"Hah? Why do I have to cooperate with that Weakling?!"
The Spiritfolk are a long-lived race. Their lifespans far exceed those of humans, they age slowly, and for that reason they lead lives as peaceful as plants.
For such an exalted race, the lifespan of "humans"—a species that is born, bears children, and dies at more than three times the speed—seems dizzyingly fast.
Many Spiritfolk withdraw into the forests and rarely venture outside. While part of that is looking down on humans of lesser ability, it's also because watching a species that bears such a similar appearance rush frantically through life makes their heads spin.
In that sense, Klyus and his companions—who had voluntarily abandoned that rich, unhurried existence to descend into human society—could be called remarkably active and curiosity-driven.
To Klyus's protest, his respected party leader—Lapis Fulgor, leader of the Star's Holy Thunder—narrowed her keen amethyst eyes and said in a resolute voice: "Klyus, this is an opportunity. The Thousand Transformations rarely deigns to take on missions at all. This is a chance to see how Lucia Roje—Myriad Forms at Will—obtained such tremendous power. This is, ultimately, a vital mission that connects to our future."
"But, Lapis. I'm not accustomed to being a bodyguard, I tell you. I might end up causing trouble."
He understood the logic. Klyus and his companions were more curious and ambitious than ordinary Spiritfolk. Not quite as unreadable as Elisa of the Wanderer, who was impossible to figure out, but Klyus didn't mind working cooperatively with humans. Still, he had his reservations.
As a Spiritfolk, Klyus carried the Spiritfolk temperament deep in his bones. He tried to be careful, but he still ended up angering humans more often than not. His speech also required conscious effort to maintain proper politeness.
If the other party were just a merchant, being rude wouldn't cause too many lasting problems. But with nobles—and the Emperor at that—there was no telling what might happen in the worst case. The repercussions wouldn't just affect the party; they would spread to the Clan as well.
He couldn't fathom what intention that vacant-faced Weakling had in approaching Lapis and the others.
At Klyus's words, Lapis nodded magnanimously.
"I don't know why he approached us, but following the Thousand Transformations' instructions should be the safe bet. And this is our chance to learn the source of that power, the methods behind it. This isn't just helping because we were asked. Klyus, this is a mission that only you can fulfill."
It was an important role. Having served as Clan Master for several years and resolved countless difficult incidents, Klyus now had the chance to investigate the power of the Thousand Transformations—an enigma that had long persisted. It would benefit the party, and Klyus himself was genuinely curious about how Lucia's power had been cultivated.
He clenched his fist and steeled himself. Then a thought occurred to him, and he looked at his leader.
"Come to think of it, why me? There's got to be someone more suitable among the other members."
At Klyus's puzzled expression, Lapis shrugged and said: "Oh, that... Among us, you're probably the one closest to the Thousand Transformations."
§ Honestly, Lapis had it completely wrong. Klyus wasn't particularly close to the Thousand Transformations. He only helped out of obligation as a noble Spiritfolk whenever he was asked to do things. He was simply fulfilling the duty that came with power.
Besides, the Weakling was Lucia's brother. Klyus dealt with him purely out of rational judgment.
And while the Weakling was flippant and dense, he wasn't a bad person—as far as humans went.
That was what Klyus had always believed.
That was why, when the scene that unfolded before his eyes was something utterly unbefitting a Spiritfolk, Klyus was simply stunned.
The great hall was a scene of carnage. The guards stationed to protect the Emperor of Zebuldia had all fallen, not a single one stirring.
The only one still conscious was Franz Argman, the knight order commander—Klyus's own employer.
Beyond the large windows, a dark space stretched out. Franz had dropped to one knee, glaring at Term with fierce eyes.
"Hah, hah... wh-what is... the meaning of this...?"
"Hmm... Your Majesty possesses the power of the Barrier Ring, but... could it be that you took the Princess's damage upon yourself? The armor's power? Were you not companions? ............ Well, no matter. But you'd best not move. You'll die soon enough... and what's more, your already dwindling lifespan will be completely depleted."
Term's expression was calm. And nearby, the Thousand Transformations also wore a smile that seemed plastered on.
Klyus couldn't understand. Or perhaps he didn't want to.
The reason the guards had fallen. This was—magic.
Extremely powerful, yet utterly silent magic. Magic designed solely to kill living things.
Spiritfolk did not use such fearsome magic.
The guards were still alive. Unconscious and unable to fight, but he could feel the pulse of life within them. However, they were gradually weakening. Without immediate treatment, they would die before long.
He understood by instinct. This was—efficiency. Because efficiency had been considered, they hadn't been killed in an instant. It wasn't mercy. They were going to die anyway, so there was no point in the "waste" of using magic to stop even their last breath. That was all there was to it.
Even when Klyus had witnessed the magic that wiped out the flock of Chill Dragons, he had sensed that Term's magic was cold to the core. He had thought it was his imagination, but his intuition had been correct.
Humans were terrifying. Because their lifespans were short, they grew quickly. Because they rushed through life, they killed without hesitation.
Was this—their true form?
A chill ran through him. The unfamiliar weight of the staff in his right hand. He opened his mouth on instinct, but what came out wasn't an incantation—it was a scream.
"Wh-what is the meaning of this?! Do you even understand what you've done?! Kechachachka, why didn't you stop Term?!"
"............Weren't you supposed to be persuading him, Thousand Transformations? Well, fine. Your fate is not in my hands. I have no quarrel with you. If you don't want to get hurt, step back."
"Ugh..."
"—?!"
With those words, Klyus understood the situation. He hadn't wanted to, but he understood.
The Emperor's expression, even now, held no panic. Only his gaze was razor-sharp.
Hand on the treasure sword at his waist, he addressed Term.
"I knew you were lurking nearby... but Term Apocris. Are you the 'Fox'?!"
"Indeed. But this is farewell. The ship will be falling soon."
There was no winning. Even if Klyus took him by surprise, he couldn't defeat Term.
Term's power was far beyond what should be possible for a human. He was likely a Grand Mage whose mastery of water-element magic surpassed even Lucia Roje's. And even now, with Klyus standing before him, Term Apocris showed not a trace of carelessness.
If there was any chance of victory, it depended on the power of the Treasure Weapon staff he had been entrusted with—but...
The Thousand Transformations' expression hadn't changed at all since Term had entered.
That helpless smile sent a wave of genuine dread through Klyus for the first time. If Term's words were true, then the Weakling was— No. He had already understood. He simply hadn't wanted to believe it. Besides, if Term was an assassin who had attacked, the first person he should have confronted was the Thousand Transformations.
On instinct, Klyus distanced himself from the Weakling and readied his staff.
Franz leaned on his sword like a cane, staggering to his feet. But his eyes were clouded, his expression deathly pale. His movements were sluggish—right now, even in close combat, Klyus would be the stronger one.
"Klye Andrich... so you are... the 'Fox'?"
Franz's breathing was ragged. There were no visible external wounds, but he was half-dead.
Even so, with feeble strength, he drew his sword. The tip of the well-polished blade trembled.
"I won't... let you. I absolutely... knew it was suspicious. Damn it, I knew it! His Majesty... I won't let you!"
"Impressive loyalty... but your downfall was underestimating us. The 'Fox' is... everywhere. We've already taken care of the other members. Let's see what the knight order directly under the Emperor of the Zebuldia Empire can do against the four of us."
It was obvious at a glance. Term was in perfect condition. The Emperor's swordsmanship was passable, but no match for Term.
No—nobody could match him. Even if Franz were unscathed, even if the rest of the knight order were alive, even if Klyus cooperated—once the Still Water Term and the Thousand Transformations had become enemies, there was absolutely no chance of victory.
"I believed in you—I misjudged you, Weakling!"
The Kilnight hadn't moved a muscle through all of this. The Kilnight was probably a Fox too. Come to think of it calmly, someone with such an ominous name was obviously no good.
Klyus calmed his surging emotions and thought clearly. There was no chance of winning.
The reason Klyus was still alive was probably the Weakling's orders. Were they trying to turn him? How insulting.
Klyus Argen would never betray his charge. Klyus was not someone who enjoyed scheming. If he had to live disgracefully, he would choose a proud death as a noble Spiritfolk.
The only thing he could do was escape. Put a hole in the ship and flee. The fall could be managed with magic—if there was no pursuit.
He couldn't save everyone. Priority one was the Emperor. Priority two was the Princess. Klyus steeled his resolve.
He would use a large-scale spell. He steadied his breathing and sharpened his awareness. A piercing killing intent and Term's immense, refined magical power filled the room.
Then, the Thousand Transformations, who had been silent until now, murmured with an expression that seemed somehow serious: "Fox...? ............What are you talking about?"
"............!?"