Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 6 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Sun Also Rises

The tenth day of the second month of Imperial Year 1024

The imperial capital of Cladius

A host of riders galloped through sun-drenched streets beneath a clear, blue sky. On their banners fluttered a lily on a crimson field—the livery of the sixth princess. Liz and her small group of bodyguards had returned to the imperial capital.

Citizens by the roadside spun around as she passed, but she was already gone by the time they turned to look. The thunder of horseshoes echoed through the streets behind her, although even that faded once she reached the palace.

She leaped down from her saddle and approached the entrance on foot. The doors swung open as she approached, and a familiar figure emerged.

“Rosa!” she cried.

“My dear little sister. How glad I am to see you safe and sound.” Rosa spread her arms wide.

Liz plunged into her embrace without hesitation. “I thought you’d gone back to the east!” she said, gazing up at her sister.

“Well...things happened.” Rosa averted her gaze, scratching her cheek awkwardly.

Liz drew back, narrowing her eyes. “The head of House Muzuk told me what Hiro’s been up to.”

“Did he? Then I suppose there’s no more need to hide it.” Rosa looked skyward, heaving an exhausted sigh. When she spoke again, her voice was flat and businesslike. “Everything you heard was true. Please believe me when I say I’m sorry I lied. You must understand, it was all to seat you on the throne.”

“But why—” Liz rounded on her sister, but stopped as she saw Rosa holding out a letter. She frowned. “What’s this?”

“It’s for you. My darling left it in my keeping.”

With a choked gasp, Liz snatched the envelope.

Rosa flashed a wry grin and looked around. “Is Garda not with you?” she asked, but Liz was too engrossed in the letter to hear. She smiled again, this time a little more strained than the last.

Tris approached, overhearing the conversation. “The Crow Legion will arrive with the Fourth, my lady. House Muzuk’s men too.”

“Oh?” Rosa’s eyebrow rose. “You persuaded them to lend us their troops?”

“Aye, well enough. They’ll be in the capital inside of a week.”

“Soldiers have been filtering in from the other territories too. Soon, we’ll be ready to strike back.”

Rosa gave Liz a congratulatory pat on the head, but Liz was too absorbed in the letter to notice. Rosa withdrew her hand and pulled out a second letter.

“I had hoped to give this to Garda sooner rather than later...” She trailed off with a shake of her head. No point in rushing things. “Oh, of course! You must be starvi— Hey!”

Her lovely eyes flew wide as her words caught in her throat. Liz had vanished. She looked around frantically to see her sister about to climb back into the saddle.

“Stop right there! Where do you think you’re going?!”

For Rosa to raise her voice was rare enough, but that didn’t stop Liz from turning her horse about and setting off back down the street.

“Sir Tarmier! Stop her!”

“Aye, my lady! Hold, Your Highness!”

The pair took off after Liz, but their legs were no match for a horse’s. The gap between them widened by the second. Rosa shouted after her sister as she ran, but Liz stubbornly ignored her.

“Does she mean to ride west all by herself?! Curses... We have to stop her, by force if need be!”

Rosa slowed to a halt with an irritated click of her tongue. Realizing that she wasn’t going to catch up, she mentally began making arrangements to send a unit of soldiers after her sister. Fortunately, that soon proved unnecessary.

“Is that...Selene?”

The second prince strode leisurely out in front of Liz’s galloping horse and spread his arms wide.

The blood drained from Rosa’s face. “Does he mean to stop her? He’ll get himself killed!”

Liz showed no sign of reducing her speed, and Selene seemed to have no intention of ceding the road. A premonition of tragedy flashed through Rosa’s mind, but there was no stopping it now. Even as she watched in horror, the distance between them was closing.

The collision came. An enormous plume of dust rose up, obscuring the aftermath.

“Liz! Selene!”

As Rosa dashed in a panic toward the scene, a gust of wind blew the dust away. The sight it revealed was not what she had expected. Selene had not been ridden down. Quite the contrary—he was pinning Liz to the ground as she groaned in pain. Her riderless horse looked around in bemusement, whickering anxiously.

Confusion flooded Rosa’s chest, but for the time being, all that mattered was that Liz had been stopped. She breathed a sigh of relief and walked toward the duo. As she came closer, snatches of their voices carried to her on the wind.

“Forgive me for getting a little rough. I didn’t want to hurt your horse.”

“Selene? But...why?”

“I should be asking you the same thing. Now is the time to wait for the empire’s nobles to gather, not go charging off alone.”

Liz strained to break free, but Selene didn’t budge an inch.

“Why can’t I...?!”

She looked dumbfounded, and with good reason. With her physical strength bolstered by Lævateinn’s Graal, Selene should have been no stronger than a baby to her, but no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t shake his grip.

“Get off me! I have to go!”

He smiled gently. “I’m sure you must be frustrated, but let’s calm down a little, shall we?”

As Liz fixed him with a glare, she caught sight of Hiro’s letter fluttering in the wind. “How could I calm down?! Let me go!” Tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to hold them back, but it was no use. Hot, wet droplets trickled down her cheeks to seep into the earth. “Please... I’m begging you... I have to go west...”

Selene’s eyes softened sadly as he watched his sister plead. “I fear I can’t do that. Otherwise, I would be letting his resolve go to waste.”

“Good! I don’t care about his dumb resolve!”

“I know you’re not in your right mind, so I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. But at the moment, the best thing we can do—the only thing we can do—is bide our time until our forces are assembled.”

“But if we sit here and do nothing, he’ll die! We can’t let him go through with this stupid scheme!”

The rage radiating from Liz swelled in intensity. Strain began to show on Selene’s face as she grew stronger in his grip, but he kept her pressed against the ground with all his might.

“Is that truly what his letter said?” he asked.

Liz nodded hesitantly. At that moment, a shadow fell over the pair of them.

“Liz...” Rosa said, leaning down to brush her sister’s cheek. “You must respect his decision.”

“How can you say that?! Why didn’t you stop him?!”

“Even if I could have, the capital would now be surrounded by two hundred thousand men.”

Considering the speed of Six Kingdoms’ assault, it was hard to fault her claim. The capital falling under siege would have dramatically undermined its authority. Reinforcements arriving from other territories would have been left with nowhere to go, and the empire would have crumbled. Nobles would have turned traitor to defend their own interests and defected to other nations. Indeed, a recent investigation had uncovered connections between Six Kingdoms and many of the central nobles. Such ties had always existed through House Krone, but they had been strengthened by Stovell.

“My darling rides forth to flush the traitors out,” Rosa explained. “They cannot be properly dealt with until they are forced out into the light. He hopes that if he shows them weakness, they will take the bait.”

“But I still don’t understand why he has to do this himself.” Now that she had lost the will to fight back, Liz sat forlornly on the ground, released from Selene’s grip.

“He is the best qualified. To the enemy, the War God’s scion presents an ideal opportunity to make their names. To the traitor nobles, he is a thorn in their side whom they cannot easily attack through political avenues. That is why he made himself bait.”

“That’s not fair. It’s not right. He doesn’t have to do this.” Liz’s eyes were red and swollen.

“I know. Believe me, I know, but all we can do now is trust his judgment.” Rosa wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “Fear not. He will return alive, I know it. He’ll come sauntering back like he always does, just wait and see. Don’t place any stock in that letter. It’s nothing more than wicked mischief.” She sounded as though she was trying to convince herself just as much as Liz.

Left on the sidelines, Selene watched their conversation. “Mischief?” He cocked his head and frowned at her choice of words, but quickly covered up the expression with a smile. “Return to your chambers and get some sleep. You’ve had a hard journey. You must be exhausted.”

“He’s right,” Rosa added. “Go. Rest. We can speak later.”

Liz headed off mutely toward the palace, ushered away by her sister. Her footsteps were heavy and uncertain, and she looked so frail that she might collapse at any moment. With a bow to Selene, Tris set off after them.

The second prince waved as he watched the trio depart. “Something about this sticks in my throat...but what?” He cocked his head and racked his brains, but no answer was forthcoming. With a defeated sigh, he drew closer to Liz’s riderless horse. “Drix, are you there?”

“I am, Your Highness.” Drix melted out of the beast’s shadow, having been concealed from sight behind its body.

Selene did not seem especially surprised by the man’s presence. He patted the horse’s neck affectionately. “Have you received anything from Hiro?” he murmured, as though talking to himself.

“A letter, Your Highness.”

A brown envelope slid across the ground and came to rest at Selene’s feet. He stooped and palmed it under the guise of picking up the reins.

“Does Uncle know of this?”

Inside the envelope was a single sheet of paper, brief and to the point.

“He is aware,” Drix replied. “I informed him myself.”

“Oh? Then I assume he’s read the contents. He always has been a terrible snoop. Did he have anything to say?”

The look of hesitation that crossed the other man’s face was brief but significant. “He sent word to all parties to set his plans in motion.”

“That does sound like him, but... Hmm.” Selene cocked his head as he peered at Hiro’s letter. “How curious.”

“May I ask what you mean, Your Highness? I saw nothing out of place myself.”

“I can’t say for certain. Just a bad feeling, nothing more.” With a shrug, Selene began leading the horse back to the palace. “Now, I ought to see about meeting with my uncle. I worry that these schemes of his risk destabilizing the north.”

“Surely he would never...”

A threatening glance from Selene stopped the sentence dead. Drix stood bolt upright, forgetting entirely to keep himself hidden as the second prince’s right eye gleamed golden. In short order, his legs gave out and he collapsed onto his behind.

“Wha...? Ghhk!”

He began to squirm, clutching at his throat. His face reddened, as though he was struggling to breathe.

“Do excuse my temper. But consider this a warning. The next time you get ahead of yourself, I really will kill you.”

Selene gave Drix a friendly pat on the shoulder. The gesture seemed to release the man from his torment, and he hungrily gulped down air. Sweat poured from his forehead to soak into the ground.

Selene set off walking, reading over Hiro’s letter again. A frown creased his brow. “‘All is one.’ If this is so, then Uncle must be...”

The sun grew low and the wind blew bitterly, its edge cutting to the bone.

＊＊＊＊＊

The Laryx Plains, in the northwest of the western territories

The world was shrouded in darkness. Clouds covered the sky, blotting out the twinkling of the stars. The moon’s light did not reach the ground, leaving only a chill wind to color the night.

Hiro’s camp traced out a circle on the plain. Owing to the cold, there was not a soldier to be seen who was not on watch. The crunch of the patrols’ footsteps and the clattering of their armor carried far on a night so quiet.

The sentry looked up from blowing on his hands as one such patrol approached, and snapped into a salute. The patrol returned the greeting as they passed by, eyes sweeping the darkness for anything out of the ordinary. The sentry let out a sigh as they walked away. As he did, he noticed a figure approaching.

“Has everybody arrived?” Orlean von Maruk asked.

The sentry cast a glance over his shoulder. “Yes, my lord. They await within.”

With a nod of satisfaction, von Maruk strode forward. The sentry hurriedly pulled back the tent flap and von Maruk passed through without a word of thanks. Warm air enfolded him as he entered the tent. Somebody must have brought a heater in, although the large number of human bodies probably accounted for a great deal of warmth as well.

“Gentlemen, thank you all for coming.”

The nobles had been seated around the map in the center of the tent, but they rose to their feet as he announced his presence. There were eight in total, all having sworn their loyalty to him.

“I was surprised to be called upon at this late hour,” one said.

Von Maruk handed the man his coat and walked toward the head of the table. “Forgive me. Our preparations are complete, and I wanted to let you know as soon as possible.”

“Have we not made ourselves too conspicuous, meeting in this way? What if Lord Hiro begins to suspect us?”

“That will not be a concern. I took the liberty of making some adjustments to the patrol schedule. They should be scarcely present at this time of night. Besides, few men will be willing to venture outside in this cold.” Von Maruk collapsed into his chair, bracing his left arm on the armrest to prop up his cheek. He raised his right hand. “At ease.”

The nobles took their cue to sit back down. Once all were settled, von Maruk spoke again.

“You’ll forgive me if I omit the pleasantries. I understand that some of you may harbor doubts, so allow me to say this plainly: Our plans proceed apace. Lord Hiro suspects nothing.”

The confidence in his words prompted sighs of relief from the nobles. Delighted smiles spread across their faces, as though they had just won a great victory.

“What say our collaborators?” one asked.

“Fear not. We remain in contact, and their response has been favorable. There will be no harm in biding our time. First Prince Stovell is with them, after all.”

“Then we must act cautiously. If our plans should be discovered now, all will be dust on the wind.”

Von Maruk nodded. There was sense in the man’s words.

The noble’s face quickly turned hesitant, however. “If I had one concern,” he continued, “it would be about our positions. Is it truly wise to trust in a verbal agreement?”

“I understand your reservations, but as I say, First Prince Stovell is with them. He will be our guarantee. The Grantzian Empire may fall, but our lands will be left unharmed—provided we cooperate.”

“But they are asking us to deliver Lord Hiro’s head. He commands tremendous popularity among the citizenry. Even your own people adore him, do they not?” The nobleman looked around the table for agreement. The rest of the assembly nodded, albeit reluctantly. “If they learn that we’ve betrayed him, they might chase us out of our own lands.”

In essence, his point was that Six Kingdoms would have them over a barrel. In times of peace, the nobility often treated their subjects no better than slaves, but in wartime, they had to be more careful in light of the threat of armed uprising. If rumors began to circulate that they had crossed an enormously popular prince and defected to Six Kingdoms, their downfall would be assured.

“Six Kingdoms will do no such thing,” von Maruk replied after some hesitation. “Their priority will be undisrupted governance.”

“By all rights, we ought to be laying siege to the capital by now,” another noble remarked. A crestfallen silence descended over the table.

“I was glad to see that decrepit old fool Brius von Krone dead, but not so much anything that followed,” said von Maruk. “I never imagined Lord Hiro might triumph over the rebel army. He truly has a talent for interfering with our plans.”

That had necessitated some revisions. If the rebel army had held out a little longer, Six Kingdoms would have been able to sweep into the central territories with no resistance, shattering the rebels and imperial capital alike.

“Well, after tomorrow’s battle, he will meddle no more.”

The confrontation would not last long. Thankfully, Hiro had volunteered to lead from the front. The foundations had been laid for the rest of the army’s surrender following his death. When the fighting was over, the nobles would return home in defeat, only to defect to the enemy once Six Kingdoms invaded the central territories—it would break their hearts, of course, but anything to keep their people safe. Finally, after they took the capital, their shame would be erased and their names would go down in history attached to a historic feat of conquest.

“But does the War God’s blood not run in Lord Hiro’s veins? Will killing him not curse us all? I fear inviting the Spirit King’s wrath.”

The one to voice such pathetic concerns was Lord von Kirschia, ruler of Severt. His father had surrendered to Six Kingdoms, only to be relieved of his head for impertinence during a meeting with their leaders. The Second Punitive Legion had attacked his hometown, intending to make an example of it, and only the timely intervention of the imperial military had saved him. It seemed that Six Kingdoms had foreseen even that, however; not long after, he had followed in his father’s footsteps by switching allegiances to ensure his own safety.

“There will be no curse. First Prince Stovell was quite clear. The gods are powerless. What have we to fear? Tomorrow, we will flee the field and deliver Lord Hiro’s head to Six Kingdoms, and that will be the end of it.” Von Maruk struck the table in anger, making von Kirschia jump in his seat. “Surely you cannot have come so far only to falter now!”

“N-No, my lord, that is not what I—”

“Listen well. If you value your future, siding with Six Kingdoms is the wise man’s choice.” Von Maruk struck the table again, prompting von Kirschia to look at the map. “Think of it as using them. By playing along, we will secure the central territories for ourselves. And that will only be the beginning. With their backing, the east, the north, and the south will fall before us. We will be the new rulers of the Grantzian Empire.”

“I-I understand, my lord,” von Kirschia stammered. “Forgive me. I see now that my question was foolish.”

Another noble wrapped an arm around the quailing man’s shoulders. “He is not to blame, my lord. He has only just succeeded his father’s seat. You mustn’t be too harsh on him.”

“Indeed.” Von Maruk inclined his head. “Please excuse me. You must understand that I speak only out of concern for your people.”

“No, I was the one at fault. My comment was not needed.”

“Then we’re all agreed! You were both at fault.” The nobleman leaning on von Kirschia’s shoulders grinned. “Now we can—”

He abruptly pitched over backward.

The minds of everybody present froze, struggling to process what had just occurred. A crimson stain spread over the map. A severed head rolled across it, still smiling.

Von Kirschia vomited as the head’s severed stump came into view. The rest of the nobles stared in blank surprise, while von Maruk rose to his feet, stupefied.

“Well, well. What a lively conversation you’re all having.”

A flat voice cut through the astonishment hanging in the air. The nobles’ spines ran cold at the sound—there was not an ounce of emotion in it. They spun as one to look at the entrance.

“I received a tip-off from an anonymous benefactor. They said some nice, fat livestock had convened in one of my tents.”

Black hair, black eyes, a soft face that looked too young for his years without its customary eyepatch. Yet Hiro’s ghastly smile gave the lie to any trace of kindness in his features. He stood entirely at ease. Jaws dropped at his nonchalance.

“I’ve come to slaughter them myself before they can get away. Every cut of meat is precious on the march.” His voice dripped with amusement. With a glance at von Kirschia, he soundlessly stepped forward. “The meeting that will bring down the empire... What a historic event. You wouldn’t leave me out, would you?”

“Someone, call the sentry—” The nobleman’s head hit the ground before the rest of his sentence left his lips. A dull thump sounded through the tent, like a sandbag being hit with a stick, as his decapitated body collapsed.

“Here’s your sentry.”

A fresh head landed on the table. The soldier’s mouth was frozen in a rigid smile, as though he had been killed before he knew what was happening.

“No bleating from the sheep. Speak another word and I won’t hesitate to cut off your head.” Hiro set a finger to his lips and adopted a serene smile, although the expression only looked uncanny when it didn’t reach his eyes.

The nobles froze in terror. They could not have spoken a word if they had tried.

Hiro gave an approving nod and walked up to von Maruk. “Good evening, Orlean. How have you been?”

Von Maruk blanched. “How long have you known?” he stammered.

Hiro set a finger to his chin. A second passed, and then a wide smirk spread across his face. “From the start, of course. You did exactly what I expected at every turn. It took everything I had not to laugh.” He patted von Maruk on the shoulder. “Naming you my vice-commander... Turning to the central nobles in the first place... It was all to bring about this moment.”

With every word Hiro spoke, von Maruk’s expression morphed from confusion to bitter understanding. He ground his teeth.

“Outwitting your half-baked schemes was child’s play.” Hiro circled around behind von Maruk’s back and cast his gaze over the rest of the nobles, his smile widening. “But there is still one way your lives might be spared.”

“And what is that?” von Maruk asked hesitantly.

“Something I’ll need your help with.”

Hiro extended his right arm. A rent appeared in empty space and extruded the hilt of a sword. It was no spirit weapon. Rather, it was a curved blade of the kind favored by the people of the south, although it hardly looked fit for use—it was rusted over and caked with dirt. The cutting edge was chipped like the blade of a saw, and it looked so battered that it might break with any impact.

“Try to grit your teeth.” Without a moment’s hesitation, he plunged the rusted blade into von Maruk’s shoulder.

“Gyaa— Mmph!”

As soon as the man opened his mouth to scream, Hiro covered it with a hand. Von Maruk struggled, but he did not move an inch. A blast of raw hostility told the remaining nobles that if they called for help, they were dead men. They cowered in fear, their teeth chattering.

“I’m going to torture Orlean now. If he manages to tell me anything useful, I’ll let your little plot slide. Otherwise, once he’s dead, I’ll move on to the rest of you, one by one.”

Globules of flesh clung to the sword’s chipped blade as Hiro withdrew it.

“Tell me, have you ever heard of tetanus?”

Tears filled von Maruk’s eyes at the word. He started to tremble.

“This sword is a little something I acquired from the third prince of Lichtein. I call it Beil’s Measure. The mortality rate of tetanus is fifty percent, you see—it puts its victims on the scales. Quite a clever name, don’t you think? Although maybe that’s not very important to you right now.” Hiro brought his mouth up to von Maruk’s ear. “I’m going to take my hand off your mouth now, but if you make a squeak without my say-so, I’ll cut off your right arm. I’d prefer not to have to do that. As you can see, this isn’t the most durable of swords.”

Hiro took his hand away from von Maruk’s mouth. The man clenched his teeth so hard that blood ran down his lips, but he endured, stamping his feet against the ground to try and distract from the agony.

“Oh, I should mention,” Hiro whispered, “I don’t need you for my plans. Only von Kirschia.”

Von Maruk stiffened, forgetting about the pain for a moment. “Surely you cannot mean—”

Hiro clamped a hand over his mouth again. “Oh dear. I never said you could speak. One arm down, I’m afraid.”

The night was short tonight. He didn’t have the time to torture everybody in the tent.

I have to get started soon, or I won’t make it in time.

He put Beil’s Measure to work, hoping that it would not be long before somebody broke.

＊＊＊＊＊

At the same time, final preparations for the following day’s confrontation were underway in Six Kingdoms’ camp. Two women and one man sat inside the command tent at the camp’s center.

“No word has come from the head of House Maruk. Perhaps his schemes have been discovered.” Luka frowned. Beside her, Igel bit his nails in frustration.

By contrast, Lucia’s smile was brimming with confidence. “That is no great matter. I have spun many plans. The failure of one will not lose the battle. How fares the reorganization of our forces?”

“Fine, so long as everything goes to plan. But if the enemy knows where to stick a wedge, we could find ourselves in deep shit.”

Igel tossed a report across the table. As all three had suspected, fully reforming the army in such a short span of time had proven impossible. The report, now in Lucia’s hand, explained that the seams were beginning to show. Taking the time to avoid friction between nations was probably to blame. The six powers that made up Six Kingdoms might have been allies for many years, but that did not make them friends; currently, they were vying with one another for rulership of the region known as Klym.

The kingdoms of Anguis and Vulpes were on notably bad terms. Once, in the age of the king before last, they had been close allies—a bond commonly reaffirmed by marriages between noble families. The king had passed away, however, and the Vulpes siblings had been robbed of the throne they were supposed to inherit. If not for that, the alliance would have remained intact, but the previous and current rulers had destroyed in two generations what had taken centuries to build. Now, relations between the kingdoms were tense.

The same situation was mirrored elsewhere. With such a large-scale offensive, it was inevitable that some would refuse to take orders from a commander of this or that kingdom; that was why the army had been divided into different divisions to start with. By assigning them different roles in the high king’s name, conflict had been avoided.

“A trifling concern. Indeed, ’tis necessary to draw the War God out.”

Some form of weakness was required to convince the enemy that he could win. If they wanted to lure him into organically believing the balance of war favored him, they could not let him suspect their hand on the scales. Otherwise, he would fall back.

“And he has taken the bait. If no word has come from the head of House Maruk, all the better. That will only quicken the poison’s passage through his blood.”

For Lucia, who wanted his head, the War God’s coming was cause for celebration, but the Vulpes siblings did not share her joy.

“Or he has drawn it out to use against us.” Luka pulled a displeased face. “I would have preferred that we allowed the punitive legions to continue their work and secured our hold over the western territories.”

Despite Luka’s objections, Lucia knew that leaving the punitive legions to ravage the imperial lands would have risked prolonging the war. The western nobles had surrendered, but they had not pledged their loyalty. They would turn on Six Kingdoms the instant the empire launched its counteroffensive. The Punitive Army’s invasion had seized the initiative, but ever since the War God’s scion had ridden forth, they had been slipping onto the back foot—a fact that seemed to be lost on the Vulpes siblings.

Truly, “magnificent” is the only word. With a mere twenty thousand, he rekindled hope in the western nobles’ hearts. Had we not withdrawn, this war would have dragged out interminably.

In war, speed was the key—seizing victory before the enemy could muster an effective resistance. Hiro’s offensive had blunted Six Kingdoms’ momentum. The Second Punitive Legion had been a necessary sacrifice to bring things back on track. It was a small loss for the sake of a greater gain; a victory scored in view of the bigger picture would turn the tide of war far more decisively than on one battlefield.

And besides, I have little interest in winning territory.

That was the fundamental difference between Lucia and the Vulpes siblings. Six Kingdoms had not expanded its borders in more than four hundred years. None of the kingdoms had the capacity to manage annexed land. They might be able to conquer the western territories, but they did not have the experience to rule them effectively. More to the point, laying claim to the west would only invite problems dividing it with the other kingdoms, and that was to say nothing of the question of Faerzen. Lucia intended to avoid such irksome matters if she could.

For now, I shall watch and wait.

Some kingdoms would succeed in ruling, while others would fail. First, she would observe the successes and make a note of their practices. Then it would be child’s play to carve away a portion of the western territories from the other kingdoms and take it for herself. For now, it was better to focus on the prize at hand: the glory of killing Mars’s scion.

“The empire’s military will be far lesser once the Lord of Eld is slain. Still, if we do not eliminate its best minds where we can, soon it shall be we who are hard-pressed.”

The empire might have grown old and rotten, but it was still the empire. Its land, resources, and military strength were orders of magnitude greater than any other nation could boast. Six Kingdoms had managed to create its current advantage by attacking too quickly to respond to, but the empire was not guaranteed to stay on the back foot forever. Odds were high that it would soon strike back with greater numbers. With the question of supplies still unresolved, Six Kingdoms could not afford for the war to drag out. That would mean guaranteed defeat, expulsion from the western territories, and a shameful march back home with nothing to show but enormous losses.

Then we shall need to find a point of compromise.

A show of strength was required to ensure that potential negotiations went favorably. As a queen responsible for her kingdom’s stability, she had to consider the grander picture—not only victory, but also the possibility of defeat.

“The man is Mars’s own blood. His value is incalculable. Defeating him will be more than enough to earn the high king’s favor. Who knows? You may even be able to wrest your throne back from the witch who stole it.”

“If you do not claim all the glory for yourself.”

“Oh? Is that mistrust I hear? Did we not play together as babes? Did we not grow up side by side?”

“We were both more innocent then. More trusting of others, as children are. But now that I have grown, I know to treat serpents with due caution.”

Luka was not mincing words. Lucia shrugged but did not refute the barb. Sparks crackled between them. Igel, caught in the middle, looked pointedly at the table.

Silence fell over the tent for a while. In the end, it was Lucia who broke it, slapping her fan into her palm with a sharp smack.

“Then you may claim the Lord of Eld’s head for yourself. You have my trust, even if I do not have yours. Does that satisfy you?”

“Do you truly mean that?”

“If it will set your mind at ease, where’s the harm? Let the glory be shared.”

Smiles spread across the Vulpes siblings’ faces.

“Very well. In that case, I have no objection to our current strategy.”

“If Luka’s happy, so am I.”

“Excellent. Then there is nothing more to be said. Return to your beds and rest. Tomorrow, you shall take the head of the Lord of Eld.”

“And where will you be in all of this?” Luka asked.

“I will make myself a target to draw him out.” Lucia spread her fan wide and smiled.

Luka cocked her head dubiously. “You would have us fight alone?”

“If you seem hard-pressed, I could see my way to lending a little assistance.”

Luka’s expression visibly stiffened—Lucia was all but nakedly declaring that she was plotting to use them for her own ends. She stood, knocking her chair to the floor with a clatter. “Those are the words of a leech. One who means to take the credit for herself.”

The crimson flame of anger burned in her eyes, but suddenly...

“You stay out of this, Your Majesty.”

The fire dissipated. “Igel? What are you—”

“Shut it, sis!” Igel thrust an arm out to silence Luka. “It’ll be us who take the War God’s head. The Vulpes siblings. And we’ll go home in glory. That’s all that matters.” He turned away and stomped toward the exit, making no attempt to disguise his anger.

“Igel! Stop right there! What in the world has gotten into you?!”

Luka chased after her brother, confusion written on her face. Igel’s sudden turn clearly had her at a loss. It was rare for him to defy his sister’s will. The anxiety that he had turned against her drove any thoughts of anger from her mind, and she ran out of the tent like a child desperately pursuing their parents.

Lucia chuckled to herself. “Whatever would you do without one another?”

Since being cheated out of their throne, the Vulpes siblings had lived in conflict with the adults around them. Once stripped of their authority, even those of royal blood were nothing more than playthings for nobles. All of the humiliation the nobles had suffered and the resentment they had accumulated was taken out on the pair.

“My, but how the light had left Luka’s eyes...”

Lucia had taken pity on them and, with an appeal to the high king, seen them recognized as royalty once more. They had been able to lead normal lives again, albeit at the foot of a table they had once ruled. However, while they had quickly won fame thanks to their natural talents, they were yet to achieve their dream of reclaiming their throne.

“Mayhap ’twould be kinder if they never did.”

Their dream was destined to go unrealized. The woman they faced was closest to the high king and wielded her power with impunity; the gulf between them was too wide for determination alone to bridge.

Lucia’s teeth ground bitterly. “But they will make good enough pawns for my ambitions.”

The title of queen carried an obligation to use whomever she could. Ruling was not a charitable enterprise. The good of the nation always had to take precedence, even over personal sympathies. If one was not prepared to harden their heart and sacrifice even their closest relatives, they were not fit to wear the crown.

“Your shortcomings are too many. ’Tis unwise to wear your hearts so openly on your sleeves.”

The Vulpes siblings were utterly dependent on one another. Either’s heart would break without the other. That was their greatest weakness as commanders. But there was no room for sentiment in war: it was kill or be killed.

“’Tis hardly rare for soldiers to fall shielding loved ones from their fate.”

Such stories shone all the brighter for their blood-soaked backdrop, making ready fodder for wartime propaganda. Then, once the fighting was done, it was easy enough to extol their subjects as saints and see that their names went down in history.

“Will they leave behind an ugly reality or a beautiful legend?”

She would see that they had the choice, at least.

“Either way, ’twill be as my pawns.”

What truly tragic lives they led. How pitiful, to be born as royals only to die as puppets.

“And as for the one who remains... I can hardly wait to see how they fare.”

Lucia spread her fan wide and turned her eyes to the heavens, smirking all the while.

＊＊＊＊＊

The eleventh day of the second month of Imperial Year 1024

The Laryx Plains, in the west of the western territories

Day swept night from the sky. The sun glittered like a kaleidoscope as it rose in the east, bathing the world in vibrant hues. White clouds dotted a sky of royal blue. Yet while the heavens were calm, a shroud of ferocity hung low over the earth. A black dragon sigil rose highest among a churning sea of banners. Lusty battle cries split the air. Soldiers raised their weapons high and bellowed praise of their nation to the sky, trying to intimidate the enemy with their zeal.

The core of Six Kingdoms’ forces had taken up position not far away, overlooking the battlefield. Lucia and the Vulpes siblings had gathered in the makeshift command tent erected in the center, along with the various leaders and aides of the army’s constituent kingdoms.

Lucia reclined upon an ostentatious bed laid at the head of the table. She plucked an apple from the basin by her hand and bit into it. “They sound awfully spirited this morning.”

The mouth of the tent burst open, providing a momentary glimpse of the battlefield. A chill wind tousled her hair. The hostility radiating from their foes sapped the warmth from her bones.

“All units are ready, Your Majesty,” the messenger announced.

“Splendid. Sound the horns. We shall encircle the enemy and annihilate them.”

They had one hundred and eighty thousand. The enemy had forty. The difference was clear. Yet none at the table took that as a guarantee of victory.

“You are all awfully quiet.”

An odd hush lay over the command tent, so stifling that it was hard to breathe. Nobody was foolish enough to think the battle was good as won. The fear of defeat hung in the air unspoken. They faced the Grantzian Empire, the monarchs of Soleil whose rule had lasted a thousand years. What was more, the enemy commander was none other than the fourth prince, the blood of the mythical War God who had spawned countless legends. None at the table had seen him; only word of his ingenious strategies had reached the far-flung lands of Klym.

“I can’t say I’ve ever feared forty thousand this much,” one of the aides remarked, his face tense. Others around the table nodded in solemn agreement. Lucia considered snapping at them for their cowardice, but cowing them further would accomplish nothing. Besides, she was not unsympathetic to their concerns. Even she was uncertain whether her schemes would bear fruit.

House Maruk is a lost cause, I fear.

Word had still not arrived from Orlean von Maruk. She could only assume that the fourth prince had caught wind of his treachery.

But that was not the last of my schemes.

She had succeeded in drawing the fourth prince out to this place. That was worth celebrating. She cast a glance at the stack of papers by her pillow and reached to take one in hand.

At that moment, a horn blew. She stopped and listened intently, engraving the sound into her memory. It was the clarion call of a battle that would be spoken of for generations to come. The tension dissolved as the tent filled with murmuring.

The retainer charged with keeping an eye on the battlefield reported in. “The first cohort is moving...with the first and second cavalry out in front.”

The aides set about placing pawns on the map. Six Kingdoms’ first cohort had taken up the dragon-wing formation, best suited to encircling an enemy. Its first and second cavalry numbered twenty thousand apiece. The first infantry—thirty thousand highly trained soldiers—made up the center. All in all, the cohort came to seventy thousand, almost double the empire’s numbers even without the rest of Six Kingdoms’ army.

“What formation have they taken?” Lucia asked.

“The flowing formation. Not the easiest to deal with.”

Lucia’s eyebrows rose. “Truly? The flowing formation? With their patchwork force?”

She could not deny her surprise at the enemy commander’s recklessness. The flowing formation was an unorthodox tactic that deployed an army’s units in a diagonal line. It took its name from the ease with which it could transform into the dragon-wing and dragon-scale formations, as well as its resemblance to a dragon in flight flowing through the sky. However, it required a great deal of coordination to execute—nobody would be so foolish as to attempt it with a cobbled-together army. While it had the advantage of allowing every unit ready access to the fray, that made it unsuitable for drawn-out battles and downright foolish to employ against a significantly larger force. Its presence on the field meant that Mars’s scion was almost certainly plotting something.

“Let us place our faith in the first cohort. If the enemy has crafted some scheme, we shall see it soon enough.” Lucia peered at the vanguard, narrowing her eyes. It was about time for the first and second cavalry to bite into the enemy’s flanks.

A thunderous noise rang out, an earthshaking crash that reached as far as the command tent. Screams rose. Battle cries rang out. Steel clashed, sparks showered, blades hewed heads from necks in a display of might. A red mist rose as ribbons of gore sprayed across the battlefield. In the coming hours, dozens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of lives would slick the soil.

“Marvelous,” Lucia breathed. In her eyes, it was beautiful. Only in mortal combat did men’s true natures surface. The fair and the ugly, revealed side by side in one perfect moment—that was war. There was neither compassion nor animosity here, only the pure urge to survive, pitted against that of others in desperate contest. The innocent act of spilling an enemy’s life to preserve one’s own.

“Truly, no words do it justice. ’Tis the privilege of being born human.” Lucia’s eyes gleamed. Her tongue snaked out lasciviously to lick a drop of apple juice from the corner of her mouth. “But when shall this scheme reveal itself?”

The more time passed, the more pronounced the imperial disadvantage became. They fought fiercely, showing passionate resistance in the face of death, but they were doomed even so.

“The fifty thousand in our second cohort are on the move. The end of the imperial force is nigh.”

“The end? Does he mean to let himself be massacred? Surely not. This cannot be all there is.” Lucia picked up one of the letters by her pillow. The writer—not Orlean von Maruk, but a different collaborator—claimed that Fourth Prince Hiro was plotting a raid on her camp.

Could it be that they, too, were found out?

She crushed the letter in her fist and stood up. “Seleucus, what news of our perimeter?”

Her handsome young vice-commander stepped forward, wearing his typical insolent smile. His expression was downright aggravating under the circumstances, and Lucia shot him a furious glare.

“I notice that you are scowling, Your Majesty.”

“In light of the urgency of the situation, I shall let that discourtesy pass.”

“You are most gracious, Your Majesty. Our perimeter, you said?”

“Indeed. Has the enemy been sighted?”

“Let’s see here... Our scouts report no suspicious movements within the vicinity, but we are unfamiliar with the terrain of the western territories. There are likely multiple places that our foe could conceal themselves.”

“Are there, indeed...”

Lucia cupped her chin in her hand, stood up, and exited the tent. The elevation provided her with a commanding view of the battlefield. The imperial forces appeared to have launched no schemes or traps worthy of the name. They simply held their ground and fought like wild beasts, dying in droves.

“Mayhaps I ought to send the third cohort out and leave the core exposed...”

“Will victory alone not suffice, Your Majesty?” Seleucus asked.

Lucia looked back, eyes burning with anger. “You have served me for how many years, and you give me this foolishness?” Her expression looked like it contained more fury than a human should have been able to muster. A wild wind swirled about her, gouging at the earth as if to underscore her outrage.

Seleucus’s smile turned fixed as he took a step back. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I spoke out of turn. I simply feared that the War God’s scion would make an appearance.” He chose his words carefully, conscious that his life was under threat.

Lucia’s eyes widened as it dawned on her that he did not understand. “But of course he will. I am certain of it.”

Seleucus’s smile fell away as his eyes shrank to points. “Then why your anger, Your Majesty?”

“Their resistance is too fierce!”

“Excuse me?”

Lucia ignored him and extended her hand toward the battlefield, pointing at the imperial troops. “Why do they still fight? Who commands them?”

“The War God’s scion, surely. But he must be leading the raid, so by process of elimination, one of his subordinates...” A look of confusion passed across Seleucus’s face. “But who is left?”

“Now do you see? Now do you begrudge me my anger?”

Almost all of the central nobles riding with Fourth Prince Hiro had defected to Six Kingdoms, but he had presumably seen through their schemes and executed them. If any of the central nobles remained, they would already have raised the banner of Six Kingdoms and turned on their allies.

“The western nobles, then?”

“Impossible—”

A scream from the field cut Lucia short. She looked over her shoulder to see the occupants of the tent come rushing out, shock written on their faces. An odd sight was unfolding on the battlefield. Familiar standards went up from the battered imperial troops.

“Is that...the serpent of Anguis?” Luka whispered at Lucia’s side. Lucia had not even noticed her arrival.

“It cannot be...”

That was not possible. The central nobles who had plotted to turn to Six Kingdoms’ side were dead. They had to be. If not, they would have acted far earlier in the battle.

“Seleucus! What are the first cohort’s orders?!”

“We prioritized reforming their ranks over updating their battle plans, Your Highness. Their orders remain what they were.”

Lucia had commanded the first cohort not to attack once the central nobles showed their colors. If they followed that command faithfully, they would end up turning their backs to the enemy.

“Send a...” Send a messenger to rescind their orders, she made to say, but then thought better of it. That would only cause chaos in the ranks. An elementary mistake. The corners of her mouth twitched. “No, there is no other choice. We must fall back.”

Victory was right before their eyes, but if they fixated only on grasping it, they would pay a dear price indeed. Lucia came to a decision and opened her mouth to give the order.

“It cannot be...”

What came out was not a command, but a gasp of shock. An incomprehensible sight unfolded before her eyes. Where the first and second cohorts had encircled the imperial forces, another unit was charging from behind. The observers on the hill watched, dumbfounded. The newcomers were no imperial ambush or late reinforcements. They were soldiers of Six Kingdoms—Vulpes cavalry.

“What the...? Those aren’t ours!” Igel protested. “We didn’t set up any ambush!”

“So this is your ploy...” Lucia whispered.

Her head spun. New problems were flying in from all directions and her mind could not keep up. She only knew one thing for certain: her army was at risk of turning on itself. Even if the newcomers were not truly Vulpes troops, it was Esel infantry they were attacking. That presented a serious danger. The cracks in the union would surface. The various kingdoms may have been longtime allies, but they were their own nations with their own interests. They did not think of one another as family, and they did not think of one another as friends. Their soldiers could not possibly recognize every member of a hundred-and-eighty-thousand-strong army; if the Esel troops struck back against the impostors, the real Vulpes troops would believe their allies were under attack and join the fray.

“Recall them all,” Lucia commanded. “Now.”

One wrong step and the situation would become unrecoverable. To think that the enemy would try to turn her army on itself while the sun was still high...

“At once, Your Majesty!” One of the retainers hurried away, holding a banner high.

What next? She struggled to draw her thoughts together. She could almost feel a blade pricking at her throat. Still, if she could not maintain a level head under any circumstance, she was not fit to command.

“Remain calm,” she told herself. “’Tis but the first battle. You will have opportunities to erase this disgrace.”

She was trying to convince herself more than anything. This kind of embarrassment would only earn her mockery from one woman in particular, and she had no intention of tasting such humiliation a second time. She had already cried enough childish tears for one lifetime.

“No more. No more. None shall get the better of me again.” Lucia’s eyes smoldered with rage as they regarded the battlefield. She slapped her own cheek with her fan. “’Tis a trivial setback. Nothing that a little thought cannot solve.”

Most likely, rattling her like this was precisely the enemy’s goal. Their schemes were nothing more than childish tricks. As long as she did not let her anger run away with her and analyzed the field appropriately, they would be easy enough to foil.

However, in the end, she took too long to organize her thoughts—and in trying to unravel the array of problems before her, she made one crucial oversight.

“Hold a moment. Why wait so long to reveal their schemes?”

Why only now, when their defeat was all but certain, was the enemy unveiling all of these tricks to throw the battlefield into disarray? Lucia looked around. Only then did she realize that all of her retainers’ eyes were glued to the front lines.

“So that was your ploy... Mars!”

And darkness fell upon the world.

＊＊＊＊＊

Screams split the air, pitiful, tear-streaked pleas born of unbearable pain. Figures slumped to the ground, unable to find cover from the deluge. Even so, the black clouds of arrows showed no sign of abating. They fell mercilessly upon the bodies to finish off the dying where they lay.

“Aim for the command tent. They’ve been kind enough to come out from behind their walls. We mustn’t waste the chance they’ve given us.”

Fourth Prince Hiro Schwartz von Grantz stood out on the battlefield thanks to his black hair and black eyes—a hue that only one man in Aletia had ever boasted. His usual eyepatch was nowhere to be seen upon his gentle features.

“What a sight. A fitting end for a pack of fools.”

Now that his left eye had been freed, it glowed with an uncanny radiance that chilled the blood.

“The way here wasn’t easy. They put up sturdy defenses.”

Seated astride his swiftdrake on a small hill, he smiled down at Six Kingdoms’ command tent. During the previous night, he had taken two thousand riders and circled around behind the enemy army. Imperial forces naturally knew imperial land better, but in order to be certain of getting the upper hand, he had enlisted Lord von Kirschia, a local noble, to lead them around the battlefield. Now the core of Six Kingdoms’ army unfolded below him.

“Panache thrives in warfare. One eye-catching scheme will earn the praise of historians for generations, and they will gladly beautify the events in text.” His words were matter-of-fact, but his voice was tinged with joy. “Now, where is Six Kingdoms’ commander? Where is the general who will be my stepping stone?”

He narrowed his eyes and swept an amused gaze across the camp, but there were no signs of any likely figures. All the while, the archers rained arrows on the troops below, turning the scene into a nightmare of blood and gore.

“Took them long enough.”

Horn blasts rose from all around, warning of an enemy assault. The solemn chorus resounded across the battlefield. The first and second cohorts must have noticed that they were under attack. Still, the order to retreat had not come through, so they could do nothing but fight on. They would turn on each other, ally would slay ally, the core would fall into chaos, and before long, the situation would be unsalvageable.

“One wrong move can be fatal on a battlefield. Their commander was a little too indecisive.”

Admittedly, he had primed them to act that way, but he did wonder how the battle looked from their perspective.

“Time to get moving. I wouldn’t want to give them time to reassemble their defenses.”

He drew Excalibur from his hip and raised it high. The gleaming blade shimmered with rainbow hues, holding fast the gazes of the soldiers behind him.

“All units, mount up.”

The archers lowered their bows and hefted themselves into the saddles of their waiting horses. Sensing that they were mounted up, Hiro lowered Excalibur so that it lay flush with the ground. The black dragon fluttered in the breeze—the same sacred standard beneath which the War God had once proclaimed conquest to the world.

“Take fear in your jaws and swallow it whole! Let fury guide your fangs to your enemies’ throats!”

Bring down the hammer of righteousness upon these savages who dare defile imperial soil.

“In Mars’s name, I command you: charge!”

A war cry swelled at his back, urging him forward as he kicked his swiftdrake’s flanks. Enemy archers began to nock their arrows as they registered the cavalry hurtling down the slope.

Hiro swung Excalibur out to the side and shouted over his shoulder. “Do not falter! Shields out, heads low! Ride straight through!”

Wind hissed by his ear. Several men toppled from their horses behind him. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he cleared the encroaching arrows away with a wave of his arm.

“Out of my way.”

He launched himself from his swiftdrake’s back, alighting in the midst of the enemy troops.

“Wha— Argh!”

One soldier went down with a thrust through the throat. Hiro pulled his sword free and swung around to cleave another’s head from his shoulders. A spear thrust toward him, and he twisted to avoid it before closing on the wielder in the blink of an eye.

“Ah—”

A short scream escaped the man’s mouth in the split second before Hiro cut him open from hip to shoulder. He picked up the dropped spear and hurled it toward another soldier who was nocking an arrow. The shaft passed clean through the man’s head, shattering his skull.

“Let’s clear a path, shall we?”

As the words left Hiro’s lips, the imperial cavalry caught up. They slammed into the enemy forces, sending them flying. The wall of bodies before him crumbled in an instant. Horseshoes crushed screams into the muck, spearpoints drew forth cries of pain, blood rained down from the sky.

Hiro strode ahead over a carpet of corpses. His advance was regal, sparing the foe not a glance as he dispassionately cut them down.

“There are more of them than I expected.”

The enemy core had deployed troops to the rear, as though they had been anticipating a surprise attack. The cavalry continued to sow chaos, but as the enemy numbers grew, more and more found themselves dragged from their horses. Even so, they carried on, believing in victory. With weapons in hand and shields held high, they fought for their families. They would not yield until their lives were spent.

“Forgive me.”

Hiro looked on with a faint smile on his lips. An apology was all he could offer. There were no limits to human greed, and goodwill was easily tainted by ill intent.

“And I’m no better.”

He faced the oncoming enemy horde and brandished Excalibur. That motion alone projected a terror no ordinary man could withstand. He beckoned his foes to death before they could scream, before they could suffer, before they even knew what had occurred.

An unparalleled danse macabre unfolded on the field. Blackness blotted out the world. Life, death, even light itself guttered out before the dark.

“The Desperation...” someone whispered fearfully. It was impossible to tell whom. All of the soldiers in Hiro’s vicinity had perished to a man.

Hiro shot the remaining enemies a glare, and they stepped back. He let loose a blast of power to keep them cowed, then rested Excalibur on his shoulders and cast his gaze over his allies.

“To me, soldiers of the empire! It is too early to—”

An impact to his back forcibly cut him off. A roar shook his eardrums, as though he were caught in a rainstorm. There was no pain—the Black Camellia had shielded him from the threat—but the suddenness of the blow caused him to stumble forward.

“I see. So this is where you’re going to do it.” Although physically unharmed, Hiro brought a hand to his chest in anguish as he looked around. “I knew this was coming...but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

His former allies had joined his enemies in leveling their spears at him. One by one, the black dragon banners were torn from their standards and cast to the ground. Serpents danced against the sky in their place.

A sharper hostility flared behind him. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but I must take your head.”

Hiro turned to face the voice. “I suppose it’s a formality at this point...but may I ask what you’re doing, Lord von Kirschia?”

“I am truly sorry.”

Anger flashed in Hiro’s eyes. “I didn’t ask for an apology. I asked for an explanation.”

He stepped toward von Kirschia but found his path blocked. The soldiers around him thrust their spears forward. A flourish of Excalibur knocked the lethal points aside with ease. He picked up a spear with his left hand and sliced open the carotid artery of the soldier in front of him before thrusting the haft at the man behind, shattering his jaw. Dust whipped up about him as he spun the weapon around, sending heads flying. Finally, he flung it away, splattering gore across the ground where it landed.

“Sit quiet and wait your turn,” he ordered the surrounding traitors. His mouth pulled into a crescent smile as he set a finger to his lips. The motion was slight, but it was enough to make the men stiffen in place.

“Now then, Lord von Kirschia. You were about to explain yourself.”

Von Kirschia fell to his knees in terror, his mouth parting into a broken smile as though he had forgotten how to express any other emotion. “Forgive me, Your Highness! Forgive me! I had no choice!”

“That’s not what I want to hear. I’m asking why you did this.”

“For my people, Your Highness! They took my people hostage!” Von Kirschia, a grown man, wept openly in front of a boy young enough to be his son. His eyes pleaded for absolution. With his back bent low, he looked pathetically small.

“So that was why you told me about Orlean. To gain my trust.”

“Forgive me, Your Highness! I know that it was wrong!” He ground his forehead against the earth.

Hiro shot him a cold glance and turned away. “I knew, you know. From the start, I knew you were in bed with Six Kingdoms.”

“You...what?”

“‘For my people,’ you said? How dare you lie to my face. You wanted to save yourself, that’s all.”

He swung around. Excalibur flashed. Von Kirschia’s head flew from his shoulders, trailing a ribbon of blood.

“But you’ve served your purpose. I kept you alive for the sake of this moment.”

He shot the head a single, frigid glare as it rolled away. As the sound of the world crumbling rose around him, he turned his eyes to the sky.

“Save yourself, Your Highness! You must live on!”

The remaining loyal troops were trying to break through the circle and help him escape, but it was costing them dearly. They fell one after another, their backs laid open, their chests run through, their arms lopped off.

“Stand firm, men!” someone cried among them. “Are you not children of the Grantzian Empire?! We offer turncoats no mercy but death!”

Soldiers wept tears of blood as their curses vanished on the wind. One by one they fell to spear thrusts, but still they held their weapons high.

“Oh, great Spirit King, strike down these traitors! Glory to the empire!”

The traitors in question had chosen their course in order to save their own hides. If they showed the slightest hesitation, they would be killed on the spot. Both sides had no choice but to harden their hearts and cut down yesterday’s friends. Agonized cries echoed skyward. The screams of men slain by their former allies rang ceaselessly across the plain.

Amidst the din, the cry of a creature with no place on the battlefield reached Hiro’s ears. His bitter smile turned into a dangerous scowl as he spun toward the noise. There was his swiftdrake, surrounded by enemy troops.

“The beast’s a stubborn one! Hurry and finish it off!”

Spearpoints stripped away its scales and bit deep into its flesh. Its cries of pain rose to the sky. The soldiers kicked it and wrestled it to the ground, where they continued to torment it.

“Swiftdrakes are a rare breed. This hide’ll fetch good coin!”

However, no matter how fiercely they beat it or how cruelly they kicked it, the swiftdrake struggled valiantly back to its feet.

“We’d be better off keeping it for ourselves. Still, makes you wonder how a beast like this ended up on the field in the first place...”

“Just don’t let it get away! Stick it good! Anything with that many teeth needs to be put down before it can use them!”

There was a cold kind of sense to their words, but even so, a human being could only bear so much.

“The scum of the world should know its place.”

Hiro surged forward, his mind boiling with white-hot anger. A dark, stagnant aura billowed from his every pore.

“Don’t you dare lay a finger on my kin.”

He sent the head of the man pinning down the swiftdrake’s neck flying with a single swing before rounding on the rest of the soldiers. None who had touched the beast’s hide lived to tell the tale. None who had scorned it or spat on it received any mercy. He clove their heads from their bodies before turning on those around them, curing them down to a man. At last, the swiftdrake stood alone in the center of a world of blood.

“I’m sorry.” Hiro stepped toward it. “I should have come sooner.”

He laid a hand on the beast’s neck, and it nuzzled his chest. He smiled. It—no, she—had always been loyal to a fault.

“I’ll be all right. Go on. Get out of here.” He patted her neck one more time and stepped reluctantly back, retrieving the banner slung along her flank as he did. “With your legs, you’ll have no trouble getting away.”

He flashed the animal a small smile before producing a letter from his pocket, which he slipped into the saddle.

“Take that to Liz for me, would you?”

The swiftdrake cocked her head with a plaintive whine. He could tell from her eyes that she wanted nothing more than to stay with him.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right.” He brought the beast’s head close and laid his forehead against it. “I’ll be right behind you. Wait for me with Liz, okay?”

His voice was gentle, and for once, his smile looked no different than that of any boy his age. He drew back from the swiftdrake and she set off, accepting his will. A short distance away, she stopped and looked back, crooning softly. The sound was low and sad, like a final goodbye. Hiro didn’t let his smile falter as he waved back.

Few could stop a swiftdrake running at full speed. So long as she focused only on escaping, she would have little trouble fleeing the battlefield unharmed. Her flight made for a beautiful sight. Soldiers stopped and stared as she streaked across the plain, forgetting for a moment the weapons in their hands.

“Thank you for waiting.”

Hiro readied Excalibur, planting his standard in the ground. The sight of the black dragon fluttering in the wind was nothing short of majestic. The banner might only have been cloth, but it still caused the enemy to shrink back, overawed.

He looked around. Only foes and former allies were left within his field of view, but if he strained his ears, he could still hear the clashing of steel. Somewhere, pockets of loyal soldiers were continuing to hold out, although the sound grew fainter with every breath.

He heaved a sigh. “Well, I suppose we should get started. Just remember—you asked for this.”

With a snap of his fingers, the air around him began to distort. Brilliant light spilled forth as tears appeared. Such was the privilege of Excalibur’s chosen. A dizzying number of spirit weapons filled the sky, a million stars newly born upon the earth. Although the sun was high, the budding night sky rivaled it for splendor.

“I hope you’re prepared.”

The words had the air of a death sentence. Fear colored the enemy soldiers’ expressions. If Hiro had been any other teenage boy, they would have laughed in his face, but even they could sense the abnormal power he projected. For the briefest of moments, he showed them a glimpse of a god’s strength and a devil’s brutality.

“Try not to make any sudden movements,” he said. “You wouldn’t want to suffer before you die.”

And then he disappeared.

In that moment, the battlefield fell silent, as though all sound had vanished from the world. The soldiers stared at the black dragon standard, bewildered, as though they had forgotten how to breathe.

“What the... What’s he—”

It came without warning. A soldier abruptly fell to the ground as though his legs had given out. One became two became five became ten became twenty. In the span of an instant, the number of victims multiplied exponentially. The darkness claimed them before they could even comprehend what had occurred.

“Gyaaaaaahhh!”

Their descent into terror and the breaking of their minds was simultaneous. They threw down their weapons and fled in confusion, not even knowing where they were running to. More slumped to the ground even as they ran. Those who bowed down and prayed to their gods had their throats laid open; those who turned tail and fled were speared through the heart; those who mustered enough courage to stand and fight had their heads lopped off without mercy.

“It’s Cornix...” one of the Six Kingdoms soldiers whispered. “The herald of the end—”

A glimmer of silver passed beneath his chin. His head rolled from his shoulders, blood spraying from the stump.

The spirit weapons floating in midair began to vanish with frightful speed—one, three, eight, fourteen. All that remained of them was the whistling of wind drifting across a scene of indiscriminate slaughter. White streaks scored deep into the soldiers’ flesh, stifling their screams in their throats. The barrage of slashes knew no cessation, only increasing in speed. Such was the privilege of Excalibur’s chosen, the power of its Graal: Lucifer.

Divine Lightning—Liegegrazalt.

The heavens fell, and the world was gleaming silver. A blinding light, white and searing, consumed all.

When the deed was done, corpses carpeted the earth. Not one living soul remained to quip or joke. The soil was stained with the blood of the dead, like a sun swallowed by cloud, and a black dragon standard stood alone, fluttering gracefully in the middle of the hellish tableau.

“That should about do it.”

Hiro came to a quiet stop beneath the flag. Bodies surrounded him. The enemy soldiers eyed him from afar, inching closer with weapons in hand. Their eyes were filled with fear, but none fled. They mustered their courage and forced themselves onward.

“What a magnificent showing! Truly, you do not disappoint.”

A lilting voice filtered through the ranks, and the horde of soldiers parted like a wave. A woman stepped forth, applauding as she came.

“And you make not a move to conceal your strength! Bravo, I say, bravo!”

Her pale skin was as smooth as spun glass, and her amber eyes had the cold gleam of burnished copper. Her angular lashes gave her a steely edge, but she was by no means lacking in allure—her dignified figure had surely drawn sighs of admiration from many a throat. Yet what stood out most was her attire: a garish affair wholly unsuited to the horrors of battle. With no armor to protect her from blades or arrows, it would have been a mark of insanity on anyone else. Her willowy frame looked like it would snap at the slightest blow. She seemed for all the world a noblewoman who had strayed onto the field.

There must be more to her than meets the eye. Some hidden power, perhaps...

Hiro breathed a sigh of relief. Here, at last, was the enemy commander.

“You may call me Lucia Levia du Anguis.” Her lips drew into the lascivious smile of a serpent as she leveled her fan at him. “And you are Hiro, I take it? The scion of Mars?”

“Imperious” perhaps suited her best. Her voice did not waver even in Hiro’s dreadful presence. Indeed, with her dauntless grin, she seemed entirely at ease.

“I am. Hiro Schwartz von Grantz.”

“I have dearly hoped to meet you. So very, very dearly.” Her tongue moistened her lips as a beguiling smile spread across her face, as ominous as a snake that had caught sight of its prey.

“What a coincidence. I’ve been wanting to meet you too.”

“My, what hostility. Look at me with such murder in your eyes and I might just burst into tears.” Lucia’s cheeks flushed pink and her breathing grew ragged. She wrapped her arms around herself in delight.

“And with a woman as beautiful as you gazing into mine, I just might freeze up.”

“Like a serpent with a mouse, perchance? And I feared you would be impervious to my charms.”

Their exchange was oddly flippant as they stared at one another, each trying to divine the other’s intent.

“I must say, you did not hesitate in cutting down Lord von Kirschia’s boy.”

“I don’t show mercy to traitors. No matter their reasons.”

“I had heard tell that you were as cold as ice, and it seems that is true.”

“He claimed that he didn’t care about his family; he just wanted to save his people. I wouldn’t have minded letting him live, really, but then I saw the lie in his eyes.”

Von Kirschia had not acted out of fear for his subjects. His had been the eyes of a man concerned solely with saving his own skin. There was no sense in leaving somebody like that alive. Indeed, the world of the future would be better off with him dead.

“You preach righteousness,” Lucia remarked, “and yet you act with cruelty.”

“I just don’t want to risk being left with regrets.”

“Then you are wise, and decisive too. I have a liking for such men.” Her gaze lingered on Hiro as though sizing him up. A faint chill ran up his spine, and she chuckled at his discomfort. “Do you recall the Venerable Master?”

Hiro’s shoulders twitched. Of course he did. Shortly after his original arrival in Aletia, the Venerable Master had taken him under his wing like a kindly grandfather and taught him much about the world. In time, the old man had become a member of the Black Hand. Hiro could not have forgotten him if he had tried. He frowned at the question.

A triumphant grin spread across Lucia’s face. “Few would know that name in this day and age. You must truly be the War God in the flesh.”

“What if I am?”

“Then I ask you—will you not join me?”

That, Hiro had not expected. He floundered for a response.

Seeing his hesitation, Lucia held out a hand, her expression soft. “Surely you know the truth of things. The truth of Six Kingdoms’ founding. By all rights, you ought to stand with us.”

“And what if I turn you down?”

“Then I shall take your head.” Lucia did not hesitate for a millisecond. “With apologies to my great ancestor, I would have no choice.”

“Then it looks like we’re fighting. I’ll never forsake the empire.” With an apologetic smile, Hiro readied Excalibur.

“As I should have known. Forgive my offer. ’Twas boorish of me.” Lucia’s voice sounded sincere; she seemed to genuinely respect his position. She lowered her eyes, as if ashamed of her own words, and raised her fan over her mouth. “I trust there is naught more to be said?”

“So it seems. Shall we get started?”

“You face thirty thousand men. I bid you struggle to the last, and when you fall, leave behind a death worthy of the War God.”

As Lucia thrust her fan out toward Hiro, two figures leaped forward from behind her back.

“Took you long enough, Your Majesty! I was startin’ to think you weren’t gonna call us!”

“Watch your tongue, Igel, or you’ll bite it off.”

The man and woman made an odd pair, but Hiro could tell at a glance that they were skilled warriors. He met them with full force.

“Well, well,” he murmured. “What do we have here?”

“Look at that!” the man shouted back. “The brat’s tougher than he looks!”

“And you’re loud for an insect.” Hiro raised Excalibur above his head to catch the man’s weapon. A tremendous impact echoed down the blade. The ground broke first, buckling beneath his feet to form a steep crater. As dust flew skyward, he leaped back to gain some distance.

The woman’s voice sounded behind him. “That’s far enough, I think.”

He immediately passed his sword behind his back from his right hand to the left and raised it vertically. Bracing his right hand against the blade gave him just enough stability to weather the incoming attack. Still, he could not nullify its momentum entirely, and the blow sent him bouncing across the ground. He sprang back to his feet to see the pair rounding on him, brandishing their weapons.

“You may call me Luka Mammon du Vulpes. The honor is mine, I’m sure.” The woman bent at the waist in a formal bow, offering a glimpse of a shrewd and twisted character. In spite of her slender build, she wielded an enormous war hammer.

“And I’m Igel du Vulpes—the man who’s going to end your life!” Her counterpart was short-haired and handsome, but his looks were put to waste by an overpowering arrogance that he made no effort to hide. He wielded a three-section staff emitting curious motes of light, which he carried slung over his shoulder. Both he and his sister radiated the auras of veteran fighters.

“I’m Hiro Schwartz von Grantz.”

Hiro braced his foot against the ground and surged forward. First, he would test them. He swung Excalibur without too much force, just enough to gauge their strength.

“Hah! Too slow!”

The three-section staff lashed out like a living creature, its joints whistling, and knocked the Heavenly Sovereign away. The air screamed as the greathammer swung in from the side. Hiro kicked up a cloud of dirt, then, seeing that he had disrupted its arc, thrust his gleaming sword into the swirling dust. A dull impact rang up his arm, telling him that Luka had blocked the strike. He pivoted on his right leg and lashed out with his left, driving his heel cleanly into Igel’s cheek.

“Urgh!”

With a cry, Igel tumbled away. Hiro spared him only a glance before stepping in and striking with his hand.

“Ngh!”

The heel of his palm connected with Luka’s chin as she closed on him, snapping her head upward. She staggered back, reeling. He had struck with the intention of breaking her jaw, but it seemed she was hardier than she looked.

“Those wouldn’t happen to be Noble Blades, would they?”

Hiro had no memory of the weapons the pair bore, but if they could keep up with his attacks, they could only be Noble Blades like Excalibur. A pure-blooded zlosta like Garda could have kept pace with lesser arms, but the blood of Six Kingdoms had grown so mixed that any of its people were almost certainly mostly human.

“Consider me impressed.” Luka was the one to reply. “As you say, this is one of the Dharmic Blades—Vajra, the Adamant Hammer. Igel’s is Saranga, the Purging Staff, of the same.”

The Dharmic Blades were five treasure blades created in the days when humans and álfar had still been on friendly terms. Each contained the soul of an auf, granting them their own wills much like the Spiritblade Sovereigns, but they originated from the Faerie King rather than the Spirit King. Unlike the other Noble Blades, they had little preference in who they chose as their master, and were said to appear in the dreams of those who earned their favor to grant them great power.

I should have taken the time to learn more about them.

Hiro had only known one of the wielders of the Dharmic Blades—the chosen of Sudarshana—during his time as Schwartz. The others, much like the other wielders of the Noble Blades, had been scattered throughout the world resisting the zlosta expansion. Relations between the humans and the álfar had soured during the twilight of the war, so he had never gotten the chance to meet them.

Luka cocked her head. “And is that sword of yours another of the Noble Blades?”

Igel, for his part, peered curiously at the Black Camellia, but seemed to think better of asking about it. He only stared, his eyes boring into Hiro.

There was no reason to hide the truth. The time for deception was over.

“It’s one of the Spiritblade Sovereigns. The Heavenly Sovereign.”

“Truly?” More surprised than either of the Vulpes siblings was the woman watching from behind them—Lucia. She covered her mouth with a hand, as though embarrassed by her own astonishment. “Indeed, they say no blood shall ever stain its steel, no matter how many foes it butchers...”

A blade of gleaming silver was the mark of a hero. By that regal steel had a doomed kingdom been saved and its neighbors conquered. Yet after its legend was made, the sword had vanished in the mists of time and was now thought lost to history.

“‘To the king blessed with twinned black, commander of all creation, there came a mighty sword, and it knew no defeat, bringing only victory assured.’” Lucia chuckled. “I had my suspicions...but now I know that our triumph is certain.”

Hiro saw her shoot Igel a glance, but before he could wonder what they were planning, Luka was hurtling toward him.

“Ngh!” he grunted.

“Show me your strength!” she cried. “The strength of the Hero King’s blade!”

Her greathammer—Vajra—screamed through the air as it approached. Hiro deflected the blow, but the impact left an odd sensation lingering in his fingers. Before he could ponder its nature, however, Igel was upon him.

“Can’t be easy, huh? Going up against two Dharmic Blades!”

The erratic motions of the three-section staff coalesced into a strike at Hiro’s cheek.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I can see every move you make.”

He ducked out of the way of the blow and drove his fist into Igel’s nose. Igel flew away, bouncing across the ground. He stretched out his arms and brought himself to a halt. When he rose and looked back, his face was colored with fury.

“Won’t even deign to use your sword, huh? Start trying already!”

“Try? This is just a game to me.” The air froze with Hiro’s declaration. He gave a small shrug and cocked his head. “But that does make me want to ask you something.”

“Huh?”

“Why should I bring all my strength to bear just to crush an ant?”

Stillness, dead air, incredulity, repudiation. The silence that fell between them was beyond what words could describe.

“Aha...ha ha...” A mask seemed to fall from Igel’s face, leaving behind something twisted beyond recognition. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! You are SO FUCKING DEAD!”

What issued from him was nothing so kind as hostility. He exploded with rage that was outright murderous.

Hiro only narrowed his eyes, flashing the man a mocking smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“DIE!”

Igel closed the gap instantly. He was inches from Hiro’s nose in a heartbeat. Hiro ducked low beneath a blow coming for the back of his head and batted back the knee that lashed reactively up toward his face. Igel let the leg buckle, raking at Hiro’s left eye with an upward swipe, but Hiro struck the ground with his fist, forcing himself out of the way.

The move worked, with only a second to spare—in the corner of his eye, Luka’s greathammer crashed down in the space he had occupied. He aimed a kick at her ankle, but before it could land, he felt the Black Camellia take a defensive posture and switched his attention to Igel. Saranga collided hard with the black mantle.

The shock waves of the battle whipped up a cloud of dust. Sparks bloomed and scattered as the clashing of steel rang loud. As their contest reached its height, two figures flew from the haze—Luka and Igel. Shoulders heaving, covered in scrapes and bruises, they glared back at the beast lurking in the cloud. The wind cleared it away, revealing Hiro standing unharmed.

“Is that all?” He smiled. His breathing was a little labored, but that was all.

The Vulpes siblings’ lips pressed together tightly with frustration at the show of martial skill.

“Two of us and one of him, yet not a single blow came near...” The corners of Luka’s eyes twitched in undisguised astonishment. “Is he truly human, or is he a monster indeed?”

Always the same words, every time Hiro’s enemies felt the wall against their backs. Could anyone blame him for growing bored? He heaved an exasperated sigh. “I’m only human. Just a little sturdier than most.”

One thousand years ago, he had resolved to push himself harder than anybody else. His need to protect those he cared about spurred him to train himself half to death. He had striven desperately in search of power—and found it. The Black Camellia and Dáinsleif had come to him as a result of that aspiration, not because of any underhanded trickery. It was the desire to be the strongest that had made him who he was.

“But still, I was always just a little too late. I always lose everything I hold dear.” Hiro’s voice was flat and low as his lips drew into a ghastly smile. “So tell me...when will this withered heart be sated?”

His expression sought no answer, but it confused the Vulpes siblings. They hesitated for a crucial moment, knocked off-balance as much by the change in Hiro’s demeanor as the question. Hiro lunged at them, wreathed in madness and with the speed of a feral beast.

“Ngh!”

Blood sprayed from Igel’s mouth as a vicious blow took him across the cheek. White teeth scattered across the ground. Luka tried to riposte, but a savage kick caught her square in the abdomen. She fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. Hiro gave her no reprieve; he drew her close by the fabric across her chest and slammed her into the ground. The breath burst from her lungs. Pinning her slender neck down with his left hand, Hiro deftly flipped Excalibur around in his right and drove it down toward her chest.

Inches from bare skin, the blade glanced away, its arc knocked askew. It drew blood from Luka’s cheek as it sank into the ground next to her head. Saranga’s intervention had knocked it aside.

“No one lays a hand on my sister!” Igel bellowed.

Hiro tensed his legs and leaped backward. The Vulpes siblings took their chance to retreat and regroup, cautious now they realized that they were at a disadvantage.

“Why bother keeping this up?” Igel wiped a glob of bloody spit from the corner of his mouth. “No one’s coming to save you.”

Luka said nothing, but she stared at Hiro with burning hatred as she caught her breath.

“I suppose you’re right.”

Hiro looked around. He could make out no allies, only a ring of enemy soldiers with spears, swords, and bows. The metallic clangor of desperate resistance had grown silent now. With Lord von Kirschia’s betrayal, he may as well never have had any friends at all. But even so...

“That’s no reason for me to give in.”

The situation was hopeless. Any ordinary man would have resigned himself to his fate. But Hiro was not equipped with such weak faculties.

Igel snarled with undisguised annoyance. “Cocky little shit, aren’t you? Figure you’ve got some way of escaping this death trap?”

Hiro’s demeanor seemed to have rubbed the man the wrong way. The battle was over—the imperial forces had no strength left with which to turn the tables—but even with enemies on all sides, Hiro remained unflappable. If the unease in Igel’s fierce gaze was anything to go by, the man still suspected some kind of trick.

He’s on the brink. Just one more push. One more hint of weakness.

Hiro loosened his collar and breathed a sigh. He had been goading the enemy constantly, taking care all the while not to reveal his true intentions; now it was time for the finishing touch.

“Death trap?” He took one step backward and cast a glance behind him. “Without an army slowing me down, I can get away anytime I like.”

“You’re not going anywhere!”

Igel lunged forward, a vein throbbing in his forehead. Repeated provocations and now the threat of his prey getting away provoked him into charging with wild abandon. The blow was heavy enough to echo through Hiro’s innards, but he managed to block it. At the same time, he cast a glance at Igel’s left hand. There lay a blue crystal, scattering azure light as it caught the sun’s rays.

Such crystals were concentrated masses of dharmic energy and were hence known as dharmastones. They harbored the miraculous power particular to the álfar. If the manastones that grew on the bodies of the zlosta stood for domination, the dharmastones that grew on the bodies of the álfar stood for healing; indeed, the smaller cuts and scrapes crisscrossing Igel’s body had already sealed. He was certainly not a pure álf, but many álfar had lived in Klym since before Six Kingdoms’ founding. Their blood ran thick in his veins—and the same was true of his sister.

“Thank you for waiting, Igel. Now we can crush him as he deserves.”

As Hiro ducked between Igel’s attacks, Luka charged into the opening, brandishing her greathammer. Her skin was once more pale, lustrous, and unblemished. There was a thunderous crash as Vajra shattered the ground. A squall whipped up around her, raising a plume of dust that shielded her from view, but it was clear that her wounds, too, had healed.

“Now that’s what I’d expect from wielders of the Dharmic Blades. It would have been boring if you’d gone down too easily.”

“Keep talking, you loudmouthed brat! You won’t find it so funny when I break your jaw!”

Their attacks were fruitless, their attempts to hit him futile—and they grew all the more frustrated for it.

It’s about time, I think.

Hiro slashed the cloud of dust aside and closed on Igel with Excalibur held low. All at once, he was within killing range. Igel’s confident front crumbled in an instant. He cast a tearful glance at his sister, his eyes screaming that he didn’t want to die.

“No—”

But Luka’s plea for mercy came too late.

Smack. The soft sound echoed across the battlefield.

“Huh?”

A dumbfounded noise escaped Igel’s mouth. There was no pain. His head was still attached. With eyes wide open, he raised a hand to the small red mark on his forehead.

“Life flash before your eyes?” Hiro’s voice dripped with amusement. He held up his left hand with his middle finger curled. Instead of landing a killing blow, he had flicked Igel in the forehead.

“What in the hell...”

“I told you, didn’t I?” Hiro donned his most mocking, most arrogant smile. “This is all just a game to me.”

“Heh heh... Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!” Igel’s eyes bulged and his voice grew strained. The shame had broken him utterly. “GRAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

As his anger burgeoned, his dharmastone began to glow with a dazzling light.

Hiro narrowed his eyes against the glare. “At last...”

An immense torrent of power poured from the crystal like a swirling vortex.

“The rest is up to you, sis!” Igel shouted. He spun to face Lucia, who, as ever, was watching in silence. “And you! You’d better keep your word!”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he charged wildly at Hiro. His three-section staff traced a wild arc through the air as it soared toward his target’s head.

Hiro dodged the first attack with a twist of his neck and blocked the second with Excalibur’s hilt. As the staff glanced away, the connecting chain wrapped around his right arm and seized hold of his forearm like a vice, dragging him forward with incredible force. Immediately, he passed Excalibur from his right arm to his left and thrust it at Igel, but where the point had been intended to spear the man’s neck, it only sliced through his cheek.

Delight filled Igel’s face as he saw that he had evaded the blow. At the same time, a scythe-like blade sprang from the staff in his hands. He braced his foot against the ground and unleashed a furious slash.

“Got you now, you brat!”

Hiro scowled. With his right arm trapped, he couldn’t move away, and he had no time to dodge. Sensing that its master was in danger, the Black Camellia stirred. The tangling folds of its black cloth stopped the blade inches from Hiro’s neck. Igel froze in astonishment. His hesitation hardly lasted the span of a breath, but it was enough.

“You’re wide open.”

Hiro did not miss his chance. Excalibur’s glittering blade bit mercilessly into Igel’s flesh. The man’s left arm sailed high, painting the sky red.

“You think that’ll stop me?!” Igel roared.

With his face contorted into a vision of rage, he dragged Hiro close with his right arm alone and unleashed a vicious headbutt. Their skulls cracked together. Hiro’s vision rocked. Still, he was not content to remain passive.

“You little shit!” Blood sprayed from Igel’s mouth as Excalibur stabbed deep into his side. His face contorted in agony. With a demon’s visage, he retaliated with a rain of blows, paying no mind to the sword lodged deep in his flesh. Marshaling his inexhaustible power, he swung his three-section staff at Hiro’s head.

Hiro made no move to evade, trusting the Black Camellia to protect him.

“Think that’ll stop me, huh? You think I don’t know the Black Camellia’s tricks?!” Igel’s eyes shone fiercely, as though he had been waiting for Hiro’s garb to spring into action. “Give me back my arm!”

He flung Saranga away and tackled Hiro, knocking him to the ground and straddling him. As he did, his left arm fell from the sky.

“You wanna eat something, do you? How about this?!”

Igel snatched his own limb from the air, blood still flowing from its severed stump, and thrust it squarely into the Black Camellia. The effect was immediate. The garment’s motions ceased and it fell limply to the ground.

“Looks like there’s somethin’ to those legends after all!” Igel’s remaining fist drove hard into Hiro’s face. “If your Black Camellia’s really made of what they say, it stands to reason that a dharmastone can seal it!”

Again and again, the punches fell. Hiro lay on the ground with his limbs sprawled out, powerless to defend himself from the rain of blows.

“I’m gonna take my sweet time killing you! You’ve caused us enough disgrace—”

Igel seized up like a deer in the headlights. In the split second before he swung his fist down, he had caught a glimpse of Hiro’s face—of the ghoulish smile on his lips, and of the all-devouring abyss in his eyes.

“That’s all? I expected more.”

“Nnngh?!”

Hiro’s fist only struck once, but it carried extraordinary force. Igel’s muscular body sailed through the air. The man twisted nimbly in midair and landed gracefully, but after a moment, he listed sideways. It was hard to fault him. With blood pouring from the severed stump of his arm and a deep gash in his side, it was a wonder that he was even still conscious. Even so, he showed every intention of continuing to fight.

“Stand back, Igel. I will take things from here.”

Vajra cracked the ground, its colossal size belying its wielder’s slender frame. Luka hefted it like a toy and closed the distance in a flash. Hiro tried to take a step out of the way, but—

“Perhaps that worked a little too well...”

His legs wouldn’t—couldn’t—move. The Black Camellia was unresponsive, fallen entirely silent. A beat passed, and then a pulverizing impact blasted through his body.

“Gah!”

With no defense to negate its momentum, the blow sent Hiro bouncing away. When he finally came to a stop, he tried to get to his feet, but his body felt as heavy as lead.

“Your Black Camellia has absorbed my brother’s dharmastone,” Luka said, “and what affects the garment affects the wearer. You could annul your contract, of course...but that isn’t easily done, is it?”

Hiro snorted.

“Does something amuse you?”

“Nothing at all.” He raised his eyes to look at her. “Only, I figure we’re finally evenly matched.”

The corners of Luka’s mouth twitched. “You shall eat those words before I’m through!”

A brutal kick to Hiro’s side sent him tumbling across the ground. He used the momentum to rise to his feet, but at once, Luka was upon him.

“I will leave your head intact,” she cried, “but I’ll spray your guts across the field!” Her eyes gleamed with delight as she pictured the gruesome spectacle.

Vajra swung down toward Hiro’s head. He tried to dart out of the way, but he wasn’t fast enough. A tearing sound split the air. Agony coursed through him, as though his own body was being ripped apart. Before he could process what any of that signified, however, Igel lunged in from the sidelines.

“Ha ha ha! Take this!”

The world flickered. Hiro’s eardrums seemed to fill with static. Still, his mind remained lucid. Mentally plotting out his next move, he tried to brace his hand against the ground—and found that he couldn’t.

“Ah...”

There was nothing there. His movements felt restricted, like there was a hole where something should have been. He looked down at his right arm with empty eyes, trying to compute what was missing, only to see that it had been torn off at the shoulder.

“DIEEEEEEEEE!!!”

A savage blow knocked his head skyward. A sickening noise rang through his skull, like his jaw had been crushed to powder. It sounded like the end of the world.

“Ah...”

Blue sky above. Cerulean. Ultramarine. All at once stained red. A droplet of something warm and wet smacked against his cheek. His own black-clothed arm came tumbling from the heavens.

“How’d you like that, huh? Shouldn’t have gotten sloppy!”

A man celebrated his triumph in a world dyed bloodred. So presumptuous was his joy, how could one not want to see him weep in despair? By his side, a woman breathed a sigh of relief—and her tears, too, would be delightful beyond compare.

“Just one more...” Hiro did not even register the words passing through his lips. He struggled to rise, but to no avail.

“Black Camellia weighing you down? And you’ve lost your sword arm too. Give it up. It’s over.” The grinning man landed a vicious kick in Hiro’s ribs, knocking him to the ground. “Now my sister’ll be queen, and I’ll be her right hand. And all we gotta do is take your head.”

His breathing was ragged, like he was drunk on his own victory. The corners of his mouth drew up in uncontrollable glee.

“Well, Mars? Got any last—”

Snick. A gruesome noise fell on Hiro’s eardrums. The warm wetness of gushing blood poured onto him from above. A moment passed, and then a dull thump, like a sandbag hitting the ground, resounded across the battlefield.

His emotionless eyes flicked to the head rolling across the dirt. “You shouldn’t whisper in my ear like that. Now look at what you made me do.”

There was a bear of silence, followed by a scream. Rage became grief and grief became voice, a haphazard patchwork of sound.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Hiro turned toward the source. Luka stood with both hands over her face, trying to avert her eyes from reality.

“Pride always comes before a fall.” Hiro stood, his smile widening. “That advice might not be much good to a corpse...but perhaps he can put it to use in his next life.”

Excalibur had vanished from his hand. In its place was Dáinsleif, shrouded in baleful darkness. The Black Camellia was still unresponsive, but the flow of blood from his shoulder had stemmed. His senses had dulled, but they were still sharp enough to do what needed to be done.

“I’ll kill you... I’ll kill you!”

An explosion rocked the earth. Hiro turned to look. Luka was glaring at him, her expression demonic. The ground gave out beneath her feet as her power swelled, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

Hiro’s smile grew uncannily wide as he felt her rage crackle against his skin. “Give someone hope, show them despair, dangle one last glimpse of salvation before their eyes, then plunge them into the depths of hell.”

That was how to empower a dharmastone. The process would make them more lustrous than any jewel, replete with curative potential—and the wielder of a Dharmic Blade would surely produce a dharmastone powerful beyond imagining.

Hiro raised Dáinsleif. “Those are the conditions. And now you’ve fulfilled them too.”

Luka lunged at him, her face twisted hideously. “Die, die, die, die die die DIE DIE DIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!”

In contrast to the blazing beauty of the dharmastone in the back of her left hand, her face was a mask of loathing. By the second, she descended further and further into a pitiful, bestial state.

“Hate me all you like.” Hiro smiled gently. “I’ll take it all.”

He dropped his hips. A white streak split the air, and her left arm flew away. For a moment, her feet lifted from the ground, but her momentum could not be stopped, and the maelstrom of violence she unleashed could not be halted.

“Aaaaaahhh! Give him back! Give him back! Give him baaaaaack!”

She swung wildly, her stance full of openings, but Hiro, weakened as he was, could not react quickly enough. He took the blow full-on. A grisly crunch echoed through the air. He couldn’t guess how many bones he’d broken, but he gritted his teeth against the pain and stayed standing.

“Only after people lose something precious can they become truly strong. And you will be strong indeed.”

Hiro’s arm shifted position. Sensing danger, Luka leaped back.

“It’s no use. You’ll have to run a lot farther than that to escape the darkness.”

Thence came Muspell—Mortal Terror.

Luka stopped dead. Only her eyes remained in motion, filling with surprise. Around Hiro, everything that lived had fallen free from time’s flow—grass, wind, insects, horses, and men, all likewise frozen in place.

“To slay time itself. That is the power of Dáinsleif’s Graal.” Hiro raised his black blade until it lay flat, the tip pointed at Luka. “All lives are beckoned likewise to nothingness.”

And he unleashed Schwartzwald—Deathly Stillness.

No change came upon the field. Time remained frozen in its tracks. Yet the pressure in the air magnified. A blood-chilling presence cradled the world. A moment passed in stillness, and then a gout of blood exploded from Luka’s chest.

“Wha...?”

She gazed dumbly at the crimson streak arcing through the sky. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped to the ground. No sooner had she fallen than Hiro collapsed to one knee, vomiting blood.

“Ngh... Looks like I didn’t quite cut deep enough.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, grimacing. Judging by the shuddering of her shoulders, she was still alive.

“Medics! Attend to her!”

A commanding voice pierced the air. Before Hiro’s eyes, a unit of medics converged on Luka.

“Truly, you are monstrous indeed.”

At last, the woman waiting on the back lines stepped forward. With her fan spread wide and an elegant smile on her lips, she looked every bit a legendary beauty—but on closer inspection, that smile had the calculating twist of a serpent regarding its prey.

“I fear I cannot lose her yet. From here on out, ’twill be me you face.”

“Jumping in at the eleventh hour, are you? Hoping to steal their glory?”

“Those who fall on the battlefield have only their own weakness to blame.” Lucia grinned without a hint of shame. “Had they the wherewithal to win glory, they would have done.”

With a wry smile, Hiro drove Dáinsleif into the earth and levered himself to his feet. “So is this it, then? Do we fight?”

“But of course. I do desire your head, after all.”

Lucia’s lascivious smile oozed pitch-black seduction that would bring any man to his knees. Here was a true femme fatale; she made Claudia look like a precocious child.

“I would prefer you not resist. I would rather keep that darling face intact.” She held up a glowing dharmastone. From the blood crusted on its surface, it could only have been Luka’s. “But fear not. I shall love your corpse no matter what becomes of it.”

All at once, her arm was a blur of motion. Her hand sank into Hiro’s stomach like a blade. A scream forced its way from Hiro’s mouth. It felt like she was rearranging his innards.

Lucia’s remaining arm folded around him lovingly as her cheeks flushed a sensual red. “Your battle lit such a fire in my breast,” she whispered. Her face was rapturous as her teeth closed hungrily on his ear, and sweet sighs tickled his eardrum as her tongue traced his earlobe.

At that moment, the Black Camellia mustered its strength, struggling feebly to move.

“Oh? Still you resist?” Lucia’s brow furrowed in an irritable frown, and she flicked open her fan. That slight gesture was enough to render the garment silent. She slowly retracted her hand, making certain that Hiro felt every inch of it. “I suppose you ought to know—I too bear a Dharmic Blade.”

Hiro groaned weakly. It felt like she was dragging his guts out of his body—like there was a hole where something important should be. If anything, however, the opposite was true. She had left Luka’s dharmastone behind within his body.

She gave a demure laugh. “Why so plaintive? Have you grown to miss my touch so soon?”

He wanted to say that she made him sick, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he only coughed up blood.

Lucia regarded his wan features for a moment, licking her gore-stained fingers. “Mmm. How delectable...and how deeply sinful.” She shot him a sidelong glance as she licked droplets of scarlet from the back of her hand like a cat. “So you too have partaken of the power of the Demiurgos—the Faceless King.”

Suddenly, she was flying. She plowed into the ground in the midst of the soldiers treating Luka. A dust cloud blasted up into the air. Voices rose, shouting after her safety.

Hiro rolled his shoulders. His face was as pale as a corpse, but a flame burned in his eyes—the flame of rage. He took a step forward...and collapsed to one knee.

“Ah,” he murmured. “Of course.”

Only then did he notice the blood pouring from his right shoulder. The hole in his stomach, too, showed no sign of closing, spewing forth a fearsome volume of blood to feed the soil. The power of the dharmastone had disabled his regenerative abilities.

He narrowed his eyes. “I’d love to know how deeply you had to search to find that out.”

The dust cloud dispersed, revealing Lucia standing unharmed. “Why, to the bottom, of course. I know all there is to know about you. Who you truly are, how you became the poor creature that stands before me now. She told me all.”

“And who is ‘she’?”

Lucia’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? I was led to believe that you were already acquainted.”

Hiro fell silent for a moment. “Nameless.”

They—she—lay at the root of everything. She was collaborating with Orcus and their desire to resurrect their Father, and it was she who had manipulated Stovell into starting his rebellion.

“Well, at least now my path is clear.” The whisper was for his own ears alone. He tensed his trembling knees and forced himself to his feet.

“Men!” a voice cried out. “Bring me the head of Hiro Schwartz von Grantz!”

The command dripped red-hot rage. It did not come from Lucia. Hiro knew its source immediately. Luka stood nearby, her treatment unfinished, leaning on a soldier for support, but glaring down at him with hatred in her eyes.

“I do not believe you command this army,” Lucia retorted.

“Silence! I will have vengeance for my brother!”

The soldiers watched with confusion as the commanders bickered, but in the end, it was Lucia who capitulated. She threw up her hands with an exaggerated sigh. “Very well. I ask only that the corpse remain recognizable.”

And like that, Hiro’s death sentence was pronounced.

“Farewell, Black-Winged Lord.”

“Bring me his head!” Luka’s rage-filled shriek echoed across the battlefield.

The ground began to tremble, shuddering beneath a horde of armored boots. Hiro’s already bloodless face blanched as he looked around. As far as the eye could see, soldiers were closing in on him.

There’s no way out. It looks like I’m not going to be able to keep my promise to Liz after all...

He had not set out on this mission intending to play the hero. He had simply wanted to repay a thousand-year-old debt. The kindness that his friends had once shown him, he wanted to return through Liz. Many might laugh at that reason. They might turn up their noses at its modesty. But for Hiro, it was enough; a reason he would yield to no one, precious enough to risk his life to uphold.

“So I’ll fight on.” He looked over the thirty thousand men surrounding him. “And through her, I’ll show them my devotion.”

At that moment, Liz’s face flashed through his mind.

Forgive me, Liz. I’m too awkward to express my feelings any other way.

A serene smile spread across his face as he gazed up at the sky.

But I have to die here. The success of my plan depends on it.

Blue skies spread out above him, high and clear and indifferent to the blood spilled below. The heavens were beyond anyone’s reach, beyond anyone’s claim. They extended without bound, the world’s true and only ruler.

I’ve bought the time I needed. I’ve left behind a path to the empire’s survival.

Now that his work was done, he looked toward his final battle.

I hope you can forgive me for saying goodbye by letter.

With a sheepish smile, he turned his gaze earthward. The clamor around him faded away.

Your worth as empress is about to be tested. Stay alert for any and all opportunities until you seize victory. You can afford a mistake or two. I’ve left countless possibilities at your feet; you need only stoop to pick them up.

He lifted the black dragon standard at his feet and set it upright once more.

“Well, then. What are you waiting for?”

His lips curled into a bestial grin as he tightened his grip on Dáinsleif. With no one left to ride to his aid, he strode over the corpses of his allies, glowering at the encroaching enemy. Their eyes widened in astonishment at his foolhardiness.

“Come on. See if you can overcome despair.”

He leveled his blade at the enemy soldiers and unleashed a slash. The stroke had little weight, but it contained uncommon strength. A garden of gory flowers bloomed in the span of an instant. Heads fell to the ground with a series of sickening smacks before the dead even had time to scream.

“He’s half-dead already! Don’t just stand around slack-jawed! Kill hi—”

Another slash. Another buzzing insect silenced.

This should be good enough.

With every man rushing to be first to claim the head of Mars’s scion, the enemy lines had all but disintegrated.

“I’m healed up now. No more playing around.”

Hiro spoke to intimidate the enemy, but in truth, his knees were shaking hard enough to buckle at any moment. His strength was about to run dry. Still, that was no reason to make this easy. People were waiting for his return. Summoning all of his strength, he braced his foot against the earth and launched himself forward.

“H-He’s a monster!”

He sprinted ahead, sparing time only on the commanders, cutting down only those poor souls unfortunate enough to stand in his way.

This isn’t good. I have to draw a little more attention to myself.

More foes had converged on him than he had anticipated. That would get in the way of his plans.

“Surrender! You’ve no hope!” an enemy officer cried, reaching for the sword on his hip.

Hiro closed the distance in a heartbeat. “You mustn’t care much about living if you won’t even ready your weapon.”

“Curse you—”

Before the officer could draw his blade, Hiro stepped on the pommel and leaped high. “Never let your guard down on the battlefield,” he said as he struck the man’s head from his shoulders.

He landed nonchalantly and surveyed his surroundings. A number of enemy soldiers had withdrawn and begun readying their bows. A fearsome number of arrowheads pointed his way.

“Not bad.” Hiro’s chilling smile never faded. “You’re thinking along the right lines.”

It was precisely because people did not have the strength to fight monsters barehanded that they had invented weapons at all. Bows were perhaps the ideal example; they were perfectly suited to overwhelming a foe with sheer numbers.

He sighed. “But what happens when you use them at close range?”

The order came to fire, unleashing a gale of arrows. When Hiro dodged out of their way, they fell upon the soldiers amassed behind him. It made for a pitiful sight. He almost felt sorry for them. How many lives were the enemy prepared to sacrifice to kill just one man? Still, the commander’s willingness to make heartless calls demonstrated their strength; they knew that a moment’s hesitation could spell defeat.

Hiro snorted. “They’re clever, and they don’t hesitate. They must really want to make sure I’m dead.”

Now that he had been stripped of the bulwark that was the Black Camellia, he only had one defense against the arrows descending on him: cutting down the concentrated deluge with his one remaining arm. In short, it was all he could do to avoid fatal injury. When the storm finally passed, the ground beneath him was so thickly carpeted with arrows that there was no space to walk.

“Ha ha... I’m not done yet...”

Tearing his feet free of the shafts pinning them to the ground, he took a step forward.

That took out my right eye...

One side of his field of view was mired in dark fog. When he rubbed the back of his hand against the affected area, it felt unpleasantly warm and squishy. Even so, his left eye still remained. Losing one arm was not a problem as long as the other functioned; similarly, the loss of an eye was no great matter as long as the other could still see.

Oh... I can’t feel my hand.

That wasn’t all. Hiro gradually became aware of other holes in his senses too.

My wounds don’t hurt anymore either. This can only mean...

“Now!” a voice cried. “Ready your blades!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“The honor is ours, men! We’ll live like kings! Finish him and take his— Agh!”

“I warned you not to get ahead of yourself. Now I need to cut you down to size.”

Forcing movement from his weakened limbs, Hiro lunged forward and lopped off the officer’s head. He wielded his sword with the detached precision of a machine executing a directive. The Abyssal Sovereign sliced the head from a stunned soldier’s shoulders with a gentle touch, crushed the skull of another who was turning to run, reaped lives wherever it—

“Ngh!”

The strength left Hiro’s legs, sending him sprawling.

“So this is the end...”

He couldn’t move so much as a finger. With his face pressed against the dirt, he felt his vision darkening.

“Take his head!” someone shouted. “Raise it high!”

A fist seized him by the hair and wrenched his head upward. Faces loomed down into his blurring vision, twisted with greed. Cold steel set against his neck.

“Hold! I will do this myself!” Luka emerged from the wall of soldiers.

“’Tis a poor commander who steals her soldiers’ accomplishments. I am beginning to think you are ill suited to the role.” Lucia appeared by her side, stone crunching beneath her feet. Her brows furrowed as though she were scrutinizing an exotic animal. “My, but what a futile show this was. Surely you knew that there was no escape. There is no undoing this defeat.”

Hiro snorted. “You’re the ones who’ve lost. Can’t you hear the sound of your defeat?”

“I hear nothing. But I don’t doubt that false hope rings sweet in dying ears.”

“Maybe so. But to me it sounds like Six Kingdoms’ downfall.”

“And to me, it seems your life ebbs away by the second.”

“Then I win.”

Hiro had seen through Lucia’s schemes from the very beginning. That the head of House Maruk and the rest of the central nobles were in bed with Six Kingdoms, that von Kirschia and the western nobles were in on it too—all of it. They would have been obstacles to the future that he hoped to build, but his reputation would suffer if he had executed them without proof. How, then, to get rid of them? The best way was to send them to die in battle against Six Kingdoms, which would also buy the empire time to assemble its defense.

“Really, I should thank you,” Hiro said.

“I was well aware that you had seen through my schemes—but seeing as all I desire is your head, I am nonetheless content with the result.”

“So am I.”

Lucia’s smile froze. “Excuse me?”

Hiro’s lips pulled into a sinister smile. “The final stage of my plan is the hero’s death.”

“Do you truly believe idle threats shall preserve your life?”

It was true that renowned warriors were easily deified. Someone as famous as a war hero would likely be venerated as a god. The military nation that was the Grantzian Empire would make full use of Hiro’s death; it would justify the war in the eyes of the people, and his deification would raise the soldiers’ morale. It could even lend them leverage in diplomatic negotiations with other nations.

“Your head is worth more to me than anything I might forfeit.”

“I’m glad. The success of my plans depends on it.”

“Defiant to the last...” Lucia snapped her fan shut with a sigh.

“Stand back, Your Majesty! If all is said and done, I will take his life!” Luka’s boots crunched as she approached and laid a keen blade against Hiro’s neck.

“You certainly kept me waiting.”

“Silence!” she barked.

Hiro lowered his gaze. The pebbles on the ground were trembling faintly. A savage grin spread across his face.

“Kept me waiting for far too long.”

The blade swung down.

＊＊＊＊＊

“Hiro? Are you listening?”

She brushed her crimson tresses back behind her ear as she peered into his eyes. Over her shoulder, the hillside was bathed in sunset hues.

“Sorry, what?”

“Oh, you’re unbelievable sometimes! I said, why did you decide to help me?”

He gave a rueful smile and shrugged. “Do I need to have a reason to help someone?”

She grabbed his cheek and tugged gently. “No deflecting, mister!”

“Yesh...”

Her physical punishments were always vicious. They didn’t hurt, but that only made them more effective at flooding his heart with guilt.

“I know I’m not very clever, and I bet that causes you all kinds of trouble. I mean, I can have a short fuse, and I often act without thinking...”

“Well, at least you’re self-aware.”

“You weren’t supposed to agree with that.” The corners of her mouth twitched. Apparently, she had been expecting him to push back a little. Still, she recovered quickly and clasped her hands behind her back. “Well, anyway, I suppose the point is, I want you to find something that you want to do.”

“What point? What’s this about?”

“If you really, truly think I’m worthy of the throne, from the bottom of your heart, then I want you to help me get there.”

He said nothing, letting her continue.

“I’ll get stronger. And wiser. That’ll take some of the weight off your shoulders, right?”

“Right.”

She gave a bashful little smile. His eyes half-closed as a sudden pang of solitude plucked at his chest.

She might not look anything like Artheus, but she’s got his heart.

What would he say if he was here to see her? If he was alive, in this age, in this time?

He would be surprised, no doubt. Perhaps he would even be moved to see himself reflected so clearly in his descendant.

And she’s nothing like Rey in temperament, but she’s got her looks.

No doubt the future his comrades had envisioned was different to the one that had arrived. Yet that did nothing to dim its brilliance. There was good and bad in every age. That was as true today as it had been one thousand years ago.

And if the future you dreamed of can be made, the path lies through her.

He narrowed his eyes against the setting sun.

But until the day her wishes take root...

He would shield her from all threats and protect her from all malice. That was the duty before him, his atonement for abandoning his past.

“By the black dragon’s roar is the world’s fabric warped, and by the lion’s roar is order restored.” He raised a hand to the heavens, still so far beyond his grasp. “Let the world hear us roar.”

Until her name echoes in your ears.