Ishura - Volume 8 - Chapter 7

Chapter 7- Rear Guard

Iriolde’s army’s battle had been progressing with them in a dominant position.

The Aureatia army, lured out by the fungi soldiers and arriving on the scene, were being defeated one soldier after another. Their individually superior abilities and experience were not enough to overcome the difference in numbers with Iriolde’s Army, who were the first ones on the battlefield and with their morale soaring.

Iriolde’s Army truly felt like they could win.

At the very least, it had been that way at the beginning.

Surug the Double Shield hadn’t thought about losing at all, either.

Which was why his current situation had to be some mistake, a series of some sort of misfortunes.

“It hurts…”

Blood flowed from Surug’s left shoulder.

The wound hadn’t come from fighting Aureatian soldiers. In the melee, he had smashed hard into an ally, and either their armor or something else had cut open his skin. A painful gash.

Surug was probably the only one who had been able to flee from that place.

Before anyone knew it, Surug’s squad, fighting in the streets, had been surrounded.

Several soldiers were cut down in a one-sided slaughter, unsure when exactly the tide had turned.

They had fallen into a trap.

Surug was sure of this, but the vital questions of who had set them up, and what sort of trap it was, were beyond the comprehension of a young soldier like him.

“A-Aureatia’s…in danger.”

He believed he had to fight.

However, in reality, all he could do was hide in the shadow of a fruit box and tremble.

There was the sound of something crawling and tearing about.

The fungi were trampling over the street out front. Surug cowered.

The courage that had temporarily sent shivers through his body had dispersed, and like an adverse side effect, the only thing left in his gut was terror.

I don’t want to die…

There was a man in the almost entirely deserted streets.

Iriolde’s Army had been routed in this district, but as a result, a swarm of fungi were striding about like they owned the place.

“…What an awful sight.”

This man, with tanned skin and a bald head, wore round sunglasses.

Aureatia’s Twenty-Seventh Minister, Antel the Alignment, when compared to the lineup of monsters who had a home among the Twenty-Nine Officials, might not have left much of an impression.

He certainly wasn’t incompetent. He had a calm and level disposition and had no difficulty mingling with the other bureaucrats. During the Sixways Exhibition, not unlike a period of wartime, he had been skillfully carrying out the work asked of him. However, Antel’s abilities were never beyond the level of excellence seen among the common man. He possessed neither outstanding strength nor supernatural abilities.

Although he had experience serving as a periphery guard soldier, who were known for their elite skills, the reasoning behind his appointment to the Twenty-Nine Officials were his administrative skills and research into the national tax system. His appointment was relatively recent, as it happened right before the end of the demon king’s era.

Normally, his position would mean he shouldn’t have been here on the front lines.

“It’s an ugly situation, but…”

First, Antel’s group took notice of three fungi.

There was a single squad’s worth of Aureatian soldiers in the wings behind Antel. They had already cut their way through two battles after arriving in the city, and every single soldier was elite, still without suffering a single loss.

“Before we head to aid the other squads, we should make it so we can use this street first. It runs north to south with the Jeanes Iron Bridge in the middle, and it will speed up the squads’ movements.”

“Definitely,” the squad leader replied.

“Then let’s mop up this area quick.”

“No, I don’t need you guys. If Iriolde’s Army stragglers are pursuing us, they should be here soon. Watch my back.”

“Understood. All troops, determine where the blind spots from the street are and stand by! Keep an eye on the rear!”

With the squad leader’s voice behind him, Antel casually walked alone toward the fungi swarm.

Though these fungi were a new race that the Aureatia army was encountering for the first time, several of their standard tactics became clear while the soldiers fought them.

When taking on these fungi, naturally inclined to attack any heat source semiautomatically, what one needed to avoid the most was being a central target. They didn’t possess any sense of pain, nor fear. Even if a superb soldier defeated one among the swarm, they would end up crushed by the rest of the swarm that came around them at the same time. These constructs needed to always be confronted with an equal number of soldiers or more, breaking up their targets.

Right now, Antel was being encircled by twenty-four fungi.

Antel the Alignment was a civil official. Even in this moment, he hadn’t taken any fighting stance.

And yet, what was bizarre was that he carried several longswords on a wooden rack, worn on his back.

“Antel io jadwedo.” (From Antel to Jawedo steel.)

His full lips spun his Word Art very quietly.

“Laeus 2 telbode. Temoyamvista. Iusemnohain. Xaonyaji.” (Axis is second right finger. Pierce sound. Below the clouds. Rotate.)

Behind Antel, the numerous longswords spread out like a fan opening up.

Separately, a sliver flash raced through the air.

Shining objects rained down on several far-off home windows.

“Gwau—”

The muffled screams reached him, but only for a brief second.

These beams of light were longswords as well.

Launched at ultra-high speeds through Force Arts, they turned the people inside the residences into a splatter of blood.

The Iriolde army snipers that had been deployed in this region had all been experienced soldiers equipped with firearms from the Beyond, requisitioned from Kaete’s camp. Nevertheless—

“They’re using the new recruit’s disturbance to lure Aureatia’s squads into the open, then at important crossroads they have their elite troops lying in wait. As a kicker, this is all while the Aureatia army’s attention is on the fungi swarm on the ground. Not a bad strategy… Although,” Antel coldly murmured, his hands never leaving his pockets. “They made a grave miscalculation the moment they determined they could beat me in a sniper battle.”

Even before Antel ostentatiously spread out his longswords to protect himself from the fungi, he had secretly used Force Arts on the longswords meant for his true target, and made them accelerate. Determining all the positions of the enemy snipers in the single moment he used himself as bait, he drove the longswords at them with precision, accelerating to top speed in midair and faster than any of them could shoot.

Antel’s side had done just as his enemy had—narrowing their focus and luring them out. The moment a lone, defenseless Twenty-Nine Official activated his Word Arts, after stepping out on the front lines, it certainly must have looked like the perfect opportunity.

Antel the Alignment wasn’t an exceptionally outstanding individual among the Twenty-Nine Officials.

However, he was in charge of providing Force Arts backup to Aureatia’s strongest knight, Rosclay the Absolute. He was a master of long-range Force Arts, on par with all the others providing Word Arts support, one of them a self-proclaimed demon king.

While still within the realm of minia, each member was a monster of talent—that was what it meant to be one of the Twenty-Nine Officials.

“Enemy long-range fire support annihilated. All squads, advance.”

The numerous fungi closing in on the ground were trying to ingest Antel.

In Antel’s vicinity, a silver flash ran in a ring.

Six of the fungi were cleaved all at once in a straight line.

The fanned-out longswords revolved lengthwise and at an angle, mowing down the perimeter in a tempest of steel.

“Antel io jadwedo. Elcartomp. Xotehimelc. Risper.” (From Antel to Jawedo steel. Bind sinew. Dark green drill. Strike.)

One of the longswords flew out from its formation like a bullet, skewered a fungi, and then, doubling back along its flight path, it tidily returned to its place in the line of swords.

Force Arts activation that maintained the inertia of his Force Arts, and sent it in a completely different direction.

Antel had called the squad back to him not for his own protection, but to have them look through the areas hidden from the main boulevard—outside of Antel’s range—and clean up the remainders.

That said…

He turned his eyes to the alley on his right-hand side. There was one of Iriolde’s fallen soldiers, mangled from the previous attack.

The weapon from the Beyond lying next to them would likely be impossible for almost all the residents of this world to identity.

Not a simple sniper rifle… It was likely some kind of artillery with enough destructive power to sweep away a whole squad.

By no means an enemy to take lightly. Even if you know you’ll win the fight from the start, you still can’t avoid casualties.

The amount of said casualties depended on how well Antel’s group operated.

Rosclay the Absolute had done everything in his power to bring about the greatest opportunity possible.

Everyone else needed to give it their all in return.

He thought that it wasn’t worth risking his life to fight.

Ownopellal the Bone Watcher was a calm and gentle old man. Normally he pretended to be a genial old graybeard, far removed from combat, educating the children at Iznock Royal High School in scholarship and Word Arts as a first-class lecturer, while in his spare moments enjoying study and a stiff drink.

Both his position and personality suggested he wasn’t the type of man to rise up to suppress a rebelling army.

However, by the time his train car arrived in Noen Station, it was occupied by Iriolde’s private soldiers. Dragged out by himself from the train car, Ownopellal’s life was now in their grip.

“Professor Ownopellal. We want to talk.”

The woman sticking the pistol out at him was one of the rebel army’s squad leaders.

It appeared that all the citizens who had been in the station were now locked out. They had brought the single station under their control so rapidly, no one must have had any time to resist.

“Hrmmm, for just a talk…this is quite a frightening way to ask. I’m a rather timid man, so I can’t help seeing people with weapons in their hands as the bad guy…”

“Don’t worry. We, too, hold what’s best for Aureatia in our hearts. In fact, we are hoping that you’ll be willing to take part in our actions today, Professor.”

“…Do you plan to spark the flames of war…here in Aureatia?”

“It’s necessary to drive out the evil infecting our nation.”

Iriolde the Atypical Tome and Haade the Flashpoint had conspired together to use the slaying of Lucnoca the Winter as pretext to raise the flag of revolt against Aureatia. In all likelihood, things had happened exactly as Rosclay had projected.

Careful to avoid information leaks, Rosclay hadn’t laid out any more of the plan to Ownopellal the Bone Watcher. He may have been in charge of Rosclay’s Craft Arts backup, but he had already retired from the front lines.

It seems this enemy is strong. Not only does their discipline rival the regular army… those weapons must be the weapons of the Beyond I’ve heard about. I don’t know to what degree the Aureatia army has a hold on the situation, but…retaking this station’s going to be difficult.

Their intention was likely, by taking over the station, to pin down the railroad that ran north to south through Aureatia.

“Of course we won’t harm you, Professor. Please, come with us.”

“Hrm. I agree that it would be meaningless to resist at this point.”

While it may have been different were he a mighty fighter with some monstrous skills, right now, Ownopellal was surrounded by several dozen soldiers.

Each one among them held weapons of instant death in their hands, and they were very well trained. The smart option was to act obediently for the time being and wait for the perfect opportunity.

After all, Rosclay hadn’t filled Ownopellal in on the plan. It then meant that he believed that even if he didn’t, he could still come out victorious. Ownopellal’s actions didn’t figure into his strategy at all.

This fight isn’t something worth risking my life for…

Ownopellal believed Rosclay must have always had this sort of thought somewhere in the depths of his heart.

Memories of defeat, stained with bitterness, were carved into him like a wedge.

In the battle against Tiael the Crushing, he had lost all of the Word Arts soldiers under his command.

As he watched Oslow the Indominable, fighting to the bitter end to protect the Kingdom, Ownopellal chose of all things, to play dead and think only of preserving his own life.

They never had any hope of victory from the start. Perhaps his hesitation may have been born from confronting the terror of death right before his eyes.

Even then, at that moment, Ownopellal had forsaken the Kingdom.

“In that case, I suppose I will cooperate with you.”

“I’m honored that you understand our position.”

The leader smiled with relief.

She may have actually spoken the truth when she said she didn’t want to harm Ownopellal.

“By the way, do you like to study?”

“…Do you mean, study in a class at school?”

“No, no. There are so many opportunities to learn outside of the classroom as well. For example, I’ve been riding this train every day to commute to the school, but…the truth is, it’s faster to go by carriage.”

“Forgive me, Professor, but we don’t have time to stand here and chat. We’ll be escorting you from the station.”

“Ah! Could you wait just a moment?” Ownopellal said in a loud clear voice. “I’m talking to you all over there. I wouldn’t step inside that train car…if I were you.”

This wasn’t said to the female squad leader in front of him. It was for the soldiers trying to get inside the train car.

While all passengers were blocked from boarding or getting off, since they had captured the station and secured Ownopellal, the most important person on the scene, the obvious next step was to check on the remaining passengers.

“Professor Ownopellal. This is our operation. I ask you not to interfere.”

“Isn’t that rather high-handed? Since I agreed to cooperate, I would’ve gladly included myself as part of that ‘our.’ You should have heeded the warning of a teacher more carefully. Ownopellal io kouto.” (From Ownopellal to Aureatia soil.)

A concussive boom echoed from inside the train.

The soldiers attempting to step inside stopped moving out of precaution, and their leader reflexively turned to look in that direction. That one brief second was more than enough.

“Yurowastera. Vapmarisiawanwao. Sarpmorebonda.” (Reflect in the substitute. Crack in the jewel. Halted water flow.)

“Professor Ownopellal—”

The squad leader turned back and tried to pull the trigger.

“Ozno.” (Fire.)

However, from this distance, a sword was faster.

“Urg, hrnk!”

The blade, sprouting up diagonally from the stone corridor floor, had pierced the squad leader’s chest.

Expert Craft Arts, transforming a material’s structure and attacking at high speed.

The process Ownopellal used to generate the longsword was all too smooth and quiet. The other soldiers, attentions drawn to the explosion, were slightly delayed in recognizing what happened.

“Ownopellal io vollest. Lealten bogberbug.” (From Ownopellal to vollest box. Turn over and open the stomach.)

“Commander!”

“Damn you, Ownopellal the Bone Watcher!”

They couldn’t fire. At that moment, these soldiers could only verify that something strange had happened to their commander, that Ownopellal was chanting Word Arts, and nothing more.

They couldn’t see over their commander’s back to see the sword Ownopellal created. He had made the blade short enough to stop it from running the woman through. While Ownopellal’s Word Arts were strange and suspect as well, no one could understand what their implications were.

They weren’t positive that the commander had been attacked. She may still have been alive. If they fired right away, there was a chance they would hit the commander. For the rebel army, Ownopellal was an important figure they were supposed to capture, and if they mistakenly killed him, the soldier who fired the shot would have to bear responsibility.

“Nistarki. Sain min hel. Yestoloy. Qai samto…” (Light the point. Opening ocean. Angry river. When coming to the end…)

“Ownopellal, stop your Word Ar—”

Everything about the time it took to judge the situation proved fatal.

Ownopellal the Bone Watcher was a first-class instructor for the Craft Arts specialty at Iznock Royal High School.

“Histgrazia.” (Howl.)

There came a roaring sound from the train’s engine compartment, like metal being torn apart.

Behind the soldiers focusing on Ownopellal, the engine car came flying at them.

The large wurm-like mass pulverized the station platform and crushed seven of the soldiers first.

At this point, it was no longer an engine car. With its linkage to the other cars torn away and running out of control, it was now a grotesque monster, sprouting several metal legs like a centipede and driven by the flames in its internal combustion engine.

“Y-you!”

A soldier on the opposite side moved his firearm’s sights off of Ownopellal and toward the massive, monstrous threat.

In Ownopellal’s opinion, this too was a misstep. If they had shot through the commander to kill Ownopellal, they wouldn’t have died—but their instincts made them do otherwise. Ownopellal was perfectly versed in how those driven by fear would act. Including himself.

“Ownopellal io vollest. Nex hort. Thirn.” (Ownopellal to vollest box. Trickling, bubbling sand. Close.)

Even as the monstrosity struck the platform and continued to change shape, it swiftly bypassed Ownopellal on its path to mow down the remaining soldiers. Several gunshots, screams, and the wet sound of flesh being run over and crushed continued at Ownopellal’s back.

The weapons of Iriolde’s forces were indeed deadly against other people. However, it was impossible to shoot down a mass of iron closing in at high speeds, even with the assault rifles from the Beyond.

“Stop.”

The instant Ownopellal murmured this, the monster halted without running into any of the passenger cars. With his last set of Word Arts, he had altered its structure to exhaust its remaining power on the spot.

He hadn’t used the engine car to make himself a golem.

Just by using the already available internal combustion engine for power and remaking its structure with Craft Arts, he pulled off such a feat.

“Ever since the train began to run through Aureatia, I stopped commuting to work in a carriage.”

He turned to the squad leader, who was growing hazy from having her lung punctured.

“By experiencing it for myself, I was able to get a deeper understanding of its construction, for one…and by touching it directly, I can also use Craft Arts on the trains, like I did here.”

In the silence following the destructive chaos, the passengers began to fearfully exit the train.

Among the surging crowd, he spied students on their way to Iznock Royal High School.

Many among them were the children of nobility, useful as hostages for Iriolde’s Army.

“Owno…pellal!”

“Over here!”

Ignoring the commander, Ownopellal loudly called out to the students.

“There’s someone among you that used Craft Arts to make something explode, isn’t there? That’s the sound you get when you fail to shape-change properly. There’s a low-frequency sound that comes beforehand, of the material creaking.”

“Th-that was me.” A meek, petite student stepped forward. This girl was the one who caused the explosive noise. “…I failed.”

“You’re brave. Good job.”

She had attempted to fight the soldiers surrounding the train car with her sole, inexperienced weapon, all to protect her school friends.

The squad leader groaned as she collapsed against Ownopellal’s body.

“Why…resist…?”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

It wasn’t worth risking his life to fight.

It was far too late for Ownopellal himself to have any pride worth holding on to.

While he had the intention to defend Aureatia, Rosclay would undoubtedly lead the way to victory. Even if Ownopellal didn’t lift a finger.

Nevertheless, he did wish to negate the humiliation of the day he lost to the dragon.

Rosclay had managed to fight. He had continued to battle ever since.

Ownopellal wanted to prove it hadn’t actually been that way. He wanted to rebel against the heart within that tried to flee.

That was the true nature of Ownopellal the Bone Watcher, hidden behind his gentle and mild, conflict-averse behavior.

Rosclay the Absolute possessed the power to encourage not only those who knew his strength, but those who knew his weakness as well, and make them his ally.

“Why wasn’t I able to obey you, is that it? That’s one thing that I’m afraid I can’t answer… So shall tell you a different reason instead.”

Ownopellal the Bone Watcher smiled as though he was a genial, mild-mannered old man.

“I won’t let anyone get away with threatening my students.”

Tumult was a constant presence in the shopping district. This area in particular wasn’t one of the nicer and safer ones in Aureatia, either. A bar couldn’t make a living if it concerned itself with every disturbance.

This much uproar was basically a daily occurrence, and not worth acting on out of fear or a sense of impending danger—that was what Tika, working the morning shift at the Blue Beetle, was, at that moment, trying to tell himself.

Since this time of day brought in fewer customers, Tika was working alone. Given he knew that by noon there were bound to be more customers coming in, he couldn’t entrust the place to someone else and flee.

Every now and then he thought he heard a gunshot mixed in with the screams.

“Tika. What do you think that sound was?” Nane quietly whispered, leaning forward from her seat at the counter.

“Knock it off, that’s bad manners.”

“What’s the big deal? You and I are the only ones here anyway.”

“Then there’s no reason to get up close to my face, is there?”

“They might hear me outside if I’m too loud.”

Four years younger than him, Nane was too young to drink, but he would come to the Blue Beetle just to have fun with her childhood friend, Tika, even though Tika was always warning her to stop coming since it wasn’t the sort of refined establishment a young girl her age should be frequenting.

“Wonder what it is… Had to happen on the day of Rosclay’s match, too.”

“They’re causing all sorts of mayhem because they know Rosclay’s not going to come fight them. Don’t you think so? Ever since Rosclay was set up in the fourth match and got really hurt…almshouses have gotten attacked, Alus the Star Runner came…”

“…It was nice and peaceful before all that, eh?”

Ever since the end of the age of the demon king, Aureatia had never once gone to war.

While he heard stories about tense relationships with the New Principality of Lithia and the Free City of Okafu, Lithia was said to have been destroyed in a huge blaze after its wyvern soldiers went out of control, and Aureatia ultimately made peace with Okafu, on good enough terms now to allow Okafu mercenaries come and go from the city.

To the citizens, the incidents occasionally caused by the Old Kingdoms’ loyalists were a threat. However they, too, had been greatly weakened following a small-scale battle at Toghie City, and it didn’t seem like the Aureatia army would lose to them.

However, all of that was before Rosclay the Absolute was injured.

Things had been fine for a short while after the start of the Sixways Exhibition. Even though Aureatia had cited potential danger as the reason to cancel any viewings for Lucnoca’s match, there had been spectators during her first match.

It was said that during self-proclaimed demon king Alus’s assault, which claimed so many lives, several hero candidates had fought valiantly to stop the damages, but Rosclay hadn’t directly engaged Alus, either. Tika had heard that he devoted himself to leading the civilian evacuation, in spite of his serious injuries. A somewhat uncertain and precarious air hung around Aureatia as of late.

Wasn’t it now necessary to show Rosclay’s presence once more by having him in another match…?

“That’s not right.”

A young girl’s voice came from farther back inside the restaurant.

The speaker was a young girl of sixteen. She had chestnut hair and was modestly dressed in a black a sweater?

She was a mysterious young girl with a fragile and otherworldly appearance about her.

“Rosclay isn’t that strong.”

“Iska… Miss—Miss Iska! Wait, if you’re able to get up, you gotta tell me so…”

“Hold on, who’s this chick?!” Nane slammed the counter and stood up.

“It’s not me, it’s—it’s this restaurant, they’re looking after her…! She’s the daughter of Nikae, who died in the fire, so the boss, um…”

“You’re talking way too fast! Liar!”

“Ummm… If I’m interrupting, I can go back inside, but…my water pitcher was empty.”

Iska was an orphan who lost both her mother and her home in the assault by Alus the Star Runner.

Her mother was a factory worker in the second borough of the Eastern Outer Ward, but apparently she and the owner of the Blue Beetle had been trusted friends ever since their early days living in the gutter. The Blue Beetle had run an inn on the second floor up until recently, so the owner had decided to leave one of the rooms open to take in Iska now that she had been orphaned.

That said, there was no way that the owner, being who they were, would’ve done something as commendable as taking in an old friend’s kid, so Tika thought that they had actually been after the disaster relief aid from Aureatia.

“Um… Miss Iska, are you one of the types who hates Rosclay?”

“Hm? I like him.”

“What? My apologies. That comment just now made me think otherwise, is the thing…”

Tika wasn’t great at dealing with Iska. He was supposed to be the older of the two, yet he couldn’t help being extra polite with her.

Iska was a daughter of misfortune, sickly and now left orphaned, and yet she was neither subservient nor pessimistic at all.

“Who’s this, then?!”

“I just told you, she’s Miss Iska… Technically, she’s one of our customers, so don’t go being rude to her, okay? Sorry about her, Miss Iska. It’s just that Nane doesn’t really like it when Rosclay’s bad-mouthed, either.”

“Oh? Rosclay’s not what’s got her so upset, though.” Iska giggled.

Tika could tell that Nane got slightly bent out of shape again.

“Th-that’s not… That’s not true! I’m mad ’cause you said bad stuff about Rosclay! We get to live safely thanks to him, right?! I’m really sorry that you lost your mom in the fire, but it’s not good to resent his kindness and make it out like it’s his fault!”

“Don’t you think those two things are the same, though?”

Iska approached without any hesitation and sat down at the counter next to Nane.

Her hair gently fluttered, with the refreshing smell of disinfectant.

“Thinking something is thanks to someone else, and that something is someone’s fault. If you think everything that ever happens is all thanks to the work of a single champion, then what if… What happens when something doesn’t go perfectly well? You’ll end up blaming them and saying it’s their fault that they didn’t save you, right?”

“Well I’d never do that…”

“Rosclay is always saying so. Have you heard it before, Nane?” Iska spoke gently, as if reasoning with a child. “‘It is thanks to the support of Aureatia’s citizens that I’m am able to act as a champion.’ If he seems really strong and really dependable, that’s all our fault—in reality, even without him here, our power is just as strong as Rosclay the Absolute.”

Tika would often see her kind here in Aureatia.

Know-it-alls that wanted to talk like they understand Rosclay the most, what the “real” Rosclay thought, and how ignorant all the people of Aureatia were to the truth.

What was Rosclay the individual bearing such responsibility for, and what was he thinking as he conducted himself? Once someone began to consciously think about it all, they would eventually imagine whatever information they wanted in their head, regardless of the fact they knew nothing about the man’s life, and fall completely for the false image that their hopes created.

Was Iska another one of those fanatics, too?

However, her words, which seemed to disparage Rosclay’s absoluteness at first blush, also seemed to hide an even stronger trust in him. Maybe that was possible—Tika merely felt that her words did.

“All right, all right, no need to get so worked up, okay?” Tika mediated the situation with an awkward smile.

“But—eep!”

What sounded like a gunshot rang out from afar, and Nane shrunk her body like a cat.

Tika didn’t know what exactly was going on, but it was probably going to work out.

Rosclay the Absolute was a mighty knight, and always safeguarding Aureatia. They couldn’t depend on him too much, and nothing good was going to come from letting their imagination run wild. Vaguely believing in him, like Tika, was the healthy way to look at it.

“Are the two of you going to watch today’s match?”

“Hmmm, the arena’s nearby, and I’d like to if possible, but… I’m stuck looking after the place, so probably not. How about you, Iska?”

“Oh, please. I can’t afford to buy tickets.” Iska giggled and lightly stood up from the counter. “…But I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Aureatia’s Eastern Outer Ward, second borough.

Aureatia’s Twenty-First General, Tuturi the Blue Violet Foam, forcefully ground her teeth.

“We were set up…!”

Through the binoculars, she saw black smoke billowing upward. A tiny shack along the canal had exploded. A lot of the soldiers who breached the hut were fatally wounded, but that was all that happened.

Rosclay the Absolute was supposedly deceiving both camps into coming and going from the area around this hut.

Something that could potentially be Rosclay’s trump card, or weakness, was supposed to be here—this information itself had been a trap. Either that, or Rosclay had used the information they had gotten on him as a way to set them up.

“But…koff, gahak… Who benefits from this…?! Even if this lead was purposefully leaked to us, there’s no way they could’ve anticipated… No way they’d think we’d mobilize, even bringing Romzo the Star Map, just to crush this unknown variable.”

A dry cough slipped out from her throat. Her lung function was deteriorating, a lasting side effect from the battle with Lucnoca the Winter.

Rosclay was meeting with someone in the second borough of the Eastern Outer Ward. Tuturi and Romzo, along with a small part of their main force, were dispatched for preliminary reconnaissance in order to verify uncertain factors, true identities, and potential unknown dangers, then bring them to light and dispose of them before their operation began.

This meant that the dyed-in-the-wool warmonger Haade the Flashpoint had misread the situation.

If Rosclay the Absolute was able to predict and manipulate the future so effectively, then it would have signaled a supernatural ability that defied all logic, like those of a visitor. Given that Rosclay was just a regular minia, there was bound to be a logical explanation somewhere.

“This investigation, I believe—” Romzo murmured, standing next to her. In contrast to Tuturi’s own demeanor, he seemed perfectly cool and composed. “—was put together by General Haade himself, wasn’t it? As for what is supposed to be here, I haven’t heard any detailed evidence myself, but maybe you did, Tuturi.”

“Huh? Of course, I’ve heard…”

Her words cut off as she began to reply.

She hadn’t heard anything.

Haade was a brilliant commander. Ordinarily, he would have answered her if she asked for the basis behind the operation. Tuturi’s group had gone into action because it was right before Tuturi’s large-scale operation went into place, and because it was urgent. The preparations had already been arranged to mobilize Romzo out with a mixed squad of Haade’s subordinates, and this situation needed them to head into action right away. In fact, Tuturi had been given secret orders to dispose of Romzo the Star Map at some point during the chaos of the fighting. She was even thinking that this was the exact opportunity she had been waiting for.

Her trusting nature had been her undoing. Haade the Flashpoint would never have a lapse in judgment on the battlefield.

“No. It can’t be…koff, gahak, that’s not possible.”

“Tuturi.”

Romzo turned around and flashed a smile from deep behind his round glasses.

It was a dark smile.

“Romzo, you—”

Romzo’s flattened hand chop grazed Tuturi’s gut at the same moment she opened her mouth.

She staggered from the intense pain of her skin being cut open. She thought she had died.

Acute pain. It took another moment for her to then realize the sensation didn’t come with her demise. If this man intended to kill Tuturi, then he could end her life without ever showing the movements of his attack.

“Hmph.”

Tuturi tried to get a grasp on what was happening.

There was a miniature radzio in one of Romzo’s hands. He had stolen it from her, cutting through the belt at her waist.

Romzo tossed it into the canal without looking particularly interested in the device.

“Hey! What’re you trying to—”

An explosive blast echoed in the canal, as if to drown out Tuturi’s voice, and a water pillar shot up into the air.

While it was nowhere close in scale to the explosion at the shack moments prior, the weapon had more than enough power to incapacitate and seriously wound a minia.

“So, it was an explosive. Hmph. Most likely one of the bombs on a timer from the Beyond… Our equipment was set to explode almost right as we breached the shack.”

“Haade…”

The difficult-to-accept reality was thrust out in front of her.

Violence would be trampled over by even more powerful violence.

Minians needed ingenuity to fight against this cruel law of nature.

In that case, was that ingenuity then to be trampled by even sharper ingenuity?

“Romzo… Sir. Then, your radzio…”

“That’s right. I never had it turned on to begin with.”

“……”

Although he may have been an adept master of the First Party, he could have possibly been sure of this trap from the start. If it was a weapon from this world, he may have been able to detect it with his wealth of experience. However, there was no way he was thoroughly familiar with timed explosives from the Beyond.

“It truly is so very easy…Tuturi. No matter how much you may trust one another, no matter how much you may like someone, once you set your mind to it, it is far easier than one would think.”

Even if there weren’t any grounds to do so, he couldn’t help but distrust and suspect others.

If there was ever a moment when this man, reduced to a beast, unable to believe in justice or conviction, felt joy, it was only when he learned that the heart of another, impossible to fathom from the outside, was that of a beast like himself.

In other words—betraying, and being betrayed.

“Ahh… Hah-hah-hah. I’m so glad the demon king didn’t kill me.”

Romzo the Star Map smiled with glee.