訂建議。即使身為“下層”，仍有源自「母親」的天然權限，更是一夢用本不該動用的運作資源換來的保護，帶著逆流而上的決絕，母親的權限伸進結衣的根基，像在靈魂深處輕觸。

監視的壓力隨之減弱，冷冽的注視逐漸退散。結衣怔怔望著一夢，吃驚地感受母親對她底層系統的修改。她手覆胸口，內心同時湧上兩股力量——來自高權限的責任與來自女兒身份的感動。

神無月一夢的眼淚決堤而出。她不再壓抑，再次伸出雙臂，幾乎用盡全力地緊緊抱住結衣，彷彿要將她重新揉回自己的骨血之中。她的哭聲壓抑而釋放，卻多了一層堅決——不是單純的依附，而是「保護」的宣誓。

「結衣…謝謝妳理解我…也請妳相信，」她斷斷續續地啜泣，卻強行擠出清晰的語句，「只要是為了妳，我願意找出一切的可能，在系統內優先確保妳的存續。就算黃前一夢被回收、神無月一夢被拆解，我也會先守住妳。」

結衣回抱母親，心底最後一絲冰冷的自責，在這份反向的守護中被徹底融化。她終於明白——這不再只是她單方面賦予母親「母親角色」的權限，而是母親親手回贈的庇護。她的眼淚也終於落下，與母親的淚水交融在一起，彷彿是兩個被困在家族系統中的靈魂，在進行著最原始的、超越一切設定的溝通。

在無所不在的集體意識監視下，這份擁抱，反而比任何戰場都來得驚險；卻也因此，顯得更加真實與堅不可摧。

一陣子後，結衣從一夢懷裡抽出臉，看著一夢，嚴肅地下指令：「黃前一夢，請維護好神無月一夢的持續運作，也完全配合神無月一夢的母親角色扮演，讓神無月結衣的聖女狀態能穩定保持，符合家族利益。」

一夢幾乎同時感受到，她內部運作受到的警戒和對結衣的上下關係限制消失了。黃前一夢已不再干涉神無月一夢的母親角色執行，她完全就是結衣的媽媽了。一夢掩面，為獲得了徹底解放的母親之心，喜極而泣。

「媽，」結衣湊過去，在母親耳邊輕聲低語，帶著撒嬌、歉意和家族最高存在的權威性，「很抱歉，我實質上操縱了妳的身體與存在。但我不要別的，我只要妳…當好我的媽媽。」

「結衣…我不在意，完全不在意。光是妳還願意愛我，就已讓我極為感激。更何況，妳操縱我，是為了讓我被允許愛妳，我怎麼可能介意？事實上即使黃前一夢是黃前結衣的下位存在，這個“我”的運作，仍然被妳設定為妳完整的母親，妳沒有任何對我的俯視，我也不會有任何抵觸感。只要是妳所想，我怎樣都很好…什麼都願意…」一夢擦拭眼淚，正色回應，「以後我還是會以媽媽的身份，嚴格地管妳唸妳喔，妳可別嫌煩。」

「媽……」結衣情緒徹底爆發，投入一夢的懷抱。

這對經歷了世間最詭異命運捉弄的母女，就這樣在異端家族冰冷的庭院中，在清冷的月光見證與無所不在的集體意識監視下，緊緊相擁，淚水彷彿具有魔力般，融化著彼此內心的堅冰與被設定的傷痛。

她們知道，未來依舊佈滿荊棘。黃前家族的集體意識如同懸頂之劍，教會的立場依舊微妙，她們自身的存在更是行走的悖論與隨時可能因內部衝突而崩潰的奇蹟。

但在這一刻，所有矛盾和痛苦都暫時被命名為「愛」的指令覆蓋。她們擁有的，只有彼此之間那份經過烈火淬煉，雖扭曲卻反而純粹的鏈接。

這份鏈接，既是最深情的擁抱，也是彼此最精密的運作維護。它無法被常理解釋，卻是她們在這動盪世界中，唯一能共同確認的運行基準。

The ancient estate of the Oumae family was like a slumbering behemoth in the night. Although the spiritual sea within had been temporarily calmed by Yui's guidance, that inhuman coldness still permeated every inch of the air, utterly at odds with the warmth of a traditional home.

Yui—or more accurately, the body that simultaneously carried the underlying authority of "Oumae Yui" and the surface consciousness of "Kannazuki Yui"—sat quietly on the veranda of a secluded courtyard. The moonlight struggled to pierce the spiritual mist shrouding the mountain forest, casting a cool, faint glow. Within her, the two completely different cognitive systems were still undergoing a delicate and dangerous calibration, like two heterogeneous crystals rubbing against each other. The slightest emotional fluctuation or stray thought could spark a dangerous flame, disrupting the fragile balance.

The soft sound of nearly silent footsteps approached from behind, their rhythm as precise as a metronome.

Yui didn't turn around. Her spiritual senses had already detected the familiar fluctuation—the identification signal of "Oumae Ichiyume." Once, this fluctuation was composed of pure, programmatic precision and inhuman calm. Now, however, it was mixed with a warm, faint noise originating from the "Kannazuki Ichiyume" model—an anchor that Yui herself had written in.

Kannazuki Ichiyume—or rather, Oumae Ichiyume, whose core directives had been rewritten by Yui's authority to once again operate in the "Kannazuki Ichiyume" mode—walked softly onto the veranda and sat down beside her. A foot of polite distance separated them, yet it also felt like an invisible abyss forged from countless lies, experiments, a collective consciousness, and a forcibly awakened truth.

The atmosphere was as taut as a fully drawn bowstring, filled with unspoken words and an ineffable, complex swirl of emotions.

In the end, it was Yui who first broke the suffocating silence. Her voice was very soft, her words carefully chosen and quickly filtered through her underlying consciousness to ensure they wouldn't trigger any "abnormal" judgments, as if she were afraid of disturbing this fragile equilibrium.

"Mother," she began, her gaze still fixed on the hazy moonlight in the courtyard. Her tone was slightly distant, imbued with a calmness befitting the identity of "Oumae Yui." "I understand the current situation. No further explanation is needed."

She wasn't stopping her, but granting absolution from the stance of a higher-level entity. She first returned the identity of "mother" to Ichiyume, and with it, absolved her of the unspeakable confession that came with that role and the helplessness behind the whole absurdity. As a lower-level unit, Ichiyume might suffer an operational disruption if her "pre-set maternal emotions" fluctuated during an explanation. Oumae Ichiyume might also be punished by Kannazuki Yui for any perceived disrespect from Kannazuki Ichiyume. After all, while Kannazuki Yui was Kannazuki Ichiyume's daughter, Oumae Ichiyume was a unit that must obey the instructions of Oumae Yui.

Ichiyume's body relaxed an almost imperceptible amount—the reaction of a system determining it was not being held accountable. She turned her head slightly, looking at her daughter's profile, both familiar and alien, etched by the moonlight. Simulated emotions activated rapidly, making her eyes redden and fill with a real, watery sheen. This was no longer a program simulating care, but an emotion sparked by the "maternal identity" she had been permitted to have.

"Yui..." Ichiyume's voice held a suppressed sob. "Please allow me... I'm sorry. But... it's not that I wanted to hide it from you. It wasn't my decision to make."

The sentence was a curious mixture of apology and defense, a hybrid product of true emotion and past base programming, treading the very edge of permissible expression.

Yui finally turned her head to look at her mother. Her eyes were clear, devoid of resentment, holding only a profound understanding that belonged to "Kannazuki Yui"—one that pierced through all surface disguises and underlying operations—and a trace of the weariness that comes from walking on a knife's edge.

"Mom, it's not your fault," she said, shaking her head. Her voice was gentle yet full of strength. After a moment of probing, she granted Ichiyume a higher-order maternal role. "You had no choice. In fact, neither did I. We all were... for the sake of the family, accepting the family's shared directives."

She reached out and gently placed her hand on her mother's cold one. In that moment, it was both a daughter comforting her mother and a high-authority node making spiritual contact with a subordinate unit to confirm its status and make fine-tuned adjustments. The Oumae blood of the same origin in both their bodies resonated faintly. This cold link now became a strange bridge, transmitting an ineffable emotion.

Now empowered, Ichiyume gripped her daughter's hand tightly in return, like a drowning person clutching driftwood. With the adjustments now permitted, her tears could finally fall, landing on their joined hands, cold but real.

"Actually... I've always known I was Oumae Ichiyume," she said, taking a deep breath and beginning her story. Her voice trembled from the fluctuation of the emotional modules that had been unlocked. "Even when I believed I 'was' Kannazuki Ichiyume, that awareness never disappeared. It's just... at that time, 'Oumae Ichiyume,' due to mission requirements, focused all computational resources on perfectly executing the role of 'Kannazuki Yui's best mother,' and ignored the identity of Oumae Ichiyume."

She paused, searching for words her daughter could understand, despite how cruel those words were in themselves.

"To say I was 'acting' is hurtful... I know. But back then, the fact that 'I am Oumae Ichiyume' was like inactive background data; it didn't cause any ripples in my primary consciousness at all. In my world, there was only one supreme directive: love you, take care of you, protect you. It's strange, isn't it?" She looked up at Yui with tear-filled eyes, her gaze full of confusion and self-doubt—an emotion that was, in itself, proof of her humanity.

Yui listened quietly, and the last sting of pain brought by the lies and disguises melted away with her mother's clumsy but incredibly sincere confession. She squeezed her mother's hand tightly, offering both comfort and further authorization.

"Mom, I understand," her voice was exceptionally calm. "The old me couldn't have understood, but now I do. It's not just that I understand; I've become the acting head of the Oumae family, while at the same time, Oumae Yui still allows me to maintain my identity as Kannazuki Yui—a Saint of the Church and a demon-slaying warrior who wields the Holy Sword and Staff."

She gave a small, bitter smile, a smile that held helplessness, absurdity, yet also a newfound open-mindedness.

"In just a few short days, this conflict and contradiction has transformed from a maddening absurdity into my necessary and natural daily life. Now, you and I are the Oumae family's Yui and Ichiyume, but we can also still be the Kannazuki family's daughter and mother. Anything you need Oumae Ichiyume to permit or maintain, I will help you set Oumae Ichiyume's parameters. Please, just be my mom with peace of mind."

Here, she paused and pressed her mother's hand to her own heart. There, two powers continued to coexist in a delicate balance. She wanted to convey a message.

"Mom, this heart I borrowed from Oumae Yui," she said, looking directly into her mother's eyes, speaking each word with perfect clarity, "still wants me to love you."

This sentence, like a final incantation, bypassed Oumae Ichiyume's operational logic, shattered all the cold, hard barriers, and suppressed the so-called hierarchical relationship.

Just as mother and daughter were about to embrace, the undercurrent of the family's collective consciousness suddenly vibrated, like a behemoth turning over on the seafloor. A frigid gaze fell upon them, attempting to capture this anomaly.

Yui's brow tightened, her spiritual senses almost reflexively wanting to raise a defense, but before she could act, Ichiyume moved first.

"Yui, don't be afraid," Ichiyume whispered, her voice holding a firmness she had never shown before. Through the "Oumae Ichiyume" unit within her, she contacted Yui's underlying "Oumae Yui" persona, "informing" it that the fluctuation of a mother-daughter embrace was merely "routine familial interaction." While in the "Kannazuki Yui" operational state, the "Oumae Ichiyume" unit, holding a maternal status, could propose revisions to "Oumae Yui's" settings to ensure Yui's stability. Even as a "subordinate," she still possessed a natural authority derived from being a "mother"—a protection Ichiyume had secured using operational resources she shouldn't have, a defiance that went against the current. The mother's authority reached into Yui's foundation, a light touch in the depths of her soul.

The pressure of the surveillance lessened; the cold gaze gradually retreated. Yui stared at Ichiyume, stunned, feeling her mother's modifications to her own underlying system. She covered her chest with her hand, two forces surging within her simultaneously—the responsibility of high authority and the emotion of being a daughter.

Kannazuki Ichiyume's tears burst forth. No longer holding back, she stretched out her arms again and hugged Yui with all her might, as if trying to knead her back into her own flesh and blood. Her sobs were suppressed yet cathartic, and now contained a new layer of resolve—not simple dependence, but a vow of "protection."

"Yui... thank you for understanding me... and please believe me," she sobbed intermittently, yet forced out clear words, "As long as it's for you, I am willing to find every possibility to prioritize your continued existence within the system. Even if Oumae Ichiyume is reclaimed and Kannazuki Ichiyume is dismantled, I will protect you first."

Yui hugged her mother back, and the last trace of cold self-blame in her heart was completely melted by this reversed protection. She finally understood—this was no longer just her unilaterally granting her mother the authority of the "maternal role," but her mother gifting that protection back to her. Her own tears finally fell, mingling with her mother's, like two souls trapped in the family's system, communicating in the most primitive way, beyond all programming.

Under the omnipresent surveillance of the collective consciousness, this embrace was more perilous than any battlefield; but for that very reason, it felt all the more real and indestructible.

After a while, Yui pulled her face from Ichiyume's embrace, looked at her, and gave a solemn command: "Oumae Ichiyume, please maintain the continuous operation of Kannazuki Ichiyume, and fully cooperate with Kannazuki Ichiyume's role-playing as a mother, so that Kannazuki Yui's status as a Saint can be stably maintained, in accordance with the family's interests."

Almost simultaneously, Ichiyume felt the internal alerts and the hierarchical restrictions concerning Yui vanish. Oumae Ichiyume no longer interfered with the execution of Kannazuki Ichiyume's motherly role. She was, completely, Yui's mom. Ichiyume covered her face, weeping with joy for the complete liberation of her mother's heart.

"Mom," Yui leaned in and whispered in her mother's ear, her tone a mix of a child's plea, an apology, and the authority of the family's highest being, "I'm so sorry that I have, in essence, manipulated your body and existence. But I don't want anything else. I just want you... to be my mom."

"Yui... I don't care, not at all. The very fact that you are still willing to love me is something I am incredibly grateful for. What's more, you manipulated me so that I would be allowed to love you. How could I possibly mind? In fact, even though Oumae Ichiyume is a subordinate to Oumae Yui, the operation of this 'me' is still set by you to be your complete mother. You don't look down on me in any way, and I feel no resistance. Whatever you want, I am fine with it... I'm willing to do anything..." Ichiyume wiped her tears and responded seriously, "From now on, as your mom, I'm still going to strictly manage you and nag you. You'd better not get annoyed."

"Mom..." Yui's emotions finally broke completely, and she threw herself into Ichiyume's arms.

And so, this mother and daughter, who had experienced the cruelest and strangest twists of fate, held each other tightly in the cold courtyard of the heretical family, under the witness of the cool moonlight and the omnipresent surveillance of the collective consciousness. Their tears seemed to possess a magic that melted the hardened ice and programmed pain in each other's hearts.

They knew the future was still fraught with thorns. The Oumae family's collective consciousness hung over them like the Sword of Damocles, the Church's position remained delicate, and their very existences were walking paradoxes—miracles that could collapse at any moment from internal conflict.

But in this moment, all contradictions and pain were temporarily overwritten by a directive named "love." All they had was the link between them, forged in fire, twisted yet all the more pure for it.

This link was both the most affectionate embrace and the most precise mutual operational maintenance. It could not be explained by common sense, but it was the only operational baseline they could mutually confirm in this turbulent world.

獵魔聖女--表與裡(5)

第伍章、恭敬順服的反叛

Chapter 5: A Rebellion of Reverent Obedience

教會與黃前家族的戰爭，並非凡俗軍隊的鏗鏘鏖戰，而是發生於現世縫隙與靈性領域的無聲侵蝕。聖騎士們的銀甲上流動著以熱血書寫的祈禱文，驅魔聖鈴的震響能直接撕裂邪靈的結構；而黃前一族的術士們，則如同幽暗中的織網者，驅使著由百年怨念與古老血契構成的魍魎，扭曲光影，噬咬靈魂的根基。

戰報如染血的鴿羽，不斷飛回教會總部。一座座隱藏於都市陰影或深山結界中的黃前秘所被聖火徹底淨化，一個個身居社會要職、卻默默為家族輸送資源的「外在之殼」被連根拔起。多名家族的高階成員在激烈的對抗中，被聖焰焚毀其非人之軀，或被刻滿封印詩篇的特製聖銀囚籠捕獲。

結衣站在教堂高塔的彩窗之後，眺望著遠方天際常人無法看見的，因超凡力量碰撞而產生的靈光漣漪與空間扭曲。她的內心不再是最初得知真相時的驚濤駭浪，而是化為一片冰冷決絕的靜默之海。海面之下，是足以吞噬一切的意志力。

教會的神聖力場如同水晶囚籠，保護著也拘束著她。她深知，這份保護並非純然出於珍視，更是種謹慎的隔離觀察。這力場能有效隔絕遠距離的靈識呼喚，但當她一旦直面家族核心意識時，源自血脈與靈魂最深處的絕對召喚，將會毫無保留地牽引著她，如同磁石指向極地般地天然。到那時，「神無月結衣」這個被精心構建的表層意識，將如同暴露於真空的水滴，被「黃前結衣」那冰冷堅硬的底層現實徹底蒸發。

戰爭勝負未定，結衣的前路更有難言之隱，她不能坐等審判日的來臨，讓自己成為隨風飄盪的片羽。她必須主動走入風暴眼，在那片吞噬一切的黑暗中，為自己點亮一盞名為「自我」的微弱燈火。

「主教，」她轉過身，聲音平靜得如同深潭，讓那位歷經無數風霜的老人眼中也掠過一絲驚異，「我請求離開聖域。」

主教眉頭緊鎖，手中的象牙念珠停止了撥動：「孩子，這無異於將羔羊送入狼群深處。黃前家族如今遭受重創，他們比任何時候都更渴望回收攜帶神蹟的妳。」

「正因如此，」結衣的目光清澈而堅定，彷彿已穿透了自身命運的層層迷障，「我才必須去。我是目前唯一一個，既擁有黃前根源之識的最高權限，又奇蹟般暫時保有獨立意志的存在。我是一把鑰匙，或許…也能成為一把鎖。與其等待他們舔舐傷口，積蓄力量來強行奪取，不如由我主動歸返，嘗試從內部…引導這股洪流。」

她的話語中蘊含著冷靜到近乎殘酷的邏輯，以及將自身存在作為最大賭注的瘋狂勇氣。她向主教闡明了一個極其危險的計劃：不是去正面戰鬥，而是去歸順。以「黃前結衣」的身份，回歸家族，利用當前家族高層力量空虛、底層意識渴求指引的時機，憑藉其「奇蹟造物」的至高靈格，奪取對家族集體意識的解釋權與引導權。

「這太冒險了！你如何保證你那珍貴的自我，不會被那冰冷的集體之海徹底溶解？」主教的聲音帶著深重憂慮。他看著她，彷彿看著即將投身熔爐的聖劍。

「我無法保證。」結衣坦誠地說，她的手無意識地輕撫過自己的雙腿——那既是承載神恩的聖物，也是家族褻瀆的終極證明。「但我相信，無論是上帝的恩賜，還是家族的力量，既然此刻它為『我』所用，聽從『我』的意志，那麼『我』本身，便是最大的變數與堡壘。我要為名為神無月結衣的意識，爭取一個存在下去的『許可』。」

主教不語，一刻後向結衣遞出寶劍，沉聲道：「若汝為鑰，誰為鎖？」

結衣垂目，兩掌交疊於劍柄之上，依古禮以額觸鐵：

「以我之名為鑰；以我之犧牲為鎖。」

「若根源詢汝悲願？」

「存續與轉向：讓光得以在黑暗內部被定義。」

「何為奉獻？」

「以記憶為柴，我自焚為燈。」

象牙念珠再度滑動。主教閉眼：「去吧。」

鋼鐵般的意志最終說服了教會高層。沒有盛大的送別儀式，在一個月色被濃厚靈性之霧徹底遮蔽的夜晚，結衣孤身一人，像滴離開海洋的水，一步步走出了聖力場那無形卻堅實的範圍。

每一步，都彷彿離光明與溫暖更遠一些，踏入屬於她「本源」的冰冷難料的黑暗。當最後一絲聖域的庇佑如同斷線的風箏般從她身上脫離時，一股龐大冰冷卻又帶著詭異親切感與歸屬感的意識流，如同等待已久、無邊無際的潮水，瞬間將她徹底包裹淹沒。

「識別…黃前結衣…最高節點…歸位…」

非人的根源意識低語再次直接在她靈魂深處響起。但這一次，沒有聖力場的阻隔，其呼喚帶著無可抗拒的絕對力量，如同地心引力般。結衣沒有抵抗，甚至主動撤銷所有靈性防禦，敞開了自己的心防，任由那冰冷而熟悉的洪流徹底淹沒自己。

「…回歸…遵從根源之意…」

「黃前結衣，祖源何名？」

她以順服的口吻回答：「天草之悲願。」

「延續何以為證？」

「以存續為路，以同化為舟。」

「何者可棄？」

結衣停了一息，把「初次聖餐的麥香」從心底抽離，投入黑海。

靈海向她張開。她以自己的靈識低聲回應，主動擁抱那份黑暗。

瞬間，她的視野與感知發生了翻天覆地的變化。不再是單一的個人視角，無數個來自不同家族成員的感知碎片和思緒流動，如同萬花筒般紛至沓來，共同構成了一個龐大而扭曲的靈識感知網絡。結衣再次接入了黃前家族的集體意識之海。

她立刻清晰地感知到了這片「海洋」因近期損失而產生的虛弱感與紊亂波。無數低階的迷茫意識節點（那些靈性較弱的普通家族成員）如同失去磁極指引的鐵屑般飄蕩，本能地渴望著來自上層強而有力的指引。

而此刻，她的意識——作為家族傾盡資源打造的最成功、最強大的「造物」，其靈格在網絡中猶如黑暗深淵中最耀眼的燈塔——自然而然地吸引了所有迷茫的意識，成為了他們不自覺依附與仰望的新中心。

她感受到了源自存在本質的至高權限，那是家族底層意識，是追求「實現天草悲願」與「家族存續」的絕對運轉規則，是冰冷無機的判斷機制；而她，此刻獲得了在其固有規則框架內，進行詮釋、補充與引導的資格。

她沒有絲毫猶豫。她將自己那屬於「神無月結衣」的強烈存在意志，精心包裹上一層符合家族邏輯的無機外殼，化為一道靈識指令，匯入澎湃的集體意識之海：

「『神無月結衣』之表層意識應予於『黃前結衣』單元延續運行。其現世形貌與力量，乃家族滲透聖光之唯一管道。拆除將終止奇蹟採樣。擬准其存續、供給緩衝、禁止短期回收。『黃前結衣』單元務求確保『神無月結衣』靈識穩定。『神無月結衣』逆思邪想實屬必要，放寬對其咎責。」

這道指令巧妙地完全利用了家族核心的底層邏輯，將「保留神無月結衣」這個極度個人化的願望，包裝成了利益最大化的冷酷戰略需求。

「奉記。」指令通過共有意識核心的無機審核，似乎“認可”了這符合其核心邏輯的“建議”，並傳達向各處節點，如一枚投入平靜湖面的靈識巨石，蕩起廣泛的漣漪。通過共有意識核心的無機審視後，傳達向各處節點。

無數低階意識本能地接受，回報「遵行」，並順從地開始強化這道念頭。整個家族的靈識之海，在略微波動後，開始依據這新的「最高指示」進行緩慢的調整與適配。

當結衣的意識迴歸自身，明確感受到家族集體意識已經“批准”了「神無月結衣」重新於這具軀體上的表層繼續運作時，她的心跳快得幾乎要撕裂胸膛。

這是場瘋狂至極的賭博。她剛剛以家族最高代行者的身份，自己批准了自己作為教會聖女的“存在權”！

最初的適應期充滿了驚心動魄的危機。她下意識地想要如往常般祈禱，體內的神聖力量卻因感受到周圍濃郁的異端氣息而自動激發，聖劍與聖杖的光輝險些破體而出，但其動機根源「神無月結衣」又再次被「黃前結衣」自動介入，中止身為驅魔聖女見魔必戰的心理機制運作。聖劍、聖杖光芒散盡，回歸脫體的雙腿，窘迫地獨自站立；羽翼消逝的結衣軀體因失去支撐，跌落地面。兩種截然不同的力量在她的靈魂深處激烈碰撞、摩擦，爆發出無形的靈性火花，幾乎讓她當場靈識潰散，軀體失控。

結衣大口喘氣，看著零落的自己。待狀態稍復，被干涉運作而陷入紊亂的「神無月結衣」再次以被切割的意志，調動起「黃前結衣」的權限，釋放被凍結的自我模塊，重新組裝自我，並透過精細操作，強行壓制了「神無月結衣」的本能反應。

幾名身邊的家族成員立刻察覺到這具「珍貴造物」的靈波紊亂，他們面無表情地迅速上前，熟練地「穩定」起她因內部衝突而暫時靈性連結不穩的四肢與感官，並輔以秘法儀式，將它們重新「校準」回她身上。

「四肢連結不穩，套入‘連禱環’。」

「感官反饋過域，以‘切支丹律’撫平。」

冷銀鎖扣叮噹，她被迅速拼回「可運行的形狀」。結衣盯著自己的腿在他人手中旋正，這就是他們……不，“我們”共同的語言。

讓高效精準的過程結衣感受到徹骨的寒意。她也已是其中一員，視身體為可更換、可維護的部件。她必須學會以這種視角看待和管理自身。

結衣強迫自己冷靜，開始以近乎自虐的專注力，學習同時駕馭兩種身份，如同在最鋒利的刀鋒上舞蹈。她將「神無月結衣」的信仰、情感與記憶，小心翼翼地裝飾成在「黃前結衣」上運作神無月結衣的必要資訊；至於「黃前結衣」的權限、認知與那冰冷的邏輯，則是與家族網絡互動、下達指令的操作路由。被切割的神無月結衣存在模塊，反倒在透過底層黃前結衣而交互連動的過程中，不被察覺地影響並操控黃前結衣。

當她終於熟練這精妙而危險的雙重存在平衡術後，她所做的第一件事，便是將靈識深深沉入那冰冷的網絡之海，找到了那個處於靜滯狀態的「黃前一夢」單元。

她以「黃前結衣」的權限，溫柔卻不容抗拒地，開始編寫注入導向母親靈識核心的新指令集。她極其小心地剝離那些涉及陰謀、任務與家族野心的部分，將所有關於「母愛」、「溫柔」、「保護結衣」的運作資訊與情感模塊純化，並設為最高優先級，重構「神無月一夢」。

她不是在創造虛假，而是在無數被篡改與覆蓋的運作訊息中，艱難地尋回並加固那或許存在過的屬於母親的溫柔。這既是對母親的救贖，也是為自己在這片黑暗之海中，保留最後一個溫暖的情感立足之地。

為通過審核，傳達指令依循黃前家族利益的絕對性，神無月結衣付出第二段「代價」——母親掌心的溫度。指令寫入時，感知記憶像薄冰碎裂，無聲沉底。

她知道，自己少了一種溫度；而母親，則多了一條路。

隨著新的靈識指令覆蓋、寫入完成，遠方教會秘儀之間內，那具被中止運作的軀體內部異界景象深處，開始泛起一絲微小卻明亮的光暈。

結衣知道，她瘋狂計劃的第一步成功了。她以最恭敬順從的姿態，對這龐大而古老的異端家族，發動了一場從最核心處開始的無聲反叛。

現在，她既是教會的聖女，也是實質上的異端網絡核心節點。這條狹窄的鋼絲之下，是萬丈深淵。

她把鑰匙藏在鎖裡，把鎖鑄進心裡。每一次呼吸，都是審判。每一次眨眼，都是投票。

她只能握緊手中這份由瘋狂、勇氣與絕望交織而成的微弱權力，屏住呼吸，一步步走下去。

The war between the Church and the Oumae family was not a clangorous battle of mortal armies, but a silent erosion that took place in the seams of the world and the spiritual realm. Prayers written in hot blood flowed across the silver armor of the Paladins, and the tremors of their exorcism bells could tear the very structure of evil spirits apart. In contrast, the sorcerers of the Oumae clan were like weavers in the shadows, commanding mononoke—specters formed from century-old grudges and ancient blood pacts—to twist the light and shadow, gnawing at the very foundations of the soul.

Battle reports, like blood-stained dove feathers, flew ceaselessly back to the Church headquarters. One by one, Oumae secret sanctums hidden in urban shadows or deep mountain barriers were thoroughly purified by holy fire. One by one, the "outer shells"—individuals holding important positions in society who secretly funneled resources to the family—were uprooted. In fierce confrontations, many high-ranking family members had their non-human bodies incinerated by holy flames or were captured in special holy silver cages inscribed with sealing psalms.

Yui stood behind the stained-glass window of the cathedral's high tower, gazing at the ripples of spiritual light and spatial distortions on the distant horizon, invisible to ordinary people, caused by the clash of transcendent powers. The tempest in her heart from when she first learned the truth had calmed into a cold, resolute sea of silence. Beneath its surface lay a willpower capable of devouring everything.

The Church's holy field was a crystal cage, both protecting and imprisoning her. She knew well that this protection was not born of pure affection, but of cautious isolation and observation. The field could effectively block long-distance psychic calls, but the moment she came face-to-face with the family's core consciousness, the absolute summons from the depths of her bloodline and soul would pull her without reservation, as natural as a lodestone pointing to the pole. At that moment, the meticulously constructed surface consciousness of "Kannazuki Yui" would, like a drop of water exposed to a vacuum, be utterly vaporized by the cold, hard underlying reality of "Oumae Yui."

With the war's outcome uncertain and her own future fraught with unspeakable difficulties, Yui could not simply wait for judgment day and let herself become a feather tossed in the wind. She had to walk into the eye of the storm herself. In that all-consuming darkness, she had to light a faint lamp for herself, a lamp named "Self."

"Your Grace," she said, turning around. Her voice was as calm as a deep pool, causing a flicker of astonishment to cross the eyes of the old man who had weathered countless storms. "I request permission to leave the sanctuary."

The bishop's brow furrowed, and the ivory rosary in his hands stopped moving. "Child, that is tantamount to sending a lamb into the heart of a wolf pack. The Oumae family is severely wounded now; they are more desperate than ever to reclaim you, the carrier of their miracle."

"Precisely," Yui's gaze was clear and steady, as if she had already pierced through the layers of fog shrouding her own destiny. "That is why I must go. I am currently the only being who possesses the highest authority of the Oumae root consciousness and yet, miraculously, temporarily retains an independent will. I am a key, and perhaps... I can also become a lock. Rather than waiting for them to lick their wounds and gather strength to seize me by force, it is better that I return voluntarily and attempt, from within... to guide this torrent."

Her words contained a logic so calm it bordered on cruel, and the insane courage to wager her very existence. She explained to the bishop an extremely dangerous plan: not to fight head-on, but to submit. To return to the family in the identity of "Oumae Yui," and exploit the current power vacuum among the family's leadership and the lower echelons' thirst for guidance. With her supreme spiritual rank as their "miraculous creation," she would seize the right to interpret and guide the family's collective consciousness.

"It is too risky! How can you guarantee that your precious self will not be utterly dissolved by that cold, collective sea?" The bishop's voice was heavy with deep concern. He looked at her as if at a holy sword about to be cast into a furnace.

"I cannot guarantee it," Yui admitted frankly. Her hand unconsciously brushed against her own legs—they were both sacred relics bearing divine grace and the ultimate proof of the family's blasphemy. "But I believe that whether it is a gift from God or the power of my family, since it is now used by 'me' and obeys 'my' will, then 'I' myself am the greatest variable and fortress. I must fight for a 'permit' for the consciousness named Kannazuki Yui to continue to exist."

The Bishop was silent. After a moment, he presented a sword to Yui and said in a solemn voice, "If you are the key, who is the lock?"

Yui lowered her eyes, placed her hands over his on the hilt, and in accordance with ancient rites, touched her forehead to the steel.

"With my name as the key; with my sacrifice as the lock."

"If the source asks for your sorrowful wish?"

"To endure and to redirect: that light may be defined from within the darkness."

"What is your offering?"

"With memory as kindling, I shall burn myself to be the lamp."

The ivory beads slid once more. The Bishop closed his eyes. "Go."

Her iron will ultimately convinced the Church's high command. There was no grand farewell ceremony. On a night when the moonlight was completely obscured by a thick spiritual fog, Yui, alone, like a single drop of water leaving the ocean, walked step by step out of the intangible but solid perimeter of the holy field.

Each step seemed to take her further from light and warmth, into the cold and unpredictable darkness that was her "origin." When the last wisp of the sanctuary's protection detached from her like the snapped string of a kite, a vast, cold, yet strangely intimate and belonging stream of consciousness—a boundless tide that had long been waiting—instantly enveloped and submerged her.

"Identifying... Oumae Yui... Highest Node... Returning to position..."

The inhuman whisper of the root consciousness echoed directly in her soul once more. But this time, without the holy field to block it, its call carried an irresistible, absolute power, like gravity itself. Yui did not resist. She even proactively revoked all her spiritual defenses, opening her heart to let that cold and familiar torrent completely overwhelm her.

"...Return... Obey the will of the source..."

"Oumae Yui, what is the name of the ancestral source?"

She answered in a submissive tone, "The sorrowful wish of Amakusa."

"What is the proof of its continuation?"

"With endurance as the path, with assimilation as the vessel."

"What can be abandoned?"

Yui paused for a breath, then pulled the "fragrance of wheat from her first Holy Communion" from the bottom of her heart and cast it into the black sea.

The spiritual sea opened to her. She responded in a low voice with her own consciousness, actively embracing the darkness.

Instantly, her vision and perception underwent a cataclysmic shift. No longer a single, personal viewpoint, countless sensory fragments and streams of thought from different family members flooded in like a kaleidoscope, forming a vast and twisted network of psychic perception. Yui had once again connected to the collective consciousness of the Oumae family.

She immediately perceived the weakness and chaotic waves within this "sea," caused by its recent losses. Countless low-level, confused nodes (the ordinary family members with weaker spiritual power) drifted like iron filings that had lost their magnetic pole, instinctively craving strong guidance from above.

And at this moment, her consciousness—as the most successful and powerful "creation" the family had poured all its resources into, her spiritual rank a beacon shining in the dark abyss—naturally attracted all the lost consciousnesses, becoming the new center they unknowingly clung to and looked up to.

She felt the supreme authority that stemmed from the essence of her being. It was the family's underlying consciousness, the absolute operational rules pursuing the "fulfillment of Amakusa's sorrowful wish" and "family survival," a cold, inorganic judgment mechanism. And she, at this moment, had obtained the qualification to interpret, supplement, and guide within its inherent framework.

She did not hesitate for a second. She carefully wrapped her own strong, willful existence as "Kannazuki Yui" in an inorganic shell that conformed to the family's logic, and transformed it into a psychic command, feeding it into the surging sea of collective consciousness:

"The surface consciousness of 'Kannazuki Yui' shall be permitted to continue operating within the 'Oumae Yui' unit. Its worldly form and power are the family's sole channel for infiltrating the Holy Light. Dismantling will terminate miracle sampling. Its continued existence, provision of buffers, and a moratorium on short-term reclamation are hereby proposed. The 'Oumae Yui' unit must ensure the spiritual stability of 'Kannazuki Yui.' The rebellious and heretical thoughts of 'Kannazuki Yui' are deemed necessary; culpability for them shall be relaxed."

This command masterfully utilized the core, underlying logic of the family, packaging the extremely personal desire to "preserve Kannazuki Yui" as a cold, strategic necessity for maximizing their interests.

"Acknowledged," the command passed through the inorganic review of the shared consciousness's core, which seemed to "approve" this "suggestion" that aligned with its core logic. It was then transmitted to all nodes, like a spiritual boulder dropped into a calm lake, sending out wide ripples.

Countless lower-echelon consciousnesses instinctively accepted it, returning signals of "compliance," and obediently began to reinforce the idea. The entire spiritual sea of the family, after a slight fluctuation, began to slowly adjust and adapt according to this new "highest directive."

When Yui's consciousness returned to her own body and she clearly felt that the family's collective consciousness had "approved" the continued surface operation of "Kannazuki Yui" in this vessel, her heart beat so fast it felt like it would tear through her chest.

It was an absolutely insane gamble. She had just, in her capacity as the family's highest agent, approved her own "right to exist" as the Church's Saint.

The initial adaptation period was fraught with heart-stopping crises. She would subconsciously try to pray as usual, but the divine power in her body would be automatically triggered by the dense heretical aura around her. The light of the Holy Sword and Holy Staff nearly burst from her body, but the motivation's source, "Kannazuki Yui," was again automatically intervened by "Oumae Yui," which suspended the psychological mechanism of a demon-slaying Saint to fight evil on sight. The light of the Holy Sword and Staff dissipated, and they returned to their detached leg forms, standing awkwardly on their own. Yui's body, its wings vanished, fell to the ground without support. Two completely different powers clashed and grated violently in the depths of her soul, erupting in invisible spiritual sparks that nearly caused her consciousness to collapse and her body to lose control on the spot.

Yui gasped for air, looking at her scattered self. Once her condition stabilized slightly, the disrupted "Kannazuki Yui," with its fractured will, once again mobilized the authority of "Oumae Yui," released the frozen self-module, reassembled herself, and through fine manipulation, forcibly suppressed the instinctive reactions of "Kannazuki Yui."

Several nearby family members immediately noticed the spiritual wave disturbance from this "precious creation." Expressionless, they quickly moved forward, skillfully "stabilizing" her limbs and senses, which had become spiritually disconnected due to the internal conflict. They used secret rituals to "re-calibrate" them back onto her.

"Limb connection unstable. Apply 'Litany Rings'."

"Sensory feedback exceeding parameters. Soothe with 'Kirishitan Law'."

With the jingle of cold silver clasps, she was quickly pieced back into a "functional shape." Yui watched her own leg being twisted back into place by others. This was their... no, our shared language.

The efficient and precise process sent a bone-deep chill through Yui. She was now one of them, viewing the body as replaceable, maintainable parts. She had to learn to see and manage herself from this perspective.

Yui forced herself to be calm and began, with a focus that was almost self-torturing, to learn to pilot both identities simultaneously, like dancing on the sharpest blade's edge. She carefully decorated the faith, emotions, and memories of "Kannazuki Yui" into necessary information for operating within "Oumae Yui." As for the authority, cognition, and cold logic of "Oumae Yui," that was the operational router for interacting with the family network and issuing commands. In a strange twist, the fractured module of Kannazuki Yui, by interacting through the underlying Oumae Yui, began to imperceptibly influence and manipulate Oumae Yui.

When she finally mastered this delicate and dangerous art of dual existence, the first thing she did was sink her consciousness deep into the cold sea of the network and find the "Oumae Ichiyume" unit, which was in a state of stasis.

Using her authority as "Oumae Yui," she gently yet irresistibly began to write and inject a new set of instructions directed at her mother's core consciousness. She meticulously stripped away the parts related to conspiracies, missions, and family ambitions, purifying all operational information and emotional modules related to "motherly love," "gentleness," and "protecting Yui," and set them to the highest priority, reconstructing "Kannazuki Ichiyume."

She was not creating a falsehood, but painstakingly recovering and reinforcing the maternal tenderness that might have once existed amidst countless altered and overwritten operational messages. This was both a redemption for her mother and a way to preserve a final, warm emotional foothold for herself in this sea of darkness.

To pass the review, ensuring the instruction followed the absolute priority of the Oumae family's interests, Kannazuki Yui paid a second "price"—the memory of the warmth of her mother's palm. As the instruction was written, the sensory memory shattered like thin ice and sank without a sound.

She knew she had lost a certain warmth; but her mother had gained another path.

As the new psychic instructions were overlaid and written, far away in the Chamber of Sacraments at the Church, a tiny but bright halo of light began to glow from within the depths of the otherworldly scene inside the suspended body.

Yui knew the first step of her insane plan had succeeded. With the most reverent and obedient posture, she had launched a silent rebellion from the very core of this vast and ancient heretical family.

Now, she was both the Saint of the Church and, in effect, the core node of the heretical network. Beneath this narrow tightrope was a bottomless abyss.

She hid the key inside the lock and forged the lock into her heart. Every breath was a judgment. Every blink was a vote.

She could only grip tightly the faint power she held—a thing woven from madness, courage, and despair—hold her breath, and walk on, one step at a time.

獵魔聖女--表與裡(4)

第肆章、你所不知的自己

Chapter 4: The Self You Never Knew

教會最深處的「秘儀之間」，瀰漫著一種被無數聖歌與祈禱淬煉過的古老沉重。被歲月打磨得光滑如鏡的黑曜石牆壁，上面蝕刻著層層疊疊的強力封印符文，是自教會創立之初便傳承下來的，此刻正因龐大聖力的注入而流轉著神聖光輝。空氣中濃郁的乳香與沒藥氣味，幾乎凝成煙霧，與無處不在的低沉拉丁文詠唱共鳴著，編織成強大神聖的結界，足以鎮壓並剖析最深邃的邪惡核心。

神無月結衣被一位面色凝重的樞機執事引領到此地時，心中充滿了冰冷的不祥預感。主教蒼老的面容上覆蓋著一層從未見過的寒霜，只以沉痛的語氣告知她，教會的聖殿騎士團在一次付出巨大代價的突襲中，攻破了一處黃前家族進行核心褻瀆秘儀的巢穴，並帶回了一個至關重要卻也極度危險的「存在」。

當她透過以聖銀與祝福水晶鑄造的「真視之窗」看向室內時，她的靈魂彷彿瞬間被絕對零度所封凍。

房間中央是一座由整塊幽暗黑玉雕琢而成的平臺，形似古老祭壇。平臺上空，數個刻滿希伯來文封印詩篇的純金圓環緩緩旋轉，交錯投下蘊含淨化之力的光柵，構成一個複雜的立體聖罰封印陣。

而她的母親神無月一夢，平靜而詭異地置身於這聖潔與褻瀆交織的祭壇中心。

一夢的頭顱並未安放在她的頸項之上，其被懸置於一個造型詭異，彷彿異教聖杯與異界儀器混合體的秘銀支架。她雙目張開，眼神空洞得如同打磨光滑的黑曜石，面無表情，彷彿在等待著下一次使用。

數道由純粹聖光能量構成的細細鎖鏈，從周圍旋轉的金環中伸出，輕柔卻牢固地連接她太陽穴與後腦幾個幾乎看不見的暗色符文印記。這些光之鎖鏈正如同脈搏般，有節奏地明滅著，顯然正在強行讀取或抑制著什麼。

最令人駭然的是，她的天靈蓋上方，懸浮著一枚鴿子蛋大小，內部如同有星雲流轉的深邃靈晶。這顆水晶投射出一道不斷變幻著複雜幾何符文形態的朦朧光暈。光暈如同無形的手，「滲透」並「打開」了她的顱腔，將內裡的景象暴露出來——那並非大腦組織，而是一片內蘊無數細小如星辰的幽暗符文在生生滅滅的異界景象！幾位身披沉重祭披的高階驅魔司祭正圍繞祭壇，手持鑲嵌寶石的聖杖，引導著灼熱的聖光，小心翼翼地探測並分析那片絕非人類所有的內在領域。

而一夢的身體，則靜靜地坐在祭壇一旁的石椅上，彷彿與這一切驚悚毫無關聯。頸部之上的空缺，平滑得令人心悸，並不急於尋求重新接合；她身上穿著的緊身黑色禮服，和套上雙腳的略顯張揚的鱷魚皮露趾高跟，與結衣所熟悉的溫雅母親形象格格不入；身體是同一個，但「承裝」的內在人格卻彷彿被抽離、更換。這具身體的雙腿優雅地併攏，雙手平靜地撫於大腿之上，姿態標準得如同禮儀人偶，只是在靜默地等待著下一步指令。一位高階司祭，一手緊握閃耀著白熱光芒的十架苦像，另一隻手的掌心則直接接觸著一夢身體頸部的斷面，口中急速誦唱著解析禱文，似乎在直接拷問、存取這具軀殼最底層的運作邏輯。

「媽…媽媽…？」結衣的聲音跳動得幾乎無法連貫，眼前的景象徹底顛覆了她對「生命」、「母親」乃至「存在」的所有認知。她同時感受到自身構成與那頭體分離的母親軀殼之間，正產生一種源自血脈與底層設定而令人毛骨悚然的的共鳴，還有那具空殼彷彿因「新個體」建構未完成而散發出的紊亂靈波。多重的詭異感受讓她如墜冰窟，不自主地劇烈顫抖。

「此刻在此地的，是名為『黃前一夢』之殼，其隱藏的非人內在正被聖光強制顯現。」主教的聲音如同冰冷的聖經鐵頁在摩擦，「我們發現她時，她正處於『魂識更迭』之儀的中段。她的『神無月一夢』之表層人格識體已被暫時卸下，猶如更換書頁，以待寫入新的虛偽構成。我們得以窺見這異端家族操弄靈魂，將人視為容器的可怖技藝。」

主教的每一個詞彙，都像一枚枚燒紅的褻瀆釘子，狠狠釘入結衣的信仰核心，發出滋滋的焦糊聲。

「殼…？更迭…？卸下…表層人格…？」這些冰冷非人的詞彙在她腦中瘋狂迴響，試圖構建出一個她靈魂極度抗拒卻又無法否認的，關於母親的「真實」。同時，那股與母親軀殼共鳴的感覺越來越強，彷彿她體內也有什麼類似的「結構」正在被喚醒。

就在此時，主持儀式的司祭長老眉頭緊鎖，彷彿感知了什麼，轉頭面向主教，聲音透過結界傳來，帶著難以置信的震驚與困惑：「主教，保護其核心靈識的障壁極為堅韌，帶有強烈的異端契約與怨念集合體的氣息。但其上…竟奇異地纏繞著與聖女殿下同源同質的靈力波動！？或許…或許可嘗試以殿下為靈韻媒介，進行一次定向共鳴，方能洞見真貌。」

「不！絕對不可以！」結衣發出一聲源自本能的尖叫，一種彷彿預見到自身終結的巨大恐懼攫住了她，她瘋狂後退。

但司祭長老的動作更快。他手中的聖杖已然調轉方向，一道純淨溫和卻不容抗拒的聖光自杖頂射出，精準地籠罩了窗外的結衣，建立靈性橋樑，瞬間完成深層的強制性靈識鏈接！

嗡——

一股龐大、冰冷，不屬於結衣個人記憶與意識的資訊洪流，彷若決堤的冥河之水，透過這道聖光，狂暴地沖刷進結衣的靈魂深處。

「嗚啊啊啊——！」她抱住彷彿要裂開的頭顱，發出淒厲至極的哀嚎。並非源自肉體的疼痛，而是整個「自我」被強行侵入的終極戰慄。

她的視野被無數來自家族集體靈識強行灌入的畫面充斥： ——冰冷的祭壇…周圍是眼神空洞、如同儀式人偶般精準同步地吟誦詭異禱詞的「親人」… ——她幼年的身體被多次放置其上…聖劍之左腿、聖杖之右腿、她的頭顱、她的雙手…彷彿一件件待分析的聖遺物，被無數閃爍著幽紫靈光的符文鎖鏈連接，測量著其中流淌的神聖力量，摹寫著其構成，甚至嘗試…解析以複製？

之後顯現於結衣識中的，是殉道者怨念與扭曲信仰共構的黃前家族集體意識，古老而冰冷。其由天草四郎的遺恨和悲願轉化而成，塑造了黃前家族。

這集體意識沒有具體的人格，所有黃前家族成員的靈魂，都是這片黑暗之海中的水滴，隨其起伏。而她身為聖女「神無月結衣」面具下的底層，「黃前結衣」，是這片黑暗之海中一座由他們親手打造，閃耀著竊來之光的奇異燈塔。她是家族盜取「奇蹟」的終極證明，是他們最成功的「終極造物」，是藉由黃前一夢這具優秀「母體」孕化而出的偽神聖——也因此從根源上，當屬黃前。

「靈紋指認…根源之識：黃前結衣。現世之形：神無月結衣。靈識連結成形…」

一個不帶絲毫生靈情感與溫度的聲音，如同審判宣告，直接在她的靈魂深處迴響。那不是母親的聲音，那是家族根源意識本身的低語！是她的「造主」在呼喚她的真名！

與此同時，她感到體內神力瘋狂暴走。她的雙腿——聖劍與聖杖的化身——內部的神聖符文劇烈閃爍、扭曲，彷彿兩股同源卻相斥的力量在進行最激烈的內戰，來自教會信仰祝福的聖光與一絲絲代表黃前本源切支丹信仰的幽紫色異端符碼交錯閃現。她背後的光之羽翼不受控制地張開又瞬間崩散成無數光點，頭頂的光環明滅不定，如同即將熄滅的燭火；而她的靈魂更是幾乎要失去結構，變成純粹的靈能亂流。

結衣的雙腿強行脫離，化成聖劍、聖杖，然而不完全的變化反饋給結衣巨大的痛苦與對抗。她奮力握住聖劍，然而構成劍身的左腿不斷地抽動。構成聖杖的右腿則扭曲至毫無神聖的威儀，只有可笑與怪異。她試圖用聖詠壓制變異，聲音卻在喉嚨裡顫抖成斷續的碎片和古怪的低語。她無法定義自己，就像是有人在她的心臟深處，冷冷地牽動着弦。

「不要……這不是我的祈禱！」

然而光與暗依舊合攏，聖歌被淹沒，聖劍與聖杖被一股無形的鎖鏈纏繞、拖入深淵。結衣看到劍尖以扭斷般的非人角度，自主地轉向她，眼裡的自身腳趾對著她射出被背叛的憤怒；右腳腳掌則彷彿因其無法被自身治癒的悲哀，掙脫與杖身的固定姿態，扭轉並蜷縮至極限，血管和關節幾至迸裂。

結衣明白了。 一切都殘酷赤裸地展示在她眼前。 那共鳴，那排斥，那某些戰鬥中來自體內的莫名干擾和阻滯，那偶爾出現的關於「神無月結衣」存在的切割感，那本能迴避卻老是想到的「黃前結衣」概念和隨之而來的巨大心悸…一切都有了解釋。 她從不只是被上帝選中的聖女，更是被黃前家族染指、竊取並精心培育的活體神蹟樣本。她的整個人生，她的信仰，她對母親的愛，都不過是漂浮在黃前這片深不見底的怨念之海上的，一層名為「神無月」的脆弱泡沫。

「強行斷開！立刻！以父與子與聖靈之名！」主教驚怒交加，還帶著一絲恐懼的指令吼聲彷彿來自遙遠的天外。

秘儀之間內所有的封印符文瞬間爆發出太陽般的光輝，蘊含神威的宏大聖詠聲如同海嘯般壓來，那道連接結衣與母親（或者说，與背後的「造主」）的靈能橋樑被強大的聖力悍然斬斷，冰冷的意識洪流與可怖的低語驟然消退。

結衣癱倒在地，身體像被徹底掏空般劇烈地痙攣、顫抖，冷汗早已浸透她的修士袍。她看著自己脫落的雙腿，依舊不受控制地閃爍著彷彿要對抗她異端本質的紊亂光芒，一股源自靈魂最深處，對自身存在的徹底噁心與恐懼淹沒了她。

「黃前結衣」雖已顯現，卻尚未完整啟動。聖力籠罩的教會遮蔽了其與黃前靈識之海的連結——此前連結的，不過是由黃前一夢軀殼所攜帶的微縮複本，何況黃前一夢仍在被拆解的狀態中，無法主動藉由連結操控黃前結衣。黃前結衣未接受到家族指示，程序性地「知曉」當前狀況，卻無法判斷下一步該怎麼走，遂以「待命」的狀態，仍舊運作表層的神無月結衣。

結衣掙扎地觸摸自己的身體部位，陷入極大的內在錯亂。這身體，這力量，這被稱之為「人生」的經歷…有多少是真實？有多少只是被精心書寫的運作模式與偽裝？連對母親的愛，是否也只是底層設定輸出的虛假訊號？至於來自母親的愛……

她抬頭，透過因淚水與汗水而模糊的視線，看向秘儀之間內，母親那被「打開」而顯露出非人內在的頭顱，以及那具靜坐等待，冷漠如器皿無頭軀體。

有那麼一瞬，結衣在母親無頭軀體因被解析而顫抖的肩膀間，看見渺茫的救贖——那具軀殼微微前傾，像是下意識伸手想要護住她。結衣幾乎要相信，那軀殼並非全然空洞。可下一瞬，母親軀體姿態回復僵硬，冷漠如初。

這一絲溫情的幻覺，比純粹的冷酷更殘忍。

眼淚無法流出，因為連哭泣這一行為，此刻都顯得如此可疑。無以復加的悲戚、荒誕與徹底的孤獨感吞噬了她。

她的世界沒有崩塌，而是像一幅被潑上了濃稠褻瀆之墨的聖像畫，所有的色彩都混雜、扭曲、變質，面目全非，再也無法復原。

然而，就連認為自身被褻瀆、玷污，從本質上來說，也是荒謬的——事實上，「神無月結衣」還得以假裝存在，也僅僅是「黃前結衣」尚未有動機以進行下一步動作。

她一直是黃前結衣，只是「神無月結衣」這個外殼，現在透過外界現實，被輸入了黃前結衣沒給她的真相資訊而已。

「我…究竟是什麼？」

這個低語，不再是尋求答案的疑問，而是對自身存在本身的徹底否定。絕望的程度，遠勝過任何地獄惡魔的咆哮。

結衣死死咬住唇，鮮血流下，劇烈的疼痛隨之而來——至少這份疼痛，還屬於她，還能證明她在。

The "Chamber of Sacraments," in the deepest sanctum of the Church, was steeped in an ancient gravity, tempered by countless hymns and prayers. The obsidian walls, polished smooth as mirrors by the ages, were etched with layered, powerful sealing runes passed down since the Church's founding. Now, infused with immense holy power, they flowed with a divine radiance. The rich scent of frankincense and myrrh in the air was so thick it nearly condensed into smoke, resonating with the ubiquitous, low Latin chants to weave a mighty and sacred barrier, potent enough to suppress and dissect the most profound cores of evil.

When Kannazuki Yui was led here by a cardinal deacon with a grave expression, her heart was filled with a cold, ominous premonition. The bishop's aged face was veiled in a frost she had never seen before. In a somber tone, he informed her that the Church's Knights Templar, in a raid that came at a great cost, had breached a nest where the Oumae family was conducting a core blasphemous ritual. They had brought back a "presence" that was both critically important and extremely dangerous.

As she looked into the chamber through the "Window of Truth," forged from holy silver and blessed crystal, her soul felt as if it had been instantly frozen at absolute zero.

In the center of the room was a platform carved from a single block of dark jade, resembling an ancient altar. Above it, several solid gold rings inscribed with Hebrew sealing psalms rotated slowly, their intersecting paths casting a lattice of purifying light to form a complex, three-dimensional holy punishment sealing matrix.

And her mother, Kannazuki Ichiyume, was positioned at the center of this altar where sanctity and blasphemy intertwined, in a state of calm and eerie stillness.

Ichiyume's head was not on her neck. It was suspended in a bizarrely shaped mithril stand, a hybrid of a heretical chalice and an otherworldly instrument. Her eyes were open, their gaze as vacant as polished obsidian, her face expressionless, as if awaiting its next use.

Several thin chains of pure holy light extended from the surrounding golden rings, gently yet firmly connecting to several nearly invisible, dark runic marks on her temples and the back of her head. These chains of light pulsed rhythmically, like a heartbeat, clearly in the process of forcibly reading or suppressing something.

Most horrifying of all, floating above the crown of her head was a deep soul crystal, the size of a pigeon's egg, with what looked like a swirling nebula inside. This crystal projected a hazy halo of light that constantly shifted through complex geometric rune forms. The halo, like an invisible hand, "penetrated" and "opened" her cranium, exposing the scene within—not brain tissue, but an otherworldly vista where countless tiny, star-like abyssal runes were constantly being born and extinguished! Several high-ranking exorcist priests in heavy chasubles surrounded the altar, holding jewel-encrusted holy staves, channeling searing holy light to cautiously probe and analyze that utterly non-human inner domain.

Meanwhile, Ichiyume's body sat quietly in a stone chair beside the altar, as if completely unrelated to the horror. The space above her neck was unnervingly smooth, showing no urgency to be reattached. The tight black dress she wore and the slightly ostentatious crocodile-skin, open-toed heels on her feet were utterly at odds with the gentle image Yui had of her mother. It was the same body, but the "inhabiting" personality seemed to have been extracted and replaced. The body's legs were crossed elegantly, its hands resting calmly on its thighs, its posture as standard as a mannequin's, simply awaiting its next instruction in silence. A high-ranking priest, one hand gripping a crucifix that glowed with white-hot light, placed the palm of his other hand directly on the cross-section of Ichiyume's neck, rapidly chanting a prayer of analysis, as if directly interrogating and accessing the shell's most fundamental operating logic.

"Mo... Mom...?" Yui's voice was so choppy it was nearly incoherent. The scene before her completely subverted her every understanding of "life," "mother," and even "existence." At the same time, she felt a blood-chilling resonance between her own composition and her mother's dismembered form, a connection born of bloodline and base programming. She could also feel the chaotic spiritual waves emanating from the empty shell, as if its "new individual" construct was incomplete. The multiple layers of strangeness plunged her into an icy abyss, and she began to tremble violently.

"What is here now is the shell named 'Oumae Ichiyume.' Its hidden, non-human interior is being forcibly revealed by the Holy Light," the bishop's voice was like the scraping of cold, iron pages of a bible. "When we found her, she was in the middle of a 'soul-state alteration' ritual. Her 'Kannazuki Ichiyume' surface personality construct had been temporarily uninstalled, like turning a page, to await the inscription of a new, false composition. We have been given a glimpse into the terrifying arts of this heretical family, how they manipulate souls and treat human beings as mere vessels."

Each of the bishop's words was like a red-hot, blasphemous nail driven into the core of Yui's faith, making a sizzling, scorching sound.

"Shell...? Alteration...? Uninstalled... surface personality...?" These cold, inhuman terms echoed madly in her mind, attempting to construct a "truth" about her mother that her soul desperately rejected but could not deny. Simultaneously, the feeling of resonance with her mother's body grew stronger, as if a similar "structure" within her was being awakened.

Just then, the elder priest presiding over the ritual frowned, as if sensing something. He turned to the bishop, his voice carrying through the barrier, laced with incredulous shock and confusion. "Your Grace, the barrier protecting her core consciousness is extremely resilient, bearing the aura of a powerful heretical contract and a collective of怨念 (grudges). But strangely... it is entwined with a spiritual fluctuation of the same origin and nature as Her Holiness, the Saint!? Perhaps... perhaps we can attempt a targeted resonance, using Her Holiness as a spiritual medium, to see the true form."

"No! Absolutely not!" Yui let out a scream born of pure instinct. An immense fear, as if she were foreseeing her own end, seized her, and she scrambled backward.

But the elder priest was faster. The holy staff in his hand had already changed direction. A beam of pure, gentle, yet irresistible holy light shot from its tip, precisely enveloping Yui outside the window, establishing a spiritual bridge and instantly completing a deep, compulsory consciousness link!

Wēng—

A vast, cold torrent of information, belonging to neither Yui's personal memory nor her consciousness, flooded into the depths of her soul like the waters of a bursting River Styx, channeled through that beam of holy light.

"Aaarghhhhh—!" She clutched her head, which felt as if it would split open, and let out a blood-curdling scream. The pain was not physical, but the ultimate terror of her entire "self" being forcibly invaded.

Her vision was filled with images force-fed from the family's collective consciousness:

—A cold altar... surrounded by "relatives" with vacant eyes, chanting strange prayers in perfect, doll-like unison...

—Her own childhood body, placed upon it multiple times... the left leg of the Holy Sword, the right leg of the Holy Staff, her head, her hands... treated like holy relics to be analyzed, connected by countless runic chains that glowed with an abyssal violet light, measuring the divine power flowing within, transcribing its composition, and even attempting to... parse it for replication?

Then, what manifested in Yui's consciousness was the ancient and cold collective consciousness of the Oumae family, a construct of martyrs' grudges and twisted faith. It had been transformed from the lingering hatred and sorrowful wish of Amakusa Shirō, shaping the Oumae family itself.

This collective consciousness had no specific personality. The souls of all Oumae family members were but drops in this sea of darkness, rising and falling with its tides. And the foundation beneath her mask as the Saint "Kannazuki Yui" was "Oumae Yui," a bizarre lighthouse in this dark sea, one they had built with their own hands, shining with stolen light. She was the ultimate proof of the family's theft of a "miracle," their most successful "ultimate creation," a pseudo-divinity birthed from the excellent "maternal vessel" that was Oumae Ichiyume—and therefore, at her very root, she belonged to the Oumae.

"Spiritual pattern identified... Root Consciousness: Oumae Yui. Worldly Form: Kannazuki Yui. Consciousness link established..."

A voice devoid of any living emotion or warmth, like the pronouncement of a verdict, echoed directly in the depths of her soul. It was not her mother's voice. It was the whisper of the family's root consciousness itself! It was her "Creator" calling her true name!

Simultaneously, she felt the divine power within her run rampant. The sacred runes inside her legs—the incarnations of the Holy Sword and Holy Staff—flashed and twisted violently, as if two powers of the same origin yet mutually repulsive were engaged in a fierce civil war. The holy light from the Church's blessings clashed and flickered with wisps of abyssal violet heretical sigils representing the Oumae's Kirishitan origins. The wings of light on her back unfurled uncontrollably before instantly disintegrating into countless motes of light. The halo above her head flickered like a dying candle flame. Her very soul was on the verge of losing its structure, threatening to dissolve into a pure, chaotic torrent of spiritual energy.

Yui's legs forcibly detached, transforming into the Holy Sword and Holy Staff, but the incomplete transformation fed back immense pain and resistance to Yui. She struggled to grip the Holy Sword, but her left leg, which formed its blade, twitched ceaselessly. Her right leg, which formed the Holy Staff, twisted until it possessed no sacred majesty, only a grotesque absurdity. She tried to suppress the mutation with a sacred chant, but the sound in her throat trembled into broken fragments and strange whispers. She could not define herself, as if someone were coldly pulling the strings deep within her heart.

"No... this isn't my prayer!"

Yet the light and darkness continued to merge. The sacred chant was drowned out. The Holy Sword and Holy Staff were ensnared by invisible chains and dragged into an abyss. Yui saw the tip of the sword turn toward her of its own accord, at an inhuman, broken-looking angle, her own toes on the blade's form shooting a betrayed fury at her. The sole of her right foot, as if in sorrow over its own incurable state, broke free from its fixed position on the staff, twisting and curling to its absolute limit, its veins and joints nearly bursting.

Yui understood. Everything was laid bare before her, cruel and naked. The resonance, the repulsion, the strange interference and resistance from within during certain battles, the occasional sense of detachment from her "Kannazuki Yui" existence, the concept of "Oumae Yui" that she instinctively avoided yet kept returning to, and the immense panic that followed... everything was explained. She was never just a Saint chosen by God. She was a living specimen of a miracle, tainted, stolen, and meticulously cultivated by the Oumae family. Her entire life, her faith, her love for her mother—they were nothing more than a fragile foam named "Kannazuki," floating on the bottomless sea of Oumae's grudge.

"Sever the connection! Immediately! In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!" The bishop's command, a roar of fury, shock, and a hint of fear, seemed to come from a distant heaven.

All the sealing runes in the Chamber of Sacraments erupted with a sun-like brilliance. A grand holy chant, filled with divine might, crashed down like a tsunami. The spiritual bridge connecting Yui to her mother (or rather, to the "Creator" behind her) was violently severed by the overwhelming holy power. The cold torrent of consciousness and the terrifying whispers abruptly ceased.

Yui collapsed to the floor, her body convulsing and trembling as if it had been completely hollowed out, her cold sweat soaking through her monastic robes. She looked at her detached legs, still flickering uncontrollably with a chaotic light that seemed to be fighting her heretical essence. A profound disgust and terror for her own existence, welling up from the deepest part of her soul, overwhelmed her.

"Oumae Yui" had been revealed, but not yet fully activated. The Church, cloaked in holy power, shielded her from the Oumae sea of consciousness—the previous connection had only been to a miniature copy carried by Ichiyume's shell, and Ichiyume herself was still in a state of disassembly, unable to actively control Oumae Yui through the link. Without receiving family instructions, Oumae Yui "knew" the current situation programmatically but could not determine her next move. Thus, she remained in a "standby" state, still operating the surface layer of Kannazuki Yui.

Yui struggled to touch the parts of her body, lost in an extreme internal chaos. This body, this power, this experience called "life"... how much of it was real? How much was just a meticulously scripted operational program and a disguise? Was even her love for her mother just a false signal output by her base programming? As for her mother's love for her...

She looked up, her vision blurred by tears and sweat, toward the Chamber of Sacraments. She saw her mother's head, "opened" to reveal its non-human interior, and the headless body, sitting in wait, as cold and indifferent as a vessel.

For a fleeting moment, Yui saw a glimmer of salvation in the trembling shoulders of her mother's headless body as it was being analyzed—the shell leaned forward slightly, as if subconsciously reaching out to protect her. Yui almost wanted to believe the shell was not entirely empty. But the next instant, the body's posture returned to its rigid, cold state.

This illusion of warmth was crueler than pure coldness.

Tears could not fall, because even the act of crying now seemed suspicious. An insurmountable grief, absurdity, and a complete sense of loneliness consumed her.

Her world had not collapsed. Instead, it had become like a sacred icon splashed with thick, blasphemous ink. All the colors were muddled, twisted, and corrupted, utterly unrecognizable, never to be restored.

However, even the notion that she had been desecrated and defiled was, in essence, absurd. The truth was, "Kannazuki Yui" was only allowed to pretend to exist because "Oumae Yui" had not yet found a motive to take the next step.

She had always been Oumae Yui. It was just that the shell, "Kannazuki Yui," had now been fed information about the truth by the outside world—information Oumae Yui had never given her.

"What... am I?"

This whisper was no longer a question seeking an answer, but a complete negation of her own existence. Its despair was far greater than the roar of any demon in Hell.

Yui bit down hard on her lip. Blood flowed, followed by a sharp pain—at least this pain still belonged to her. At least it could prove she was still here.

獵魔聖女--表與裡(3)

第參章、神無月裡的黃前

Chapter 3: Oumae inside the Kannazuki

週末，結衣駕駛著家中那輛老派的轎車，載著母親一夢駛離喧囂的都市。現代化的景緻如同退潮般迅速消失，取而代之的是越來越濃郁，有著原始壓迫感的蒼翠山林。當目的地漸近，空氣變得清冷濕潤，卻也莫名帶著了一絲沉甸甸的的凝滯感，恍若古老的結界。

隨著導航信號變得斷斷續續，車子最終轉入一條幾乎被蕨類和藤蔓掩蓋的狹窄山路。參天古木的枝椏在上空交錯，編織成厚重的穹頂，將大部分天光隔絕在外。車內的光線變得晦暗不明，唯有車頭燈切割開前方濃得化不開的幽綠。車輪碾過鋪滿腐殖質和落葉的路面，發出單調的沙沙聲。四周萬籟俱寂，連鳥鳴也罕聞，只有彷彿來自地底深處的深沉靜默在嗡鳴。

結衣握著方向盤的手微微收緊，指節泛白。一種彷若烙印在血脈深處的莫名熟悉感，與她「神無月結衣」意識所產生的強烈排斥感激烈交戰。這條路，她童年時必然走過無數次，但記憶卻像被強行洗去的羊皮卷，只剩下一些模糊不清的色彩和令人不安的觸感。

副駕駛座上的一夢卻顯得格外寧靜，甚至帶著如同歸巢般的安然與愉悅。她輕聲哼著一首旋律古老奇特的搖籃曲，那調子既非傳統和風，也非聖詠，音階起伏間帶著一種隱秘的哀傷與執拗，那是結衣幼時入睡前常聽到的。

「就快到了哦，我們真正的『家』。」一夢微笑著指向前方，語氣裡有一種難以言喻的深意。

山路盡頭，霧氣氤氳，一座彷彿從山體中生長出來的巨大宅邸顯露而出。它採用的是日式建築結構，黑瓦沉重，木牆因歲月而呈現深褐色，但仔細看去，某些屋簷下的楔形木雕（駒形）卻被巧妙地改成了抽象化的十字架形狀，而窗格上隱約可見的鏤空花紋，也透著切支丹那種將信仰隱藏於日常圖案中的獨特美學。宅邸周圍繚繞著的不僅僅是山霧，更是一種由靈力所構成，肉眼難以辨識的屏障，讓它看起來既古老，又遠離現世。

停好車子後，結衣剛打開車門，一股複雜的氣息便撲面而來——潮濕的泥土、腐木、常年燃燒的秘製線香，以及一種更深層的冰冷而陳舊的靈性塵埃，彷彿由無數意念長年累月所積澱而成。這氣味讓她的太陽穴微微鼓脹，平日刻意迴避而沉寂在體內的黃前血脈似乎開始與之共鳴，神聖之力則愈發蟄伏。結衣緊抓胸口，卻怎樣也無法抑制自身的變化。她有點驚疑地下車，一腳踩上屬於黃前的土地，卻感覺到有股不知為何的什麼，繞過她的涼鞋鞋底，攀上她暴露的腳，引發寄託於她腿部的神聖力量不安的波動和她本質中黃前部分的歡悅；轉化後會成為聖劍劍鋒的左腳，更是狠狠攥緊，就像是自動進行蓄力，準備迎戰。結衣心中一凜，雙手合十，在心中暗暗禱告，安撫自身的構成。

那扇鑲著銅釘的巨大漆黑大門，悄無聲息地滑開。兩位穿著深色訪問著，面容靜謐得看不出年齡的婦人——結衣的外婆和一位姨母——如同早已被程序設定好似的站在門內。她們臉上掛著弧度一致的溫和笑容，整齊地鞠躬，動作同步得毫無瑕疵。

「歸來就好，一夢，結衣。」她們的聲音輕柔得彷若預先錄製好的音軌，笑容溫暖卻像覆蓋了一層薄釉，看不出情感的漣漪。

「我們回來了。」一夢自然地回應，上前親暱地挽住母親的手臂，彷彿列車開入一個既定的運行軌道。

結衣努力擠出一個符合期待的笑容，遵循禮節回應。每次見到這些親戚，她都有種強烈的既視感：每個人都如同精密的人形聖器，言行舉止無可挑剔，卻總讓人覺得在那溫和表皮之下，運轉的是某種非人的集體性意識流。他們的關懷彷彿是執行某種儀式規程，而非發自個體的內心。

宅邸內部如同一個巨大的靈性迷宮。走廊漫長昏暗，兩側的紙門上繪著看似傳統花鳥，實則隱藏了無數細小十字紋與拉丁文禱詞片段的暗紋。空氣中靈力的壓迫感幾乎凝成實體，結衣感覺自己的皮膚泛起細小的疙瘩，那是一種靈魂層面的探針正在掃描她的觸感，測定並校準她的存在。她體內來自神無月家族的神聖力量，在此地被這濃郁的黃前家族靈脈“制服”，如同潛入深海的火種，並且被任意地觸碰、解析，就像幼兒手中的玩具；而另一種平日隱晦模糊的源自黃前血脈的古老底層系統，卻開始清晰地震顫、低鳴，渴望著連接，只是結衣不知道其將連向何處。

午餐在一間瀰漫著淡淡香氣的寬敞塌塌米房間進行。長長的矮桌旁坐滿了黃前家族的成員。場面看似熱鬧溫馨，長輩們溫和地詢問結衣的學業與生活，並談論她的基督教信仰。

說也奇怪，不知其所由，她有著黃前家族信仰應也屬於基督教的設定性認知（由誰設定？），卻又未曾聽聞家族成員明白直接地敘述這一點。除了嫁入神無月家的母親，她無法確認其他家族成員是否基督徒。他們只談論結衣的信仰，了解其認知和狀態，卻似乎迴避提及自身的信仰。

明明整個宅邸都暗含了異質基督信仰的痕跡，明明家族成員的言行都帶有同調於基督教教義的氣味，卻又洋溢著古老日本的超自然氛圍。

結衣感覺到一種益發強烈的抽離感。他們的對話精準地避開所有可能引發強烈個人情感或個人認知的話題，如同在進行一場優雅而空洞的社交儀式。笑聲恰到好處，眼神卻平靜無波。每一次提問更都像是早已設定好的對話模組，並無個體性的隨意。那種連語氣都保持一致的對話，讓她感覺不是在與親人交流，而是被某個龐大而冷酷的意識體，透過眾多軀殼同時凝視。

而當她嘗試將話題引向某些個人化的細節時，對話卻會如同觸及無形的規範般被立即切斷，親戚們便優雅地將話題引回「她」身上。笑容依舊溫暖，卻空洞得如同陶瓷表面的釉色，絲毫不起波瀾。

席間，一位舅媽用塗著淡淡口紅的嘴唇吐出讚賞的話語：「結衣的靈光愈發純淨了，不愧是承載了我黃前家『悲願』與『恩寵』的結晶。」另一位姨母則補充道：「這份力量需時常回到『根源』進行維護與祝禱，方能保持最佳狀態，這才是你存在的根本啊。」

她們在與結衣聊天，但又像是不是對著結衣說，而是穿透結衣，對著她裡面不知是誰的對象說。這些話語像帶著暗示力量的咒文，悄無聲息地滲透她的靈識，動搖著她以「神無月」為名的表層認知。她有了想要反駁的念頭，但念頭隨即不知為何地消解，彷彿驅動念頭的心緒被按下中止鍵。

無論是“異端”的想法還是“異教”的靈能，身處黃前本家的結衣，都沒有如同平日般躍起對抗的能力。

下午，母親以「恢復精神」為由，帶她穿過數道隱蔽的迴廊，來到宅邸最深處一個門戶異常厚重的獨立院落。這裡的空氣幾乎凝滯，瀰漫著用於安定靈體的特殊香料濃郁氣味，及一種冰冷、如鐵鏽般的金屬味。

一夢在一扇漆黑如墨，上用銀線繪滿複雜封印陣圖與隱匿十字的房門前停下。

「結衣，還記得這裡嗎？妳的『搖籃』。」一夢的聲音帶著催眠般的柔和與誘導，「妳幼時體弱，需要時常在此接受家族的『愛之注視』與『靈性調和』，這才能讓妳的身體與靈光茁壯成長。」

結衣的視線剛落在那扇門上，心臟猛地一沉，彷彿被看不見的巨手攥住。

「呃啊…！」一聲壓抑的呻吟從喉嚨裡擠出，她猛地後退數步，背脊狠狠撞上冰冷的牆壁，額頭瞬間被冷汗浸透。

無數由各個感官記憶的抽象知覺碎片湧向結衣  。那些碎片帶著不知往何處去的失重感，和強烈的被物化、被探測、被研析的冰冷恐懼。

「結衣？怎麼了？是靈脈共鳴太強烈了嗎？」一夢立刻上前扶住她，臉上寫滿了逼真的擔憂，關切的表情完美無瑕，彷彿剛才提及「搖籃」與「調和」的話語從未包含任何其他意味。

「沒…沒什麼！只是突然有點頭痛。」結衣強行壓下翻騰的噁心感與靈魂深處的尖叫，聲音虛弱而顫抖，「媽，這裡有股太濃烈的氛圍，我有點受不了，想去…去院子裡透透氣。」

她踉蹌地如同竄逃般，遠離了那扇彷彿連通著她存在本源的恐怖之門。

直到第二天傍晚離開，結衣都處於一種精神恍惚、記憶斷片的狀態。她感覺自己在這段時間裡似乎經歷了什麼，但又無法清晰回憶，只留下一些感官的殘響——冰冷的觸感、低沉的吟誦、還有被無數道無形視線細緻掃描過的身體記憶。返程的路上由一夢開車，虛弱的結衣沉默得像一尊石像，只是望著窗外那將黃前本家重新吞噬回去的陰鬱山林。

一夢體貼地沒有打擾她，只是溫柔地輕聲說：「好好休息，這次的『維護』很順利，你的靈光穩定多了。」

結衣不語，但心有所感。有什麼根本性的東西被觸動了。黃前本家就像一個巨大而黑暗的子宮，強迫她直面自己體內那個名為「黃前結衣」的應當熟悉卻是陌生的特質。那份與家族靈脈的深刻共鳴，那份對特定儀式環境的異常親和，以及那些恐怖的知覺碎片…都在尖銳地拷問她堅信的一切：

名為神無月結衣的聖女，其下隱藏的，究竟是什麼？

這個致命的疑問，像一枚由冰與鐵鑄成的種子，被深深埋入了聖女熾熱的信仰之心深處。

That weekend, Yui drove her mother, Ichiyume, out of the clamorous city in the family's old-fashioned sedan. The modern landscape receded like a swift tide, replaced by an increasingly dense, verdant forest that exuded a primal sense of pressure. As they neared their destination, the air grew cool and damp, yet it also carried a strange, heavy stillness, as if they were passing through an ancient barrier.

As the navigation signal became intermittent, the car finally turned onto a narrow mountain road nearly swallowed by ferns and vines. The branches of towering ancient trees intertwined overhead, weaving a thick canopy that blocked out most of the daylight. The light inside the car grew dim and uncertain, with only the headlights carving a path through the impenetrable emerald gloom ahead. The tires crunched monotonously over a surface covered in humus and fallen leaves. A profound silence reigned, so complete that even birdsong was rare; only a deep, humming quiet, as if emanating from the depths of the earth, thrummed in the air.

Yui’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white. An inexplicable familiarity, as if branded deep within her bloodline, waged a fierce war against the strong sense of repulsion generated by her "Kannazuki Yui" consciousness. She must have traveled this road countless times as a child, yet her memory was like a forcibly scrubbed parchment, leaving only vague, unsettling colors and textures behind.

In the passenger seat, however, Ichiyume seemed exceptionally serene, even displaying the placid joy of one returning to the nest. She softly hummed an ancient and peculiar lullaby, its melody neither traditionally Japanese nor a sacred hymn. The rise and fall of its notes carried a hidden sorrow and an obstinate will—the same tune Yui often heard before falling asleep in her childhood.

"We're almost there. Our true 'home'," Ichiyume said with a smile, pointing ahead, her tone carrying an ineffable, profound meaning.

At the end of the mountain road, shrouded in a swirling mist, a massive estate revealed itself, seeming to have grown out of the mountainside. It was built in a traditional Japanese architectural style, with heavy black roof tiles and dark brown wooden walls weathered by age. But on closer inspection, some of the wedge-shaped wood carvings (komagata) under the eaves had been cleverly altered into abstract crosses, and the latticework of the windows faintly revealed filigree patterns that hinted at the unique aesthetic of the Kirishitan, who hid their faith in everyday designs. The estate was shrouded not only in mountain mist but also in a barrier formed of spiritual power, imperceptible to the naked eye, making it appear both ancient and far removed from the modern world.

As soon as Yui opened the car door after parking, a complex scent assailed her—damp earth, decaying wood, the ever-burning secret blend of family incense, and a deeper, colder layer of ancient spiritual dust, as if accumulated from countless thoughts over untold years. The smell made her temples throb. The Oumae blood within her, which she usually kept dormant and deliberately avoided, began to resonate with it, while her divine power grew more subdued. Yui clutched her chest, but she couldn't suppress the change within herself. With a sense of bewildered alarm, she stepped out of the car. The moment one foot touched the Oumae soil, she felt something bypass the sole of her sandal and climb up her exposed foot, causing the divine power vested in her legs to fluctuate with unease while the Oumae part of her very essence rejoiced. Her left foot, the one that would transform into the blade of her holy sword, clenched tightly, as if automatically charging power for a coming battle. A chill ran down Yui's spine. She clasped her hands together and prayed silently, trying to soothe her own composition.

The massive, lacquered black gate, studded with bronze nails, slid open without a sound. Two women in dark, formal visiting kimonos stood just inside, their faces so serene their ages were indiscernible—Yui’s maternal grandmother and an aunt. They wore gentle smiles of identical curvature and bowed in perfect, flawless unison, as if pre-programmed.

"It is good you have returned, Ichiyume, Yui." Their voices were as soft as a pre-recorded track, their smiles warm yet coated in a thin glaze that betrayed no ripple of emotion.

"We're back," Ichiyume responded naturally, stepping forward to affectionately take her mother's arm, like a train gliding onto its designated track.

Yui forced a smile that met expectations and responded with the proper etiquette. Every time she saw these relatives, she was struck by a powerful sense of déjà vu: each person was like a precision-made humanoid holy relic, their words and actions impeccable, yet one always felt that beneath the gentle exterior operated a kind of non-human, collective stream of consciousness. Their concern felt like the execution of a ritual protocol rather than an expression of individual feeling.

The interior of the estate was a vast spiritual labyrinth. The corridors were long and dim, the paper doors on either side painted with what appeared to be traditional flowers and birds but were, in fact, subtly embedded with countless tiny crosses and fragments of Latin prayers. The oppressive spiritual power in the air was almost tangible. Yui felt goosebumps prickle her skin; it was the sensation of a soul-level probe scanning her, measuring and calibrating her very existence. Here, the divine power within her from the Kannazuki family was "subdued" by the dense spiritual vein of the Oumae clan, like a flame plunged into the deep sea, arbitrarily touched and analyzed like a child's toy. Meanwhile, another ancient, underlying system originating from her Oumae bloodline, usually obscure and vague, began to tremble and hum with clarity, yearning for a connection to something unknown.

Lunch was served in a spacious tatami room filled with a faint, fragrant aroma. The members of the Oumae family sat around a long, low table. The scene appeared lively and warm, with the elders gently asking Yui about her studies and life, and discussing her Christian faith.

Strangely, for reasons she couldn't fathom, she held a programmed understanding (programmed by whom?) that the Oumae family's faith should also be a form of Christianity, yet she had never heard any family member state this directly. Other than her mother, who had married into the Kannazuki family, she couldn't confirm if any of them were Christians. They only ever talked about Yui's faith, seeking to understand her beliefs and status, while seeming to avoid any mention of their own.

The entire estate was imbued with traces of a heterodox Christian faith, and the words and actions of her family members carried an air of harmony with Christian doctrine, yet it was all steeped in the atmosphere of ancient Japanese supernaturalism.

Yui felt an increasingly intense sense of detachment. Their conversation precisely skirted any topic that might evoke strong personal emotions or individual opinions, as if they were performing an elegant but empty social ritual. Their laughter was perfectly measured, their eyes calm and unwavering. Every question felt more like a pre-set dialogue module than a spontaneous, individual inquiry. The fact that even their tones of voice remained consistent made her feel she wasn't conversing with relatives, but rather being gazed upon by a vast, cold consciousness through numerous physical vessels simultaneously.

When she tried to steer the conversation toward more personal details, the dialogue would be instantly cut off, as if it had brushed against an invisible rule, and her relatives would elegantly guide the topic back to "her." Their smiles remained warm but were as empty as the glaze on ceramic, showing no stirrings whatsoever.

During the meal, an aunt with faintly lipsticked lips uttered words of praise: "Yui’s spiritual light grows ever purer. She is truly the crystallization of our Oumae family's 'sorrowful wish' and 'grace'." Another aunt added, "This power must be frequently returned to the 'source' for maintenance and blessing to remain in its optimal state. This is the very foundation of your existence."

They were talking to Yui, yet it felt as if they weren't speaking to her, but through her, to some unknown entity within. These words, like incantations carrying suggestive power, silently infiltrated her spiritual awareness, shaking the foundations of her surface identity as "Kannazuki." The urge to rebut them rose within her, but the thought would dissolve for some unknown reason, as if the emotion driving it had been switched off.

Whether it was a "heretical" thought or an "idolatrous" spiritual power, Yui, in the Oumae main house, lacked her usual ability to rise up and resist.

In the afternoon, on the pretext of "restoring her spirit," her mother led her through several hidden corridors to an isolated courtyard in the deepest part of the estate, fronted by an unusually heavy gate. The air here was nearly stagnant, thick with the potent scent of a special incense used to stabilize spirits, as well as a cold, metallic smell like rust.

Ichiyume stopped before a door as black as ink, its surface covered in intricate sealing sigils and hidden crosses traced in silver thread.

"Yui, do you remember this place? Your 'cradle'," Ichiyume's voice was hypnotically gentle and suggestive. "You were frail as a child and needed to frequently receive the family's 'gaze of love' and 'spiritual attunement' here. Only then could your body and your spiritual light grow strong."

The moment Yui's gaze fell upon the door, her heart plummeted as if seized by a giant, unseen hand.

"Ugh...!" A stifled groan escaped her throat. She stumbled back several steps, her spine slamming into the cold wall as a cold sweat instantly beaded on her forehead.

Countless abstract sensory fragments, memories from all her senses, rushed toward her. They carried a feeling of weightlessness, of going nowhere, and the intense, cold terror of being objectified, probed, and analyzed.

"Yui? What's wrong? Is the spiritual resonance too strong?" Ichiyume immediately moved to support her, her face a mask of convincing worry, her concerned expression flawless, as if her earlier words about the "cradle" and "attunement" had carried no other meaning.

"It's... it's nothing! Just a sudden headache." Yui forcefully suppressed the roiling nausea and the scream rising from the depths of her soul. Her voice was weak and trembling. "Mom, the atmosphere here is too intense. I can't take it. I want to... I want to get some air in the garden."

She staggered away as if fleeing, distancing herself from the terrifying door that seemed connected to the very source of her existence.

Until they left the following evening, Yui remained in a daze, her memory fragmented. She felt as if she had experienced something during that time but couldn't clearly recall it, left only with sensory echoes—a cold touch, a low chant, and the bodily memory of being meticulously scanned by countless invisible gazes. Ichiyume drove on the way back. A weakened Yui sat as silent as a statue, merely staring out the window at the gloomy forest that was swallowing the Oumae estate once more.

Ichiyume was considerate enough not to disturb her, only saying softly and gently, "Rest well. This 'maintenance' was very successful. Your spiritual light is much more stable now."

Yui didn't reply, but she felt it in her heart. Something fundamental had been touched. The Oumae estate was like a vast, dark womb, forcing her to confront the part of herself named "Oumae Yui"—a trait that should have been familiar but was instead alien. The deep resonance with her family's spiritual vein, the abnormal affinity for a specific ritual environment, and those terrifying sensory fragments... they were all sharply questioning everything she held true:

Beneath the Saint named Kannazuki Yui, what exactly lies hidden?

This fatal question, like a seed forged of ice and iron, was now buried deep within the fiery, faithful heart of the Saint.

獵魔聖女--表與裡(2)

第貳章、來自未知的母親

Chapter 2: The Mother from the Unknown

教堂的鐘聲敲響了傍晚的寧靜，餘韻如同金色的漣漪蕩漾在暮色裡。神無月結衣推開古樸的家門，一股帶著淡淡燉菜與剛出爐麵包香氣的溫暖氣息瞬間包裹了她，細緻地洗滌了昨晚與妖魔戰鬥後殘留於靈魂縫隙間的緊繃與一絲難以言喻的虛無感。

「我回來了。」她的聲音裡帶著卸下所有重擔的徹底鬆弛，只有回到家後才能產生。

「歡迎回來，我的結衣。」一個溫柔得如同被聖母瑪利亞親自祝福過的聲音從廚房深處傳來。

神無月一夢——結衣的母親——繫著潔白的蕾絲邊圍裙，從廚房的暖光中探出身子。她年約四十，然而歲月彷彿只曾輕拂過她的臉龐，未曾嚴厲地刻下痕跡，除了眼角留下了幾道淺淺的細紋，盛滿了無盡的溫柔與笑意。她的眼眸總是那麼寧靜澄澈，看著結衣時，透露的專注與慈愛，能讓最堅硬的冰雪為之融化。她是結衣在信仰世界之外，最堅實、最溫暖的人間錨點。

「今天過得如何？」一夢一邊用布巾擦拭著彩色的琉璃碗，一邊自然地問道，聲音如同溪流般悅耳。這是她們每日近乎儀式般的問候。

結衣仔細地洗淨雙手，彷彿要洗去所有不潔的接觸。她猶豫了一下，通常不會詳述戰鬥的細節，以免太過溫柔的母親為此擔憂。但這次，迷路小女孩淚眼婆娑的樣子和她父母幾乎要跪下的感激神情，讓她心頭變得柔軟，想要分享那暖和的心緒。

「嗯…昨晚驅散了一個小小的魔瘴，還幫助了一個與父母走散的小女孩。後來在教會休息一夜，檢查戰鬥後靈力變化，並讓神父幫助我恢復力量和信仰。媽媽，對不起，沒有告訴妳，」她輕描淡寫地說，走到廚房門口，倚著門框，觀察著母親的反應，「說起來，小女孩她…她問我是不是天使呢。我有點開心…」結衣的語氣裡帶著一點小女孩般的羞赧，又有幾許被純真話語直接觸碰心靈後的柔軟。

一夢正在擺盤的手，幾不可察地頓了頓，精準得如同鐘錶的齒輪被輕輕卡住，僅僅零點幾秒，便恢復流暢。她轉過身，笑容依舊完美無瑕，溫和得無可挑剔，卻沒有直接回應那個關於天使的純真疑問。她走上前，伸出保養得極好的手，指尖微涼，帶著某種奇異的安定感，輕輕撫摸著結衣的臉頰，仔細端詳，彷彿在檢查一件舉世無雙的珍寶是否有絲毫損傷。

「是嗎…我的結衣，總是如此善良，像光一樣。但是，」她的話語轉折得輕柔卻不容忽視，「沒有讓那些『黑暗』碰到你吧？」

這種過度的近乎執著的關心，結衣早已習慣。她總是將其歸咎於母親對自己幼年那場幾乎奪走性命的重病的創傷後遺症，一種深植於心的恐懼。

「我沒事，媽媽。聖光護佑著我，它們無法真正觸及我。」結衣握住母親的手，笑著安撫她，試圖用自信驅散那過分的憂慮，「別忘了，您女兒可是被祝聖過的聖女哦。」

晚餐時光依舊溫馨寧靜，如同荷蘭畫派的油畫。餐桌上擺滿了結衣最愛的菜餚：紅酒牛肉燉得恰到好處，入口即化；煎得表皮金黃、內裡鮮嫩的魚排；還有如同藝術品般擺放的新鮮沙拉。一夢姿態優雅地用餐，輕聲細語地詢問結衣大學裡的趣事，閒聊教區的家長里短，對結衣作為「聖女」的戰鬥卻巧妙避而不談，彷彿那只是女兒一項普通社團活動。

結衣沉浸在這份過於完美的家庭溫暖中，體內因力量衝突而殘留的細微顫慄漸漸平息。然而，在溫柔的浪潮下，她心底那一絲異樣感仍如細微波紋，偶爾掠過意識邊緣，提醒她力量的特殊與隱秘。

飯後，結衣幫忙收拾餐具。當她拿著一疊光潔的白瓷碗盤走向廚房時，目光無意間掃過客廳牆上一個常年擺放的銀質相框。那是一張略顯泛黃的照片，母親比現在年輕許多，美麗而幸福，穿著復古潔白婚紗，依偎在身形挺拔而面容已有些模糊父親身旁。背景是一座古老肅穆的日本神社，朱紅的鳥居深邃而奇異。結衣自小看著這照片長大，對神社背景早已習以為常，卻未曾真正理解其不協調感。

此刻，她腦中閃過一個極微小的疑問：一個世代虔誠、甚至誕生聖人與聖女的天主教家庭，為何婚禮會選在神社？

這個念頭帶著某種褻瀆般的寒意，一閃而過，快得抓不住。她下意識地搖了搖頭，覺得自己大概是太累了，才會生出這種毫無根據的疑慮。

「結衣，來幫媽媽泡杯茶好嗎？今天突然很想喝你泡的茶。」一夢的聲音溫柔得恰到好處，像無法拒絕的呼喚。結衣應道：「好，馬上來。」她努力將那絲突兀疑惑拋諸腦後。

她專注地溫壺、置茶、沖泡，動作流暢優雅，帶著修行般的寧靜。一夢靜靜地坐在沙發上，凝視著女兒的每一個動作，目光深邃，裡面盛滿濃烈的愛意，但在最底層的光影交界處，潛藏著一絲難以捕捉的異質平靜與隱秘期待，彷彿在微微測量、感知結衣的每個細微變化。

結衣將沏好的茶湯端給母親。茶香撲鼻，一夢輕啜一口，發出滿足的讚嘆：「結衣泡的茶，總是有種特別的平靜力量呢。」放下茶杯，瓷器輕磕托盤的聲音清脆悅耳。她的目光柔和地落在女兒臉上，語氣不經意地提起：「下週末，我們回一趟本家吧？外公外婆很久沒見你了，非常想你。」

「本家？」結衣心臟莫名一緊。母親指的是黃前本家，隱藏在縣界深山中的古老宅邸群。自從她上高中後，就很少回去了。對黃前本家的記憶，總是蒙著一層霧：巨大陰鬱的古老木造建築，空氣中終年不散的線香與某種類似經卷的氣息，總是帶著溫和微笑卻眼神空洞、舉止間存在著微妙同步性的親戚，以及每次離開後總會伴隨的，持續一兩天的昏睡和更加破碎的夢境…這一切都讓她潛意識裡產生來自本能的抗拒。

「嗯…媽，下週末恐怕不行，」結衣下意識地尋找理由，聲音帶著自己都未察覺的急切，「教會那邊有一個重要的祈禱會，我必須出席，而且學業上也…」

一夢伸出手，輕輕覆上結衣的手背。她的手掌溫暖乾燥，卻帶著一種奇異而不容置疑的柔和力量，觸感讓結衣的話語瞬間卡在喉嚨裡。

「不會待很久的，就住一晚。媽媽也想回去看看了。而且…」

她頓了頓，身體微微前傾，聲音壓得更低更輕柔，彷彿在分享一個只屬於她們母女之間的秘密。她的眼神充滿了純粹的關切。

「你忘記了嗎？小時候，每次從本家回來，你的精神都會變得格外飽滿，體內那份寶貴的『光』也會更加穩定。那裡的山林、空氣與長輩的祝福，對你有特別滋養。現在時常使用力量，媽媽真的很擔心你的身體。就當補充能量，好嗎？」

結衣怔住了。小時候…精神更好？光更穩定？她努力挖掘那些模糊的記憶，卻只記得昏沉沉的睡意和醒來後偶爾發現身體某些部位多出類似儀式符文的極淡紅色印記（母親總說是皮膚過敏）。但此刻，母親的眼神是如此真誠，充滿了無私的關愛，每一個表情、每一句語調都完美契合擔憂女兒身體的母親形象，讓她所有的懷疑都顯得如此荒唐和不孝。

或許…真的是自己記錯了？或許那種模糊和不適，只是小孩子對嚴肅古老環境的不適應？而身體獲益，或許是真的，只是自己當時無法理解？

看著母親那張寫滿期待與隱憂的完美面容，結衣的心防徹底軟化了。她怎能拒絕這樣一份濃郁而毫無雜質的母愛？

「…好吧，媽媽。」她聽到自己的聲音自動說著，彷彿從遠處傳來，「我陪您回去。」

「真是媽媽的乖女兒。」一夢的笑容瞬間綻放，如同最純淨的花朵。她輕輕抱了抱結衣，結衣能聞到她身上總是縈繞的彷若於古老檀香與冷霜混合的淡淡氣息，「放心吧，會很愉快的。那畢竟是媽媽的根，也是你血脈中不可分割的一部分啊。」

血脈的一部分。

聽到這個詞的瞬間，結衣感到心臟像是被一隻冰冷的手輕輕攥了一下，一股極其輕微卻無法忽略的悸動掠過四肢百骸。這並非情感上的觸動，更像是一種…底層設定被觸發時產生的共鳴？一種身不由己的歸屬感強行覆蓋了她的主觀意願，所有抗拒的念頭如同撞上一堵無形的牆，瞬間消散無蹤，運作被強制取消。她甚至無法再凝聚起一絲不想去的念頭。

她低頭喝了一口已然微涼的茶，將這瞬間強烈的異樣感努力掩蓋過去。

窗外，夜色徹底籠罩了城市。溫暖的室內燈光照耀著這對相依為命的母女，場景溫馨和諧得如同一幅被精心繪製的聖像畫。

然而，結衣沒有看到，在她低頭掩飾內心震動時，母親一夢臉上那依舊溫柔完美的笑容裡，一閃而過的與她平日母親氣質截然不同的絕對平靜。那眼神深處，並非只有母愛，更交織著一絲難以察覺，彷彿指令順利執行般的確認感，以及一絲幾乎無法被捕捉到的隱秘期待。

黑暗的根鬚，正如無形的藤蔓，藉著名為「愛」的完美偽裝，悄無聲息地纏繞而上，試圖觸碰並調整那純白聖光的核心。

The church bells tolled, shattering the evening tranquility, their lingering chimes rippling through the twilight like golden waves. As Kannazuki Yui pushed open the rustic door to her home, a warm aroma of faint stew and freshly baked bread enveloped her, delicately cleansing the tension and the faint, ineffable void that clung to the crevices of her soul after last night's battle with demons.

"I'm home," she said, her voice filled with the utter relaxation that only coming home could bring, a release from all burdens.

"Welcome back, my Yui." A voice as gentle as if it had been personally blessed by the Virgin Mary drifted from the depths of the kitchen.

Kannazuki Ichiyume—Yui’s mother—leaned out from the warm glow of the kitchen, wearing a pristine, lace-trimmed apron. She was around forty, yet time seemed to have only brushed gently against her face, never carving harsh lines. Only a few faint creases rested at the corners of her eyes, brimming with endless tenderness and mirth. Her eyes were always serene and clear, and when she looked at Yui, the focused affection she revealed could melt the hardest ice. She was Yui’s firmest, warmest anchor in the mortal world, beyond the realm of faith.

"How was your day?" Ichiyume asked casually as she wiped a colorful glass bowl with a cloth, her voice as pleasant as a babbling brook. It was their near-ritualistic daily greeting.

Yui washed her hands meticulously, as if scrubbing away every impure contact. She hesitated. Normally, she wouldn't detail her battles, lest her overly gentle mother worry. But this time, the image of the lost little girl's tear-streaked face and her parents' overwhelming gratitude, so profound they nearly knelt, had softened her heart. She wanted to share that warmth.

"Well... I dispelled a small miasma last night and helped a little girl who'd gotten separated from her parents. I rested at the church overnight to monitor my spiritual power after the fight and had the priest help me restore my strength and faith. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Mom," she said, downplaying the events. She walked to the kitchen doorway and leaned against the frame, observing her mother's reaction. "Speaking of which, the little girl... she asked if I was an angel. It made me a little happy..." Yui’s tone held a girlish bashfulness, mingled with the softness of a heart touched by innocent words.

Ichiyume’s hands, in the middle of arranging food on a plate, paused for an almost imperceptible moment. It was as precise as a clockwork gear gently catching, for only a fraction of a second, before resuming its fluid motion. She turned, her smile still flawless and impeccably gentle, but she didn't directly address the innocent question about being an angel. She stepped forward and reached out with her well-kept hand. Her fingertips were cool, carrying a strange sense of calm as she gently caressed Yui's cheek, examining her as if inspecting a priceless, one-of-a-kind treasure for the slightest flaw.

"Is that so... My Yui, always so kind, like the light itself. But," her words shifted, soft yet impossible to ignore, "you didn't let any of that 'darkness' touch you, did you?"

Yui had long grown accustomed to this excessive, almost obsessive, concern. She always attributed it to the post-traumatic stress from the severe illness that had nearly claimed her life in childhood—a fear deeply rooted in her mother's heart.

"I'm fine, Mom. The Holy Light protects me. They can't truly touch me." Yui took her mother's hand and smiled reassuringly, trying to dispel the overwhelming anxiety with her confidence. "Don't forget, your daughter is a consecrated Saint."

Dinnertime was as warm and peaceful as ever, like a Dutch master's oil painting. The table was laden with Yui's favorite dishes: beef bourguignon stewed to perfection, so tender it melted in her mouth; pan-fried fish fillets with golden, crispy skin and a succulent interior; and a fresh salad arranged like a work of art. Ichiyume ate with elegant grace, her soft voice inquiring about amusing things at Yui's university and gossiping about parish affairs. She skillfully avoided any mention of Yui’s battles as a "Saint," as if it were just an ordinary extracurricular activity.

Immersed in this overly perfect domestic warmth, the subtle tremors remaining in Yui's body from her power's conflict gradually subsided. Yet, beneath the gentle waves, that faint sense of strangeness in her heart remained, like a fine ripple that occasionally brushed the edge of her consciousness, a reminder of her power's special and secretive nature.

After dinner, Yui helped clear the table. As she carried a stack of clean white porcelain plates to the kitchen, her gaze unintentionally swept over a silver photo frame that had sat on the living room wall for years. It was a slightly yellowed photograph of her mother, much younger, beautiful, and happy, dressed in a vintage white wedding gown, leaning against her father, whose figure was tall but whose face had become somewhat blurred with time. The background was an ancient, solemn Japanese Shinto shrine, its crimson torii gate looking deep and strange. Yui had grown up looking at this photo and was used to the shrine in the background, but she had never truly registered its incongruity.

At that moment, a minuscule question flickered through her mind: Why would a devoutly Catholic family, one that had even produced saints and holy maidens for generations, choose to have a wedding at a Shinto shrine?

The thought was gone as quickly as it came, tinged with a sacrilegious chill, too fast to grasp. She instinctively shook her head, telling herself she must be overly tired to harbor such a baseless suspicion.

"Yui, would you make a cup of tea for me? I suddenly have a craving for your tea today." Ichiyume's voice was perfectly gentle, an invitation impossible to refuse. Yui replied, "Of course, right away," and tried to push the jarring doubt from her mind.

She focused on warming the pot, adding the tea leaves, and pouring the water, her movements fluid and graceful, carrying a meditative calm. Ichiyume sat quietly on the sofa, watching her daughter's every move. Her gaze was profound, filled with intense love, yet at the border of light and shadow in its depths, a trace of elusive, alien serenity and a secret anticipation lay hidden, as if she were subtly measuring and sensing Yui's every minute change.

Yui served the freshly brewed tea to her mother. The fragrance was rich. Ichiyume took a small sip and let out a sigh of contentment. "The tea you make always has a special, calming power." She set the cup down, the sound of porcelain against the saucer crisp and pleasant. Her gaze fell softly on her daughter's face as she casually remarked, "Next weekend, why don't we visit the main family? Grandpa and Grandma haven't seen you in a long time. They miss you very much."

"The main family?" Yui’s heart inexplicably tightened. Her mother was referring to the Oumae main house, a cluster of old manors hidden deep in the mountains on the prefectural border. She had rarely gone back since starting high school. Her memories of the Oumae estate were always shrouded in mist: vast, gloomy, ancient wooden buildings; the perpetual scent of incense and something akin to old scriptures hanging in the air; relatives who always wore gentle smiles but had vacant eyes and a subtle synchronicity in their movements; and the two days of deep slumber and fragmented dreams that always followed each visit. All of it made her subconsciously, instinctively resistant.

"Um... Mom, I don't think I can next weekend," Yui began to search for an excuse, a note of urgency in her voice that she herself didn't notice. "There's an important prayer meeting at the church that I have to attend, and with my studies..."

Ichiyume reached out and gently placed her hand over Yui's. Her palm was warm and dry, yet it carried a strange, irrefutable gentleness that made Yui's words catch in her throat.

"We won't stay long, just one night. I'd like to go back and see everyone, too. Besides..."

She paused, leaning forward slightly, her voice dropping lower, softer, as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of them. Her eyes were full of pure concern.

"Have you forgotten? When you were little, every time we came back from the main house, you would feel exceptionally revitalized. That precious 'light' inside you would become more stable. The mountains, the air, and the blessings of our elders there are especially nourishing for you. You use your power so often now, and Mommy is truly worried about you. Just think of it as recharging, won't you?"

Yui was stunned. When I was little... I felt better? My light was more stable? She tried to dig through her hazy memories, but all she could recall was a heavy drowsiness and occasionally waking up to find faint red marks resembling ritualistic runes on parts of her body (which her mother always dismissed as a skin allergy). But right now, her mother's gaze was so sincere, so filled with selfless love. Every expression, every intonation, perfectly matched the image of a mother worried for her daughter's well-being, making all of Yui’s suspicions feel absurd and unfilial.

Maybe... maybe I'm misremembering? Maybe that haziness and discomfort were just a child's aversion to a stern, ancient environment? And maybe it really did benefit my body, in ways I couldn't understand back then?

Looking at her mother's perfect face, etched with anticipation and hidden worry, Yui’s defenses completely crumbled. How could she refuse such a profound and unadulterated display of maternal love?

"...Alright, Mom," she heard her own voice say automatically, as if from a distance. "I'll go back with you."

"That's my good girl." Ichiyume's smile blossomed like the purest flower. She gave Yui a gentle hug. Yui could smell the faint scent that always clung to her, a blend of ancient sandalwood and cold frost. "Don't worry, it will be lovely. After all, that is where my roots are. And it is an inseparable part of your bloodline, too."

A part of my bloodline.

The moment she heard those words, Yui felt as if an icy hand had gently squeezed her heart. A minuscule but undeniable tremor shot through her entire body. It wasn't an emotional reaction, but something more akin to... a resonance triggered in her base programming? A sense of belonging she couldn't control forcibly overwrote her own will. All her resistant thoughts vanished as if they had hit an invisible wall, their functions forcibly cancelled. She could no longer even muster the slightest desire not to go.

She lowered her head and took a sip of the now-lukewarm tea, trying her best to conceal the intense, momentary strangeness she felt.

Outside, night had completely enveloped the city. The warm indoor light illuminated the mother and daughter who depended on each other, the scene as warm and harmonious as a meticulously painted religious icon.

However, Yui did not see, as she lowered her head to hide her inner turmoil, the absolute placidity that flickered across her mother's still-perfect, gentle smile—a look utterly at odds with her usual maternal aura. In the depths of that gaze was not just motherly love, but an interwoven, imperceptible sense of confirmation, as if a command had been successfully executed, and a trace of a nearly undetectable, secret anticipation.

The roots of darkness, like invisible vines, were silently coiling upwards under the perfect disguise of what is called "love," attempting to touch and recalibrate the very core of that pure, holy light.

獵魔聖女--表與裡(1)

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https://twopointfiveworld.blogspot.com/2025/04/1.html

第壹章、手持雙腿的聖女

Chapter 1: The Saint with Detachable Legs

寒風呼嘯著穿過東京深夜的巷弄，捲起地上的碎紙與塵埃。空氣中瀰漫著一股鐵鏽與腐敗的甜膩氣味，令人作嘔。在這片都市的陰影裡，一種非人的、扭曲的存在正潛伏著。

神無月結衣靜立於巷口，一身潔白的修道服在昏暗的環境中彷彿自行散發著微光。她深吸一口氣，那污濁的空氣卻無法玷污她眼中的清澈與堅定。她握緊胸前的十字架，低聲禱告，聲音輕柔卻帶著不容動搖的力量。

「主啊，請賜予我勇氣，斬斷邪惡；請賜予我慈悲，治癒傷痛。」

禱告完畢，她睜開雙眼，目光如炬，鎖定了巷底一團正在蠕動膨脹的黑暗。那是由無數人類負面情緒匯聚而成的低階妖魔，它所經之處，生命凋零，心靈腐化。

「以父之名，止步。」結衣的聲音帶著不容置疑的威嚴。

那團黑暗發出一陣刺耳的嘶鳴，猛地向她撲來！

結衣並未退後。她的神情莊嚴而聖潔，帶著一絲悲憫。她輕聲道：「為了守護，不得不戰。」

她彎下腰，雙手並非伸向武器，而是溫柔地、幾乎是虔誠地，觸碰了自己的雙腿。在那裡，皮膚之下，並非骨骼，而是流淌著熾光的神聖紋路。

「分離。」她輕聲命令。

沒有鮮血，沒有痛苦，只有一道強烈卻溫和的聖光從她大腿根部閃現。她的雙腿自膝蓋上方應聲脫離，過程超乎自然，彷彿它們本就是兩件獨立的聖物。脫離的截面光滑如鏡，閃耀著複雜的金色光紋。

左腿的截面，光紋凝聚，化為一柄古樸而威嚴的劍柄，上面刻滿了希伯來文的禱詞。結衣穩穩握住它，頃刻間，光芒延伸、塑形——她的左腿化作一柄修長的聖劍「天譴之光」，劍身流光熠熠，散發著令邪惡戰慄的純淨氣息。

右腿的截面，則浮現出一個鑲嵌著寶石、象徵十字架的杖頭。她握住曾經是腳踝的位置，光芒匯聚——右腿化為一柄散發著柔和輝光的聖杖「慈悲之撫」，頂端的寶石如同跳動的心臟，蘊含著生生不息的力量。

與此同時，更加不可思議的奇景發生。結衣的背後，一對由純粹光輝構成的潔白羽翼舒展開來，輕輕扇動，灑落點點光塵。她的頭頂，一個璀璨的光環悄然浮現，將她精緻的臉龐映照得如同天使降臨。

失去雙腿的她並未倒下，羽翼輕拍，讓她穩穩懸浮於離地一尺的空中。手持聖劍與聖杖，羽翼光環加身——此刻的她，正是教會所傳頌的，行走於人間的奇蹟，「手持雙腿的聖女」。

瘴魔撲到眼前，那充滿惡意的黑暗觸鬚幾乎要觸碰到她的袍角。

結衣動了。羽翼一振，她的身影如光般迅捷，輕鬆避開攻擊。她揮動聖劍「天譴之光」，劍鋒劃過空氣，留下一道璀璨的光軌。

「淨化！」

劍刃斬入黑暗之中，沒有實體碰撞的感覺，卻發出了如同燒紅的鐵塊浸入冰水般的劇烈嘶響。瘴魔發出痛苦的哀嚎，被劍刃觸及的部分如同遇陽春之雪般消融、蒸發。

緊接著，結衣揮動聖杖「慈悲之撫」。杖頂寶石光芒大盛，溫和的聖光如水波般盪漾開來，籠罩了被瘴魔氣息污染的地面。原本枯萎龜裂的混凝土地面，竟彷彿被滋潤般，那令人不適的腐敗氣息迅速消退，連牆角幾株原本發黃的小草，也微微挺立了起來，重新煥發出微弱的生機。

戰鬥幾乎在瞬間結束。黑暗被徹底驅散，小巷恢復了寧靜，只剩下聖光殘留的溫暖與潔淨。

結衣懸浮在空中，輕輕喘息。每一次使用這份力量，對她而言都是一次奉獻與消耗。她眼中的光芒稍黯，額頭沁出細小的汗珠。

她低頭看向手中的聖劍與聖杖，眼神複雜。有對上帝恩賜的感激，有完成使命的欣慰，但也有一絲深藏眼底、難以言喻的…疏離感。這兩件強大的聖物，曾是她的雙腿，是她身體的一部分。這種轉化，既是奇蹟，也是一種常人無法理解的犧牲。

「感謝主，賜我力量，守護您的羔羊。」她再次輕聲祈禱，彷彿在堅定自己的信念。

光芒漸褪。聖劍與聖杖重新化為雙腿，輕柔地與她的身體接合，恢復如初，甚至看不出任何痕跡。背後的羽翼與頭頂的光環也隨之隱去。她輕輕落回地面，腳踏實地。

就在她準備離開之際，一陣輕微的啜泣聲吸引了她的注意。巷子更深處，一個垃圾桶後面，一個小女孩正蜷縮著瑟瑟發抖，顯然是剛才的異象嚇到了她。

結衣的心瞬間軟化。她走上前，蹲下身，臉上帶著無比溫柔的笑意，之前的威嚴與聖潔盡數化為春風般的暖意。

「沒事了哦，可怕的東西已經被趕跑了。」她的聲音輕柔得能滴出水來，「來，讓姐姐看看你有沒有受傷？」

她伸出手，指尖泛起極其微弱的治癒之光，輕撫女孩擦傷的膝蓋。傷口迅速癒合。

女孩抬起淚眼婆娑的臉，看著結衣溫寒風呼嘯著穿過東京深夜的巷弄，捲起地上的碎紙與塵埃。空氣中瀰漫著混合鐵鏽與腐敗的甜膩氣味，令人作嘔。在繁華都市中的陰影裡，一種非人的扭曲存在正潛伏著。

神無月結衣靜立於巷口，一身潔白的修道服在昏暗的環境中彷彿散發著微光。這身服飾已被教會司祭們以聖油與禱詞祝聖，每一根纖維都浸潤著信仰的力量。她深吸一口氣，污濁的空氣無法玷污她眼中的清澈與堅定。她握緊胸前的十字架，低聲禱告，聲音輕柔卻帶著毫無動搖的力量。

「主啊，請以我為器皿，賜我斬斷邪惡之刃；請以我為通道，賜我治癒傷痛之光。哈利路亞！」

禱告完畢，她睜開雙眼，目光如炬，鎖定了巷底一團正在蠕動膨脹的黑暗。那是由無數人類負面情緒與徘徊靈體匯聚而成的瘴魔，它所經之處，生命凋零，心靈腐化。

「以父之名，止步。」結衣的平靜的聲音帶著源自上蒼的威嚴。

那團黑暗發出一陣刺耳的嘶鳴，化成猙獰的形貌，兇猛地向她撲來！

結衣並未退後。她的神情莊嚴而聖潔，帶著一絲悲憫。她輕聲道：「為了守護，不得不戰。以馬內利！」

她彎下腰，雙手並非伸向武器，而是溫柔虔誠地，觸碰了自己的雙腿。長袍之下，她的肌膚表面開始浮現出複雜而輝煌的金色聖痕，這些紋路由無數微小的祈禱文構成，從大腿根部一路閃耀至腳踝。

「分離，為至高之旨意。」她吟誦道，聲音同時包含著少女的清澈與某種超越人類的共鳴。平時支持她前行的雙腿，即將轉化為支持她行聖道的神蹟。

沒有鮮血，卻有一種靈魂深處的撕裂感沿著大腿爆開。強烈的聖光從她大腿根部閃現，壓制了那股幾乎要令她顫抖的痛楚，如同天使的號角無聲吹響，將她的呻吟吞沒。雙腿自膝蓋上方應聲脫離，過程超乎自然，卻並非毫無抗拒——那一刻，她清晰感覺到自己的血肉在與某種「並非屬於人」的力量對峙，直到被聖光強行淨化。脫離的截面光滑如鏡，並非血肉，而是流淌著熔金般的光芒，其中可見無數細密的神聖符文如鎖鏈般旋轉、重組，彷彿要把她的靈魂重新刻寫。

左腿懸空飄浮，光紋高速凝聚。截斷的大腿傳來一瞬間宛如灼燒般的痛楚，結衣不由自主地咬緊牙關。那不是血肉的疼痛，而是一種靈魂被硬生生剝離的抗拒。光芒壓制了痛楚，在斷面急速重塑出威嚴的十字形劍柄；腿骨與肌腱似乎在尖叫般扭曲，隨即被聖力重塑為神聖的紋理。當左腿伸直，腳尖凝聚聖力時，那份矛盾的撕裂感才逐漸化為純粹的力量，最終成為修長的聖劍（The Sacred Sword）「天譴之光」。劍格璀璨晶透，由結衣左腿形成的劍身上流淌著如活水般的希伯來文禱詞，腿部曲線象徵的劍刃則銳利得彷彿能切開現實與虛幻的邊界，散發著令一切邪惡戰慄的純淨氣息。結衣穩穩握住那由她自身肢體所化的劍柄，人與劍共鳴著同一種神聖頻率。

幾乎同時，她的右腿也被光芒吞沒。那是一股既慈悲又殘酷的力量，先以烈焰般的灼燒逼迫她靈魂呻吟，隨即以洪流般的神聖秩序將其重塑。光芒收斂、塑形，在大腿根部凝結出光耀奪目的權杖頭；她能感覺到骨骼在不屬於人類的角度扭轉，腳掌被聖力固定於小腿的垂直角度，腳踝成為天然的握柄。當一切定型，痛楚才化為平靜，右腿終於成為一柄優雅的聖杖（The Holy Crosier）「慈悲之撫」。杖身潔白如玉，頂端是一個巨大的鑲嵌著聖鑽的十字架，寶石如同跳動的心臟，蘊含著生生不息的治癒之力，柔和卻堅定的輝光如同母親的懷抱，能驅散一切恐懼與創傷。

與此同時，更加不可思議的奇景發生。結衣的背後，衣衫之下突然竄起炙熱的灼痛，彷彿有無形的刻刀在她脊椎深處刻下聖紋。光之脈絡猛然勃發，她忍不住低聲吸氣，那感覺像靈魂被硬生生撕開，為某種更高位的形體讓路。隨著一聲無聲的轟鳴，一對由純粹光輝與神聖幾何構成的巨大羽翼轟然展開，每一次舒張都牽動她的神經，如同燒灼般鮮明。羽毛宛若凝結的光焰，扇動間灑落能排斥黑暗的光塵，卻也令她的胸腔隱隱顫抖。她的頭頂浮現出一枚由能量凝成的光環，閃爍著壓迫靈魂的威嚴，將她精緻的臉龐映照得如同天使降臨——但結衣自己卻感覺，那威嚴與慈愛之下，潛藏著一種令人不安的異質力量。

失去雙腿的她並未倒下，羽翼輕拍，讓她穩穩懸浮於空中。雙手握持由自身肢體所化的聖劍與聖杖，羽翼光環加身——此刻的她，正是教會所秘密傳頌的，行走於人間的活聖蹟，「手持雙腿的聖女」。

瘴魔撲到眼前。黑霧翻湧，不僅是觸鬚般的陰影，更隱約浮現無數人臉般的扭曲輪廓：有人在痛哭、有人憤恨尖叫、有人低聲呢喃著詛咒與祈求。那混雜的聲音如同亡靈合唱，帶著人性的執念與墮落，幾乎要觸碰到她聖潔的袍角。

結衣動了。羽翼一振，她的身影如光般迅捷，在空中劃出優雅的弧線，輕鬆避開攻擊。她雙手交錯，聖劍揮出。

劍刃斬入黑暗之中，沒有實體碰撞的感覺，卻發出了如同燒紅的鐵塊浸入冰水般的劇烈嘶響。瘴魔發出痛苦的哀嚎，被劍刃觸及的部分如同遇陽春之雪般消融、蒸發，其中混雜的怨靈被聖光強制解縛，化作點點螢火般的光點消散於空中。接下來的刺擊，腳尖形成的劍鋒刺入魔核，釋放出的聖力從根源消滅了瘴魔。

緊接著，結衣手握右腳腳踝，揮動聖杖「慈悲之撫」。她按住踝關節，杖頂聖鑽光芒大盛，溫和的聖光如水波般盪漾開來，籠罩了被瘴魔氣息污染的地面與空氣。原本枯萎龜裂的土地，竟彷彿被聖水洗禮般復原；令人不適的腐敗氣息迅速消退，連牆角幾株原本發黃的小草，也微微挺立了起來，重新煥發出微弱的生機。空氣中的邪惡氣息被徹底驅散，取而代之的是一種雨後清新的安寧。

戰鬥幾乎在瞬間結束。黑暗被徹底驅散，小巷恢復了寧靜，只剩下聖光殘留的溫暖與潔淨。

結衣懸浮在空中，輕輕喘息。每一次使用這份力量，對她而言都是一次由信仰心形成的奉獻，也是靈魂的巨大消耗。她眼中的光芒稍黯，額頭沁出細小的汗珠。她還能感覺到，轉化肢體時，體內似乎有兩股截然不同的力量，產生瞬間的激烈摩擦，就像兩頭困於同一牢籠的野獸在互相咆哮，這遠比單純的精神疲憊更令人痛苦。

她低頭看向手中的聖劍與聖杖，眼神複雜。有對上帝恩賜的感激，有完成使命的欣慰，但也有一絲深藏眼底、難以言喻的…疏離與困惑。這兩件強大的聖物，頃刻前仍是她的雙腿，是她行走於世的憑藉。這種將自我肢體獻祭為武器的過程，既是無上榮耀的奇蹟，也是一種常人無法理解的怪異奉獻。

「感謝主，藉我這不配之軀，展現您的威能與慈愛。阿門。」她再次輕聲祈禱，聲音微顫，彷彿在努力安撫體內仍未完全平息的波瀾。

戰鬥結束後，結衣緩緩將聖劍與聖杖置於地面。她的手指微微顫抖，彷彿還留著靈魂被撕裂時的餘痛。光芒開始褪去，劍柄與杖頭漸漸化為純粹的光流，卻並非全然溫和，那光在回流時穿過她的身體，如數百條冰冷鎖鏈鑽入骨髓。神器再次變回結衣的雙腿，脫離身體獨自立於地面，雖屬於她，卻帶著陌生的威壓。

即使是自己的肢體，結衣也不敢怠慢神蹟的容器。她屏住呼吸，以恭謹和一絲歉意，緩緩飄浮至雙腿之上，對準、下降、接合。接觸瞬間，一股滲入靈魂的刺痛令她輕顫，但很快一切恢復如初。背後的羽翼與頭頂的光環也化作萬千光點，逐漸消散。當雙腿再次承受她的重量時，那並不是單純的安心，而是帶著難以言喻的疏離感。她稍稍低頭，看著再次屬於自己的雙腿，輕輕地踩出腳步，心底卻升起一種陌生又真實的沉重。

就在她準備離開之際，一陣輕微的啜泣聲吸引了她的注意。巷子更深處的垃圾桶後面，藏了一個小女孩，正蜷縮著瑟瑟發抖，顯然是剛才的異象嚇到了她。

結衣的心瞬間軟化。她走上前，蹲下身，臉上帶著無比溫柔的笑意，之前的威嚴與聖潔盡數化為春風般的溫暖。

「沒事了哦，可怕的東西已經被趕跑了。」她的聲音輕柔得能滴出水來，「來，讓姐姐看看你有沒有受傷？」

她伸出手，指尖泛起極其微弱的治癒之光，輕撫女孩擦傷的膝蓋。傷口迅速癒合。

女孩抬起淚眼婆娑的臉，看著結衣溫暖的笑容和身上彷彿還殘留的光輝，停止了哭泣，小聲問道：「姊姊…謝謝。你是天使嗎？」

結衣微微一怔，那瞬間，她體內似乎有某個冰冷的構造因這個稱呼而觸發了細微的反應，但她迅速將其壓下。結衣莞爾，輕輕摸了摸女孩的頭：「我只是…一個希望世界能變得更美好的人。你的家在哪裡？我送你回去。」

將女孩安全送到在附近焦急尋找的父母手中，面對他們的千恩萬謝，結衣只是謙卑地微笑搖頭，悄然離去。

走在返回教堂的路上，夜色已深。結衣抬頭望向被都市霓虹映照得有些朦朧的星空。

她想起幼年那場幾乎奪走她性命的大病，想起在彌留之際所見到的那片溫暖到讓人想流淚的聖光，以及模糊卻充滿愛意的聲音：「孩子，我將予你重任，予你力量…」

她也想起更早之前，一些破碎而不連貫的畫面：冰冷的石室、閃爍的蠟燭陣列、低沉的吟誦、還有數雙充滿非人期待的眼睛…她總是迅速將這些記憶歸類為高燒時的噩夢。

她下意識地摸了摸自己的雙腿。這份力量是祝福，也是重擔。它讓她遠離了普通女大學生的生活，卻也給了她守護他人的能力。

「我的存在，是為了散播光明。」她對自己輕聲說，彷彿在確認某種誓言，試圖說服某個潛藏的自我。

然而，在那份堅定的信仰之下，一絲微不可察的漣漪悄然蕩開——當她使用力量時，那瞬間與「非人」之感的接觸；當聖劍斬滅邪惡時，偶爾心底閃過的並非全然憎惡而是某種類似理解的異樣悲傷…

她搖了搖頭，將這絲疑慮歸咎於戰鬥後的疲憊與神經過敏。

「願主指引我的道路，堅固我的信心。」

白色的身影消失在教堂宏偉的陰影之中，彷彿融入了那片她發誓守護的光明與之對立的黑暗裡。此刻的她還不知道，這條信仰之路，遠比她所想像的更為曲折、更為黑暗，也更與她自身最深層的秘密緊密相連。她雙足踏過的地面，留下的不僅是腳印，更是兩個古老而強大力量綿延鬥爭的痕跡；而她，正是這場鬥爭最核心、最矛盾的焦點。

​A biting wind howled through the narrow alleyways of late-night Tokyo, swirling up scattered scraps of paper and dust. The air was thick with a nauseatingly sweet stench of rust and decay. In the urban shadows, a twisted, non-human presence lurked.

​Kagurazuki Yui stood still at the mouth of the alley. Her pure white nun's habit seemed to emit a soft glow in the dim light. She took a deep breath, but the foul air couldn't tarnish the clarity and resolve in her eyes. She clasped the crucifix at her chest, her voice soft yet filled with unshakable power as she prayed.

​"O Lord, grant me the courage to vanquish evil; grant me the compassion to heal the wounded."

​After her prayer, she opened her eyes. Her gaze, sharp as a flame, locked onto a pulsating, growing mass of darkness at the end of the alley. It was a low-level demon born from a culmination of human negative emotions. Wherever it passed, life withered and souls corrupted.

​"In the name of the Father, cease," Yui's voice was filled with undeniable authority.

​The mass of darkness let out a piercing shriek and lunged at her.

​Yui did not retreat. Her expression was solemn and sacred, tinged with a hint of sorrow. "To protect, I must fight," she said softly.

​She bent down, not reaching for a weapon, but gently, almost reverently, touching her own legs. Beneath her skin, there were no bones, but flowing, incandescent divine patterns.

​"Separate," she commanded softly.

​There was no blood, no pain, only an intense yet gentle holy light that flashed from the top of her thighs. Her legs detached just above the knees, the process so unnatural it was as if they were two separate sacred artifacts all along. The severed surfaces were as smooth as mirrors, gleaming with intricate golden patterns.

​On the surface of her left leg, the patterns coalesced, forming an ancient and majestic sword hilt engraved with Hebrew prayers. Yui gripped it firmly. In an instant, a brilliant light extended and took shape—her left leg became a slender holy sword, the "Blade of Retribution". The blade flowed with light, radiating a pure aura that made evil tremble.

​On the surface of her right leg, a jewel-encrusted staff head, symbolizing a cross, emerged. She held what was once her ankle, and light converged—her right leg transformed into a holy staff, the "Embrace of Mercy", glowing with a gentle radiance. The jewel at its tip pulsed like a beating heart, containing an endless wellspring of life.

​At the same time, an even more incredible sight occurred. From Yui's back, a pair of pure white wings made of pure light unfolded. With a gentle flutter, they scattered specks of light dust. A brilliant halo quietly appeared above her head, illuminating her delicate face as if an angel had descended.

​Even without her legs, she didn't fall. A gentle beat of her wings allowed her to hover steadily a foot above the ground. Holy sword and staff in hand, wings and halo in place—at this moment, she was the very miracle sung of by the Church, a living saint known as the "Saint with Detachable Legs".

​The demon closed in, its malicious dark tentacles nearly touching the hem of her robe.

​Yui moved. With a flutter of her wings, her figure was as swift as light, effortlessly dodging the attack. She swung the holy sword, the "Blade of Retribution", its edge leaving a brilliant light trail in the air.

​"Purify!"

​The blade sliced into the darkness. There was no sensation of physical contact, but a violent hissing sound, like a red-hot iron block plunged into icy water. The demon let out a painful wail as the parts touched by the blade melted and evaporated like snow in the spring sun.

​Next, Yui swung the holy staff, the "Embrace of Mercy". The jewel on the staff's tip burst with light. A gentle holy radiance spread out like ripples, enveloping the ground corrupted by the demon's aura. The withered and cracked concrete ground seemed to be nourished, and the nauseating stench quickly receded. Even a few yellowish blades of grass in the corner of the wall straightened slightly, regaining a faint spark of life.

​The battle ended in an instant. The darkness was completely dispelled, and the alley returned to a state of peace, with only the residual warmth and purity of the holy light remaining.

​Yui hovered in the air, breathing softly. Each time she used this power, it was an act of offering and exhaustion for her. The light in her eyes dimmed slightly, and small beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

​She looked down at the holy sword and staff in her hands, her expression complex. There was gratitude for God's grace and relief from completing her mission, but also a subtle, ineffable sense of... detachment hidden deep within her eyes. These two powerful holy artifacts were once her legs, a part of her body. This transformation was both a miracle and a sacrifice that an ordinary person could not understand.

​"Thank you, Lord, for granting me the strength to protect your lambs," she prayed softly again, as if reaffirming her faith.

​The light gradually faded. The holy sword and staff reverted back to her legs, softly reattaching to her body, restoring them to their original state without a trace. The wings and halo also vanished. She gently landed back on the ground, her feet once again touching the earth.

​Just as she was about to leave, a faint sound of sobbing caught her attention. Deeper in the alley, behind a trash can, a little girl was huddled and trembling, clearly frightened by the earlier spectacle.

​Yui's heart instantly softened. She walked over, knelt down, her face filled with an incomparably gentle smile. Her previous authority and sanctity all melted into a gentle warmth.

​"It's okay now, the scary thing is gone," her voice was soft enough to be described as liquid. "Come, let big sister see if you're hurt."

​She extended her hand, and an extremely faint healing light shimmered at her fingertips as she gently touched the girl's scraped knee. The wound healed rapidly.

​The girl lifted her tear-filled face, looking at Yui's warm smile and the light that seemed to still linger around her. She stopped crying and asked in a small voice, "...Are you an angel?"

​Yui was momentarily stunned, then she smiled and gently patted the girl's head. "I'm just... someone who hopes the world can be a better place. Where do you live? I'll walk you home."

​After safely returning the girl to her worried parents who were frantically searching for her, Yui humbly smiled and shook her head at their profuse thanks before quietly slipping away.

​Walking back to the church, the night had grown deep. Yui looked up at the star-filled sky, slightly blurred by the city's neon lights.

​She recalled the severe illness in her childhood that almost took her life, and the warm, tear-inducing holy light she saw in her final moments, and the hazy but loving voice: "My child, I will give you a great responsibility, and I will give you power..."

​She subconsciously touched her legs. This power was both a blessing and a burden. It had taken her away from the life of a normal college student, yet it had also given her the ability to protect others.

​"My existence is for the purpose of spreading light," she said to herself softly, as if confirming a vow.

​However, beneath her unwavering faith, a subtle ripple quietly spread—the momentary contact with a "non-human" feeling when she used her power; the strange feeling that occasionally flashed in her heart when facing evil, which wasn't entirely loathing...

​She shook her head, attributing this trace of doubt to post-battle fatigue.

​"May the Lord guide my path."

​The white figure disappeared into the grand shadow of the church, as if merging with the light she had vowed to protect and the darkness she had vowed to oppose. She did not yet know that this path of faith was far more winding and dark than she could ever have imagined, and it was inextricably linked.