3

The very back of the secondary formation of the Dark Territory troops sat about five hundred mels from the ravine, where the fighting was pitched. On the second level of a deluxe four-wheeled carriage (if still inferior to Emperor Vecta’s tank) stood a tall woman, arms crossed, with plenty of bare skin showing. It was one of the dark lords, the chancellor of the dark mages guild, Dee Eye Ell.

A messenger mage dressed in black looked up at her master from the side and reported, “Sigurosig, Shibori, and Kosogi have been struck down.”

Dee’s lips instantly twisted with scorn. “Useless vermin…I shouldn’t have expected a nonhuman to do anything right.”

She looked down at the necklace charm draped over the skin of her ample breasts. The silver circle with twelve precious stones set around it was a special Divine Object that told time by the changing color of the stones. The six o’clock stone glowed orange, but the seven o’clock stone was still dark. That meant that only about twenty minutes had passed since the start of the hostilities at six o’clock.

“Have you located the Integrity Knights?” she snapped, clearly irritated. The messenger mage uttered a quick command and waited to hear the response of her counterpart lurking somewhere on the battlefield.

“Three sighted on the front line have been targeted. Two others in the rear have been sighted, but their locations are not quite ready.”

“Still only five? Perhaps that is all the number they have,” Dee snarled to herself, a far cry from the coquettish display she put on in the presence of the emperor. “In either case, we must eliminate those five without fail…”

She thought it over, then ordered, “Send in the minions. My command is…” She narrowed her eyes, judging the distance to the crumbled gate and the battlefield near it. “Fly seven hundred mels, descend to the ground, and lay waste to the enemy.”

“At that distance, the nonhuman troops fighting at the front will get caught up in the attack.”

“No matter,” she replied, unbothered.

The messenger showed no emotion of her own as she nodded her understanding, then asked, “And what number, my lady? All eight hundred currently hatched are at your disposal.”

“Let’s see…”

Dee considered the question. Minions required considerable resources and time to generate, and they were a far more valuable tool to her than the goblin soldiers. She wished she could be sparing with them, but if her plan to wipe out the enemy’s main force with a concentrated dark-arts barrage from a distance failed to do the job, the emperor would be very displeased with her.

“…All eight hundred,” she ordered, a cruel smile on her lips.

Dee’s secret ambition was to help Dark God Vecta triumph in this battle so he could capture the so-called Priestess of Light and return to the depths of the earth—and then gain the emperor’s mantle from him and rule the entire Underworld in the aftermath.

On the day she became empress of the world, she could make thousands upon thousands of minions. Her greatest obstacle, General Shasta, was dead now, and the only power players after him were the merchant who only had interest in money and the pugilist who only had interest in fighting. Ultimate success was nearly at her doorstep.

Once Dee had conquered the entire world, which even the half-god Administrator couldn’t do, she would gain the sacred art of everlasting life that was supposedly hidden in the headquarters of the Axiom Church.

Immortality. Eternal youth.

Sweet chills of pleasure ran up Dee’s spine at the thought. A red tongue licked over her blue-painted lips.

Just then, the messenger mage’s orders reached the brigade of dark mages at the front, and the man-made black monsters took flight all at once, like darkness itself gaining wings. Eight hundred minions rose on command, campfire light reflecting off their shining skin, and flew right for the ravine.

Here they come.

Commander Bercouli’s lips, which had been closed as tightly as a statue’s since the battle had begun, finally split into a wide grin. He sensed that a large number of flying enemy troops were entering the boundaries of his Perfect Weapon Control power, which he was maintaining in the air over the gate.

These were not dragons bearing dark knights. They were soulless minions, cold as clay.

But he did not activate the art yet. There were plenty more of them yet to be drawn within his giant web of cuts before they were all there.

Bercouli’s finely honed senses already told him about the valiant efforts of Fanatio and Deusolbert—and even of Renly’s initial escape and subsequent awakening into his power. If they had struck down three of the invading army’s advance-line generals, there was no danger of the front line being pushed back upon them at this point.

If they could simply have Alice, waiting high above, use all the resources acquired thus far to nullify the enemy’s long-distance sacred arts as planned, then the unharmed Second Regiment of the guardian army would be free to fight with the enemy’s main force, which was made up of dark knights and pugilists.

He suspected that his own true part to play would come after that. And not in a one-on-one fight against his rival, Dark General Shasta.

Bercouli was already aware that Shasta’s presence was gone from the enemy’s camp. Most likely, the snuffing out of the great presence in the far east several days ago had been the final moment of that worthy warrior’s life.

As the eldest of the Integrity Knights, Bercouli had lived countless months and years, and he no longer mourned the death of those whose lives met their natural end. But the death of Shasta brought him nothing but bitter disappointment—he was a man who Bercouli had once hoped would one day help draw the land of darkness and the human realm into a peaceful coexistence free of bloodshed.

Now the one out there who’d ended Shasta’s life, the owner of that vast, freezing emptiness—whoever he was—likely commanded the entire army of the Dark Territory, and only by cutting that foe down could Bercouli properly mourn his rival.

Or perhaps it would finally be the end of his own life, he sensed. But there was no longer even a shred of him that still clung to living on. If the time had finally come for him to die, then so be it.

When Fanatio’s lower knight unleashed her Incarnate power in that final desperate moment, Bercouli was both impressed and even a little jealous. But of course, now was not that time for him. At last, the swarm of minions that tore through the darkness overhead was entirely contained within the prison of his sword’s slashes.

Bercouli’s eyes flashed, and he slowly, easily lifted the Time-Splitting Sword from its resting point, with the tip against the ground, to an overhead position.

“…Slice!!”

His cry cut forth, a naked blade through the void.

At the same time, in the air up ahead, a multitude of white lines formed a three-dimensional lattice pattern and flashed brightly. There was a great chorus of screeching death wails, and filthy black blood poured down on the nonhuman enemy army in torrents. Minion blood was mildly poisonous, and it only brought further chaos to the troops that were already without their commanding officers.

The messenger mage, who had been utterly emotionless the entire time, now let a faint note of fear creep into her voice, giving Dee an ill premonition. That feeling quickly became reality in just a single second.

“My lady, I am afraid…that all eight hundred minions have been eliminated just before they were set to descend.”

“Wha—?”

Silence.

A crystal goblet screamed its last as it shattered against the carriage floor.

“But how?! No one told me of any large mage division among the enemy!”

And more importantly, it was nearly impossible to dispatch eight hundred minions with an art command alone. Because they were made mostly of clay, they were highly resistant to burning and freezing. Sharp-bladed attacks were the most effective counter, but the minions were still in the air, far from the soldiers on the ground.

“…And the enemy dragons have not yet made an appearance?” Dee asked, finally controlling her anger somewhat.

The messenger mage hung her head. “Correct. Not a single dragon has been confirmed in the air over the battlefield from the start until now.”

“Which would make this…that special bit of Integrity Knight trickery…Perfect Weapon Control arts. But…can they truly have this much…?”

She swallowed the final word of the sentence and let her bared fangs gnash with frustration.

Like Dark General Shasta, Dee had attempted to collect information on the secret technique of the Integrity Knights. But it had been nearly impossible to witness it in action for herself. The only thing she had unveiled was that it combined and amplified the power of the Divine Object and of the knight him- or herself.

“But using the weapon that way should devour a great amount of life. It cannot be utilized in such rapid sequence…,” she muttered, her mind racing.

Then the messenger mage, who had been listening to reports from the front, shot upward and said in a voice slightly more composed, “Chancellor, location of two rear Integrity Knights has been found. Identifying all five knights’ targets.”

“…Good,” Dee said, pondering. Should she send in the dark knights and pugilists, who made up the bulk of the Second Army, to force the Integrity Knights to consume more of their Perfect Weapon Control power, the greatest unknown variable on the other side? Or should she use the dark mages guild, her best weapon, and try to finish it all right now?

Dee was normally a very cautious person who plotted obsessively and removed all room for doubt or concern before she finally acted. But the instantaneous destruction of her eight hundred precious minions left her at a loss and filled her with a panic and haste that she wasn’t aware she was feeling.

She filled a new crystal glass with more dark-purple liquid and told herself, I am calm.

This is the moment when I seize my first true glory.

Dee Eye Ell downed the drink in one go, then held the glass high and commanded, “Ogre archers, dark mages, advance! Proceed into the ravine, then begin preparing the cast of the wide-range incineration projectiles!!”

“Krururu…,” crooned a lonely voice. Amayori was concerned about its master.

Alice the Integrity Knight managed her best attempt at a smile and whispered, “It’s all right. Don’t be worried.”

But as a matter of fact, she was not all right at all. Her vision was strangely warped, her breathing ragged, and her limbs felt as cold as ice. She might pass out at any moment.

It was not the massive sacred art that Alice had been weaving since before the fighting started—and that even now placed so much pressure on her insides that she felt as if she might explode—that had her so fatigued.

It was the source of the sacred power that the art itself was consuming: all those deaths.

Knights. Guards. Priests. And the enemies: goblins, orcs, giants. So many lives being lost at such an astounding speed—and the fear, sadness, and despair they felt in those final moments all plagued Alice without end.

The old Alice would never have paid any heed to the lives or deaths of the common people of the Human Empire, much less of any who lived in the Dark Territory.

Through half a year of living in Rulid, she understood the divinity of the humble lives of the villagers and realized that it was worth protecting, but she did not find herself caring about the lives of those who dwelled in the dark world. In fact, when the goblins and orcs had attacked Rulid just ten days ago, Alice had slaughtered them without hesitation.

The forces of darkness were pillagers without mercy or compassion and ought to be killed to the very last one, she had always believed without a shred of doubt, until the mission Bercouli had given her.

To her shock…

…the sacred power that arose from the spilled lives of the soldiers on either side of the battlefield below, whether human or nonhuman, was of the exact same nature. They were all warm and vivid and pure, and it was absolutely impossible for her to distinguish which side either of these souls fought on.

At first it shook Alice to her core. But if the people of the human realm and the monsters of the Dark Territory had, in essence, the same souls and differed only in which side of the mountains they were born on…

…then why were they fighting in the first place? Why are we fighting in the first place?

“…Kirito. If you are still alive and well…”

You might have found another way, she did not say aloud. She had to focus on the sacred art she was still preparing.

At the military council before the battle, Alice had expressed her reservations to Vice Commander Fanatio. Who would actually perform such a massive sacred art that it would devour all the spatial resources that existed within the battlefield—narrow for a ravine but a vast space nonetheless?

Fanatio looked Alice right in the eyes and said, It is you, Alice Synthesis Thirty. You might not realize it yet, but your present power surpasses the bounds of the Integrity Knight itself. I believe that you are capable of true godly power that splits the heavens and tears the earth asunder.

At the time, she thought it was an exaggeration, a misunderstanding. But she also felt, in that moment, that it was a duty she needed to give her own life to fulfill, if need be. It was her responsibility, for having turned her sword on the pontifex and shaken the Axiom Church’s very power structure.

She stopped thinking about this and tried to focus on nothing but gathering the necessary sacred power and converting it to the sacred words that would further weave the great art.

But the screams never stopped echoing across the ravine, and Alice could not prevent them from affecting her.

They were dying. Someone’s father or brother or sister or child.

…Hurry, a voice said from deep within her consciousness.

If only that moment would come even a second sooner. The moment that would invite many times more death, all in one awful instance, to bring this entire atrocity to an end that much sooner…

The nonhuman first wave of the invading army, consisting of mountain goblins, flatland goblins, and giants, was holding fast just one tiny step short of absolute defeat.

The three leaders had died in battle. That meant the knights commanding the enemy force were stronger than any individual among the nonhuman division. And the one rule carved into the souls of the Dark Territory’s inhabitants was “the one who is mightiest rules.”

If this had been a fight between demi-humans, all of the soldiers would have surrendered completely the moment that their commanders had been struck down. The only thing preventing that outcome now was the existence of Emperor Vecta, the god of darkness, who stepped onto the soil of the Dark Territory in person. The emperor was stronger than any of the ten lords, and it had not yet been determined whether he or the knights of the human realm were stronger.

So they had to stay fixated on their original orders and fight desperately against the guardian army, which was growing bolder with rising morale. The few minutes this ill-fated conflict bought allowed the Dark Territory’s secret long-range weapon—the ogre archers and Dee’s dark mage brigade—to move into position just short of the collapsed gate.

The plan called for the three thousand ogres to ready their huge war bows in the front, with the three thousand dark mages chanting their attack arts from the rear. It would be not ogre chief Furgr who took overall command but an archmage who also served as Dee’s associate.

This mage listened for the orders from the rear and then shouted, “Ogres, prepare to loose greatbows! Mages, begin chanting the command for the wide-range incineration projectiles!! Spotters, begin chanting the command to guide projectiles toward the location of the enemy Integrity Knights!!”

The “wide-range incineration projectiles” were a large-scale eradication art that Dee Eye Ell had designed specifically for this battle. It involved converting all the spatial dark power filling the battlefield into heat elements that could be transferred to the ogres’ arrows for extra-long-range attacks.

Because transforming commands like Bird Shape and Arrow Shape did not consume extra dark power, their potency upon landing should be nearly unfathomable. These were the kinds of unprecedented attack arts that were possible only now and not during the Age of Blood and Iron, because all the races were united under Emperor Vecta’s rule.

Dee also ordered mages skilled in wielding wind elements to serve as spotters keeping track of the Integrity Knights on the other side. They would set up a “wind path” that would allow for precise aiming at those distant targets. If all of the incineration projectiles landed in one spot, it would result in an ultra-high-priority attack that even the great Administrator would not have been able to defend against without coming to severe harm.

It was that very use of the crude power of numbers to triumph over the power of a great individual that Cardinal the little sage had been so worried about.

Amayori gurgled again. However, this time it was not a worried croon but a sharper sound, wary and full of warning.

Alice summoned her wits, whipping her dazed mind back into shape, and gazed through the darkness to the far distance ahead.

Here they come!!

Beyond the nonhuman enemies, which still fought with the guardian army below, a new army was approaching with care. She did not see the glint of any metallic armor. This would likely be a long-range regiment—the dark mages guild of the Dark Territory.

They were the ones Bercouli was most careful about, the ones with the potential power to wipe out the entire Human Guardian Army. But the same could be said about Alice herself.

The genesis of the large-scale sacred art she had been preparing this entire time had been an idea from the fight between Vice Commander Fanatio and Kirito, as it was told to others. It might as well be called a “reflective cohesion beam” art.

Using the spatial sacred power released by the countless lives that had been lost in this battle, Alice first generated an enormous glass ball measuring three mels across by transforming crystal elements.

Next, she built a thick silver film out of steel elements and covered the entirety of the glass sphere with it. This created a “locked mirror,” as she thought of it. The sphere was kept in a little hollow in Amayori’s back, right between its wings. Alice kept her hands pressed to it, locking in the light elements that she continually created with the endless flow of spatial power.

Maintaining elements was a basic but incredibly powerful technique that had tormented greater-arts wielders for generations.

If you didn’t keep your focus on whatever flame or ice or wind element you generated, the orbs would float freely, eventually expending the heat or chill they contained, and vanish. The upper limit of elements that could be simultaneously maintained was locked to the number of “terminals” the caster could use—meaning the number of fingers on their hands.

Prime Senator Chudelkin had utilized his unique body type to do a headstand that allowed him to use his toes as output points as well, so he could maintain twenty elements at once. And through some technique known only to her, Administrator had turned her own silver hair into endings, enabling her to maintain over a hundred elements all at once.

But Alice could mimic neither of these things. And neither ten nor a hundred were even close to enough in this situation. The enemy’s dark mages guild boasted three thousand members; assuming each one averaged five elements at once, that meant there would likely be over fifteen thousand in total.

So Alice had tried to come up with a method that would allow her to save the elements she generated, even after letting them drift away from her mind’s control. The first idea she’d had was some kind of container. The problem was that the heat and ice elements used in typical attack arts simply affected the temperature of whatever they touched, and then they disappeared.

But in the fight on the fiftieth floor of Central Cathedral, Kirito had used a mirror he’d fashioned from a few steel elements and crystal elements to reflect the light of Fanatio’s Heaven-Piercing Blade. When Alice heard that story, she had a flash of inspiration.

If light simply reflected off a mirror, rather than affecting it in any way, and if she could create a mirror that was perfectly closed with no exits and she could generate light elements inside it…

…theoretically, until the life of the mirror itself ran out, she could maintain an infinite number of light elements inside it.

The mighty ogres pulled their great creaking bowstrings and pointed them at the dark sky. Three thousand dark mages raised their hands high, uttering the command that would infuse the rows of gleaming, pointed arrowheads with the power of flame.

“““System Call!!”””

It was a chorus of death, delivered exclusively by female voices. Intoxicated by the sheer size of the power they were channeling, the many mages continued in tandem with “““Generate Thermal Element!!”””

Long, slender fingers blinked with faint red points—but the color promptly dimmed and snuffed out with tiny puffs of smoke.

The archmage in command of the brigade could not tell what had just happened at first, and she issued the same command again. But the results were the same, to her bafflement.

Then her mages, taken aback, began to shout, “I can’t generate the flame elements!”

“It’s not going to be possible to execute the wide-range-incineration-projectile art like this!”

She looked around for the source of the phenomenon and heard the aide murmur into her ear, “Ar-Archmage…I think that the spatial dark power might be entirely spent…”

“Th-that cannot be true!!” the commanding officer shouted. Her left hand, knotted with rings, pointed to the front line far in the distance. “Don’t you hear the screams?! Everyone is dying there—humans and nonhumans alike! Where could all those lives be going, then?!”

Nobody could answer her question. The ogres were irritated that the order to shoot their arrows was not forthcoming, but they held their strings regardless.

The time had come.

Alice closed her eyes briefly and prayed.

She would accept upon her own shoulders the sin of taking countless lives for the sake of just one.

The silver sphere three mels across resting on Amayori’s powerful back was as packed and pressured as it could be on the inside. She pulled her hands off the surface and drew her sword.

“Bloom, my flowers! Enhance Armament!” she called, splitting the Osmanthus Blade into countless tiny pieces, a golden swarm that she could control. “Lower your head, Amayori!”

The dragon obeyed, inclining its body forward. The silver ball rolled silently forth, and by the time it had rotated one full time, it passed the dragon’s head and plunged into the void. The little swarm formed by Alice’s weapon carefully caught it, cradling the ball and adjusting it so that a particular spot on its surface pointed forward and down.

Aim…steady.

She inhaled until her lungs were full, and she whispered, “…Burst Element.”

It was such a short and simple activation for a sacred art that contained such tremendous power.

The silver sphere was fashioned to be thinner in just one spot. The searing luminosity and heat of unlimited light elements focused on that point, melting the layers of silver and glass until they were bright red…

Pow! It burst forth into the outer world.

Fanatio stood in mute shock as she looked up from the surface of the earth at a light beam whose power was thousands of times more potent than what the Heaven-Piercing Blade could create with Perfect Weapon Control.

The other knights and guards simply quaked in fear of what they believed to be the power of Solus herself.

A pillar of light five mels across descended from the sky to the earth at ultra-high speed, plunging into the midst of the demi-human soldiers. Then it changed directions, caressing the ground as it continued farther through the ravine.

With the roar of thousands of bells ringing all at once, waves of heat and light billowed throughout the entire breadth of the ravine. Then the space erupted into a pillar of fire nearly as tall as the End Mountains themselves, lighting the entire night sky red.

When she first saw the incredibly vast explosion, so close she could nearly touch it, Dee Eye Ell smiled, thinking that it was the result of her own strategic masterpiece. But shortly after, the smile vanished from her face as the torrid heat exploded out of the ravine and toward her four-wheeled carriage.

The searing wind brought with it the dying screams of all the nonhumans and the dark mages she had worked so hard to raise into a proud combat force.

She stood still with shock as the messenger mage rasped, “Due to an unidentified drought of spatial dark power, our wide-range incineration projectiles failed to generate…then a large-scale attack of unknown detail issued by the enemy eradicated ninety percent of the nonhuman battalion, seventy percent of the ogre archers, and over…thirty percent of the dark mage battalion…”

“An unidentified drought…?!” Dee raged, trembling at last with the anger bubbling up inside her. “The cause is clear! That monstrous spell on the other side devoured every last bit of magical power in the ravine!! But…it’s impossible! Even I could not execute such an art…Not even the late pontifex could do such a thing!! Whose work was this?!”

But none of her screaming earned her the answer to that question. How would she salvage this quandary—and more importantly, how would she report this to Emperor Vecta? Dee Eye Ell was considered to have the sharpest mind in the dark realm, but all she could do now was breathe, rapidly and raggedly.

The blowback from that impossibly huge art and the destruction that it wreaked worked together to crush Alice. As soon as the Osmanthus Blade had returned to her sheath, she crumpled onto Amayori’s back.

The dragon gently cushioned her body, slowly descending in a spiral motion toward the front line of the Human Guardian Army. The first to run to the dragon was Vice Commander Fanatio. Her outstretched arms caught Alice as she slid from the dragon’s back.

“…That was incredible spellwork and Incarnation, Alice,” Fanatio said, overcome with emotion. Alice’s eyelids rose, giving her a glimpse of the burning red floor of the ravine and the figures of enemy soldiers fleeing in uncontrolled panic. She couldn’t see any bodies, even. Either the initial burst of light had evaporated them instantly, or the explosion had scattered them to pieces.

The sight of such merciless destruction and carnage did not fill her with pride, but soon there came a swelling roar of cheers from the soldiers around her. Individual voices blended and morphed into one great exultation of triumph, repeated over and over.

Praise for the Integrity Knights and the Axiom Church ringing in her ears, Alice finally let out the breath she’d been holding and straightened herself up with Fanatio’s help. The vice commander gave her a sympathetic smile and dipped her head.

“The enemy has retreated. You guided us to victory.”

Alice smiled back at her, then said severely, “The battle is not yet over, Fanatio. We must consume the sacred power created by that attack for healing arts, lest the enemy reuse it against us.”

“You’re right…The dark knights and pugilists that make up the core of their army are still in pristine shape,” said the beautiful dark-haired woman, though her voice did sound tired. “In that case, everyone on their feet currently, take the wounded and withdraw toward the Second Regiment! All priests and those guardsmen with knowledge of healing arts, focus on curing the wounded as best you can until the power dries up! And keep an eye on the enemy in the meanwhile!”

The guards scrambled to carry out her order. In the rear, the commands for sacred arts could be heard, one after the other.

“I will report to the commander himself. May I leave this in your hands now?”

Alice nodded, and Fanatio gave her another smile before trotting off. The people cleared out of the area, and soon only Alice and Amayori were present at the front line. She watched the vice commander go, then walked to her dragon and scratched under its chin, purring, “You did very well up there, Amayori. I know it must have been tiring to maintain a stationary position for so long. Go back to your bed and eat your fill.”

The dragon trilled excitedly, then flapped its wings and rose into the air until it could glide back to its own kind at the rear of the camp.

Alice had just taken her very first step toward aiding the injured when she heard a voice.

“………Mentor.”

It was low and soft and belonged to Eldrie.

She turned around to offer encouragement and praise to her only disciple and saw the young man, who was always so carefree and saucy, in a dreadful state. The sword in his right hand and the whip in his left were dyed black with thick dried blood. On top of that, his shining armor and lustrous, curled lilac hair were splattered and hideous. How hard did one have to fight to end up looking like this?

“E…Eldrie! Are you hurt?!” she asked, holding her breath.

With a vacant expression, he shook his head. “No…I did not take any major wounds. But…I ought to have lost my life in the midst of battle…”

“Why would you say that? You have a duty to lead the men-at-arms and fight to the very end of this battle…”

“I could not achieve my duty,” the young Integrity Knight murmured, his voice cracking.

What Alice did not know was that after Eldrie had allowed the mountain goblins to slip past the defensive line with their smoke-screen strategy, he’d spent several minutes fruitlessly attempting to clear the smoke without sacred arts, until he’d finally taken his guards and chased after the goblins that had gotten behind them.

But by that point, Chief Kosogi of the goblins had already been defeated by Renly, who was generally known to be a failure of a knight. His chance at regaining face after this failure lost, Eldrie’s cool slipped away from him, and he began slaughtering fleeing goblins one after the other. When he stared up into the sky at Alice’s godly display, he was already splattered in fresh blood.

“I betrayed…your expectations of me…” He returned the Frostscale Whip to his side and used the empty hand to cover his face. “So stupid…so miserable…so humiliating…A disgrace of a knight…”

And he had wanted to protect his mentor?

With the power of that great sacred art to alter the heavens and earth? She was completely beyond his reach in every way.

He was never necessary. What use would a genius have for a half-assed excuse for a knight like him? He excelled in no area—not sword ability nor sacred power nor Perfect Control—and he couldn’t even be counted upon to outsmart a bunch of goblins.

The idea that he could be worthy of her heart…of gaining her love…It was laughable.

“I do not have…the right to call myself your disciple!” spat Eldrie, so fiercely that blood nearly flew from his lungs.

“You…you did so well!” Alice stammered, in a daze. It was all she could bring herself to say.

What had happened to Eldrie? There had been confusion at the front line, but they’d defended against the enemy without too much damage so far.

“…I, the guardian army, and the people of the realm need you. Why would you berate yourself so fiercely?” she asked, trying to keep her voice as calm and soothing as possible, but the darkness did not leave Eldrie’s eyes. His blood-flecked cheeks twitched, and his voice was barely audible to her ears.

“Need…as a source of power in battle? Or……?”

He did not finish that question. An alien growl rolled through the air at that moment, drawing Alice’s and Eldrie’s attention.

“Frrrhh…”

It was wet and throaty, like a wolf’s warning signal. Alice’s eyes were wide and alert as she stared into the darkness down the ravine. The smoldering flames here and there in the valley cast light on some huge shape standing ahead.

It was not human. The lower extremities were folded at an odd angle, the waist was extraordinarily long, and the torso was powerful but slouching forward. The head atop its shoulders was nearly indistinguishable from a wolf. This was the last remaining demi-human race of the Dark Territory, the ogre.

Alice had her hand on the pommel of her sword already, but she noticed that the ogre was unarmed. In fact, the left half of its body was badly burned, even smoking slightly. The burning light attack was responsible for these wounds. But why didn’t it flee along with its surviving companions?

She glanced around to see that the other soldiers were all in the back, and only she and Eldrie stood at the front now. Wary of the ogre’s movements, Alice asked sharply, “Your life must be nearly down to nothing. Why do you stand there without a weapon?”

The demi-human growled miserably. “Grrr…I am…ogre chief, Furgr…” Its long tongue hung out of its open mouth as it panted.

Alice squeezed harder on her sword. If it was chief of the ogres, it was one of the ten dark lords, among the highest rank of the enemy army. It must be expending its last bit of strength to attack.

But the ogre’s next words took her aback.

“I…saw. You created…spell of, light. That power…that look…You are Priestess of Light. Grrr…If I…take you…war will end. Ogres return…to the plains…”

What…is it saying? Priestess of Light? The war will end…?

It didn’t make sense to Alice, but she could tell she was on the verge of obtaining some extremely important information. She had to find out more. What was the Priestess of Light? Where was she to be taken?

But the moment the ogre’s words halted, she heard a voice scream, “Why, you…overgrown beast!!”

It was Eldrie. His bloody sword was high overhead, then swooping downward directly toward the ogre chief.

But it did not finish its swing.

Alice leaped so quickly, she practically teleported, pinching the edge of Eldrie’s blade between her fingertips and using all her strength to stop his momentum.

“M-Mentor…why?!” he gasped, falling to his knee, but she couldn’t take the time to explain it to him. She let go of the sword and turned, approaching the still ogre.

Up close, she could see that the creature’s wounds were not just deep, but mortal. It was charred black from its left arm to its chest, and its left eyeball was cloudy. Alice sensed that its consciousness itself was hazy, but she asked her questions anyway.

“Indeed…I am the Priestess of Light. Now, where are you taking me? Who is it that seeks me?”

“…Grrr…” The ogre’s good eye shone. Blood-flecked spittle ran down its long tongue. “…Emperor…Vecta…said. Only wants…Priestess of Light. Grab priestess…deliverer’s wish…comes true. Ogres…return to plains…keep horses…hunt birds…live……”

Emperor Vecta.

The name of the god of darkness, as he was known in the human lands. And that figure was now present in the Dark Territory? And he had started this war for the purpose of gaining this “Priestess of Light” that he wanted?

Alice committed these details to memory as she favored the creature that stood before her with a look of compassion. None of the stink of greed and desire found wafting off the goblins exuded from this wolf-headed warrior. It merely took part in the war as commanded and pulled back its bowstring—and nearly all its people had died out before they could even loose their arrows.

“…Don’t you despise me? I was the one who slaughtered your people,” Alice said. She couldn’t help it, even knowing that nothing would come of it.

The ogre’s answer was simple: “The strong…bear as much…as they have strength. I, too…bear chief’s duty. So…I capture you…and take…to……!”

Grrrooooo!!

The ogre suddenly bayed ferociously. Its powerful right arm lunged for Alice, quicker than the eye could follow.

Ting.

It was the briefest of sounds: the Osmanthus Blade’s hilt hitting the sheath. Alice had drawn it, slashed, and returned it to its scabbard at several times the speed of even the ogre’s attack.

The creature’s large body froze.

Alice took a step back, and the ogre slowly sank to the ground. There was a fresh bloody line across its burly chest, from which the last bits of its life spilled out as pale dots of light. She reached toward the body of the proud wolf-headed warrior, stopping the sacred power that floated up from it and creating a number of wind elements.

“Let your soul travel across the plains, at least…”

She swept her hand aside, turning the formation of green lights into a little whirlwind that rose up and up into the eastern sky.