"——
"...What if the Demon City isn't enough?"
"Then the 'Great Calamity,' which nothing can stop, will swallow the entire Empire. Or perhaps spread its destruction even further, beyond the Empire's borders. All of it, originating here in the Demon City."
"————"
"————"
"Yorna will not consent to letting this city go."
"The situation does not permit sentimentality. Whether she wishes it or not, the city's abandonment will proceed. That said, convincing her is beyond my purview."
"You believe you can convince Yorna?"
"If I can't, everything turns to ash. If it must be done, then I'll do it. He is that kind of man — the kind who has always lived that way through to the end."
"...I don't understand. If you know that much and are so certain, then what exactly do you want from me?"
"You should already understand my intentions. Especially you, young as you are, holding a position of trust in this Demon City's ruling circle."
"————"
"If the 'Great Calamity' is to be destroyed, Yorna Mishigure will suffer an enormous backlash. Pitting the still-immature 'Great Calamity' against the Demon City — and if that still isn't enough——"
"——Then I will."
"————"
"For the sake of Lady Yorna — that woman who is a greater, more loving mother than anyone — I will sacrifice myself for the love I so deeply cherish."
"...Noble, indeed."
"I need no comfort or words of praise. —Only Lady Yorna's tears."
△▼△▼△▼△ "——Stop this!!"
Leaning forward, kicking off the ground with nimble steps, Tanza's right eye burns red, and her small frame brims with a power that puts even armored imperial soldiers to shame.
She isn't particularly skilled in combat, nor gifted in magic or martial arts.
But no one can stop her now.
Because she knew — more than anyone else, she was loved by Yorna.
She had stood by Yorna's side, been cherished, been spoken to with gentle words, had helped, had thought of her, had prayed for her.
To love Yorna, and to be loved by Yorna — that was the quality needed to receive the greatest blessing of the Soul Marriage Art. But there was no calculation in Tanza's love for Yorna.
Some know-it-all might say that love asks nothing in return.
But Tanza thought this: the feeling of loving someone is itself the reward.
The warmth of your chest fluttering as you think of them — that is love's return.
If so, then Tanza had to repay that return with every fiber of her tiny body.
That was — "The reason I was given this life."
The first time Tanza had been granted an audience with Yorna, she had been chased from somewhere else — far too young. She could only hide behind her kind sister's back and gaze up at Yorna's dignified bearing.
All that had been promised was that, for the first time in her life, she could live days free of anyone's threats. She had believed in that promise and let her thoughts wander to the days spent with her sister.
The second time she met Yorna, after her kind sister had been stolen away by wretched things, Tanza in her despair had bitten into Yorna — and Yorna had not rebuked her for it.
Rather, Yorna had listened earnestly to Tanza's pleas, even lending a hand in bringing retribution upon those who had taken her sister. —And as a result, had been branded a traitor.
How could she not love her?
When the one before her had already poured out such love, had been so gentle and kind.
That woman who had wept at her sister's deathbed, who had mourned the promise she couldn't keep, who had apologized to Tanza.
——How could she not love her?
"————"
Before her eyes, she could sense the black, revolting dregs coalescing beyond the column of smoke.
Having been struck with the city Yorna loved — and still refusing to shatter, that tenacious will. A darkness so foul that anyone would want to avert their eyes, yet Tanza did not flinch.
If the reason to flinch was fear, then what ruled Tanza's heart was not that.
And so, Tanza launched herself forward over the rubble, charging straight toward the flickering Great Calamity.
To look back would be to cling. She knew it would become a curse.
But — "Tanza—!"
She heard it — the voice of the one she loved, calling her name.
Yorna lay collapsed on the ground, reaching out. An arrow, pitifully, had pierced through her foot, and Tanza understood that someone far away had drawn a bow to make it so.
Without that arrow, Yorna would have rushed to the Great Calamity — to Tanza.
For that alone, Tanza felt grateful to the archer. It had let her steel her resolve.
And then — "——Lady Yorna."
Her lips moved.
Whether the words that followed became sound, whether they reached Yorna, she didn't know.
But just as she prayed every night before sleep, every morning upon waking, every spare moment she had — she prayed in that instant as well.
——May the days of the one I cherish be filled with health and peace.
△▼△▼△▼△ The light blew everything away and burned every eye white.
As the light faded and the scorched eyes gradually regained their sight, the people beheld the Demon City's fate.
"————"
The epicenter had collapsed inward, gouged out in a perfect circle. Where the Crimson Spirit Palace had once stood at the Demon City's heart, a colossal hole now gaped wide open.
That enormous void, as if dug out by a giant's arm, was the irrefutable trace of a terrible existence that had swallowed the entirety of the Demon City.
And the calamity they had fought with everything they had — the full might of their forces — had vanished without a trace.
That was the result of the trump card played by Yorna Mishigure, the Demon City's mistress, and everyone who had participated in the battle knew that the one who had delivered the final push was a young girl who had given her life.
In other words — "——We were saved by that girl. I am inadequate."
Peering down into the bottom of the great hole, the man extending his thorns of briar —
They were undoubtedly sincere, from the bottom of his heart. As a warrior of the horn and a man who believed in the Empire's philosophy, this earnest young man was reprimanding himself for having relied on others to cover his own inadequacy.
All the more so when a young girl's life had been spent to accomplish it.
"In principle, I am your enemy. Now that the situation has settled, I believe the ceasefire should end here and we should face that fact directly, but..."
"...Then you'll fight us?"
"——I'll refrain."
Turning his back to the great hole, Kafma shook his head at the question.
Facing him was Medium, with a barbarian sword far too large for her small frame strapped to her back. Despite the tattered, mud-caked state of the girl, her question shone bright even amid the devastation.
Kafma believed that brightness would be necessary for managing the situation going forward.
After all, the Demon City Chaos Frame had collapsed, and not a single intact building remained. From here, the struggle to survive would begin for those who had made it through.
Naturally, dealing with those refugees — and with Yorna Mishigure, who would surely lead them — was Kafma's duty as a "General" of the Empire.
"This time, I came as escort for a personage of the highest dignity. I must prioritize rendezvousing with them above all else. Everything else is, for the moment, trivial."
"Trivial? Trivial — you mean like, an afterthought? I think that's a terrible way to put it!"
"N-No, that's not what I meant..."
Kafma flinched slightly at Medium's fierce rebuke, which accused him of being insensitive. But before that intensity could build further, a languid voice came to his rescue — addressing him as "Medium-chan."
Looking over, it was a single-armed figure ambling toward them — "That's just that big brother's way of being considerate, y'know? He's saying there are more important things to deal with, so he won't cross swords with us. That this should be enough to smooth things over for now, right?"
"...I have nothing to add. How you judge this is up to you."
"Sure, sure. You find them everywhere, don't you — guys like you, big brother, always beating around the bush."
Shrugging with an exasperated air, the one-armed man — Al — stepped up alongside Medium. Medium looked up at him, eyes going wide with an "Oh!"
Then, pointing at her own face, she said: "Al, did you actually find a helmet?"
"Yeah, somehow or other. It was lying around near the inn — luck amid misfortune. Not that I didn't already know the thing was indestructible, so long as I found it."
"...Indestructible?"
"That's right, indestructible. No one in this world can break it."
As he spoke, Al tapped the jet-black helm atop his head with a finger. Medium nodded with an impressed "Huh~," but Kafma fixed Al with a sharp, unwavering stare.
Noticing that gaze, Al tilted his head.
"You're saying you don't want to fight us, right? Same goes for our side... honestly, we're way too spent to even think about it."
"That last battle — your coordination was remarkable. How did you predict the 'Great Calamity's' movements?"
"Trade secret. Tell you that, and the ceasefire's off?"
"——No. I won't retract what I said."
Shaking his head, Kafma answered with characteristic earnestness. Then he swept aside his tattered cloak and turned his back to both Al and Medium.
He headed, as he'd said himself, toward the personage of the highest dignity.
"Circumstances led us to cooperate this time. But you and I remain enemies... unless one of us changes our mind, we will meet again on the battlefield. When that happens, I will not hold back."
"Didn't need you to tell us..."
"We feel the same way! ...And thanks for helping us out."
"As a General of the Empire, I merely did what was expected."
With those parting words, Kafma spread transparent wings from his broad back and, beating them with a great sound, took off into the sky in an instant.
The wind kicked up swirling clouds of dust as Medium and Al watched his retreating figure. Once Kafma had disappeared from sight — "...Al, good work. Really, thank you. I'm saved."
"Right back at you. If you hadn't held your own, Medium-chan, that big thing's attacks would've been way more lopsided. More people would've died."
"More people... died..."
Hearing Al's words, Medium gently lowered her gaze.
Al, watching the pained expression on her downturned face, fidgeted with the seam of his helmet and said: "I know it doesn't make sense, and it's not much consolation... but if that kid Tanza hadn't done what she did, we'd all be dead. For sure."
"I could've... tried harder, maybe."
"No, that road wasn't there. —I tried every which way, and it didn't work."
Al's dejected words were truly incomprehensible to Medium. But if she said they weren't comforting at all, that would be a lie.
She understood the feeling behind them — that Al had said it for her sake, trying to comfort her. And so, it really did serve as comfort.
"Thanks, Al."
"...You're welcome."
Al's repeated words, once again, made no sense to Medium.
△▼△▼△▼△ "Have you surveyed approximately what needs to be done, Yorna Mishigure?"
"...Is that you, Master?"
A mountain of rubble, the wreckage of buildings, and a fathomless hole torn open by the aftershocks of battle.
From a high vantage point where the full panorama of devastation was visible — the scars left by the Demon City Chaos Frame's all-out war to destroy the Great Calamity — a man appeared before Yorna, who stood there.
He wore a demon's mask to hide his face, and queried her feelings in a voice devoid of even the faintest trace of emotion — Abel.
Abel, making his way slowly through the rubble, gazed out upon the same scene as Yorna, yet let not a shred of feeling color his voice: "What I can offer is as stated in the formal letter. I await your answer."
"Is that truly the first thing out of your mouth upon witnessing this devastation?"
"Shall I offer comfort as a shelter and sympathy as a place to rest? You and I are both people who were born into a particular mold and chose what must be done. One second of ours is not equivalent to one second of anyone else's."
"————"
She didn't want comfort or sympathy. This man was the kind who had chosen that way of living.
Yorna knew that much, so she forced herself to suppress her resentment at his attitude. More than anything, taking an emotional stand against him here would gain her nothing.
"I've already lost too much today."
"The city, the people — time and reprieve fall under that same umbrella, I imagine."
"...Tanza."
"————"
"The one who threw herself away at the end to save us all... her name was Tanza."
As she spoke, Yorna drew the clasp from her kimono's obi and showed it to Abel.
Abel studied the smoothly polished ornament in silence, his gaze a question. Yorna's eyes softened ever so slightly at the corners.
"It was carved from the horn of her sister — the clasp her sister made for me when we laid her remains to rest... And there are more besides."
"————"
"This hairpin, this kanzashi — all are offerings from the children I love. Those children who had been driven from their homes with nothing to their name, who carved away pieces of themselves to repay my kindness."
Colorful ornaments, hairpins and kanzashi — all of them were tributes from the Demon City's inhabitants.
Some had shaved their scales, some had gathered their feathers, some had polished their horns and fangs, and presented them to Yorna — giving shape to their gratitude and the way they chose to live.
To Yorna, these were more precious than any gemstone or treasure. Having received such things, she had felt compelled to answer their love.
And that — "I cannot afford to break any more promises..."
"——Before long, Vincent Volakia and his entourage, who departed this city, will make their move. Under these circumstances, they wouldn't act here — but that too is only a matter of time. There is no room to delay."
"What will become of my children? Where will they go?"
"For the time being, a fortified city will have to serve as a base. Along the way, we'll absorb other towns under our banner. With you and the Demon City's people, it's possible."
With the Demon City's functions lost, a refuge was needed for the displaced inhabitants.
Abel's proposal was heavy-handed, an unreasonable imposition on others. But Yorna had her own hierarchy of priorities. Saving those she loved came first.
As for the rest — "Was it true — what you said in the letter? That you're prepared to grant my wish?"
"I have no intention of saying it twice. But think carefully."
"Think...?"
"Which you will prioritize — your long-held wish, or your precious 'love.'"
Abel's words, devoid of visible emotion — whether this advice issued from favor or disfavor, Yorna could not read.
But his words pierced her heart. Yorna drew a pipe from her obi, forcibly straightened its bent tip with her fingers, lit it, and let purple smoke drift upward.
Below, her beloved children moved through the ruined city, gathering what remained of their belongings and the materials that had sustained their lives, preparing for what lay ahead.
Whether she could shelter them tomorrow and light a path beyond — that depended on Yorna.
She would side with Abel, drag the one called Vincent Volakia — no, the counterfeit who masqueraded as him — from the throne, and compel the fulfillment of the formal letter's promise.
And the content of that promise was — "——A child wouldn't outlive her parent now, would she, Tanza?"
With those words — her acceptance of the fate she had chosen for herself — the purple smoke dissolved into the wind and vanished.
△▼△▼△▼△ As the purple smoke drifted off into the distance, Abel descended from the hilltop to be received by Taritta.
The demon-masked man noted Taritta's rigid stance with a slight flare of the nostrils.
"If you're worried about the foot I shot, that's unfounded. The wound has already begun healing. By tomorrow it will be back to normal."
"...That is good. But that was not my concern."
"Oh?"
As Abel said, Yorna's figure standing atop the hill showed no sign of difficulty. Her kimono and hair were disheveled, and exhaustion clung to her posture, but her right foot — the one pierced by the arrow — appeared unimpeded.
That itself might have been the benefit of whatever secret art she wielded. But for Yorna, the consequences of that wound weighed heavier than the wound itself.
Naturally, Taritta understood that weight all too well.
"————"
In that final moment, Taritta — given the choice — had entrusted her decision to an arrow.
Following the destiny left behind by Maliuli as the Star Reader, Taritta should have shot Abel through the heart with that arrow. What chain of causation would have followed to subdue the Great Calamity, she couldn't begin to imagine, but it was undeniably one of the stronger possibilities among her options.
However, doing so meant obeying the star that had transformed the person she cherished most, Maliuli, into something unknowable. It was a decision that cut to the very core.
——In the end, what had tipped the scales for Taritta was precisely that single point.
Taritta hated the star that had changed Maliuli. And so, she had refused to obey it.
For Taritta, who found comfort in being told what to do, being given a path, being led — destiny might well have been the most compatible partner imaginable.
But Taritta and the star had met on the wrong foot.
If the star had spoken to Taritta from the beginning, instead of to Maliuli — Taritta might have lived for the star. But that was not how it had happened.
And so — "——In that instant, I pushed forward the back of that deer-child girl as she ran without hesitation."
As a result, the girl had somehow produced a light from within that destroyed the Great Calamity from the inside.
In exchange, the girl's life was extinguished, and considerable devastation obliterated the land where the Demon City had stood. But could she not say — that she had protected what she wanted to protect?
"For all that, your expression is far from bright."
"...Was I wrong? To not follow destiny, to not shoot you?"
"The one who wasn't shot isn't going to say you should have shot me. Whether your decision was right or wrong lies beyond my horizon to pronounce. A cliché, perhaps, but the correctness of one's own choice can only be proven by the actions that follow."
"...Those don't sound like your words."
"No, I suppose they don't. 'Iris and the King of Thorns'... a classical quotation."
Having said something Taritta couldn't follow, Abel shook his head — "You don't need to understand."
He then looked Taritta over from head to toe.
"There are still lingering doubts, but you seem to have cut through them somewhat. What will you do going forward?"
"I'm not entirely clear. I want to return to that city and speak with my sisters and kin. And also... with the daughter of my soul-sister, if she still lives."
"A soul-sister, and a destiny entrusted to her... That lends credence to your explanation that you yourself are not the Star Reader. The more I learn, the more detestable those things become."
"Detestable..."
"Not you. I understand your intentions well enough, for the most part."
Abel responded with a sour tone to Taritta's mutter, then turned his gaze in a slow circle.
A great number of people had flooded into the devastated streets, salvaging undamaged belongings and whatever usable materials they could find, commencing the work of survival.
Taritta sincerely admired the resilience of the Demon City's people.
If she recalled how the Demon City had come into being, they had surely been persecuted, oppressed, and grown accustomed to loss. Even factoring that in, their fortitude was remarkable.
However — "You intend to drag them into your war?"
"I do."
At the curt, definitive answer, Taritta couldn't help but let out a wry breath.
Without a trace of hesitation, Abel surveyed the people laboring on the ravaged land, then turned on his heel to continue toward the Chaos Frame — pursuing the purpose he had held from the very beginning.
At that moment — "——Abel's idea is one thing, but will everyone around him just quietly go along with it? Even that fox-eared lady — she'd be reluctant to side with us on an emotional level, wouldn't she?"
The voice belonged to Al, who had joined Abel and Taritta with a reasonable point.
He'd been absent for a while, but now he wore his familiar helm again and walked over with his usual languid gait. Beyond his imposing size, he seemed to have recovered.
Beside Al was Medium, her round blue eyes fixed on Abel.
"I feel the same as Al. It'd make me happy if Yorna-chan became our ally, but with what happened to Tanza-chan and the city..."
"You think Yorna Mishigure would follow the side that brought the very source of that catastrophe along? That's letting sentiment cloud your thinking. She has already made up her mind."
"Really? You're not just saying something awful again, Abel?"
"I speak whatever words are necessary, regardless of cruelty. My intentions are clear."
Medium puffed out her cheeks at Abel's unyielding stance.
In truth, from what Taritta's ears had caught, Abel's exchange with Yorna had been devoid of emotion — but calling it warm, reasonable, or considerate was a stretch by any measure.
Still, the reason Abel showed no doubt about Yorna's decision was — "Because he's prepared to exploit Yorna-chan's weakness... In the end, same as us — without walking that same path, there's no way to protect people who have nowhere to go, right?"
"That's...! You're being awful again, Abel!"
"Is there another option? The only alternative is to cling to pointless pride and die like dogs in a gutter."
"Even if there's no other path, there are other ways to say it! Why can't you understand that?"
As Medium raised her voice and pressed in, Abel turned his cold gaze through the demon mask.
Taritta was concerned whether Abel would dismiss Medium's appeal with the same ruthlessness, though her own sympathies lay with Medium.
But so long as she abided by the covenant between the former Emperor and the Shudrak, Taritta had no option to abandon Abel and sever ties.
Emotional allies meant nothing on a practical battlefield.
"Medium-chan's anger is entirely justified. That said, Abel's approach of using whatever works isn't something I personally hate. If Yorna-chan is joining our side for practical gain, I've no objection."
"I've got nothing but objections! And you, Al — I hate you too!"
"I feel the sting of Medium-chan's hatred, but... As for the rest—"
Al cut himself off, raising a hand to rein in Medium's glare as he shifted his gaze toward the great hole at the center of the ruins.
The others followed his look.
"Let's talk about our own people. —About our brothers."
"————"
The topic Al broached drew the air taut and dry.
It was something everyone knew they had to address, yet no one had any idea how to broach.
After all — "Subaru-chan... where did he run off to?"
Medium's gloomy murmur spoke to the smaller-scale losses wrought by the Great Calamity.
Compared to the complete erasure of a great imperial city and the lives of two Emperors endangered, it might seem like a trivial loss.
But for the group that had journeyed to the Demon City, it was damage that could not be overlooked.
"Yorna-chan said shadows came pouring out of Subaru-chan in a huge gush."
"Old man Olbart said the same. Said the guy was grinning like an idiot even though his right hand was gone. Coming from a guy with a long history of being one-armed, that's pretty hard to believe."
"The old man's attitude? Or his account?"
"As much as I hate to admit it — the attitude. What he said is probably true."
Al clicked his tongue and said he trusted Olbart's testimony.
Taritta also had no favorable impression of the strange old man, but there was no reason for him to lie. Since his account aligned with Yorna's, it was almost certainly the truth.
A thought flitted through Taritta's mind — Maliuli's dying words about a "black-haired, black-eyed traveler."
When she had first spotted Subaru in the forest and targeted his life, she'd had no doubts. Afterward, upon learning of Abel's imprisonment in the settlement and the truth of his identity, she had been convinced she had misjudged her target. But — "If..."
What if the one Maliuli — the Star Reader — had foreseen as the bearer of the "Great Calamity" was not Abel, but Subaru?
Could that be why the Great Calamity had erupted outward, centered on Subaru?
That suspicion gnawed at Taritta without respite.
"There's one matter on which we need to reach a consensus."
Setting aside Taritta's anguish, Abel raised a finger at the center of the group.
Drawing everyone's attention, Abel looked each of them — Medium, Al, and Taritta — in turn.
"By the sound of it, none of you doubt the survival of...
"——Of course Subaru-chan isn't dead! Don't even say that!"
"Don't give me 'I don't want to think about it.' Whether you find it acceptable or not, things happen as they are meant to. The life and death of others falls on that same line."
"Abel, you—"
Abel's detached manner of speaking clashed head-on with Medium's emotional plea.
Taritta's sympathies were with Medium here too. But she had not been harboring hope that Subaru, who had been at the epicenter of the disaster, could have survived.
She was accustomed to a life of hunting, where life and death were ever-present.
The Shudrak were brave warriors, but even everyday hunting was a matter of life and death. Sometimes a beast's desperate counterattack claimed a comrade's life.
People die. Easily. Whether it's someone dear or someone incidental, the fact is the same.
"I'm sorry, but Subaru..."
"Brother's alive."
"——Al!"
Taritta shook her head, about to express her condolences. But Al's confident declaration cut her off, and Medium's face instantly brightened.
Naturally, Abel regarded Al with what could only be called displeasure.
"Fool, what makes you so certain of his survival?"
"Simple and clear — that's just the kind of guy Natsuki Subaru is. More precisely—"
"Precisely?"
"The world hasn't ended. That's my proof."
The reasoning Al laid out as proof was incomprehensible to Taritta. Medium apparently felt the same, tilting her head in confusion.
Abel dismissed it in a single breath — "Don't be ridiculous."
"I have no time to entertain your ravings. If you want to play the fool, do it in front of Priscilla."
"I'd love nothing more, but the princess isn't here, so can't be helped. And since it can't be helped, there's something I want to ask Abel too."
"What?"
"What do you think? That brother's dead?"
Al touched the chin of his helmet and pressed Abel for his take. His own position, of course, was already decided. He'd started the argument in a tone that questioned whether believing Subaru was alive was sane at all.
Naturally, Abel would not believe that Subaru, who had been inside the Great Calamity, had survived — "——Since that was not the 'Great Calamity,' it surely still has a role to fulfill. If it possesses the capacity for that, then declaring it dead would be premature."
"...Eh?"
"Abel!?"
But what Abel actually said was the exact opposite of what Taritta had predicted.
Taritta was struck speechless, and even Medium — who should have been delighted by the answer — stared wide-eyed.
Abel, however, did not respond to their stares. He simply turned and began walking away at an unhurried pace.
Exchanging glances, Taritta and Medium followed. Al, scratching his head, trailed after the three.
"Abel! What do you mean — explain!"
"What explanation is needed?"
"All of it! Because just a moment ago you were talking like Subaru-chan was dead!"
"I merely said that if you believe he survived, you should present an argument beyond emotional conjecture. I believe there is a reason for his survival. Therefore I believe he survived. That is all."
"~ ~ ~!"
Abel's answer, devoid of any warmth, turned Medium's face red with frustration. Of course, it had zero effect on Abel, who didn't even glance back.
And so, with three followers in tow, Abel's feet finally came to a halt after some distance. It was the site of the Demon City's remains — directly before the great hole the obliterated Great Calamity had opened.
There — "Uuauh..."
A small girl sat crouched at the lip of the hole, head hanging low — Rui.
Her white clothes were thoroughly caked in mud. She scraped at the earth feebly with her bare hands, which were filthy with dirt and also stained red from bleeding, split nails.
"Rui-chan...!"
Medium hurried to the girl and embraced her from behind. Even in Medium's arms, Rui did not stop.
Clawing at the ground, pushing aside rubble — the girl was searching for something ceaselessly. No, not "something."
"You're looking for Subaru, aren't you."
"Good or bad, that's what it is... Tch, I don't like this."
Watching Rui's small back, Taritta and Al each exhaled their thoughts.
Without Taritta's knowledge, Al's attitude toward Rui had grown notably thorny. But it had been Al who shielded Rui from the final shockwave that blew away the Great Calamity, so the nature of their dynamic was something Taritta couldn't quite parse.
Pressing further now would probably make no one happy. She had a vague sense of that, so Taritta let it lie.
"Just stop. Digging through the earth and overturning rubble won't find what you're looking for."
"Uuu... auuh!"
Medium held Rui as Abel stood behind her. Rui turned to look up at the demon mask peering down at her, and her face twisted into an expression caught between rage and sorrow.
It looked as if she were blaming Abel — and also pleading with him not to stop her.
Abel would disregard the former and ignore the latter either way. He jerked his chin toward the great hole.
"Finding that one will be no simple task. At the very least, you won't dig him up by scraping dirt with your bare hands. —For that matter, you don't even know where he was blown to."
"Auuh! Auuh! Uuauh—auh!"
"Rummaging about like a fool with one trick won't lead you to him. Temper your expectations."
"Uu! Uuuh!"
At Abel's cold words, Rui's face flushed scarlet and she opened her mouth in fierce protest.
From her intensity and fury, it was clear she had absolutely no intention of giving up the search — she would find him, no matter what.
And then — "Abel, is there a way to find Subaru-chan?"
"Uuh? Uuh?"
"The way you said it just now — you made it sound like Rui-chan alone can't find him. Did you maybe think of a better way?"
As Medium embraced the straining Rui, she looked into Abel's eyes. Rui's struggling subsided at Medium's words, and Abel closed one eye.
"Dull intuition, but sharp instincts, eh. You're the spitting image of that brother."
"Well, we're siblings, so that's only natural! But more important — answer me! Is there a way to find Subaru-chan? Is there? Is there?!"
Hope swelling, Medium repeated the same question. Abel sighed at her forward manner, paused a beat, and then: "It's not exactly a gentle method. The original purpose was not to locate the one who disappeared, but to secure a pretext for confrontation with the Imperial Capital."
"Make it easier to understand!"
"...If the plan goes well, your wish and this girl's may both be granted. After all, it will set the entire Empire searching for him."
"The entire Empire... searching for Subaru?"
Taritta caught the part of Abel's words that concerned her and furrowed her brows.
Like Medium, Taritta was not the sharpest at reading between the lines. The difference was that Medium could shout about what she didn't understand, while Taritta kept it inside.
In any case, Abel's explanation — offered in what he considered plain terms — still didn't bridge the gap for Taritta, whose lack of background knowledge kept her from comprehension.
But — "——Uuauh, auh auh?"
The intent behind his words did reach the one person who needed to hear it.
Rui, who had been about to thrash free, went limp in Medium's arms. She stared at Abel, wordlessly asking a question.
Abel — who surely could not have understood its precise meaning — nodded nonetheless.
"So what's the plan? How do we make it happen — this scheme to find brother?"
"It's not complicated. We simply spread the word."
"————"
At Al's question, Abel answered. Medium immediately shot him a sharp glare. Abel, as if anticipating it, sighed and continued.
It was this: "——Vincent Volakia's bastard heir — a black-haired, black-eyed abomination — is after the throne. It would be nothing less than a reenactment of the 'Magritta Guillotine.'"
△▼△▼△▼△ ——That same day, at that same hour, in a certain place.
"——!"
With a desperate, soggy heave, the body forced itself upward, fingers just barely catching hold of solid ground. If that grip slipped once, there would be no coming back.
It was, quite literally, a struggle not to die — no, a struggle to live.
The pitch-black water, an inescapable expanse, stripped away body heat and stamina at a terrifying rate. Time and again, the sensation of drawing one's last breath. Whether it was dream or reality could no longer be distinguished.
Over and over, it felt as though massive fish-shapes had latched on. Lungs choked with bitter water, the taste of blood filling the mouth as death by drowning seemed certain. The loss of warmth and strength could have brought unconsciousness, and life could have ended like sleep — perhaps it had.
Through repetition, through layering, through twisting — and then, finally — "Ah, bfuah...!"
Spitting out swallowed water, the body wrenched itself onto the shore. Painful, exhausting, heavy. If both hands could have been used, it would have been so much easier — that much was felt from the depths of the soul. But that was impossible.
In the left arm — opposite the right hand that clung to shore — was something that could never, under any circumstances, be let go.
Before understanding what that something was, there had been several failures. It had slipped away.
But once the meaning of what was held was understood, letting go became absolutely impossible. And so, over and over, through failure after failure, the refusal to give up had prevailed — "————"
The thing cradled in the left arm was pushed onto shore before the body that held it.
It was small in size, yet still heavy. That the body was not at full capacity, and that both were dressed in attire entirely unsuited for swimming — that was the misfortune.
Her clothing in particular — a kimono — carried far more fabric than ordinary garments. More fabric meant more water absorbed.
Removing parts of the kimono halfway through to lighten the load would have to be forgiven.
Then too, when she had been gathered close, the sides and neck had been sharply raked. The cause was the fine set of deer antlers atop her head. —Let that pain be considered even.
As for the rest — "Ugh, guh...!"
Pushing the girl onto shore, all that remained was to summon the last dregs of strength and climb up as well.
But having placed her on land, the thread of tension snapped. The last reserves of strength simply weren't there, and both hands scraped uselessly at dry earth.
This won't do, the dizzying head and unceasing ringing in the ears insisted.
It was the prelude to losing consciousness. And losing consciousness here meant death.
Once tension broke, once the will to see this through at all costs was severed — the cycle of dream and reality that had been overcome to reach this shore would resume.
That was the one thing that could not be allowed. And the harder one struggled to right consciousness — Consciousness whitened, and the hands gripping the shore began to slip — "——Oh, careful."
In that instant, a hand seized the one that was about to leave the shore and plunge back into the water.
Thin fingers clamped tight around the wrist, hauling the sinking body toward land. The face broke the surface, gasping for air at the last extremity of awareness, and the fading gaze sought the face of whoever had grabbed hold.
Who had seized this arm? But — "Oh no, no — let's stop. You're about to pass out, aren't you? That won't do at all. If we're going to do this, I'd rather begin with more... dramatic flair."
Incredibly, the hand opposite the one gripping theirs was reaching over to cover the eyes that had tried to look up. The only thing visible was the texture of a stranger's palm.
A palm with an absurdly long life line — from a stranger.
That was the last thing seen before consciousness drifted away.
"What a swim, though! What extraordinary luck that I happened to be strolling by here, blown in by the wind! No, no, no, no — this is wonderful!"
Even as consciousness faded, that lively voice — like thunder reveling in itself — trailed after all the way to the end.
"——Doesn't it feel like the beginning of a truly grand story?"
The question, to which no answer was possible, went unanswered as the consciousness of Natsuki Subaru — slipped away.