The victory celebration was held in Baim.
It was held with all sorts of meanings behind it. Baim hadn't been particularly involved in the fighting, but this party was organized to demonstrate that the battle was ultimately Baim's victory.
The Guild executives who had participated.
And the merchants.
The captains of famous mercenary companies.
Among them, I attended alongside Vera. The other members were on standby at the manor. After all, we hadn't been invited.
When I showed up as someone connected to Vera, all eyes turned toward me.
Following the Successive Heads' instructions, I carried out the provocation of flirting with Vera right in the corner of Fidel's field of vision—the man who kept glancing our way with undisguised contempt.
"This is good."
Vera looked at me eating the food with just a hint of exasperation. The reason was the reactions around us. No one had expected me to show up, so while stares kept piling on in our direction, nobody dared to approach.
"Honestly. When you said you wanted to attend a party, I should've known something was off... Why did you come? It's not like this is any fun for Lyle."
The atmosphere was different from Zayin's victory celebration, but the dishes and wines lined up were all high-end.
As I looked them over—
"I just wanted to see what Baim is really capable of. They spent that much already, so it's weird they still have this much power left, right?"
The Fourth Generation inside the Jewel agreed as well.
"Absolutely. It just means there's still more to squeeze out of them. Squeezing it all out is going to be tough work, though."
Well, half the reason I came was to heckle them—when I heard they were throwing a party while ignoring all the work we'd done. The other half was bursting into the venue alongside Vera to provoke Fidel.
If I wanted to assign even more meaning to it, this was an act of provocation toward Baim.
(...What am I, anyway? From Baim's perspective, I'm basically a plague god, aren't I?)
I was the one who succeeded in defending the fortress they thought was impossible to hold, causing losses for Baim. A massive amount of weaponry had been stored with Baim, but I'd solved the problem by offloading most of it onto Zayin and Rolfis in exchange for Magic Stones and materials.
However, even those actions weren't much of a blow to Baim. He had the power to recover from such losses in no time.
In the peripheral vision of Lord Fidel, who was chatting with some other people, I held Vera's hand.
The Third Generation was laughing uproariously as he watched Lord Fidel, who was exchanging pleasantries.
'He's glancing over! He's interested!'
While I was enjoying the party and provoking those around me, a young man who looked like a merchant approached with a smile. He had a fresh impression, and I felt I'd seen him somewhere before. The young man looked at me.
"This is an honor, Holy Knight. I've heard of your exploits in the recent defense. Was our house's support of any use?"
The person was from the house I had sought support from. He was the heir apparent. No wonder I thought he looked familiar, and I smiled back.
"Yes. Thanks to that, we were able to achieve victory. I'm grateful."
I gave a straightforward thank you.
The young man continued with small talk while looking around. In other words—
(He wants to show that my house provided proper support.)
He was using me, but I had received substantial support in return. So, I didn't find this level of bothersome. In fact, it was more than welcome.
However, the Successive Heads wouldn't miss this chance.
Mireia said.
'Layel, hold the young lady's hand so this young man can see it! Hold it like lovers! Palms together!'
Following Mireia's excited instructions, I held Vera's hand exactly as told. As I wondered what she was thinking, the young man looked at me and Vera.
"Oh, my apologies. I didn't mean to intrude. However, you seem to be on good terms with the young lady from House Trace?"
As the young man asked, a voice from the Fifth Generation was heard.
'Oh, looks like the father-in-law has arrived.'
Laughing as he straightened his back and approached, it was Fidel. Whether he'd been watching our exchange and couldn't hold back any longer, or whether he'd finally managed to slip away from the party guests gathering around, he came striding over to us.
As he drew near.
"Vera, it's fine to invite friends, but aren't you a little too close?"
He wore a smile for his daughter. And then he turned a cold gaze toward me beneath that same smiling face. I greeted him.
"How lovely to see you, 'Father-in-Law.'"
With that, Fidel discreetly stomped on my foot where no one around could see.
The Seventh Generation shouted from within the Jewel.
'You! What do you think you're doing to Ryle! I won't let you get away with just provoking him!'
It hurt being stepped on, but it wasn't unbearable. The young man nearby, however, seemed to sense the atmosphere and excused himself with a smile before leaving.
Then Fidel spoke in a voice too low for anyone around to hear.
"Boy... don't get cocky. Someone like you, I could crush anytime. Like this, see!"
Fidel tried to press harder with his foot, but suddenly broke into a cold sweat.
Looking down, Vera was stepping on Fidel's shoe with the heel of her own.
"V-Vera... Dad, that hurts."
Still keeping his composure, I had to admire it. But Vera wore a smile too.
"Then you'll take that foot off him, won't you? And if you try to crush Ryle, I'll make you my enemy too."
Fidel pulled his foot away from mine, and the foot that had been pinned by Vera's heel was released. There was a heel mark indented into his leather shoe.
"Vera, reconsider. This guy is no good. As a man, he's unforgivable. Besides, he's the type who keeps over ten women locked away in his mansion! What's so great about him?"
At the party venue, I was no longer the only one drawing stares. I could feel those around us stealing glances our way, curious about my relationship with the Trace family.
Just then, what appeared to be an executive-level staff member from the Guild showed up where we stood. Not from headquarters — more likely a senior officer from one of the branch offices.
Watching us.
"This is Lord Fidel. Were you acquainted with Lord Lyle?"
I could tell they were on guard. Through my Skills—All, Search—what I sensed was that their escort was wary, and though they were hiding it, they harbored hostility toward us.
I made sure to show them my hand, still linked with Vera's.
"Yes, they provided us with a great deal of support this time as well. We only managed to achieve victory thanks to the Trace family's help."
I deliberately emphasized "this time as well" and turned my gaze toward Fidel. He probably found me insufferable, but Fidel didn't let his expression slip.
"I'm glad to hear that. By the way, the Southern Branch looks like it's been having quite a rough time of it, hasn't it?"
Going by Fidel's words, the other party must be an executive of the Guild's Southern Branch.
(The Southern Branch was the one that specialized in mercenary companies, wasn't it?)
The other person shrugged.
"Mercenaries earn pitifully little if they're hired but fail to deliver results. This time we were all fired up to take down a huge number of Monsters, but someone had to go and interfere."
The executive's reaction shifted from yellow to red for just an instant. I watched them with a smile.
"That's a real shame. If you hadn't holed up, you could have come to the fortress and made a decent profit."
—I provoked them. Cold sweat trickled down my back, but the ones who had instructed me to do this were, naturally, the Successive Heads.
The Seventh Generation was especially enthusiastic about it.
"Lyle, say this to him: it's only natural you can't earn anything if you're too cowardly. While you're at it, teach him to hide his killing intent better. And then, at the end... egg him on! Push him harder!"
The Seventh Generation was pulling no punches toward that executive who served as the mercenary company's leader.
I spoke at a volume just loud enough for the executive to hear.
"You really ought to hide your killing intent better. And your escort here has been overly on guard toward me for a while now."
I said this with a smile, and the Southern Branch executive didn't so much as change their expression.
"What could that be? Perhaps you're just worn out from the battlefield? You shouldn't come to a place like this—you should take it easy and rest."
I didn't care about something so minor. I maintained a composed exterior, but I could tell the other party was holding back. The search ability from my Sixth Generation Skills showed the Southern Branch executive and their escort glowing bright red.
There were also plenty of other presences in the vicinity directing hostility toward me.
(...Why am I even at a place like this? I practically came here just to stir things up—there's no way that's normal.)
Until the party was over, I put on an act of enjoying myself with Vera at the venue.
The next day.
When I woke up at the estate, a young man named Gorz—Grandpa Rata's grandson—came rushing in from that very morning, shouting.
He was in front of the large warehouse in the estate's courtyard, pleading tearfully with Grandpa Rata.
"Come back, Gramps! House Trace just placed an order for twelve cannons! We're already exhausted, and they're telling us to hurry! And it's firearms too! There's no way we can make the deadline!"
It seemed Grandpa Rata's forge was in trouble because of the equipment I'd left at the fortress. Grandpa Rata had come out in his running clothes, and from the look of it he'd been brushing his teeth—there was a cup and toothbrush still in his hands.
But he was smiling.
"Sorry, but I'm living for my hobbies now. Honestly, I think the time has come to dump the work on my son-in-law—no, to entrust it to him. Tell my son-in-law for me: 'It's your era now.'"
That was a dazzling smile, honestly. A master craftsman who'd dumped all his work on his son-in-law to live out his hobbies in peace—what a terrible person.
I was watching all of this from a first-floor window of the estate when Gorz shouted. Next to Gorz was a wooden crate—he seemed to have brought some cargo.
"Hey, Gramps! You just said 'dump' again, didn't you! Please, just come back! We can't meet the deadlines!"
Grandpa Rata cheerfully gave a thumbs-up.
"Do your best. Having work is a good thing. Besides, your skills will only get sharper under pressure, so you'll be fine."
"Gramps! This all happened because you kept taking on weird jobs! At least tell the head of House Trace to negotiate the deadline!"
Watching Gorz on the verge of tears, I felt guilty. But even with his grandson like that, Grandpa Rata seemed more interested in the wooden crate.
"So, what's that?"
Gorz also turned his gaze to the wooden crate, heaved a sigh, and opened it.
"I serviced the katana you returned. And I brought along a newly forged one too. So, am I not allowed to refuse this commission? I've got a mountain of work stacked up already."
Grandpa Rata pulled the katana from the wooden crate, drew it, and squinted one eye shut as he examined the blade.
"Hmm, seems better than before. Well, I suppose focusing on work for a while is fine. I'll have a word with that lad Fidel myself. But this is definitely something different from a Saber, no question."
Grandpa Rata still didn't seem to believe Monica's claim that they were essentially the same thing.
"...Please. And honestly, I don't have any more time to spare for now, so it's just not possible. Could you let the client know as well?"
Once Gorz had finished relaying his message, he left the estate. Noticing me watching, Grandpa Rata then beckoned me over.
I tested the feel of the katana I had used on the battlefield after its servicing, as well as the new one I'd just received.
The new blade had a shorter cutting edge, making it easier to swing around.
I tried it out in the estate's courtyard, and the hilt had been redesigned to allow for two-handed use, which made it much more manageable.
Watching me from the side, Grandpa Rata was jotting down notes on points of interest.
"I had it made according to that young lady's instructions, but this thing is still a fragile weapon. Even rare metals won't do if iron is all you've got."
Damian was watching me the whole time I was swinging the katana around in the yard, too.
He had come out of the warehouse and was being tended to by a maid while keeping his eyes fixed on me. More than the katana, it seemed he had questions about the Valkyrie.
"Speaking of which, about those three units — maintenance on them is actually pretty troublesome. I'm planning to streamline the process and produce them in bulk next time, but do you have any requests?"
Damian was enthusiastic, apparently wanting to acquire data from the Valkyrie. In truth, the development of the Valkyrie had led to major leaps in Damian's research.
"Yeah, for that, I'd like to reduce the mana consumption. When you've got a lot of them, the mana costs become ridiculous."
Damian brought his hand to his chin, deep in thought.
"That means supplying mana through a separate source. If we try to fit that kind of device inside the body, the space would be..."
Grandpa Rata chimed in with a single remark upon hearing that.
"How about an external attachment?"
"That's it!"
The two burst out laughing and headed straight back to the warehouse. It seemed a new idea had sparked, and they were already getting to work.
I watched the backs of the three automatons as they followed the pair.
"...Old man Rata's pretty much become a live-in at this point, too."
That's what I said.
With no one else around in the courtyard, I scratched my head and gazed up at the sky.
"Maybe I'll listen to some stories inside the Jewel today."
Inside the Jewel.
As I entered the room of my memories, Mireia came along, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I was heading to meet Septem, but this time the great city was considerably more dilapidated. Walking down the streets, I saw emaciated people sitting slumped against building walls.
The sky was overcast, utterly devoid of life — all that remained was a great city on the verge of complete decay.
Walking ahead of Mireia, I grimaced at a sight even worse than last time.
"How did it come to this?"
I knew the reason. And though I knew it, I never imagined things would deteriorate this badly. Couldn't something have been done before it reached this point? I couldn't help feeling that way.
Mireia spoke.
"Lord Septem was the one holding everything together on his own. He did train apprentices in magic, but none of them devoted themselves to the people the way Lord Septem did. Eventually, they abandoned the helpless populace and disappeared from here."
Those who had learned magic then took the technology to other countries. Mireia said this was the origin of the nobility.
"And so, these mages who had gained magic established their positions while using the ruin of this great city as a cautionary tale. They left behind more capable descendants and refined their magical techniques bit by bit... giving rise to a new ruling class."
That was the origin of us nobles. Whereas the nobility of old had clearly not been mages, this was what gave rise to the notion that mages were the true nobility.
Septem's manor was dilapidated, with part of its roof missing entirely.
Walking down the corridor and gazing up at the sky, I caught sight of grey clouds.
Mireia spoke.
"Among all the successive Septems throughout history, she was outstanding. Too outstanding. And too kind for her own good—so kind that she ruined everything. In the end, it led to more advanced magic being spread across the continent."
When I entered Septem's room, the bed had rotted away, and Septem sat in a chair—not in the form of an old woman.
The young girl, seated in the chair, spotted us and called out. The aura was unmistakably Septem's. Yet her voice was that of a child.
"Oh my, what terrible timing. Just a little longer and the scenery of the village from the loop would have spread out before us."
At Septem's words, I managed a wry smile. And then—
"There's something I'd like to ask today."
"What might that be?"
I asked the question that had been on my mind for some time. It was about how to defeat Septem—Agrissa.
"Three hundred years ago, Agrissa was slain."
"Yes."
"But the method used to defeat her isn't recorded anywhere. In order to stop Ceres, we absolutely need to know what means were used to overcome Agrissa."
Seeing my serious expression, young Septem looked slightly troubled. Does she think we can't defeat her? While I was wondering about that, Septem spoke up.
"I'm sorry, but Agrissa can create Skills. And she has a body capable of wielding them. There's no telling what Skills she possesses. She might be able to use every single one. ...However."
However—saying that, Septem rose from her chair and stood before me.
"The same goes for Laiel."
"For me too?"
Septem smiled. She smiled, and then told me just how miraculous my very existence was.
"The successive heads inherited Skills through the Jewels, gradually transforming their bodies to specialize in support-type abilities. It’s only natural, in a sense, that Laiel, who inherited that, excels at handling support-type Skills."
Thanks to the Jewel First Generation had purchased cheaply, the people of House Walt found it easier to manifest support-type Skills, and those Skills became more powerful with each generation.
A bloodline refined over generations, honed specifically for support—
"Laiel, your Experience and Connection are Skills that shouldn’t exist. They might seem like separate things, but they share a commonality. What you, who have been continually deprived, sought was ‘experience’—in other words, Experience allows you to gain more experience… meaning, it points toward a ‘future.’ Connection grants ‘the present’ of shared experience. I’m still unsure about the third stage, but I believe it must connect to the ‘past.’"
I had thought my Skills were scattered and unrelated. But apparently, they all shared the common thread of "experience."
"Somehow, having it end with the ‘past’ feels backwards. Wouldn’t it make more sense if it were the other way around?"
Septem smiled.
"Perhaps. But the current Laiel holds the knowledge and experiences of the past generations, and wields their weapons in the present. And now, you seek the future as well. It’s the opposite of the Skill’s nature. If there is a way to defeat Ceres, Laiel’s Skills might be the key."
I thought for a moment.
If my Skills truly didn’t exist, then neither Agrissa nor Ceres should have been able to understand them either. It certainly could be the crucial key to winning.
Just then, I felt a light tap on my shoulder.
Turning around, I saw Mireia looking toward Septem. When I looked too—
"…It seems the Jewel only intended for me to convey this much."
Septem began to glow with light, and the surrounding scenery dissolved into golden particles that swayed and vanished like leaves in the wind.
"Ah, wait! I still have questions!"
Septem shook her head.
"Ask the next person about that. And… this isn’t certain, but the Jewel holds the truth. My role wasn’t to deliver that."
Smiling, Septem transformed into a cascade of golden particles and disappeared. My outstretched hand touched nothing.
Only her voice remained.
"It’s alright. The next one will tell you… Do your best, my descendant."
While listening to Septem's chuckling voice, I was dumbfounded — and before I knew it, I had been transferred to the Round Table chamber.
"…So I do carry Septem's blood as well."
Naturally, it was a fact I had simply forgotten. If Ceres had inherited Septem's memories, that meant Septem's blood also flowed through me.
Mireia looked at me with mild exasperation.
"Geez, not even noticing something like that."
"But if you talk to the Successive Heads regularly, you'd figure 'I'm their descendant'… I honestly can't imagine it any other way."
Mireia said to me gently.
"Naturally, many people were involved in bringing you into the world, Lyle. It wasn't just House Walt. The families of those wives were involved too. Even without direct ties, there were countless connections that led to your existence."
It sounded somewhat absurd, but I was made to realize that it was simply the way things were.
It wasn't just me. Every single person was like that.
"…That's thought-provoking."
"Right? Well then, I wonder what kind of person will appear next. Look forward to it."
From the way she spoke, Mireia seemed to know.
(…Come to think of it, I'd gotten so caught up in everything recently that I'd almost forgotten — she was the Jewel's guide, wasn't she?)
This time, Septem had taught me all sorts of things.
About magic. About Skills. About the Goddess.
And — about Novem as well.
The reason I had a connection to the Goddess was probably because I carried Septem's blood, wasn't it?
And I had also learned that through the Jewel House Walt had happened to purchase, I had inherited a body specialized in support-type Skills.
(…Could this also be one of the reasons why the Successive Heads manifested powerful Skills? If so, the Jewel gains a whole new value.)
There were plenty of things to think about, but none of it came together. When I looked back across the Round Table chamber, the Successive Heads were all watching me.
The Third Generation, with his usual smile.
"Did anything come of it?"
That's what he asked me. The Fourth Generation had taken off his glasses and was wiping the lenses as he addressed us.
"Judging from how you were talking just now, it sounds like your conversation with Septem has reached a natural stopping point. Now then, how about letting us in on it?"
The Fifth Generation was showing his usual lack of interest, but when he looked my way—
"Well, go on. It's a lot easier than carrying it all on your own."
That's what he said. Lately, I'd started to understand the Fifth Generation a little. That aloof attitude he always put on was something akin to hiding embarrassment.
The Seventh Generation looked at me, then turned his gaze toward Mireia.
"Come to think of it, Aunt was supposed to be our guide, wasn't she? I got so caught up with the Third Generation that I forgot. The two of them do share that same unpleasant trait in their personalities—"
The Seventh Generation was smiling as he delivered that barb toward Mireia, but he never got to finish his sentence.
Mireia, who had been right beside me, drove her fist into the Seventh Generation's face with a smile still on her own. When had she even moved? And surprisingly, Mireia was starting to look like someone with real power. That frail impression was completely swept away—no, it had never been there to begin with.
"Now now, Broad, that's just mean. Big Sister Mireia's going to get angry too, you know. You used to be so cute back then."
The Seventh Generation, clutching his nose.
"I've forgotten all about the past."
That's what he said.
Mireia shrugged, looking somewhat exasperated.
"Some things never change. Well, you've had it rough as my brother's son, so I suppose that's understandable."
It seemed the Seventh Generation had his own share of burdens as well. I'd never picked up on that when I was alive. But inside the Jewel, he'd let slip a few things that caught my attention.
It looked like there was a part of him that was being stubborn toward the Sixth Generation, too.
Then, Mireia was looking at the Fifth Generation's face. The Fifth Generation noticed.
"What is it?"
"Father, this would be a good time to show Laiel your memories. Come on, there's still an important part you haven't shown him, right?"
When the Fifth Generation made a visibly displeased face, she refused with a straight expression.
"I decline. Besides, my memories have nothing to do with Laiel. Efficiency is what matters now."
Mireia said with a smile.
"I think it matters. Laiel will need this going forward, and above all, you feel responsible, don't you? About how House Walt had always aimed to be a warm family, and how you were the one to break that in your generation."
The Fifth Generation stood up and walked back to his memory room without another word.
"Oh dear."
"I made him angry."
Sticking her tongue out slightly and closing one eye, Mireia said that, then adopted a slightly sad expression.
The Fourth Generation seemed curious. Or rather, he seemed to have an idea what it was about.
"......I don't think it's right to expose secrets someone is hiding. But you still want Laiel to know, do you?"
Mireia nodded. After nodding, she sent her gaze to the Seventh Generation.
In a neighboring country of Baim, Banseim's army was advancing.
The knights who entered the former capital, destroyed by Monsters, were proceeding to eliminate the Monsters that had scattered in every direction.
The newly acquired land was to become Banseim's direct territory. Eventually, portions might be ceded to someone as a reward.
Meanwhile, a report arrived at the general who had set up his headquarters in a still-functional building in the capital.
"General. According to the scouts sent toward Baim, Baim appears to be safe. They fortified key positions and repelled the Monsters' great army, apparently."
The general who heard the report laughed.
"Impressive. So Baim held out after all. Well, it would've been a problem if they hadn't. Being ordered to advance all the way there would've been a real headache. Besides, that place conducts trade, so if it fell, things would get messy in all sorts of ways."
The middle-aged general sat down in his chair, sorting through a mountain of documents with a cheerful smile. The knight who had delivered the report seemed curious.
"General, you seem quite pleased about this deployment."
The general looked at the knight's face, then nodded. The knight felt somewhat uneasy under that searching gaze, but the general stopped his work, rose from his chair, and looked out the window.
Beyond it stretched the sight of a city destroyed by Monsters.
"Well, it was a job nobody wanted, but still. Being sent away from Central is a blessing in disguise. You weren't from Central, were you?"
At the general's words, the knight nodded.
"No, sir. I grew up in a village a short distance from Central. When they announced this expedition, it felt like they rounded us up because they were told not to use Central's knights."
The general chuckled.
"Ah, that was my doing. I specifically requested subordinates who had as little connection to Central and the current Queen's faction as possible."
The knight tilted his head in confusion. Thinking the man didn't understand, the general smiled wryly.
"You're at a loss for how to react, aren't you? But that's the kind of subordinate I wanted. Anyone living in present-day Central would end up thinking the same way whether they liked it or not. Now then, let's get back to work. It's nice not having to worry about being from Central."
Though the knight still harbored doubts about the general's words and manner, he left the room —.