"Your father is being held by one of my allies."
The moment Aldebaran played his trump card like that, he keenly felt his own defeat.
132,044 — the number of matrix trials needed to clear a single problem, a habit of counting that had been drilled into him by the "
And just like the first time, Aldebaran had been defeated again.
He had laid out every preparation, devised every possible stratagem, and had opportunities to fine-tune his plans infinitely so long as his will didn't break — yet he had lost.
How weak his heart truly was — he was genuinely, truly sick of it.
A weak heart.
That was a far more potent poison than lacking talent, than having effort go unrewarded, than being loved by no one — something that made Aldebaran despise himself far, far more than any of those.
"————"
Through repeated trial and error against the "Dragon," the "Sword Saint" had finally succeeded in drawing blood.
That experience of success had been overturned by the absurd blessing of "Bleeding's Blessing," which made him grow stronger the more he bled, but having both arms rendered unusable was still a result.
Honestly, after fighting Reinhard — who had probably gone through battle after battle barely taking any damage — Aldebaran had harbored hope that inflicting pain might cast a shadow on the Sword Saint's invincibility.
But unfortunately, the strongest man in the world, the strongest in all of history, the strongest ever recorded, was also resistant to pain.
So even with both arms shredded to ribbons, his expression hadn't changed one bit.
That's why — "...I get it."
From directly above, looking down at Aldebaran collapsed in the sea of sand, Reinhard heard his words.
Grit in his mouth, the taste of blood from a split inside his cheek, his whole body aching and sore from being wrung by shockwaves — even so, he couldn't stay silent.
In over 130,000 fights, Reinhard's expression hadn't changed even when both arms were mangled like that. — But he'd seen Reinhard's face twist into something deeply anguished.
"I get it."
He piled the words of understanding toward Reinhard, who wore an expression like a child lost in a shopping mall after letting go of their parent's hand.
He piled them up, and continued.
"Family's always dragging us down."
"—! How can you be sure what you're saying is true—"
"Why don't you see for yourself? Take that Duke's... thing, the 'Wind Reader's Blessing' or whatever. The one that lets you see through lies. Just use it on me and see if I'm telling the truth."
"That is—"
"Can't do it? — You've got trauma around taking away someone's blessings, don't you?"
At that observation, a pained expression flickered across Reinhard's face.
The invincible, iron-walled "Sword Saint" — an ant hole appeared in his defenses. Like water overflowing through a crack in a dam. The more that water seeped through, the stronger Aldebaran's sense of defeat grew.
He couldn't win through "body" or "technique." And so, attacking through the "heart" — that was his foul play.
It was a visibly effective strategy.
What Aldebaran had failed to achieve in over 130,000 attempts could be accomplished without shedding a drop of sweat or blood, simply by being despicable.
And it was something that held no fault whatsoever for the young man born as
"Then why not corner him with logic?"
"...Logic?"
"That's right, logic."
Grinding his teeth, Aldebaran dragged himself upright on the sand as he pressed Reinhard into a corner.
If "Aldebaran" had woken up, there were ways to fight while maintaining the planted doubt.
But "Aldebaran" showed no sign of waking, and the key to breaking through the "heart" had already been used. So he had no choice but to use this key to force open the locked route. — That was what Aldebaran decided.
"As you can see, I went to every length to prepare for the 'Sword Saint.' Mountains of plans, the
" — The Divine Dragon,
"Strictly speaking, that was pulled off with a trick... but yeah. Even so, I had no certainty I could defeat you completely. And sure enough, it wasn't enough. So you understand, right?"
"————"
"Your father was the Princess's ally. There were countless... opportunities."
Of course, Aldebaran was certain that Priscilla hadn't taken Heinkel into her camp for that reason.
Arrogant and imperious, his beloved woman who publicly declared everything in this world to be hers — she forgave the beautiful and the ugly alike, without distinction of preference or aversion.
She would never have used Heinkel to crack Reinhard's defenses, nor would she have been repulsed by his nature or deliberately tried to hurt him.
The root of that intention was hidden deep within the fierce depths of her heart, like a flame — and so it could not be made clear.
— Or perhaps, it should have been.
Even at the cost of being scorched, even knowing the remaining arm — the one he still had after losing his left — would turn to charcoal, turn to ash, he should have groped through the fire.
If he had, then
"Lord Al?"
"I have not a single reason to hesitate. I can take that step without any trouble."
At Aldebaran's declaration, Reinhard's eyes narrowed slightly.
He should have given Reinhard enough information to be convinced — even the Reinhard who, for various reasons, didn't want to receive the "Wind Reader's Blessing."
"————"
Glancing over, Reinhard's injured arms showed no sign of recovery.
Reinhard, blessed by the world and loved by fate, supposedly had spirits flock to heal him when he was wounded — but the Augria Sand Dunes were filled to the brim with miasma, the natural enemy of spirits. So Reinhard's Fangael couldn't gather.
Perhaps no one besides Aldebaran had ever pushed Reinhard this far in the entirety of recorded history, and yet — "...What exactly do you ask of me?"
Strained, as though squeezing the words out, Reinhard came to the hostage negotiation table.
Accepting this, Aldebaran let out a long, long breath, believing the attempt to break through the "heart" had been worth it.
"Nothing grand. I won't make unreasonable demands like 'attach yourself to me like the Divine Dragon.' I won't ask you to betray your master either — I wouldn't do to others what I'd hate done to me."
"I can't understand it. Nor can I believe it. You're holding my father hostage, and now you want to speak of conscience?"
"What a shameless bunch — I sympathize with you for having to deal with such people. — My request is simple: just let me go from here. That's all."
"Let you go?"
The reply, carrying a nuance of impossibility, was met with Aldebaran nodding.
He had no intention of demanding Reinhard kill himself, or that he freeze the Council of Wise Men's movements in exchange for his father — no outrageous trade like that.
He understood this from the start. — Reinhard would not engage in hostage negotiation.
"————"
He genuinely worried about Heinkel's well-being. He didn't want to kill Aldebaran even as an enemy. And he was concerned about Flam and Ezzo, his comrades still in the tower.
And all of that human compassion, every bit of it, could be sacrificed without hesitation to maintain the balance of the world if it came to it.
Reinhard could sacrifice Heinkel — someone he genuinely cared about. He could kill Aldebaran — someone he didn't want dead even as an enemy. He could worry about Flam and Ezzo — comrades left in the tower — and let them die. — The "Sword Saint" was that kind of existence.
That was why only someone who could sacrifice even themselves for the greater good could become the "Sword Saint."
"One thing I'll say — letting me go from here won't change anything about the world. In fact, with two foul-play users removed from the Royal Selection, your master's chances of becoming king should go up."
"Lord
"Noble of her. But yeah, that tracks. If she were the kind of person to be okay with that, the Royal Selection would've been decided by elimination the moment it started."
This wouldn't work as a bargaining chip. He knew that too.
Despite the twists and turns, Priscilla had ultimately acknowledged the other four Royal Selection candidates. Those who met her standards would never agree to such a pointless trade.
In the end, this hostage negotiation itself was a farce whose conclusion was already clear.
No matter how many words Aldebaran used, the fact that he was a dangerous existence was proven by Reinhard's battered arms. Even if he insisted he was a safe man now, there was no room for belief.
The "Sword Saint" Reinhard van Astrea could never let Aldebaran go.
So then — what was the point of this whole exchange? The answer was obvious. — Everything Aldebaran had set up existed solely to fulfill what came next.
"— You came."
That Aldebaran sensed the subtle shift in atmosphere first was because, unlike Reinhard — who it was unexpected for — Aldebaran had been waiting eagerly for it. — The arrival of the thing that would end his endless battle with "Sword Saint" Reinhard van Astrea.
It was — "— Impossible."
Half a second after Aldebaran, Reinhard caught the presence and let out a stunned voice.
In all likelihood, in a life spanning roughly half of Aldebaran's, Reinhard had gazed into the abysses of various worlds that people of his age would never see.
Even in situations where the Divine Dragon Volcanica — bound by covenant to the Kingdom of Lugnica and supposed to share a bond of deep trust — had turned against him, he had remained composed and responded calmly.
And yet Reinhard was speechless. Can't be helped. Even he had never seen this before.
The
"— The Witch of Envy."
— It had been built to keep watch over what was sealed there.
△▼△▼△▼△ — That was around the time when Aldebaran's 132,044 battles had begun.
"I've done the emergency first aid, but..."
Saying that, Petra finished wrapping the bandages tightly and looked at the two injured people with concern.
The person Petra had been treating moments ago was Garfiel, unconscious and limp. They had carried Garfiel and Ezzo — who had collapsed at the very top of the Watchtower, on the uppermost floor — down to the fourth floor, and completed what treatment they could.
Petra handled Garfiel's care, while the other person, Ezzo, was tended to by — "This side's treatment is also complete. Thank you for lending me the tools."
"No, not at all. More importantly, are you okay, Flam?"
"Yes. Fortunately, Lord Al only restricted my movements and didn't harm me."
Flam gestured to her own body as she answered.
Hearing the name from her lips, Petra's expression clouded slightly. Flam was safe, but Garfiel and Ezzo were in critical condition — and that was none other than Al's doing.
Not just Flam — he hadn't laid a hand on Petra and the others either. But that didn't make Al's actions justifiable or forgivable.
"Are you two done with treatment?"
Petra had been silent, clenching her fist in frustration. The voice from behind her belonged to Meili, who had poked her head into the room. Meili, who had declined the role of medic under the guise of tower security, had a small red scorpion perched on her head as she regarded the bandaged Garfiel and Ezzo.
"Tooth's big bro and Sensei are both all wrapped up in bandages."
"...They both have terrible burns all over their bodies. If only one of us could use proper healing magic..."
"I'm sorry. Being around the young master saps my motivation to learn magic."
"Don't be so down, Petra. I can't even wrap bandages properly, let alone use healing magic. When I was doing it for Elsa, it was pretty half-hearted too."
Excuses that weren't really excuses, and comfort that wasn't really comforting — Petra's heart was no lighter for hearing them. There was the matter of insufficient aptitude for water magic, which served as healing magic, but the fact that Petra hadn't acquired the necessary skills here was undeniably due to her own lack of resolve.
"If only Garf would wake up..."
It would mean making him treat himself, but in
That was precisely why Petra, along with the others in the camp, hadn't anticipated that Garfiel would be the first to be taken out of the fight. — No. This time, the first to be incapacitated wasn't Garfiel.
"Subaru..."
Petra pressed her clenched fist to her chest, her lips forming that name.
Subaru and
It was something she didn't want to think about, but the possibility that their bodies had been erased without a trace crossed her mind.
"Judging by that helmet guy's attitude, that doesn't seem likely though?"
"That's cold comfort..."
"It's not cold comfort. Cold comfort would mean I'm lying to you for your sake, Petra. This is a real thought, not a lie."
"————"
"I can borrow the power of my magical beast friends, so it's not a big deal for me, but normally, getting rid of a body is really troublesome. So I think the helmet guy didn't kill Onii-san and the others, but took them away some other way."
Meili pressed a finger to her lips, her deduction born of unpleasant experience, and Petra furrowed her brow.
If Meili was right, and Subaru and Beatrice weren't dead, that was the best outcome. If they'd been taken somewhere, there was a chance to get them back.
What was Al thinking — "— No matter what Lord Al is planning, his scheme will surely crumble soon."
"My, my, you sound awfully confident about that."
Flam interjected suddenly, and Meili tilted her head with one eye closed. Busy fiddling with her long braid, Meili received a nod from Flam, who said "Yes."
"I won't go into the specifics, but I've conveyed the situation here to my younger sister, Grassis. Grassis is with the young master right now, so the same information should have reached him as well."
"Young master..."
"The 'Sword Saint' Reinhard van Astrea — that is our young master."
Somehow, as she said those words, Flam's chest puffed out, and she looked proud.
The "Sword Saint" — at the resonance of those words, Petra's eyes went wide, while Meili, who had been standing nearby, reacted with a "Wow" that could have been either distaste or sympathy.
"If the 'Sword Saint' is coming, then no matter what the helmet guy is planning, it'll be fine. If anything, I feel sorry for the helmet guy now."
"I can't believe Meili says that so casually..."
"The 'Sword Saint' was fighting the Divine Dragon like it was nothing, you know? Oh, but the Divine Dragon is on the helmet guy's side now, so maybe not..."
"...I'm not going to feel sorry for Al even if he gets beaten."
If anything, Petra couldn't help but think he deserved to be utterly, completely defeated.
Petra having her feelings trampled — that was fine. She barely knew Al, and having her trust in him betrayed hadn't hurt much.
The ones who truly hurt were the people who knew Al far better than she did.
Subaru and Emilia both genuinely worried about Al, and had endured missing time with the people they wanted to be with in order to make this moment possible. — Al had betrayed that.
"I can't forgive him..."
Sometimes, Petra felt that she was a terrible person with a small, unkind heart.
It wasn't just the anger she felt toward Al now. Ever since the incident surrounding the "
Her heart couldn't accept any of that, nor did she want to let it go. The only people Petra wanted to be kind to were those who didn't do things she couldn't forgive.
When she was surrounded by truly kind people, she thought of herself as such a terrible girl.
"You're plenty kind, Petra. I can vouch for that."
As Petra couldn't help but look down, Meili lightly patted her head. When Petra raised her face at the touch of her palm, Meili had some kind of strange expression.
Like she was exasperated with herself, or exasperated with Petra — that kind of peculiar look.
"...It'll be tough, but let's take Garf downstairs. Since he has his blessing, he might heal better if we lay him flat on the ground."
Petra made that proposal without addressing Meili's expression or the hand on her head.
Fortunately, neither Garfiel nor Ezzo were particularly large for men. And above all, Petra and Meili were the powerless girls they clearly were — "Understood. Let's carry Ezzo as well while we're at it. It's much more troublesome to split the nursing between upper and lower floors."
Saying that, Flam casually lifted both their bodies.
A girl of the same generation as Petra and Meili, yet her physical ability was incomparable. She was apparently a servant at the Sword Saint's mansion — could that explain her strength?
In any case — "It still feels like this isn't the end."
Al, having committed his outrageous deed, had left the tower with the Divine Dragon, and before long, he would be pursued by "Sword Saint" Reinhard, who would receive word from Flam's contact.
Meili and Flam seemed to think that whatever Al's purpose was, it would be ruined by this — but Petra couldn't bring herself to be that optimistic.
Maybe it was because she didn't know Reinhard directly.
But more than that, if Al — who had manipulated Subaru at will — hadn't prepared countermeasures against even this Reinhard, didn't that seem a little odd?
And if even Reinhard couldn't stop Al — "— Huh?"
It was just as Flam carried Garfiel and Ezzo out of the room, and Petra and Meili were packing up the travel supplies they'd laid out, preparing to follow. — While stuffing items into a bag, Petra felt an odd sensation deep inside and pulled it out.
It was — "...A book?"
In Petra's hand, having emerged from the bag, was a book — one that looked familiar. Extremely familiar, in fact. In this tower, there were quite literally mountains of them.
No question. This was one of the "Books of the Dead" from the extensive collection on the third floor.
That "Books of the Dead" existed — there was nothing strange about that fact.
But it was strange that this one was here. They had received strict advance warning from Ezzo not to remove any "Books of the Dead" from the library, and everyone had agreed to that.
And yet, a "Book of the Dead" had appeared from the bag. Moreover — "— Subaru's bag."
The bag in her hands — it was Subaru and Beatrice's bag, containing their personal belongings.
The bag with their changes of clothes, essentials, the "Beatrice Growth Diary" that Subaru had been writing, and other such items — a "Book of the Dead" had been secretly hidden inside.
"The name part... can't read it...?"
Swallowing her saliva, Petra examined the spine and furrowed her brow.
The spine of a "Book of the Dead" bore the title — in the case of a "Book of the Dead," that meant the name of the person whose life and death were recorded within. Indeed, she should have been able to read the titles on the spines of the "Books of the Dead" in the library, regardless of whether one had the right to read them.
But this book's title was unreadable. It had been scratched away, as if to make it illegible.
"————"
Petra imagined the identity of this book with its title removed, and the meaning of it being hidden in the bag.
The intention behind scratching out the title was obvious — to hide whose "Book of the Dead" this was. And the reason for hiding it in the bag was presumably to conceal the book's existence entirely.
And if this "Book of the Dead" had been hidden in Subaru's bag — "A book Subaru hid..."
"Petra? I'm done packing over here. How about you?"
"...Meili."
At that voice, Petra — whose hands had gone still — turned toward Meili. At first, Meili tilted her head at Petra's unusual demeanor, but when she noticed the book in Petra's hands, her eyes went wide.
"Petra, that book..."
"...It came from Subaru's bag. Maybe, in here..."
"In that book?"
"— There might be a clue to what's happening right now."
Gripping the book's binding tightly, Petra considered that this might not be such a wrong guess.
The sudden rampage in the tower — Al's original purpose had been to read the "Book of the Dead" of Priscilla Barielle, the deceased Royal Selection candidate. Or perhaps he had had a different purpose, but either way, the tower had been his objective.
And if that objective was this "Book of the Dead," and Subaru had judged that he must not hand this book to Al, hiding it in his own bag — If that had been the decisive rift between Subaru and Al — "If I read this book, I might understand."
"...I wouldn't recommend it. It seems dangerous."
"————"
"But... I understand how Petra feels, not wanting to end things without doing anything."
Meili said that with a look that suggested it was a real headache.
"Sorry," Petra stuck out her tongue quietly.
No matter what Meili said, Petra intended to do this. — She had been told ad nauseam by Subaru and Beatrice that reading the "Books of the Dead" was dangerous.
Ezzo had claimed that the trick to reading a "Book of the Dead" was to shut one's mind and empty it to nothing — but whether Petra could do that was uncertain.
However, Petra Reite was not the kind of girl who could quietly accept being left behind without doing anything.
So — "— Meili, if something happens, leave the rest to you."
"Asking me of all people — you really have no eye for this, Petra."
After that exchange, Petra took a deep breath and slowly turned the pages of the book resting on her knee — "— Ah."
— She touched upon the forbidden "memories" of this world.
△▼△▼△▼△ When that would happen — even Aldebaran had no certainty.
Perhaps the girls' hearts were more fragile than Aldebaran imagined, and they might dissolve into tears, unable to process what had happened, leaving the hidden card unturned.
If that had been the case, Aldebaran would have repeated another 130,000 atop the original 130,000, and continued that endless stack of Nabataean stones without end.
But — "I figured you girls would think that far ahead."
The girls who remained — Petra, Meili, and Flam — were three possessors of rare abilities: experience and wisdom beyond their years, and the fortune of having been raised in favorable circumstances.
After finishing treatment of the critically wounded Garfiel and Ezzo, they would not stand still but would take positive action, beginning to move — that was what Aldebaran had read.
And those girls, attempting to do just that, would find it. — A single "Book of the Dead," hidden meaningfully inside
For the girls who had nothing to rely on and had lost their way, it would have looked like the sliver of possibility Natsuki Subaru had left behind. If they could grasp that thread of possibility, they would surely find the light to escape the closed dead end.
They would never realize it was a trap Aldebaran had set.
That "Book of the Dead" — "— The book of 'Natsuki Subaru.'"
A thing that defied the logic of this world — truly a taboo, the "Book of the Dead."
What would happen when someone deciphered it — rather than explaining it in words, witnessing it firsthand was far more intuitive and impossible to deny.
It was — "— Impossible."
With his blue eyes wide open, Reinhard once again uttered the same stunned words.
But no matter how much he tried to deny that reality, it would not change. If "Sword Saint" Reinhard was a being blessed by the world, then that was a being cursed by the world.
Blessings and curses were two sides of the same coin — not a matter of which side held more power.
So — "Nobody but the Sword Saint can stop that."
Sitting cross-legged right there, looking over Reinhard's shoulder at the night sea of sand — lit only by starlight — and at the threat that continued to stain the scene pitch-black.
It came from the far eastern edge of the world's east, from a sealed shrine even further east than the tower where the "Sage" had dwelt — the very spot all existence turned its back upon. An overturning table, a symbol of ruin.
It surged forth fiercely, like a black tidal wave — a devilish hand forged from the "Witch's" miasma.
Touching upon the taboo and bringing the Witch of Envy into the world.
That was the time-delayed bomb Aldebaran had rigged specifically against Reinhard — "— You..."
"If you're going to come after me, then I'll resist with everything I have. Let me tell you — if you're gone, the world ends. And honestly? I don't care if it does."
"What are you..."
"Even if the world ends, I won't be destroyed. — That thing will keep going because it refuses to acknowledge me."
That was why Aldebaran himself couldn't be the one to pull the trigger on the bomb.
Only someone perceptive, wise, and brave enough to find a breakthrough could serve as the switch.
"Reinhard, I don't want to destroy the world. Quite the opposite."
"Gh—"
"I won't lay a finger on your father. — Go."
"Lord Al, don't assume everything will go your way."
Gritting his teeth in frustration, he probably hurled every insult he could think of. But even so, leaving behind an excess of noble knightly propriety, Reinhard turned and kicked off the sand.
Turning his back on Aldebaran and the others, Reinhard charged straight ahead — plunging headlong into the black magical hand bearing down on the Pleiades Watchtower.
— In that instant, Aldebaran experienced the illusion of sound, color, light, heat, and everything that should exist being torn away from the world.
"————"
The Sword Saint's white strike and the Witch's black destruction collided, producing a color that was neither white nor black.
It was comparable to the cataclysmic big bang that had occurred during the battle between the "Sword Saint" and the "Divine Dragon" — the starlight, the lightning bullets, the flames that reduced night to ash — and it continued.
And that big bang didn't end in a single flash. It continued, continued, continued.
Again and again, over and over, endlessly, without knowing conclusion, heat was born and light was born and color was born and sound was born — as if rebirthing the world, cleaving apart the world that was and the world that would be, they clashed.
— It was the unresolvable battle between the undying and the unkillable.
'...I was asleep. What happened?' His plan had succeeded. He had managed to pit Reinhard against the Witch of Envy.
The legendary clash between the "Sword Saint" and the "Witch of Envy" was taking place near the tower several kilometers away, yet its shockwaves were so terrifying they reached this far.
Sensing those shockwaves, or perhaps simply waking on their own, "Aldebaran" — who had been unconscious — came to.
Sprawled in an unsightly sprawl on the sand, a pose unbefitting the strongest dragon — "Aldebaran" narrowed his golden eyes at the shockwaves transmitted from beyond.
'Looks like you did pretty well.' "Yeah. The Witch of Envy was half-asleep, and the Sword Saint isn't in peak condition with the miasma and injuries to both arms... It was worth crossing 130,000 ropes. Think we can make it?"
'Just a scratchy throat and a pretty big chunk of mana drained from my mana tank dragon shell. Other than that, breaking through the sand sea by flying is no problem.' "Good. We can sync up about what happened while we were out later. Right now —"
As Aldebaran moved to stand, something flew at him with tremendous force from a great distance. "Aldebaran" swatted it away with his tail in the nick of time.
Bouncing and rolling across the sand was a mere pebble. — Presumably, something Reinhard had thrown at Aldebaran while fighting to hold back the Witch of Envy's magical hand.
'One after another! This might not end until we're completely out of sight!' Sheltered within the wings of "Aldebaran," who had spread them wide to shield him, Aldebaran admired Reinhard's sense of duty.
Understanding his role as the savior, and giving everything he had to the parts that weren't. — The "Sword Saint" was even more of a glutton than the person Aldebaran knew.
Thinking that surely it was the influence of someone by Reinhard's side — "— I told you, Hero. In the end, I win. Even if I lose a hundred thousand times."
Leaving words that could never reach, Aldebaran was seized by "Aldebaran" and soared into the sky once more.
In the night sea of sand, Reinhard standing alone against the Witch of Envy's obsession — darker than the night itself — looked like a martyr facing a great tsunami single-handedly.
Though, that martyr would, if anything, be left alone in a ruined world.
'If we coordinated now, couldn't we take out the Sword Saint in a pincer attack?' "And then what? If Reinhard's gone, there's no one to shut the lid on hell. We need him to play the role of the lid."
'Just saying.' "We can't afford to have him die."
From the very beginning, there had never been the slightest intention of killing Reinhard.
It was simply that without launching attacks powerful enough to kill, he couldn't achieve results that merely wounded. He had recognized that the "Sword Saint" was that high a wall.
"Don't assume everything will go your way, huh."
The wall. The martyr left behind in the world. Those parting words echoed in his mind.
Perhaps this too was the power of a blessing. If so, maybe he'd been granted something like a "Vital Point's Blessing" or "Weakness's Blessing" that had activated.
It was true — Aldebaran possessed the power to draw desired results to himself through infinite trial and error.
He had that power, and yet — "Not once in all this time has even a single thing I truly wanted to go well ever gone well."
Even after reaching the other side of 132,044 acts of resistance, for one utterly severed from both blessing and curse alike, that sense of defeat never faded.