"Got a message from His Holiness the Pope. 'Estia Magna is secured — no damage, no malfunction.' Lucky you, Boss. That means your top objective's been achieved."
Laplace appeared suddenly before Ermes and the others, who had just defeated Archbishop Gregorio. Despite the situation, he maintained his airy demeanor and continued speaking with the one he called "Boss."
...Information that absolutely must not be overlooked, tucked in alongside those words.
"The P-Pope...!?"
"Hm? Yeah, that's what I said. The Pope — and also one of our comrades, one of the three executives: Ortesia. She's a lunatic trapped by the witch's phantom, but her ability and tenacity are second to none. She came through for us this time too."
"Ehh—"
"You knew — you all must've anticipated that there were informants from the
Organization
inside the Church, right? Is that really so surprising?"
With a grin.
Laplace said that with an expression that clearly showed he already knew.
...Yes, that was right.
They had anticipated that the Organization would have people on the Church's side. From the very beginning of the succession dispute, they had been warned about it and had stayed on guard ever since.
But to think that the very top of the Church was one of them — nobody could have imagined that. That was no longer a matter of having informants. It was no different from a hostile takeover.
And what's more — the takeover hadn't stopped there.
"Lord Chrono..."
"...Before, I told you that showing you the depths of my convictions would be a pleasure saved for after I'd gotten to know you a little better. — It seems the time has come."
At Ermes's murmur, Chrono — a young man who belonged to the nobility positioned at the apex of the neutral lords, the very one Laplace had just called "Boss" —
"...I have seen many realities of this kingdom. I have seen much despair, much stagnation, much corruption.
"—And so. Having considered this with the utmost rationality, with the purest logic—"
With his usual, composed expression.
Without a trace of pretense, he declares:
"—
This country
is trash
and should be destroyed.
That is my ideal. An exceedingly rational judgment, don't you think?"
"Ha."
At Chrono's words, Laplace laughs.
"You always say that. ...You're always going on about logic, yet you're the one driven by emotion more than anyone."
"Fufu, and who was it that taught me that?"
"Can't argue with that."
Chrono and Laplace share a laugh. Between the two of them, an unshakable trust—cultivated over years—was palpable. And that only lent greater credence to the truth of the scene before their eyes.
...Moreover. For Ermes now—for Ermes, who had been shown the very depths of this country's filth by Archbishop Gregorio and his subordinates—
there was simply nothing with which to refute Chrono's blunt words.
...Come to think of it, it had been this way from the very beginning.
Chrono had said it. "Depending on the results of my assessment, stepping down from 'neutrality' is also on the table."
Every word that followed, every tone, every action—
looking back on all of it now,
He never once said he would "side with Lilliana." Ermes and the others had simply jumped to that conclusion on their own.
Little by little, little by little, despair was seeping in. The plan he had formulated at the moment of breaching the Sanctum Sanctorum — temporarily ally with the Pope faction, then win over the neutral nobles — had been utterly and completely shattered in this very instant.
No matter how you looked at it, this was a situation of absolute desperation.
No — wait. Not yet. He still had allies — just as that thought crossed his mind—
"N-not — not yet!"
By sheer coincidence... an unwelcome coincidence from Ermes's perspective, a scream rang out.
The one who raised his voice was Archbishop Gregorio. Left in a state of combat incapacity by Ermes, he had recovered from the shock of Archbishop Varen's dire condition and was still barking defiantly.
"Not yet — the Archbishops are not yet... the Church is not finished! That's right — Archbishop Nicolas still remains! He, too, is a specialist in human combat! Unless someone like you, Laplace, an irregular of that caliber, even the firstborn of the Frodaits shouldn't be able to keep up—!"
Furthermore, at the same time—
"—Er!"
Once again, an unexpected voice from an unexpected place. Turning around in confusion, the one rushing in from the entrance to the archive room was... Katia. With Albert and Lucius following behind her, she wore an expression more flustered than he had ever seen from her, and her eyes went wide upon spotting him.
"!? That's — Laplace! And Chrono too — why are you... n-no, forget that—!"
Even she, as composed as she usually was, was thrown into disarray — but it was clearly no time for that.
"—Have you seen my father!?"
That was what she blurted out.
"Huh?"
"My father — my father! Right after the battle with Archbishop Nicolas began, a trap caused the walls of this Dungeon to collapse...! He was cut off — separated so that it was just him and Archbishop Nicolas, alone together!"
She continued, consumed by confusion and terror, conveying a situation that was clearly anything but trivial just to hear—
"
My father's
"Bloodline Magic..."
"—
"...isn't..."
"...offensive-type..."
"...!"
"...apparently!"
"This is no good — even if Father has that kind of Bloodline Magic, just the two of them against that battle-hardened Archbishop, there's no chance—!"
—That's when.
"………………Bwahahahaha!"
Laplace's.
Laughter echoed.
That voice was far too out of place for this setting. Pure — one might even call it innocent.
Ermes and Katia stared in bewilderment at such a thoroughly harmless laugh — one containing nothing but "I laughed because it was funny."
"Seriously? Hey, you — you're his daughter, right? Are you for real?
Man, they really didn't want this getting out, huh? You don't normally hide stuff from your own daughter, and with that kind of magic on top of it? That's just pathetic."
"What... are you..."
—BOOM.
A deafening roar rang out, cutting through Katia's question.
It grew louder, stronger, by degrees. The source of the sound was drawing closer.
"...Hey..."
It paid no heed to that sound whatsoever.
Utterly unconcerned — as if it had a perfect understanding of the sound's source.
As though the sound were pleasant background music, Laplace continued to weave words.
"I told you from the start, didn't I? That I 'heard' you catch on to the possibility of spies."
"—Who do you think I heard it from?"
A shudder.
Yes — an indescribable chill.
The dread of having learned something that should never have been known, a premonition that the world was about to crumble.
But none of that children's revulsion mattered in the slightest.
The source of the sound drew ever closer, like a countdown — and in proportion, Laplace's monologue rose to an even higher pitch.
"Hey, you lot. You had a solid grasp of the possibility that our 'organization's' reach extended beyond the First Prince's faction, didn't you? To the Second Princess's faction, to the neutral factions. You understood perfectly well that allies could be lurking everywhere, didn't you?"
"So then — why did you think—"
In a single breath—
"—
the Third Princess's faction—
too?"
With a thunderous—
A deafening sound rang out.
It was the sound of the Sanctuary's dungeon walls being torn apart.
—An impossible sound: the Dungeon itself, which should have been virtually indestructible, being destroyed.
In that instant — a shudder.
The atmosphere throughout the entire area seemed to be rewritten as that of hell itself, so dreadful that merely looking at it made one's hair stand on end.
Something terrifying, ferocious, ghastly... and yet — a magic power that somehow felt familiar came seeping through every inch of the destroyed wall.
"...I think you already understand. Our objective is purely 'the destruction of this nation.' Nothing more than a collective of people who gave up on this country — harboring resentment, hatred, curses, all those negative emotions. A dumping ground for negative legacies, the kingdom's own self-destruct mechanism — let's give it a more dignified name, shall we?"
"...That said."
—They didn't want to hear any more than that.
Ermes and the others were struck by that inexplicable chill. But fully aware of what they were feeling, Laplace wove his words as though casting a curse.
"Let's review 'his' profile, shall we? ...His one and only best friend was rejected by the kingdom? His beloved wife was killed by the negligence of nobles? His remaining daughter was branded with the label of 'evil magic,' dragged into some meaningless power struggle and forced into an engagement with Dust, only to be cast aside and nearly killed in the end?
...Haha, it's a flawless case, isn't it? Now then, let's hear it one more time —"
And then — at last.
Laplace twisted his lips and delivered the fatal words.
"
There's no way —
,
you wouldn't want to destroy
this country,
right?
.
— Hey, Trachea."
The answer was.
"Bloodline Magic—"
In a voice all too familiar.
A voice everyone had heard before.
A voice no one wanted to hear right now, of all times.
The voice of Yurgen von Trachea.
Something no one had known about until now — something he had perfectly concealed, even deceiving his own daughter into believing it was "not a direct-attack type."
—Woven together with his Bloodline Magic.
"—'
Netherworld of Salvation
'"
At the same time, that fearsome magic power swelled to desperate, overwhelming levels.
A deafening roar.
A beat later — splat.
Along with that same horrible, wet sound they had heard before, a mass of red-black flesh was slammed down in front of Ermes and the others.
……Its identity needed no explanation.
"…………Lord… Nicola…?"
Gregorio murmured in a tone of disbelief, verifying the terrible truth — that all of his colleagues had been killed.
But there was no time to dwell on that, no way to afford such concern.
Impossible. This couldn't be real. Clinging to such desperate, escapist thoughts, both Ermes and Katia turned their gaze toward the destroyed wall, pinning their last, thin sliver of hope —
They understood.
There was no mistaking who stood there.
Purple hair, blue eyes. An intellectual expression made all the more so by his glasses — Catia's father.
And beyond him... what he had summoned through Bloodline Magic.
—Evil spirits.
—Vengeful spirits.
—Cursed spirits.
Resentment, hatred, curses. Every negative emotion in existence, distilled and condensed, filtered and distilled again — the incarnations of all the world's malice, packed so tightly they jostled for space.
"
Netherworld of Salvation
"
A magic that communicates with Souls, summons them, and commands them as familiars.
And this magic possessed a particular trait.
—
The nature
of the summoned soul
,
depends upon
the temperament
of the person
.
And so, the Soul Katia had summoned reflected her temperament—becoming something honest, innocent, and childlike.
And so, the Soul Yurugen had summoned.
In other words.
"How... did you..."
Because they had used the same magic.
Katia's hollow voice echoed—she had understood everything.
...When it had started, she didn't know.
But this situation. This outcome. And above all, this magic—it all spoke volumes.
"—The last of the three executives.
Yurugen von Trakia. Burn that name into your heads, kids. Well, you won't be going back anyway."
The moment Laplace's words were uttered, everything he had said and done up to this point connected.
"Seriously, you saved us. For us,
those Archbishops
were the biggest obstacle—the most troublesome opponents there were."
That wasn't because he hadn't recognized Ermes and the others as enemies.
...It was because, from the very beginning, he had known that the Third Princess faction's sole adult—the linchpin on their side—belonged to the Organization.
"You took down two of those troublesome Archbishops for us. And the one I beat makes three. There's one left, but... well, in terms of appearances—as long as he's around, we can't lose."
From the very beginning, for them, the Archbishop faction alone was the only opponent they had no reach into—the only one they had to crush head-on.
In truth, this whole operation to eliminate the Archbishops had been steered by the Organization from the start.
The "he" Laplace spoke of was not Lucius.
"Thanks for all your tearful efforts on our behalf, Ermes.
Sorry about that. But you see, this whole succession war, from the very start—"
The Neutral Noble faction.
Also.
The First Prince's faction.
Also.
The Second Princess's faction.
Also.
The Third Princess's faction.
Also.
Even as that realization dawned on him.
Laplace smiled warmly. He had said these words several times before. But this was the first time he spoke them in front of Ermes.
"—
No matter how things turn out
,
in the end
it's been arranged
so that
we win
."
And so.
Now, having completely annihilated the Grand Bishop faction — the sole hostile organization — the time had finally come.
——Ruin had begun.
Chapter 3 enters its middle stretch. From here on, every installment will be a rollercoaster, so I hope you'll stick around.