The all-out war against the
In the east of the city, a church had been frozen solid, with icicles rising tall enough to tower over the onlookers.
In the north, the waterways had erupted into simultaneous flames, and white-hot stone towers crashed down with thunderous roars.
In the west, a section of the waterways had been destroyed, sending torrents of water flooding into the underground and causing massive inundation.
In the center, the government building that served as the city's administrative core had lost its foundation and crumbled into a shapeless mass.
The battles raging across every front were inflicting catastrophic damage, carving the threat of the Witch Cult's very existence into the city's bones. And yet, even as this unfolded, the defenders pushed back against the malice, struggling to fulfill their objective of holding the line with limited forces—almost succeeding.
And so, if there was a battlefield with the bleakest prospects while they teetered on the brink of overcoming Priestella's crisis, it would be this one.
Yes. The sudden, unexpected encounter with the Witch Cult's Archbishop of Sin of "Gluttony"—Rai Batenkaitos.
"Hahaha! That ain't gonna work, no good no good no goooood! What's the matter, what's happening, what do you wanna do, what are you gonna do, what have you done?!"
Enclosed by narrow, winding waterways—the area known colloquially as "the Canal District."
In the grand plaza at the heart of that district, a diminutive figure roared with laughter as it darted nimbly about. Flailing short limbs with all their might and wildly tossing disheveled, long, burnt-brown hair, the figure was a young boy—barely in his mid-teens at best. He wore nothing but a single ragged scrap of cloth, looking for all the world like a vagrant child.
However, while one might dismiss those as mere surface-level observations, actually laying eyes on the real thing made it exceedingly difficult to maintain that impression.
For the presence of that cackling boy was so grotesque, so twisted, so utterly abhorrent that it defied description.
It was immediately apparent—the inhuman pressure radiating from every inch of his body. It was that primal, instinctive part of humanity that people had long since suppressed in their daily lives, awakened by a lethal madness.
Anyone could sense, at a single glance, the sheer abnormality of his existence.
He was a blasphemer who trampled over the boundaries of humanity, crushed human wishes, and desecrated the human world.
He was the evil that kicked aside human bonds and human ethics with contempt—a Cardinal Archbishop of the Witch Cult.
"There's only one brat! Surround him—don't let him escape! Take him down!"
"Yeah, yeah, he's just one little brat! Catch him and rip him to shreds, why don't ya!"
Over the booming shout of command, the boy's giggling voice rang out in counterpoint.
Rai Batenkaitos, Archbishop of Gluttony, surveyed the men closing in on him with contemptuous eyes—not retreating a single step, but instead casually stepping forward to close the distance.
"——!"
Without another sound, the men in white robes charged at Batenkaitos.
Every one of those white-clad figures was a member of the mercenary group "
Against their seamless, coordinated assault, Batenkaitos— "There's a gap in your coordination. No good, no good~"
—slipped through the gap in their "seamless" formation, evading four blades with the bare minimum of movement.
Dodging the strikes, he drew the dagger strapped to his right arm and delivered a single fluid slash, then kicked one man square in the torso to break through the encirclement. There, standing in his path with both arms crossed, was a massive frame.
"Ugh, oooooh! This is it then, come on!"
It was
Batenkaitos's eyes widened at the sight, but the very next moment he broke into a sweet smile. It was an age-appropriate grin, except that the slightly too-sharp canines peeking through sent a chill of unease through anyone who saw them.
"You're spirited, old man! I don't hate that!"
"I ain't old enough to be called 'old man' yet... gah!?"
Batenkaitos's right foot pierced into the cheek of the charging Gaston as he leaped upward. The blade-kick landed flush on the man's face, but Gaston didn't flinch—he looked down at Batenkaitos with unwavering eyes.
Just like with the dagger strike earlier, Batenkaitos's attack hadn't worked on Gaston. The mechanism was unclear, but Gaston's body completely nullified the force of both blunt and slashing impacts.
Without hesitation, Gaston's arm shot out, reaching for the flitting, darting figure of "Gluttony"—and— "Fist King's Palm—"
With one leg still raised, Batenkaitos whispered something. His palm touched Gaston's torso. Compared to a kick, it had neither power nor speed—a motion no more forceful than a light touch.
But the instant that palm made contact and pressed in slightly, Gaston's body folded in half like a broken doll.
"Guh—e!?"
Gaston dropped to his knees, spewing bile and groaning in agony. Batenkaitos slipped past the crumpling man, having broken through the encirclement, then turned back and tilted his head.
That gesture, as if to say "Is that all?", left the "White Dragon's Scales" mortally offended on behalf of their pride—yet they could not conceal their shudders of horror and awe.
"Monster...!"
Someone's muttered word was proof positive of Batenkaitos's abilities.
And though it might have been their imagination, there was perhaps a tinge of envy mixed into that agonized voice.
"...He's even more formidable than I expected. We're sorely lacking a finishing blow."
In this close-quarters encounter with Gluttony, their fighting force was woefully inadequate on every front—of course, everyone was fighting their hardest, but reality was that it simply wasn't enough.
Seven members of Kiritaka's "White Dragon's Scales," Felt bringing up the rear with Gaston, and Otto as a lone combatant—ten people in total.
If by some fortunate coincidence someone who had finished their own battle early had arrived as reinforcement, the tide would turn in one fell swoop, a complete reversal—ideal, certainly, but...
"I don't trust my own luck enough to expect that kind of fortune to fall into our laps."
Otto Suwen's life was, to put it bluntly, an endless series of misfortunes and absurdities. Otto firmly believed that fortune did not exist, and that outcomes could only be drawn in through one's own effort, preparation, and conduct.
The closest things he had to fortune were being born into a tolerant family despite being an troublesome vessel for divine protection, and having his life—nearly taken by an Archbishop of Sin—saved by Subaru.
He figured he'd already spent whatever luck he had, so there was no point in being overly pessimistic about further misfortune.
"That water dragon you brought along—is it done for?" Felt called out from beside the contemplative Otto, watching the situation unfold.
Her crimson gaze pierced past the clash of steel and "Gluttony" beyond—to the water dragon lying on the cobblestones, its long neck spasming in its death throes.
The wretched water dragons that Otto had summoned and Batenkaitos had smashed to bits were, regrettably, unlikely to be returning to the fight.
"I'm afraid we can't push them any further. Those were all the water dragons I could speak to on the way here... I might be able to do the same with other water dragons, but would you be willing to let me get away from here to find them?"
"Pretty harsh joke there. Just letting that songbird lunatic go already cost us one of our trump cards. Cutting a second one would take real preparation."
As she spoke, Felt's gaze fell to the slender bundle clutched in her small arms. Wrapped in white cloth, it was apparently the "trump card" magical tool her retainer had equipped her with. Even Reinhard couldn't dodge it, supposedly, though using it required a somewhat troublesome sequence of steps—and until those conditions were met, it couldn't be deployed.
"Leaving aside the songbird lunatic, Brother and I probably wouldn't be allowed to escape even if we tried. Looks like we've landed squarely on that guy's target list."
"Honestly, that's the one thing I'd really prefer to avoid."
At Felt's snorting remark, Otto let out a defeated sigh.
However, he could not deny her words—because even in the heat of battle, he could feel the intensity of those feverish eyes that Batenkaitos kept turning their way. Batenkaitos breathed hot and heavy, with moist eyes and flushed cheeks, frequently directing his gaze toward Otto and the others. Taken out of context, that gaze could almost be mistaken for something amorous, but its true nature harbored nothing more than the ravenous appetite of a savage, starving beast.
Simply put, they had been deemed high-quality meat dripping with blood, worthy of a predator's palate. Utterly unflattering, but three people in this battlefield had caught Batenkaitos's discerning eye.
Otto, Felt, and the unshaven man commanding the "White Dragon's Scales." That man, too, was barking orders to his subordinates while clashing with Batenkaitos and rushing toward Otto's position.
The sharp-featured man gave a brief nod as he approached, speaking rapidly while keeping one eye on the battle— "Dynas. Earlier, you helped us get our young lady out. We're grateful for that."
"That was all thanks to Felt-dono's efforts. Besides, letting Kiritaka escape was meaningful for preserving our chances at victory. If he's followed my instructions and left this place—"
If Kiritaka had done as Otto told him and withdrawn, then perhaps another possibility could open up. Regrettably, it was nothing more than a hope without certainty, but in any case, it shouldn't lead anywhere worse than their current situation.
There was nothing wrong with having as many schemes for winning or profiting as possible. In the end, as long as you committed to any one of them, victory would roll right in.
"————"
Seeing Otto fall silent as his mind raced, the man—Dynas—looked surprised for a moment before nodding in understanding. There was clear recognition in his expression.
"I see. You really are what they say you are. The chief domestic official of Her Excellency
"No need to be so modest and jumpy about it. Besides, our domestic official swings around a giant club with that big frame of his too. Isn't that just what domestic officials do?"
The reputational damage to the position of domestic official was staggering.
Over the past year, Otto had grown resigned to being called one—but he had never accepted that the meaning of the title itself could be twisted beyond recognition. What was the cause? Probably the fact that he kept running into catastrophic situations like this over and over again. It was Subaru's fault. When he got back safe and sound, he would absolutely sock him one. He had made up his mind.
"Right then—"
He set aside thoughts about the aftermath and focused on the present situation.
Otto's gaze found Batenkaitos, who was clashing repeatedly with the "White Dragon's Scales" and Gaston, unleashing his abnormal combat prowess without restraint, mowing them down one by one.
However, what was puzzling was that he refused to use the dagger in his right hand.
"A whole bunch of grownups ganging up on one little kid and you can't catch me?! No good, no good, no good—well, not exactly 'no good,' but definitely no good!"
Baring his teeth, Batenkaitos dodged every man with footwork alone. His fluid, unpredictable rhythm and erratically swaying upper body left them completely off balance, every dagger strike cutting nothing but air.
His lower body and upper body moved with entirely different technical systems—an oddity that was plain even to Otto's eyes. Dynas, seeing this too, let out an involuntary murmur from deep in his throat.
"Dynas?"
"Ah, no... sorry. His movements are a bit—wha!?"
"Don't be standing there gawking with that big body of yours!"
Dynas faltered, trying to deny the thought that had just crossed his mind. From behind, Felt kicked him in the rear.
As Dynas spun around, Felt puffed out her cheeks, flushing red, and glared up at him.
"Once you get into someone's guard, you just gotta go all in—doesn't matter if you swip their stuff or not. If you're gonna get chased around anyway, you use whatever you can to make sure you swipe it. You get that?"
"Why are you talking like a thief?"
Otto tilted his head at Felt's advice, but beside him, Dynas shook his head. He looked back at Felt, then prefaced with "You're right—" before continuing.
"This young lady's got the right idea. Whatever crosses your mind, spit it out—anything to find a breakthrough. For now, the thing that struck me as off is... that Archbishop of Sin. He looks like a brat, but his fighting style and his movement are way too polished. You can't just chalk it up to raw physical ability... but then again, it's not quite that either."
"——? Isn't there just... guys who are born freakishly good at fighting? Reinhard's one of those kinds of idiots too, right?"
"The fact that Reinhard is even a valid point of comparison makes me want to raise the white flag right now."
Felt's knight—Reinhard, the strongest swordsman in the kingdom.
He was currently accompanying Subaru in the assault on "Greed," but his strength was something even Otto, who had only dabbled in self-defense techniques, could feel in his bones. Just standing beside him brought an absolute sense of security paired with a swelling of fear. The title of kingdom's strongest was no idle boast. Perhaps even the title of "strongest on the continent" was no exaggeration.
On the other hand, being near Batenkaitos also produced a surging revulsion and discomfort—though it was a fundamentally different sensation from what Reinhard inspired.
Naturally, there was no denying Batenkaitos's extraordinary combat technique. But the quality of that skill was something else entirely.
"This is different from that. I've lived long enough and walked through my share of hellscapes... but that brat's fighting style—talent can't explain it. Those movements are the product of years upon years upon years of accumulation."
At Dynas's words, Otto and Felt took another look at Batenkaitos.
At that moment, Batenkaitos had just caught a dagger strike on his forearm. He seized the wrist of the man swinging the blade, pivoted his body to slip inside the man's guard, and then, carrying him on his back, hurled him to the ground.
Against the men pressing their attack, Gluttony's feet slid across the cobblestones in a sweeping arc, his limbs moving with ethereal grace to throw off their balance and send them tumbling.
There was indeed a clean, almost refreshing precision to those fluid movements that stood in stark contrast to the violent aura Batenkaitos exuded—a technique rooted in some form of martial discipline, clearly well-honed.
A boy who looked fourteen or fifteen, wielding techniques that should take years to master—perfectly?
"Perhaps someone they call a prodigy of martial arts could pull that off... but I'd hate to believe that brat was actually blessed with that kind of talent."
Dynas had been driven to say as much—that was the caliber of skill Batenkaitos had cultivated. At the same time, Otto finally grasped the meaning behind the whispered envy that one of the white-clad warriors fighting Gluttony had let slip earlier. They had realized the truth sooner than Otto had. That was why— "Dagger work, bare-handed combat, a complete martial discipline...?"
Speaking those words aloud, Otto felt a doubt surface in his own reasoning. The thought that had emerged was purely one of: "Is that level of ability actually possible?"
"————"
In the Volacian Empire to the south, it was said that there existed people who were captured and turned into arena gladiators from a young age, then trained and educated in fighting techniques. If Batenkaitos had grown up in such an environment, it might not be impossible to attain this level of skill at his current age—but even that kind of practical combat technique was something different from what he displayed.
The way to acquire such mastery was to find a proper teacher and learn techniques systematically.
Or— "To steal... no, to devour and consume as nourishment?"
Otto already knew from Subaru's own lips that Gluttony was a being who devoured a person's "name" and "memories." In fact, he had witnessed firsthand the girl whose name and memories had both been eaten, leaving behind not a trace of recognition in anyone's mind.
Impossible as it was to believe, he had no doubt that Gluttony was a creature that consumed the intangible. But until now, he had never considered what happened to what was devoured.
What if Gluttony could accumulate and wield the memories of those whose names he had eaten?
The techniques of a martial artist who had trained for over a decade, or the fighting style of a warrior who had survived countless battlefields—and the attacks of the girl who had stood by Subaru's side— "Magic incoming!"
"Gaston!"
"——El Hyuma!"
A shockwave of lightning struck, and Otto's shout came at the exact same moment as Batenkaitos's incantation.
The atmosphere froze with a crack, and the mass of ice that materialized smashed sideways into the "White Dragon's Scales" members who had not anticipated a magical assault.
But Gaston spread both arms wide and planted himself in the path of that ice storm. The big man's defensive power remained as formidable as ever, absorbing the hail of ice shards with his entire body. The "White Dragon's Scales" members dove behind his back, using him as a shield to minimize the damage. Even so, not all of it could be deflected.
"Good judgment on your part, Big Brother. It wasn't quite as much of a surprise as I'd hoped~"
Batenkaitos, who had cast the spell, raised the corner of his mouth as he surveyed the devastation.
Gaston, who had served as the wall, was panting heavily. Behind him, six members of the "White Dragon's Scales" were in rough shape—bloodied, one doubled over, two with injured legs. The remaining three were far from unscathed. Their fighting strength had been halved, and moreover— "Since that line just came out of your mouth, does that mean our hand's been shown?"
"Hmm, well, how about that~"
"Big Brother, you're not exactly suited for ambush tactics. Before you get hurt, maybe you should quit being a merchant~"
As Otto responded with strained composure, the very next instant Batenkaitos vanished.
No—he hadn't vanished. He had closed the distance with such swift, natural movement that it merely appeared that way. His compact frame slipped past Gaston's side and arrived beside the immobilized "White Dragon's Scales" members.
Instinctively, the three who could still move sprang backward—but the three who couldn't were left behind.
"Asta. Lucfelte. Hicks."
Whispering those names, Batenkaitos gently brushed his hand across the shoulders of three fallen men.
Before anyone could process what was happening, the three touched by Batenkaitos went rigid. Then Batenkaitos turned around, raised his left hand—the one that had touched them— —and licked his empty palm with a "lick."
The instant he did, Otto was swallowed by a creeping sense of wrongness.
Something had happened—of that, there was no doubt. But what? And it wasn't just that which he couldn't understand.
"Who are those people collapsed at his feet...?"
What Otto pointed at was the ground beneath Batenkaitos's feet, where the boy was idly extending his tongue.
At the feet of that boy-shaped malice, three figures in white robes lay crumpled. They were certainly collapsed—but their identities were impossible to determine. From their builds, they were probably members of the "White Dragon's Scales," but when had they appeared, and when had they been struck down?
"Sad, sad, so sad, sad indeed, sad, and sadder still—even if it's a one-sided reunion, we simply can't help but be satisfied~"
"Dynas! Who are those three?!"
"I don't recognize them! Never seen those faces before! But—!"
Being told that identical uniforms hid strangers he didn't know was not exactly convincing. But there was no deception or bravado in Dynas's voice—only urgency. He broke into a sprint, drawing twin blades, and slashed at Batenkaitos.
"Now, now, Dynas. We go way back. The purification of your homeland is only one step away, and yet here you are, fighting your own comrades—how wasteful~"
"——!? How do you know about that?!"
Batenkaitos trod carelessly on Dynas's personal affairs, then raised his right blade. He deflected two dagger strikes with a single fluid motion of his short sword, drove his knee up into Dynas's chest with Gluttony's signature thrust, and used the momentum to leap a full step backward.
Clutching his chest, Dynas coughed—but he moved to secure the three unconscious strangers even as he did. At the sight, Batenkaitos let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Don't be so attached to the vessel. What matters is the heart and what's inside, right? What makes a person who they are isn't the outside—it's the contents. We know about your efforts, Dynas. Milliam, Meili—you couldn't protect them, but it wasn't your fault. You were just unlucky."
"Shut up shut up shut up shut up! What do you know about me?! What could you possibly know?! Don't just say whatever you want, you miserable wretch!"
Dynas bellowed in rage, forgetting the pain of his injuries as he charged forward again. Twin blades flashed toward Batenkaitos, but the Archbishop deflected them with an expression that suggested he had seen this exact attack before. Then his hand reached for Dynas's back.
"Hm?"
"Don't ignore people forever, now."
"Not now, you idiot!"
Gaston tackled Batenkaitos from directly behind, wrapping his thick arms around the boy's slender frame. His elbow smashed into Batenkaitos's face, but the impact failed to make the Archbishop flinch.
And as Gaston held him down, Felt leaped in. She swung the slender bundle she had been clutching with both hands and brought it crashing down on Batenkaitos's unprotected back of the head.
"Don't feel bad about being called stupid. We probably know more than you do about all sorts of things!"
"Nngh!"
But Batenkaitos absorbed Felt's strike by hunching forward, then deflected it with the dagger raised in his right arm. The forceful blow landed with a creaking sound but went wide, and Felt's posture was thrown off balance, leaving her exposed.
Dynas and Felt had both left openings, and Gaston was within reach—Batenkaitos's malicious hand was about to reach all three— "Not on my watch, dear~!"
—inches from connecting, a glowing magic stone was thrown, red-hot, landing at Batenkaitos's feet. The instant he registered it, Batenkaitos's movement froze, and Felt and Dynas紧急 retreated.
"Don't let go, Gaston!"
"Remember this, you demon brat...!"
Gaston held on tight, keeping Batenkaitos trapped within the magic stone's blast radius. The red glow intensified, and an instant later, an explosion with enough force to tear up the cobblestones erupted.
Red and white light surged upward, and the shockwave sent Felt tumbling toward Otto's position. He barely caught her, then stared at the extent of the explosion.
It was one of the magic stones Otto always carried—"just in case." Ever since the battle with Garfiel in the
A costly measure, to be sure, but the results were nothing to scoff at.
"Is your companion alright?!"
"Heh, don't underestimate our big guy. He's my armor. A little attack like that isn't going to cut through him. But..."
Before Felt could finish, a massive figure burst through the settling dust. Gaston, his body covered in soot, was frantically slapping at his own face— "Argh! Hot! Hot! Hot! I'm dying!"
"Explosions and punches he can handle, but heat and cold are another story~"
Felt sighed at the sight of her retainer writhing in pain. He'd taken a fire magic stone at point-blank range, but it appeared his life was at least not in danger.
Having confirmed that much, Otto peered into the smoke. The black plume rising was of considerable size—there was no way Batenkaitos, at the epicenter, could have avoided it. Through the smoke, he could also see Dynas, who had dropped to one knee but likewise appeared to be uninjured.
Then— "Bennet. Calcifus. August."
"——!?"
A whisper of a voice, and everyone's attention snapped to a spot far from the blast zone.
There stood three fallen white-robed figures—and Batenkaitos, completely unscathed. The boy licked his left palm once again, the same casual "lick" as before.
In the next instant, three new white-robed figures materialized.
How they had escaped the explosion, who these sudden sacrifices were—everything was beyond comprehension.
"Damn it! Who are those guys?! Where did they even come from—no, when did they even get here?!"
Beside Otto, Felt violently tore at her beautiful golden hair. She, too, had lost all understanding of what she was witnessing.
She didn't even know what she needed to be urgently analyzing. But Otto had figured it out—this baffling phenomenon.
"So this is what it means to devour someone's 'name'—!"
A girl called "
The men collapsed on the ground, who appeared to be "White Dragon's Scales" members, must have had their names devoured by Batenkaitos. As a result, the memory of them having been "here" had vanished from Otto and the others' minds.
That was why they seemed to appear from nowhere—and why no one could tell who they were.
"————"
A chill of terror ran through him. He was confronted, anew, with the sheer viciousness of this规格外 monster.
If Rai Batenkaitos, Archbishop of Gluttony, had his way, then even if Otto and the others were completely annihilated here, not only would there be no trace of battle—there would be no trace of their very existence.
Not just the memory of having fought back, but the fact that they had been here at all.
The possibility that he himself would vanish, and that even the people who might remember him would disappear—was that not a terror greater than all others this world had to offer?
Otto's face went pale. Though Felt and Dynas had not arrived at the same conclusion, their expressions were equally grim. Now, far too late, they realized just how reckless their stand was.
It made one think they should have chosen to flee by any means necessary, regardless of appearances— "Son of a bitch, this guy's infuriating. Think we can pull the same trick one more time...?"
"————"
As cowardice began to creep into Otto's heart, Felt gripped her bundle and muttered that to herself. Otto found himself staring, dumbfounded, at her profile.
Felt's face betrayed the confusion of someone confronting the extraordinary. But her composed features were not wracked with despair. She had steeled her heart with the iron will not to break.
Feeling as though he'd been doused with cold water, Otto slapped his own cheek.
What on earth was he being cowardly about? Going bankrupt didn't count as defeat until you were ready to put the noose around your own neck. Right now, they hadn't even gotten to that point yet. There were still cards to play.
Seeing those two, Dynas and Gaston also rose to their feet with expressions of grim resolve. And when all four showed no sign of their fighting spirit breaking, Batenkaitos nodded with satisfaction— "Good, good, good, good, good, good! Splendid, magnificent—you lot are worthy of the table! I'll be promoting you to the upper tier of appetizers, Gaston. And as for Felt and Dynas—I'll be savoring every last bite~"
Clapping his hands together, Batenkaitos delivered his delicious appraisal of the three. Then Gluttony slowly turned his gaze to Otto. The blasphemer tilted his head, and just when Otto expected him to begin evaluating him in turn— He looked disappointed.
"So clever, so stubborn, so ripe with promise, Big Brother... and yet~"
"What do you—no."
Halfway through, Otto understood the reason for Batenkaitos's dissatisfaction.
The Archbishop had called Felt and the others' names with tender, adoring reverence. Coupled with the nature of his ability—to devour names—and the content of his words, the implication was clear.
Batenkaitos could not devour the "name" of someone whose name he did not know.
Therefore, Gluttony could not eat the "name" of Otto, who had not once been called by his name throughout this entire encounter.
That was the source of his frustration.
"I have a request of all three of you. Under no circumstances—never, ever call me by my name."
As long as his name was not spoken, Batenkaitos's objective could not be fulfilled—at least not fully.
Perhaps even those seemingly half-hearted attacks from Batenkaitos until now had actually been a means of discovering their names.
Granting them time to strategize, waiting for them to address one another by name—all in preparation for the meal— "Sorry, Big Brother."
That remark, springing directly from Otto's reasoning, made Felt look away with an apologetic grimace.
Her profile bore an unprecedented expression of embarrassment.
"I didn't even know your name to begin with..."
"Sorry, Chief Domestic Official. I knew your title but forgot your name..."
"Oh, of course! It's not like I'm close to any of you, after all! I'm not exactly an important person either, am I? Hooray—son of a bitch."
Gaston, naturally, shrugged as though he had no idea either.
It was a bittersweet feeling—somewhat welcome, somewhat not—but at least the risk of Batenkaitos learning their names had been drastically reduced. Of that, there was no doubt.
"Setting aside Dynas, those two might just be shielding you. If not, then well... extracting your name could become troublesome~"
"Wouldn't retreating for today and trying again another time be a valid strategy? Some other day, when you've had time to prepare... yes. If you were to come back when even Reinhard is present, we would gladly make arrangements—"
"Don't make me do an about-face right in front of a feast! I can't go back with just an appetizer's worth in my stomach. Louis would be furious with me~"
Of course, persuading Batenkaitos was out of the question. Then combat was unavoidable.
"Gaston, next time—do not let go, no matter what."
"You're fine because you don't feel pain, so you just do whatever you want..."
"Next time, I'll really get in there with you~"
Gaston, who had been about to protest the order, stared wide-eyed at Felt's words. Then he grinned roughly and ruffled her hair with a rough hand.
"Don't be giving me lip. If I let the young lady do anything reckless and that old man found out, you can bet I'd face his wrath."
"Don't touch my hair! The only one who gets to do that is Old
"That's exactly why I did it~"
Gaston took his place beside Felt, who was snorting with disheveled hair. Dynas drew his twin blades, and Otto counted the number of magic stones hidden in his sleeves.
Three in the left sleeve, two in the right. Five total—he would have to use them carefully.
"He touches with his left hand and eats. If you're touched, it's over."
"Just hearing that makes it sound stupidly difficult!"
"Getting hit by a sword at a vital spot ends things in one blow too. There's not much difference when it comes down to 'if it lands, you lose.'"
"Now that you mention it, yeah—you're right."
Felt nodded in reluctant agreement, and with that, their preparations were complete.
With perfect courtesy, Batenkaitos watched them finish. At that polite demeanor, Otto narrowed his eyes—and the blasphemer, sensing his intent, smiled.
"Aren't manners about waiting until the dishes are served? Bad-mannered as Louis may be, I'm a gourmet. I'm quite particular about my meals~"
With that, Batenkaitos gave a ceremonious bow.
The affected gesture looked almost like a habit—something performed so many times it had become second nature.
"Right then. I'll introduce myself properly. I am Rai Batenkaitos, Archbishop of Sin of the Witch Cult, assigned to 'Gluttony.'"
"............"
"Aren't you supposed to return the favor when someone introduces themselves? That's basic courtesy~"
"In all the talking we've done, there ain't a single idiot among us who'd introduce themselves to the likes of you."
By convention among warriors, it was customary to return one's name when named.
Batenkaitos might well have used this very convention to extract the names of countless people, lining them up on his plate and devouring them whole.
There was no reason for Otto's side to follow that custom. And when they refused, Gluttony simply laughed— "Well, naturally! —Then, let's dine!"
With the signal to begin the meal, Batenkaitos's compact body closed the distance in a single bound. The movement was unlike anything he had shown before—swift as a gust of wind.
Until now, Batenkaitos had relied solely on footwork and evasion to carry him through offense and defense. Now he was unleashing his true power—the full strength of a hunter going for the kill.
As a non-combatant, Otto's eyes could not track the movement, and he could not react in time.
But the other three were different.
"Don't think you can beat me in a race~"
Felt alone could keep pace with the wind-like speed of Batenkaitos's charge. The instant she pushed off the cobblestones lightly, her body moved as if carried by the wind, closing the gap in an instant.
That burst of speed seemed to catch even Batenkaitos off guard—his first strike went wide.
"——!"
And in that opening, Gaston and Dynas attacked simultaneously.
Dynas with twin blades, Gaston with a dagger snatched from the ground. Facing their slash, Batenkaitos—exposing himself to danger—dropped his stance and spread his legs.
Both hands hit the ground, and Batenkaitos's body spun with legs extended. His ice-cold sweep kicked both men's legs out from under them, sending Dynas and the others tumbling.
And then— "Whaaaaaa——!"
"Huh?"
Fourth in line, Otto charged in with a yell.
The fact that Otto—a non-combatant—would launch a close-quarters attack at this point must have caught Batenkaitos completely off guard. The Archbishop let out a stunned cry, and Otto succeeded in grabbing hold of him.
Now to restrain him—thought Otto. The very next moment, a piercing pain lanced through his abdomen. Batenkaitos's left fist had drilled into his gut, and Otto's body rolled across the ground.
"Guh—! *cough*!"
"Right person for the right job—just like a menu needs both rich and light dishes, you need to know when it's your turn to step up, Big Brother. Make sure to... take care of your opponent later~"
In front of Batenkaitos, who had let that slip mid-sentence, the two who had been thrown off-balance recovered.
Dynas scooped up the tumbling Otto while Gaston moved to shield them both. Batenkaitos tilted his head at the formation, then looked down at the ragged cloth draped over his own body— —and realized.
In the exact spot where Otto had grabbed him, two glowing magic stones hung.
"Oh my~"
His movement to detach them was too slow.
The instant Batenkaitos noticed the stones, both detonated simultaneously.
A fire magic stone and a water magic stone, performing in concert.
Red-yellow light and blue-white light swelled up in unison, and Batenkaitos's body was engulfed as the shockwave tore through him.
"——!!"
Otto and the others caught the periphery of the blast as well.
Most of it was absorbed by Gaston, who served as the wall, but even so, the force and the heat crashed over Otto like a wave. His skin was seared by flames on one side and burned by freezing cold on the other.
When the shockwave receded, the scene at the second epicenter was devastating. The cobblestones had been gouged out, exposing the bare earth beneath, and charred scraps of tattered cloth hung from the ruins.
"Ugh, that's really terrible. My only set of clothes is ruined."
And there—some distance from the epicenter—Batenkaitos had moved again.
But this time, even he had not escaped unscathed. The boy, his long hair still catching the aftershock of the explosion, muttered in a distinctly sour tone.
It seemed that the tattered cloth scattered at the blast site had indeed been the garment he was wearing. Having lost the rag that had previously covered his entire body, the skin beneath was now exposed.
"——Ugh."
Otto was the one who involuntarily groaned at the sight.
Gaston and Dynas fell silent as well, their expressions tightening at the same revelation.
—The boy's exposed skin, every inch of visible surface, was covered in a mass of scars.
Whip marks. Branding marks. Cuts from blades. Rough, gouged wounds. Rips and tears. The imprints of beast fangs. Bruises darkened to purple-black. Countless, countless scars.
Wearing nothing but a loincloth beneath the remains of his rag, the boy turned around and, noticing Otto and the others' furrowed brows, scowled.
"Forcing a child to strip out of his clothes and then reacting like that—ouch, you're hurting my feelings. Isn't this what grown-ups are into?"
"...I can't speak for the adults in your life, but most people would find that repulsive."
"Huh. So you'd feel sympathy again. Flip-flopping like that—that's exactly why you people can't be trusted!"
Spreading his arms wide to display his scar-covered body, Batenkaitos bellowed in outrage.
At his words, Otto grimaced, and Dynas looked equally ill. But the expressions of Felt and Gaston did not waver.
They glanced at the scowling Otto and the others, then sighed.
"Oh, come on. Don't let your head go to weird places. That's just how it is everywhere. It's not like you or I are any different—we just weren't on the receiving end, that's all."
Spinning the bundle in her hands, Felt delivered those words with pitiless clarity. There was not a shred of pity in her eyes. Of course, Otto knew the Archbishop deserved no sympathy—though being an Archbishop of Sin did not necessarily mean one had been born insane.
At the very least, seeing Batenkaitos's body might easily lead one to think otherwise— "—Useless imaginings only breed unnecessary regret."
"————"
Suddenly, a voice that should not have been present in the plaza rang out.
Everyone—including Batenkaitos—snapped their heads up.
The gaze of all five converged on one of the waterways surrounding the plaza—where a figure danced lightly through the air and descended.
A frilly dress billowing gently around her, cream-colored hair curled into ringlets. The composed, slightly aloof face was a familiar one, and large, round eyes surveyed the situation.
Upon landing her gaze on Otto, she let out an exasperated sigh.
"You and your soft-heartedness and your insufficient resolve—Subaru has more than enough of both for everyone. The only person Betty will be lending assistance to is Subaru... though I suppose this is a special case, strictly speaking."
"Yes, I'm sorry to trouble you. But truly—thank you."
Though the girl's words carried a sharp edge, Otto felt an overwhelming sense of relief so profound he nearly collapsed.
Her very presence was one of the "winning strategies" Otto had plotted.
"Now then—let's clean up this mess quickly, and I'll go let Subaru carry me."
Saying this with a languid expression, the girl raised her hand in a casual wave.
No—not a girl. A spirit. More precisely, one of the Great Spirits.