Chapter II: The Opening Shot of a Battle Has to Be Flashy

A command post for the army of Nephilims had been set up in the large prairie located several dozen kilometers to the west of Kianoides. The army was composed of heroes from ages past, but judging by their night patrols, they still needed rest like any others.

Lieutenant Commander Senju poured a cup of coffee in the main tent. Despite his title, he was still a young man in his midthirties, though obviously, the concept of age didn’t really make sense to this entire group. He’d died at the age of thirty-five, anyway.

“Here you go, Captain Gariel... Oops, I suppose I should refer to you as Commander Gariel now.”

The commander staring down at a map with a scowl was supposed to be the same age as Senju, but looked a fair bit older. This was probably because he’d died at a far later date.

“Just refer to me as Gariel, like before. If you call me Commander Gariel after all this time, I’ll feel restless like there’s a knife at my back at all times,” the commander replied in a disconcerted tone as Senju held out the cup of coffee to him with a wry smile on his face. “To think that I’d get stuck having to team up with you again after passing on.”

“It shocks me too... You did win the battle after using me as a sacrificial pawn, right?”

“I did... That fight, at least.”

“What does that mean?” Senju asked, narrowing his gaze sharply.

“Azazel is a god... Defeating it once or twice wasn’t enough to truly destroy it,” the commander answered, taking a sip of his coffee and grimacing. “During the second battle, we lost two Silver-Eyed Kings. In the third, we had no Silver-Eyed King. Me, Bato, and everyone else died.”

“But the world is still intact.”

“Yeah... Marchosias and Alshiera probably figured something out. Bet they paid some kind of unfathomable price too.”

The Marchosias that Senju knew was the sort of man who treated human life as an expenditure to fulfill his goal with little care. He was far more desperate to save the world than any other. That was why everyone had followed him, even if he was inhuman. He would surely have thrown away his own life without any complaints in order to secure the future. That terrifying god didn’t exist in this world anymore, after all. That was why Senju and the commander agonized over these facts.

“Now then, what exactly should we be fighting against with the gods gone?” the commander muttered.

Senju had been revived by one of this generation’s Archdemons, Shere Khan. Then, he’d been commanded to obliterate the town of Kianoides.

“According to the scouts, Kianoides is a normal, lively town,” Senju reported. “There are no more than a hundred and fifty knights stationed there. People called sorcerers do come and go all the time, but most of the population are ignorant, innocent civilians.”

The commander let out a long sigh and replied, “To think we, who’d staked our lives protecting the world, would have to slaughter innocent civilians.”

The ones gathered here were heroes who’d fought and died for the same cause. Not a single one would happily obey such an absurd order.

“So? What do you plan on doing?” Senju asked.

There was no just cause and no righteousness in this fight. They didn’t understand what Shere Khan was thinking, but it didn’t seem like this battle was meant to protect anything. Perhaps an inhuman enemy hid in this town, but that still wasn’t a reason to slaughter the citizens.

“For now, we have no choice but to obey,” the commander stated. “You saw what happened to those guys who defied him, right? As such, we’ll pretend to follow orders and wait for the right opportunity.”

“Well, I guess there’s no other way.”

However, doing that meant they couldn’t avoid cutting down faultless civilians.

“Haaah... If it was going to end up like this, I’d rather not have gotten promoted,” the commander said with a bitter smile. “Let’s do our best to keep the deaths to a minimum. For both our enemies and our allies, obviously.”

“You remember ordering me to die in battle, right?”

“This time I won’t let you die. This time...you’ll come back alive.”

Despite his cynicism, Senju wasn’t all that dissatisfied with the situation. Gariel took far better care of his subordinates than Bato did, at least. Bato was a talented strategist, but his thought pattern closely mirrored Marchosias’s, so even though his strategies almost always worked, they often involved many sacrifices. Senju had no intention of dying a dog’s death here. Keeping both enemies and allies alive would be quite a strenuous task, but it was one worth doing.

“If we’re not killing our enemies, then Sir Kongo won’t be taking the front,” Senju said. “His Hex Blade can even cross dimensions to cut down his foes, so it’s incapable of doing the equivalent of striking with the back of a blade.”

“The Sword King? That’s why I’m having him guard our headquarters. He understands this himself, so he didn’t complain.”

Kongo was a master swordsman from their generation who had been bestowed the title Sword King. He hadn’t been chosen by the Seraphic Blades, but he was said to surpass even the Silver-Eyed King in skill. Anyone who saw his golden armor, emblazoned with the heroic emblem of an eagle, believed in their inevitable victory. That same armor still remained in perfect condition, making Senju feel a hint of pity for their enemies. This entire army was made of resurrected heroes. They were the elites who’d fought to the bitter end even after being told they faced a god.

“Gariel... Does it seem almost too quiet to you?” Senju asked, feeling a sudden sense of unease.

“Hm...? Now that you mention it, it does.”

It was the middle of the night, but there were still soldiers out on patrol. Thus, it was far too unnatural to hear no voices whatsoever, let alone the lack of the slightest noise from armored footsteps.

Raiders...? Senju thought. They had a military encampment set up, so one or two enemy attacks wasn’t unexpected. He turned for the exit of the tent.

“Gariel, I’ll go take a look around. You make sure to keep...?”

Even after he called out to the commander, no reply came. Senju turned around and was left utterly speechless. The commander he’d just been speaking to no longer had a head. A second later, a fountain of blood spurted from the decapitated body.

“Gariel?!”

Just as he tried to run over to the fallen commander, Senju felt a dreadful chill and jumped back. Immediately following that, an arm crawled out of the space he’d just been occupying.

What the hell is that?! Is it what killed Gariel?!

The arm looked far too weak to sever a human head, however. Judging that the surprise attack had failed, a body followed it out into the open.

“Tch... What a pain in the ass. Don’t dodge, dammit.”

He was a gloomy-looking man who had a mess of disheveled hair and a sickly complexion. Large bags hung beneath his eyes, while many amulets dangled from his neck, clanging together as he moved.

Is this a sorcerer?! Senju thought as he kept his sword at the ready, fell back, and leaped out of the tent.

“Enemy attack!” he shouted for attention, but suddenly slipped. It hadn’t been raining, yet the ground was wet. Before Senju could question why, a horrible scent assaulted his nose, bringing about an urge to vomit.

This was a scent he’d gotten accustomed to during his life—the smell of blood. He then saw what was around him. Everywhere he looked, soldiers were immobile on the ground. There was no need to check if they were alive.

They’d been annihilated. Senju could tell that he was the only one still breathing here. Furthermore, there was an unbelievable sight mixed in among the bodies—a golden set of armor engraved with the crest of an eagle. It was the symbol of the strongest swordsman. That armor, stained in blood, was also missing a head.

“Impossible. Even Sir Kongo...?”

“Sorry ’bout that. I didn’t mean for it to be a massacre like this, but that’s just how things turned out,” the sorcerer said as he waltzed out of the tent. Senju quaked in fear. Even the man who’d been undoubtedly the strongest of their generation, bestowed with the Hex Blade, had no way of dealing with this sorcerer. Senju turned pale as the gloomy man looked down at him in pity.

“No need to piss yourself. I actually sympathize with you assholes. I’ll at least make sure you don’t feel nothin’ when I kill you.”

Sweat slicked Senju’s grip on his sword. Even the Sword King had been defeated by this sorcerer without so much as being able to raise his voice. Not only that, but all the soldiers present had been slaughtered without anyone even noticing. Senju didn’t believe even the seraphs of the first Silver-Eyed King’s age were capable of such a feat.

Aaah, it’s the same feeling as back then...

When Senju had first died, it had felt like a knife was constantly at his throat...and he could now feel death right before him, just like back then. Senju took in a small breath. If he was the type to sit back and let himself get killed, he wouldn’t have considered challenging a god in battle a thousand years ago. No matter how hopeless things appeared, these heroes were those who always struggled to the bitter end.

“Don’t belittle me,” Senju said. “Even if I’m no match for you, I can at least drag you down to hell with me.”

“I ain’t belittling none of ya. You guys really are heroes,” the man replied. Despite his tremendous power, the sorcerer didn’t show any pride or carelessness. “That’s why I can’t possibly let you guys fight the crybaby. I don’t got no grudge with you assholes, and I think y’all are pretty damn amazin’, but you’ll hafta die here.”

Nothing he said made any sense, but Senju could still understand. This man had something he had to protect. He was the same as they’d been a thousand years ago. That was what made him strong. That was why he couldn’t afford to lose.

“You face Silver Army Captain Senju Kanno. Prepare yourself!”

“Purgatory Barbatos. I’ll be the next Archdemon.”

The sorcerer swept his arm through the empty air. That was the last thing Senju saw. In the next instant, his entire vision turned red.

What happened?

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. Yet surprisingly, he felt no pain. And as his consciousness faded, he recalled the sight of the headless Gariel.

Now that I think about it, where did his head go...?

Up until the very end, Senju didn’t realize that his head had been sent right next to Gariel’s.

◇

“———”

Right around the time Barbatos assassinated the officers, a song reverberated through Shere Khan’s military encampment. There were no words. It was a melody made entirely of sound. The beautiful, yet melancholic, tune had an ominous charm to it that made all hearken to it involuntarily. One of the patrolmen even instinctively let out a sigh.

“Is that...singing? What a beautiful voice.”

“We’re pretty far from town. Where is it coming from?”

“A battle’s about to begin. Someone’s probably just immersed in the sentimentality of it.”

Shere Khan’s soldiers truly numbered ten thousand. Anywhere from a third to half of them were women, so it wouldn’t have been strange for one or two of them to start singing.

“You’re right. It does sound like a requiem. It’s beautiful, but somewhat depressing as well.”

It felt like something was squeezing on their hearts as they heard the sad song. Perhaps it was a desire to repent the fact that they had to kill innocents. Awoken by the song, several soldiers walked out of their tents.

“Looks like you’re all curious about the singing too,” the patrolman said to them.

“Yeah... What a beautiful song...”

The patrolman furrowed his brow. The soldiers coming out of the tents all had unfocused eyes...and it didn’t look like that was simply because they’d just woken up.

“H-Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

“She’s calling me.”

“What are you—?!”

The patrolman had reached out to shake another man’s shoulders, but was then forced to leap back. The other man had suddenly drawn his sword.

“She’s calling me!” the delirious man yelled, swinging his sword in a frenzy. “I have to go!”

“Gh! What’s going on?! Whatever. Hold him down!”

The remaining soldiers stirred awake upon hearing the patrolman’s voice. They rushed out of their tents in a fluster to pin the frenzied man down.

“Let me go! Let me gooo!”

The rampaging soldier’s strength was abnormal. He swung off all the others who’d tried to hold him down with startling ease.

“What’s going on here?!” a soldier yelled.

“I don’t know! But don’t kill him!” the patrolman ordered.

Among the charms the seraphs used in the past, there’d been one malicious case that could spread death when the victim was killed. Their toys reacted in amusing ways when this happened, after all. Moreover, if they killed him, they wouldn’t be able to interrogate him. They had to keep him alive and find out what was going on. Such had been the order, but...

“Hrk?!”

A sword plunged into the rampaging soldier’s throat. The one to do it had been the other soldier on patrol.

“What the hell?! Why did you kill him?!”

When the patrolman tried to grab the killer’s shoulder, he finally noticed the abnormality.

Who is this...?

The soldier who’d been patrolling with him had suddenly become someone unfamiliar.

“Oh, come on,” the unknown man said with a grin. “What kind of question is that? It’s kill or be killed, right?”

“A-An intruder!” the patrolman instantly came to that conclusion and screamed. The others reacted immediately. However, the intruder didn’t try to run away or put up a fight. Instead, he recklessly dove into the middle of all the soldiers. The unexpected action had several of the soldiers tumbling to the ground. Following that, everyone froze in place.

“Hey, who did that...?”

The intruder was nowhere to be seen.

He’s gone...? No! He’s pretending to be someone else!

Four of the soldiers who’d fallen to the ground stood back up, but nobody had the time to look for the culprit.

“I have to rush to her side!”

The dead soldier hadn’t been the only one to go mad. On the contrary, as the patrolman looked around, he heard similar cries coming from all over the place. It seemed this attack was taking place across the entire encampment. The sudden insanity among the soldiers was already causing many casualties as it was, and there was even an intruder among them maneuvering in the shadows.

“This is the intruder’s doing! Find him!” the patrolman yelled.

“Who is it?!”

“I don’t know! He’s pretending to be one of us!”

Several shouts went around, but that only further spread the chaos. Knowledge of an intruder was made known, leading the sane soldiers to believe that this madness was their doing. However, the intruder was pretending to be one of them.

“How are we supposed to find someone like that?!”

Despite the patrolman’s rage, the intruder kept appearing here and there, cutting down his comrades and vanishing each and every time.

What the hell is this...? Is he provoking me?

The intruder was cutting people down, but most of the victims were left breathing. Many of them had only suffered minor scratches for some reason.

Perhaps the time he could spend imitating another was limited in some way, but there was still no need for him to try to stand out. With the ongoing chaos, it would’ve been simpler to slip away once nobody knew who he was anymore.

“Crap! It’s a diversion! Don’t be misled! He’s a decoy!”

The more yelling there was, the more the chaos spread. Killing people would spread fear, but it would also keep people on guard and keep the chaos to a minimum. In other words, the intruder was trying to conceal something else by attracting attention to himself. In that case, what was he hiding? The patrolman came to the answer immediately.

The song!

The requiem was still reverberating through the encampment. Thinking back on it, this had all started with that melody. However, nobody around him was calm enough to pay attention to his orders.

I’ll have to do it myself!

All the Nephilims resurrected by Shere Khan were heroes of the past. The patrolman also possessed the strength and wit necessary to rival such a title. Thus, he dashed off on his own toward the source of the singing, sure of his victory. After running for a while, he came upon a lake in the middle of all the tents. The encampment had been set up here to make use of the lake as a water source, so that was only natural. There was a girl at the edge of the lake. She looked somewhere around seventeen or eighteen, not yet old enough to call a woman. Her beautiful waist-long blue hair swayed about as she remained seated on a rock and innocently continued her song. He could tell what she was based on the characteristic fins she had for ears.

A siren...?

Illuminated under the half-moon, her figure appeared abnormal. First, she had no arms. Well, she did, but the long sleeves of her overcoat tied her arms up entirely with belts and chains. The belts had ominous crests carved along their length, while an enormous lock hung over her chest as if holding them all together. It looked like some sort of straitjacket, honestly.

“A girl...? You’re the one responsible for this chaos?!”

When he shouted, the girl finally realized he was there and opened her eyes. Blue pupils the same color as her hair peered back at him. Even as the patrolman readied his sword, she continued her song.

“I don’t want to cut a girl down, but I have no choice! Prepare your—!”

The soldier brandished his sword, but suddenly couldn’t feel the hilt in his hand anymore.

“Sorry. I borrowed her. Touching is off-limits.”

The sword that should’ve been in his hand was somehow sticking out of the patrolman’s own chest.

“Gah... Hak...”

And without even understanding what had happened, he perished.

◇

The soldier collapsed with a thud.

“Hmph. He sniffed this place out pretty quick. I’m sure the guy had skill.”

Barbatos now understood that every single soldier here was elite. It would be dangerous even for a first-rate sorcerer to take them head-on. With that thought in mind, he let out a groan.

“So wait, am I actually really strong...?”

If so, why did he always get punched by Zagan and pushed around? Barbatos nearly let out a long sigh, but he had no choice but to keep at it with the seat of an Archdemon dangling in front of him. The girl in the straitjacket stared at him as he grumbled to himself.

“Oh, don’t mind me. You just keep singing. I still haven’t hit half my quota yet.”

Upon hearing that, the girl nodded and got back to singing her Hex Song.

A blue-haired siren... Is she Zagan and that other siren’s relative?

Sirens were already a rare species to begin with, but blue-haired specimens were especially rare. Maybe they were connected somehow. It had nothing to do with Barbatos, but it did pique his interest.

“Levia!” called a voice shortly after Barbatos had finished off the soldier approaching the girl. A strangely dressed man ran toward them. He wore a typical robe, but had several thick leather belts wrapped around his face. From the tiny part of a red eye that was barely visible through the gaps, he could at least be identified as somewhat human.

Barbatos had no idea about his physique, but his voice was that of a young man. The girl’s body was covered in bindings, just like the man’s face. This was Behemoth, while the girl was Leviathan. Zagan had lent these two sorcerers to Barbatos. Seeing Leviathan hum her Hex Song, Behemoth let out a sigh of relief.

“Barbatos, did you protect her?” he asked.

“I always return what I borrow. No way I’m gonna give you two back broken.”

If Zagan had heard Barbatos say that, he’d likely have flown over with Shadow Sever to punch him in the face.

“I thought you were more selfish a man,” Behemoth said with a surprised look on his face. “Allow me to apologize.”

“Huh? Sorcerers are selfish by nature. The hell are you saying?”

“Ha ha. Let’s just leave it at that, then,” Behemoth stated as he smiled, perhaps under some kind of misunderstanding. After that, his red eye shifted to Barbatos’s arm. “To think you’d get injured. He must have been quite skilled.”

Only then did Barbatos notice the blood running down his right arm.

“Oh. Nah, someone else did this. The commander here had some asshole in flashy gold armor protecting him. He’s the one who hit me.”

“I guess if they aim for when you come out of the shadows, even you can get hurt, huh?” Behemoth commented with an understanding nod.

“Nope, I got cut while inside the shadows,” Barbatos said with a shake of the head. “Honestly, it freaked me the hell out. Thanks to that, I got stuck having to massacre the whole lot of them.”

Barbatos would’ve been fine only assassinating the commander and his lieutenant, but he’d been detected by the man in golden armor. He never thought a sword would reach him inside the shadows, so it shook him pretty badly. And as a result, he’d ended up having to kill every last one of them.

“He cut you inside your shadow...?” Behemoth asked in disbelief. “Was he actually stronger than an Archangel?”

“Who knows? Archangels come in all sorts, apparently.”

Barbatos had been under the impression that all Archangels were about as strong as Chastille, but that wasn’t at all the case. They had a ranking system based on individual strength. The weakest of them weren’t all that much stronger than the average Angelic Knight. On the other hand, Barbatos wasn’t confident he’d be able to kill the upper ranks like Raphael. If one took the average, then the golden armored guy had, in fact, been stronger.

In terms of pure skill, forget the average, he might’ve been better than the crybaby...

The power to cut Barbatos in the shadows likely came from his weapon, but the ability to sense him had definitely been pure skill on the man’s part. No knight in this generation could match him, which made it all the more fortuitous that Barbatos had killed him.

“Oh... But I guess we’ve got that catgirl at the crybaby’s place too.”

He spoke, of course, of Kuroka. Barbatos’s assassination technique involved opening subspace right above his target’s neck and closing it. Under the right conditions, he could even kill the likes of an Archdemon. This was Barbatos’s arena. One big reason he could unilaterally slaughter the heroes, who probably surpassed the Archangels, was because they didn’t truly understand sorcery.

Kuroka, on the other hand, knew sorcerers all too well. Annoyingly enough, that girl specialized in killing sorcerers. Her swords probably couldn’t reach Barbatos in the shadows, but unlike these guys, she’d be able to dodge the moment he tried to decapitate her and counterattack. If they fought, he’d be dragged out of his arena. What’s more, she was stupidly skilled with a sword. Barbatos feared having to seriously fight Zagan the most, but Kuroka came a close second.

Anyway, this wound is healing awful slow.

It wasn’t that deep, but sorcery wasn’t having much of an effect on it. If he didn’t at least stop the bleeding, the smell and blood trail could give him away. The soldiers here were all elites beyond the average Angelic Knight, after all. Thus, Barbatos tore off a piece of cloth and wrapped up his wound as Behemoth ran over to Levia and put his hand to her cheek.

“Levia, don’t push yourself, okay?” he said, turning a gallant gaze toward her. “If you get tired, just take a break.”

Behemoth acted as if he was handling the most fragile of treasures. This piqued Barbatos’s curiosity.

“You two know each other long?” he asked.

“Hm? Let’s see... Five hundred years, I think?” Behemoth answered.

“It’s only been 498 years,” Levia corrected, her voice sounding like a crystal chime. She stopped her song and leaned against Behemoth’s shoulder.

“You’re right. So it still hasn’t been five hundred years...” Behemoth said, gently stroking her hair.

Five hundred years? Don’t that make them real big-shot sorcerers? Barbatos thought as he groaned.

Sorcerers gained might in proportion to the knowledge they stockpiled. Thus, in their world, the accumulation of knowledge was the same as the accumulation of age. Even Enchantress Gremory was only five hundred years old. The youngest Archdemon before Zagan had just hit three hundred at the time. Even at a somewhat leisurely pace, five hundred years was enough to reach the territory of the Archdemons.

These two did, in fact, possess terrifying power. Levia’s Hex Song had enchanted an army of ten thousand, while Behemoth had fought off elite soldiers who could even wound Barbatos without killing most of them. Zagan hadn’t been lying when he called them talented.

That didn’t only apply to these two either. Shax was so skilled a sorcerer that Barbatos often wondered how he didn’t have a second name. In fact, many terrifying sorcerers with no second names worked under Zagan. How could Barbatos not be curious about them? The Archdemon’s seat was within his grasp, so it bothered him all the more.

“Don’t you two care about building your reputations?” Barbatos asked.

“Hm? Oh... Our reason for wanting power is a little different from other sorcerers,” Behemoth replied.

“What do you mean?”

Behemoth paused for a moment, touching Levia’s cheek once more. He had a nostalgic yet somber look in his eyes as he gave his answer.

“Levia and I had a...troublesome curse cast on us during a certain incident. We became sorcerers in order to dispel it.”

“A curse, huh? Well, that’s no good...”

Several months ago, Barbatos had witnessed the incident with Decarabia/Stella on that uninhabited island. There’d also been the case of Zagan turning into a child—which was honestly hilarious. None of these cases were due to sorcery, and each had been accompanied by a fathomless eeriness that violated their very beings from their roots.

Behemoth undid the bindings over his face a little, revealing what they hid beneath. His skin was densely covered in thick hair.

“A therianthrope...? No...what are you?” Barbatos asked.

“Who knows? I certainly don’t. I’ve got a bit of cow, elephant, and even horse in me, apparently. I can’t even see for myself,” he said. The man was likely some kind of chimera. Barbatos grimaced as Behemoth continued, “We were transformed by this curse. I become like this at night, while Levia changes during the day. When we turn, we forget who we even are and can no longer communicate.”

“So you became sorcerers to fix that?”

Levia nodded, then whispered, “But...it was all for nothing.”

“Our five hundred years of work ended in vain,” Behemoth added. However, oddly enough, both of them were in human form now and could talk, strange as they were. “That’s why our power is just kind of a side bonus. We didn’t acquire strength because we wanted to. It wasn’t what we sought at all.”

Five hundred years. At twenty-one, Barbatos couldn’t even imagine that length of time. This fact was unknown to Barbatos, but even Archdemon Furcas had been crushed by such a length of time and had forgotten what he’d been searching for. Still, for whatever reason, Barbatos felt a sense of affinity with these two.

“How do I put this...? Weren’t you scared?” he asked them. “It was five hundred years, yeah? And you couldn’t even talk to each other? Forget turning back, didn’t you wonder whether you even remembered each other? You lived in different places and times, after all...”

For some reason, Barbatos was reminded of that stupidly serious girl’s face.

Oh, right. Sorcerers and Angelic Knights live in different places and times too...

Behemoth and Levia exchanged looks, then answered as if they did not need to give his question any serious thought.

“Even so, we wanted to see each other once more,” they replied in unison.

The difference between them and Furcas was that they’d sought each other out. Even if one had been about to give up, they’d stayed strong and endured so long as the other believed in the possibility. By doing so, the two of them had lived for five hundred years, even if it felt like it had all been in vain.

“Because you wanted to see each other... Is that kinda reason enough...?” Barbatos muttered.

“I don’t know who you’re asking that question for, but it was for us,” Behemoth said. “That’s why we’ll continue living until we can see each other properly again.”

Barbatos didn’t even know whom he’d been asking that for himself, but the words still felt like some sort of salvation to him.

“Hmph. You two are kinda fun,” he said, ruffling his hair before forming his usual smile. “You’ve grown on me. When I take the seat of Archdemon, I’ll let you two be my underlings. I’ll treat you good, you hear?”

Before Behemoth could answer, Levia shook her head. She then squeezed Behemoth’s arm tightly.

“I’m fine with working for Zagan...” she said. “That boy’s place is cozy.”

“So she says,” Behemoth added with a shrug. “Sorry, try someone else.”

“Tch... Your loss. You’ll regret this,” Barbatos said, having just finished wrapping up his wound. “Anyway, I’m goin’ back to work now. Gotta off another fifty people before the night’s over.”

An army couldn’t be put into action by one man’s will. Even if there was only one commander, they needed many officers for orders to be relayed properly. Officers went all the way down to the squad level of just a handful of men, so in an army of ten thousand, there were hundreds of them.

Barbatos’s job was to assassinate around a hundred officers. An army without a head couldn’t function as an army, after all. That would buy a significant amount of time until they could reorganize their ranks. Barbatos knew nothing of the art of war, but it still sounded like a good plan to him.

I hate that I’m the one actually carrying it out, though.

Going around assassinating a hundred people in an encampment of ten thousand was the definition of madness. What’s more, the soldiers here were all heroes of renown. A single moment of laxity was enough for a former Archdemon candidate to be struck down in the attempt. He had to keep up this dangerous work for an entire night, so he couldn’t help but grumble about it once or twice.

Having said that, the more Barbatos slacked off, the larger the burden on Chastille’s shoulders would be when she took the front. Thus, his only choice was to give this task everything he had. He’d really gotten baited into this job perfectly. Even while annoyed by it all, he had started sinking into the shadows when a sudden thought came to mind.

“Uhhh... Right. You two, be wary of Gremory,” he said. “You get caught up with her, and it’ll be a big pain in the ass for you.”

He still didn’t understand the gibberish that came from that granny’s mouth. Getting involved with her was simply far too troublesome. It wasn’t like he ever came to any harm due to her antics, but being toyed around with just felt bad. That was why he gave the two of them a warning, since something about them made him think the same would likely happen to them.

“You’re a little late,” Behemoth said, a look of exhaustion on his face. “I’d rather have heard that warning at the start of the year.”

“She’s not a bad girl...but her actions are certainly a bother,” Levia added, sounding equally exhausted as her partner.

So it was already too late. The beginning of the year was around the time Zagan had that big bath made in his castle and they’d had the encounter with that Azazel creature. Now that Barbatos thought of it, Gremory had been stationed at Archdemon Palace instead of the castle around then. Perhaps Zagan had left these two at Archdemon Palace precisely because he knew how it’d turn out.

“Well...my condolences,” Barbatos said.

“Right, well, you should keep an eye out,” Behemoth replied.

With that, a strange friendship sprouted between the three of them.

◇

“This place emptied out faster than expected...”

While Barbatos’s group wreaked havoc among Shere Khan’s army, Zagan gazed up at his castle. The retreat to Archdemon Palace had been completed within an hour. Teleportation sorcery had already been in place between the two places to begin with, and Zagan’s subordinates were all sorcerers who kept everything important in their back pockets. A retreat could be carried out simply by having everyone move through the teleportation circle.

The castle had once been a graveyard of corpses and torture devices, but after Nephy’s arrival, it had become somewhat cleaner. With Foll, Raphael, that troublesome granny, Kimaris, and his forty subordinates living here, not a hint of its former self could be seen anywhere. Zagan had quickly decided to abandon it, but he still had a sentimental desire to look back on it one last time.

No. I just need to get back here quickly. That’s all... Zagan thought as he faced forward and stepped into the teleportation circle. A vertigo-like sensation akin to floating in the air took him, and the scenery changed to that of the gloomy underground gate to Archdemon Palace.

Light from his sorcery illuminated the enormous cave beneath Kianoides, revealing the palace towering over him. Thirty of his subordinates—those who were not preoccupied with other tasks—lined up in front of the gates to greet him. Raphael stood at their head. He had changed from his butler uniform to Valefor’s armor.

Noncombatants like Lilith and Furcas weren’t among them, of course, but they were still listening from a short distance away. Dexia was with that group. Nephy, Orias, and Foll weren’t present. They’d already departed to fulfill their respective duties. Kuroka was a member of the church, so she’d gone to help Chastille.

There was no time to spare during such an emergency, but these subordinates of his were about to lay their lives on the line, so he had a duty as their king to give them a proper explanation. Zagan looked each one of them in the eyes, then gave them all a nod.

“Time is short, so I’ll make this quick. I’m sure you’ve all heard that Shere Khan has unleashed an army of ten thousand upon us. They’ve made camp a couple dozen kilometers away from Kianoides and will march on the town at dawn. We must stop them.”

His subordinates had already steeled themselves. Not a single brow twitched when faced with this hopeless situation.

“Given time, we can keep casualties to a bare minimum, but we have no such luxury. Our deadline is in three days at sunset. We’ll end everything by then.”

Kianoides was Zagan’s domain. A barrier protected the town at all times. If he was so inclined, he could cut it off from the outside world and force a siege. If they did that and whittled away at the enemy forces on the outside, they could win while maintaining zero casualties. However, Nephy had pleaded with him to end this in three days. Failing to satisfy her was no different from defeat. Thus, he would step out himself.

“I shall go take Shere Khan’s head. Everything will be settled if I kill him, but that won’t be so easy. I need your strength, so I’ll be putting you to work.”

“As you will!” all his promising subordinates yelled in unison.

Such were the fruits of Raphael’s daily leadership. This was all he really had to say, but Zagan thought it over for a bit, then faced his subordinates once more.

“Also, this is just a personal matter... In truth, Nephy’s birthday is coming up.”

Everyone looked at him with lukewarm gazes as if asking if that was why he was in such a rush. He wanted to smack them for it, but held back that urge and cleared out his throat.

“So, um...I’ve heard of a custom involving a w-wedding ring. In order to give her one with peace of mind, I’m going to need the likes of Shere Khan and Bifrons gone.”

In other words, he wanted everything to be settled in this battle. That wasn’t exactly what Zagan had wanted to get across, though.

“At that time, there’s a need for us to receive the blessings of others, or so it seems. I’d like all of you to do so. I won’t forgive any of you for dying. You hear me?”

All of his subordinates turned to look at each other. They all had the vague, wry, yet gentle smile of a guardian watching over a child. Unable to bear the atmosphere, Zagan threw out his arm at them.

“Then go! The rewards shall be plentiful! Live up to my expectations!”

“’Kaaay!”

Their childish reply was in complete contrast to their reliable one mere moments ago. The group dispersed to tend to their own duties as Raphael walked up to Zagan.

“My liege.”

“Not a word.”

Zagan could see it for himself. His speech had been less about encouraging his subordinates and more about bragging about his love life. Nevertheless, Raphael shrugged and shook his head.

“In the end, it worked out fine,” the butler stated. “Their tension is gone, and they’ll be able to do their work as they usually do. Perhaps they have loosened up too much, but it’s far better than being mentally exhausted.”

“Well, if you say so...” Zagan said as he covered his face and let out a sigh, then pulled himself together and shook his head. “Raphael. Just as I said, we’ll end this in three days. It might be pointless, but capture anyone who surrenders.”

According to Kuroka’s report, Shere Khan’s underlings—the so-called Nephilims—were incapable of defying his orders. They were being forced to fight even if they didn’t want to. It was somewhat sad, but Zagan didn’t have the leisure to take their feelings into consideration. Raphael understood this as he nodded back at Zagan with a sympathetic look on his face.

“As you will.”

Next, Zagan stood before the noncombatants and found an unexpected face among them.

Oh, I guess she was sticking with Stella... And with that on his mind, he started with Lilith.

“Your Highness? What should we be doing?” she asked.

“You lot will do the same as always. Get to the kitchen. Sorcerers can work for a whole day without food, but morale will drop. Besides, Angelic Knights can’t fight on empty stomachs. It’ll be rough, since you’re short on hands, but your role is an important one. Put in some work and make up for quantity with quality.”

The battle was to go on for three days. That called for provisions and cooks. In a way, one could say they were more important than weapons and military personnel. Both Lilith and Selphy were agape at his order.

“What, dissatisfied?” he asked them.

“No, that’s not it...” Lilith muttered. “I hadn’t even thought of food, so...”

“Everyone is going to be up to their eyes with work. That’s the gist of it... Furcas, you at least know how to peel vegetables, right? Help them out.”

“Yeah! Leave it to me, bro!”

“Lilith, Selphy, I’ll need your strength for more than just cooking. In short—”

Zagan went on to explain his plan, leaving Lilith stiff in the face. That stood to reason. In a sense, this job was far more dangerous than what Kuroka and everyone else at the front line had to do. Lilith trembled at the thought, while Selphy hugged her from behind.

“It’s okay, Lilith,” she said. “I’m with you. I’ll definitely keep you safe.”

Those words brought her trembling to a stop.

“H-Hmph! I-I’m not scared or anything! I was just a little surprised!”

“Heh heh. You’re best when you’re like that, Lilith.”

Selphy went as far as rubbing her cheek against Lilith’s, making Furcas cover his eyes as if he shouldn’t be watching.

“Leave it to me, Your Highness,” Lilith finally replied with a resolute look. “I’ll show you the full strength of Princess Lilithiera of the succubi.”

Pleased with her attitude, Zagan patted the prideful girl on the head.

“Yeah. I’m looking forward to it. Furcas, that goes for you too. Protect them.”

If you don’t show her your good side when it matters, Selphy is seriously going to snatch her away from you...

Selphy had apparently made some kind of breakthrough after consulting Zagan the other day. She was very proactively on the move. At this rate, it would take less than a month for Lilith to capitulate.

“Of course!” Furcas shouted with a nod and a proud thump of his chest. “I’ll be sure to protect them both!”

“Hmm?” Selphy muttered in an overpowering tone.

A cold bead of sweat ran down Furcas’s cheek. Just then, Zagan suddenly noticed something.

“Furcas, what’s that in your hand?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh, this? Miss Alshiera left it with me the other night,” Furcas answered, holding up the white Seraph Hunter in his hand.

“Alshiera did...?”

Zagan found that extremely suspicious.

What is she thinking, leaving this behind at such a time?

Even without such power, Alshiera was the ultimate vampire. However, her prey was none other than Azazel. She wasn’t supposed to have the leisure to share what power she had with Furcas.

“B-Bro, I don’t know what she did,” Furcas started in a trembling voice, “but don’t be too mad at her. I think, just maybe, she still wants to help you...”

Zagan wasn’t the only one looking at him wide-eyed. Even Lilith and Selphy seemed surprised.

Did something come to mind even though he’s missing his memories?

Alshiera’s true intentions weren’t clear, but she’d acted in a way that appeared hostile to everyone around her. Despite this, Furcas could understand her.

“Then go tell her to brush up on her acting skills,” Zagan said, averting his gaze as if playing dumb. “Going along with her lousy farce is a huge pain in the ass.”

“Y-Yeah! I’ll tell her for you!”

If Furcas was the one to tell Alshiera that her acting sucked, it would deal a slight blow to her. Satisfied with getting some unexpected revenge against the vampire, Zagan moved on to the next person in line.

“Lisette. What will you do?”

This girl had the same face as Dexia and was also Zagan’s little sister from the streets. Zagan’s older sister from the streets was supposed to be watching her, but Stella was severely wounded and unconscious. Shax had brought her and the equally injured Ginias to the church, so Zagan had missed seeing them on their way out of here.

Huh? Now that I think of it, what about that Sacred Sword?

The Archangel named Valjakka had died, so after retrieving the Sacred Sword, Zagan had left it in Ginias’s care, but now the boy was unconscious.

We didn’t leave it behind in Manuela’s shop, did we?

Even if there hadn’t really been the time to give it any thought due to the incident with Nephteros, that would’ve been far too careless of them. An ownerless Sacred Sword was no better than a paperweight, but if by some chance it had chosen someone, it could turn the tides of battle.

“What should I do...?” Lisette asked, looking up at Zagan with no way of knowing the dilemma going through his mind. “I want to go be by Stella’s side, but...”

Lisette threw a glance toward Dexia, who was standing next to her. These two had the same face. Lisette was probably aware that Dexia’s younger sister, Aristella, who was still a captive, could be dead. Just like Zagan, Lisette had no memories from before she was a waif in the streets. It was extremely likely that Shere Khan was somehow involved in her birth. However, with no way of fighting, there was very little she could accomplish. Zagan hesitated for a moment, then squatted down in front of her to match her eyeline.

“Allow me to provide you with a warning as your fellow sibling of the streets. Nothing interesting will come of constantly ruminating over your past. You’re better off treating the people who stay by your side dearly.”

Zagan had sought out knowledge that revealed the Silver-Eyed King was his father and the true identity of his old friend Marc. But what had he really gained by doing so? All he knew now was that he had an enemy that he had to kill.

Still, I wanted to know whom exactly I had to kill and searched for the answers.

To this day, he didn’t know whether that was for better or worse. Nevertheless, it had been a necessity. But that wasn’t the case for Lisette.

“Mmm...” she muttered with a nod.

It was questionable whether she really understood him. Zagan knew by looking at Dexia and Aristella that Shere Khan was, in some way, connected to her. One could even say the Tiger King had some kind of fixation on her. There was some meaning behind creating Dexia and Aristella to look the way they did. And now, that Archdemon had Gremory captive.

Huh...? Is Gremory in any way capable of remaining quiet while captive with someone like that in front of her?

A certain anxiety began brewing within Zagan, but he realized when faced with that monster of an Archdemon who’d calculated how everything would go so far ahead with such precision, Gremory couldn’t possibly do anything. Probably.

Dexia opened her mouth as if she had something to say to Lisette, but couldn’t get her voice to come out. She had her hands full as it was. Her fate was uncertain, so she couldn’t possibly think of what she could say for someone else’s sake. Instead of providing her any comfort, Zagan addressed her in a strict tone.

“Barbatos will come to get you soon. Get ready to go.”

“Okay...”

People were better off not thinking about unnecessary things when they had something they had to face themselves. Now that Zagan had chosen to take her under his wing, he would at least show her that level of kindness. It was about time for him to head out himself, so Zagan sought out his loyal butler once more.

“Raphael.”

“Did you need something?” Raphael asked, turning around after passing orders out to the others.

“We lost track of where one of the Sacred Swords went. If you find it, secure it.”

“A Sacred Sword...? Missing...you say?” Raphael asked, wide-eyed.

“Yeah. That Valjakka guy’s sword. He tried to attack Kuroka and died by accident.”

Yes, that had been an accidental death, or perhaps even suicide. He’d ignored Zagan’s warning and done it to himself, after all. Kuroka held no responsibility whatsoever. And throwing back at a glance at his speechless butler, Zagan left Archdemon Palace.

◇

Upon returning to the church, Kuroka found the place as busy as a beehive. Well, that did make sense. A giant army had suddenly appeared within marching distance of town, after all.

Teleportation sorcery done on a terrifying scale. They probably spent a few months just preparing that alone.

The invasion itself had yet to truly begin, but they were already at war.

“Mister Shax, take care of things here. I’m going to go report to Lady Chastille.”

“Kurosuke.”

Just as she was about to run off, Shax called her to a stop. Something about his voice sounded different from usual, shocking her for an instant.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Um... Just...don’t overdo it, okay?”

“Aren’t you the one who’s always overdoing it?”

It honestly bothered her. He disliked fighting, but was always getting injured while trying to protect her. Did he understand how badly she fretted whenever she watched that happen? Had something happened during his meeting with Zagan? In any case, she knew he was genuinely worried about her safety. Besides, even if she worried about him constantly, she didn’t want Shax to feel the same thing. As such, she returned an honest nod.

“Very well. I’ll only overdo it when you’re around,” she said.

“Oh, come on...”

“Hee hee. Off I go.”

With that, she hurried over to Chastille.

This will be easier if she’s her everyday self... Kuroka thought. She doubted that Chastille would be in crybaby mode during such a crisis, though. As such, the simple act of giving this report would be a backbreaking job.

“All Angelic Knights get ready to move out at any moment! Everyone else guide the citizens in the evacuation! Send word to Raziel for reinforcement!”

Upon entering the office, Kuroka was greeted by Chastille barking out orders restlessly. She had a grim expression on her face, which made her usual crybaby self seem like a lie. Once she spotted Kuroka, though, her expression brightened up just a little.

“Kuroka, you’re back,” she said.

Work-mode Chastille was firm and resolute, but she still couldn’t hide the relief in her voice. Her best friend, Nephteros, was nowhere in sight, and Barbatos probably wasn’t responding to anything she said right now. Nephy had also left Kianoides on some mission of her own.

This girl was burdened with the responsibility of protecting the citizens of this town while faced with an army nearly a hundred times the size of her own forces. That was far too heavy a burden for a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl, and yet, not the slightest hint of such a weight bearing down on her could be seen in her features. She had a will of steel. She truly did possess the caliber to stand above others, which was something Kuroka sorely lacked.

“I apologize for arriving so late, Lady Chastille,” Kuroka replied with an affectionate and grateful smile. “Kuroka Adelhide, here to give my report.”

After taking a light bow, Kuroka glanced around the room. The Three Knights of the Azure Sky and a few priests were present. The knights wouldn’t be a problem, but she couldn’t pass on word from an Archdemon in front of the priests. She wanted to get her report out of the way quickly, but this stalled things.

“Don’t worry about them,” Chastille said with a smile upon noticing Kuroka’s gaze. “They’re members of the Unification Faction.”

“Very well. Then, to keep it brief—”

Barbatos would usually have been the one bringing this kind of news over, but that man was currently extremely busy fulfilling Zagan’s orders. Kuroka summed up the situation quickly. She told Chastille that they’d located Shere Khan’s hiding place, that they’d taken Dexia into custody in the process, and that Archdemon Zagan had taken the girl in. She then told her about Archangel Valjakka’s death. This rendered Chastille wide-eyed and speechless.

“No way... Someone as strong as Lord Valjakka...killed?”

Kuroka felt like she was telling a lie, which pained her heart.

Not that I actually lied...

Zagan and Shax had emphasized to her multiple times to pin the blame for Valjakka’s death on Shere Khan. Well, in the end, he’d actually been the one to kill himself, so it was questionable to say that Kuroka had done so. Still, she’d definitely been the one to set the stage for his death.

“Could you tell me...how his last moments went?” Chastille asked in a trembling voice, trying to hide how shaken she was by the news.

“Huh? Umm...he fought bravely to the bitter end.”

That was the answer Shax had prepared for her beforehand.

Now that’s a complete and utter lie...

In truth, the man had been tormenting a helpless little girl and was just about to kill her, and then, when it came time to cross blades, he’d been defeated the very instant his hand touched his sword. Saying all that meant treating the despicable man, one she loathed from the bottom of her heart, like some kind of hero. Kuroka clutched at her chest, tortured by pangs of guilt. And perhaps interpreting this as an act of grievance, Chastille covered her mouth and cried.

It looks like she never even doubted him...

With no way of knowing the man had tried to ruin her, Chastille cried genuine tears of sorrow. Kuroka didn’t dare to make her feel even worse and instead remained extremely uncomfortable.

“What of his body?” Chastille asked after pulling herself together.

“Forgive me, we left it behind in Feo. We retrieved his Sacred Sword and have entrusted it to Lord Ginias.”

“Ginias? You met Lord Galahad too?”

Now that she mentioned it, Kuroka realized she hadn’t finished her report.

“Head Archangel Lord Ginias Galahad II and Archangel Lady Stella Diekmeyer are in Kianoides. However—”

Kuroka went on to explain how the two of them had been heavily injured in battle, leaving out any mention of Nephteros.

“Impossible. Even Stella was defeated?”

Chastille knew of Stella’s strength. She was only number two in the Archangel rankings, but with the power of both a sorcerer and an Angelic Knight, she was essentially the strongest Angelic Knight in active service. Chastille staggered as if struck by a dizzy spell.

“How are the two of them now?” she asked, urging the conversation forward.

“We’ve brought them to the church. Mister Shax is treating them, so they are in no danger of dying.”

Chastille sighed in relief, then turned to the three knights.

“Two of you should go check on their condition. It’ll be like whipping up the wounded, but right now we need every fighting hand we can get.”

The spearman and the shieldbearer quickly dashed out of the office. Everything up until now had gone well, but Kuroka’s report still wasn’t over.

I can’t possibly leave out Lady Nephteros and Sir Richard, can I...?

Zagan had told her not to speak of Nephteros, but she at least had to tell Chastille that the dark elf wouldn’t be returning. She took in a deep breath, then quickly cut to the chase.

“Also, about Lady Nephteros and Sir Richard...”

“D-Do you know something?! Don’t tell me they’re...”

Chastille worried about Nephteros more than any other. Her absence definitely weighed on Chastille’s mind. She simply hadn’t been able to bring herself to broach the subject. Now that Kuroka had mentioned her name, Chastille lunged at the opportunity to find out what had happened to her dear friend.

“Sir Richard is in bad shape after taking a hit from Archdemon Bifrons. We’ve managed to keep him alive somehow, but his condition is uncertain, so Archdemon Zagan is sheltering him.”

“Bifrons...you say?”

Chastille stiffened at the mention of that Archdemon. Nephteros’s former master, the one who’d created her as a homunculus based on Nephy, was the ringleader behind all the misfortune that had befallen the poor girl. Kuroka suppressed any and all emotion and continued her report expressionlessly.

“Bifrons is chasing Lady Nephteros. Lady Nephy and her mother are headed that way as well. She can’t return here, but there’s no need for concern.”

She’d resorted to mentioning Nephy. Would that actually be enough to get Chastille to believe her? Chastille stared at her for a while. At times like these, Kuroka actually found her rather frightening. Chastille was calm and collected and extremely sharp, completely contrasting her usual crybaby behavior. Kuroka was sure that Chastille knew that she was hiding things in her report. The question was how much she could tell was a lie.

“Nephy and Lady Orias have gone to save her?” she asked after a while, her voice chillingly cold.

“They’ve gone after her.”

Silence fell over the room. Everyone aside from the two girls gulped.

That’s the head of the Unification Faction for you. She’s not accepting the whole story.

Kuroka recalled how Shax had told her not to overdo things. Something had likely happened during his meeting with Zagan. Regardless, perhaps those words had also been meant for this meeting with Chastille.

Chastille knew that Nephteros was in danger. She also knew that Nephy and Orias had gone to save her. There was an intense air of hostility in Chastille’s eyes, knowing that Kuroka was hiding the truth about her friend’s predicament. If Kuroka relaxed her focus even a little, cold sweat would surely run down her face. However, if she allowed even a single bead of sweat to show, Chastille would press her for answers about every single detail. Their fierce staring contest went on for just a few seconds. Before long, Chastille let out a small sigh.

“Fine. I’ll put my faith in your words, Kuroka.”

“Thank you very much.”

Kuroka bowed gracefully before letting out a secret sigh of her own.

That was scary...

Chastille was often called a crybaby and a softhearted fool, but at the moment, Kuroka saw a coolheadedness in her that reminded her of Zagan. Things simply never deteriorated to such a state because of her character. Once this girl decided to do something, she always resolved to get it done by any means necessary.

Kuroka could understand why that was, just a little.

Someone who is kind to everyone doesn’t actually love them all, after all.

This girl thought more dearly of her friend than anyone else. That was why a certain doubt came to Kuroka’s mind.

She should be necessary to save Lady Nephteros. So why...?

Nephteros was in despair after witnessing Richard’s heart get gouged out before her eyes. Now that a monster had usurped her body, wasn’t Chastille the only one who could bring her back and give her some hope in living? And yet, Zagan had decided not to get her involved. He had his own idea in mind, apparently, so he was sure to save Nephteros. Kuroka believed in him, but still found the situation extremely confusing.

“Thus concludes my report,” Kuroka said.

“Understood. I’m sorry for not giving you any time to rest. Please get ready to head out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Just then, hurried footsteps approached the doorway.

“Lady Chastille.”

One of the Angelic Knights who’d gone to check on Ginias and Stella entered the office.

“Torres, how are they?” Chastille asked him.

“Lord Galahad has regained consciousness and is preparing for battle. Lady Diekmeyer’s wounds aren’t fatal, but she has yet to awaken.”

Stella had taken a blow from “Nephteros” head-on. Thanks to that, Kuroka and all the others had been saved, but Stella had suffered far greater damage than even Ginias had in exchange. She’d lost a significant amount of blood. It was questionable whether she would wake up before the battle was over. Chastille scowled at the loss of the Angelic Knights’ strongest combatant.

“Also, Lord Galahad mentioned something a little concerning...” the spearman continued.

“What about?”

The spearman hesitated for a moment, then timidly said, “According to him, Lord Valjakka’s Sacred Sword is nowhere to be found.”

Both Chastille’s and Kuroka’s eyes widened upon hearing the news.

“What do you mean?” Kuroka asked.

“Exactly what I said,” the spearman answered. “It was gone when he woke up, apparently. Ryan stayed behind to look around, but it’s hard to miss a Sacred Sword.”

“That can’t be...” Kuroka said, shaking her head. “When we brought them here, it was definitely by Lord Ginias’s side. Mister Shax should’ve been with him. Did he see anything?”

“The healer? No, he doesn’t seem to know either.”

There was no way a man of Shax’s abilities would miss someone stealing something right in front of him. Sure, he had no means to stop a sorcerer like Barbatos, but he’d definitely have noticed the act itself.

“Then the Sacred Sword took off on its own...?” Chastille muttered, lowering her gaze to the sword at her waist in bewilderment.

“What do you mean...?” Kuroka asked.

She’d heard of Sacred Swords having wills of their own—probably from the seraph within—but she’d never heard of one moving on its own.

“Oh, right,” Kuroka said, suddenly coming up with a great idea. “Can’t we just ask the person at your feet about that?”

It wasn’t clear whether he was listening, but Barbatos’s shadow was open. If Chastille asked, he would likely answer. Or so Kuroka thought, but...

“My feet...? U-Uhhh, h-h-h-h-he’s, um, I mean...right now...it’s a little...”

“Hm...? Did something happen? If you’d like, I can cut his head off between jobs.”

Now that I think about it, I feel like she’s been avoiding talking about him this whole time.

Kuroka’s hate for sorcerers had faded significantly, but Barbatos was still the worst of sorcerers. She’d gladly finish him any time Chastille wished for it.

“Th-That’s not what I meant! I-It’s okay. It’s okay, so don’t...” Chastille said. She didn’t look okay at all, though. “A-Anyway, forget about the Sacred Sword for now. Let’s consider the town’s defense as our number one priority.”

From the church’s perspective, this was the second Sacred Sword that had gone missing. The first had been Raphael’s Metatron. It was a serious matter that shook the church to its core, but Chastille’s decision was still correct. And just as everyone was about to return to their posts, another set of hurried footsteps approached the doorway.

“Th-This is serious, Lady Chastille!”

The shieldbearer of the three knights burst into the room. He was supposed to be out looking for the missing Sacred Sword, but didn’t appear to be doing that at all.

“What is it now?” Chastille asked.

“The Archdemon!”

Which Archdemon was he referring to? The man calmed his breathing down, then relayed the unbelievable to them.

“Archdemon Zagan has gone to challenge the enemy army directly!”

“What?!”

An Archdemon could slaughter an army of ten thousand. However, that was only when making full use of sorcery and trickery. There was no way his mana would hold out fighting them head-on.

“No, hang on... Zagan might actually be able to punch all ten thousand of them...” Chastille muttered with a serious expression on her face.

That Archdemon was simply so mighty that she believed it possible. Kuroka then remembered that she’d forgotten to mention something.

“Oh, excuse me, I forgot to pass you a message from Zagan,” she said.

“What message?” Chastille asked. She was no longer able to parse all this information, so her eyes were twirling about.

“‘I’ll buy you a day. Take your time and get ready,’ so he said.”

Taking a look out the window, they noticed dawn had broken before anyone knew it. The sinister attack on the enemy army had quietly progressed throughout the night. However, that had all been behind the scenes. The battle had yet to begin. Only when an Archdemon made a move did things take center stage.

Thus, the opening shot of the battle was a ferocious raid by Archdemon Zagan himself.

◇

“Don’t let him get any farther!”

“Is he really human?!”

“Shit! What are the higher-ups doing?! Why aren’t we getting any orders?!”

“Uoooh! Protect ou— Aaaaaargh!”

Zagan lightly threw out his fist and sent one of the soldiers who’d bravely charged at him flying. It was more akin to gently brushing him aside than any kind of punch, but the soldier’s armor still shattered to pieces and the others he crashed into tumbled to the ground spectacularly.

Cries of confusion filled the air.

Looks like Barbatos’s team did their job properly.

There were, of course, those who used their own judgment to challenge Zagan now that he’d taken the field, but the army as a whole was so scattered that this could hardly be called a proper response to his raid. These weren’t the movements of an army. This was simply a swarm of talented warriors. Thus, all Zagan had to do was punch them one at a time.

“Compared to facing those damn seraphs, this is—”

A sword came whizzing through the air down at Zagan. He brushed it aside with his arm, shattering the blade like glass and bending the arm of its wielder like a piece of wire.

“Gaaaaaah!”

Leaving the soldier writhing on the ground, Zagan continued his march forward.

“You bastard! Then how about this?!”

Seeing that swords were useless, one of the soldiers resorted to martial arts and unleashed a kick. Even if it was a technique from a thousand years ago, it had been used to fight seraphs or gods or whatnot. Zagan leisurely caught the man’s foot with his palm, but the shock wave of the impact dug deep cracks through the earth.

“Grr. Even that’s not enough?!”

“Hmm. I didn’t mean to underestimate you, but that was a far sharper blow than I had imagined. It’s been a while since my hand has gone numb.”

Zagan honestly praised the man, then crushed the foot in his hand as if returning the favor.

“Aaaaaargh!”

It had been a terrifying technique, but an Archdemon’s head wasn’t so easy to take that an art with no sorcery behind it would be enough to harm him. Zagan walked on, leaving behind a trail of soldiers with broken weapons, arms, and legs. And yet, not a single soldier had died. Furthermore, Zagan didn’t have the tiniest of scratches on him, nor were his clothes disheveled in the least.

This deed was only possible when the gap in strength was akin to that of a grown adult to a baby. And such experienced soldiers were definitely aware of that fact. Fear and despair clung to their expressions. Still, they were all heroes, so they were used to facing enemies far mightier than they were.

The moment they decided no individual had a chance of winning, their movements changed. Five or six of them quickly surrounded Zagan and slowly began circling him. Their peculiar movements left afterimages, even to an Archdemon’s eyes. He had no idea which ones were real people, or even how many people had surrounded him.

This was an art similar to Kuroka’s Misty Night. There was a difference in skill, but they weren’t that far behind her. Having so many of them using it at once made it impossible for the enhanced perception of a sorcerer to see through it.

The soldiers eventually rushed in with their swords. The terrifying part was that they didn’t do so all at once. Each one slashed at him one after the other. Once one came in, the next would follow half an instant later. By the time five slashes chained together like that, the first attacker could take another swing. It truly was like pouring rain. Even an Archdemon had no hope of dodging, defending, or counterattacking when faced with such an unending chain of blows.

What a fascinating technique. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to play with them right now.

Faced with this impossible-to-evade attack, Zagan responded by stomping his foot on the ground while maintaining his forward pace. That was all he did.

“Gh?!”

The earth caved in, throwing off the heroes’ footing. They immediately regained their balance, but that immeasurably short instant left an opening to exploit, which was more than enough for Zagan to defeat them all. Pebbles were floating up into the air due to the earth’s destruction as Zagan casually swung his mantle at them.

“Gah!”

“Ugh!”

The pebbles struck down the heroes with the force of cannonballs. The deadly projectiles penetrated the ones who’d carried out the rain of attacks and mercilessly cleared out the other soldiers in the area as well. Surrounded by sprays of blood and fallen enemies, Zagan took another composed step forward.

“No way! That didn’t even get him to slow down at all?!”

Even when struck by despair, the heroes didn’t give up the fight. This time, several soldiers carrying an enormous spear that almost resembled a battering ram charged at him. It was probably a weapon meant to break a seraph’s barrier or the like. Mana converged into the spear from everyone carrying it as they lunged with terrifying agility and destructive force. This was also a futile attack, however. Zagan lightly tapped the tip of the spear with a tired sigh. That was all it took to pulverize the mana-charged weapon.

Next, a giant clad in what looked like multiple layers of iron-plated armor charged in. Several soldiers followed in his wake, each one armed with a sword or spear. It looked like their plan was for the giant to sacrifice his life to stop Zagan’s movements, granting the other soldiers a chance to strike the Archdemon directly.

How nostalgic. It’s like what the three idiots tried to do.

He’d treated those three like rabble at the time and hadn’t really paid them any mind, but the technique they’d wielded was in no way inferior to what these heroes were doing now. Despite his initial impressions, the three idiots were apparently strong enough to stand as equals to the heroes from a thousand years ago. Deeply moved by the thought, Zagan flicked the giant before him.

The giant tumbled like a ball and flew backward, sending all the soldiers behind him screaming and flying in every direction. Zagan nearly burst into laughter at the sight, but he managed to endure the urge by remembering that he had to maintain his majesty as an Archdemon. He still wondered if Foll would enjoy a game based on the sight, though.

Zagan treated them like weeds, but these soldiers all possessed power that didn’t shame their reputations as heroes. Any average sorcerer would probably have been helpless before them in a one-on-one fight. Even a former Archdemon candidate would eventually be defeated if faced with their coordinated attacks. They were working together so well despite losing their entire command structure, after all. It was honestly terrifying.

The reason they were so helpless before Zagan was because their strengths mainly focused on fighting against seraphs and gods or whatever they were doing battle with back in the day. Seraphs had a known weak point in their Hex Wings. Zagan didn’t have any information on gods, but those were also inhuman beings who wielded inhuman powers. These heroes hadn’t given much thought to fighting against a single powerful human.

In contrast, all of Zagan’s usual enemies were human, be they sorcerers or Angelic Knights. It was clear who had the advantage between the anti-human specialist and the anti-monster specialists.

Zagan casually marched forward with the rising sun at his back and made it all the way to the center of the enemy formation. His current objective was breaking through to Shere Khan’s hiding place.

Things are going well so far, I suppose.

Zagan wasn’t here to flaunt his power, nor had he suddenly awoken to the idea of philanthropy. This was all necessary in order to keep the army pinned down.

Fear can only be conveyed to the living.

Zagan had believed in that creed even before he was an Archdemon and had always acted on the premise. This was a battlefield, though. There was no point in spreading the futility of challenging an Archdemon here. All the enemies he spared would surely move on to attack Kianoides. And yet, he still went through the troublesome process of defeating them without killing anyone.

The wounded drag down an army more than the dead, apparently.

The dead would weaken the army considerably, but they could also be ignored from that point on. However, the living had to be accommodated, treated, and given rest...and the personnel needed to handle that would be several times that of the wounded. This was knowledge Zagan had acquired from Liucaon’s literature. This battle was, of course, his first time putting it into practice, but he could already see how effective a strategy it was.

Zagan didn’t lay a hand on those who stayed back...and all who challenged him remained among the living. Chaos spread among the soldiers due to their disadvantage in a one-on-ten-thousand match where the one had gone as far as to show them such consideration.

The more people there were, the better the chaos spread. They were all fighting at their own discretion right now, but after the tempest known as Zagan passed them by, there would be no way of calming the mayhem without any real leaders among them. What’s more, keeping them alive meant that Zagan wasn’t driving them into a corner. The more cornered people felt, the more desperate they became. They would throw away all hesitation and immerse themselves in battle. They could display far more strength than normal in that state, all for the sake of survival. That would’ve been problematic, as he needed them to hesitate, to be confused, to act disorderly, and to exhibit less power than normal.

Unfortunately, Zagan’s enemy was the oldest living Archdemon, Shere Khan. The Tiger King could easily see through Zagan’s hastily assembled knowledge of military strategy.

“Gh!”

Zagan, who’d been marching forward casually as if he was taking a light stroll through an empty field, leaped back for the very first time since the battle began. The very next instant, a black wind blew through the area.

“I thought you’d show up a little later...”

“I’ll make no excuses. I’m going to take your head, Sir Zagan.”

Standing before him was the sorcerer regarded as Zagan’s right-hand man, Kimaris.

◇

“Oooh, they’re really goin’ at it.”

Three people gazed down at the Archdemon marching his way through the army of Nephilims from atop a hill a short distance away from Kianoides. The one who raised his voice at the sight was a boy with red hair and eyes, Asura. He was dressed like a cheap mercenary, wearing the bare minimum of necessary armor, but didn’t have a sword. Next to him was a lanky young man with narrow eyes. This was Bato. He used a sword, but his primary post was that of a strategist. A step away from the two was a girl who was taking a small sip out of a teacup. She had eyes like the moon and blonde hair. Her creepy stuffed doll sat atop her lap, and she wore her usual frilly dress. She looked somewhere around twelve or thirteen, making her appear rather out of place on a battlefield, but two fangs could be seen peeking out of her lips. This was Alshiera, who was enjoying some tea after going as far as setting up an entirely out-of-place table.

“How goes the battle?” she asked.

“Zagan, the Silver-Eyed King, is overwhelming them,” Bato answered, still watching the battle unfold through a pair of binoculars. “It seems he did something last night. The Nephilims are in complete disarray and aren’t really putting up any sort of combat formation. From what I can see, there don’t appear to be any officers among them.”

“Tee hee! The Silver-Eyed King is resourceful. He may have had all the officers assassinated before the battle.”

“I see. That’s practically Marchosias’s modus operandi. Quite splendid, I must say.”

“Bato... You’d do well not to provoke a shot in the back.”

“What have I done?!”

“So, Ashy, what’cha got in store for us?” Asura asked as he stood up and ignored the pale Bato.

“Hmm, let’s see...” Alshiera mumbled, setting down her cup on her knee as she raised her slender fingers one at a time. “The current forces that are hostile to us are Azazel, Shere Khan and his ten thousand soldiers, and though they’ve broken ties with Shere Khan, there’s also an Archdemon named Bifrons.”

She then hesitated a bit before raising a fourth finger and adding, “And finally, Archdemon Zagan.”

“Well, you did pick a fight with him. I doubt he still considers you a friend.”

“......” Alshiera fell silent. She was annoyed at having it so bluntly pointed out to her, but Asura simply smiled as if he couldn’t read the mood at all.

“But you still wanna help him, yeah?” he said.

“Well, I suppose I do...”

“Ha ha ha! Even after a thousand years, you can never just be honest with yourself, huh?!” Asura exclaimed as he ruffled her hair roughly. Alshiera let out a weak sigh in response.

“I’d rather you grow up a little, though,” she said.

“Don’t be unreasonable. I mean, I was dead until a week or so ago!”

Alshiera scrunched up her face upon hearing that...and Bato then turned an unexpected look at her.

“What, you too...?” she grumbled.

“Oh, no... This is the first time I’ve seen you make a face like that in front of anyone besides the Silver-Eyed King. The one I knew, I mean.”

Thinking back on it, Asura somewhat resembled the second Silver-Eyed King. Perhaps Furcas did as well. Over a thousand years, it was possible to meet several people who possessed the same soul at heart. It seemed Alshiera was fated to encounter such boys.

Oh, I get it now... Those children really do possess the same “soul.”

Perhaps that was why she’d met them so many times over the ages.

“He never listened to others,” she said with a shrug and a bitter sigh. “I feel exhausted by the mere thought of having to go through such struggles again.”

“I see. Despite that, you still listened to all my requests, didn’tcha, Ashy?” Asura said.

Alshiera was once more left at her wits’ end by the comment.

“Oooh? Lady Alshiera listened to the requests of others? What were they, exactly?” Bato asked, clearly interested.

“Nothin’ serious,” Asura answered. “Whenever I set out to battle and came back alive, I had her do somethin’ for me.”

“Asura...” Alshiera complained.

Bringing up such memories was far too painful for her. But even though she’d tried to stop him, the boy didn’t know the concept of reading the mood. Plus, the one who’d asked was a man who’d gone down in history for his awful personality.

“What was the first thing again? Oh yeah, her name. I asked her to tell me her name. And listen to this, Ashy couldn’t even remember her full name, so she had to go ask Orobas.”

“Hmm. Now that’s interesting.”

“It looked like she hated it every single time, but she kept responding to my requests. Still, even though we’d spent a lot of time together, I never got to see her smile. So, for the last battle—”

“Asura. That’s enough chatter out of you.”

Alshiera’s tone changed completely, but that actually seemed to make Asura happier.

“Heh heh! I feel like I finally got to see the good ol’ Ashy again.”

“Haaah...”

Unfortunately, Alshiera’s suffering didn’t end there.

“Lady Alshiera’s smile... Ohhh, I get it now!”

“What are you implying...?” Alshiera muttered.

“Oh, nothing. By the time I knew you, you were always giggling. Was that perhaps because of your promise with— I’m sorry please forgive me I didn’t say anything.”

Alshiera had drawn her Seraph Hunter, which silenced Bato mid-sentence.

“It’s about time to get things back on track,” she said. “We have many enemies barring our path, but there are only three of us. And yet, they’re all wary of us. Unless we outwit them skillfully, we’ll be dancing to their tune and it’ll all be over.”

What’s more, she’d yielded one of her two Seraph Hunters to someone else. Alshiera had already lost a large majority of her power due to her past wounds. Even with her new allies, the decline in her strength was undeniable. And yet, in her eyes, the situation wasn’t all that bad.

“As I said last night, my goal is to help celebrate the Silver-Eyed King’s birthday. To that end, Azazel must be stopped.”

“The Silver-Eyed King...”

Asura appeared to have something to say, but Alshiera ignored him for now. Zagan would do something about this battle with Shere Khan if left at large. Currently, the only thing he couldn’t handle on his own was Nephteros.

“Hmm... I suppose pretty much the only thing we’re capable of doing for him is pursuing Azazel,” Bato stated firmly.

Alshiera remained in this world for the sole purpose of stopping Azazel. Naturally, doing so was her long-cherished desire. But for some reason, she shook her head.

“We’re certainly capable of killing her, but not saving her.”

“The possessed girl, you mean?” Bato asked.

Nephteros was fated to an untimely death due to Archdemon Bifrons’s schemes, but Alshiera had promised to save her.

“Is it possible to save her?”

“Yes, it is,” Alshiera answered. “The conditions to do so are steadily falling into place. Bifrons turned out to be unexpectedly useful.”

Alshiera had faced Bifrons before the Archdemon attacked Richard. In all honesty, she’d originally planned to render Bifrons a cripple much like Shere Khan. Looking at things in hindsight, so long as they still lived, doing so wouldn’t violate Alshiera’s principles. Bifrons was by far the worst sorcerer she’d ever known, after all. However, they seemed appropriate for the scenario Alshiera pictured, so she’d decided to let them live.

Thanks to that, I have one less thing to do.

In other words, Alshiera had one more hand she could play.

“However, Shere Khan expects us to chase Azazel,” she added.

That was probably why he’d had Azazel revived to begin with. Bifrons had been the one to actually do it, but even if the little Archdemon hadn’t done anything, Azazel would’ve returned. Still, Azazel was too dangerous to leave at large. There was a need to stop it somehow. That was Asura and Bato’s original purpose, after all.

“Sooo, we gotta outwit him and not go along with his plan?” Asura asked.

“That’s one way to do this, but he must have something else prepared for us in case I don’t comply.”

“Somethin’ else? As you are now, isn’t Azazel pretty much the only thing that can actually take you on? Even a high seraph was nothin’ to you.”

Asura was right. In this age, nothing existed that could slow her down, let alone put up a fight. Even an Archdemon using all their strength wouldn’t be worth her attention. And if she didn’t want to deal with things directly, she could simply vanish.

“You have a point there. Nobody can face me in this age.”

“In this age...? You don’t mean...” Asura turned pale upon realizing whom she was referring to. “I see... It’s been a thousand years. I guess the old man kicked the bucket?”

“Precisely. If we clash, Kianoides would vanish in an instant. We must avoid that.”

“Having said that, they will surely be at Shere Khan’s base,” Bato added gravely. “I see. No matter where you decide to show yourself, something has already been prepared. He’s our enemy, but I can’t help but admire his skill.”

There were enemies that Alshiera had to fight in three separate places. Having confirmed the current situation, she smiled.

“That’s how it goes. We shall split up into three,” she concluded.

“Ha ha ha! What a slave driver,” Asura said cheerfully.

“There’s no need to worry. The Silver-Eyed King will have something in place as well. You two can simply go along with his plans.”

“Okay!” Asura yelled, giving his palm a good punch as he straightened his back. “Then I’ll take on Azazel. Seraphs are my specialty!”

“Then I will head their way,” Bato added. “I have no way of managing on my own, but if the Silver-Eyed King’s pawns are on the move, I most likely have a chance.”

However, Alshiera shook her head.

“No, you stay behind in Kianoides,” she said. “I shall face them.”

“He’s among them, you know?”

“That’s why I have to go. Who else is capable of stopping him?”

Besides, they all knew it was dangerous to have Asura or Bato get so close to Shere Khan. They had to be sent elsewhere. He had complaints regarding her decision, but before long, Bato reverently lowered his head.

“As you wish, my lady.”

“Oh yeah, you wanna save the girl who got possessed by Azazel, right, Ashy?” Asura asked. “What should I do? I don’t got a delicate enough hand to save someone in a fight, ya know?”

Moreover, that also happened to be Bifrons’s destination. The Archdemon couldn’t have gone anywhere else.

Well, I doubt they have any schemes left at this point...

Still, winning despite such odds was an Archdemon’s specialty. Thus, Asura couldn’t afford to be careless.

“Please focus entirely on protecting the Silver-Eyed King’s family. I’m sure he sent the girl he cares for most.”

“And she’ll save the possessed girl?”

Instead of answering, Alshiera simply shoved her hand in the back of her stuffed doll, then pulled out a sword.

“No. This sword’s wielder will surely be the one to save her.”

“What’s that? A Hex Sword...? It sure don’t look like one. Definitely seems impressive, though.”

Alshiera giggled, then answered, “Sacred Sword Camael. One of the swords we called the Seraphic Blades in Bato’s era.”

It was the Sacred Sword that had vanished from Ginias’s side despite Shax being with him the whole time.

He was an unexpectedly sharp boy. It was quite troublesome sneaking this away from under his nose...

There was probably a big fuss going on at the church now due to the theft, but that didn’t really matter to her.

“Hmm...” Asura mumbled as he stared at the Sacred Sword, eyes full of interest. “Camael’s the name of the last high seraph I fought, right? Is this thing somehow related?”

“It’s not just related. This is the very same Camael.”

“...Wuh?”

Alshiera paused at that, caressing the blade with sympathy.

“These relics were born of the seraphs’ final vain struggle after being broken by the Silver-Eyed King. They are the ultimate blades forged by offering up the bodies and souls of the high seraphs. Thus, Seraphic Blades. That is their true identity.”

After Marchosias had thoroughly purged the seraphs from all records, they’d been renamed Sacred Swords. That was the truth behind these blades. The sword in Alshiera’s hand then started floating in the air on its own.

“I see. So you’ve finally made your resolve, then? Please, go ahead. Lend that child your strength.”

The Sacred Sword soared off, almost as if in response to her words, and vanished into the distance like a shooting star.

“Asura. You may simply punch the seraph like you always have. However, be wary of the Archdemon known as Bifrons. If that one gets involved—”

After she explained the way Archdemon Bifrons operated to Asura, he nodded back to her.

“I get it! What an asshole. Right on. I’ll definitely protect them.”

“I’m sure you will,” Alshiera said, taking a final sip of her tea. “Now then, it’s about time for us to get moving.”

“Yeah... Oh, right...” Asura paused as he started running off, then turned around. “Let me just say this now, while I’ve still got the chance. I loved you, Ashy.”

Why does he always say things like they’ll be his final words...?

Now that she thought about it, he’d been like this ever since she’d met him. She felt like grimacing at the thought, but his confession must’ve required a lot of courage. Alshiera hadn’t forgotten about how she’d once ruined a boy’s life by refusing to answer when he confessed. That was why she decided to give him an honest reply.

“Thank you. You were also my first love.”

If not, she would never have cried when he’d died.

“Hwuh?!” Asura gasped as his feet tangled up and he tumbled over splendidly. He probably hadn’t expected her to give him such a straight answer.

Watching over this with a charmed smile, Alshiera continued talking with an unexpectedly sincere expression on her face, saying, “No matter how you two were created in this age, you are both living beings. Anyone else may deny that, but I deem it so.”

They hadn’t expected her to say such a thing. Asura and Bato exchanged looks and paid close attention to her.

“As such, please do not toss aside your lives carelessly. I will grieve if you do not return, after all.”

Asura grinned upon hearing those words, then said, “Sooo, when I get back, go on a date with me.”

He didn’t look the least bit shy as he repeated his behavior from a thousand years ago.

“Are you attempting to seduce a married woman?” Alshiera asked with a wry smile on her face.

“A widow, right? I don’t see the problem.”

“If you return, I’ll give it some thought,” she answered, letting out a resigned sigh.

“All right! It’s a promise, got it? I’m gonna butcher that seraph, save the girl, and then we’ve got a date!”

With that, Asura ran off, screaming in joy all the while. After seeing him off in mute amazement, Bato returned to his senses and bowed before Alshiera.

“Thank you. I do not deserve your kindness. Returning alive will be quite the difficult task for me, however.”

“You’ll be fine. Once I’m done on my end, I’ll head your way. Besides, that child will be there. The situation isn’t all that bad.”

“I see... And who do you mean by ‘that child’?”

“I’ve made a friend in this era,” Alshiera answered with a giggle.

She already knew what battlefield the child would choose. That was why she’d yielded one of her Seraph Hunters despite the situation.

Still, it will be a tough battle.

She felt like Bato was somewhat unsuitable to support that child, but it was the best Alshiera could offer.

Despite hearing all that, a worried expression remained on his face.

“Will it really be all right?” he asked.

“What weak words coming from you of all people. Have our battles not always been about beating the odds?”

“I was speaking about you, Lady Alshiera.”

Alshiera touched the wound at her waist. As she’d expected, Bato had noticed the injury. That was exactly why she answered by asking a question of her own.

“Are you aware of what weapon has killed the most people throughout all of history?”

“Malice. Swords and sorcery have only killed tens of thousands. Or perhaps a few hundred thousand at most. However, malice is an entirely different matter altogether. Ever since the dawn of history, it has permeated throughout the people from paupers to kings. As a weapon, it could steal tens of thousands of lives in a single instant.”

Alshiera nodded after hearing his answer.

“Exactly. And there are two sides to the coin known as malice. Those who make use of it only reach perfection when they command both of them.”

It was precisely because of this other side that humanity had survived despite being cut down by malice.

“Then, do you mean...?” Bato muttered as if trying to swallow those words.

“The Silver-Eyed King has completed the ultimate form of malice, known as Heaven’s Phosphor.”

That was why she knew it’d be fine. She just had to hold on a little longer.

He may no longer need my strength... With that thought in mind, she set down her cup and rose to her feet.

“Now then, I should really get going. I’d like to see his face sooner rather than later. It’s been so long.”

“Best of luck to you, my lady.”

Alshiera transformed into countless bats and headed off toward her own battlefield.

“The life I have now is my own...” after muttering those words to himself, Bato ran off as well. All that was left behind was the out-of-place table and tea set.

◇

“I’ve been looking for you, Bifrons. So this is where you’ve been, hm?”

“Yo, Naberius. Did you come here with some funny news? Not that I’ve ever laughed at your stupid jokes.”

Bifrons was in a certain deserted village far away from Kianoides. Their face was completely pale, and dark blood continuously poured out of their right shoulder. Zagan’s Heaven’s Phosphor had encroached all the way up their arm and was making its way across their chest now. They no longer possessed the strength to really say anything witty.

Their back was pressed against the wall of a dilapidated building. They couldn’t even stand up anymore and weren’t budging an inch. Even a single breath sent intense pain shooting through their body. And so, they knew that losing consciousness meant never waking up again.

How did that vampire suffer this kind of wound and remain completely composed?

Alshiera had supposedly been afflicted with a similar injury, and it had been delivered by a being who far surpassed Zagan at that. Nevertheless, she hadn’t shown a single hint of pain. Bifrons had no choice but to admit that she truly was the strongest, and not just when it came to simply enacting violence. Her unwavering spirit was in a league of its own. Nobody could match her.

“Hee hee hee! How cold. I’m actually rather fond of you, you know?”

This sorcerer, who spoke with a sweet voice and looked down at Bifrons with a single eyeball, was the person Bifrons wanted to involve himself with the least in the world. It wasn’t even a problem of being fun or not, or hating him or not. It was simply impossible for them to ever get along.

Despite his sweet voice, he hid an extremely buff frame beneath his robes. Only a single large eye peered out of the mask that covered his entire face, but he had more than one on his face. In fact, his true form possessed ten magic eyes. He was a beholder. And to top it all off, he was an eccentric who could make even Bifrons reel back in terror.

Archdemon Naberius. He was apparently in the middle of working on something at Zagan’s request, so what could such a man possibly need with Bifrons?

“If you don’t need anything, could you leave?” Bifrons said. “As you can clearly see, I’m in lousy shape. I’d rather be on my own right now.”

“That’s exactly why I’m here,” Naberius replied, a sorrowful look replacing his jovial one. “Sorry... It doesn’t look like I can save you.”

Bifrons was taken aback by the unexpected statement. They knew their own body better than anyone else.

“How sweet of you, Naberius,” they said with a quiet snort. “Those don’t sound like the words of an Archdemon, though.”

“Even Archdemons can show affection for others. You know this too, don’t you?” Naberius said, holding out a thick arm covered in steel-like muscles from his robe all the while. “We’re opposites in every single way. Like two sides of a coin, even. However, that also means we resemble each other.”

“Could you seriously cut me some slack...?” Bifrons pleaded, feeling disgusted. Naberius was speaking the truth, though. Neither of them listened to people when they spoke, after all.

“There’s our sense of beauty, for example. The way you carry yourself so that nobody can tell whether you’re a man or woman is the complete opposite of my sense of aesthetics, but they are, in fact, very similar. Two sides of the same coin, wouldn’t you say?”

With that, Naberius put his fists together and pumped up his muscles with a grunt of effort. The sight of his pectorals throbbing made Bifrons want to vomit.

“I really hate that part of you,” they said with an unintentional sigh.

“Hee hee hee! And I rather like that part of you,” Naberius replied with a shrug. “Well, that’s enough preamble.”

“Are we finally cutting to the chase?” Bifrons asked in a somewhat disconcerted tone.

Naberius faced the Archdemon with an unexpectedly serious gaze, then said, “If there’s somebody you would like to yield your Sigil of the Archdemon to, then I’ll hear you out.”

There really was no other reason for Naberius to come all the way out here to see Bifrons. Though, his words seemed to imply that he meant to respect Bifrons’s will.

“How kind of you. Won’t Zagan get pissed at you for this?”

“Oh my. Are you worrying about me now? It’ll be fine. Handling your Sigil isn’t part of my contract with him.”

He was apparently being serious. Bifrons hesitated a little. Fundamentally, they hopelessly rejected the idea of yielding their fate to another. They would die by their own will, at a time and place of their choosing. Even if they were already done with the world at that point, handing something of theirs to another felt questionable.

Well, whatever...

They no longer had the leisure to spare any thought for such things. If Naberius was truly willing to hand the Sigil of the Archdemon over to a person of Bifrons’s choosing, it was something to be grateful for. The fact that they were being used in the process didn’t really matter anymore.

“I really do despise you,” Bifrons said, flashing a smile as a minimal show of defiance. “Still, I have to acknowledge that you have an eye for others.”

“Oh?”

“I’d like my Sigil to go to ——.”

Upon hearing that name, Naberius narrowed his eye happily. The one they’d named was the sorcerer Naberius had recommended to succeed Marchosias one year ago, after all.

“Hee hee hee! So you do understand how charming she is, I take it?”

“Heh heh... I’m offended to agree with you, but she is a rather fascinating child. If I were to play with her again, I might lose even if I were in perfect shape.”

One year ago, Zagan had been the only candidate with such potential. However, the girl had grown far more than Bifrons had anticipated. Perhaps that had been the only time that they’d been so deeply moved by another since becoming an Archdemon.

“Very well, then,” Naberius answered with a theatrical bow. “When you die, I shall deliver your Sigil of the Archdemon to her. I promise you on the honor of Archdemon Naberius.”

He then paused, shamelessly acted as if he’d just remembered something, and added, “Now then, that’s all the business I have here, but I do wonder why you’ve secluded yourself in this place?”

You obviously know already. How utterly shameless.

That shamelessness was what made these two Archdemons so similar, but Bifrons didn’t seem to like that. Seeing that Bifrons remained silent, Naberius took a look around the area in admiration.

“For whatever reason, that thing is drawn by the Sigil of the Archdemon. You plan to call it using yours, don’t you?”

Even having lost their right arm, Bifrons’s disembodied hand marked with the Sigil sat atop their lap. Naberius may have been an eccentric, but he was still a six-hundred-year-old Archdemon. Thus, he read Bifrons’s intentions in an instant.

“I didn’t think that you’d gotten so senile that you’d need to go out of your way to confirm such a thing,” Bifrons said with a grimace.

“Hee hee hee! No, you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m asking why you chose this place in particular. There are no people nearby. In fact, there’s nothing you can even make use of. Doesn’t that put you at a severe disadvantage?”

“Well...Archdemon Orias hates having others see her true identity and strength. Aren’t I awfully considerate to clear the place out for her?”

Yes. There was no need for Bifrons to fight at all. So long as they snatched away victory in the end, nothing else mattered.

“You truly are always dishonest with yourself,” Naberius replied with a mirthful smile. “Well, that is what I would expect of you, I suppose.”

He then took a seat next to Bifrons in a resigned manner.

“What are you doing?” Bifrons asked.

“I’ll lend you a hand. Honestly, you’re a little uneasy about whether a single Sigil is enough to fish that thing out, right?” Naberius answered with a giggle. “Also, I do have some time to kill. Watching this battle may be the Lord of Magic Eyes’s job, but that just leaves me a lot of time to spare. I can at least hear you out.”

“But I’ve been telling you to leave me alone...”

Realizing once more that they truly hated this man, Bifrons let out a sigh.