It was three years ago that Tarita first began to be plagued by nightmares of the "Heavenly Fate."
Until then, Tarita had lived a life completely removed from anything called "Heavenly Fate."
Naturally, she had been entirely ignorant of beings known as *Star Readers* as well.
—When people hear the words "Heavenly Fate," what comes to mind?
Destiny, fate—the unavoidable trials and obstacles along the path of one's life.
If those are what you're thinking of, then the Heavenly Fate is something distinctly different. It is like rain falling on a road without shelter—something utterly beyond prevention.
Even the Shudrak people understood such unavoidable events.
Bluntly speaking, "death" itself could be called the most inescapable fate.
Old age, illness, hunger, wounds—everything related to death is inevitable, a curtain that will surely fall.
No one can defy fate. Moreover, one should not try to defy it—that was the belief.
When a compatriot dies, they pray and sing for the soul to find rest.
Singing and feasting to send them off—that was the Shudrak way, and the values Tarita believed in.
Her sister Mizelda was an outstanding member of the Shudrak. Though not to Mizelda's degree, Tarita too came from a family that had inherited the chieftain's bloodline through generations.
Being Shudrak was an unquestionable truth for Tarita.
Following the teachings of the Shudrak left no room for doubt.
Originally, Tarita was not someone who excelled at thinking things through. She had no intention of troubling herself, of deliberately increasing her own worries.
She believed her life would always follow in her sister's footsteps, sharing the same blood and path as her compatriots of the Shudrak people, from beginning to end.
That was her destiny, her fate— "—Hey, Tarita. I've been chosen as a *Star Reader*, and I've been granted a Heavenly Fate."
—Until that day, when her closest "soul sister" confessed it to her.
△▼△▼△▼△ "Is this the destruction of the Empire—something different from the 'Great Calamity'?"
Before Tarita, whose resolve had been shaken and whose footing had grown unsteady, the masked man stared straight ahead.
In the distance, the writhing abyss of pitch-black darkness—the Great Calamity, which instinct recognized at a single glance. Yet the man, Abel, regarded it with scornful contempt.
"Then there's no reason to stumble along the way. —Disappear from the board, you trespasser."
Having declared outright that this thing was not welcome, that it was nothing but overwhelming tyranny, Abel stepped forward.
In that same instant, the diminutive Medium cried out from beside him, "Wait, wait!" She seized the hem of Abel's clothing and pulled back with her entire body.
"You suddenly got all fired up!? But it's too dangerous for you, Abel-chin!"
"Fool. What must be done was already decided. If that is the true Great Calamity, then our preparations are woefully insufficient. But if it's not..."
"If it's not?"
"Then it's nothing but a sideshow before the main act. I have no time to entertain sideshows. In that case, we put an end to this quickly. —Even you should be able to tell at a glance."
Abel tilted his chin toward the Great Calamity and asked Medium so. But Medium, not grasping the intent behind his words, scowled.
She looked back and forth between Abel and the Great Calamity.
"I have no clue! You're being cryptic again—it's your worst habit, Abel-chin!"
"You're blaming my poor explanation for the sluggishness of your own mind?"
"That's not the point! If I'm not convinced, I'm going to interfere! You're getting in your own way, Abel-chin! If you're so smart, you should see that!"
"———"
Medium stamped her feet and puffed out her cheeks, refusing to let go of Abel's hem.
It was an utterly shameless statement, but perhaps Abel deemed it too precious a moment to waste on entertaining it—he let out a small sigh.
"That girl,
"Hmm~ Another bad habit?"
"—It has a will. A clearly human will."
As Abel spoke, Medium tilted her head. "A will?"
Behind them, standing-still Tarita also furrowed her brows at this. That Great Calamity, which seemed to embody the end of all things, had a will?
Moreover, Abel had said a "human" will. Where in that thing could such a thing be involved?
The very idea of perceiving it as a living creature hadn't even crossed her mind.
Its bloated, writhing body scraping away at the world—that was pure annihilation itself.
What had Abel seen that led him to judge it possessed a will?
Just as Tarita and Medium arrived at the same question— "Earlier, it reached out toward you two."
"Eh?"
"—Ah."
Caught off guard by Abel's words, the two let out foolish sounds.
Medium had no idea what he meant, while Tarita felt a faint sense of unease. —When the falling shadow had swept the two of them away, Tarita had felt it too.
From that terrifying abyss of darkness, something like a faint obsession.
"Most likely, it reflects the will of someone writhing within it. Reaching out, grasping at anything in desperation to be saved. Look."
Before Tarita, who held her breath, Abel extended his hand toward the Great Calamity this time.
Drawn by that gesture, Tarita and the others looked and widened their eyes, understanding Abel's observation.
In the center of the Demon City, where the collapsed Crimson Agate Castle once stood, the Great Calamity sat in its place, spreading outward with merciless destruction and finality—extending pitch-black shadows, sweeping them about, seeking to consume everything into its own annihilation. Its targets were not buildings or earth, but people.
And more specifically— "—Rui-chan and Yorna-chan are the only ones being targeted?"
Medium's hoarse whisper matched the impression Tarita had as well.
Watching the fierce battle against the Great Calamity from a distance, one could immediately see the bias in the shadow's aim.
The primary targets were Yorna, who fought in sweeping battles left and right, and Rui, who evaded the pursuing shadows with instantaneous movement.
Tarita was struck by Rui's incredible agility, but Yorna's offensive and defensive power—the might of a "Nine Divine General"—was equally extraordinary.
However, there was also the thorn user—the man of the Insect Cage tribe who demonstrated restraining power rivaling Yorna's, minimizing the Great Calamity's damage time and again. He was no less formidable. Yet the attacks directed at him, including even those hurled by the Demon City residents who threw buildings, were merely stray arrows.
"If Rui-chan is being targeted too, then it's not going after the strongest first, is it?"
"If we're talking purely about power, Kafma Irulux is not far behind. But if you look at it from above, the reasoning is self-evident. It has a will. In that case, it makes sense for me to move."
"H-How can you say that...?"
"It's obvious. That thing would hardly look favorably upon me. If it's reaching out in desperation, I wouldn't even be a candidate."
At Abel's detached words, Tarita sensed something incomprehensible.
She understood Abel's reasoning in defining the Great Calamity as a being with a will. But even accounting for that, it was strange that he could see through the Great Calamity's criteria for judgment.
It was as if Abel already knew whose will the Great Calamity's will belonged to.
"—
"—!?"
"Eh!?"
As if pushing past Tarita's doubts and Medium's incomprehension from behind, Abel declared without looking away from the Great Calamity.
Staring wide-eyed at the two of them, Abel lowered his chin deeply.
"That is something that overflowed from within Natsuki Subaru. So it would be strange for his will not to be involved. I had already considered him a man with many secrets, but this is beyond what I imagined."
"Wait, Abel-chin... Are you saying that thing is Subaru-chin!?"
"To be precise, it's something that permits the reflection of Natsuki Subaru's will. I'm not saying it is him, nor that he controls it. —Either way, the result is the same."
"Why can you be so calm about this, Abel-chin!?"
With round eyes and a voice on the verge of tears, Medium pleaded.
Looking down at her small form, Abel narrowed his dark eyes behind the mask—as if scorning an emotionally willful child causing trouble for adults.
"Does it look like I'm calm? His spilling that thing from within has ruined my plans. I need to reconsider, but there's no time. Even so, does it really seem like I'm calm?"
"No! That's not it, that's not what I mean! What I mean is... Subaru-chin is crying out for help, isn't he? So why are you so calm about it!?"
"—Would comforting yourself with his suffering resolve the situation before us? Unfortunately, reality is neither that flexible nor brimming with fraternal love."
Medium's earnest words could not sway the steel of Abel's heart.
Because he was cold, because he did not understand the hearts of others—no, because he was a man who did not place weight on the hearts of others, and at the same time, could clearly distinguish what must be prioritized.
The quality that those in positions of power—rulers and leaders—must possess.
The same would be required of Tarita, who would have to assume the seat of chieftain.
But— "I could never..."
She could never hold the same kind of thinking, the same decisiveness as Abel.
Much less could she, like Medium, raise her voice directly against something she found repugnant.
"Even arguing here is time wasted. I'm going. I need to speak with Yorna Mishigure."
"...Yorna-chan? But how?"
As Abel moved to step forward, unwilling to entertain any more questions, Medium interjected, and her gaze spoke volumes about the difficulty of that advance.
Where Abel declared he would go—to speak with Yorna—awaiting him was the front line against that rampaging Great Calamity.
A battlefield where even transcendents' split-second decisions determined life and death.
If Abel walked right into that, he would only be putting his life in danger, without even reaching a move that could change the tide of battle.
"— — —"
The thought of changing the tide of battle froze Tarita's entire body.
Perhaps she alone held that option. That repulsive Great Calamity, spreading its finality—only Tarita knew how to pacify it.
Only Tarita, who had been granted the Heavenly Fate to vanquish the Great Calamity, knew— "—I'll step forward too."
"What?"
On the verge of a momentous decision, Tarita trembled.
Beside her, Abel's voice carried a note of doubt at Medium's declaration. His dark eyes flickered, peering into the heart of the young girl who had stopped him.
"What are you thinking? Were you even listening to me? My reason for stepping forward is that it does not look favorably upon me. If you come along—"
"I already know! That's why I'm not going with you! I'm going to where Rui-chan and Yorna-chan are fighting! I'm going to make Subaru-chin find me!"
"— — —"
"If Abel-chin's theory is right, then Subaru-chin will reach out to me, right? If that happens, Rui-chan and the others won't have to work quite so hard. And maybe Abel-chin won't be targeted either."
"The likelihood of me being targeted is already low."
"Maybe even lower! Right!?"
Medium stepped forward emphatically, underscoring her candidacy.
For a moment, it was clear Abel was seriously considering Medium's proposal. As she said, if the Great Calamity's targeting reflected Subaru's will, then the probability of Medium being targeted was high.
But the worry was that Medium, already shrunk and less mobile, would offer to draw the Great Calamity's attention and then be swallowed by the shadows before fulfilling her role. That was entirely possible, and it would cause a mental shock to everyone nearby.
Tarita herself couldn't imagine remaining composed if Medium were lost.
Medium, who was lively and spirited, who approached without fear—she was one of the people Tarita was fondest of. Tarita couldn't even face her brother, Frop, if that happened.
—Then again, could the current Tarita face anyone at all?
"Rejected."
"Abel-chin!"
"I considered it for a moment, but in that state, she couldn't even serve properly as bait. The impact of her death on those around us would be a greater concern. I cannot take such a gamble."
Standing beside the foot-stamping Tarita, Abel rejected Medium's proposal for the same reason.
But Medium's clenched teeth showed she wasn't convinced. She might ignore Abel's judgment entirely and charge onto the battlefield, screaming toward the Great Calamity.
At that precarious moment— "—Then I'll protect Medium-chan. That should shut everyone up."
Stepping over the rubble, a newly arrived figure's voice cut in.
Hearing that familiar voice, Tarita, Medium, and Abel each turned in their own way to look at the newcomer.
Slung at his thick right arm was a blue dragon blade, and his face was covered by an unsightly rag of cloth, giving him a suspicious appearance. He hadn't seemed particularly powerful before, but for some reason, at this moment, in this place, the man—Al—stood radiating a fighting spirit that demanded attention.
"Al-chin!? You've gotten big... You turned back to normal!?"
"Just ran into the old man who'd snuck back out. Didn't have time to go back to the inn and get my helmet, so it's a rough look for now—try not to judge."
"You look really cool! But if the old man is here..."
Aside from the rag wrapped around his face, Al had returned to his original state. Medium's voice brightened at his words, and she looked around.
Naturally, she herself, in her current state, would want to choose the option of returning to normal too.
But Al added a single word—"Sorry"—at Medium's expression.
"Sorry, but I couldn't bring the old man. He told me to fight smart."
"Hmm~ Aw. Yeah, I get it! But I'm glad you at least came back, Al-chin! Has the scary feeling gone away?"
"...I don't think the scary feeling ever really goes away."
Medium's eyes dimmed for a moment as her hope was taken away, but she immediately bounced back. Receiving her words, Al lowered his voice and shook his head.
In his tone, fear and anxiety seeped through, impossible to hide. Before that Great Calamity, everyone felt primal terror. No one could be blamed for that.
But even as Al carried that unvarnished fear— "Even so, we gotta do it. ...Bring it on, fate."
"Al-chin..."
Medium's face filled with admiration at the conviction in Al's raising the blue dragon blade.
Into their exchange, a small snort cut in— "How quickly you've gone from trembling in a pathetic heap to talking big. That Orvalto Dunklecken shouldn't have it in him to inspire others."
"That much is true. That old man just said whatever pissed him off. I didn't stand up because of anything he said."
"Then what made you stand? How do you convince me that you—having been rendered immobile like that—should be included in my plans going forward?"
"— — —"
Abel, still held back by Medium gripping his hem, questioned Al.
Behind the mask, those cold, calculating eyes were surely still turning over thoughts for the victory to be snatched. For Al to join that calculus—how would he persuade Abel?
Having Abel's gaze fixed upon him, Al spoke without hesitation— "Sorry, but I'm not gonna waste words trying to satisfy Abel-chan's doubts."
"Oh?"
"My only master is that pervy-cute princess. I latched onto you all to help out my brothers—so that's what I'll do. You can work me into your equations or whatever however you like, Abel-chan."
Declaring this with an air of finality, Al slung the blue dragon blade over his shoulder. That refreshing detachment made Abel's masked expression stiffen slightly.
But even if it wasn't the answer he wanted, Abel had neither the power to drive Al away nor a relationship close enough to hold him. It was exactly as Al intended.
Whatever the case, Abel had to formulate his strategy accounting for Al's existence.
"Returning to your senses just makes you a more troublesome fool. How will you handle it?"
"Trade secret. —Anyway, I won't let Medium-chan die. And I'll protect you too, Abel-chan, so don't worry about it."
"Al-chin..."
With the Great Calamity's rampage before them, Al's answer was powerful indeed.
Medium's eyes went wide at his words—surprise and respect that Al had risen from the "pathetic heap" Abel had described.
And so, Medium nodded deeply with her entire small body.
"I'll do my best with Al-chin! Is that okay, Abel-chin?"
"—Your presence was never part of my plans to begin with."
"Well, I appreciate that. Just hearing 'unexpected fighting force' makes it sound like I'm getting special treatment. Kinda pumps you up."
Shrugging at Abel's answer, Al stepped forward, and Medium fell in line beside him. Only then did Medium finally release Abel's sleeve.
Shaking free his arm, Abel let out a small sigh and turned to face the Great Calamity.
Then— "—Tarita."
"Hn..."
"If you want to take a shot at my back, go right ahead. But heed this. —Whether you follow the Heavenly Fate or defy it, in the end, you have no choice but to choose for yourself."
Without turning toward Tarita, Abel let those words carry over his shoulder, and his feet advanced toward the battlefield.
Medium and Al, facing the same direction, accompanied his advance.
"—!"
Only Tarita could neither move forward nor backward, left to watch the backs of the three recede.
The words Abel had spoken moments ago echoed in her mind again and again, a self-admonition. She nocked an arrow to the bow in her hands. If she shot Abel in the back, the matter would be simple.
But if it were simple enough to just jump into, Tarita wouldn't be this tormented.
"To follow the Heavenly Fate... or to defy it... I... I..."
Biting her lip hard, Tarita bowed her head, enduring the welling heat behind her eyes.
She had neither the resolve to raise the arrow she gripped nor the courage to spit out the feelings churning in her chest.
As violent tremors and roaring shook the crumbling Demon City around her, Tarita bowed her head.
—Just as she always had, swept along, mocked by the stars.
△▼△▼△▼△ Fiercely, a wind raged through Yorna's chest as she held back the encroaching abyss of darkness.
"— — —"
Wielding her pipe, she created a wall of purple smoke to block the Great Calamity's attacks and suppress its expansion.
Between strikes, she fired fragments of the city as projectiles into the Great Calamity, hoping to wound it even slightly.
Over and over, she repeated these measures while fending off shadows that could end her life with a single graze, devoting body and mind to every possible counter.
But this war of attrition couldn't last.
"—Why are you losing heart?"
Snarling at the weakness piercing her own chest, Yorna twisted her beautiful lips in rebuttal.
Whether it had any effect or not, she had no intention of taking back the harsh words she'd cut at Abel. This city was Yorna's, and those who lived in it were under her protection.
The last fortress for those who had nowhere else to go—she couldn't afford to lose it— "Gwuaaaaaah!"
"Child...!"
Suddenly, a torrent of black miasma poured down upon Yorna. Before she could react, a small shadow appeared sideways and latched onto her waist, and in the blink of an eye, the world changed.
For a moment her head swayed, but the next instant she saw the earth ravaged by devastation a few meters to the side, and Yorna understood she had been saved.
The one who did it was the blue-eyed girl with golden hair pulled into a single braid—Rui.
Heaving her slender shoulders roughly up and down, Rui's lovely face mixed with a fierce look as she opened her round eyes in anguish, glaring fixedly at the Great Calamity.
But she wasn't looking at the Great Calamity itself—she was looking at what lay within it.
"You're worried about that child, aren't you?"
"Uaau...!"
At Yorna's words, Rui answered briefly, and then her small form bounced like a ball toward the Great Calamity.
There, Rui hopped around the upper portion of the Great Calamity—the blob-like, amorphous Great Calamity had no head, but in the place where a head would be—to draw its attention.
Targeting Rui's tiny body, shadow arms launched one after another—nearly a hundred of them. She dodged every last one, and her contribution to preventing the spread of damage was immeasurable.
Without her, Yorna and the Demon City residents alone could never have held the Great Calamity in check. That realization was chilling.
"Use this, child!"
"Aau!"
Supporting Rui's breakthrough power were the thorns extending from both of Kafma's arms.
He provided footholds with his vast thorns, assisting Rui's evasive movements with practiced ease. Of course, the thorns left behind were consumed by the Great Calamity, but Kafma seemed unaffected—true to his serious demeanor, his steadfast performance continued.
Behind the offensive and defensive efforts of Rui, Kafma, and Yorna, the Demon City's residents also continued to resist the Great Calamity in small but meaningful ways. Those with flames flickering in one eye were under the influence of Yorna's "Soul Marriage Art," which bolstered their power.
But power boosts varied by individual and had limits.
Moreover, Yorna's Soul Marriage Art had the nature of favoring the weaker party.
It could make the weak able to face the strong, but it was not something that could make the strong capable of contending with even stronger opponents.
That was simply a difference in the quality of the soul, something Yorna couldn't control.
And therefore— "—It's been only a few minutes."
It felt as though an immeasurable, endless stretch of time had passed, but since the Great Calamity had swallowed the Crimson Agate Castle and the full-scale battle had begun, only a few minutes had elapsed.
Even so, the exhaustion of Yorna and the others was far beyond what could be dismissed.
In the heart of a death zone, with nerves constantly stretched toward fatal wounds—that was simply how it was.
That was perhaps the difference between true warriors and Yorna Mishigure, a woman who had merely been granted power by chance.
She was not so blessed that she could recklessly challenge the Great Calamity and wrest victory from it—unlike the true warriors who might be able to whittle it down.
That self-awareness was, in its own way, the strength of Yorna Mishigure, ruler of the Demon City.
And then— "Uoooooh—!!"
Into what seemed a hopeless war of attrition, a battle cry heralded the arrival of a new combat force.
With a force befitting the phrase "hurled into the fray," it was a small girl who charged in with a barbarian blade at the ready.
Her boisterous energy matched her appearance perfectly—her long braids swinging as she burst onto the scene, throwing the awareness of everyone on the battlefield, including Yorna, into confusion.
As it should. What difference would one girl make in a battle like this? She looked nothing more than a brave but foolhardy child whose courage would prove her undoing.
Moreover, this strange intruder was not alone.
"Let's go, Medium-chan! Time for our grand entrance!"
Shouting this was the masked man landing behind the girl, the blue dragon blade slung over his shoulder. The same man who had visited the castle tower as an envoy the day before, but this time wearing a mask instead of a helmet, and holding the blue dragon blade in a peculiar way.
For some reason, the blade was pointed at his own neck as he charged forward in a dangerous posture.
One slip and he'd accidentally lop off his own head.
In any case, the confusing entrance of these two froze the battlefield's atmosphere ever so slightly.
But the only ones affected by that freeze were the defenders, who had to divide their attention in the chaos. The Great Calamity, which possessed no will of its own, felt no surprise at the intruders.
Even so, whether it was annoyance or something else, the fact that most of the shadow arms it launched were directed not at Yorna or Rui but at the charging girl was notable.
Yorna instinctively moved to protect her, but— "Right! Step on the foothold and fly! Hook your toes on the rubble—now go up!"
"Unryah!"
The masked man shouted, and the girl bounced in response.
Following his direction, the girl leaped right, stepped on a rubble fragment, and launched forward. When her foot reached the rubble ahead, she used her finger strength to vault high into the air.
The shadows sequentially swept over the positions the girl had occupied, carving and engulfing them.
But she barely managed to evade them all and came through unscathed.
"That's..."
It was the same scene she had seen at the castle tower the day before, when the envoys who had accepted Yorna's challenge were targeted and attacked by the emperor's—or rather, the one posing as the emperor's—forces.
That masked man had survived Kafma's thorns and Orvalto's attacks by directing allies on how to defend, and that was the extent of his notable abilities.
Was he frighteningly perceptive, or was there something more?
Probably the latter, but she couldn't guess what.
Even so, the situation had changed.
"Al-chin! What's next!?"
"Don't rush me, this takes concentration! Hey, you over there—the tattooed guy—lend a hand! I'll call the shots! Block that thing's movements!"
"Refuse! Why should I take orders from someone as dubious as you—"
"Up! Spread your thorns wide!"
"Mm!?"
The girl's command and the masked man—Al—called out to Kafma.
Naturally, Kafma had no intention of obeying an unknown quantity, but the encroaching pitch-black shadows responding to Al's shout proved there was no time for debate.
Kafma ducked and raised his arms overhead. Thorns spread from them, and the wave of shadows deflected as if flowing over the thorns.
Of course, the thorns couldn't withstand the shadow that carved away everything, but that bought one second—enough for Kafma to save his life.
Leaping into the gap and escaping, Kafma glared at Al. "You...!"
"You can read that Great Calamity's movements?"
"I have a certain history with it. Feel like listening now?"
"—If it reduces the damage, I suppose I have no choice. But if you're bluffing, I won't forgive it!"
"You're more flexible than I thought. Appreciate it."
When Kafma readily acknowledged his advantage, Al moved forward with a wry smile.
And then, once more directing the girl and Kafma, with the blue dragon blade still aimed at his own neck, he began commanding the front line against the Great Calamity.
Alongside that battle— "—Yorna Mishigure."
"Master..."
At the unexpected combat deployment of Al and the girl, Yorna—who had been about to join them herself—shifted her attention to the masked figure—Abel—who appeared over the rubble.
It had been only a few minutes since their parting, but he wasn't the kind of man to change his mind so quickly.
The rift between Yorna and him was perhaps not something easily wiped away by the passage of time—an unsettling thought that crossed her mind.
As if reinforcing that thought— "Have you cooled your head enough to reconsider the proposal to abandon the Demon City?"
Indifferently, coldly, Abel re-tossed the proposal Yorna had once rejected.
Obviously, with the heat of battle surging in her veins, the words "cooled your head" didn't suit the situation. Since nothing about their circumstances or relationship had changed, Yorna's answer remained the same.
Noting that arguing was pointless, Yorna turned her back on that cold-blooded emperor.
"You once said this was the last refuge for those who had nowhere else to go."
"— — —"
"It amounts to the same trivial sentiment. But I will correct your mistake."
"My... mistake?"
At the pointed remark, Yorna halted her step toward the battlefield.
There was no way Yorna could be mistaken about this city—Chaos Frame. This was Yorna's city, and every resident was her beloved child.
What possible mistaken understanding could Yorna have about them?
"What exactly do you believe I am mistaken about, if I may ask?"
"What those without a place to belong cling to and rely on is not this city. It's you."
"— — —"
"This city was built on barren land and the remnants of war from the start. The Crimson Agate Castle was erected as its symbol, but the true symbol was always in the tower. That is to say, you."
Abel's gaze, repeated and unwavering, pierced into Yorna.
The weight and intent of his words struck her eardrums, and Yorna's cheeks stiffened.
The logic, she understood. But it was a pretty sentiment.
Even if Yorna was the spiritual pillar of the Demon City's residents, the reality was that when it rained, they needed shelter, and when they were hungry, they needed food.
The city could provide those things, but Yorna could not cover all of it herself.
"Or does Master believe that if I am here, the children will endure hunger and not mind being rained upon?"
"—They would say that themselves."
"Eh..."
"Do you think all those under your banner are nursing infants? That they will be coaxed if they fuss and wait to be fed? —That differs from my assessment."
At Abel's words, Yorna drew a quiet breath.
Immediately after, a tremendous roar erupted behind them, and debris caught in the Great Calamity's rampage flew toward Yorna and Abel. One piece landed right beside the standing Abel, the impact striking his slender frame and tearing the mask from his face.
"—!"
The bared white face—a cut on his forehead where the fragment had grazed him, blood tracing down—but the handsome man's expression didn't so much as twitch. He picked up the fallen mask and gripped it.
And then, face exposed, Abel—no, Vincent Wallachia—glared at Yorna.
"The common folk are fools. If it doesn't hurt, they forget to resist; if there's no enemy, they don't even armor themselves. They don't know how to band together without calamity, and they turn their faces from death, terrified of it."
"— — —"
"But it is that weak, self-serving foolishness that makes them who they are. The Empire bound the people with iron and blood, and in the Demon City, your very presence set the standard for the residents' way of life. Therefore—"
He paused, and Abel turned his gaze into the distance. Following it, Yorna saw the residents—burning with love for this city in their eyes—fighting to hold back the Great Calamity.
They who fought on, courageously trying to protect this city.
No— "They would endure hunger and rain for your sake. And they would choose to hope, together with you, for the day the sun rises again and their bellies are filled."
Therefore— "Abandon the Demon City. Their destination is the same as yours. And the one they rely on is you yourself."
"—Ah."
"Or will you lament that you cannot? Between your own wishes and desires that can never align, no matter how you struggle."
As he spoke, Abel wiped the blood tracing down from his forehead with his sleeve and replaced the mask on his face.
Once more, his expression was hidden behind the mask that disrupted recognition, but the words he had just spoken sank deep into the depths of Yorna's heart, lodging like thorns that could not be pulled free.
From the moment she had read his letter, Yorna knew that Abel understood her desires.
But to bring that up here—there was no warmth in it whatsoever. And it was precisely that lack of warmth that constituted the quality of ruler the Wallachia Empire required.
That was precisely why— "If I abandon the Demon City and flee from that Great Calamity, what then? Even after devouring this city, it might not stop."
"Even now, you're testing me? You already know."
The true meaning behind the words of abandoning the Demon City and letting the Great Calamity run rampant.
At Yorna's question, Abel tilted his chin and responded with displeasure. His gesture pointed to the Great Calamity itself—no, to the footing of the rampaging Great Calamity.
That place was none other than the site where the Crimson Agate Castle had stood when the Great Calamity appeared— "What it did to the castle, it will do to the Demon City. —While what it swallowed in the castle may not have been enough to blow it away, the Demon City you love is another matter entirely."
△▼△▼△▼△ "— — —"
In the distance, the hem of his attire fluttering in the wind, sharp dark eyes observed the Great Calamity that was destroying the city.
Yorna's strategy to limit the spread of damage as much as possible appeared to be bearing fruit, thanks to the contributions of Kafma, the city's residents, and the unexpected reinforcements.
But even that wouldn't last.
The threat of the Great Calamity—the darkness itself—was simply that overwhelming.
Perhaps in ancient times, people witnessed such a thing and, bracing for the end of the world, passed down legends to tell their descendants of survival's terror.
The greatest among those was the
But— "—Is this yet another calamity, different from the one that destroyed the Empire?"
"Indeed, indeed. Boy, you've got me. I never expected things to go this far—I'm honestly feeling so shaken I've forgotten my place and want to complain to the stars, if you will."
With arms crossed, standing at a high vantage point—Vincent was joined by a blue-robed *Star Reader* crouching beside him, watching the same spectacle.
This man had joined them without any warning along the way, and his response to the rampaging Great Calamity was a consistent "A-ny-way, this is outside my jurisdiction!"—nothing but shirking responsibility.
But what the eyes saw didn't lie—that was one of this *Star Reader*'s few virtues.
If this *Star Reader* said so much, then this calamity must indeed be a different problem from the Empire's predicted destruction.
In other words— "Oh, here he comes, here he comes. Phew, that was actually pretty nerve-wracking."
"Oh my, Orvalto the Elder."
Behind the pensive Vincent, the old man appeared with a light presence. Having already been named by the *Star Reader*, Orvalto grunted "Oh, oh" as he nodded.
Vincent glanced sidelong at Orvalto as he walked up beside him and furrowed his brow.
"Where did you lose your right arm?"
"Sharp as always, Your Excellency. If I told you I'd slipped my right hand into Your Excellency's pocket, that'd get a laugh, but no—got swallowed up by that massive shadow."
"My, my. That sounds like quite a painful experience."
"Oh, painful doesn't begin to cover it. At my age, I was almost wailing like a little brat. Embarrassing, embarrassing."
Flapping his arm that ended in nothing below the wrist, Orvalto grumbled.
Paying no mind to Orvalto's and the *Star Reader*'s little act, Vincent looked at the battlefield once more.
The Great Calamity writhing at the site of the Crimson Agate Castle, and the city's forces holding it back.
The strategy to defeat the Great Calamity had already been conveyed to Yorna.
As for the rest— "By the way, Your Excellency, is it really okay for you to be standing around here so leisurely?"
"No matter."
At Orvalto's tilted head and question, Vincent answered quietly.
Conveying the strategy to Yorna and persuading her—that was their task. In exchange, Vincent understood his own role that must be fulfilled.
And therefore— "The move has been made. —As Vincent Wallachia, Emperor of Wallachia, the move that must be made."