In a certain location in the Royal Capital, at a noble household.
The current head's daily routine was a stroll through the garden at his estate. Having cleared away the servants, he walked with a tranquil heart through the grounds that had been meticulously tended by a dedicated gardener.
He saw something strange.
On the outer edge of the garden — a crouching shadow. Concealed among the foliage, its form was difficult to make out, but he could just barely discern what appeared to be a woman.
Odd, he thought, yet for some reason she didn't feel like a stranger, so he called out.
"............Why?"
Sure enough, a woman's voice answered.
"Hey, why, Alfred? You swore a future to me. You whispered so much love to me. And just because someone with better magic comes along, you throw me away just like that?"
The voice was hollow in some way, but he could just barely catch the meaning.
"...Hmm."
From what he could gather, this was likely a noble's daughter who had been abandoned by her lover — or fiancé — over some dispute related to Bloodline Magic.
He didn't know anyone named Alfred, but having pieced together the general situation, and having understood her words without misinterpretation—
He replied.
"...Isn't that simply unavoidable?"
The shadow flinched.
"It is the duty of the nobility to pass on the Bloodline Magic granted by one's ancestors, by the gods, to future generations in a better form. As long as that principle stands, no matter how deeply two people may have sworn their future together, it is only natural to gravitate toward one who possesses superior Bloodline Magic."
"..."
"Well, in short...
the lesser one
Bloodline Magic
But
not having
been born
with it
that's
your fault,
isn't it?"
In his mind, the values ingrained from the moment he was born.
He spoke flatly of something as self-evident as the existence of heaven and earth — something there was no longer any reason to doubt.
In contrast, the woman crouching there—
"............Yes, yes, you're right."
With a tone of full conviction. The noble nodded with a satisfied expression, as if to say she understood.
"You're that kind of person, Alfret."
She said something incomprehensible.
"——Hm? No, my name is not Alfret or anything like that."
"No, there's no way I could be mistaken."
As the noble withdrew in confusion, the woman's shadow spoke in a hollow voice, carrying a faint trace of emotion.
"It's exactly the same — what you say, your values, and above all, the magic that dwells within you."
"——Wha—"
"That infuriating face, that voice that never once doubted its own righteousness, those eyes that never once looked at me, that unbearably grating voice, that oblivious hypocrisy, that oblivious heart—the loathing, the jealousy, the hatred—everything, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything!"
What even is this thing.
By the time that thought crossed my mind, it was already far too late.
The woman's shadow, which had been crouching low, suddenly—without any warning whatsoever—shot upright with terrifying force and latched onto me.
I tried to shake it off in an instant, but couldn't. An impossible, vise-like grip; a body temperature so cold it felt like ice—and most of all, spreading across the place where a face should have been, a darkness so abyssal it made my blood run cold.
This is not human. This thing is—
"A vengeful spirit—!"
"Hey, Alfred. It's so dark and cold here, you know. Ever since you had me thrown into a place like this, I've been waiting for this day. For so, so, sooooo long."
At the same time, I realized something.
Alfred—wasn't that... the name of the head of my household, four generations ago?
"So I'm truly, truly happy.
You've finally fallen into the same place as the rest of us."
At her words, I looked around.
And when I did, I saw that—without my noticing—faceless figures just like her were everywhere, and still more vengeful spirits were rising without end.
That was when I finally understood.
I didn't know why, or how it had happened.
But this place had, long since, become a land of the dead.
My face contorted, draining of color.
Seeing that, the vengeful spirit clinging to me let out a small "hehe" from behind her faceless void, and—
"As a little warm-up—how about I turn you into a bloody pulp?"
"S-Sk... Aahhhh!!!"
This man, he was.
The first victim of the unprecedented disaster that struck the Royal Capital.
◆
Throughout the Royal Capital — no, that expression isn't fitting.
Similar phenomena were occurring everywhere there were people in the Royal Capital.
In some places, everyone inside their homes was slaughtered in an instant by a procession of the dead.
In some places, the heads of households who had been padding their own coffers were carefully, so very carefully toyed with by hordes of vengeful spirits — kept alive, never allowed to die.
In some places, into pitch-black voids formed by spirits clustering together,
a mansion,
whole,
was swallowed,
and vanished.
.
Diverse, varied, but equally horrific — hells were unfolding everywhere.
And here too.
Near the center of the Royal Capital, at the Eldritch Earl's main estate.
"H-hi... stop, please stop...!"
The current head — a bloated, fat man, Earl Eldritch — was running desperately, his massive body swaying with leaden heaviness.
From behind him,
"Do not forgive."
"Do not forgive the tyranny of Eldritch."
"Do not ever forgive that family, which has unjustly persecuted us for so long."
A swarm of black shadows numbering nearly a thousand pursued Earl Eldritch with terrifying precision and unwavering determination, not showing the slightest sign of stopping.
"Retribution!"
"Divine retribution upon the arrogant and evil Eldritch—!"
The horde of vengeful spirits had already closed in so close behind him that their presence was thick enough to feel. Desperately trying to widen the distance, Earl Eldritch screamed in a state of half-madness.
"I-I don't know! I don't know anything about that!"
"Do not forgive."
"I've done nothing wrong! I'm not arrogant, nor am I evil! As a noble, I've done nothing but what is right—nothing but right, I tell you!"
Even with Bloodline Magic, he could only scatter their surface layer, and his magic power had long since run dry. All that remained for him was the desperate, unsightly act of fleeing.
He screamed his innocence with all his might, but the vengeful spirits would not stop.
By now, the Earl understood the reason. Because what the spirits were condemning was him, yet not him—
"Have you forgotten?"
"The atrocities, the cruelty you inflicted upon us, the suffering passed down through generations—have you forgotten it all—!!"
Perhaps it was what the Eldritch family had done in the past. The people who had been tormented by those deeds had, for reasons unknown, resurrected as vengeful spirits, and all of their grudge was now directed at the current head of the house—the Earl.
Having understood that clearly—
From the very bottom of his heart, Earl Eldritch screamed.
"—
The past
"things"
"to the present!"
"don't bring—"
"aah—"
"—!"
"!!"
With a voice that never once doubted its own wretchedness, utterly convinced that the injustice lay on the other side.
"I don't know any of that! It was the Eldritch family of the past who did those things — I bear no sin! It has nothing to do with me, someone living right here in the present!!"
"Withdraw—!"
"Damn it, don't screw with me! This shouldn't be happening! The past should stay sealed in the past! Dragging relics of old into the present is nothing but trouble — we have no use for things from the past!!"
Finally, with the vengeful spirits now pressing in from behind as well—
He lamented the injustice of this world from the bottom of his heart.
"For things from the past to cause consequences for us, the living of the present — there's no way that should be allowed to happen, aaahhhhhhh!!"
Those words became his death cry.
Every last member of House Eldritch, without exception, was swallowed by the vengeful spirits.
◆
"—Ha."
Laplace, who happened to be passing nearby, witnessed the entire affair from a distance.
With a tone that made no effort to hide his exasperation, he laughed.
"'Bloodline Mages,' and they have the gall to be so shameless about it."
"The nerve," he muttered, and with that, his interest in Count Eldritch was completely extinguished.
Laplace once again looked out over the entirety of the Royal Capital from his elevated vantage point.
An abyss of screaming souls. A vision of hell itself.
The countless vengeful spirits summoned by Yurugen's magic had turned the full weight of their grudges upon the current inhabitants without mercy, seeking to reshape the Royal Capital into a literal kingdom of the dead.
Yurugen's magic was the summoning of vengeful spirits.
But of course, the summoning range—even that which was possible through Yurugen's own magic power alone, let alone through—
the Netherworld of Salvation—
itself—far exceeded what should have been achievable. Even if
Magic Inscription Liberation
had been performed, this scale would still have been utterly impossible.
That is precisely why the Sixth Genesis Magic—
□□□□□—
came to be.
This Genesis Magic governs power. It does not possess the kind of abilities one might readily recognize as divine acts—no creation of life, no manipulation of space-time. On its own, it is nothing more than a mass of tremendous force.
The true strength of this magic reveals itself when combined with other magic.
By bestowing upon other magic a "power" that traces its origins to God, all limits of the target magic are stripped away. That is the effect of this Genesis Magic.
The shortage of magic power, the shortage of scale, the shortage of range—the "upper limits" that would always persist no matter how one struggled with normal Bloodline Magic are obliterated by this magic.
That is precisely why, when obtained by a human, its usability is unmatched among all Genesis Magic.
With this magic, you could combine it with any other magic and accomplish anything. In the extreme, no matter what magic you applied it to, it alone would be enough to destroy the Royal Capital.
The most straightforward example—that would be none other than Rose's '
Meteor Throne
' combined with it.
Across the entire Royal Capital,
,
until
total annihilation,
never
ceasing—
a
rain of light,
pouring
down,
,
—by this extremely direct violence, it would probably be the most straightforward way to destroy the Royal Capital.
——But that would be far too boring.
For a plan twenty years in the making, that kind of destruction would, for the people of the Royal Capital,
be
far too
merciful
.
So I thought about it. What would be the most humiliating, most satisfying karmic retribution for those bastards?
That was what I ultimately arrived at.
"You've thrived all this time by leaning on the positive relic known as Bloodline Magic."
The most perfectly delightful destruction that would satisfy our thirst for revenge.
"Then you'll just have to take every last bit of the negative relics buried underneath it too, won't you?"
Under that conviction and years of tireless effort.
It was finally complete. This hell — a perfect excavation of the filth that the Kingdom of Yustia had buried for years beneath its outward glory, never so much as glancing at it.
"Stop us if you can."
Laplace spoke those words, pouring into them a pride befitting of his crowning achievement, nothing held back.
He was addressing those outside the Royal Capital — beings who were undoubtedly witnessing this devastation at this very moment. And the boys, the only ones who might stand as obstacles in their path.
The Sixth Genesis Magic's true terror — if even a sliver of that came across, I'd be happy.
Next time, we plan to return to the Ermes side. Stay tuned!