——She remembered being enveloped in red, red flames that burned everything.
The peaceful, stagnant, decadent days came to an abrupt end.
Before that madness of violence, the title of strongest demihuman, the position of village chief feared by all, the universal love of a parent protecting their child — none of it meant a thing.
It was a grievous error to have noticed the spread of slaughter so late.
——No, perhaps in this case, it was the enemy's efficiency that deserved praise.
They were beings loathed, shunned, cast out, and persecuted by the world.
And so, they knew how to lurk in darkness, suppress their presence, muffle their sounds, and creep near unseen.
At the moment of the first ambush, the outcome could be said to have been decided.
By the time the faint stagnation of mana in the atmosphere registered — sensed by her horns — it was too late.
First, half the village's population was cut down in the opening strike, halving those capable of fighting. On top of that, among those who sensed the anomaly but failed to grasp the urgency, mistaking it for some error, yet another half fell.
In short, their hearts had rotted from peace and tranquility.
The Oni tribe — once called the strongest demihuman race, whose participation in the Demihuman War could have changed the fate of the
In any case, the half reduced by the first blow was halved again by the second.
By the time fires blazed across the village and death screams echoed through the blood-red night sky, every Oni in the village had sensed the anomaly.
However, only two among them realized that this night marked the end of the Oni tribe —— "——
The elder, having enlarged his two massive horns and swelled every muscle in his body, roared those words.
Hefting his great blade, the elder burst from his house and shouted at Ram, who was cutting through enemy ranks with her wind. "Live" — he said it not out of concern for Ram.
It was because the elder most obstinately believed that Ram was the glorious future of the Oni tribe.
The revival of the Oni God, who had reigned supreme in the age of the
That was the role expected of the prodigy named Ram, and as the last chief of a tribe that had forgotten how to fight, it was surely his heartfelt wish.
"Ha!"
What a fool — she wanted to laugh and dismiss it with a snort.
At a time like this, the wish of the tribe's representative Oni was to entrust the realization of an unreachable dream to the future? Gather your companions quickly and launch a counterattack — there were plenty of things that could be done.
But Ram had no intention of offering such counsel to the chief.
This night was not the reason.
Long, long ago, Ram had already given up on her own kind.
"The glory of the Oni..."
Meaningless. Meaningless. Meaningless.
That the purest blood of such an Oni tribe flowed through her own veins — that fact was loathsome too.
It was true that when she craved power, her blood would boil, exhilaration would seize her whole body, and she would be filled with an omnipotence as if everything existed for her sake.
In truth, had Ram grown normally, that omnipotence might have become real.
But Ram did not wish for it.
Rather than playing god's child in a narrow world, Ram had a future she wanted to choose.
It was worth far more than being paraded about as the revival of the Oni God, or spending a lifetime as the sacred palanquin of a bloodline clinging to glory long since destroyed.
——To live as a ■■, as a ■.
"————"
Focusing her consciousness on her forehead, she drew the heat-radiating mana into her body through her white horn.
When she poured her will into it, Ram's perception expanded vast and wide, seizing the vision of every living thing in her surroundings, granting her a perfect grasp of what was unfolding in this small village.
The enemy was numerous, and a cordon had been laid to prevent anyone from escaping.
At the initial stage, the response had been delayed, and only half of those remaining — half again — had managed any semblance of resistance. But even those had dwindled to a number countable on one hand, the Oni tribe's resolve apparently spent.
The elder was putting up a considerable fight, but the enemies that had converged on him were formidable — the aura of the elder, sinking into a disadvantage, was steeped in a dense aura of "death."
"——■■"
Ram, her small body cloaked in wind, tore through the village like a gale.
What her lips wove, what occupied her mind, was nothing but the name of the one precious ■. That did not mean Ram was cold-hearted. She was merely switching her focus.
For Ram's parents had been among the first half, and by that point there was no saving them.
——She had never hated her parents.
But both of them, for better or worse, were Oni born and raised in this village, who had unconsciously accepted the slow decline that awaited death here.
And so, losing their lives on this night was, in a sense, inevitable.
However—— "——That doesn't mean I won't exact retribution."
Standing before her, a dark shadow — an enemy shrouded head to toe in a hooded robe.
Ram unleashed her wind without mercy upon the wretch who wielded a sword shaped like a cross.
Had they underestimated her as a child, or was it simply a lack of skill?
Unable to withstand Ram's wind blades, the dark shadows fell one after another, mass-producing gruesome corpses. Ram continued to cloak herself in wind, dancing through the flames as she carried on the slaughter.
In one light, it might have appeared a scene from a beautiful dance.
But in truth, with every swing of Ram's arm, life scattered, and with each form of existence she extinguished, dark rapture cried out in joy within her youthful heart.
Kill more — it howled.
Take blood, flesh, bone, soul, life — her inner self drove her onward.
This was not the first time she had heard that voice.
——For so long, from the very moment she was born, that voice had been whispering its temptations whenever there was a gap.
Devote yourself to blood, flesh, bone, soul, life — it demanded her inner self's awakening.
Kill more, destroy more — it clamored.
What was so magnificent about any of this? Ram could not understand in the slightest.
The elder, her parents — not a single one of them could understand. Those who asked of Ram a role beyond simply being Ram — she had no inclination to convey this to them.
It was as if the horns themselves were dominating her.
Without a firm sense of self, her young personality would have been easily swallowed and destroyed, becoming nothing more than the revival of the Oni God that everyone around her wished for.
But that was not what happened. Because —— "——Big ■!!"
Called out in a high voice, she turned to see ■■ illuminated by the flames.
In that instant, the surging wind swept away the black shadows bearing down on her, scattering them in a single breath.
And then, Ram hurried toward ■.
"■■..."
With frightened eyes and legs that wouldn't bear weight, ■■ had collapsed where she stood.
Ram reached out her hand to her precious ■, trying to help her stand. As the elder wished, she had to survive. But not just Ram — together with ■■ —.
——That was the moment.
Having confirmed ■■'s safety, a brief lapse in vigilance crept in.
By the time she noticed the presence, she was surrounded, and carving out an escape route would be nearly impossible. Alone, it wouldn't be out of the question. But surviving alone was no different from dying.
Somehow, she had to break through this situation.
To do so, she unsealed every chain holding back her power and turned the raging wind upon the enemy —— "————"
It was perhaps the gap in her heart wrought by the omnipotence she so loathed.
A shadow slipped through the wind blades, and the flash of its strike struck her forehead squarely. Her vision exploded.
Reeling from the massive impact, tasting an overwhelming sense of loss, Ram watched.
Spinning, spinning — into the red night illuminated by the flames consuming the village — a white horn spiraled away through the air.
Understanding that it was her own horn, her slender throat let out a scream of pain and loss.
And yet, even as she screamed, Ram simultaneously realized.
That voice which had gnawed at her ever since birth — she could no longer hear it.
Ah, was it really this simple? Her own foolishness struck her as almost funny.
Watching the horn trace its parabola against the red sky —— ——Ah, it finally broke.
That was what she thought.
△▼△▼△▼△ ——The vision shared through "Clairvoyance" showed the black earth dragon fleeing with desperate effort.
Upon its back was the girl who should have have been Ram's other half.
The missing wing, leaving behind only the hollow sensation of loss, a memory she could no longer recall —— "——
Understanding what that meant, Ram's entire being trembled with fury.
Painful as it was to admit, with Subaru's help Ram had regained a fraction of her former full-strength power — power sufficient to overwhelm and corner
Ram could say without hesitation that there had been countless opportunities to simply kill him.
However, his troublesome Authority — the power to devour others' "memories" and "names" — made Ram hesitate to recklessly take the life of that blasphemer.
It was not mercy, but a decision compelled by necessity. But results were results.
And as a result, Batenkaitos had used his Authority to escape from Ram, then moved to secure Ram's other half — Rem.
His aim was obvious — he had grown convinced that he could not win against Ram in a straight fight.
Fight head-on, and upon realizing the disadvantage, withdraw and change tactics.
The Archbishops of Sin were not warriors or anything of the sort. They existed only to greedily fulfill their own desires, and there was not a single reason for them to care about how they won.
Therefore, it was a strategy born of retaliation against Ram for humiliating him, and of using Rem's stolen "memories" as leverage to chip away at the time limit of the hornless Ram.
And infuriatingly, it was the optimal solution.
If Rem fell into his hands, Ram could be neutralized with ease.
Even if not, spending more time here would drain their forces significantly. With each passing moment, their chances of victory diminished.
So —— "I need to catch up to
Fortunately, Patrasche, entrusted with Rem's protection, was arguably the most dependable earth dragon in the tower's roster, second only to Julius.
Subaru and
And this was complicated, but Batenkaitos was clearly toying with Patrasche.
Where he could have cornered her in an instant, he deliberately eased his attacks, creating gaps in the pursuit, enjoying the hunt of weakening his prey.
All of it — so that Ram would witness this scene through the shared vision.
She could not allow him to continue doing as he pleased —— "——Ah."
In the very instant she prepared to dash forward, cloaked in wind, her vision blurred. The perspective climbing the spiral staircase toward the upper floor wavered, and for a moment, the "Clairvoyance" wavered. Maintaining Batenkaitos's vision in her right eye and her own in her left, the scenery continued to blur.
And that was not all. A heavy fatigue she had not felt until now, along with a nauseating discomfort as though invisible hands were clawing at her insides — descended upon Ram herself.
This was unmistakably the effect of the exhaustion Ram always bore.
The cost meant to gnaw eternally at the hornless Ram — which Subaru had boldly claimed to bear through some Authority — was bouncing back onto Ram.
What flashed through her mind in an instant was the possibility that Subaru had died a pathetic dog's death.
But she could rule that out based on how light the burden bouncing back to her was. Even for just a few minutes, considering the power Ram had drawn upon, the cost should have been far worse.
It should have been the kind of suffering where she coughed up blood and writhed on the ground without anyone batting an eye.
The fact that it wasn't meant that while an unexpected event had certainly occurred, it had not caused Subaru to withdraw from the battle entirely.
Or — the opposite scenario could be imagined from the events that transpired.
That is to say, someone else had suffered misfortune that Subaru had to bear — misfortune exceeding even Ram's own physical burden.
"Beatrice, or Meili, Sir Julius..."
Those were the possibilities, but there was no point in trying to pin down the answer.
What mattered was that, at this moment, Ram found it difficult to unleash the kind of power she had used to overpower Batenkaitos earlier. Of the shackles she wore, only one more could be released.
If she pushed herself, perhaps a second could be unsealed, but whether that could be maintained for even tens of seconds was anyone's guess.
Could that be enough to defeat Lye Batenkaitos —— "Why am I feeling sorry for myself? — I have no choice but to devise a strategy to win."
Even as she spoke, the likelihood of their camp's victory continued to dwindle.
Ram set her foot firmly on the step she had nearly missed and charged up the spiral staircase.
——All the while feeling the absence ache within her, as if recalling a time when she had once raced out of breath to reach her fleeing sister.
△▼△▼△▼△ "——!!"
"Hahaa! You're really something! Keep at it, for an earth dragon!"
He praised the black earth dragon sprinting through the narrow corridor even as his thrown daggers scarred its scales.
Blood seeped miserably from the gouged wounds, but the earth dragon executed a wise retreat, determined not to shake off the condition of its own victory.
The "Blessing of Wind Resistance" was a trait shared by all of the earth dragon species.
As long as the earth dragon kept running, it could disregard most external factors — wind, poor footing — and the act of "running" for its purpose was affirmed.
That benefit extended to the dragon carriage linked to the earth dragon, and the dragon rider on its back.
In other words, the "Sleeping Beauty" lashed to the saddle in an unconscious state had not been shaken off precisely because of that "Blessing of Wind Resistance."
Without it, the "Sleeping Beauty" would have long since fallen into Batenkaitos's hands.
"Incredible, incredible, so brave, so brave! Even with all these things trying to stop you from running, you still manage to keep going — I'm honestly impressed! Well, if you stopped, the 'Blessing of Wind Resistance' would deactivate, so I can understand the desperation!"
"——!!"
"Earth dragons are great — hardworking, loyal to their masters. I bet if you were human, you'd be one of us 'Gourmands' most coveted dishes! But, but but but but but but! Sad to say, an earth dragon's belly can't be filled by us!"
They had will. They had souls. They had "memories." They had "names."
And yet, the Authority of Gluttony could not devour "those" who were not human.
And so, no matter how earnestly, how desperately, how bravely the earth dragon stood against an insurmountable enemy, Batenkaitos could not show it love in the way that mattered most to him.
It looked so delicious that his mouth watered, and yet he could not eat it.
It was as if it were a meal painted on canvas by the supreme brush of an artist. — There was a saying, apparently, that you couldn't eat a mochi drawn in a picture.
"Ah, that's it, that's it! That's exactly it! When you're starving and starving and starving and starving and can't stand it anymore — seeing a picture of food this delicious is nothing short of cruelty! Isn't this basically child abuse!?"
Chasing the sprinting earth dragon, he snorted out the clot of blood from his nose.
His face had been crushed in the preceding battle, his left eyeball rolling loosely in its shattered socket. Fangs broken, tongue split, blood flowing ceaselessly to wet his jaw — but none of it mattered.
——The thought that Ram was watching this scene sent a thrill through him to the very core.
"Big Sister is ——"
Pure, noble, flawless, an impeccable and complete being.
That was the testimony of the "memories" slumbering within Batenkaitos, and he considered it a perfectly fair assessment earned only after being utterly thrashed and half-killed.
When Ram fought seriously, Batenkaitos was no match for her. — No, perhaps any of the Archbishops of Sin would be easily crushed by a serious Ram.
If it were Regulus, perhaps his Authority's absoluteness might have made for a proper contest — but — "Well, Big Sister couldn't possibly be killed by a fool like that, right? In the end, if she couldn't kill him, the best she could do was drop him into the Great Waterfall or something, and that would be that."
Even if she couldn't kill him, there were countless ways to seal him away.
Just as the "Witch of Envy," whom even the Three Great Heroes couldn't kill, remained sealed in the shrine of the Warden Stone.
In other words, regardless —— "To properly entertain the most perfect Big Sister in existence, we need to make the proper preparations ourselves — it'd be rude not to, wouldn't it?"
Batenkaitos cracked open his wobbling left eye and let a ghastly grin drip with blood spread across his face.
The earth dragon's speed was considerable, but indoors its maneuverability was a waste of a treasure. What's more, between steps Batenkaitos applied footwork derived from "memories" to traverse space itself, able to close the distance that had been opened as if it had never existed.
"As Big Sister's little sister, I need to show growth I can be proud of."
With his sense of mission surging, Batenkaitos pulled a "memory" from within himself.
The Authority of Gluttony included an ability known as "Eclipse." It was broadly divided into "Solar Eclipse" and "Lunar Eclipse," but it was extremely difficult to use effectively.
"Lunar Eclipse" — the phenomenon of the moon appearing to wane. — In essence, it drew out the "memories" of those devoured and reproduced them within Batenkaitos's own body.
This was the true essence of "Lunar Eclipse": Batenkaitos's standard practice of perusing a wide variety of "memories," combining them, and deploying them as superior composite combat arts.
"Solar Eclipse," on the other hand — the phenomenon of the sun being obscured. — Rather than merely drawing out "memories," it superimposed the very existence of the devoured upon oneself, and operated according to the original's full specifications.
Naturally, the original user's body was more suited to wielding their technique, making it stronger.
However, when transforming one's body into the other's, there was a danger of being too strongly influenced by the other's psyche, which could have significant repercussions later. For that reason, unless circumstances demanded it, Batenkaitos and Alphard did not use these abilities frequently.
Lye Batenkaitos and
Louis Arneb primarily employed "Solar Eclipse" — it was a hidden card that only Louis, who lacked a physical body and a firm sense of self, could use freely.
But when Batenkaitos reproduced "the Leaper"
He had mastered the "Solar Eclipse" he had previously feared to use lest he lose himself, and discovered the art of maintaining a firm identity through it.
Now he could savor the "life" of his opponents — the main course — more perfectly, more efficiently.
"Growing in the midst of battle — something that could never happen to an old fossil like me! Ha ha! This is a masterpiece! Isn't it, Big Sister!?"
Thanks to his firmly established sense of self, he felt remarkably refreshed.
He wanted his wonderful Big Sister to properly see this awakened version of himself. For that, he needed to select methods that stoked her hatred further.
The scent of rage, the taste of rage, the texture of rage — the full course.
To fully savor everything he could feel from the one he loved — that was what it meant to be a "Gourmand."
And for that purpose, regarding what was on the earth dragon's back — his own "self" —— "Come to think of it, I've never really done this before. Killing yourself — I wonder if this counts as discovering an entirely new set of values?"
"——!!"
The instant he winked, a short-range spatial leap shifted the world.
The earth dragon, whose roar exploded from deep in its throat, was startled by Batenkaitos's sudden appearance behind it. It tried to rush past without slowing.
Brave — truly brave. But bravery would only serve as spice for the tragedy to come.
"——Fist King's Palm."
A fist, thrown with full force, drove clean into the earth dragon's flank.
Normally, that would be a single punch from Batenkaitos's diminutive frame, but having awakened through staring into the abyss of death, broken through his shell and gained new power, he was no longer what he once was.
The original body of Neiji Lockheart pierced the earth dragon's torso with the impact.
The Iron Fist of the Fist King — which in countless death matches on the gladiator island had felled even a giant in full armor with a single blow.
The earth dragon let out a fatal cry and was slammed violently into the corridor wall. But even as it tumbled, it continued shielding the girl on its back — from the fist, from the wall, from the floor, and from its own massive body.
As the girl began to fall, it caught her gently with its tail and set her down on the corridor floor.
For a female, its treatment was remarkably gentlemanly — something the gentlemen present could have learned from.
Batenkaitos, unable to help himself, burst into applause.
"However! Despite the trouble of gently laying her on the floor — I'm afraid I'll have to snap her neck and present her as a gift to Big Sister!"
"——!!"
"Yes, yes, don't struggle, don't struggle — here's a reward for your hard work."
He kicked up the lower jaw of the earth dragon, which even while toppled on its side tried to bite at him.
It almost brought tears to how hard it was trying, but unfortunately, Batenkaitos and the earth dragon were enemies. They could salute each other's fighting spirit, but they could never share the same sky of victory.
If one won, the other lost. Such was the cruel reality of things.
"So! Remember! This! Well!"
With each word, each pause, each exclamation, he drove the lesson into the black earth dragon with painstaking care.
With its cheekbones and forelegs shattered, crouching low, the earth dragon surely had this lesson engraved upon it along with the pain. Fortunately, Batenkaitos did not devour earth dragons' "memories."
So there was no reason to take its life. He wanted them to remember this day together.
And then —— "For Big Sister's sake, I'll take care of Big Sister's precious Rem — with Rem's own hands ——"
"——Don't say such creepy things."
The instant that sharp, clear voice rang out, the face about to pounce on Rem was blasted away with tremendous force.
The voice had come from the front — and two shoe soles struck the face dead on. Batenkaitos was sent flying backward, sliding across the floor on his back.
And then —— "Ahhahahahahaa... so you've finally caught up, Big Sister. We... ahem? We two... we guys...? — Rem has been waiting."
Slowly, from a supine position, rising with the strength of his legs alone.
And as he fixed his gaze upon his beloved other half head-on, Ram wore an expression he had never seen before.
"......You've gotten quite ugly in a short time."
△▼△▼△▼△ "......You've gotten quite ugly in a short time."
That was Ram's honest assessment upon catching up to this terribly tasteless chase.
Still maintaining her hold on Batenkaitos's vision, Ram dragged her half-released body along, trusting in Patrasche's struggle, and arrived at the scene.
In that corridor on the fourth floor, some distance from the spiral staircase, she found the earth dragon beaten to a pulp and Rem laid beside it.
And draped over Rem —— "Ugly? Big Sister, that's so mean... We've been thinking about Big Sister so much, so much, so, so, so, so, so, so much!!"
His speech was unstable, his tongue in knots, his thoughts a maelstrom — that was the root of his mental aberration, and Ram — no, anyone could have seen it at a glance.
Because Batenkaitos's form was that distorted.
"————"
What he had shown was the ability to reproduce "memories" in physical form, copying the appearance of the devoured exactly — that should have been his hidden trump card.
But it appeared even that was a forbidden technique for Batenkaitos. The Archbishop of Gluttony before Ram's eyes was not one specific "memory," nor all of them — it was a jumbled, shapeless mess.
Everywhere he looked, features were mixed and mashed together.
A portion of the bald old man who had leaped through space. A portion of the obese giant whose body could not withstand Ram's wind blades. A portion of the martial artist whose combat ability had reached the divine realm. And beyond those, the physical traits of various other human beings composed this grotesque body.
The right hand and left hand were different lengths, the hands themselves different sizes — and if one looked closely, even the face seemed to be assembled from different portions, each referencing someone else.
The only feature of the original Batenkaitos that remained, if pressed, was perhaps his gaze — and even that might have been borrowed.
And it seemed Batenkaitos himself was oblivious to this distorted state.
"——?"
Batenkaitos was becoming something that was no longer anything.
Originally, a being specialized in stealing the "memories" of others — he may have always lacked a firm foundation of self. That was perhaps why he had broken.
And what had been born in its place —— "——A monster playing at being Rem. Honestly, this is the first time I've been this angry."
Looking down at the sister whose face she knew, at the fragments that filled the void where she should have been — Ram felt nothing but revulsion toward Batenkaitos, who had even incorporated her features into that face of his.
How perfectly he managed to rub people the wrong way.
A competition between him and Subaru over who could be more irritating — now that would be something.
"You fought hard, Patrasche. Take Rem and fall back."
"——!!"
His response was weak, Patrasche coughing up blood. Ram sheltered the dragon behind her as he dragged his massive body, gripping Rem's collar, and retreated. She wanted to move them far from the battlefield — but — "I said no, Big Sister! She's the essential appetizer — you simply must have side dishes before savoring the main course, wouldn't you agree ——"
"——Drop dead."
She stepped forward with a foot as big as a human head and directed her palm at the face about to spew another absurdity.
Swirling at that palm was a small-scale tempest — a whirlwind of blades powerful enough to shred everything from the neck up. — Here, at last, Ram stopped holding back.
She had tried to avoid killing, seeking a way to restore the "memories," and the result was Rem placed in danger and Patrasche gravely wounded.
Ram took that weight upon herself. She would have to apologize to Subaru — profusely.
And to ensure she never repeated this mistake, she committed the killing intent.
Given Batenkaitos's latest deranged outburst, the chances of getting a coherent answer from him were slim. All things considered, this was the right choice.
Defeat Batenkaitos and shoulder the physical burden from Subaru.
Then return Patrasche and Rem to the Green Room, and Ram should rush to support whoever else needed it.
That was as far as her thoughts had gone.
"————"
In the instant before her palm would have shredded the face in a storm, Ram's eyes widened at the change she witnessed.
It was nothing complicated. Once again, Batenkaitos's appearance had simply changed.
But this was a change that, for Ram above all others, could not be overlooked.
——Upon the forehead of that face composed of multiple individuals' features, a single white horn had appeared.
"If that's... truly, truly, purely driven by instinct, then I have to take my hat off."
Everything — everything Batenkaitos did was an act designed to push Ram's buttons.
"——Big Sister."
For one instant, in a face identical to Rem's, with a voice that Rem herself might have uttered, she was called out.
The massive arm of Batenkaitos struck the rigid face of Ram.
△▼△▼▼△▼△ Not fatal.
But not light enough to be optimistic about either.
Her brain rattled, blood dripped from her nose.
Her footing growing unsteady despite the lack of related physical burden — that was proof of severe damage.
And what had delivered it was a lovely girl with blue hair and a gentle expression — what kind of joke was this, when three faces of the same aura filled this space?
"Please cry, Big Sister."
With a supplicating aura, tears floating in those pale blue eyes, a fist swung.
Each blow sent shockwaves to the marrow of her bones, or perhaps to the soul beyond.
"Please get angry, Big Sister."
A strike to the stomach bent her face downward, and her jaw was punched straight through from below. She managed not to bite her tongue, but was driven back by another gut blow and took an elbow to the temple — a combo she was helpless to resist.
"Please laugh, Big Sister."
The affection in his voice clawed at Ram's heart with every word.
All this time, in Ram's awareness, Rem had been sleeping. Her "memories" erased — the sister who should always have been by her side but was nowhere, stolen away.
She had been looking forward to the moment when those eyes would open, when she would be called by name for the first time.
At that time, Ram wasn't sure whether she would have restored her sister's memories.
Whether she had or hadn't, the first words spoken at that moment were sure to be something as special as a first cry.
And yet —— "Cry" "Get angry" "Laugh" "Suffer" "Smile" "Wince" "Pout" "Rise" "Blush" "Blush" "Fidget" "Flinch" "Celebrate"
"Big Sister" "Big Sister" "Big Sister" ——.
"Don't ——"
She tried to roar, telling him to stop calling her that, but a palm heel sealed her mouth shut before the words could escape.
The monster Ram had cornered and inadvertently created — its power was overwhelming.
No hesitation. No limits to what he could draw. No awareness that he had lost himself. And yet, he refused to separate his form from Ram's precious other half.
Though both moon and sun were obscured, the darkness had painted the Archbishop of Gluttony in a perfect coat.
Naturally, Ram was not simply a punching bag. She fought back.
Unsealing as much as Subaru could bear, exceeding the self-imposed limit of mere tens of seconds, she poured everything she had into the effort to finish him off.
And it was as if her blows struck nothing at all.
"Big Sister, Big Sister, making that face — that doesn't suit you."
"——!!"
Corrected by a fist from the sister who pouted and made a sweet expression, Ram's face was punched through.
Her face caved in, her body slammed into the wall behind her. Ram, facing a blasphemer, barely maintained the dignity to remain standing. But that was all she had left.
How much time had passed since this fight with the monster began?
Ten seconds, twenty seconds — she had long since exceeded the time limit she had set for herself. Subjective time was unreliable, and there was no leeway to count actual seconds.
The only thing that mattered was whether she had managed to escape — or bought enough time.
She had simply played the role of a punching bag, supporting Patrasche and Rem's retreat.
That had presumably been her goal, but her head had taken too many blows for even that to be certain.
Her body was heavy. Breath labored. Head pounding, throat parched, limbs numb. Blood trickled from the old wound on her forehead. From the white scar where her horn had been, blood streamed down, bisecting her face.
"——That's filthy. Not allowed."
That blood-streaked face was struck by a palm once more.
The blow sent her sliding, and finally her knees could no longer support her weight. Just as she was about to topple sideways, a small voice cut in — "naughty" — and a kick was delivered.
It struck her undefended chest, and with her breastbone groaning, Ram slammed into the wall.
At some point, the
In other words, pounded repeatedly along with Ram's battering, the wall finally shattered.
Ram tumbled through the stone wall and rolled into the corridor beyond.
Dust and smoke billowed around her. Blood and grit coated her tongue, and she coughed. In the next instant, broken bones and crushed flesh all began screaming in chorus.
She turned her head, trying to figure out where she had been thrown.
"......Ah."
A small, hoarse breath escaped.
It may have been disappointment — or perhaps a bittersweet sentimentality.
In the corridor ahead, within Ram's field of vision, stood Patrasche and Rem.
The distance — a dozen meters at most. The time Ram had bought had been stretched immeasurably long by her suffering; it was only a dozen seconds, felt as an eternity.
"Big Sister, Big Sister, are you all right?"
Shamelessly asking if she was fine, Batenkaitos bypassed the shattered wall and took the long way around the corridor toward her.
In that time, Ram somehow managed to stand, cradling one arm.
Leaning against the wall, she exchanged gazes with the battered Patrasche.
"——!!"
"......Yes, I know. Once it's all over, we'll both give Barusu a good scolding."
She wasn't actually sure what Patrasche had said.
But the fact that the black earth dragon offered no correction proved that Ram's answer was not far off the mark.
"————"
Ram had to admit that her judgment had backfired.
Not killing Batenkaitos first — that had been the trigger for everything.
She had tried to correct that mistake by going for the kill immediately, but Batenkaitos, having survived from the brink of death, had honed an eye for finding optimal solutions.
As a result, having his sleeping sister's form snatched away, Ram panicked — and took a hit.
Every card she had played was exhausted, and the ones she drew turned against her at every turn.
Ram was aware that she excelled in every aspect — but there was one thing she knew, with utter helplessness, that she lacked.
——Fortune.
From the day her horn was broken and her nature as an Oni was damaged, that had not changed.
Then again, she had never been particularly attached to her nature. Ram herself had found the white horn growing from her forehead the most loathsome thing in the world.
And yet, now — conveniently — she found herself wishing she had that lost horn back.
——No, that wasn't quite right. The horn itself still existed.
The horn was still in Ram's possession. The beloved staff she always carried with her — its core was made from Ram's broken horn.
The horn was a vital organ that efficiently gathered the mana the Oni tribe's resilient bodies required.
As such, as a catalyst for wielding magic, there was nothing more suited to Ram than it.
That was why Roswaal had gone to the trouble of recovering the horn and having the staff custom-made.
And yet, that horn — sitting inside a staff rather than on her forehead, merely in a different location — made such a difference — Such a difference — "————"
A thought flickered through Ram's mind, triggered by the notion of her horn.
It was not merely about the horn's presence or absence. It was the result of everything: the fact that Ram had once overwhelmed Batenkaitos, the knowledge she had mobilized to break through this situation and connect the threads of possibility.
Ram with a broken horn, and Rem still sleeping.
The latter was a matter of outcome, but the former — why had Roswaal collected Ram in the first place?
Ram knew the role Roswaal expected of her.
She also knew the plan he intended to carry out in the process.
She had been told that when the time came, the method would become clear on its own — and that she was needed.
That was why Ram had resolved not to inquire until that time arrived.
But at this moment — it was Ram herself, the still-sleeping Rem, Patrasche who had fought on their behalf — the thought she needed to survive surfaced.
It was an utterly outlandish possibility.
But at the same time, she could hold her head high and call it a convincing deduction.
If it was the Roswaal L. Mensel she loved —— "He would do it, even at the cost of being called inhuman."
Murmuring this, Ram drew the staff at her hip with trembling hands.
She stared at the staff she had wielded for ten years, then smashed it against the wall with all her strength.
From inside the shattered staff, something she had not seen in a long time sprang forth.
——Just like before, spinning, spinning, spinning to the point of being an eyesore.
△▼△▼△▼△ Slowly, sweeping aside the billowing white dust in the corridor with his hand, Batenkaitos stepped forward.
His movements were refined, his steps graceful. Not making more noise than necessary was a maid's basic courtesy — the minimum consideration to avoid bringing shame to his mistress.
Beyond the smoke, his beloved sister should be lying.
He had wanted to see all the different faces of hers. Eyes blazing with fierce emotion, that incandescent crimson gaze — he wanted to look straight back into those eyes.
It was such a pure desire it could almost be called love.
"Oh my."
"——!!"
Beyond the smoke, the first thing he saw was the black earth dragon dragging its injured body.
The earth dragon — the one that had disappeared during his conversation and communion with Big Sister. It was not particularly interesting in itself, but the being it had carried had a purpose.
Anything that might casually draw Big Sister's attention — he wanted to erase it.
He wanted to be the only one who could call Big Sister by her name, who could follow her. Big Sister was his alone.
"Ah, there you are."
Behind the writhing earth dragon, there was the "Sleeping Beauty" leaning against the wall.
Propped up perfectly — the neck and heart would be easy targets. Finish her off quickly, then move on to the main course — Big Sister.
Just as he moved to close the distance with the "Sleeping Beauty," Batenkaitos noticed something.
——The crown of the girl's blue hair, bowed downward — it was faintly, softly glowing.
He momentarily wondered what the source of that light could be.
But his self-awareness immediately denied the answer. There was no way — the sleeping girl could not possibly — "Let me correct you."
"——uh, si..."
"I thought I lacked fortune. —But that wasn't the case."
He tried to call out to the source of the voice he'd heard, but could not.
A strike, faster than anything, punched clean through Batenkaitos's face. Shock registered, and in the next instant a shockwave tore through, blasting him in the opposite direction down the corridor he had walked.
"——!!?"
The sheer force robbed him of any chance to slow down. Batenkaitos smashed through two walls before coming to a stop.
More than pain or agony, it was astonishment that overwhelmed him. Even after rising, the weight of the damage drove him to his knees. It had been a blow that shattered him to the core.
Batenkaitos, his delicate face painted with shock, wondered what had happened —— "It seems even the Heavens are head over heels for Ram and Rem's cuteness."
Right after he fixed his gaze on the gap in the wall he himself had shattered, seeking to peer through the billowing smoke, a palm grabbed his face at a speed that left sound behind.
And he saw, up close, the owner of that hand — the one crushing his cheekbones and jaw with its grip.
It was —— "Sis... ter..."
"I hate to break it to you, but Ram's little sister is sleeping in the back. I can clearly tell through 'Synesthesia.'"
"Syn... thesia...?"
"'Synesthesia.' It seems Ram and Rem were close sisters. Joy, anger, grief, pain — they could share all those things. —Including the burden of reactivating a broken horn."
He didn't quite grasp the meaning.
But what Batenkaitos had seen with his own eyes had been confirmed.
Before being blasted away, what he had glimpsed on the forehead of the "Sleeping Beauty" leaning against the wall was a white horn — the innate treasure of that demon girl, the one thing in which she surpassed her sister.
That was there. That was glowing. That was connected. And somehow — "Barusu's strategy being the key is irritating, but fine."
"What has Sub... aru-kun done..."
"——Stop calling Barusu by that name with that face and that voice."
"——!!"
In an instant, his entire face still in her grip, Batenkaitos was lifted bodily and slammed into the ground with devastating force.
Batenkaitos lay there, limbs trembling. Before him, Ram opened and closed her palm as if confirming something, blood streaming abundantly from the old wound on her forehead.
But rather than finding the bleeding troublesome, Ram welcomed it, her lips loosening — as if the blood and pain were proof that a severed bond had been restored.
"Those born in dark places should return to dark places. If you were born with a cry, then die with a cry."
Gently wiping the blood from her forehead with her palm, Ram's crimson eyes looked down at Batenkaitos.
It was this Archbishop of Gluttony — this creature of Gluttony — whom Ram gazed down upon with eyes as cold as frost.
"The revival of the Oni God. I never liked it, but today, just today, I'll play the part. —The fake of Ram's precious little sister — this time, I'll tear you apart."