Chapter 4: A Heart That Harbors a Farewell

Chapter 4: A Heart That Harbors a Farewell

A Heart That Harbors a Farewell

The heat of the bonfire warmed their cheeks while they camped out under the cold winter sky. One woman with red hair and one with black sat by the fire, listening to the crackling sparks.

Beneath the twinkling stars, one of the women casually addressed the other.

“Why are you traveling with me anyway?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The red-haired woman tried to feign ignorance at the purpose of the open-ended question. Her tone was flat and her expression blank, as they ever were.

“There’s no reason. It just happened.”

“Listen, you. Quit trying to sweep things under the rug.”

The black-haired woman glowered at her companion.

“It’s been three months since I came to this world. I know there’s more to everything than meets the eye, whether I like it or not. Especially after I’ve traveled through places like this so many times.”

They were currently in the northern Wild Frontier. They’d been exploring the ruins of the ancient civilization to retrace the “Miracle of the Moon,” the legend of Saint Marta, who was also inscribed on the five- in coin.

“You say you’re a pure and noble priestess, but I know you’re really an Executioner who hunts taboos. I’m a taboo myself, since I have a Pure Concept, so it’s strange that you didn’t kill me as soon as we met. You’ve killed plenty of other ones on this trip.”

As she addressed the red-haired woman, the black-haired one picked up a few dried branches they’d collected earlier and tossed them onto the fire, her dark locks blending in with the night sky.

The black-haired woman was an Otherworlder. She had a hunch that the way back to her own world was connected to the ancient civilization, and she devoted herself to inspecting the ruins in every Wild Frontier. Her search in the north led her to discover a communication base once linked to a military satellite. The Otherworlder used surviving materials to learn its orbit, and she used her Pure Concept to confirm that the orbital device was still active. Even a member of the Faust like the red-haired woman had never happened upon such an enormous discovery from the ancient civilization era before.

Still, it was true that the pair would typically never travel together like this.

The red-haired woman was an Executioner, and the black-haired woman was an Otherworlder.

“Yet here you are, traveling with me. Not only that, you even protected me from Genom and Kagarma. I mean, I get that it doesn’t make sense for someone in your position to hand an Otherworlder over to them, but…” She glanced up at her companion, trying to read her expression.

“Not knowing why I’m being protected makes me nervous. You know?”

Her tone was equal parts wheedling and sulky as she prodded the red-haired woman for answers.

The Executioner had accompanied the Otherworlder as she pleased, traveling this way and that, for quite a while. Deciding that she couldn’t put off explaining anymore, the Executioner coolly responded “So I can learn what guilt feels like.”

“…What? I’m gonna need a bit more than that. You realize you never explain yourself enough, right? It’s not very nice.”

The red-haired woman’s response wasn’t enough to convey her intent. Really, it wasn’t surprising, since she’d exchanged blows with people far more often than exchanging words.

She continued haltingly, searching for the words that would explain.

“Killing people is bad.”

“Right.”

“And I’m a killer. I always have been, and I’m sure I always will be. As long as people seek out taboos, I’ll keep hunting them down.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I’ve never once felt bad for killing someone.”

“That’s pretty awful, but I guess it’s how you are.”

The branches she’d thrown on the fire earlier evidently weren’t completely dry; they crackled and sparked, sending up puffs of smoke.

“You’re not being cruel or coldhearted exactly; you’re just logical. If you have a reason to kill someone, you conclude it’s the correct thing to do. Most normal humans would consider murder to be an absolute last resort, but you’re the type who chooses it as easily as you might shake their hand.”

The Otherworlder’s analysis was right on target.

The red-haired woman, taken in as an orphan from the Commons, had shown exceptional aptitude with Guiding Force and was raised as an Executioner.

Although her birth and upbringing were unremarkable for an Executioner, she knew in theory that killing was bad. However, her heart had never faltered over taking a life. She didn’t feel the pain of those she stabbed. If removing an individual was better for the sake of the world, she had no issue with removing them.

The red-haired woman’s mental capacity to prioritize reason over emotion without a second thought for the target’s humanity was even deemed the ideal nature for an Executioner by many. While some of her peers envied her, other priestesses despised her lack of compassion.

She knew countless criticisms and accusations, as well as jealousy and admiration, for her nature. It all accumulated in her mind, finally leading to a single conclusion.

“What exactly is guilt?”

The black-haired woman scrunched up her face. “It’s not fair to ask someone about an emotion. How can you explain it in words if the other person doesn’t experience it? You would need telepathy or… Oh, I know. In this world, you might be able to share someone else’s feelings if you achieved a Guiding Force connection.”

Were they to manage that, the Otherworlder could clear up the red-haired woman’s question in seconds, but a Guiding Force connection between two humans was improbable. Her companion ignored the almost nonsensical suggestion.

“Killing people is bad.”

“It is.”

“Most Executioners snap under the mental burden. When someone’s broken, they get used up and tossed aside. If being consumed by guilt is punishment for an Executioner, then I’m killing people without ever paying the price.”

“Hmm. Wait, are you worried you should be punished for your crimes or something?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

The Executioner was surprised by the black-haired woman’s doubts. To her, it seemed plain as day.

“Killing people is definitely bad,” she repeated.

It was challenging to know why it was wrong, exactly. However, because the reasoning was beyond her, she was all the more certain that killing was wrong.

She believed it far more deeply than anything written in the scripture she carried in her left hand.

“So I think I ought to be punished.”

“Oh yeah? Then you believe good should be rewarded and evil punished?”

“I don’t care about people getting rewarded. Or destroying evil or anything like that.”

The Executioner looked up at the sky as she conversed with her companion.

In the northern Wild Frontier, it was impossible to see the stars shining at night.

Instead, countless giant orbs of cloudy white liquid floated in the sky.

The blobs hid the sky from view, revolving in both day and night. Many of them floated higher and orbited around.

It was the cycle of Starhusk, one of the Four Major Human Errors.

Gazing up at the scene that was no direct threat, the Executioner quietly added, “But I do think there should be a punishment.”

As far as she knew, there was no good ending for an Executioner. They would die a dog’s death somewhere, flee to be later eliminated by one of their fellows, or have a mental breakdown and be disposed of.

The lack of salvation or ordinary happiness for those in this trade was surely justice for the sin of murder.

So what exactly should the red-haired woman’s punishment be?

She’d never wished for normal happiness.

A punishment should inflict suffering and inconvenience, and urges the guilty to reflect on and regret their actions.

After so many deaths, she’d learned of the most painful killing.

It was when you had to put down someone you were close with.

“If suffering is a punishment, then turning my blade on my first-ever friend would be a fitting retribution for the likes of me.”

If someone cowardly and underhanded like her, who didn’t experience a lick of guilt about murder, developed enough affection for someone to call them a friend…

…then killing that person, she hoped, would be the ultimate punishment that would finally break her.

She desired it and plotted it herself, and if she came to regret such an idiotic plan, so much the better.

“I won’t kill you until you become a Human Error or I feel friendship toward you.”

Hearing all this, the black-haired woman deepened her frown.

“…If you don’t mind me asking, would you hesitate to kill me right now?”

The red-haired woman stared hard at the Otherworlder. She imagined several methods to kill the other woman and explored them in her mind to determine that each was effective.

“Not in the least.”

“Well, what do you know? That’s a relief.” Despite the remark, she didn’t look relieved in the slightest. Her expression was incredibly conflicted. “Listen, you’re a murderer. You think killing people is a crime, and that crimes should be punished.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, take this, then.”

The Otherworlder offered a rolled cigarette. As the Executioner questioned the gesture with a look, the black-haired woman puffed her chest triumphantly.

“Tobacco is a passive means of suicide. Not a single good thing comes from inhaling harmful fumes. So you ought to smoke as a punishment. That’ll have to be good enough for you. If you’re going to keep piling on sins, you might as well dole out the punishment to yourself, too. It’ll build up in your body without you even knowing.”

“…Huh.”

It wasn’t half bad.

That’s how the Executioner saw it anyway. She would inhale invisible poison, letting it slowly eat away at her. The fact that she wouldn’t know how badly she’d poisoned herself was especially appealing.

She put the cigarette between her lips and lit it with the crest conjuring of a one- in coin. When she blew out smoke, the black-haired woman made a show of pinching her nose and waving the smoke away.

“…You know, I just realized. I hate cigarette smoke, so you should do that by yourself somewhere.”

Maybe I should kill her now.

The Executioner gathered inhaled smoke in her cheeks, then blew it at her companion’s face with all her might.

“Hey, stop! I reeeeally don’t like that, you know! It’s like you spat on me!”

“If it bothers you that much, why were you carrying tobacco in the first place?”

She obviously bought them as an experiment, immediately decided they weren’t for her, and kept them shoved in her pocket.

The redhead smoked the cigarette, while the black-haired woman pouted.

“I don’t intend to become a Human Error, and I hope to return to Japan… But just in case, let me tell you something, my dearest friend of this parallel world.”

“What is it?”

The Executioner puffed on her first cigarette as if it were a decades-old habit. The black-haired woman fixed her with a vengeful glare.

“If you do kill me, I swear I’ll haunt you as a ghost, got it?”

“Not much of a threat. Unlike in your world, the remains of a spirit turning into an apparition is a rare conjuring phenomenon here.”

She tapped on the cover of her scripture with her left hand.

“If you transform and haunt me, ghost or not, I’ll just exorcise you with a scripture conjuring.”

“Oh, you’re the worst! I hate you, I really do!”

This was a memory of a journey from back when she was a priestess yet to be raised to Master. In those days, the Executioner hadn’t acquired the nickname “Flare.”

Much later, she realized this was the moment sweet affection for the woman with the Pure Concept of Light and an intent to kill her took root.

Half a day had passed since the destruction of the holy land.

The region had fended off the attacking swarm of monsters, overcome the outbreak of a dragonblight, and now the holy land barrier was restored. The city was alive with pure white radiance again.

The evacuated were beginning reconstruction already. They carried scattered objects and furniture around and through the gently glowing buildings. Priestesses and nuns worked together to remove obstacles, distribute food, and so on. Unlike with the usual disaster recovery work, no structures were damaged. The holy land steadily regained its former glory, assuring all who saw it that the place of beginnings was truly indestructible.

Menou slipped in among the people who continued to work even as the sun set.

She was operating separately from Sahara and the girl who called herself Maya. Neither of them could enter the holy land, because the barrier repelled Original Sin Concepts. Menou had to act alone.

This was the aftermath of a disaster the likes of which hadn’t been seen in a thousand years. It was only natural that Menou might appear disheveled. Fortunately, word hadn’t yet spread about what she’d done. There was no sign anyone had been dispatched to find or eliminate her.

Menou wavered on whether to contact Momo after returning, but she was holding off on that decision for now.

There’d been no word from Momo, so something surely had happened to her. If her scripture had been confiscated, there was the possibility that Menou’s location could fall into enemy hands. A careless message might even implicate Momo in the destruction of the holy land.

The obvious choice for escaping the holy land was east. In fact, it was the only option. The holy land was as far west as human civilization went.

Yet when night fell, Menou made for the opposite direction.

She departed the holy land, heading west, avoiding all prying eyes.

Moving this direction from the holy land would lead Menou to the Wild Frontier, a particularly barren region of it, in fact. Menou’s goal, the coastline, was three days beyond the rocky wastes.

The only building farther west than the holy land was the monastery where Menou was raised.

Executioners, black ops agents for the Faust, were reared there. The monastery operated hidden from the world and was essentially Menou’s homeland.

No members of the Faust traveled out that way.

Upon arriving, Menou weaved between stone monuments, searching the cemetery. It wasn’t long until she spotted her quarry.

“…I figured you must’ve survived, Menou.”

The person waiting for her was a more familiar face than any other.

Master Flare.

Menou felt neither caution nor despair at the sight of her old teacher leaning on a headstone and smoking a cigarette. It only made her smile darkly, realizing she was still this woman’s apprentice.

When Master Flare left the land of salt, she took Akari’s body with her. Had she possessed a way to kill the girl, Menou would’ve been powerless to stop it. However, the link with Akari remained; she was still alive.

However, Akari was nowhere to be seen. Flare had likely hidden her.

“I was hoping you’d be resting at the monastery…”

The pair had only recently dueled. Normally, anyone would have to sleep that off. Master Flare flicked her cigarette butt away in reply to Menou’s implied question.

“You’ve still got a Guiding Force supply from her, right?”

Menou nodded. She didn’t have the energy to hide it. Her Guiding Force link with Akari remained, despite Akari becoming a Human Error. The Pure Concept had ceased eating into Menou, but she was still supplied with Guiding Force. This was one reason Menou went straight to the graveyard without hesitation.

Master Flare had guessed that Menou would trace the Guiding Force connection there, and she’d waited to intercept her.

“What in the world was that last attack?”

“An ancient relic I took control of long ago. I taught you about the concept of satellites from the ancient civilization, didn’t I? An old friend of mine messed around with one’s functions and made it so my scripture could activate it.”

“That’s quite a trump card you kept up your sleeve. Why didn’t you use it right away?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself. Were I only trying to kill you, I wouldn’t bother going that far.”

Master Flare’s final attack had been in a league of its own. She’d dropped projectiles large enough to be mistaken for moon fragments from an incredible height at tremendous velocity. The military satellite’s assault had undoubtedly obliterated the tiny island that was the land of salt. Master Flare’s comment about Akari “falling into the ocean” before she’d left was indicative of the strike’s sheer might.

The actual reason for expending that incredible weapon was obvious.

“You were after Hakua Shirakami, then? Do you think she survived a direct hit from that thing?”

“No doubt about it. That one’s no joke. Her status as the Lord is well-earned, and her Pure Concept of Ivory is the real deal. Peace has made her soft, like any Otherworlder, but she’s much too strong.” Master Flare sighed. She stomped on the cigarette to snuff the ember before continuing. “You know, I intended on using the Sword of Salt piece that you stuck in Akari Tokitou.”

“What?”

“I was going to kill Ivory , idiot. The plan was to make her think the Sword of Salt was gone, lure her out there, and finish her with the shard in the ground. I needed the Sword of Salt to eliminate her.”

“But didn’t Hakua create the Sword of Salt in the first place? Would it work on her?”

“It would. She’s absorbed too many other Pure Concepts over the past thousand years and lost the purity of Ivory . Each time she gains access to another Pure Concept, her all-important Ivory conjurings grow weaker. It’s why the Elders forced Otherworlders’ Pure Concepts to go berserk in the first place. I fully believe the Sword of Salt would work on Ivory as she is presently.”

Menou stared in quiet amazement while Master Flare went on nonchalantly.

“Listen, Menou. Thing is, I knew what you were all along. The second I saw you, after that old bag Orwell made you in an attempt to resurrect Ivory , I was sure I had a use for you. Hakua concocted several plans to create a Guiding Force connection with Akari Tokitou in expectation of her arrival, but she trusted me immediately after learning of your existence.”

Their first meeting, ten years ago.

Menou furrowed her brow. “I’m still not sure I understand… How exactly did I come to be?”

“You remember Orwell, I’m sure?”

Menou nodded, saying nothing.

She couldn’t possibly forget the archbishop who’d stooped to committing a taboo. It was nothing short of a miracle that Menou defeated such a prodigious conjuring user.

“Long ago, that old bag was a model member of the Faust. When she learned the truth, she must have been furious about the so-called Lord’s single-minded material desires. So she tried to fabricate an ideal Lord and took her first step into the taboo.”

“An ideal Lord…? But she was after eternal youth.”

“That came later down the line. Before that, she succeeded in creating a small soul after numerous conjuring experiments, and she attached it to a piece of Hakua’s flesh that she stole. Long story short, you were created from a lesser facsimile of the experiments Hakua Shirakami underwent a thousand years ago.”

Menou wasn’t surprised. At this point, she was long past the illusion that she might have been born to ordinary parents in the usual way.

“I don’t know of any other example of such a completely artificial human. Not in modern times, with our more primitive conjuring technology, anyway. Orwell intended for you, a duplicate of Hakua, to absorb a Pure Concept. She summoned an Otherworlder, put you in contact and, well, you know how that turned out.”

Menou’s memories began in a destroyed village, and she’d believed herself the only survivor. A Human Error had erased the village and her memories.

However, the opposite was true. The girl was pushed to the brink of losing control and became a Human Error because of Menou.

“At the time, you couldn’t absorb and adopt an Otherworlder’s Pure Concept. You painted over her concept entirely. That’s how much purity of concept you possessed back then.”

Menou was the source of the village’s demise. She had blanched an entire innocent settlement to nothingness. The Otherworlder standing before the young Menou hadn’t been a culprit but a victim of an experiment using Menou as the conjuring material.

“As conjuring material, you made a poor substitute for the Lord. The old bag gave up on you and turned her research toward making herself immortal like an Elder. Perhaps she intended to reign as the Lord herself.”

“So I never had a hometown in the first place.”

“Nope.”

What place had Orwell spoken of when she mentioned Menou’s hometown during their encounter in the Grisarika Kingdom, then? Menou wondered about this, but she voiced a different question.

“Why do you suppose I thought my name was ‘Menou,’ then?”

Master Flare probably knew so much because she’d been investigating Orwell ten years ago. Had Orwell instructed Flare to steal the flesh from Hakua, or was that Flare’s own decision? Regardless, Menou had met Master Flare that day.

“Beats me. I have no idea.” She sounded indifferent. “I raised you to kill you. Ivory is a nearly flawless being, but she’d be open to attack while her spirit resided in your imperfect body. After luring her to the land of salt, I intended to wait until she possessed you, then end it. I went along with all those stupid time regressions just to see that done. From the instant we met, when old Orwell made me look after you, I intended to use and dispose of you.”

It was a long-term scheme. Ten years. Perhaps more, if Akari’s time loops were included.

Master Flare had spent half her life plotting to kill Ivory .

“But you had to go and survive. Now the whole plan’s ruined.”

“Had things gone as you intended, what would’ve happened to Akari?”

“She’d be dead, probably. I’d have no reason to let her live, especially if she became a Human Error.”

I’m glad it failed, then.

Menou kept that to herself, but Master Flare undoubtedly discerned the thought and scowled.

“Now that the Sword of Salt is gone, there’s no way to kill Ivory . I certainly can’t, anyway. The Faust doesn’t know what we’ve done yet, but I’m sure Hakua will notify all the priestesses through their scriptures. We’ll be on the run.”

The pair faced each other in the graveyard.

“You ready now?”

“Yes.”

Menou had destroyed the holy land, although only temporarily, just to save Akari—her fate was obvious. Master Flare, too, would be branded a criminal for stabbing Hakua.

They were in the same boat. Since they were also formerly master and apprentice, they might very well be considered accomplices.

Before judgment was passed, they pointed their blades at each other to settle the score.

Master Flare readied her dagger first, and Menou drew hers not a moment later. Both of them moved slower than usual. They couldn’t even maintain Guiding Enhancement. Menou’s scripture was only a burden. She lacked the strength to invoke conjurings anyway.

“Couldn’t we…work together?”

“If I kill you, Hakua loses her conjuring materials to make a Guiding Force connection with Akari Tokitou.” Master Flare answered without a second thought. As always, she was perfectly logical.

“It’ll take time for Ivory to make another being like you. And given Akari Tokitou’s softness, she might never forge a Guiding Force connection with anyone again after losing her precious friend. It makes sense to let you live if killing you delays Hakua’s designs.”

When it was put that way, Menou wondered if she might better serve world peace if she slit her throat.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t just kill herself for the sake of society.

Despite sharing a goal, master and apprentice still couldn’t work together.

“You know what, Menou? I killed my own friend. And I still don’t feel any guilt or regret.”

“…”

“But you couldn’t do it to Akari Tokitou.”

“Well, I…”

“I’m sure you’ll spend the rest of your life ruing that choice. I know what an idiot you are. You’ve lamented every murder, haven’t you?”

Master Flare was right. Was she going to rebuke Menou for being too soft? Menou tried not to look away, but she couldn’t help lowering her eyelids.

“The unfairness of your decision will haunt you for all your days, and eventually, it’ll become the punishment that kills you… But it’s better that way.”

The Guiding Branches forming Master Flare’s prosthetic right leg shifted with a clunk .

“Living while enduring punishment every day…is what makes you a pure, noble, and strong villain.”

Master Flare had beaten Menou down and tried to kill her. She’d used her and revealed her intent to exploit the girl from the moment they met. Menou ought to be furious at the betrayal, despair giving way to hatred.

And yet…

Dammit.

Menou’s breaths trembled.

Hearing words of acknowledgment for her strength brought her happiness despite herself.

“Please don’t say things like that… You’ll make me lose the will to fight you.”

“Yeah, that’s the idea.”

Ahh, that makes sense.

Menou smiled. Master Flare threw back her head and laughed, her mouth wide open.

One way or another, this was the end.

Menou was nearly physically and mentally exhausted. She would never have fought in such an unfavorable condition if possible. Her dagger shook in her hand, the tip swaying.

Master Flare was at her limit, too. She’d lost the scripture that served as her partner for many years. The firepower she’d produced in the land of salt was long gone. In fact, it was all she could do to support her lost limbs. Her balance faltered, and blood was still trickling from the wound, despite her efforts to staunch it.

By pure coincidence, they were the perfect match for each other in their weakened states.

As the stars sparkled, a solemn, subdued duel began.

There was no exchange of showy moves.

No volley of words, no clash of heated emotions.

The pair fought without scripture conjurings, dagger crests, Guiding Camouflage, or Guiding Enhancement. They had played all the tricks before this battle. Now Master Flare and Menou fought at the weakest they’d ever been since becoming Executioners.

Each understood this was the final confrontation. Their lives were on the line as they crossed blades silently.

The stars shone upon the quiet meeting of daggers.

Although Menou had no way of knowing who might win, she was unafraid.

When they fought one-on-one, she gained a more profound understanding of her old teacher.

Master Flare’s spirit was neither evil nor good. It was neutral. She was logical, ruthless, but still human somehow. Compared to her, Menou lived a meandering existence, steps less certain.

Menou took her way of life thus far—unstable, insincere, always trying to move forward despite getting lost constantly along the way—and channeled it into her dagger as she fought.

Cold blades and killing intent.

Both could do nothing but cut, yet somehow they connected Menou and Master Flare.

There was a feeling of mutual understanding fundamentally different from Menou’s Guiding Force link with Akari. Such a strange sense of trust could only exist between those who’d fought. There was no pleasant sensation of melting together. No security, no warmth, no kindness.

Yet every time she dueled her master, Menou grew.

This time was no exception.

How could crossing blades lead to such profound comprehension?

It came again.

The time for their paths to intersect arrived.

Menou’s dagger thrust forward as though drawn in, and it pierced Master Flare’s chest.

It was no illusion or substitution. She felt the metal sink into solid flesh.

The sensation shook Menou to her core as surely as if it had been her first kill.

Master Flare’s arm flashed, likely using the last of her strength. She snatched away the dagger closing in on her nape.

The Guiding Branch replacement for her leg vanished. Master Flare lurched forward as a massive amount of blood oozed from the wound. This was no ploy to attack; it was merely the collapse of a dying woman.

As Master Flare fell, her forehead landed on Menou’s chest. The student tried to catch her master’s failing body, but her arms wouldn’t move. She couldn’t manage to raise her hands to stop the impact.

The warmth of life pooled around Menou’s feet, staining her boots. The blood pouring from Master Flare’s absent limb and where Menou had stabbed her formed a growing pool.

“Huh… Is that all…?”

Even as Master Flare sensed death approaching, she didn’t offer a word of fear. If anything, the sensation of life ebbing from her was downright anticlimactic.

Just as she didn’t feel any guilt even after killing a woman she thought of as a friend, she felt no despair at being slain by her apprentice and successor.

The flame of her life flickered; any terror of creeping doom passed right through it. Ultimately, no death could punish her, not even her own.

“Hey…‘Flarette.’” Master Flare called to her successor. “Now…it’s your turn…”

She used her last moments to entrust something to Menou, despite their being enemies. Master Flare felt no anguish over the loss of another’s life, and she knew no fear over losing her own, either. She had sincerely answered Menou’s questions before the battle because she expected this outcome.

Not even death could force Flare to atone, for she knew that a new successor unlike her would be born here.

Hope would not be Menou’s inheritance.

“Kill…the Lord.”

It was a curse.

Words could drive a wedge into a person’s heart without any conjuring or Guiding Force. Master Flare used her life to show Menou a way forward.

When young Menou declared that she would become an Executioner, Master Flare warned her against it.

Why had her master pushed Menou away?

Regardless, Menou still became an Executioner. What would Master Flare have done if she’d decided on a normal life?

This woman had plotted to use Menou, to betray and dispose of her. That was no lie. All had proceeded as Master Flare wished until nearly the very end.

Still, Master Flare gave Menou room to choose for herself.

Where once she had pushed the girl away, now Flare urged her forward.

“That…might just be…what saves you…”

She was assuring Menou that her path wouldn’t end here.

Master Flare raised an arm. Did she have some final trick left? Her hand hovered at a height lower than Menou’s shoulder.

Master Flare squinted at her empty fingers.

Then she opened her mouth wide and let out her final sigh.

“Ahh, I see… Bah-ha-ha… I guess nothing ever goes to plan…”

Menou heard shallow breaths.

Master Flare’s limp fingers caught on the buckle around Menou’s lower chest. It came undone with a clink . The white belt and the metal emblem of the Faust fell away, hitting the ground.

Menou’s eyes followed the objects, though she had no intention of picking them up. Suddenly, she realized why Master Flare’s hand had stopped at that height.

Back when they traveled together, Menou stood as high as the buckle around Master Flare’s priestess robes.

Menou’s chest grew unbearably tight. Finally, she could move her arms again. She wrapped them tight around Master Flare to hold her up, clinging like a child.

“So long…Menou……”

Those were her last words.

Menou no longer heard the woman’s heartbeat.

Her master was dead.

She never showed any weakness in front of Menou.