Chapter 3

An Apocalyptic Election: Suppose the World’s Leader Was Decided via Fisticuffs

The Sacred Mountain Rite, a tournament held every four years to decide which clan would rule the Ascorbic Domain. The leader of the victorious clan would run the Domain for the next four years. As elections went, it was both retrograde and enthralling.

The rite itself lasted for months. An impartial lottery divvied the clans into groups, resulting in eight clans advancing to the final tournament. Basically, the same as the World Cup.

The finals took place on the ritual stage in the foothills of the Sacred Mountain, Keihi, attended by crowds local and foreign, nobility, merchants, and ordinary people alike.

And the format of each individual battle…was determined by drawing straws.

That may raise a few eyebrows, but this was part of the fun. Battles weren’t just one-on-one—you might get three-on-three or battles requiring specific weapons or even more outlandish elements like a three-legged race. The sheer variety and potential for upsets kept the action thrilling.

“All is as the Sacred Beast desires,” they claimed. The rite had a heavy religious angle, with the battles being offered up to the Sacred Mountain’s god.

Today marked the day of the final battle.

The stage was blessed with clear skies, and a massive crowd gathered at the sanctuary, which was built nearly an hour’s walk from the base. Of traditional wooden construction, it was decorated with torii-style gates, geometrically arranged rock states, pale pink wards made from the “Sacred Beast’s favorite food,” Mastema Fruits. All accompanied by the soothing scent of incense… Each and every one of these things clearly so religiously significant that touching them seemed liable to bring misfortune. Even those of little faith would likely keep their hands to themselves.

At the heart of this solemn sanctuary, blanketed by clean mountain air, was the venue itself, set at the base of a circular indentation. They’d hauled earth from the mountain’s base, hardening it into a stage, and scattered gravel all around.

It had all the austere beauty of a Zen garden.

The crowd was less touristy than international dignitaries, monks, and clan members here to support their sides—so they were pretty serious in their own right.

It seemed less like a martial arts competition than a purification or harvest ritual. Lloyd’s back instinctively stiffened as he arrived.

“Nothing like the Student Sorcery Tournament,” Riho noted, visibly uncomfortable. “So many VIPs in the crowd… We’re totally out of our element, huh?”

“It’s like I’ve accidentally wandered into a stranger’s wedding.”

“Right you are, Lloyd!” Marie said. “Those looks suggest they don’t think we belong here.”

Since they weren’t even from the Ascorbic Domain, they technically didn’t belong here.

“Don’t worry about it. This wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t used that poison. And we can always formally make you part of the Kyounin clan once this is over, heh-heh-heh!”

Phyllo pointedly ignored Anzu’s “joke.”

“…It isn’t just hostility. Some…are curious.”

“They’re definitely wondering what we can do,” Lloyd observed, picking up on the same thing. “Everyone from the Domain is so eager to better themselves!”

“Not just that,” Anzu corrected. “Merchants looking for bodyguards, guild scouts—there’s lots of people taking stock of you here.”

“Yikes, scouts? This is like a high-pressure job interview. Stressful!” Riho exclaimed, not sounding at all stressed.

“We’re here as ringers for the downed Kyounin students.” Selen nodded. “Naturally, they want to know how good we are. Sadly, I’ve already secured a lifelong position at Sir Lloyd’s side, so scouting me will do them no good at all.”

The usual delusional tinge was met with the usual frosty stares from the rest of the girls—just take that as a given.

“Mistress, perhaps best not to be too optimistic. Your rivals have been making great strides— Augh! Please, don’t tie me in a bow!”

Selen had grown worryingly good at quelling Vritra’s objections.

Meanwhile, Lloyd was more worried about living up to the audience’s expectations.

“It’s not just Anzu and the Kyounin clan. If we fail, they’ll think less of the entire Azami Kingdom. We’ve gotta avoid that…!”

“Don’t let yourself think such things, Lloyd,” Satan interrupted. “You’ve made great strides in a very short time span. You’ve got Satan’s seal of approval! Don’t you agree, Anzu?”

Anzu caught his glance and nodded. “Yeah, and the contents of the battle is down to the luck of the draw. Don’t worry; you’ll only have to fight if the format agrees with you. Pretty sure you could win no matter the format, but…”

“Ah-ha-ha, you’re both far too kind.”

Lloyd’s low self-esteem was enough to break down barriers between demon lords and humans; Satan and Anzu were now exchanging rueful glances like old friends.

Phyllo was running through the tournament guide. “……We draw for each match, and it’s best of five…so three wins to victory?”

“Right,” Anzu replied. “See that big ole wooden box? We pick reps based on what’s written there and send ’em out to battle.”

“……And everyone’s okay with that? Doesn’t this decide who rules?”

“Okay with it? I mean, it’s holy. A festival to honor the Sacred Beast, held once every four years—and somewhere along the line, it wound up also deciding who’s in charge. Drawing straws may sound crazy, but pretty much everything’s a fight of some kind, so…should be fun!”

“……Hmph!” Phyllo snorted, clearly ready to try her new moves out in real combat.

“Fights, huh?” Lloyd voiced. “If they had cooking or cleaning, I’d definitely be in for those!”

This earned him a round of extremely pleasant smiles…and that mood was shattered by a Kyounin warrior, who came running over.

“Hahh…hahh…! Lady Anzu…!”

“What? You seem upset.”

The warrior was badly out of breath, and Anzu had to pat her on the back until she calmed down.

“W-weird intruders…at the Kyounin camp!”

“How weird?”

The warrior shuddered, clearly not wanting to remember it. “A half-naked man…”

That was all Anzu needed to hear. She was already shaking her head, looking exhausted. “Geez, another assassin sent by Nexamic? Desperate to win no matter the cost, huh.”

“But if it was Nexamic, he’d have introduced himself as part of the Tiger clan.”

“It’s trouble no matter what, Marie. But if he gets too bad, I’ll just have to cut him down.”

Anzu headed off with an indomitable grin. The crew from Azami followed.

In the hall outside the sanctuary, they found an odd assembly. Women letting out little shrieks. Security priests fuming. And two people everyone in Lloyd’s group recognized—Merthophan and Micona.

The former was, naturally, in a loincloth.

“You there! What’s the meaning of this? Put your clothes on!”

“I’m wearing clothes! Any farmer knows that! This is Traditional Farming Attire!”

“So you don’t need to be dressed like that now.”

The priest had an excellent point.

“I do!” Merthophan insisted. “I’m looking for someone. Ma’am, have you seen this boy?”

Merthophan swiped the front flap of his loincloth, and an image of Lloyd appeared on it. “We’re looking for him…”

The little shriek became a big one. A natural reaction to a man with an image of a cute young boy on his loincloth flap.

Micona stood by, making no effort to stop her former superior, simply letting her own desires take the throttle. “Let us in right now! I can smell Marie’s tantalizing odor from inside!”

Any scent emanating from Marie was entirely because she’d eaten yakisoba from a festival stall.

“Odor? I smell nothing but incense. Augh! Don’t do that! Stoppp!”

“Let me in, or this treant will rip you asunder!”

Her desires opened that throttle a bit too far, and tree roots gushed out, binding the priest. The screams grew even longer. It was now a hellscape.

“““…………”””

Coming across an acquaintance making a spectacle of themselves was always awkward.

Anzu was still traumatized from being chased all over Azami by the loincloth and treant combo.

“Aughhhhh!”

And that was now revived. After a quick screech, she wound up rolled tight like a pill bug, biting her thumb.

“Mm? Oh!” Merthophan heard her scream and let out a friendly shout an octave higher, like a housewife who’s just spotted a gossip buddy down the way.

“Lady Anzu! If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes!”

“Oh, Lady An— And Marieee!”

The crowd parted voluntarily, like the sea before Moses, not wanting anything to do with her biological transmogrification. A touching reunion.

“Oh, and Lloyd!” Merthophan added. “Glad we finally caught up. When we got to the headquarters of the Kyounin clan, you were already gone! I never imagined you’d be halfway up the Sacred Mountain! It’s rather chilly up here.”

“Then put some clothes on, Ex-Colonel Merthophan. You’re abroad.”

“Prin— Ahem, Marie. Pardon me. Certainly, I should have taken the local climate into consideration. As the agricultural adviser, consider me shamed.”

“That’s not the shameful thing, Merthophan,” Riho reminded.

No matter what country he was in, the loincloth was a public nuisance. Do try to avoid stripping to your skivvies on vacation, dear reader.

Selen had never seen these two together. “What’s going on here?” she asked, frowning. “Why are you here? Are you in cahoots?”

Micona managed to stop herself, panting, inches from Marie long enough to answer. “Good question, Selen Hemein! Obviously, I am here to see Marie.”

A simple answer that silenced all. The second time today!

“Micona, were you so desperate for my medicine you came all this way?” Marie asked. As ever, she was the only one here unaware of what drove Micona’s aggression. It would have a severe toll on their relationship if she worked it out, so perhaps best to let that sleeping dog lie.

Meanwhile, loincloth Merthophan looked rather confused.

“Truth is, Micona Zol and Chief Alka insisted they had to come here. I leave the reason to your imaginations, but…I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

“…I know what you should do. Put your clothes on.” Phyllo glared pointedly at him until he reluctantly began to get dressed. Starting with the top. You’d think you’d want that crotch covered first, but nope.

Marie, meanwhile, had peeled herself away from Micona at the mention of Alka.

“Gah, the kid grandma?! Master Alka’s here? Where?! Where?!”

“Alka went off with a bunny costume, looking grim.”

“She… A bunny costume? I’m lost. What could she be up to? She’s turned me into frogs and bugs but…a bunny? I mean, that would be cute, but…I’d rather not…”

Given Alka’s usual bullshit, Marie just assumed this was a portent.

Micona was panting over that, too, but she and the loincloth man had been causing a scene outside the Kyounin camp, so…

“What’s all this?” A group of important-looking Ascorbians were approaching.

“Are you…the Ascorbic police? The Priest Squad?” Marie asked.

They wore white vestments and carried spears, brandishing them like…all cops do around criminals. At the center of them was an elder priest, glaring fiercely at the crowd over his mustache.

At the end of this circuit, he found Anzu curled up with her thumb in her mouth and sneered, “You know these ruffians, Lady Anzu? And you call yourself a ruler in the holy grounds protected by the Sacred Beast?”

His spite was enough to snap her back into character. “Priest Chief,” she managed to say, summoning her old gravitas once more. “Thank you for overseeing the battles today.”

His hairy lip curled with disdain, and he snorted once. “Need I remind you again the Kyounin clan does not rule alone?”

Getting a big asshole vibe off him, Selen leaned over, whispering in Marie’s ear.

“What’s a Priest Squad? Who gets to talk like that to Lady Anzu?”

“They’re a division of the clergy in the Ascorbic Domain. Tasked with handling trouble. Essentially the Ascorbic police force. It’s their job to keep events like this running smoothly, so sometimes they’ll have more power than the actual ruler. Since they oversee the Sacred Mountain itself and the tournament associated with it and help with internal administration, they’re convinced the Domain is helpless without them.”

So they were a police force that doubled as a bureaucracy.

“You’re so well informed, Marie.” Micona was well into brown-nosing mode.

The Priest Chief and Anzu were still going at it.

“You seem nervous. First time defending your title got you frazzled?”

“Hardly! There’s just…been a lot going on.”

“That’s what frazzled usually means.”

Anzu couldn’t argue with that.

“Everyone’s frazzled their first time!” he exclaimed, seizing his chance. “Don’t disgrace our predecessors! Make sure this is done right. Be on the lookout for accidents, incidents, and anything unnecessary or irregular.”

“Sure, sure,” she said, letting it wash over her. Clearly, she’d dealt with him before.

“There are visiting dignitaries from across the continent, and we must stay on schedule and complete this rite without a single mishap! I trust we have your cooperation.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Having your team composed primarily of outsiders is ordinarily not something we’d allow, but there are too many visitors looking forward to the tournament to end in a called loss. Be grateful!”

“Oh, I am. Thank you, thank you.”

“If there’s a disaster on my watch, it’ll be recounted for generations of my family to come, and that would never do…”

“……His real motivation,” Phyllo muttered.

Before the Priest Chief could complain any further, Renge and Nexamic burst in.

“Mwa-ha-ha! More trouble, Anzu? If you need to relax, just ply my hamstrings!”

“You haven’t had enough tea. All that energy spent gathering this riffraff and now you’re breaking apart on the ascent. How inelegant…”

Anzu fired back. “Big talk from an alliance of convenience that can’t even stand each other.”

Renge pointed her teacup at Anzu. “That issue is long since resolved. Allow me to inform you there is no longer any chance of you succeeding. Right, Sir Allan?”

At his name, Allan emerged, looking just as guilty as the day before. “Uh, yeah…not really… I just want to say—”

This was his chance. His last opportunity to escape being beaten in front of a crowd, mistaken for a fool who got himself possessed by a demon lord. He tried desperately to communicate.

“If you can’t speak your mind, say it with muscle! If any of you have any! This is Allan’s declaration of war!”

“No, no, I’m trying to say—”

Before he could actually say anything, Merthophan roared, “What’s this, Allan? Why are you on their side?!”

“Gah, Ex-Colonel Merthophan? And Micona, too?!”

“What am I, an add-on? You clearly wish me to rake you over the coals.”

Lloyd hastily tried to fill them in. “Don’t blame Allan! You see, he…”

He told them both how Allan came to be possessed by a demon lord. This involved quite a bit of speculation on his part and was mostly wrong.

Their looks of contempt soon turned to pity.

“I’ve…never seen either of you look so sweetly at me…”

That alone was pitiable.

“I see, Allan,” Merthophan sympathized. “You’ve suffered the same fate I did at the hands of Abaddon.”

“I thought it was odd that you noticed me second, given all my successes as head of the second year. But your mind is not yours—like mine when the treants had taken control.”

“Don’t be so easily convinced!” Allan roared.

They’d both suffered at the hands of that vile power…and easily accepted Allan’s betrayal as a side effect.

“We must allow Lloyd and Allan to battle. He’s the only one who can lift the demon lord’s curse!”

“I hate that you’ve forced me to agree to that, but…Lloyd Belladonna! You’re the only one who can save Allan Toin Lidocaine,” Micona agreed.

Buying into the misunderstanding was one thing, but now they were busy delivering the final blow. The last thing Allan had wanted was to fight Lloyd… Sometimes the best intentions lead to the worst results.

Micona’s and Merthophan’s plights at the hands of those other demon lords were very convincing; everyone listening was now certain Lloyd was the boy for the job.

“If it was anyone but Lloyd…I could have lost the match and gone, ‘The curse is lifted!’ But with him, I dunno if I can lose with my limbs attached…”

Allan’s hopes were evaporating like mist in sunlight.

“You were a fool, Allan!” he wailed to himself. “Ex-Colonel Merthophan and Micona would never do anything the way I want them to. Of course they’d try to be nice for the first time ever! I should have known. I was born doomed!”

Having given up to a fatalistic level, he was reduced to muttering “No use!” under his breath.

Oblivious to this, the ax at his hip was gradually accumulating heat. “Spiky-haired Satan! This is a proxy war, baby!”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying! But I accept the challenge! Lloyd will send you packing and free Allan from your control.”

“No one was offering a challenge! And you’re snapping even faster than before, Surtr!” Riho said.

“Seems his mind is still in there,” Selen commented.

“…He always was tough. Hang in there…Master will free you!”

The tension was growing. They seemed ready to fight right then and there—but then the Priest Chief stepped in.

“Not here! Not here. No fighting outside the ring! Not on my watch! Do it after I retire!”

“……You really aren’t trying to hide anything, huh?”

“Priest Chief, do not be concerned!” Nexamic accosted the older man, pecs rippling. “This is merely a demonstration! Part of the pre-match performance! Just a little heart-on-heart action!”

Despite the dubious phrasing, the Priest Chief immediately backed down. “Fine, then,” he said. Clearly only caring about whether things harmed his reputation.

“In other words, you can add that tanned lad and the girl with massive pecs to your team, but it will not shake us from inevitable victory! No matter how many string beans you have, the Tiger Hamstrings will prevail!”

“Indeed. Adding further inelegant clods poses no threat to us at all.”

Merthophan stepped forward in the face of their jeers. “String beans? Are you mocking string beans?!”

Wrong thing to get mad about, but…his mind had long since gone to the farm, so perhaps this should be expected.

“Inelegant? I don’t care what you call me, but you’re including Marie in that? Do you not have eyes?!” Micona was also predisposed to getting mad about indirect insults if they affected the only one she cared about.

“Mwa-ha-ha! If you wish to contest the point, then let muscle speak to muscle in the tournament to come! Lloyd, we’ll be giving you everything we’ve got, so make sure you bring your best!”

“Even if I defeat you, don’t grow despondent. True elegance demands you always keep your head raised!”

Both were assuming Lloyd was weak and projecting their past selves onto him—and as a result, being rather supportive.

“Uh, okay. Thank you! But I’m not going to lose. I have to win and get Allan back!”

“A touch of confidence, I see! If only you had muscles, you’d be an ideal man.”

Except Lloyd didn’t just gain confidence; he’d mastered the ability to fly.

“Yes, if you only had elegance… Still, I’m afraid we’re not giving up on Sir Allan. Even once the rite is over.”

A bit of her own desires were mixed in there.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Lloyd blinked at her.

“You know,” Renge whispered. “There’s the ceremony and…don’t make me say it out loud, Lloyd.”

She was clearly getting ahead of herself…and clearly going to be a problem long-term.

“That lady reminds me of me,” Selen growled.

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

“……Mm.”

Riho and Phyllo smelled the same kinda trouble on both girls. But with all the misunderstandings in the air, it was more suspicion than confirmation.

Oblivious to their stares, Renge and Nexamic offered Lloyd more words of encouragement—unaware that this had already led to him encountering Satan and improving his skills beyond their wildest imaginings.

“They’re better teachers than Anzu is…”

“Er, that’s harsh! But what did Lloyd do to get them both so…attentive?”

Just a long string of misconceptions that had them projecting their past selves onto him. With all the talk of getting him back, Allan was now officially in the “captured damsel” role—which was making him weep.

“L-Lloyd!”

“Even if I have to fight Allan—!”

“L-Lloooooyd!” Allan had gone from touched to terrified in the blink of an eye.

“Mwa-ha-ha! I guess it’s time’s up (and pump up)! We bid you farewell! Come, Sir Allan!”

“The tyranny of the Kyounin clan ends today! Adieu. Let us make our departure, Sir Allan—put your arm in mine.”

“Mwa-ha-ha! A bicep lock! How festive!”

“D-don’t pull—augh, I’m gonna have to fight after all…!”

Renge and Nexamic on each arm, Allan was dragged away, his anguished cries echoing in his wake.

Merthophan and Micona watched with looks of pity.

“Whew, trouble at every turn!” the Priest Chief observed. “Do try not to make things worse.”

He turned to go, but Anzu grabbed his arm. “Hang on a second, Chief. We’ve got two new entrants.”

Like ordering another beer, she added Merthophan and Micona to their roster. The Priest Chief made a face but nodded and made his exit.

An hour after the public loincloth incident, the new entrants were processed and ready to go, and everyone was seated with their camp, waiting for the tournament to begin.

Simple chairs of stretched cloth and wood were placed before the banners of their camp, like Warring States–era warlords before a battle or fighters before an Edo-era duel.

There was a whole string of rituals and prayers that were never used with ordinary competitions, which really added to the ceremonial feel. Anzu, Nexamic, and Renge were all on their best behavior, looking as dignified as possible.

The Azami contingent were caught up in the mood, looking tense…

“Ugh, so stiff! Like Merthophan at orientation. I remember how he said to make our hearts, bodies, and hearts strong. Doubling down on the hearts! Who remembers that?”

“I was consumed with loathing for Jiou… Please don’t remind me.”

“I was consumed with love for Lloyd and not listening.”

“……Three hundred twenty-one… Three hundred twenty-two…”

“I know you’re bored, Phyllo Quinone. But that’s no reason to start doing push-ups. Boring as it is, there is value in boredom.”

“Micona, you seem more bored than anyone.”

“You dare voice an opinion about me, Lloyd Belladonna? Do you wish to rekindle our battle right here and now?”

…Of course they weren’t on good behavior. They were all as oblivious as they were eccentric.

“You could call it confidence, I guess,” Anzu muttered. Marie apologized on behalf of all of them.

“……Micona…they’re about to explain the rules.”

The prayers were finally over, and the Priest Chief had taken the stage. The solemn vibe faded, and the crowd started getting worked up. Using a megaphone fitted with a voice-amplifying magic stone, he bowed to the audience and began to announce the first match.

“And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for! The war rites we offer up to the Sacred Beast!”

“War rites?” Merthophan muttered. “That’s certainly a grand phrase. All part of the religious aspect?”

“Both clans have brought their might to bear! Whichever wins three of five matches has earned the right to an audience with the Sacred Beast and will serve as the exalted ruler of the Ascorbic Domain for the next four years! I’m sure you’re all curious to know the format of the matches: That will be determined by the contents of this very box!”

The Priest Chief held the ancient wooden box aloft, showing it to the crowds. There was something written on it with a calligraphy pen, but it was far too old to be legible.

“He’s trying to make it sound impressive, but we’re just drawing lots,” Riho grumbled. “Wouldn’t it be faster to just…draw straws to decide who’s in charge?”

“Please, no,” Anzu groaned. “What if we got stuck with the muscle-bound freak show or the woman who can’t shut up about elegance?”

“Oof. Heh, forget I said anything.”

While the Kyounin camp chattered among themselves, the members of their rival camp were all fired up.

“I’ll show them the power of my muscles! The time is here! That is all.”

“Heh-heh-heh. I shall be the most elegant ruler and surpass you, Anzu.”

Anzu’s grin broadened, and her grip on her hilt tightened. “Big talk for poison-dealing cowards. I’ll show you! Whether it’s dueling blades or a good old-fashioned slugfest!”

Radiating intensity, both camps stared at the Priest Chief as he rummaged around in the box.

“I will now perform the draw with the solemn dignity it deserves. The first battle is…”

He looked down at the wooden card he’d drawn and read it aloud.

“Wowzers! Swimsuit piggyback battle! Will anything pop out the seams?!”

The cheering crowd was instantly silenced…like someone had thrown a bucket of water on them.

“Ahem, so…” The Priest Chief looked up, biting his lip as if he knew he’d really slipped up…like your uncle trying to do a magic trick at a wedding reception and nobody applauding.

“Uh, Lady Anzu…you said this was a holy thing? And all the matches would be…fights?”

“……This swimsuit thing ain’t right.”

“That seems positively lewd. As a lady, I object!”

“M’lady Selen… This is where you draw the line…?”

The girls from Azami all expressed their disapproval. (Well, Riho mostly had a bone to pick with Selen.) Anzu herself appeared rather baffled.

“So, uh, they’re usually…normal ideas.”

She was just as uncomfortable with this as they were… Nobody wanted to pop out of a swimsuit.

Nexamic, however, was laughing wildly. “Mwa-ha-ha! Lacking confidence in your figure, Anzu?”

“What are you waiting for? Put your swimsuit on! I’m sure you’ve brought one?” Renge asked.

Anzu saw the entire Tiger contingent holding swimsuits aloft and swore under her breath. “Tch, they saw this coming… Must have tampered with the draw. Bet they knew they’d never win with a normal format. Well planned.”

“What do we do? Raise an objection with the Priest Chief?”

Marie’s suggestion sounded practical, but…

“““Religion is awesooome!!!”””

There were swimsuits on everybody’s minds, and the crowd was going wild. Made it hard to say no.

The uptight elder in charge had clearly opted to insist nothing he’d done was wrong. He was moving right along to the next step.

“It seems the Sacred Beast desires a swimsuit face-off! Ready yourselves for the fiercest of competitions!”

“““We love you, Sacred Beast!!!!”””

Seeing the crowd come together under a single cause, Satan laughed aloud. “Men never change, no matter the world. Can’t say I’m any different.”

Their opponents were busy getting ready…but all their entrants were Tiger clan macho men. All prone to wearing nothing but skivvies anyway…and all looking ready to pop out…

“Mwa-ha-ha! The Tiger clan is used to showing skin! You’ll be desperate to keep your suits on, but we’re happy to pop out at any time! We’ve as good as won! Sir Allan need not enter—this one’s so easy, neither myself nor Renge will join in! All it takes is one twist of the crotch!”

Any time the word crotch got mentioned, it was basically a harassment charge, but Tiger Nexamic was always so boisterous that it didn’t sound that bad.

The crowd was going wild for his hip wriggling.

Renge took a languid sip of tea. “With elegant aplomb, I shall be sipping tea while you display your swimsuit, Anzu.”

Anzu shot her a fierce glare, then turned her attention to picking a team.

“Damn, we’ll need at least three. Two form the mount and one gets carried.”

“I’m out!” Riho said. “No way I’m putting a swimsuit on before this crowd.”

Fortunately, someone else was rather into it. “For shame! As a soldier for Azami and your upperclassman, I shake my head at you, Riho Flavin.”

“Really, Micona?”

Who else? She was making her rack sway pointedly as she launched into a lecture on moral support.

“We help those in need, even if they’re from foreign nations! That’s the point!”

This logic was so fishy that Riho began to suspect ulterior motives.

“She only ever acts up for one reason. Which means…”

“Isn’t that right, Marie? Let’s change into our swimsuits!”

“Huh? Me?!”

“See? She just wants to get Marie in one.”

Basically, everything Micona did was “Marie-a-holic.” This wasn’t really moral support or even moral at all, and the first-years were all giving her scathing looks.

Marie had no clue why Micona was so hell-bent on getting her in a swimsuit, so she cheerfully encouraged the other girls to join in.

“Um, if it was just me, it would be pretty mortifying, but if we all go together… And having more mounts is an advantage.”

“You’re roping us in?!”

“……Ew.”

“Ha? You’re kidding!”

Micona wasn’t letting them off the hook, either. “Marie’s willing to go, so you’re obligated to join her! C’mon! Hurry! Oh, Lloyd Belladonna and Ex-Colonel Merthophan, you can stay here. Any chance contact with Marie’s bare flesh would force me to roast you till the char goes all the way through.”

“Reduced to cinders? Keep those fires down, Micona,” Riho growled. Her role as resident roaster didn’t give her much downtime.

As Micona’s lust reached the boiling point, Merthophan smiled. “Yes, Micona Zol! Saving foreigners is all part of the spirit of the Azami army! I shall observe you in action. Right, Lloyd?”

“Yes! I’ll sear Micona’s heroics into my eyeballs!”

They seemed to be in a competition for most tactless.

“Hmm, searing swimsuits into eyeballs?” Satan muttered. “If I said that, Director Ishikura would be all, ‘Turn in an essay repenting your harassment tomorrow!’”

Hearing that, Vritra uncurled the cursed belt in Satan’s direction. “Um, young Satan. Did you just say Ishi-something?”

“Uh-huh…why do ask, Vritra?”

“Could I trouble you to repeat it? Gah! This again, Mistress?”

Selen was yanking Vritra back like an AD reeling in a camera cable, suddenly in full hustle mode. What was up with her?

“Vritra! No time for pointless chatter! We’ve gotta jump in!”

“M-Mistress, I thought you were against the idea?”

“That was before Sir Lloyd promised to burn me into his retinas! Now I have to put on an aneurysm-inducing swimsuit and ensure he never sleeps at night! This way, Vritra! And, Riho, we need you to help carry.”

“W-wait, Selen! This isn’t exactly a beach; I don’t—”

Belt buckle trailing in her wake, nostrils flaring, Selen never even heard Riho’s weak protests. Poor thing—the harder she tried to argue, the more the crowd roared.

“No arguments! Piggyback fight! Come, Marie! I’ll hook you up with the perfect suit.”

“Miconaaaa! Why are all the options string bikinis?!”

Phyllo was gravely inspecting the rack of suits. “…If the suit will make Master’s nose bleed, it’s a viable option.”

“Why swimsuits? What is that even for?! Neither heart nor body are ready for this!”

Seeing Riho alone still dragging her heels, Anzu offered encouragement—no, her grin was just malicious. She’s got a cunning plan, here.

She raised her voice—loud enough that Renge could hear.

“Don’t worry, Riho! You’re still a teenager! You’ve got lovely skin and tight abs!”

“Yeah, I’m hella scrawny! Not exactly flauntable! Why are you yelling?!”

Oblivious to Anzu’s scheme, Lloyd chimed in. “Riho has lovely skin! You can tell she takes care of it. And she’s in great shape!”

The unexpected compliment left her turning red.

Anzu wasn’t letting up, either. “Right you are, Lloyd! No reason to be ashamed of a slender figure! Only feel shame if you’ve been doing no training, spending all your time gulping down tea, and putting on water weight!”

She repressed a snicker, glancing in Renge’s direction. She was building Riho up to put Renge down.

“Wh-wh-why, I never! I ain’t— I’ll have you know I have complete confidence in my figure.”

“Clearly not. Otherwise, you’d be joining in. But you know I train daily and you don’t. If you go exposing that tea belly, the love of the millennium would freeze right over.”

Renge was so furious she smashed her teacup on the ground, roaring, “You’re on, Anzu! This feud’s gettin’ finalized on piggybacks!”

Nexamic was right next to her doing squats and sweating, but Renge’s rage was so great he stopped and looked up, his sweat quickly becoming…a cold sweat.

“Renge! You’re breaking character!”

“Shut yer can hole, Nexamic! I’ll break anyone who says a funny word! Ya think mah belly’s a water balloon, too, do ya? Get me a swimsuit! This is war!”

“Renge, Renge! Sir Allan’s watching! Mind his gaze!”

Nexamic pointed, and indeed, Allan’s eyes looked ready to pop out of his head.

“……E-elegant! If you’ll pardon me.” Desperate to cover her slip, Renge chugged tea right from the pot, restoring elegance. How exactly is elegance administered orally anyway? Is it some sort of mineral?

Then she muttered, “This is that darned Anzu’s fault! I’ll get her for this!” She wiped her mouth and scowled at her opponent’s camp.

Having seen the whole thing, Allan settled for saying, “Uh, g-good luck?”

“……Women are terrifying,” Surtr hissed.

But the upshot of it all was that Renge was forced to don a suit herself and join the piggyback battle.

Anzu and the Azami girls had changed into suits of every style and color, and the people in the crowd were gasping aloud. Meanwhile, the Tiger clan had formed muscly piggyback trios of speedo-clad deep-tanned macho men.

This was definitely getting gasps from other sections of the audience. They had their fans, too.

“I know this was our trick, but our mounts lack elegance. No charm.”

Riding one of these mounts was Renge herself, looking uncomfortable in a crimson sarong-style swimsuit. Riding a mount opposite, Anzu roared, “So you admit it was a trick? Admitting to foul play?”

“Wha—? Lady Anzu! Steady! It’s a three-girl mount, but we aren’t that stable!” Selen shouted.

The Kyounin clan had opted to go with two mounts, at the cost of safety. Phyllo and Micona were carrying Marie, and Riho and Selen were carrying Anzu.

Riho was super red-faced and not looking up. “I am not cool with this. Can we please get it over with…?”

“…Stay frosty.”

The ref—the Priest Chief—heard the allegations…

“No misconduct has occurred! Nothing would get missed on my watch! There’s no way they could manipulate the selection!”

…He was hell-bent on covering it up. He was the type to get caught red-handed during an internal review later on.

“Have you no eyes, Chief? They’ve prepped tons of suits! Wedding dresses! Cook’s aprons! It’s obvious that they’re up to no good!”

The Priest Chief spit on this charge. “Silence, Anzu Kyounin! This is the Sacred Mountain Rite! Your charges are sacrilege!”

“You’ve got us in swimsuits! If you cared about sacrilege, we’d have clothes on!”

Nexamic guffawed. “Nothing but women! And unstable three-lady mounts, guarding against wardrobe malfunctions! We’ve won already!”

“Micona, argue with him!” Selen urged, clearly blaming this on her.

“Marie’s behind is right in front of me! Clad only in a swimsuit! Hahhhhh!”

Micona’s mind was clearly elsewhere. This close-up was all she’d ever wanted.

“………Does that count as a trance?” Phyllo asked.

She was more worked up than a cat on catnip. Beyond salvation.

“Uh, Micona? We can win this, right? Right?” Marie tightened her headband. When she glanced down at Micona, she found her looking resolute—except for the nosebleed.

“Naturally!” Micona responded.

“…Not the least bit convincing,” Renge chuckled, winding Anzu up. “You may be strong, but if your teams can’t work together—well, just hope the inevitable spillage is an elegant one.”

“Whoever heard of an elegant spillage?! Why don’t you demonstrate?”

Glaring at each other, they both drew their weapons.

“Wait, weapons? In swimsuits?! Isn’t that dangerous?!” Lloyd gasped.

“The goal of a piggyback battle is to capture the opponent’s headband,” Satan mused. “Ordinarily, that wouldn’t require weapons—but this is a spectacle first. Standard fantasy-world stuff. It might be their guts that wind up spilling out!”

As the leaders glared, the Priest Chief yelled, “Time for the first battle! Swimsuit piggyback fight—begin!”

Drums pounded.

The Kyounin clan and Audoc and Tiger clan teams braced for a clash…and stayed braced, waiting for the other to move. In the Kyounin clan’s case, this was largely because three-person mounts weren’t nimble, and one of them was too busy sniffing to do anything. Sad but true.

“Should I take this as confidence? Like a Yokozuna sumo wrestler letting his weight win for him?”

“Leaders should always maintain their aplomb, Anzu. I can win as soon as I take action, but the crowd would be so disappointed! It’s definitely not nerves.”

“Then drop that sarong. Let’s see how sumo you are under there.”

“Drop dead in a ditch! Ugh, hack, hack!”

She definitely had that sarong very tight. Corset tight. It made it rather hard to breathe from the diaphragm.

“I think we can win this without moving,” Riho said. “Just wait till she passes out.”

“Careful, Riho,” Anzu warned. “Her secret art, Dragonfly? It’s pretty good.”

Knowing what was coming, Anzu had her blade drawn and ready.

When Renge’s coughing fit died down, she recovered…and tossed her hatchets—not aiming anywhere near her opponents.

“What, did she totally flub it?”

“Nope! They’re coming!” Anzu roared, raising her katana.

As she did, the hatchets came whizzing back.

“…Like tomahawks? She can control them at will?!”

Even the usually impassive Phyllo was shocked by that one.

“Cough! Heh-heh-heh! Such elegant surprise! The Audoc clan’s secret art, Dragonfly! It’s ax manipulation! Hah…hah…”

She was really struggling with her tight sarong there, but the throwing axes were keeping Anzu plenty busy. Between her swift katana strikes and Selen’s cursed belt, they were holding out for now, but each flying ax hit hard, and their unstable piggyback mount nearly toppled over several times.

“That’s Renge’s secret art. Making her weapons levitate and obey her commands—basically a circus trick.”

“But real hard to handle during a piggyback fight!” Riho yelled. “Why’d you wind her up and get her in this?!”

This was a sound argument.

“She pissed me off! I’m not being the only one on display here!”

…Anzu’s answer was, sadly, all about her baser instincts.

“Well, at least you’re honest!” Marie dodged an ax, naturally sympathetic to these pathetic priorities. “But the situation is dire! Axes flying everyone, macho men charging in!”

“……Any plans? This was your idea, Micona.”

Micona tore her eyes off Marie’s writhing rear end, glanced at the macho-men mounts, and grinned through her nosebleed.

“I do! Now that I’ve feasted my eyes, time I earn that keep. With a little instant death.”

Renge, meanwhile, saw that her axes had stopped both Kyounin units in their tracks and was certain victory was hers. She pointed right at Anzu.

“Time for the elegant finale! Tiger clan! Charge!”

At this, the macho mounts struck poses and hurtled forward.

“Excellent! My beloved Tiger clan gentlemen! Pound them down and snatch their headbands!”

But the macho wave soon had the rug pulled out from under them.

“Mm? What’s wrong?” Nexamic roared. “Move those muscles! Flex! Onward, hamstring brigade!”

But the brigade in question were looking confused.

“Tiger Nexamic! W-we can’t move…!”

“What? Torn muscles? Torn glutes?! No! That’s—”

There were roots around the macho men’s feet, snaring their ankles. They’d appeared from nowhere, growing instantly. It was part of the treant powers Micona harbored. Growing roots beneath her swimsuit, she cackled like…like a demon lord.

“Ahhhhh-ha-ha-ha! The poweeeer! I can do anythiiiing! I might even pull off a back hip circle!”

“Has…that been eluding you?”

“…Tits get in the way of bar exercises… Don’t make her spell it out.”

“Argh, like I’d know! Dammit.” Riho sounded thoroughly defeated.

But Micona just kept cackling, tree roots running wild. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! I’ll snag it all! Headbands or drawers, they’re all miiiine!”

From there on out was like a scene from hell. Tanned macho men shrieking, headbands and bikini briefs getting torn asunder, dozens subjected to tentacle torture…

It was the sort of visuals that would get a saucy TV program pulled off the air. And it had a chilling effect on the crowd.

“Augh, no! Leave the sarong alone! No, that doesn’t mean you can take the rest!”

The enemy commander hoisted up by her roots, Micona turned to the Priest Chief, triumphant.

“Must we continue this contest?” she asked.

“It’s already way over the line!” he roared. “It’s over! Please, no more! Stoppp!”

The Priest Chief simply could not handle mass-produced tanned macho men with torn briefs, so he hastily declared victory.

“Th-the Kyounin clan wins! Fetch some crotch covers! Pronto! You’re defiling the holy rite!”

Micona looked as smug as anyone with a bleeding nose ever had. “Heh-heh! This victory belongs to me and Marie.”

“I—I didn’t do anything?”

The drums pounded again. The Kyounin clan had won without incident. No, given all the enemy spillage, they had won with plenty of incident.

“Waughhhhh…” Renge had been dangling upside down from a root, but the moment victory was announced, she was flung aside, landing face-first. Her students pulled her back to their camp.

Like someone rescued after being stranded up a mountain, the trauma of treant tentacle humiliation would stay with her awhile. She was still shaking, tears flowing. “Th-that was horrific… Roots rippling everywhere, tanned macho men spilling all over the place…”

Allan could hardly bear seeing her like this. “I’m ashamed to attend the same school as her. That’s not all I’m ashamed of…”

This entire conflict might only be happening because he couldn’t manage to warn them about Eug’s plot. With that thought in mind, he quietly held out his jacket.

“S-Sir Allan…!”

“Uh, you don’t wanna catch cold or anything. Good job lasting that long against the monster—Micona. D-don’t let it get you down.”

“I won’t!”

That was easy. But Allan was too dense to get why she’d perked up like she’d just chugged an energy drink.

“……Allan’s demonstrating smooth moves. He’s definitely possessed.”

Allan hadn’t actually heard this, but a chill ran down his spine anyway.

“Feels like a suspicion just got ‘confirmed.’”

Renge was staring up at him, passion in her eyes. “Such a kind soul… I…I’m sure I did agree to marry him…”

Allan was digging himself deeper in more ways than one. Would he ever clear the air…?

With the horrific opening match concluded, and all the spillage being of the wrong kind, the crowd’s enthusiasm was rather dampened. The crazy skills Micona had used to easily secure that victory were sending ripples through the Audoc and Tiger camp.

“Mwa-ha-ha!”

“Eh-heh-heh.”

Or not! Nexamic and Renge were both chortling away, unperturbed.

Renge in particular was fingering the jacket Allan had given her, her smile so gleeful it was hard to believe she’d just been thoroughly trounced.

Anzu had hastily changed back into her usual garb, giving the other camp a look of deep suspicion.

“What’s your problem? How are you laughing? You lost! Show some remorse!”

“Mwa-ha-ha! Your ringers are certainly intimidating! However, are you sure it was the right choice throwing that many people into the first round?”

“Huh?”

“An elegant soul would have read the regulations first, Anzu. Especially the last line. The handwritten one. Ha-choo! Argh, darn it.”

“Not an elegant sneeze, there. But what do you mean, regulations? They’re the same every year!” Anzu quickly scanned the tournament rules…and the handwritten addition made her yelp. “Wh-what the—? You can’t just add that!”

“What’s wrong, Lady Anzu?”

Everyone leaned in, peering at the list in her hand.

“Every contestant can only participate in one match?!”

That’s what the handwritten addition said. “Each participant may only enter one battle from each set of five.”

“Y-you mean if the next battle is a three-legged race, I can’t be on Sir Lloyd’s team?!”

“Mistress, that’s not the biggest issue! Gah…no, not a reef knot!”

As Selen tied Vritra up, Satan scratched his head, nodding.

“Smart,” he commended. “We win in quality, so they’re pushing quantity. A trick like this is…an almost admirable level of obsession.”

Satan might be impressed, but Anzu was screaming. Futilely.

“F-first I’ve heard of it! There’s…there’s never been a rule like that before!”

Clearly anticipating that response, Nexamic kissed his biceps. “The whole point of the rite is to show the range of our talent to the Sacred Beast! We adjusted the rules right before printing.”

“The new ruling clan should have a broad depth of talent, yes? That’s only elegant.”

A contract designed to deceive—they should take this scam to the consumer affairs department.

“Priest Chief!” Anzu roared. “This is on your watch! Check the list before you print it!”

He’d steadfastly dismissed all previous claims, but this time, he was going, “What, really?” and scanning the list. “Uh-oh,” he muttered.

The Priest Chief finally opened his mouth. “Any would-be ruler should read the rules carefully! So sayeth the Sacred Beast!”

He was once again steering that rudder right back toward denial.

“Liar! You only just saw it yourself! I heard you say ‘Uh-oh’!”

“I said nothing of the sort! I would never assume they were the same as last time and overlook their trick! No failures like that would happen on my watch! It’s your fault for not noticing yourself! We’re even!”

“…That’s an admission.”

He was like an underpaid manager not reporting shoplifting because dealing with the paperwork was too much trouble.

“W-well, I probably should have read the rules. Dammit…”

That fact wasn’t going anywhere.

And six of their eight entrants had been wasted on the first match. They’d have to win the next two matches with only two members.

Riho had been mad enough about the swimsuit thing already, and now she exploded. “Micona! This is your fault! You’ve embarrassed us in more ways than one!”

“But it was hot, so who cares?”

“How was that hot?! Who wants to see a tanned-macho-man tentacle show?!”

Her fellow cadets were all advancing on her now. Not only had they been subjected to gross perversions but they were now in danger of losing the whole thing. They didn’t have much riding on the outcome here but had plenty to gripe about.

This shocking twist had left Anzu dumbfounded.

“Wait, then…Lloyd and Ex-Colonel Merthophan have to win the next two battles on their own? If either of them loses…then the other side wins by default?!”

There was suddenly a lot of pressure on Lloyd, and he looked ready to crumble under it.

“No! I-I’m not ready for this…!”

Merthophan appeared astonished by the cunning plan. “No farmer would come up with that! They’ve really thought this through.”

Yeah, this had nothing to do with farming, so…

Nexamic did his patented hamstring flex, ready to coast to victory. “Mwa-ha-ha! Say what you like! We won’t let you have your way with the Ascorbic Domain!”

“As we will elegantly demonstrate in the next battle.” Renge gestured to the Priest Chief, who blithely began rummaging for the next card.

Meanwhile, Alka was following Eve through the mountains in the Audoc territory. She had dropped her old-lady act and was talking like a young woman.

“Never occurred to me King Profen was President Eva. Why the costume?”

“I made it so the Profen kings all wear this thing!” Eve said, hopping up the trail. “Each new king was still me, and nobody realized it was always the same person inside.”

“Why would they?” Alka asked, seemingly impressed by this wild idea. “Nobody believes us if we admit we’re immortal…so is the Profen Kingdom…?”

“Yeah, I founded it! The idea was just to give myself a foothold to figure this world out. I was well versed in intelligence work, after all. I sure was dumbfounded at first— Oh, here we are.”

Eve had led them to a…very old Audoc temple. Exactly the kind of place they’d been talking about on the ship.

“It’s old, but there’s plenty of monks inside—what?”

“……Things might have gone very wrong. Never mind!”

If she’d dragged the boy she doted on to a monk-filled temple and tried anything, she’d have ended up embarrassing herself more than usual.

Eve, however, read her flash of panic as something else entirely.

“Don’t worry, I’m not a ghost. The monks can’t exorcise me!”

“…You sure about that? I’m still finding this hard to believe.”

Alka was sure sweating like she was talking to a ghost.

“You thought I was dead, right?” Eve said merrily. “But nope! This way!”

Beckoning like an amusement park worker, she squeaked off down the hall to a temple room. It had tatami floors and offered a view of the whole Audoc territory. Trees stretched out below, and the forest scents wafted up through the open window.

“……Actual tatami,” Alka gasped. Woven floors, like a traditional Japanese inn—just like she remembered it.

“It’s like you’re at a hot springs back home. And a good one! An expensive room! Impressed?” Eve asked.

Alka settled wordlessly down on a chair by the window, blissfully making the back of the seat creak.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah. Just how I remember it.”

Eve sat down across from her, propped her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand, and gazed out at the view.

“It reminds me of a diplomatic trip I took. Never thought I’d see the like in this fantasy world.”

Not long after, a monk brought some tea and treats. He didn’t bat an eye at Eve’s costume. Alka raised an eyebrow at that.

“You come here often? He seemed used to you.”

“I’m so adorable that I have him wrapped around my little finger! …Just kidding. As king of Profen, I’ve been here pretty often, meeting up with the ruler of the Domain, Anzu. Our little girls-in-charge club.” She patted her costume’s cheeks.

Alka remembered how ruthless she’d been as president and winced. “All part of your intelligence work?”

“Not always, Alka! But let’s be honest, all girls’ clubs are basically espionage. Trading intel on who’s after which guy, who’s available, and how to nab yourself a rich benefactor.”

“You never did mince words.”

Eve cackled, her voice muffled by the mascot head. “I’ve been gathering intel here from Anzy’s predecessor and the predecessor before that. Not only the Ascorbic Domain, either. Local lords, and kingdoms like Rokujou or Azami—since long before either was founded.”

“Before Azami even existed? I suppose I’m not surprised you sprang into action instantly, even after what happened.”

“I’m just a bundle of energy! So naturally I know the former researchers have all become demon lords. And you were a wild demon lord yourself.” She accompanied that with a dramatic point.

“President Eva has the world’s info at her fingertips!” Alka said, shaking her head. “I bet you also know exactly what Eug’s up to, then?”

“Na-tur-al-ly! And practically,” Eve trilled. “She’s still gung ho about her plan to force science-magic hybrid research. And I know—I mean, I can imagine you turned that down.”

Eve kept her tone jokey, trying to hide her connection to—and support of—Eug’s efforts.

“Yeah. So can you tell me what exactly happened on the day in question?”

“Which day is that?”

Alka leaned across the table…like a veteran salesperson done with small talk and ready to get down to business. “That’s why you brought me here, isn’t it?” she said. “When I got there, you were bleeding out. No longer breathing. What happened afterward?”

“……”

“You ignored requests to take it one step at a time…and changed the world to this. What rune did you apply to the world?”

“……”

“……”

““………………””

A strange silence settled over the room.

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

““…………””

Eve was at a total loss. I can’t tell her! My condition was terminal, and I didn’t have long to live, and controlling the device was the only shot I had, so I pushed everyone to work harder, hoping to make myself immortal. This ridiculous mess is all my fault!

She was behind everything. For the most cliché reason.

“Um, is that not why you were looking for me?” Alka asked, appearing puzzled.

Eve was sweating hard in that suit.

Eventually, she croaked, “No comment!”

“What?! No comment?! You said we had lots to catch up on?! I guess not!”

Eve had only brought Alka here to keep her from meddling with the Sacred Mountain Rite and ruining their plans, so honestly, she didn’t have anything to talk about—and quite a lot she didn’t want to talk about…which left her feeling pretty dumb.

“Uh…your tea’s getting cold!” she blathered, gamely trying to deflect.

It was no use.

“You’re offering me tea now? I’ve got more questions for you!”

“It’s really good!” Eve insisted, jerking a cup in through the mouth and gulping noisily.

“Argh, if I can’t ask the real question…what is this? I’m trying to have a serious conversation and you’re knocking back tea like ale?! Why did you even bring me here?”

Eve scrambled for a reason. “Um, um…Eugy’s schemes! We’ve gotta plan against ’em!”

That was actually a pretty good excuse. Eve pumped a fist mentally. Sometimes when you were up against the wall, inspiration really did come along to save you.

“Then start with that! Obviously, Eug’s too self-centered to let it end just because we trounced her. I know I’ve gotta do something, but I’ve been running around putting out the fires…”

Alka paused for a moment, then sighed.

“Can’t you say something to her, President? It’s still too dangerous! The world’s maintaining its shape for now, but there’s no telling what’ll happen if—”

Since Eve was conspiring with Eug, she wound up just going, “Mm,” noncommittally.

That earned her a suspicious look.

“Fact is,” Alka continued. “Mankind wasn’t ready for that system. If she’s placing the world in danger just to get back at me, I’ve got to stop her.”

“But if it goes well, wouldn’t that be a good thing? We might get it all back!”

“Like the world as it used to be?”

“Yep. And…Roy Akizuki.”

Alka’s eyes went wide. “He—”

Eve pressed the advantage. “That’s why I had you all researching this stuff back home. Part of me thinks we oughtta be working with Eugy. Not that I am, of course.”

She really emphasized that last bit, trying to avert suspicion.

It was pretty transparent, but Alka was too rattled to notice.

“Well? Sure you don’t wanna lend Eugy a hand?” Eve asked, getting more than a bit pushy.

If Alka switched sides, they were set, and she was getting excited about the very idea.

Alka took a sip of tea, trying to settle down. A look of regret passed over her.

“I…tried it once. You know, just to see. I used some runes and…made one.”

“One what?”

“A person.”

“What?” Eve froze.

“The demon lords were running wild, so I made a hero to bring peace to the world.”

This was news to Eve, and she was all ears. Not the bunny ears—the person inside.

“I knew it was theoretically possible, but you…actually did it? Wow.”

Alka shook her head. Not out of modesty.

Then she explained how it turned out. “I did my groundwork. I had Eug and the dwarven craftsmen make dungeons and ruins and inscribe significant-looking writing on the stones and walls.”

“I can imagine what that said. Motivational stuff for a hero?”

“Yes. Fairy tales and legends. Tales of how a hero saved the world, spread to all corners of it. Someone even wrote a novel! I made the world aware of the concept of heroes.”

“Totally not my field, but this is that universal subconscious thing? Japan had that concept of kotodama. They gave Edo places powerful names, making people think they were protected land—famous stuff!”

“And these writings made me the priestess of salvation and Vritra a channel for the Last Dungeon—redirecting the mana generated by that device into infinite power.”

“By convincing the world a thing was true—you crafted a world-sized rune.”

“And it went well! Except that if Vritra dies, I end up extremely feeble. In hindsight, probably Eug’s contingency plan.”

“Crafting your own myths and legends… Amazed you actually did it.” Eve sighed.

“The hero exists! The priestess is all-powerful! That’s all it took to produce him—the hero, Sou.”

Eve finally connected the dots. “Oh, him…?” she muttered. “I’ve heard the stories. From way back when. The exploits of Sou, the great hero. Before I even got Profen going. All your doing?”

“And the runes brought Sou to life, and like the writings said, he did it all, just as the world wanted. He sealed away all the wild demon lords.”

“Yay! Bravo… But it didn’t quite work out, huh?”

“No. When his role was done, he should have faded out. But that didn’t happen. The legends lingered in people’s minds, leaving him wandering the world aimlessly, no one able to tell how old he really was. Now he’s working with a Kunlun villager name Shouma. I’m told they’ve taken over the Jiou Empire.”

“Ah-ha. Right.” Eve already knew this, so she was just nodding.

Alka thought that seemed fishy but kept talking, like she was giving confession.

“I’m the one who created him and the reason he’s suffering. After seeing what happens to someone like him—well, even if we could make something like Roy, to me, he would be something else entirely.”

“……”

“And because of Sou, people are suffering. I’ve got to stop him, no matter what it costs me. I’ve gotta make it so nothing like him is ever created again. And…”

“That’s real cool! But what?”

Alka scratched a cheek, looking sheepish. “I dunno if it’s coincidence or what, but I found this boy who looked just like Roy…”

“You…found him? I guess it’s statistically possible.”

“I know I’ve been acting all high and noble, but until I found this boy, I…I admit I regularly got the impulse to rune Roy back into being. Ha-ha-ha.”

“It’s no laughing matter! You might have created a second monster like Sou! ‘Whatever the cost to you’—and I called you cool! Give that back.” Eve held out a hand like she was demanding a payout.

“Sorry,” Alka said, bobbing her head. “Anyway, thanks to him, there’s no more risk of me blowing it. He’s my angel! I don’t just want him in my eyes, I want him in every hole, and it wouldn’t even hurt!”

She was hurtling off the beaten path so far, it scared Eve.

“Uh, Alka? I see time hasn’t fixed this side of you…”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. But as long as I’ve got Lloyd, there’s no reason I’d ever help Eug. And I’ll be risking my life to stop anything that’s a threat to him or his world.”

“Ohhh. Okay, okay.” Eve nodded like she got it. With the costume on, it was hard to tell if she meant it. “Sorry if I stirred up bad memories.”

Alka shook her head. “Nah, it was worth the time. Reminded me of my love for Lloyd, what I need to do, and his love for me. I’d better be going.”

That last one hadn’t really come up, but…Alka couldn’t see Eve raise her eyebrow.

Alka bowed, and Eve made no move to stop her.

“Sorry, this was all so sudden! I know we skipped past some stuff you wanted to talk about. We’ll have to catch up again some other time! I’ll arrange a ship for you.”

“Thank you. I’ll soak in the views, think about Eug, Sou, Shouma, and my future with Lloyd.”

“Oh, um…see ya.” Eve waved after her as she left. “Now I just gotta get her a really slow ship and buy some more time… Geez, she didn’t make it easy for me.”

Alka was headed down the mountain now—so eager to see Lloyd she looked like a girl headed off to a playdate.

“Both Alka and Eug are too hung up on the part they played in changing the world.”

Eve had thoughts of her own on that. She scratched the side of the costume’s head.

“The world changed, huh? …What would they say if they knew the truth?”

The costume quivered. She was laughing inside.

Her whole body shook, like a wind-up toy with a dislodged gear.

By then, the second battle was about to start.

Long story short, our heroes may have won the first battle, but the Audoc and Tiger clans’ conspiracy had altered the rules so Lloyd and Merthophan each had to fight solo and win—or the Kyounin clan would lose by default.

“Crap, first I get swimsuited, now we’re up against the wall! If I lose control of the Domain now, I’ll never be able to face my ancestors!”

“Mwa-ha-ha! You’re gonna have to find a way, Anzu! As for the two of you, you’ll be up against Sir Allan and myself, and the Audoc clan students are pulsing like my own muscles!”

As Nexamic ranted, the Priest Chief pulled a wooden card from the box.

“Please be a normal battle…”

“Yes, I, for one, have no need to see Ex-Colonel Merthophan in a swimsuit. Sir Lloyd, though—,” Selen rambled.

All eyes turned toward the stage.

“The next battle… ‘Daikon Drubbing Duel’!”

That wasn’t exactly a phrase you heard every day.

Two wacky formats in a row was starting to get on Marie’s nerves.

“Hey! First swimsuits, now radishes?! Even if they’ve sneaked in cards designed for them to win, you’d think they’d at least be serious!”

“What are you talking about, witch lady?”

“I have no idea what you could possibly mean.”

The Priest Chief and Selen both just looked offended.

“Uh, Marie, sorry,” Anzu said. She really seemed to mean that. “Daikon duels are actually a long-standing Ascorbic tradition.”

Marie gaped at her like something you’ve always assumed was a minor sport turned out to have a worldwide following.

Merthophan was well versed in farm-adjacent topics and launched into an explanation.

“Daikon dueling was originally a harvest ritual, done in the buff, offering up the drubbing to the gods. When the rice harvest was poor, we got through it by padding our rice with daikon, so the rite was intended to venerate the holy vegetable,” he explained.

“…By hitting each other with them?”

“Phyllo, even if you try to pretend they’re like little boys who are mean to their crushes, it makes no sense.”

While the Azami contingent were flummoxed, the crowd seemed to be waiting for this exact moment. Like, it wasn’t a real Ascorbic rite until the daikon came out.

And adding flames to that fire, pulling in the lion’s share of gazes—

“Mwa-ha-ha! My chance to flex!”

Tiger Nexamic had already taken the stage. Daikon in each hand, a basket of daikon on his back—ready for the drubbing.

“He’s really into this…”

“Yeah, the Tiger clan have won the Domain’s Daikon Drubbing Duel Derby ten years running,” Anzu explained. “No one here is defter with a daikon than him. That mask is actually the champion’s symbol.”

“He’s the head of the Tiger clan, right? Perhaps he should change their name to the Daikon clan.” Selen might have no interest, but Nexamic was only getting more fired up.

“Mwa-ha-ha! My body boasts the greatest endurance in all the Domain! No matter how many daikons batter it, I am unharmed! You don’t have a one-in-a-million shot at victory!”

They didn’t even have the motivation… Well, except for one man.

“A battle with produce?! I’m the only candidate for this! I trust there are no arguments?”

Merthophan. He took a basket of daikons and strode confidently toward the stage.

“No arguments? Obviously not. Like, knock yourself out, dude.”

“I understand, Riho Flavin! You wish to watch from the sidelines, preparing yourself for the inevitable agricultural dominance.”

“I have no clue how you arrived at that conclusion.”

Nexamic saw Merthophan joining him, and his teeth gleamed.

“Ah-ha! You’ll be my opponent, Merthophan Dextro? You underestimate the rigors of the daikon duel! The depth of the radish! Don’t worry—I’ll drub them into you!”

“Hmph—no need.”

“No need? How naive—wait, what?”

Merthophan had put one hand on his uniform lapels…and torn his clothes right off.

Honed muscles gleamed, his skin tanned by hours in the sun, the front flap of his loincloth fluttering in the breeze like a flag—his build was every bit the match for Nexamic’s own. It drew gasps from segments of the crowd.

“What is that beautiful garment?!”

“Traditional! Farming! Attire!”

He took a hand cloth out of…somewhere, tied it around his head, and was ready. Ready for what, nobody was sure.

“You were hiding some cute little muscles there…for shame! Why hide muscles that beautiful? The mind boggles!”

“Muscles are neither for show nor shame. My tanned skin and build are but the byproducts of my work in the fields! My victory in this battle will prove what it is you lack!”

“Mwa-ha-ha! I lack for nothing! Drown in a daikon deluge!”

Merthophan shouldered his own basket and hefted a daikon—looking like he was born with one in hand.

The crowd was starting to realize this dude was something else. Well, they got that impression when they saw the loincloth, but…

“Is this really his first daikon duel? That’s the aura of a seasoned warrior—you can feel the daikon power!”

Anzu had an eye for these things and was already appraising Merthophan’s vegetable aptitude.

“…I know nothing about daikon auras and never want to,” Phyllo muttered, speaking for everyone.

Moments later, drums thundered, marking the beginning of the fight. Skinny buff versus mega macho! The Sacred Mountain Rite’s second battle!

Both circled the stage warily, daikon at the ready.

“I dunno about traditional farming whatever, but you’ll regret stepping into the tiger’s den! Roaaarr!!!!”

A powerful swing! Nexamic was the first to act!

One step into a bound, glutes flaunted at a merciless angle, daikon swinging downward!

“Tiger! Dangerous! The moment your eyes lock on magnificent glute-and-hamstring merger zone, the daikon pounds home! Impossible to dodge! Ascend to the next life with rapture on your face! Merthophan! Dextrooo!”

“Too long a speech. Ex-Colonel Merthophan could easily duck away,” Micona spat.

But he did the exact opposite—taking the daikon head-on!

“Gah!”

The daikon shattered!

“Not so easily, then?” Riho asked, unimpressed.

“I…why? Ex-Colonel, what are you doing? You’re undermining my upperclassman authority!”

Micona’s display earlier had undermined that so hard, she’d never crawl her way up from the resulting pit.

Seeing his opponent fail to dodge, Nexamic pressed his advantage, slamming home daikon after daikon. “Mwa-ha-ha! So much for your bravado! Are those muscles purely decorative?! Mwa-ha-ha! Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

Daikon! Daikon! Daikon! Butt flex! Daikon on the about swing! Hamstring flaunt! Daikon—

Certain of victory, Nexamic was burning through daikons, drubbing the crap out of Merthophan.

“M-Micona’s right, the ex-colonel could be avoiding all of these,” Lloyd observed, his keen eye spotting the crux of the matter.

“Right you are, Lloyd Belladonna! My instincts do not lie! I hate that you’re the one who agrees with me, but today I offer praise instead!”

“…Get over yourself,” Riho muttered.

Lloyd was watching the fight grimly, like a seasoned battle commentator—explaining just why Merthophan was choosing to take a beating. “The ex-colonel is tracking each daikon swing with his eyes, intentionally soaking the blows because…he’s a farmer!”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Look at all the daikons Nexamic shattered!”

At this, Nexamic used up his last daikon and spun round to point at Lloyd.

“Why the shocked yelp, Lloyd?! Did you spot muscles more attractive than my ham— Hngg?!”

Lloyd was pointing at the piles of broken daikons. But what should have been shattered, pulped shards—were all in bite-size pieces, piled neatly in Merthophan’s basket.

This was so clearly nonsensical even Nexamic stopped flexing.

“You absorbed the blows and basketed them… Wh-why?! What purpose does that serve?”

“Isn’t it obvious? A farmer who wastes the product of his fields is insulting the land!”

Merthophan undercut this grand declaration by adjusting his wedgie.

Nexamic reeled backward, stunned. “Wh-what?! You—you soaked my barrage so the staff could enjoy the delicious veggies later?! And you prepped them to an edible size?!”

The entire staff went, “Wait, we have to eat them?”

“Exactly! A farmer’s love at work! I carefully took the blows so they would shatter in bite-size chunks!”

“I-incredible! You mean—I forgot the debt we owe the daikon?!”

“No—that is not all you lack.”

“Hngg?”

“Your build and tan are both cultivated purely for aesthetics—you’ve lost the true essence of beauty!” Merthophan pointed dramatically, launching into a lecture on the man’s own subject!

No Ascorbian cared more about machoness than Nexamic! Having a strange young man insult his build led to a panicked series of Most Muscular Poses, his pecs throbbing with unchecked rage!

“How dare you!”

Undaunted, Merthophan gestured proudly at the bare skin around his loincloth. “True beauty is functional! Muscles built by swinging a hoe in the fields! Tan achieved by hard work in the sun! And a loincloth, symbolic of my love for the farm! These three are one! And I cannot lose.”

Ignoring the radical loincloth-love theory, his argument for naturally cultivated builds was a common one—but Nexamic tried to dismiss it with a snort. “Hmph! What nonsense…hngg?!”

But Nexamic had seen…the “farming love” in Merthophan’s muscles—and deep within it, the build he’d always wanted.

“Very…cute…… Ack!”

“You saw it? The agricultural affection in my flesh? The functional beauty?!”

Nexamic tore his eyes away, desperately trying to shake off the compulsion. “I—I can’t accept this! If I do…then all the time I’ve spent in the gym will be for nothing!”

Merthophan raised his daikon with a sigh, focusing his spirit.

“I inhabit this daikon with my passion for the fields. My farmer’s mind will not shatter, will not bend—and thus, this daikon is invulnerable!”

He was forcibly assigning properties to food—ones that were definitely not very kind to teeth.

How this all worked was beyond comprehension, but the daikon began to glow!

“How…? The daikon is glowing—with such a powerful light!”

Nexamic was momentarily bewitched by it, but he soon shook it off, taking a defensive stance.

“I can’t lose here! My body’s super hard! The secret art Rock Hawk makes my body like solid steel!”

He couldn’t move with it active, but as defensive moves went, it was without equal. The crowd went wild. Seemed like he’d used it a lot in previous daikon duels.

“Heh…,” laughed the loincloth man.

“What’s so funny? A-aughhh!”

Merthophan put both hands on the glowing daikon—and began to spin. It was a sight so sublime, Nexamic forgot that he was in the middle of a match.

“Mwa-ha…so this is functional beauty?”

“In my right hand, the pain of breaking new ground—in my left, the joy of harvest!”

The loincloth man’s spin lifted him aloft…and still spinning, he shot toward his immobilized foe.

“Let the farm winds awaken! Ultimate! Agriculture! Typhoon!”

“M-mwa-ha—mwa-hahhhh!”

Every inch of him clobbered with daikon blows, Nexamic shot into the air and came crashing down, face-first.

“H-how?! No daikon is that hard! To surpass my secret art, Rock Hawk? Impossible!”

“That’s just how hard farm labor is!”

This was probably irrelevant.

Flat out on the ground, shedding manly tears, Nexamic deplored the foolishness of his own losing muscles.

“Functional beauty!” he wailed. “Have I…have I wasted my muscles all these years?!”

“You still have a future! Put in the work—and make it so your muscles are not in vain!”

“M-Merthophan—may I call you brother?”

The loincloth and speedo men clutched together. The crowd applauded the magnificent match.

The Priest Chief referee was certainly somewhat rattled by the particulars, but the victor was clear. “W-winner! Merthophan!”

He grabbed Merthophan’s hand, raising it high.

But the ex-colonel merely shook his head.

“This victory is not mine. It belongs to the farm. A triumph for agriculture!”

“F-for…the concept of agriculture?”

“Say it again! With me!”

“The winner is…agriculture!”

“Agriculture wins! Everyone, together!”

““““““Hooray for agriculture!””””””

“Ag-ri-cul-ture! Ag-ri-cul-ture!”

Adjusting the lie of his loincloth, he fanned their cries.

And the Azami contingent genuinely could not tell what reality he’d escaped to.

One more loss meant the Audoc clan were done, but they didn’t look the least bit concerned.

“I lost not as the daikon duel champion, but as a tiger seeking only muscular beauty. Sorry, everyone! And Renge.”

For once, Nexamic’s age worked to his advantage. The forty-three-year-old knew how to handle defeat. There was a broad smile on his face—he had new goals and a new kindred spirit.

“With a smile that sunny, I can’t stay mad,” Renge said, clutching the jacket Allan had given her.

“Mwa-ha-ha, sunny’s the right word for it! But I’m not ready to roll over and let Anzu sell out the Domain.”

“Of course not! After all, we—”

““Have Sir Allan on our side!””

“Allan! Allan! Allan! Allan…” The whole alliance camp was cheering.

In the middle of the crowd was Allan, looking ready to puke. He alone appeared pretty dang concerned.

“Er, uh…no, no, no.”

When he tried to wave his hands, Renge clasped them to her. “All you have to do is win, Sir Allan! Elegantly!”

“Yeah, but…”

How had it come to this?

The camp was acting like he’d already won. No way he could refuse. He hung his head.

“Sir Allan’s limbering up his shoulders!”

“The key to victory is to release all the tension in your muscles!”

“He’s so relaxed, he almost looks totally depressed! Amazing, Sir Allan!”

They were certainly spinning that hard.

“All ’cause I lost control,” Surtr whispered. “My bad, Allan.”

“No, if I was strong enough to stop you—or if I’d done what I had to from the start, it would never have got this bad.”

He’d let Surtr attack and just kept letting the chaos yank him around. He could only blame himself.

“I’ll do my best to keep control, bro! But if I do lose it…”

“Mm? What?”

“Nah, I just gotta try harder.”

Surtr seemed to have thought better of it. Allan let it pass.

“Please,” he begged. “I’m up against Lloyd, so I need to lose convincingly, go ‘I’m free of the demon lord!’ and return back to my friends.”

“Roger that. I’ll do what I can, baby. Long as ole spiky hair doesn’t cross my line of vision… Come on, Tony Glanzmann. Wait, who the hell is Tony?”

“Don’t ask me! I don’t know any Tonys.”

Mystery names and promises as vague as any politicians weren’t exactly reassuring, but Allan refocused his thoughts on the next battle’s format.

Please…gimme a game of some sort! Anything with no injuries! A card game!

A really pathetic prayer.

Renge and Nexamic were just beaming at him.

“Behold, Renge! He doesn’t want to harm that poor Lloyd kid, so he’s asking the gods for a nonviolent event!”

“Praying for the safety of his foe—how elegant!”

And please give me a way to sort out their misunderstandings and resolve the problems in the Domain and find someone I can love and marry.

Maybe putting a bit too much in god’s hands there. He should try to keep it to one request at a time.

Allan was now waving his arms around like he was driving out evil spirits—and the Priest Chief reached into the box.

The format…was Allan’s worst nightmare.

“Ah-ha! The next round—is a one-on-one no-holds-barred fight!”

“Take a hiiiiiiiiiiiiiint!”

Allan’s shriek was drowned out by the roar of the crowd. No more wacky events—a real brawl! That’s what they’d come to see! This was the second loudest the crowd had cheered. The swimsuits had edged it out, but let’s just pretend that wasn’t true.

“N-no holds barred? Against…”

Lloyd, of course. The entry limit meant he was the only option.

The boy looked as horrified as Allan. A weakling like me, fighting Allan—who’s possessed by a demon lord? With the fate of the Ascorbic Domain on the line?! That was far too much.

“I have to fight Allan? I’m not strong enough!”

Satan put a hand on his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Lloyd. You’re much stronger now. And because the two of you are close, fighting you might help him escape the demon lord’s control. Start by smashing that ax. Perfect chance to try out your new moves.”

His tone got gradually more menacing, and he was glaring over at Surtr. He might not remember it, but shades of their cabaret girl tussle had lingered with him.

“…Okay! I’ll use the move you taught me to wake Allan up, Satan! I know his mind is still in there somewhere, and a man as kind as he is will find a way to pull his punches! And give me an opening!”

He started limbering up. Marie stepped in like a proper coach, whispering advice.

“Listen, Lloyd, first pound him till he can’t move. Breaking his legs will help. Then grab the ax and use your rune to wipe it clean.”

“H-his legs…and why would I clean his ax?”

Lloyd was still unaware that his household wisdom was actually the disenchant rune.

“Um, so…trust me; I’m Azami’s savior!”

Marie was forced to pull out that old title. It might have been generated by Lloyd’s confusion, but it proved convincing.

“Oh, right! You would know! All right. Allan’s possessed by a demon lord! I’ve got to give it all I’ve got. I’ll go break his legs!”

Horrifying words coming from that cute face of his.

“You sure about that, Marie?” Riho whispered, a bead of sweat running down her brow. “He might kill Allan and the demon lord…”

Marie shook her head, dismissing all concern for Allan’s safety. “Anyone possessed by a demon lord is given untold power. My father never trained a day in his life, and it still turned him into a force to be reckoned with… If someone like Allan is under their control, it’s genuinely terrifying.”

Marie had actually fought her possessed father, so this was highly convincing.

“Yes, I was helpless against His Majesty in that state. Even Lloyd can’t let his guard down.”

Merthophan shook his head. He had a lot to regret.

“……But Master Lloyd will be fine.”

“That’s right! Sir Lloyd would never lose!”

Phyllo and Selen exchanged confident nods.

Micona folded her arms, shaking her head. “I’d rather he crush Lloyd Belladonna for good…but when I was possessed myself, I made things hard for Allan. So just this once, I’ll root for them both to come out okay.”

“Way to bend over backward for ’em, Micona.”

Satan was busy talking to Anzu. “If Lloyd looks like he’s in trouble, I’m jumping in, match or not. That might wreck your precious rite, but…are you down?”

“Am I down, Satan? I’ll be cutting in before you even move.”

“Glad to hear it. But I want Lloyd gaining some confidence, so let’s both try and hold back until we really have to step in.”

“…You’ve got the makings of a first-rate teacher.”

Satan scratched his head sheepishly. “If I’d heard that earlier, maybe I’d have picked up a teaching license. Oh well.”

“A demon lord with a license? That’s a good one. How long ago should I have told you this?”

Anzu was just playing along with the gag, but Satan stared absently up at the sky.

“Good question… Honestly, I’d rather like to know myself. Ha-ha-ha…”

Meanwhile, Allan wasn’t absent so much as astral projecting. Where Lloyd was pleasantly motivated, he was depressingly hopeless.

“They’re totally telling him not to hold back for a demon lord, aren’t they?”

He could feel the conclusions being leaped to. The hands holding his possessed ax were clammy with sweat.

“Advice from that spiky guy. Trying to make him come after me first!” Surtr snarled.

“Who is that guy anyway? If he’s a demon lord, aren’t they the ones we should be worried about?”

“Well…sorry, Allan, if I even think about him, I can feel control slipping.”

“Whoops. But I do wonder—argh, I feel so left out.” He drooped again.

Both Nexamic and Renge slapped him on the back.

“Mwa-ha-ha! Sir Allan! Go for broke!”

“Show us the elegance of the dragon slayer!”

They gave him a sudden push, and he stumbled up onstage and almost tripped but managed to take a knee and stay upright.

“Yiiiiiikes, that was close.”

Disaster averted.

And the crowd erupted.

“Huh? Wh-why? What are they cheering about?”

Renge and Nexamic were shouting over the crowds.

“Perfect, Sir Allan! A beautifully elegant entrance!”

“Mwa-ha-ha! Posing on one knee! Ready for anything! Nice flex! You’re nailing it!”

Yes, this had somehow read as “fired up and ready to go.” The crowd had seen it as a dramatic jump to a superhero landing.

“Augh, I was considering just running for it, but now I can’t even do that!”

The crowd was all in a tizzy over his “performance.” Nobody could see that his expression was as gloomy as an office drone on a packed Monday train.

A moment later, Lloyd slowly arrived on the stage. One step at a time, trying to fight the pressure—with the crowd from Azami shouting support from behind.

“You’ve trained hard! Everyone’s got your back! Do this, Lloyd Belladonna!”

Scrunch.

“Save Allan!”

His mind made up, Lloyd’s eyes met Allan’s.

Master versus student.

The cheers were growing rather weak.

“Uh-oh…”

“This doesn’t look…”

“Is he gonna be okay…?”

The famous dragon slayer…versus a wimpy-looking kid.

The entire venue thought the same thing: He didn’t stand a chance.

“Why not just abdicate, Anzu?!” Renge roared. “You can’t put this feeble child into a no-holds-barred match! That’s madness! Or do you think you can take advantage of Sir Allan’s kindness? Are you clinging to power that desperately?!”

Her concern was clearly genuine.

Anzu looked at her like she was nuts. “Renge…when you drink tea all day and never fight, it dulls the instincts. You oughtta get back in the thick of it.”

“All you can do is sling insults! Inelegant! At least stand ready to throw in the towel.”

She kept yowling, but Anzu just shook her head. “Put a lid on it…the only time in your life you’re gonna see a fight this good. A demon lord up against a superkid like Lloyd!”

“Lady Anzu, we can see all your teeth, and it’s terrifying,” Marie said.

“Whoops.” She quickly put her game face on. “With the Domain on the line, I shouldn’t be stopping to enjoy myself.”

“It’s not that I don’t understand, just…”

Even as they spoke, the third battle was about to begin.

“Anything to say to each other?” the Priest Chief asked, largely because if the Kyounin clan won three straight battles, the rite would be over far too early, and he wanted to drag this out a bit.

This was Allan’s last chance to prove he wasn’t possessed, and he did his best!

“Um, Lloyd—”

“Don’t worry, Allan! I’m here to save you!”

Lloyd was resolute!

“That’s nice, but if you could just listen—”

“Satan taught me a new ultimate move! First, I’m gonna break your legs! Once you’re immobilized, I’ll step in and save you!”

“Lis— Break my leeeeeegs?! That’s the opposite of saving!”

Horrifying threats coming out of Lloyd’s cute face were too much for Allan. When the demon lord in his ax heard the word Satan…well, Surtr didn’t let that slide.

“…What, are you an apostle of that spiky asshole?”

“Well, he taught me a lot!” Lloyd exclaimed. “I don’t know what you mean by apostle, but I guess so?”

“Right, say no more, baby! Let’s do this! Time to throw down! Sound that damn gong!”

Surtr was already halfway to crazy town.

“No, wait,” Allan begged, trying to drag this conversation back to his point.

The Priest Chief apparently thought Allan was rushing him and signaled the Priest Squad to ring the bell. “Let the third battle begin!” he shouted and raced off the stage.

Drums pounded. And the instant he heard the signal—

“Die, spiky apostle! You know how much Dom Pérignon I bought?!”

There was a flash, and heat rays burst out of him.

Allan—well, Surtr—had struck the first blow. Fully in pent-up rage mode, fragments of memories pouring out of him in a howl, the demon lord fired everything he had at Lloyd.

““Yikes!””

Both humans were equally startled. The sudden explosion knocked Allan backward off his feet.

Ka-boooom! The rays struck the ground at Lloyd’s feet, and a pillar of fire turned the sky red. This huge opening move left everyone gaping—Allan included.

“Did I get the little—?!” roared Surtr, the only one into this.

Allan’s mind finally caught up. “I sure hope not! The plan was to get in close and tell Lloyd the truth, remember?! You’ve ruined it! You’re already totally out of control! Do your promises mean nothing?!”

So he did have a plan.

Surtr was totally not listening, though. “Yeah? Then you oughtta thank meeee!”

“Huh? For what?”

“If you’d tried that, you’d have gotten yourself killed for sure! Look at ’im!”

Meanwhile, offstage—Renge took one look at the pillar of fire and turned to Anzu. “See?! Lloyd’s doomed! Throw in the towel!”

The pillar had certainly shocked Anzu, too, but…she was already grinning.

“Look again, Renge.”

“At wha— Huhhhh?!”

All eyes turned toward the same thing: the sky above the pillar…where Lloyd was flying, wreathed in Aero.

“Mwa-ha?! Was he blown up there?!”

“No, he’s…flying…”

The boy they’d thought was weak was doing something they’d never seen, and neither of them could process it.

It even cooled Surtr’s head. “If you’d tried to grab him and he used that wind…you’d have been torn apart. Damn, I really can’t keep it together, huh?”

“Right. Okay, this time I’m glad you lashed out. But please, try to control yourself.”

Allan could easily imagine what Lloyd’s Aero would do to him, and a shudder ran up his spine. Meanwhile, Lloyd was looking down at them…and shuddering himself.

“Gosh, Allan’s really strong. Didn’t even hesitate to throw that at me! If I hadn’t used the Wind Cloak, I might have been done for.”

Allan had nothing to do it—that was all Surtr.

“Hey, boy!” Surtr yelled—a bit more controlled. “That’s a cool name! Wind Cloak, huh?”

“Yes, Satan named it for me!”

“Augh, I hate him so much!”

“Control! Keep control! You can’t throw a fit every time you hear his name, Surtr!”

He did have a ridiculously fast fuse. When they’d been human, Satan and Surtr had the same bad taste in women—so this was the opposite of opposites attract.

But Allan’s screams were getting through to the demon lord.

“You’ve got a Wind Cloak?! Then I’m gonna use a Fire Cloak! Wreath myself in fire and burnnnn!”

“Surtr! That’s just suicide!”

“Oh. Good point. Don’t wanna be a juicy roast, do we?”

Having narrowly avoided full-body burns, Allan breathed a sigh of relief. “Dammit, I’m gonna have to surrender. Even if I’ve gotta go down on all fours—”

Then he remembered the camp he was representing.

“Crap, no—if I do that, they’ll find out I was tricking them and kill me! I’d be nothing but an enemy spy!”

A hellish death lay before and behind him. He was tearing his hair, trying to think of a third option.

“Argh, I’ve just gotta keep Surtr under control and lose with my limbs intact!”

“Yo! You could also try winning. Let’s smash Satan’s apostle!”

“Surtr, get a grip! Gotta rein them emotions in! Don’t you dare look at that other demon lord!”

Meanwhile, Lloyd was flying around, watching.

Maybe he’d just lost his nerve, but he looked like an eagle wheeling as they homed in on their prey. As a result, the crowd was getting spooked.

“That’s the Aero flight he used against me,” Micona spat. “It was total improv then, but he’s made it his own.”

She seemed equally annoyed by the loss and his evident improvement.

Since Allan wasn’t moving, Lloyd was taking a cautious approach, but he told himself he shouldn’t be so timid and got ready to swoop in.

“I can’t beat Allan if I hesitate! I’ve gotta risk life and limb!” He gritted his teeth.

“No way, Lloyd! I don’t wanna risk those thiiiings!” Allan wailed.

Both looked equally desperate, but Allan was winning on pathetic.

“Come back to us, Allan! Rahhhhh!”

“I am! Argh, I wish I was anywhere else…”

Lloyd started doing flying hit-and-away tactics, tackling Allan as he swooped by.

“Man, he’s good! Spiky apostle! But how’s this?!” In the ax, Surtr sensed Allan was in trouble and spat flames like a jet, knocking him out of Lloyd’s path.

Riho saw Allan spinning around at the mercy of a flaming ax and gasped, “Look, he’s like a puppet! Really proves he’s possessed!”

Selen nodded. “I thought there was a veeeeery slight chance he wasn’t, but no longer!”

“If you thought that, why didn’t you do something, Belt Princess?!” Allan yowled.

But there was no fighting the possession theory now.

“That yowl is definitely very Allan… If I keep on the offensive, maybe I can knock some sense into him! I’ve gotta try!”

Somehow Allan’s desperate screams had actually made things worse for him.

“Okay!” Lloyd yelled, and his attacks grew even faster.

“Rahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” (It was Lloyd’s most powerful tackle yet!)

“Rahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” (Allan shrieked in the face of certain death.)

From the sidelines, it sort of maybe looked like they were both going full throttle. One of them was just trying to escape with his life, though.

One man swooping through the air and back down for another tackle. The other lurching this way and that, his ax on fire. It wasn’t a battle you saw every day, and the crowd was eating it up.

“How they’ve grown! Magnificent, Lloyd! And Sir Allan!”

“Splendid! Lloyd, you’re positively elegant! Hang in there, Sir Allan!”

Nexamic and Renge were cheering, too.

The man himself—Allan—was about to die. “Eek! Aaaaaah!”

“Yo, yo, don’t lose your nerve on me! We’ve gotta pulverize Satan’s apostle! Get the grinders ready!”

Talking more like a meat cleaver than a battle-ax, Surtr was steadily losing control. Allan just kept running, desperate to survive.

“I’m only human!” he wailed. “Death will be the end for me!”

“Nah, man! Everyone gets one free extra life!” Surtr’s argument was more than a little mad.

“I ain’t like you demon lords! Humans only get the one life! That’s why I’m so desperate!”

“No, I definitely died back then, me and all the other lab workers…” Surtr trailed off into silence. When he spoke again, all the rage was gone.

“Um…yeah, I dunno what I was thinking. Resurrection is pretty atypical.”

“You just worked that out?! Augh! Damn, Lloyd! You’re gonna be the death of me!”

One false move would get him splattered. Allan was barely avoiding certain doom.

“Allan,” Surtr said, sounding genuinely sorry. “This is all my fault. You’re gonna get killed over a misunderstanding.”

“Geez, if only you could have been this calm earlier! Any idea how we can get outta this?”

Sounding more serious than ever before, Surtr explained his plan. “I have one suggestion. You’ll have…to break me.”

“Huh?”

“If I soak that boy’s blows head-on a few times, I’ll shatter into a million pieces. And then I won’t lose control again.”

“Where’s this coming from? What’ll happen to you if the ax breaks?”

“I’ll probably die.”

“……”

“…Of course, death is different for us. A century or two’ll go by, I’ll probably pop back up somewhere, doing the whole demon lord thing. Same as at the lab. So don’t worry about me!”

Allan dodged another of Lloyd’s swoops, saying nothing.

Only when he was safe again did he let himself respond.

“I can’t!” he cried. “You’ve got a goal! You’re looking for the one you love!”

“I said, do it! My crazy ranting brought this on you! Go on! Smash me to bits and prove you’re free of my spell! Everyone will know you’re back to your old self! Big ole happy ending!”

“I can’t go along with that!” He dodged another swoop. As bad as this situation was, Allan had principles.

All Surtr had was regrets. “I’m a demon lord. And all we are is remnants of the past, acting on instinct, trapped by memories we’ve lost. I talked you into putting me in your ax on a whim, and…I never should have done that.”

“But that spiky-haired one isn’t losing his mind like you do. You sure there isn’t a way to keep your marbles?”

“I bet he’s recovered more memories than I have. That’s why he’s not easily losing himself—but I dunno how to get my own memories back. Before it’s too late, you’ve gotta—”

The voice from the ax was fading out, and he could barely hear it.

Dodging again, Allan barked encouragement. “Don’t be a fool! You’ve got a loved one on the line! That’s why you’ve been wandering all this time!”

“You’re the fool! You’re in real danger, here! Show them you’ve broken my spell! Tell them it was Eug’s fault that Surtr was ever here! Prove your innocence!”

“I’ve met demon lords before!” Allan yelled, yanking the ax up toward him like he was grabbing a fistful of Surtr’s shirt. “And you’re way better than they were! Even if you do snap from time to time!”

“Do you have the power to control me? Just ’cause I’m relatively sane? You don’t!”

“Yeah, no chance in hell! I can’t fight a demon lord’s power!”

“That’s my point! You’ve gotta—”

“But if it was a friend who did dumb shit sometimes—that I can stop.”

“A…a friend?”

A wind-cloaked tackle whooshed by so close, it sent Allan flying.

“Shut up and listen!” Allan roared. “You know we’ve got shit in common, right? We’re both a bit oafish, prone to putting our feet in our mouths—but we had a great time sharing tales of woe!”

“Yeah…it did feel a lot like hanging out in a diner all night, shooting the breeze.”

Allan glanced toward the Azami crew, laughing to himself.

“I’m already dealing with a crazy belt princess, a miserly mercenary, and a deadpan martial artist who destroys everything she touches. I’m pretty good at curbing my friends’ worst impulses.”

“……You’ve got it rough, man… Argh, dammit! The urge is riiising again!”

“Simmer down, buddy!”

Surtr’s flames were raging, and he started yelling at himself, trying to keep control. “Yeah, keep it together, Surtr! You don’t need to rage at that spiky douche! With his lame jokes! That phony arch tone! You know he was doomed to be a lifelong virgin!”

“What did you call meeeeeeeeeee?! You’re the virgiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin!”

Mere moments after they’d said he wouldn’t easily lose himself, Satan lost it completely—the shocking truth was too much to let slide.

Their affections had been pure. Their cries were pathetic.

And Surtr’s rage…vanished.

“Uh…why?”

“It’s gone… You’ve got me under control! Our wavelengths synced…which means…”

“I’m also—”

“You’re also—”

““A virgin.””

A very sad common ground, but it had allowed Allan to control the demon lord.

Meanwhile, Lloyd had been moving in for another Aero tackle and was shocked by Satan’s sudden fury.

“Satan? Yikes!”

He lost control of his own spell and crashed into the ground so hard the shock wave sent Allan and his ax flying.

“Oof!”

The blow knocked Allan out, and he collapsed in a heap.

“Whoops,” Lloyd said, pulling his head out of the dirt. “I didn’t pull up in time… Wait, where’s Allan?”

He didn’t realize he’d just won.

“Th-the winner is—Lloyd Belladonna! And the Sacred Mountain Rite victory goes to the Kyounin clan!”

Lloyd looked surprised, then nodded. “Good! My attacks must have woken Allan up. It looked like he had the ax under control! I’m sure he freed himself from the demon lord’s possession! He’s so strong!”

Like always, he was giving credit to everyone but himself.

“If I was any help at all—well, I guess I’m now strong enough to make it a good fight!”

His newfound confidence seemed real, at least.

“It’s been a long time coming,” Riho muttered. “But he’s taken the first step toward self-awareness. Thank you, Satan…Satan?”

Satan was crouched over, his face buried in both hands.

“You can’t say that in front of all these people… I was trying to hide it! Yes, I’ve never been with… And when we get to sharing stories—I almost got caught so many times—”

The rare sight of a demon lord kicking himself. No one dared interrupt.

“Mm? Huh? Is the fight…?”

When Allan woke up, the faces of his friends were all staring down at him.

“You up, Allan? The fight’s over.”

“……You were knocked out of bounds and hit your head. The Kyounin clan wins.”

Riho’s and Phyllo’s reminders were enough to fill in the blanks.

“So I lost…right! I’ve got big news!”

He wasn’t possessed. Eug was involved. He’d managed to control Surtr, who wasn’t a bad guy… There was so much he wanted to say that he tried to scramble to his feet.

Marie stopped him, however, urging rest. “Calm down, Allan. We heard everything—from Surtr.”

“Oh? You—”

“I told ’em everything,” his ax said. “How you were trying to uncover Dr. Eug’s plot and took me with you as evidence. And that you were fighting to keep me from going berserk the whole time.”

“So you’re cool now? No more raging?”

“Seems like. Not as long as you’re holding my reins, heh-heh-heh!”

The demon lord let out a hearty chuckle, and Allan wound up laughing with him.

“Geez, if you weren’t possessed, why didn’t you tell us?”

“And if you weren’t, you shouldn’t have let it attack! That cancels any boost your reputation may have gained.”

“…Given your assault on the clan HQ this morning, you’re one to talk.”

Seeing his friends ribbing each other like always, Allan felt a great sense of relief. He was back home. Then he picked himself up and turned back to the dejected Audoc and Tiger camp.

“Sir Allan…” The rite lost, Renge was clearly beside herself.

“Sorry,” Allan apologized, bowing his head. “I lost the fight. I wish I could have lived up to your expectations.”

Renge gave him a warm smile. “No, it’s okay. I had no idea Lloyd was that strong. I’m glad you’re unharmed.”

“Thank you. I’m just…”

…not that strong.

Before he could finish, a look of passion swept over her.

“Sir Allan was so strong, he forced Lloyd to show his true potential! His growth so great, he literally soared!”

“Uh…what?”

“Mwa-ha-ha! Genius! Unconscious instruction! Lloyd grew through battling you! Only Sir Allan could turn a chick into a phoenix in a handful of blows! The kind of bungle only a truly great warrior could make!”

Lloyd had come into that fight able to fly, but neither of them had realized how dangerous Lloyd always was.

“Uh…wow,” Allan muttered, unable to process how fast things were spinning in his favor.

Renge took his hand, giving it a squeeze. “You may have lost, but thank you for demonstrating your power, Dragon Slayer. You’ve quelled the bad blood and shown us a battle for the ages. One I’ll never forget.”

“Mwa-ha-ha! Me either. I’ll store this lesson in my pecs and show my clan an even more powerful Tiger Jump!”

“Uh, sure…”

Even after this, they still believed in him…and Allan had to doff his hat to that.

Mid-guffaw, Nexamic remembered something. “But now Anzu’s betrayal…”

Whoops, there was one more source of confusion that was still around.

“Nexamic, about that. Truth is—”

It was all Eug’s lie, but before Allan could explain, Anzu stepped in.

“Renge, Nexamic, I hate to break it to you, but I’ve got no plans to betray the Domain. You’ve both bought into someone else’s baloney.”

“What? You can’t keep up the lie after all this!” Renge frowned, her suspicions unwavering.

“I mean, I am pretty tight with Eve from the Profen Kingdom, but that’s it.”

“There’s no truth to the stories? You swear? On my pecs?!”

“Can I swear on something else, Tiger?”

“Mwa-ha-ha! See? You refuse! Guilt confirmed!”

He was flexing his pecs again, and Anzu rolled her eyes at him. She wasn’t earning the Audoc and Tiger clans’ trust back this easy…but really, if she had sworn on his pecs, that would be far less trustworthy.

Allan broke the uncomfortable silence. “Renge, Nexamic, she’s telling the truth. Lady Anzu hasn’t betrayed anyone.”

And if Allan vouched for her…

““We’ll take your word for it, Sir Allan!””

They immediately reversed their positions. The blind faith the dragon slayer had earned was reaching religious levels. Suspicions melted like snow.

“Allan,” Surtr growled. “If you’d just said something at the start, none of this would have happened.”

“I know, Surtr. Don’t spell it out.”

With the air cleared, the leaders of the Domain were now chatting happily. Allan stood by, looking like he wasn’t sure if he had to pee.

“But still,” Renge mused. “We’ve lost our chance at the throne! How inelegant. And frustrating.”

“Sorry, Renge. I’ll make it up to you.”

Renge twitched at that phrase. “Th-then, Sir Allan, will you officially join the Audoc clan?”

“Will I what?”

That was a proposal—albeit a roundabout one.

Nexamic had her back with a macho smile and a thumbs-up. “Nabbing him first, Renge? Well…truth is, I’m planning on stepping away from my clan awhile. Merthophan…he’s my new brother. I intend to learn more about functional beauty from him. I may regret it, but…Sir Allan’s all yours!”

“Um, Ex-Colonel Merthophan’s your brother now?”

There was a bit too much information in that speech for Allan to process, and Renge didn’t give him time.

“We’ve got a great future together! And if…um, you want to tie the knot right away…I wouldn’t object. I’ve basically already accepted your proposal.”

“Um, hang on…tie what knot? Propo-what? I’m so lost.”

Allan’s brain was in stack overflow. His brain never had a great CPU, and “proposal” was so far from his normal vocab range, he totally drew a blank on it.

“Sir Allan, just the other day you told everyone you’d proposed! To my shame, I was too drunk to recall the event.”

Renge was fidgeting, beet red, never once doubting that Surtr’s rage-filled rant about his cabaret girl love had been directed at her and come from Allan himself.

“Um, that was actually Surtr…”

“You accepted my elegant scones with such passion, convincing me I had not been hearing things.”

She was off in the clouds.

“Yo, Allan,” Surtr said. “How hard were you working this lady? You must have been pretty far along if she took my rant that way.”

“What kind of asshole turns down a scone? They were good!”

“Traitor,” Surtr hissed.

“I may have forgotten, but deep in our cups, we promised to get married… The memories of it may have escaped me in the morning, but…Sir Allan, how could I possibly object?”

“Okay, okay, Allan? Allaaaaaan? What else did you do?”

“Nothing! Damn, Surtr, settle down!”

“Boy! Boy with a face like an old man! How’d it go?! Gimme the deets!”

“Now the other demon lord’s after me?! What good would ‘deets’ do you?”

Nothing more had happened than Renge drinking too much, but both these virgin demon lords were convinced that couldn’t be true. Like typical teenage boys.

“Look, I didn’t do anything! Quit leaving room to imagine stuff, Renge! And if you don’t remember what happened, don’t just guess!”

He was doing his best to plead innocent.

But the girls from Azami were all giving him horrified looks. He was definitely falling prey to the “protests too much” logic.

“String a girl along and then tell her she imagined it? Wow, that is so scummy.”

“You’re the last person I wanna hear that word from, Belt Princess!”

“…Scummy.”

“That doesn’t mean I want it from the rest of you, Phyllo! It hits hard!”

Merthophan started lecturing over his loincloth. “An Azami soldier’s behavior should always be impeccable. Take responsibility here, Allan.”

“Huh? This makes no sense! Your outfit is the furthest thing from impeccable!”

Allan was really coming apart at the seams now, visibly reeling. While that conversation went badly awry, another problem arose.

“What now…? We’ve wrapped up too early!”

The Priest Chief. Since Kyounin had won the rite in three straight fights, sweeping their way to victory, there was a ton of empty time ahead.

And he was desperately trying to think of a way to fill it.

“If the audience floods us with complaints about it being over too quick, it’ll be my reputation that— Hmm?”

His ears had deftly caught the phrases responsibility and tie the knot. He quickly approached to confirm.

“Ladies and gentlemen, do I hear you’re getting hitched?”

“Honestly, you’re making me blush, Priest Chief! That you heard everything is extremely…elegant! Sir Allan and I were just discussing our wedding plans.”

“So I’m locked into this now?!”

They ignored Allan’s protests. This was exactly what the chief needed.

“Your love moves me—what say we hold the ceremony right here?”

This was a step ahead of everyone else and elicited a chorus of surprised yelps.

“I—I am the Priest Chief! And this is a site where holy rites are performed! And there’s a ton of guests craving m— Ahem! I mean, waiting to celebrate your vows.”

All he cared about was keeping things running smoothly, and he’d decided their marriage would be a great time filler. A concept that would turn all brides and grooms in the world against him…

“We heard! We know what you’re actually after!”

“You did not! I swear this is unrelated to the Kyounin clan sweeping their way to victory and ending the rite too soon!”

“…This guy can’t even lie convincingly.”

Allan was just looking horrified all around.

“By all means,” Renge said. Snap decision!

“Er, wait…huh? We’re doing this? What about the clothes? You’d need a wedding dress… Wait, we’re getting married?! Why?!”

Allan was now deeply confused. Fussing about clothes instead of his own participation in the event was proof his priorities were jumbled.

“Mwa-ha-ha! Lucky you are, Sir Allan! We prepared all manner of clothes—not just swimsuits! And that includes tuxes and wedding dresses!”

Nexamic pointed to the clothing rack, and mixed in with the bikinis and aprons was a range of formal attire for all occasions. Lord only knows what other wacky events they’d put in that box.

“Why do you even have those?!” Allan wailed.

“Thank thee, Sacred Beast!” Renge cried. “I never imagined the joke events we put in to mess with Anzu would pay off like this!”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook for that, Renge!” Anzu growled, not pleased their cheating had a happy outcome.

For better or for worse, they had basically everything they needed to throw an impromptu wedding, and Allan’s mind was screaming—his heart the only thing here that wasn’t ready.

“Yes, I—the Priest Chief—was prepared for this eventuality! Come, let’s make this a wedding for the ages! No charge!”

“Great! Come, Sir Allan! I can’t wait to say our vows! Sorry, Anzu, maybe some other day.”

“I’m not in nearly as big a hurry. I mean, are you even sure about this? Here, now, with Allan dragging his heels?”

“The day you desire an elegant wedding is the day it should occur! You’ll have to wait your turn, Anzu, sorry.”

“If it was that easy, no woman would ever have to worry… Also, quit trying to make this a contest.”

Anzu was as irked as she was concerned, but Renge had Allan in an armlock and was already picking out a dress. Total shojo manga eyes.

“Renge’s aggression is a valuable lesson to us all,” Selen declared.

“Don’t take tips from her!” Riho yelped.

Meanwhile, the Priest Chief was getting the stage ready. It was a ritual venue, so they just had to drag the stuff out of storage—and in no time flat, they had a simple marriage setup ready.

“See? Thoroughly prepared! Let the fill—ahem!—holy ceremony begin!”

“World’s first wedding as schedule filler… It’s so sad!” Marie shook her head.

Phyllo just pointed at Renge. “…Hard to call that ‘sad.’ She’s totally into this.”

Renge was in a full bridal gown, makeup flawless, arm in arm with tuxedo-clad Allan. Definitely not letting go.

“Yes, if you hold a wedding ceremony in front of a crowd, it’s a fait accompli. Better write that down… You agree, right, Sir Lloyd? Let’s go scope out some venues soon.”

“Um, I don’t—”

“Don’t ask him that, and don’t follow Renge’s lead, Selen. No seducing, either!”

No telling when the Belt Princess might decide it was time for a surprise wedding.

The contingent from Azami had all missed their chance to intervene and wound up just standing around, watching events unfold. The groom himself was in a similar state.

“Is this how the Ascorbic Domain does things?”

“…I feel I should deny that.” Anzu sounded glum. “But honestly…nobody would believe me.”

Meanwhile, the Priest Chief held up the megaphone. “And we will now be holding a surprise wedding between Renge Audoc of the Audoc clan and Allan… What was it? Er, Sir Allan!”

A stir ran through the crowd.

The audience had seen the setup taking place but were largely baffled by it. Nobody had expected this to happen.

The nominal groom was in the same state of mind. “This is a bad idea,” he argued. “Look, the whole vibe’s changed. Renge, we shouldn’t—”

“I noticed that, too! It would be far more elegant if we had three children already.”

“Three?! Wait…you’re starting to remind me of someone…”

Her selective deafness was really giving Allan belt-themed déjà vu.

“Ha-choo! Oh dear, where did that come from? Do I have a cold?”

“…I think I know the cause. Don’t worry, not a cold.” Phyllo had been reading Allan’s and Renge’s lips, and she gave Selen a sympathetic back pat.

The audience may not have caught up with the surprise wedding concept yet, but Renge had chosen her dress well, and when she stepped into view, the crowd gasped.

“Come, Sir Allan. Escort me! Elegantly.”

“E-escort—?”

She gave him a tug, and he did as he was told. His awkwardness just sold the young groom vibe and got the whole venue on his side.

As they started down the aisle, the drummers starting pounding.

A simple ceremony, but no less impressive for it. The happy (?) couple reached the Priest Chief to thunderous applause. This audience caught on quick.

The chief cleared his throat and waved for silence. “First,” he started, raising the voice amplifier. “I’d like to deliver a few blessings. Is Allan’s boss here?”

“No, no, we’re not at blessings yet—this whole marriage thing is crazy!”

Allan was still trying to back out…

“Boss? I supposed that describes me,” Merthophan called out, totally talking over him.

“You sure about this?”

“Fear not, Riho Flavin. I’ve made speeches like this before.”

“I meant your clothes.”

A loincloth and bandana—it took a leap to even see that as “just in from the fields,” and Riho had plenty to gripe about.

“Slipped my mind!” Merthophan cried. “An occasion like this demands a tie! Appreciate the heads-up, Riho Flavin.”

He produced a white hand cloth out of his loincloth and looped it around his neck. If you tried insisting that was a necktie in a restaurant with a dress code, they’d call the cops.

“Mwa-ha! Brother Merthophan! I’m expecting a speech that’ll leave my hamstrings quivering!”

“Why would they do that? Oh, because it’s so long they go to sleep?” Anzu said.

Nexamic ignored her, giving Merthophan a hearty backslap.

Thus, one strange show pushed another up onstage to act as Allan’s boss.

You’d think a loincloth boss would make the crowd cringe, but they seemed to be into it. Odds are his status as the current Daikon Drubbing Duel champion had made him explosively popular.

He took the magic stone voice amplifier, straightened the hand-towel tie, and launched into a speech. “My name is Merthophan Dextro, and I was formerly the groom’s commanding officer. Allan, Renge, congrats on your wedding.”

Taking the whole situation in stride, the loincloth boss continued to ramble. All Allan could do was give him a silent stare of protest.

“Allan is a wonderful, dedicated man. I’ve never seen him train with anything less than one hundred percent commitment. He may be a bit too serious—sometimes I regret not teaching him how to take a break every now and then.”

It was your classic wedding speech template—heaps of praise, the occasional joke.

“Allan and I wear the same (military) cloth and share the same goals! We are comrades in every sense of the word. We’ve been through the trenches together!”

With that loincloth dangling, this took on a whole new meaning.

“Objection!” Allan yelled. “They’re gonna read that all wrong, Ex-Colonel! Wrap it up!”

“Hngg, did I get too passionate? Well, everyone, let’s give him a round of applause!”

“It’s the clothes! They twist all words! This is a wedding! Technically!”

Allan’s yells drove Merthophan off the stage. No one wanted to be a loincloth aficionado’s “comrade.”

Meanwhile, Renge hadn’t once batted an eye. “I don’t care what underwear you prefer, Sir Allan.”

“Come again, Renge?! Please, tell me you know this is crazy!”

No sooner had Merthophan left the stage…

“Yo…what the……?”

There was a stir by the entrance. A murmur ran through the crowd.

What was it? All eyes turned…

“Man, fine-tuning Surtr took me forever!”

A girl came walking in. She looked to be mid-teens and wore a helmet with goggles, like a coal miner. She was acting like she owned the place, and the crowd was baffled.

The entire Azami contingent yelped, “““Dr. Eug!”””

With her fated rivals assembled, Eug grinned diabolically. “Heh! Surprised to see me here, are you?”

Once again, the answer was a chorus—

“““We forgot about you!”””

All caught up in the insanity of Allan and Renge’s wedding, everyone had completely forgotten that the evil mastermind was still at large.

“How do you forget me?! I don’t deserve open mockery, assholes!”

It was no way to greet an old enemy. Eug bit her lip, tears in her eyes, muttering, “I hate them so much!” Then she hastily wiped her eyes, getting back on topic.

“Ha, I figured you’d have heard about me by now—you all live to get in my way.”

She had nearly driven Azami to the brink of destruction. Her arrival was a serious threat.

“Your meddling in the rite is unforgivable, Dr. Eug!” Merthophan roared—completely ruining the vibe with his attire.

“Put some clothes on! Damn, this is a holy ritual; you can’t have a bunch of wild foreigners running around wrecking stuff! Have a seat and watch it play out. Go on—no chitchat. This is a religious thing!”

It seemed Dr. Eug thought the Sacred Mountain Rite was still in progress.

Already deeply uncomfortable with the whole wedding thing, Allan jumped at the escape her entrance provided.

“I’m all for wrecking stuff! Let’s have big ole throwdown and start over! With less crazy!”

“Why so eager?”

Eug might be a genius, but the idea that anyone would try to fill time with an improvised wedding was beyond her, so after a moment’s thought, she reached the conclusion that the rite was over, and this was some sort of closing ceremony. As anyone sane would.

Since Nexamic and Renge looked thoroughly pleased with themselves, she never doubted their victory. “Ah-ha. This whole groom outfit is sure hinky—this one of those weird local costumes the whole closed-border thing drummed up?”

They were really just having a wedding.

Eug never once imagined her allies had found out the truth and were smiling happily, having bonded over muscles, and taken a step toward matrimony. That’s why she was still smiling herself!

“Congrats, Renge!” she called. Renge took that to mean “on your marriage.”

“Th-thank you! I never thought you’d offer us your blessing, Dr. Eug!”

That was an odd response.

Allan took one look at each of them. “Why would she congratulate us?” he muttered.

Eug was just as thrown by this. “Why wouldn’t I? I’ve been planning this for ages!”

“You were planning this?! This mess is your fault?! Don’t you have anything better to do?!”

“What?! Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked for this?!”

“My god! You’re like somebody’s nosy aunt!”

Growing frustrated, the Priest Chief thrust his oar in.

“Erm, pardon me… This whole thing is just a way to kill time, but we don’t need more trouble, so if we could proceed?”

“Kill time? Whatever, sure, go ahead.”

“Appreciate your cooperation!” he boomed, bowing, and then launched into the next phase of the ceremony.

“Very well! You may now kiss the bride!”

“What in the— Huh?! Back up!”

Finally sensing something amiss, Eug darted over to Nexamic, demanding a briefing.

“Yo, what the hell, Tiger Nexamic? We’ve won the rite, and this is a new ruler crowning ceremony or whatever, right?”

Smiling broadly, he wiggled his pecs at her. “Nope! Afraid we lost the tournament in three straight battles, and now we’re killing time with a wedding!”

“How does that work?! Nobody gets married to kill time! And why do you look so happy if you lost? Don’t you care what happens to the Domain?!”

They both beamed at her.

“Forgive me! I’ve just reached a valuable realization about natural muscle growth and…”

“It seems the whole betrayal thing was a rumor! Allan told us the truth! It’s best to talk these things over.”

“How did today go so wroooooooooooong?!” She threw her helmet, making it spin on the ground. That would win her bonus points at the comedy club.

“I’m guessing she’s the source of the lies?” Riho asked, watching Eug’s tantrum through half-lidded eyes.

“Argh, why are my pawns always like this?! They always make their own decisions at the last second! Argh, good thing I got this ready.”

Her emotions were a whole roller coaster. She suddenly got really quiet and stood up, reaching into her pocket.

“……! She’s armed!” Phyllo braced herself.

Eug proceeded to scatter Mastema Fruit capture devices around—like an angry toddler. They cracked like eggs, and smoke poured out…along with little fire turtles, about a yard long each. Their rough, rocky shells were tinged red like a volcano.

“Couldn’t figure out how to analyze it for some reason, but at this size, they turned out to be ideal for mass production! I turned failure into triumph! I am perfect!”

“So many Mastema Fruits,” Anzu commented. “We had those stored safely until the theft a few decades back—are you the culprit’s kid?! Have you been cultivating them in secret?!”

Eug shot her a toothy grin. “What if I was?”

“It’s your fault the Kyounin clan and the Sacred Beast— You’re gonna pay for this.”

Not the least bit intimidated, Eug cackled aloud. “Rejoice!” she said. “For I am the one who stole them. Believe that as you will.”

The sinister aura about her was strong enough that Anzu put a hand on the hilt of her katana.

“Who the hell is this kid? Another demon lord?”

“That’s something you don’t need to know. Right now—we’re about to get a fire show from the demon lord Surtr!”

This last part was shouted like the MC at an outdoor performance. There were dozens of red turtle monsters shuffling around now—and the Azami crew were facing them down, gulping.

“Oh dear. These things are dangerous!”

“Like the locusts at the exhibition match or foundation-day festival.”

Both Selen and Riho had fought mass-produced demon lord clones before.

“Priest Chief,” Anzu called out, “we’ve gotta evacuate. This is an emergency!”

But Mr. Save Face was less concerned with evacuating than evading responsibility.

“N-never! Not on my watch; not while I’d be blamed—”

“This ain’t the time! Get the audience out before they panic! Before anyone dies!”

While she went after the chief, Nexamic’s muscles rippled toward Eug.

“Eug,” he boomed.

“Ha-ha! Even you’re surprised, Tiger Nexamic? Yes, I am behind—”

Meaning she was controlling the demon lords. She was the one threatening the Domain. She had fooled them all!

“Astonishing!” Tiger roared. “You prepared a display like this for the wedding?! You’ve made this Tiger cry!”

He seemed to have entirely missed her point.

“—it all…what?” Eug gave him a long, searching look.

Renge joined Nexamic. “My, my, my, my! Eug, you shouldn’t have! I don’t even know how you found out Sir Allan and I were getting hitched—sorry, Anzu—much less had time to prepare entertainment! There’s only one word for it—elegant.”

Anzu took one look at the two of them and sighed. “Neither of you sees anything wrong here? Also, the apology joke got old real fast.”

Even if she wasn’t in a rush to marriage, or even considering the possibility, it would get on your nerves.

But the two dolts just kept gushing.

“Mwa-ha-ha! Tigers symbolized a thousand years, and turtles ten thousand! Perfect for the occasion! Genius, Eug!”

“That’s cranes! Cranes flying!”

“Everyone cranes their heads to see my hamstrings, but what of it?”

“Didn’t need to know! Can you not react the way I want once?!”

The Priest Chief was starting to melt down. “Invaded by turtle monsters? How can I explain that—?”

Immediately evacuating the crowds would be the right choice. He knew that…but he saw himself being accused of lax security, allowing all the cheating, forced to apologize at a press conference, and living out the rest of his life in shame, and…he was desperate to avoid that.

“Nexamic keeps blithering about how these turtles are a good-luck display—mm, wait!”

The absurd mix-up within earshot had given him his second crazy idea.

The people in the crowd were whispering, going, “Are those monsters?”

Then the Priest Chief took the stage, clapping for attention. He cleared his throat, and the voice amplifier squealed. All eyes turned toward him, and he spoke into the magic tool.

“And so! Now! Eug…was it? Whatever! This individual has brought us wedding entertainment! A kind of turtle called a Surtr!”

“Goddammit!” Eug roared, furious her years of research were getting turned into a sideshow.

She raced up to him, protesting vehemently. “Are you completely stupid?! What are you even thinking?!”

But the Priest Chief had his rudder turned toward “cover-up” and was not letting go.

“Yes, it’s gonna be a real spectacle! Reminds me of my second wedding!”

“Good god! Wait, second? Two people married you?!”

Personal history aside, the Priest Chief was hell-bent on convincing everyone this was all part of the plan.

Not giving Allan and Renge a chance to act, he wheeled toward them, yanking them into his deception. “Come, now! Allan! Renge! Let’s see you work together! Take all these turtles out!”

This forceful suggestion didn’t exactly convince Allan that it was even possible.

“They’re supposed to be good luck, but we’ve gotta take ’em out? If this was actually entertainment, why would we be doing that? It’s the demon lord Surtr! If you’re gonna try and cover—”

“Right, who wants a slice of Surtr?”

“They’re not the wedding cake! Who stabs the symbol of longevity? That sounds like it’ll backfire big-time!”

This was hardly standard wedding practice, but Renge herself was super into it.

“Okay, we’re on it, Priest Chief! Come, Sir Allan!”

“Uh…huh? Is this actually working? Is this how people from this Domain think?”

The crowds clearly weren’t panicking yet, so Allan decided he’d better go with the flow.

“All right! Let’s slice up Surtr! Typical Azami fun times! Didn’t think I could do this here! Audience, just relax! My friends from Azami—and the other clans—are gonna strut our stuff!”

Allan, the dragon slayer, a man of many legends.

Moments before, he’d been flinging fire like a demon lord. If he said there was no problem…

“For real? This is part of the show?”

“They got me good!”

“I totally thought they were monsters!”

…The concerns turned into cheers.

“Between the Priest Chief and Allan, bedlam’s been averted. That makes it easier to fight.”

“For once, I’ll give him credit.”

“…Now…we just have to beat them.”

“Yes, let’s trounce these foul…lucky symbols!”

The Audoc and Tiger clans clearly fell for the lie, too, and were cheerfully throwing themselves into combat.

Even with the balance tipping against her, however, Eug remained confident of victory. “What, you’re actually gonna fight? Against demon lords? Your strongest card isn’t even here, so good luck with that!”

“Wait,” Marie said, “you mean Master Alka? What did you do to her?”

“Ha-ha-ha, her too. You haven’t even noticed? Poor girl.”

She was actually talking about Lloyd—she’d sent him into battle against Satan and was assuming he was long since out of commission. Grinning wickedly, she pointed at each of her foes in turn.

“I mean the usual kid! With him gone, you’re really in for it! I bet you’re just waiiiting for him to get here, but…”

“Yo! Who’s missing? Just spit it out already,” Riho snapped.

“Isn’t it obvious?!” Eug yelled. “I’m talking about Lloyd!”

“You called?”

“Why are yooouuu heeeeeeeeeeeeere?!”

Lloyd had popped out of the crowd, hand raised. He must have been standing where Eug couldn’t see him, and his timing was devastating.

“Huhhhhh?! You’re kidding! How?!”

She’d been pretty much screaming all day now. Her throat might not last much longer.

All her confidence was gone, and her arms were thrashing around like she was drowning on dry land.

“This makes no sense. It can’t be,” she muttered, then refocused her unreasonable rage on Lloyd. “You can’t be here! You can’t be in one piece! You should have been wrung out like a rag!”

“Huh? Why?” He just blinked at her, the picture of health.

“Don’t play dumb! You were fighting Satan! What happened to Satan?!”

“I’m right here, Eug!”

“Why are you on their siiiiiiiiiiiiiiide?!”

She had to be tasting blood in her mouth by now.

Like someone who’d just done a string of screamo numbers at karaoke, Eug clutched her throat, swallowing, and then pointed a shaking finger at Satan.

“I—I pretended it was training and had you fight! You were punching the crap out of each other! How are you both uninjured?!”

“I see, so that’s why you— You may be a genius, but you always did take shortcuts,” Satan noted.

Eug was too rattled to read any meaning into that, but she raised her voice again, trying to shake off her fears.

“W-well, you might have Satan, but I’ve got Surtr! Attack! Demon lord clones, make Satan eat his words! You’re the symbol of fire; burn everything!”

At her order, all the turtles opened their mouths, which glowed red—and then balls of intense heat shot out. They were fireballs like molten lava, so strong they gouged the earth, striking fear in the heart of all.

“Yikes, a direct hit would end you!” Anzu spluttered. It was definitely that bad.

Eug saw her shock and laughed, triumphant. “Ah-ha-ha-ha! No way are you defeating a demon lord! Only Surtr himself knows their weak point!”

“Oh, it’s the gem on the belly. Also, if you flip them over, they can’t shoot fire, so…”

“Why is Surtr possessing that aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaax?!”

She was gonna rip her throat right open at this rate.

First Lloyd, then Satan, and now the real Surtr. And the latter was busy explaining how to defeat his clones. Eug felt like a guest on a celebrity-impersonation show surprised when the real one shows up to dis the impression.

“Why does it always turn out like this?!”

Having screamed her way through all steps of a three-part gag, Eug crumpled to her knees.

Satan approached, his expression earnest and concerned—like they were at a reunion, and he’d run into an estranged classmate.

“Luck was not on your side, Eung. If I hadn’t remembered my past, things would not have turned out like this.”

Eug flinched. It had been a long time since she’d heard her real name. “Wha— Seta? You got your memories back?”

“Yeah, thanks to Lloyd. I’ve got the gist, at least.”

Eug wasn’t the only one who reacted to that. The cursed belt—Vritra—seemed to be dragging up distant fragments, too.

“Eung? And Seta?”

“What’s wrong, Vritra?” Selen asked, looking worried.

“Oh, nothing,” he said, covering. “Let’s just…focus on the turtles.”

Pretending everything was normal, he reared up, menacing their foe.

Now then, let us turn our eyes toward the battle in progress.

No need for fear, with plenty of might on their side and the weakness already known—it was like playing with a guidebook in one hand and a fully leveled party. The result was the pride of Eug’s research quickly being reduced to the level of a festive entertainment spectacle.

A one-sided combat demonstration.

“Come, Sir Allan! Eug was nice enough to prepare these turtles for us! Let’s smash them to pieces!”

“Uh, sure… You’re okay with that, Surtr?”

That last half was whispered to the real Surtr in his ax.

“Yep, go right ahead. Sucks I’ve gotta beat up copies of myself and help out the rom-com leads here, but…go on, be happy together. Ha!”

Surtr trailed off in a mocking chuckle, and Allan spluttered a few red-faced objections—it wasn’t like this wedding was his choice.

Oblivious to his crisis, Renge was clinging to his side, enthusiastically swinging her ax.

Each time a Surtr clone came at them, she flipped them as easily as you would takoyaki, showing no trace of the fear demon lords usually engendered. Her ax moves were pretty sweet.

“Come, Sir Allan! Be…elegaaaant!”

“H-how…?”

Once flipped, she smashed their bellies, easily shattering the clones, like she was breaking mirrors. They sprayed fluids and then vanished.

Seeing them dispatched so effortlessly turned the rest of the Audoc and Tiger clans’ positions from a dubious, “Is this a show?” to a confirmed, “Definitely a show.” They all waded into the fray as well.

“I’ll use ice spells for crowd control, Riho. You focus on flipping ’em!”

“Got it, Marie. Take that! Finish ’em, Phyllo!”

“……Mm.”

Smashhhhh. (A Surtr easily shattering.)

“Vritra! Bind that turtle!”

“Yes, Mistress! For you, treant lady.”

“I’m the head of the second year! Micona Zol! And my roots are gonna stab right through that soft underbelly!”

Smashhhhh. (Another Surtr easily shattering.)

“Kyounin clan ultimate technique: Three Door Iai! I’ve stopped them dead in their tracks! See?! I’m not a useless character! Go for it, Tiger Nexamic!”

“For our comrades, Renge and Sir Allan! For our new peace with Anzu! And for my brother Merthophan and his lessons on functional hamstrings! Secret art—Tiger Flip! Go, Brother.”

“Kunlun plowing art: Loincloth Drill! Comrades! Follow meeeee!”

Whirrrrrrr. (A loincloth jauntily spinning.)

Smashhhhh. (A Surtr shattering while looking depressed about the weapon that doomed it.)

A veritable smorgasbord of approaches, but the clones were quickly going down.

Eug had worked hard on them and been proud of her work. Seeing them get mowed down like cardboard made her feel like a husband whose wife threw out the robot model he’d been so proud of the day after he finished it.

“Y-you’ve gotta be kidding me… All the weapons I made…so easily? And what the heck is a Loincloth Drill?!”

“It’s what it sounds like! Best way to handle rocks when clearing new land!”

“I wasn’t actually asking, asshole!”

“Eung,” Satan said, “I don’t know what’s happened to you over the years, but letting your emotions get the better of you has always been your biggest flaw.”

Having a colleague she’d always looked down on make sound points just poured fuel on her fire. She gritted her teeth, then roared, “Don’t act like you know me! You can’t know what it’s like! Every second I spend in this world is a living reminder of my failure to stop the world’s collapse!”

“Eung, that isn’t—”

“I’m done holding back! I’ve got one more card—demon lord Surtr’s second form!”

Eug took the sucker out of her mouth and threw it at the one remaining clone.

Her “suckers” were actually batteries; she lacked innate powerful magic, so she had to charge them with power over time. When the sucker struck the turtle’s shell, it shattered, releasing a powerful glow.

The Surtr clone doubled in size, then tripled. The shell bulked up, a red glowing dent in the top…like a volcanic crater.

It was over a dozen yards wide now—far too big for any ordinary human to flip. And it was clearly poised to unleash a devastating attack.

Everyone had been cheerfully cracking shells, but this gave them pause.

“Can you flip this massive bulk without injury to life and limb? Can you still call this a sideshow? A demonstration?”

As if on cue, an absolute deluge of fireballs shot out of its back.

“Hark! I can hear my hoe calling! ‘Danger! Great danger!’ Everyone, fall back!”

The blade of Merthophan’s hoe was actually an artifact called the Tablet of Destinies, and it had a danger-detection function that the loincloth man relayed to those around him.

“Why is a hoe talking to you?! Augh!” Riho grumbled, but they’d all leaped back—and the ground at their feet turned into a sea of flame.

“Look out, Mistress! Ow! Hot, hot, hot!”

Selen barely managed to block a fireball with her belt, but the fire was so strong, even Vritra was acting like an old man sipping hot soup.

“Are you okay, Vritra? You sound like an old man sipping hot soup!”

“I-I’m fine, Mistress! This is no worse than the time I accidentally set the bath temperature to a hundred and twenty degrees!”

“What on earth are you talking about? That would scald you!”

Marie and Riho, meanwhile, were throwing ice magic around, trying to keep the flames from causing any serious structural damage.

“Dammit! This is far worse! Any ideas, Marie?”

“Argh, where’s that kid grandma when you need her?”

The Azami ranks were crumbling, and Eug got her toothy grin back.

“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! That’s the payback I wanted! Serves you right!”

She seemed to have forgotten her original goals entirely. Her thirst for revenge was clearly far more important than capturing the Sacred Beast.

“Ack, Eung… She was always like this! Pursuing the hedonistic pleasures before her, no matter how foolish that might be. How I suffered as her director… Hot, hot!”

“Vritra? What are you talking about?” Selen was getting rather worried about her belt’s state of mind.

Eug was giving them a nasty scowl. “Director Ishikura…don’t you start remembering stuff, too! I don’t need any more thorns in my side. Once this is over, I’ll stick you and Satan and Surtr inside some Mastema. That’ll weaken Alka, too.”

But not everyone was letting the situation get them down.

“Magnificent, Eug! It would never do to have the entertainment be that weak. My Tiger Hamstrings flex in awe!”

“The precise level of elegance I required for the grand finale of our first team battle! Splendid!”

“Both of you really oughtta be more afraid…”

Neither of them seemed to be able to get past the idea that Eug was nice.

Meanwhile, Surtr’s onslaught was only heating up. The giant turtle wasn’t exactly nimble, but the fire shooting from its mouth and back was enough to smart the skin of the audience in the distant stands.

Trying to avoid further damage to the crowd, Marie and Riho were building a wall of ice. The audience thought it was all part of the show and were still cheering.

“Sure, laugh away. You’ve got no clue how hard this is,” Marie muttered.

“Yo,” Riho wailed. “Ice can only do so much here! I’m running low on magic, too! We’re gonna need another plan!”

Still working on the wall, she scanned her friend’s face, hoping someone had an idea.

“They still think it’s a show for now, but if the stands catch fire—they’ll panic instantly. And the stampede will almost certainly result in death,” Marie said grimly, clearly picturing the worst.

“Marie, you know I’d love to help! But treants and fire are a lousy mix!”

“Hngg, we’re reaching the limits of my loincloth’s power! The butt strap is ready to snap!”

Allan’s possessed ax seemed ready to give up, too. “Yikes, in my second form, it’s almost impossible to flip me—I impress myself sometimes!”

Possibly a bit conceited. Guarding the crowds, Satan scolded him for it.

“Hey! Don’t flatter yourself! Only thing worse than a virgin is a narcissistic one! They’re your clones, man; do something! I’ve got my hands full guarding the crowd!”

“Oh, shut up! I’m busy myself! And you’re also a virgin!”

Now matter how sad the barbs, they were not leading to a solution.

“Arghh, what a mess! But it spells victory. Suck on that, assholes.”

The more their spirits flagged, the broader Eug’s grin grew, until…

“Then I guess I’ll have to step in!”

“Wh-what?!”

A single line destroyed her confidence.

She’d never heard Lloyd sound so sure of himself.

“Lloyd?” Marie asked, concerned.

He just grinned back at her. “The move I learned training with Satan can easily topple this big turtle! Oh, and, Eug!”

“Y-yes, Lloyd?” she stammered, not expecting him to address her directly.

And of all things…he bowed to her. “Thank you so much!”

“Where did that come from?!”

Anyone would be astounded by entirely undeserved gratitude.

Lloyd totally missed her shock, simply explaining his point of view. “I thought I recognized your voice, but when I saw the turtles, I knew! You’re the amazing lady in the robe who introduced me to Satan!”

“Uhh…?”

Renge and Nexamic joined in, singing Eug’s praises.

“You get it, Lloyd! She’s an elegant genius and has done so much for us!”

“She can be a little prickly, but that adds to the charm! We must pump iron together later!”

That just made Lloyd respect her even more. “So you really are a great person, Eug!”

“I am not! I’ve got no charm! I’m prickly all the time!”

“Now, now,” Lloyd said, blowing right through her protests. “I thought it was strange! This sudden wedding, then monsters for entertainment—but this is actually a way to train everyone, isn’t it? You really had me going.”

“Lloyd, the marriage is real. Elegantly real.” Renge hit those reals extremely hard.

“Oh, was it? Sorry, it was all so sudden. Congrats again!”

“Thanks. Love and weddings catch us all by surprise! Don’t they, Sir Allan?”

Allan’s expression could not have disagreed more, but Renge had a tight grip on the ax with Surtr in it, so he couldn’t say more. She had him wrapped around her finger already.

Their display of “domestic bliss” just sent Lloyd deeper in.

“And you prepared all these monsters as a final touch to my training! Right, Satan?”

Satan looked at him like he was crazy, but then an idea hit him. “R-right, Lloyd! Eung prepared this for you! A chance to demonstrate the results of your hard work!”

He totally twisted it to his advantage.

“What the heck, Seta?!” Eug roared. “What are you even talking about?!”

“It’s your final test! Use that ultimate move! Relax…and give it everything you’ve got!”

Lloyd nodded happily.

One slip, and lives were on the line. Normally, that would be enough to make Lloyd shrivel up completely, but certain it was just a test, he could dive in without fear.

“It’s a real trial by fire, but I think I can pull it off! Allan, Renge, consider this my blessing! And, Eug—I’ll live up to your expectations!”

“I don’t have any!”

Lloyd’s friends were pretty used to Lloyd’s logical leaps, and this was not even one of the bigger ones.

“You learned this new move for everyone!” Satan yelled. “Now’s your chance! Follow me!”

“Okay! I’ll do my best!” Satan slapped his hands on the grounds and extended his own shadow, trapping Surtr’s second form in place. “I can’t hold it for long, Lloyd! Give it your full strength! Become the wind!”

“Got it! Wind Cloak! Combined with the rainfall rune!” Lloyd raced round Surtr’s second form, fast as the wind.

This alone was no different from before…but the air in his wake was moist.

“I-is this…?” Marie looked again and saw Lloyd wreathed in rain clouds, leaping this way and that.

The clouds in his wake grew bigger, and a damp wind began to blow.

“That’s the rainfall rune…Lloyd’s specialty. But this is beyond rain—it’s a storm.”

“Exactly, young witch!” Satan bellowed. “Low pressure…followed by a sudden rise!”

Satan threw both arms up dramatically, like an orchestra conductor. At his signal, Lloyd cast Aero, hurtling skyward, toward the clouds above.

Surtr’s massive bulk was sucked upward after him.

The change in air pressure made their ears ache and their heads hurt—a cyclone descending directly at him…and the giant levitating turtle was turned upside down.

“It’s too big to float!” Eug wailed. “Th-this isn’t real! Lloyd’s never had this kind of technical confidence! I know him! He’s the outcast of Kunlun! Stronger than any regular human, sure! But not capable of feats like this! He’s ordinary!”

Satan grinned, like any teacher proud of their student’s growth. “All your doing, Eung.”

“M-my doing?!”

“You put me and Lloyd together. And like you—he’s a genius.”

“Huh?!” Eug’s face was a sight to behold.

“He works hard…and works hard to make sure that hard work isn’t in vain! What he lacks in technique and confidence, he makes up for with effort! The kind of genius who can come face-to-face with real brilliance—and not be discouraged. Remind you of anyone?”

She looked at Lloyd again, neither smiling nor angry.

Surrounded by superhumans in Kunlun, mocked for being the weakest kid around…he’d fought hard, trying to keep up. Just like she’d gritted her teeth and clung on for dear life when she first met Alka, he was a real genius.

“The same breed, huh…?” she muttered.

“That’s it, Lloyd!” Satan yelled. “Now just hit it in the belly! With the storm around you—with Tempest Cloak!”

“Okay! This is my ultimate move—Tempest Cloak!”

With a concentrated storm wreathed around him, Lloyd rocketed toward Surtr.

Rain, wind, lightning, and compressed air. All focused together into a bullet that pierced Surtr’s belly, far above the stage.

As everyone stared upward, the shell cracked…and lava spewed out of Surtr. Fooooosh.

For a moment, he sprayed molten rock, like blood from gaping wounds, then exploded like a firework, the winds sweeping the sparks away.

The spectacle was so outlandish, the audience didn’t even react. His friends knew how powerful Lloyd was, but this left them gaping, too.

“That boy’s something else, huh?” Satan breathed, nodding.

Lloyd landed before them, looking deeply satisfied. His ultimate move had worked.

“How was that, Satan?”

“Amazing! You nailed it!”

They high-fived.

A moment later, the crowd caught up. Convinced this was all part of the show, they erupted in cheers. “““What an incredible performance!”””

Obviously, nobody could do that for real. Wrapping yourself in storm clouds to punch an enemy? Puh-lease.

“That’s Lloyd for you… Something wrong, Surtr?”

“……Mm.” Surtr was being oddly quiet.

“I guess nobody wants to see themselves get pulverized, but…don’t take it too hard, man.”

That wasn’t why he’d gone silent.

“The rainfall rune…”

“Oh, that? Lloyd’s mentioned it before, but… Whoa, what?”

Surtr was possessing an ax, so tears were out of the question, but those noises definitely sounded like sobs.

“My research, complete…completed! Thank goodness. Now my home…I can save it from the eruptions! My…my home? I’m…”

This sounded significant, but Surtr wasn’t the only one in tears.

“Hah…huh?!” Eug might have tears streaming down her face, but her brain had definitely given up on speech.

Lloyd came over to her, looking very earnest. “Eug, thank you so much for providing this chance for me to demonstrate the results of my training, and celebrate Allan and Renge’s wedding.”

“I didn’t, you twit! And are you seriously going to follow this with a wedding?!”

“Yeah…you can say that again! Only sensible person here.”

Allan looked ready to cry into his tuxedo sleeve. For the first time, he was entirely on Eug’s side.

“Aha!” Lloyd cried, beaming at her. “That reaction! That body language! I knew you were her! You can’t fool me!”

He seemed very proud of himself. Laughing, he began peppering her with questions. Mad respect in his eyes. That specific tightness that comes when someone you feared turns out to be cool.

“How long have you known Satan? What’s the secret to becoming friends with monsters?”

“For someone so clueless, you’ve figured that out? How?!”

“It’s true Eung and I go way back, but the rest…”

Unsure how to handle Lloyd’s unstoppable side, Satan looked to Eug for help…and found her beyond language, her mouth flapping like a goldfish.

“That was such a great show! I’m sure Allan and Renge were delighted.”

Renge was smiling and nodding, and Allan was looking grim and shaking his head.

“And thank you for making me stronger! I’m glad you’re a good person. I know you and the chief had that falling-out, but…what do you say? If you wanna make up, I’m happy to come apologize with you!”

This finally broke through her stupor.

“Sh-shut up, nitwit!” Eug snapped. “Seta! How is this like me? This is totally ‘happy accident’! Make up with Alka? If only it were that easy! Don’t make me hurt you!”

“Who’s the nitwit now, Eug?” Riho snarled. “You’re outta demon lords; there’s nothing you can do!”

The rest of the Azami contingent were lined up behind her.

Eug realized her predicament. And her lack of options.

“Tch, they took out all Surtr’s clones, and I’m in deep… I’d better run for it!”

Satan quickly blocked her escape route. “Whoa, can’t have you fleeing the scene! I’ve got questions for you. How’d the world end up like this? What happened that day—?”

Before Satan could ask anything else…a small meteor fell from the sky, aimed right at him.

Thunk!

“Oof!” With a very silly noise, Satan and the meteor wound up buried in the ground.

And Alka came in for a landing.

“I saw a sudden storm and wondered what was up—you’re back to life, Satan?! Your luck ran out the moment I headed this way! Give it up, fool!”

“N-no, I—”

“No denials! I’ve heard all the lies—”

Marie grabbed Alka before she could summon another meteor. “Ack, Master, he—he may not be human, but he’s on our side.”

“Huh? What, Marie? Why are you here? Never mind that! Who’s responsible for—?”

All eyes turned toward…

“It won’t end like this next time! I’m not making up with you, asshole!”

With Satan out of her way, Eug had opened a warp gate and was about to leap through it.

“E-Eug! Drat! She’s getting away! Who let that happen?!”

“You did.”

Marie had rarely sounded so annoyed, and Alka looked up at her in horror.

“………So this is my fault?”

“…Yes,” Phyllo hissed. Alka recoiled like she’d been punched.

“No, no, no, there was a demon lord here! Why wouldn’t I assume he was the bad guy?! It’s his fault! He must be executed! Fetch the guillotine!”

“You can’t force reality to suit your needs!”

She’d grabbed Satan by his collar and was pulling him out of the ground, ready to behead him.

Dirt literally on his face, he was doing his best to get through to her. “Wait, wait! Alka! It’s me, Seta!”

“Seta…wh-what?”

Then Surtr—the one in Allan’s ax—spoke up. “I remember! I remember now, Seta! Yo! You haven’t forgotten me, right?”

“Oh, I remember that obnoxious voice all right. Much as I wish I didn’t.”

“Oh, Jesus! I could say the same. You all remember me? It’s ya boy, Tony! The lovely tubby guy!”

At this, Alka finally caught on. “Oh, the fat douche.”

No minced words, there. Surtr grunted. “Soften the blow! Argh, I blame the spiky-haired jerk over there! I oughtta set that dumb hairstyle on fire.”

“Don’t be absurd, Tony. I gave her a present, and you roll in the next day with Dom Pérignon! Just as her heart was leaning my way—all my efforts, dashed!”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit, you goddamn nerd! She was in love with me! When I bought the Dom Pérignon, she said it was love!”

“Like hell it was! And you’re a bigger nerd than me!”

This storm of unfamiliar jargon meant those around them had missed the moment to stop the argument from escalating.

“……If you two don’t hold your tongues now, you’ll be forced to write a formal letter of apology!” Vritra’s voice snapped like a whip. The buckle of the belt snaked in between them, glaring at each in turn.

Both demon lords twitched—recognizing the gesture.

“Th-that’s gotta be…”

“No—for real? Director Ishikura?”

“…Been a while since I heard that name.”

Vritra turned toward Alka. “You’ve changed a lot, Alka—Akizuki. You knew who I was all along?”

“Urp.” This time, she reeled like she’d taken one right to the solar plexus.

Vritra shook the end of the belt like a head. “I assume the matter of my daughter gave you pause. Honestly…gah!”

“What are you talking about, Vritra? And the rest of you! It’s time for the closing ceremony!”

For a brief moment, things had turned very serious…but Selen was a master of ignoring the mood and unwittingly let Alka off the hook. She looked extremely relieved.

Meanwhile, Satan was scratching his head. “Who knew he’d be so whipped?”

“No, his daughter always had his number. And you’re still doing that head scratch, even as a demon lord?”

Satan realized his fingers were all the way inside his hairdo and winced.

“Well, now that I’ve got my old memories, yeah. But, Alka—what brought you here?”

“Oh, right! I came to see Lloyd and, while I was at it, see if I could make the Sacred Beast into a new Kunlun guardian…but what’s been happening here? I know you’re notoriously lousy with explanations, but…try.”

Seta made a face but felt he owed her that much. “I’ve got a lot of questions myself, but…we should at least stay quiet until the ceremony’s over.”

He looked over at Lloyd, still beaming with pride over his victory.

“Let me savor my student’s growth, Alka,” he said, beaming.