The Traitorous Scripture

All she wanted was to be special.

Sahara knew she was a mean, cowardly person.

She was deeply jealous, overly sarcastic, impulsive, and far too quick to dislike people.

The aloof attitude she maintained on the surface was a mask to hide the ugliness of her true nature. Whenever she saw someone exceptional, the flames of jealousy burned within her, and she despised herself all the more for being so petty.

She felt like iron sand that had been blown off a giant rock by a storm, sinking to the bottom of a river to rot and turn black. And she hated herself so much that she could hardly stand it.

That was why she wanted to be special.

To be more powerful than other people.

If only she were stronger, surely she could be kind to others.

Or so she thought.

Sahara first came to the monastery when a certain human trafficking organization was destroyed.

The brutal battle between Flare the Executioner and the Director of the Fourth. When the dispute that involved every nation on the continent finally ended, the organization that had kidnapped Sahara was taken down as quickly and carelessly as an afterthought.

For Sahara, being rescued by Flare was a very special memory. At the time, she had been locked up in a cage to be sold as a sacrifice for Original Sin Conjurings.

“A kid?”

Flare barely spared her a glance. But the woman with the short, dark-red hair, crossing blades with the enemy using only a dagger, was burned into Sahara’s memory.

She was so cool.

Sahara admired Flare’s attitude.

She always had a unique air about her and never let others influence her. Sahara wanted so badly to be just like her.

Once she was freed, Sahara had nowhere to go.

She was originally sold into captivity because her parents, who were part of the Commons, were desperately impoverished. After she was released from the human trafficking organization, Sahara ended up being brought to the monastery because of her high aptitude for Guiding Force.

So for Sahara, being brought to that clearly unusual monastery was actually a stroke of good luck.

Despite being in the holy land of the Faust, the monastery was isolated from everything else. The atmosphere was so strictly controlled, and the education program so rigid, that one might think it was designed specifically to break young children’s hearts.

But Sahara welcomed the severe training that was imposed upon her. Because of the bizarre nature of the place, she felt like she might be able to become someone special if she trained here. When the stress got so intense that it felt like it would crush her spirit, she took it out on weaker opponents. There were some kids at the monastery who promised to help one another survive, but Sahara never hesitated to kick any of them down.

She was going to be just like Flare, the woman who’d saved her.

Sahara was able to throw herself into her training because she had a clear goal, and she was willing to sacrifice anything and anyone to do it, even her fellow trainees.

She raised her grades through training and lowered those of the others. While she was striving to become a priestess as quickly as possible, using whatever means necessary, she heard that Flare had captured the Director of the Fourth and would be promoted to a Master and put in charge of their monastery.

Hope began to fill her heart.

Flare was a living legend among Executioners.

She was also the person who’d saved Sahara from the human trafficking organization, even if it was indirectly. She fantasized that Flare might even take a personal interest in her as a successor.

But that didn’t happen.

Flare never even showed her face at the monastery. Sahara was disappointed, but she focused all her efforts on training nevertheless.

Crestology and materialogy required memorization of complex steps and a wide breadth of knowledge; Guiding Force manipulation involved delicate mental concentration; physical training emphasized straightforward bodybuilding and painful exhaustion.

All of these were humble tasks, far from the glorious specialness that Sahara longed for. Then one day, Master Flare brought a vacant-looking little girl with chestnut hair to the monastery.

She was an utterly ordinary girl, albeit with a mildly pretty face. Sahara likely wouldn’t have given her a second thought were it not for the fact that Flare was the one who brought her to the monastery.

All along, Flare had never bothered with the monastery at all, but after Master Flare brought that chestnut-haired girl, she stuck around and basically gave her nonstop one-on-one instruction.

Rage bubbled up within Sahara.

Why was she so angry? She couldn’t put it into words, but whenever she saw Master instructing that chestnut-haired girl, her irrational annoyance grew.

There was nothing impressive about that girl. Her conjuring abilities, Guiding Force levels, and physical potential were all lower than Sahara’s. If anything, she might have better composure than Sahara, but that was it. In fact, whenever Sahara challenged her to a one-on-one sparring match, the other girl never won once.

Her abilities were average at best, yet she’d somehow caught Master Flare’s eye.

While Flare never noticed Sahara at all.

As Sahara struggled with confusing feelings of frustration, a newcomer arrived who cried constantly. Judging her as an easy mark, Sahara gathered her classmates and surrounded the girl.

She intended to make the girl cry even more as an outlet for her stress. Sahara had no doubt that she would be a weak, easy target.

Instead, the girl punched her in the face and beat up all the other girls, then straddled her and punched her repeatedly.

It was a highly unexpected counterattack.

Her face contorting with tears, Sahara vowed never to approach the new girl again. After some investigation, she committed the name Momo to memory and carefully kept her distance.

That was when she learned that you can’t always tell how dangerous someone is by their appearance. Since the chestnut-haired girl was also starting to surpass her in training by that time, Sahara became increasingly frantic to focus on increasing her own skills.

Surely, the only reason she was in danger of losing to that slow, spacey chestnut-haired girl was because Master was giving her personal training. So Sahara decided to secretly spy on the pair while they trained together.

She saw when the chestnut-haired girl got ribbons from Master.

Two thin red ribbons.

No other child in this monastery had ever received such a luxurious gift. The flames of jealousy burned even brighter.

Why was it always her?

Sahara seethed with frustration, but if that was all, then it probably would have smoldered out.

But the next day, of all things, the girl gave them to Momo.

Even though the chestnut-haired girl was the one who had received them, Sahara saw them in the violent crybaby’s hair. She burned with an unbelievable amount of rage. During the group’s bathing time, she even attempted to steal the ribbons.

Momo sensed Sahara’s presence and promptly caught her, punched her repeatedly until she could barely move, and even tore off her clothes and stole them.

Sahara cried in secret, wondering why she would take her clothes, but decided it was best not to do anything else to her.

“You kids can leave this monastery now.”

Some time later, Flare abruptly announced that she was releasing the students from the monastery.

“We’re not getting rid of you or anything. But those of you who want to stay will just be moved to a normal monastery.”

While the other kids seemed reassured and excited by this, Sahara was indifferent. She intended to stay at this monastery. She was determined to complete her training and become special, unlike the other kids.

“Just live a normal life. It’s not like you know anything big anyway. If you guys are saved, this one’s just going to carry that much bigger of a burden.”

Until she saw the chestnut-haired girl standing behind the Master, who was laughing heartily.

Then her feeling that she could stay here and learn to be special vanished all at once.

Her head sank into her hands as her heart surged with such maddened emotions that she wanted to rip her chest open.

Master Flare never looked at anyone else, yet she was devoting herself to educating this chestnut-haired fool, giving her ribbons as a gift, and even listening to her obviously foolish requests.

Was this girl really so special that she deserved all that?

The hopes and adoration she felt when Flare first rescued her shattered to pieces. A feeling akin to loneliness began to seep into Sahara’s heart through the tiny cracks forming in it.

Sahara decided to leave Flare’s monastery.

On the day she gathered her things and prepared to depart, she investigated the chestnut-haired girl and learned for the first time that her name was Menou. Then she went around and spoke ill about her to the others, as a sort of parting gift.

“Does she think we’re all in her debt now? She’s got to be planning something. What a creepy girl. She’s just as crazy as Master.”

When Momo figured out that she was the source of this slander, she beat Sahara up until she could scarcely speak anymore.

Sahara still just gritted her teeth and bore it, refusing until the very end to apologize.

When she left the monastery, she looked back only once.

The chestnut-haired girl—Menou—had her usually unkempt hair tied up in a black scarf ribbon. For some reason, Sahara could tell at a glance that it was made out of her own clothes that Momo had stolen.

After that, Sahara transferred to a normal monastery.

It was a pure, noble monastery with no ties to the dark side of society. Instead of intensely training future Executioners, they took in girls with nowhere else to go as nuns and educated those who were interested to eventually become priestesses.

Sahara’s desperate desire to be special had shriveled and faded. One reason was that there was no telling where another Momo-like individual might be hiding. She lived as modestly and reservedly as she could.

In the local church, Sahara became a reasonably talented honors student. She was told that she was a promising youngster, that she could likely earn her priestess robes before the age of twelve. She’d received a self-esteem-boosting assessment without even trying terribly hard.

After that, her bad attitude subsided, and Sahara naturally became a more sociable girl.

As these relatively peaceful days passed, she heard rumors about Menou.

The youngest person ever to become an Executioner. The alias of Flarette. The perfect record of completed missions.

The specifics of her many accomplishments even reached Sahara’s ears. Menou was making a name for herself, even if it was only in the underbelly of society.

Sahara was still only a nun.

For the first time since she left that monastery, her faded feelings of jealousy began to swell up again.

She needed results. She had to hurry up and graduate from the black robes of a nun to the white of an assistant priestess, and then the indigo of a fully-fledged priestess.

She had to do it as soon as possible.

She had to do it, or…or what?

Pushed onward by an impatience she couldn’t quite explain, Sahara transferred to the front lines of defense against the Mechanical Society in the eastern Wild Frontier, seeking a chance to climb the ranks.

Others tried to stop her, but Sahara forced her way through. If she went into battle, she could distinguish herself. So she chose the place that would offer her the most opportunities to fight.

The battlefield lived up to its reputation.

The lines of defense on the eastern Wild Frontier were also known as the dumping ground of the Mechanical Society.

Absurdly enough, it was just an area where the conjured soldiers that made up the Mechanical Society were frequently discarded.

The only conjured soldiers that came out of the Mechanical Society were composed of a single Primary Color, but if two Primary Colors combined outside, they became far more dangerous. If a conjured soldier with all three Primary Colors was formed, there were multiple instances of them destroying entire nations. The rules of these combinations were unclear, but one thing was certain: The more conjured soldiers of different Primary Colors were nearby, the greater the likelihood of a combination became.

Knight-style, dragon-style, angel-style, and insect-style. All kinds of conjured soldiers advanced from within the Mechanical Society. They had to be destroyed as quickly as possible. These opponents had a huge amount of material resources, though their lack of strategy was the one saving grace. It was said that one year there would equal a lifetime’s worth of battles for the average priestess, and that soon proved to be true.

Sahara fought frantically and recklessly.

With the crest in the gauntlet on her right arm, Sahara excelled at close combat, even in the eastern Wild Frontier. The veterans who had fought there the longest often whispered advice to her.

“Don’t get involved with them. Don’t let them control you. If you hear the voice of the world, choose death instead without hesitation.”

As they explained, fighters near the border of the Mechanical Society sometimes received messages from this so-called voice of the world and became obsessed with it, devoting themselves to battle. Depending on the individual, some ended up killing their comrades, while others resisted restraint and ventured deep into the eastern Wild Frontier, never to be seen again.

Sahara couldn’t be bothered with these vague warnings, nor did she try to glean more specific information. The battlefield here was harsh. It was only natural that some might go mad. Not long after she dismissed these as tall tales, she heard the newest rumors.

Menou had defeated Archbishop Orwell in Grisarika Kingdom. And she fought off the Major Human Error Pandæmonium in the port city Libelle in Vanira Kingdom.

It was the next day after Sahara heard about these far-too-impressive feats. She had ventured farther and deeper than usual, into enemy territory, when she was seized with a strange sensation.

Character name: Sahara. Data has been registered.

It was a disconnected echo, as if it was coming from within the world itself.

Welcome to Container World. You have acquired level-up functionality. By defeating enemies, you can now gain experience points, raise your level, and acquire skills. Now that you have gained the ability to expand your Vessel, please enjoy your adventure in this world.

She heard a strange voice.

It was as if it was timed perfectly to take advantage of her momentary mental weakness.

The voice seemed to promise that if she leveled up, she could become stronger than ever before.

You have leveled up.

She heard the voice again when she defeated a conjured soldier.

At first, she assumed she was hearing things, but the voice came again each time she defeated another conjured soldier. It was as if the world was speaking directly into her head.

You have leveled up.

When she defeated conjured soldiers, her level went up.

You have leveled up.

Defeating monsters raised her level, too.

You have leveled up. You have leveled up. Skill acquired. You have leveled up.

When her level went up, her vessel expanded. She was able to acquire unusual conjurings called skills without any special training. Her base amount of Guiding Force, which was usually decided at one’s birth, expanded.

She was getting stronger.

As she looked at the increasing numbers, she could feel that more clearly than she ever had.

It worked out perfectly for her. She had come here to make a name for herself, after all. So if she found a way to get stronger, of course she would embrace it.

You have leveled up. You have leveled up. You have leveled up. Skill acquired. You have leveled up. Skill acquired. You have leveled up. You have leveled up. Skill acquired. You have leveled up. You have leveled up.

Gradually, it became more difficult to raise her level.

This wasn’t enough.

Just as she was wondering what to do, a voice whispered from within her heart.

Couldn’t you just kill people?

Sahara shuddered.

That was definitely not right. There was no way she would come up with an idea like that on her own. She couldn’t believe it, and yet the idea stuck in her head no matter how hard she tried to forget it.

It wasn’t right to kill people. Sahara firmly believed that as she fought. At any given moment, she felt a strange tug, like a string of some kind was about to snap somewhere inside her.

The defense lines of the eastern Wild Frontier. In the midst of their ongoing battle to destroy the conjured soldiers that arose there, Sahara encountered none other than Genom Cthulha.

The beast of the Commons. The Priestess Slayer and conqueror of the eastern Wild Frontier. Despite being born in this world, he was said to have power strong enough to match the Pure Concept abilities of the lost ones; he was a freak of nature who exceeded human limits despite being one himself.

If she defeated him, Sahara could surely be special.

Normally, she would never have even considered fighting someone like that.

But Sahara stepped inside the Mechanical Society and challenged Genom.

“So how do you feel now?”

The encounter was over in an instant. It couldn’t have even been called a real fight.

Holding Sahara’s torn-off right arm, the man looked down at the dying girl.

“Why did you try to challenge me? Looks like you’re mixed up in the Mechanical Society, but…you shoulda just run from me, yeah? I mean, even you musta known I can’t leave the Mechanical Society.”

He was a very strange man indeed. Pieces of his body were missing. And yet, the cross-sectional gashes in his body were overflowing with Guiding Light. Strangest of all, the man had no face.

There was a huge, gaping hole where his face should have been. He looked so inhuman that it was hard to tell whether he was a person at all.

A Guiding Force life-form.

A supernatural being who cast off their physical body and transcended the framework of humanity. It occurred to Sahara that this must be the end result of a person who raised their level high enough.

“Why…?”

The reason was simple.

Because she wanted to be special.

Sahara wanted to be more special than Menou. After hearing the rumors about her latest accomplishments, Sahara realized she could never catch up to Menou with normal means. So she thought that if she defeated Genom, perhaps then she could surpass the other girl.

But she didn’t want to share that unspeakably foolish reason with this man.

“Because I… I didn’t eat breakfast this morning.”

So she swallowed the truth before it escaped and talked about her morning instead.

“I went out without breakfast, and then it rained. My clothes got wet, my boots got muddy, my hair was a frizzy mess. And after all those annoyances, I ran into you.”

She described all the ridiculously minor inconveniences of her afternoon.

“I was in such a bad mood, I didn’t even care anymore, so I decided to challenge you.”

And she made it the reason for her death.

Once she said it, she realized: That was surprisingly close to the real reason. After hearing about Menou, she’d granted the Mechanical Society entrance into her weakened heart. Half aware that she could never catch up to Menou, she became self-destructive and challenged Genom.

“Heh…hee-hee-hee.”

Somehow, it was all so funny that she started laughing.

If she was going to die anyway, it might as well be for a reason like that. When Genom heard her reason for dying, his one remaining eye softened.

“Oh yeah? Is that right? Well, that ain’t a half-bad reason. It wouldn’t have been so bad to be killed over such a stupid thing, but…guess I missed my chance. If I asked your reason first, I might’ve let you kill me, but now I let that go to waste.”

Genom didn’t kill Sahara.

The next time she woke up, Sahara’s right arm had inexplicably been replaced with a prosthetic. She realized that the Mechanical Society’s effects on her had gotten stronger. It was trying to devour Sahara, from her spirit to her body.

A few days later, Sahara fled the eastern Wild Frontier. She intended to sneak away quietly, but one day, a veteran priestess noticed her right arm.

“That girl’s been affected by the voice of the world. Her spirit is being consumed and controlled. It’s too late for her! If we don’t do something, she’ll become a conjured soldier!”

On that priestess’s command, Sahara was nearly killed without mercy.

Instead, she ran.

Even with her increased level, it was a stroke of good luck that she managed to get away from the experienced priestesses and soldiers working together to stop her. They assumed for some reason that Sahara couldn’t leave the eastern Wild Frontier, so there was a gap in their ranks when they surrounded her.

After she fled for days nonstop to shake off her pursuers, Sahara arrived in the Balar Desert. There, she thought long and hard about what she should do and finally reached a conclusion.

She would kill Flare’s successor, Flarette, also known as Menou.

That was the only option left to Sahara.

She had been trained for a while as an Executioner, even if it was incomplete. By following the trail of her former classmate’s accomplishments, she was able to predict her next move.

Examining the information, she formulated a plan to have Menou meet up with the knights who were chasing Sahara and clash against the nearby criminal group Iron Chain. Once they weakened and exhausted each other, Sahara would swoop in and wipe them all out.

Which was why Sahara made contact with Iron Chain and gave them information about Menou.

Sahara was only locked in the cell to wait in case Menou showed up. She predicted that Menou would be less likely to suspect her if she was clearly a captive, nothing more.

Even as she formed this plan, she was assessing her own situation as objectively as possible.

The voice she heard, the strange expansion of the Vessel, the outbreak of symptoms on the front lines of the Mechanical Society.

When she put together everything that had happened to her, she realized how dire the situation really was. Her spirit was being consumed. The idea of killing Menou to raise her own level clearly didn’t come from Sahara’s former self.

…Or did it?

Sahara’s desire to be special was of her own will.

Wasn’t she just claiming her spirit was being taken over as an excuse? Could it be that she just wanted to pin the blame on the Mechanical Society?

Why did she want to become special anyway?

Sahara thought long and hard behind the iron bars.

Her adoration for Master Flare had long since shattered. Sahara knew she could never be like Flare and would never get her attention no matter how hard she tried.

That was why her feeling of wanting to be special had lost the luster it had in her youth.

It coiled in her chest like a dark desire, far too dense and muddy to be called a dream.

What was it, then? She didn’t know, but she wanted to be special.

Being special was all she could think about.

As she crouched inside the cell in a daze, Menou arrived. The Iron Chain gang started attacking her. It was the perfect chance. Sahara walked unsteadily to the bars and peered out at their battle.

She was dimly aware that her plan was full of holes.

What would happen if Menou knew that Sahara was a wanted escapee? Even if she was too focused on guarding her Otherworlder to hear such things, Momo was probably her aide and might fill her in. And if Menou mentioned Sahara or her distinguishing features to the knights, then it would all be over.

There were plenty of places where it could fail.

But Sahara still decided to try to make contact with Menou, in spite of her patched-together plan. She had to raise her level. There was nothing more important to her than leveling up and unlocking new skills.

She was going to be special.

Clack. Sahara rattled the bars.

Menou looked over at her.

Her pale skin. Her eyes that held the faint color of blood. Her light-chestnut hair. All of her coloration was strangely light, making her almost mysteriously beautiful.

Clack. She rattled the bars.

Sahara hated Menou.

She hated her so much.

She was so jealous, so bitter, so resentful. She hated her so, so much—and admired her so much that her heart was charred with longing.

Sahara only turned out this way because Menou existed.

She never wanted to see her or Momo again.

But she never really wanted them to die, either.

And she certainly never felt like she wanted to kill them.

All she really wanted…

All she wanted was to be special.

Sahara knew that she was a mean, cowardly person.

She was deeply jealous, overly sarcastic, impulsive, and far too quick to dislike people. When Master brought that absentminded child to the monastery, Sahara couldn’t stop wondering what the other girl had that she didn’t, and she despised herself all the more for being so petty.

She felt like iron sand that had been blown off a giant rock by a storm, sinking to the bottom of a river to rust and turn black. And she hated herself so much that she could hardly stand it.

That was why she wanted to be special.

To be more powerful than other people.

If only she were stronger, surely she could be kind to others. Or so she thought.

She didn’t want to defeat anyone. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. And she certainly never wanted to kill anyone.

She just thought that if she got stronger…maybe she could be a beautiful person who did things for other people, like Menou.

That was all.

So if she killed Menou and got her experience points, she could level up. She could surpass her at last.

She could finally be special.

“Listen, Menou.”

She had to get stronger. She had to kill Menou. She just had to keep raising her level.

Then surely she could someday escape from the cage of iron sand that was sinking her pitiful vessel.

“You have to do something about the Vessel…”

She was sure of it…

“You have to kill me.”

So why did she make such a request? Even now, as she raised her fist with resolve to kill Menou, she didn’t really know.

It was just that she happened to notice that the black scarf ribbon Menou was wearing was made out of clothes Sahara herself used to wear…and without thinking, she wrapped her arms around the girl from behind and whispered that in her ear.

The photon flash of Guiding Light shot out of her raised palm and grazed Menou’s cheek.

There was a soft sizzle of burning skin. Before the heat on Menou’s cheek could turn into pain, Sahara was leaping toward her.

Sahara clenched her fist, no doubt assuming that Menou had lost her balance while dodging the first attack. She pulled back her metal arm, aiming for a body blow.

Menou raised her dagger to parry it.

Guiding Force: Merge Materials—Prosthetic Arm, Inner Seal Conjuration—Activate [Skill: Guiding Cannon]

A burst of Guiding Light from Sahara’s elbow accelerated her fist forward.

It would be impossible to block her completely. Giving up on holding her ground, Menou chose to let the force blow her backward instead.

As she flew through the air, Menou flipped around and landed easily.

She wasn’t shocked by the sudden attack. Menou had never trusted Sahara completely in the first place.

All they had in common was the fact that they were raised in the same monastery. If anything, the fact that someone she knew from that monastery had randomly shown up in her path seemed more suspicious.

She had been wondering why the timing worked out like this.

“Iron Chain… No, I can’t imagine you were working for them.”

“No. I’m sure you’ve realized this, but I happened to know about Iron Chain’s plans already. So I figured I would lend them a hand in their efforts to expand the Mechanical Society, that’s all.”

Miller and the Iron Chain group had figured out Menou’s movements because Sahara was feeding them information.

But why would she do such a thing?

“I’m not sure I understand your motives. What do you gain by killing me?”

“My level goes up.”

Menou’s face twitched. “Level? What happens when it goes up, then?”

“I get to be special. More than other people.”

“…How disturbing. You don’t want to be human anymore?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

How had she reached a conclusion like that?

“Someone who was special from the beginning could never understand.” Sahara had no interest in trying to reach an understanding with Menou. “There have been a few hitches, like the fact that you knew the Princess Knight somehow, but you still danced for me perfectly. Now that you and those knights are exhausted, I just have to kill you, and it’ll all be over.”

She had played both sides, led them to each other so that they would fight. Once both parties were worn out from battle, Sahara planned to defeat them with ease.

Menou didn’t get angry that she’d been deceived, nor did she appear shocked by the setup.

“Level… Level, hmm? I see. I’ve heard the rumors about the eastern Wild Frontier, but I never expected to see it for myself.”

Instead, she just smiled coldly. Sahara’s right arm reflected in Menou’s eyes.

“There’s one fundamental flaw in that plan.”

Sahara’s brow furrowed at Menou’s mocking tone. “What do you mean?”

“You abandoned your Executioner training and never even bothered to earn the robes of a priestess of the Faust. Do you really think a spoiled little nun has what it takes to kill me?”

Sahara’s eyes burned with rage, while Menou’s glittered cold.

Taking a deep breath, Sahara steadied herself.

Guiding Force: Merge Materials—Prosthetic Arm, Inner Seal Conjuration—Activate [Skill: Silver Gauntlet]

Her right arm transformed.

The metal pieces split apart and expanded while Guiding Light filled the newly formed spaces and solidified a new shape. Her once-slender arm became a large, sturdy, shining gauntlet.

The Guiding Light that was used to form the transformation shot out with a crackling sound.

“Well, I suppose this is about what I expected.”

That was impossible, of course.

The transformation of Sahara’s right arm far surpassed any known Guiding Force technique. Even for the Faust, Guiding prosthetics were limited to imitating a real arm. They had no technology for creating arms that could transform.

But Menou didn’t let her alarm show.

“That arm looks awfully heavy.”

“You want one, too?” Sahara’s expression didn’t change as she raised her fist. “It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”

Guiding Force: Merge Materials—Prosthetic Arm, Inner Seal Conjuration—Activate [Skill: Guiding Cannon]

Guiding Force: Connect—Scripture, 2:5—Invoke [Rejoice, for the wall that surrounds a pious flock of sheep shall never crumble.]

A cannonball of Guiding Force shot out from Sahara’s palm.

It was far larger than the ones she’d used thus far. As the dense particles of force flew straight toward Menou, she deflected them with the scripture conjuring she’d already prepared.

The holy wall of the church.

A voice spoke to Menou from outside the wall of light that formed around her.

“I know what you’re really made of. We’re from the same monastery, after all. Your strength, Guiding Force capacity, faith. All of it is perfectly average.”

There was a clunk of a fist hitting the wall. It was a light touch, not the loud crash of a punch. Sahara was touching the barrier Menou had created.

In the next moment, Menou found out why.

Guiding Force: Merge Materials—Prosthetic Arm, Inner Seal Conjuration—

Sahara’s arm began to transform again.

The upper part of her fist took on a cylindrical shape with a massive stake in the middle. It was so large that Menou could see it even past the wall she’d made.

The energy built up at the bottom of the cylinder released all at once.

—Activate [Skill: Pile Driver]

The massive stake shot out of her arm.

It shook the air with the force of a battering ram. The explosive strength that propelled it forward at point-blank range gave the stake incredible piercing power. The barrier made from scripture broke apart under the immense impact.

“Which means fighting multiple battles after marching through the desert will definitely be tough for you.”

While the shining shards of Guiding Force scattered, Sahara stood with her metal arm held up high. She smirked, having destroyed Menou’s defenses.

“You still wanna keep going?”

She had a plan to wear Menou down, a decent home field advantage, and a prosthetic arm that could destroy Menou’s conjurings. And in this desert, there was no earthen vein. There would be no chance for her to turn things around with a powerful invocation. Menou was at a complete disadvantage.

So when Sahara invited her to surrender, she only had one response.

“This is still a good deal better than the time with Archbishop Orwell.”

Her strength and Guiding Force were dwindling a little. She had her dagger and scripture.

That was plenty. It was hardly any different from her training in the monastery.

“Sahara.”

Sahara responded with only silence, but Menou just smiled gently.

This place was still a conjuring circle that would activate if the right conditions were met. If anyone died, they would further supply the circle with Guiding Force. And so Menou knew exactly what to say.

“I can’t kill you, so don’t worry, I’ll hold back.”

Sahara’s expression sharpened at the challenge. While she was distracted by her thoughts, Menou moved forward.

Menou approached Sahara with unhurried, unsteady steps. There was confusion mixed into the other girl’s rage. Menou’s approach was simply too vulnerable. As she advanced without even readying her dagger, her defense was so full of holes that Sahara must have questioned if she had gone mad with desperation.

Just as it seemed like she might be staggering with exhaustion, she suddenly shifted from sluggish steps to top speed.

“…?!”

Sahara gasped. She couldn’t react in time to the sudden change in tempo. When she quickly drew back, she played right into Menou’s hands. Menou’s kick struck her squarely in the chest as she retreated.

“Nngh—”

Sahara grunted in pain, but she didn’t stop moving.

Holding her ground against the impact of the kick, Sahara used her metallic right arm to counterattack. With the high output of Guiding Force behind her strikes, Menou couldn’t resist them in this state, no matter how hard she tried. No, even if she were at full power, she wouldn’t be able to withstand those attacks alone.

But that was fine.

Guiding Force: Connect—Scripture, 6:5—

It didn’t require all that much force to kill a person.

Sensing the construction of a conjuring, Sahara’s attention whipped toward Menou’s scripture. She moved to stop her, unwilling to give her enough time to invoke a scripture conjuring at such a short distance.

Menou abandoned the scripture conjuring.

The small amount of Guiding Force she’d put into the scripture promptly dispersed. Sahara’s expression contorted with surprise. What was Menou playing at? As she stood disoriented in shock, she saw Menou raise her scripture.

The priestess drove a corner of it into Sahara’s side.

“……!” Sahara let out a silent shriek of pain.

What Menou had just struck her flank with was a nearly five-hundred-page, metal-reinforced book. The resulting pain was enough to send a normal person writhing around on the floor. Sahara withstood it, but that was the most she could do.

Her movements stopped completely. With an almost relaxed motion, the blade of Menou’s dagger cut through Sahara’s right shoulder.

Sahara looked at her opponent.

Even covered in sweat, with her bangs sticking to her forehead and wisps of hair clinging to her cheeks, Menou was still beautiful.

“You still want to keep going?”

Menou smiled. Sahara grimaced.

It was all too obvious who had the advantage here.

Why had it turned out like this?

Fully aware of her inferiority, Sahara still fought desperately.

She wanted to escape from her current self. She wanted to be something, anything, different. Wanted something else that she couldn’t put into words.

She’d wanted it from the day Master Flare first brought Menou.

Menou was in the position Sahara had wanted. She wasn’t better than Sahara in some way. It wasn’t like Sahara couldn’t beat Menou—she’d won in training plenty of times. It didn’t seem like Menou had more potential than her, either. Their circumstances weren’t even all that different.

So why couldn’t she lay a finger on her?

“Damn it…aaaaall!” Sahara yelled, overcome with frustration. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she launched herself at Menou.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sahara was supposed to become a new version of herself. She wanted to change, to be a completely different person.

She thought she could change, if only she leveled up and got stronger.

Both of them had been saved by the same Master. She hadn’t really set out to save anyone, just happened to rescue them in the process of hunting taboos. That was true for both Menou and Sahara.

But one became her traveling companion, and one was left behind.

What was the difference? Sahara gnashed her teeth.

Only that one was in the right place at the right time.

That was the only way to describe it. The girl who looked up to Flare never caught her eye, while the girl who had lost everything ended up becoming her successor.

Why couldn’t it have been Sahara? She raised her fake right arm to pound this unanswerable question into her opponent.

“We’re not different at all.” Menou quietly gave her an answer. “I’m not really special, and I don’t have any hidden talents. I’m sure you knew that much already.”

Why would she say something like that?

She wanted Menou to brag. If she put on airs and acted superior because she was the one who got chosen, at least Sahara could have hated her. It would validate her long-held grudge.

Sahara gritted her teeth. Why didn’t Menou act more conceited? She was raised by Master Flare, became the youngest Executioner in history, and had defeated so many powerful opponents.

But Menou’s dagger was damningly silent.

“I don’t want anyone to try to be like me. Master felt the same way. It makes sense, doesn’t it? An Executioner exists only to kill other people, after all.”

Sahara wanted Menou to be a worse person.

“I don’t want anybody else to have to kill people.”

The more Menou was a good person, the more miserable Sahara became. She felt tiny and horrible for being unable to accept a beautiful girl like Menou. Just being near her made her heart twinge in pain. In the end, a smile from Menou was enough to fill her with loathing.

If Menou had been a bad person, Sahara could have forgiven herself for hating her.

But Sahara was the bad one.

She childishly envied Menou, resented her, challenged her to battle—and most pathetically of all, she was on the verge of losing.

But what was she supposed to do about being bad?

She couldn’t alter the way she felt just by living her life. She couldn’t become a different person just by hearing the right words. Even if she tried to change herself, she would still be the same deep down.

She didn’t know what was right, couldn’t dislodge her deep-seated self-loathing.

So instead, she selfishly made her wishes to someone else.

“I’m begging you, please, just leave me alone.”

The next thing she knew, there were tears in her eyes.

Even if she left Menou behind, Menou didn’t disappear. She kept hearing rumors about her. She kept finding out about her accomplishments. Far away from her, Menou’s fame still gnawed away at Sahara’s heart.

Whether she was controlled by the Mechanical Society or not, Sahara’s ideal of Menou already threatened to crush her heart.

So there was nothing she could do anymore.

She figured it out, whether she wanted to or not.

How exactly did she want to be special? Sahara suddenly realized the terrible answer.

Without a doubt, Sahara just wanted to be Menou.

“One arm wasn’t enough.”

A voice whispered in Sahara’s mind.

“The person you want to be—you can’t become her. Wonder what you are missing? I’ll tell you.”

The faint whisper came from her right arm.

“You have to be that Vessel.”

It was Sahara’s own voice.

“Everyone says the same thing. They want to be strong. They want to be special. They want to be better. They want to be like that person they see in the distance. They want to be anything other than themselves. It’s selfish. So selfish. Yet so dear. That is the desire that drives you.”

A vision of Sahara’s own self appeared in front of her, like standing before a full-length mirror.

Sahara reached out for the illusion of herself. For the left hand that was supposed to someday hold a scripture when she became a priestess. She hated herself more than she could describe. From the moment she became aware of this self-loathing that was lodged too deep to destroy, she lost all hope for her life.

“I understand. It’s a feeling that so few people can relate to. You hate yourself. Your reflection disgusts you so much that you could vomit. Try as you might to figure out why you hate yourself so much, you spend your whole life rejecting yourself.”

She wanted to be someone else. It didn’t have to be Menou.

“So cast off that person you hate so much. Destroy the bug that is your own self.”

She just wanted to be rid of the person she was.

“Become a Vessel.”

Sahara nodded.

Guiding Force: Merge Materials—

As if to answer her prayer, a conjuring began from her right arm, independent of Sahara’s own will.

It wasn’t just Guiding Force that the conjuring was attempting to consume.

Paint Over—Pure Concept [Vessel]—

The conjuring from her right arm entered her spirit and ate into her soul. As she felt herself becoming someone else entirely, Sahara felt only relief.

Finally, this awful display of hers would be over.

Activate [Possession]

The Pure Concept of Vessel that slumbered in Sahara’s right arm invoked a conjuring.

Sahara was sucked into her right arm.

There was no other way to describe what happened. The metal that made up her arm consumed her shoulder and spread further. Her prosthetic right arm covered the rest of her body like a film, until Sahara herself could no longer be seen. The metal that surrounded her split apart the three components of her life—body, spirit, and soul—as if devouring them all, transforming them into three colors of Guiding Light.

Sahara’s body was broken down thoroughly—not physically, but into different colors of light. She turned into particles of red, blue, and green.

Menou was paralyzed at the construction of the conjuring that occurred.

A Pure Concept.

Particles of light finer than sand unfurled with a shushing sound. The Primary Colors were impossible to discern from reality even for Menou’s sharp eyes.

Sahara’s spirit must have been gradually eroded and changed without her realizing it. In this battle, when she gave up whatever was left of herself, her right arm consumed her spirit entirely and took over her body. It used the soul and spirit of the girl called Sahara as materials to create what she wanted.

And the resulting conjured soldier looked just like Menou.

“Ah, ah, aaah…”

The conjured version of Menou made wordless noises as if to test its vocal cords. It was a strange voice, sounding at once natural and inorganic.

“Aaah, ahhh…ahhh, so annoying.”

The nameless conjured soldier tilted its head. Its movements were mechanical, artificial. Otherwise, only one feature distinguished it from the real Menou: long hair untied by a ribbon.

“Damned bugs.”

A shiver ran up Menou’s spine. She instinctively understood what the conjured soldier in front of her was, whether she wanted to or not.

It wasn’t just one Primary Color. It was a perfectly complete conjured soldier, with all three components: red, blue, and green. A legendary wish-fulfillment being that could destroy nations and create worlds.

“Bugs. Damned bugs. Begone from my world. I will crush bugs. This world is still full of that horrid bug known as annoying emotions. I must destroy them. I must consume them. I must correct them. I must overwrite them.”

Menou sensed obvious hostility.

Consumed by self-loathing so strong that she abandoned herself, Sahara had become a conjured soldier. The Pure Concept of Vessel was giving her the power to fulfill her desire to defeat Menou by turning her into a nameless conjured soldier.

“I must crush all bugs to bring peace to my world.”

Sahara’s inferiority complex and self-contradiction were mingling with Vessel’s behavioral principles.

Menou glared sharply at the Vessel conjured soldier.

It had clearly modeled itself after her own existence. It wasn’t really Menou, of course, but an ideal concept of her. It was the Menou whom the girl Sahara had aspired to be, alike yet separate.

Sweat trickled down the nape of Menou’s neck.

All the fighting she’d been forced to endure thus far had drained her energy.

Her priestess robes were heavy with sweat from her body. Her skin was drenched, yet it wasn’t cooling her down nearly enough. The sticky sensation of her ponytail brushing against the back of her neck when she moved felt immensely irritating. Every time she breathed, her lungs protested faintly with pain.

Her stamina had been severely reduced, and she was running low on Guiding Force as well. The sound of her racing heartbeat throbbed in her ears, raising the question of how much longer she could go on.

She was near her limits.

But she wasn’t done yet.

Guiding Force: Connect—Scripture, 3:1—Invoke [And the oncoming enemy did hear the tolling of the bell.]

She was opening with a scripture conjuring. As Menou activated the conjuring, her opponent jumped up. The bell rang out. A power-imbued sound echoed in every direction, crashing into the Vessel conjured soldier in midair.

But the soldier didn’t slow down in the slightest.

It shattered the church bell with a powerful kick. Menou stared in shock. Her scripture attack conjuring hadn’t worked in the slightest. Having destroyed the bell, Sahara landed and dashed forward. She was fast. With a single step, she was right in front of Menou’s nose.

The mirror image of Menou unleashed a punch.

Menou quickly used the scripture as a shield, but the impact was still enough to shake her body.

Not good. She grimaced. Her opponent was preparing a follow-up attack. Just as she sensed that she wouldn’t be able to block it in time, her instincts warning her of danger—the wall suddenly exploded open.

The conjured soldier had been struck by a massive blade as it tried to attack Menou. It was Ashuna. Even more surprisingly, she’d swung her giant sword from outside the room and managed to land it squarely on Sahara’s neck.

“She looks just like you. Is this your twin sister or—what?!”

Ashuna’s casual greeting faded as she saw the result of her cut.

It was truly impressive that Ashuna had jumped in to the rescue and managed to hit her opponent accurately from the other side of the wall.

Unfortunately, her blade hadn’t cut even a little into the conjured soldier’s skin.

“Damned bug.”

The soldier knocked the blade away and shot forward like an arrow.

Even Ashuna, who excelled at close combat, couldn’t follow its movements. It slipped past the broadsword and drove a fist into Ashuna’s abdomen, sending her flying with the impact. As her feet left the floor, the conjured soldier grabbed her by the collar and slammed her down.

There was a tremble underfoot.

The tremors shook Menou’s heart as well. How could Ashuna be taken down so easily?

It was all the more shocking because Menou knew how powerful Ashuna was.

Without bothering to go after the now-unconscious Ashuna, the conjured soldier fixed its gaze on Menou.

“Crush all bugs. If I am now you, then you are no longer anything more than a bug.”

This opponent wasn’t creepy like Pandæmonium, or as unknowable or visually repulsive. The words and actions of the being in front of Menou were so hollow that it seemed like you might hear an empty echo if you flicked the outside.

It was purely, mechanically strong. Without the playfulness of Pandæmonium, not a single movement was wasted.

Before the rumbling in the floor faded, the next attack was already crashing into Menou.

She was able to just barely resist it, but nothing more.

The next attack struck her temple and nearly knocked her out. Alarmingly enough, Menou was losing track of where she was being hit. Each punch and kick left an impact on her body and mind alike, but she couldn’t tell where she was taking damage anymore.

Menou’s consciousness was quickly fading.

Her feet weren’t on the ground. Her vision was darkening. Her entire body was battered and bruised. Most likely, she was only still alive because somewhere inside the conjured soldier, Sahara only wanted to make Menou surrender.

Something grabbed Menou’s head. She felt the faint coolness of metal against her face.

Then she was lifted into the air. Her limbs dangled limply, her body swaying.

She was going to lose.

The word defeat flitted across Menou’s mind.

As she realized she was going to be defeated and die here, the first words that came to mind were I’m sorry.

It wasn’t an apology to all the people she’d killed.

Instead, she was thinking of Momo, who was always by her side, and for some reason, Akari.

Menou had never valued her life.

She was fine with the idea of dying, whenever it might happen. Since she was a murderer who went through life killing other people, it seemed wrong for her to want to live herself. So when the time came for her to die in disgrace, she felt she would be ready.

But now that the moment of her death was upon her, it was very different. She was thinking of Momo’s face as she slyly slid closer. Akari as she sat up in bed, still mostly asleep.

Not all of Menou’s time was spent killing people. She had short bursts of happiness, so trivial that no one would bother trying to share it with others.

Now that she was the one about to be killed, she finally realized something. Menou didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to let someone kill her. So she had to win.

Even if it meant she had to kill someone else.

“Ahhh…”

Warm blood trickled into Menou’s mouth. It was her own blood. The metallic taste reminded her that she was still alive.

It was a striking, revolutionary thought. In that moment, Menou resolved for the first time to kill someone else for her own sake, and she fervently wished to live.

Sahara wanted to win against Menou, wanted to kill her even if it meant giving herself up.

She must have had a good reason.

Menou, however, couldn’t just lose for her sake. She didn’t know how she could possibly win. Her rational mind whispered that there were some battles that couldn’t be won. What could she do against an enemy who seemed impervious to her attacks?

“I will destroy all bugs.”

The conjured soldier sent Guiding Force into Menou through its grip on her face.

Guiding Force: Connect—

She had a feeling she knew what was about to happen.

The Vessel was trying to possess Menou. It wanted to make Menou another host, just as it had to Sahara. The Mechanical Society of the Pure Concept of Vessel had always expanded by taking over everything around it, inorganic or otherwise.

Ever since she was blanched with white when she was young, Menou had lost the defenses around her spirit. At this rate, the enemy would flow right into her. She cursed herself for being so vulnerable to mental attacks.

Paint Over—Pure Concept [Vessel]—

The power to take over a spirit, break the body down into the three Primary Colors, and rebuild it. Was Menou about to have her spirit consumed and turn into a part of the Vessel, just like Sahara?

Just as that untimely end seemed inevitable, she had a flash of inspiration.

If the enemy was entering her spirit, then there was still something Menou could do even with her Guiding Force almost completely drained. She could use the power that still slept inside her.

But the idea was all too fleeting.

Invoke [Possession]

Part of the Pure Concept of Vessel flowed into Menou without hesitation. She felt her spirit fill from the inside and begin to drown.

That was Menou’s way of introducing herself, by striking directly against her opponent’s spirit. All kinds of scenes flowed into her mind, like junk washing up on shore. Sahara’s passions were mingled in there, too. The truth of why she was so fixated on Menou struck her square in the heart.

Her attempt to control her opponent from within herself nearly ended in a fleeting failure.

“Ah…”

But then the conjured soldier that wore Menou’s face and was trying to replace her gave a small gasp.

Confusion had overtaken the Vessel. Everything in this world could be expressed with the three Primary Colors. But since those colors were made of light, there was one color that could swallow up all of them.

That was Ivory, emptiness.

“Why is Ivory here?”

Menou’s spirit and soul couldn’t resist, yet the Pure Concept of Vessel couldn’t affect her body.

The enemy hesitated.

Menou’s arm moved. It was a reflexive reaction. Her instincts told her this was her chance and made a move toward survival. She struck with her dagger. The tip of her blade bounced fruitlessly off the conjured soldier’s temporal region. It didn’t seem to have any effect, but the grip on Menou’s face loosened and let go.

The connection was cut off.

“Hahhh!”

Dropping to the floor, Menou gasped for breath. She started inhaling and exhaling once again. Her entire body was covered in cold sweat, and her chest felt tight and painful. This was the end.

For some reason, the conjured soldier that wore Menou’s face was staring at her in fear.

Menou mentally pulled herself back together. She took control of the power that had flowed into her and been left behind.

Guiding Force: Connect—

Drawing it out from inside of her, she ejected it into her scripture.

Scripture, Chapter 13, Full Passage—

A Full Passage invocation from the scripture.

Menou took hold of the Pure Concept power that had entered her spirit, manipulated it, controlled it, and kept sending it into her scripture.

Invoke [“Why?” cried the king. The woman fell. She had taken the spear in the king’s stead. The woman said, “It is not for your sake.” The king did not understand. The woman’s blood soaked the king’s feet. “Your life is meant for the Lord.” With that, the woman passed—

The sign of the conjuring being invoked was a beautiful cup made of Guiding Light.

—away. The king wept. He did not understand. Why did the woman die? Why did he let the woman die? There was only one thing he could say for sure.

It was an empty cup, big enough to be held in both hands. A chalice. She kept releasing the Guiding Force that had seeped inside her into the cup in order to manifest its true power.

The spirit of a martyr is so precious, it is almost foolish.]

This conjuring was normally used to link a person’s Guiding Force to the earth and activate the astral vein within. The Guiding Force sank into the ground, filling the vein-less desert with an enormous amount of power. It was almost as if it was restoring the flow that had once been ripped away here.

At this rate, there would be no point. The Guiding Force would simply disperse.

But Menou was currently in the center of a conjuring circle.

Guiding Force: Auto-Connect (Conditions Met)—Desert Base, Fort Architectural Conjuring Circle—Invoke [Teleportation]

The massive amount of Guiding Force flowed into the giant conjuring circle and activated it.

That was exactly what Menou intended.

The conjuring circle was created based on two disciplines: materialogy and crestology. The pattern formed by the strategically placed buildings began to glow.

And a small hole opened up in the world.

The hole was so tiny, it was hard to believe it had been created by such a giant conjuring circle and massive amount of power. But it was linked to someplace else. The faraway land of the eastern Wild Frontier, the Mechanical Society, was connected to this hole.

In the next moment, the world creaked.

The incredibly small hole had created a dramatic reaction. Air rushed into it with a roar. The ground shook, the atmosphere trembled, and the three Primary Colors gushed out of it and overwhelmed its surroundings.

Opening a hole in the completely covered world had upset the balance of the Mechanical Society, which was maintained only by the Primary Colors.

An insane amount of power flowed out from the Mechanical Society.

“Damned…bug…”

The first to be affected was the Vessel conjured soldier standing close by the hole. The shock wave of Primary Colors, so loaded with power that it was like the world itself was caught in an avalanche, struck the conjured soldier that had Menou’s form and disintegrated it. There was no visual distinction to be made. The surging power was trying to turn everything into its own world indiscriminately. It spread out to overwrite the world as part of its own Vessel.

Menou didn’t have enough strength left to stop it.

But there was still one more person here.

Guiding Force: Connect—Royal Sword, Crest—Invoke [Slash: Expansion]

A shining blade stretched to the ceiling.

Ashuna’s attack slashed the base cleanly in half.

The physical damage to the conjuring circle destroyed its effectiveness. The connecting hole disappeared, and the world began returning to normal.

“How exhausting…” Ashuna dragged herself over and slumped down next to Menou. “I swear, it’s always like this when I’m with you.”

“That isn’t my fault.”

Menou was insulted by the implication that she was some kind of troublemaker. She was always the one who got caught up in issues other people caused and had to solve them.

She closed her eyes. Who was stirring up all this trouble, then? As her eyelids blocked out the light, she saw Akari in the darkness.

“But I do agree that was exhausting.”

She felt her consciousness slipping away.

I should go back, she thought. Someone is waiting for me. Right before she blacked out completely, she thought she heard a voice. Not Ashuna’s—someone else’s. Menou couldn’t figure out who it was before her mind drifted off.