—At the hands of
As the bearer of the Divine Protection of Word Spirits, the fight of the man who had most masterfully wielded it in history did exactly as he had declared—it branded Ardebaran's faction as enemies of the world and dealt them considerable suffering.
And that was precisely why the conclusion to his solitary battle was delivered through a ruthless suppression so thorough, so inescapable, and so merciless that it left not the slightest opening for counterattack.
His words sealed. His actions sealed. His trickery sealed. His resourcefulness sealed. Every weapon at his disposal sealed away—and finally, even the "Memory" that made him who he was, Otto Suwen was utterly and completely defeated.
Even the formidable Otto had no means to counter it when Ardebaran's faction committed themselves in earnest, attacking with full force so overwhelming he had no time to devise countermeasures.
Since he could not predict when or where the enemy would strike, forming a trap zone with his signature Divine Protection was out of the question.
Thus, Otto Suwen had no recourse when attacked—and his final gambit was nothing more than a desperate flail prepared for the eventuality of being struck.
All he had done was leave instructions for the Zodda bugs to take flight in unison the moment he was taken down, so that his allies would know the location.
△▼△▼△▼△ "Ardebaran's guy knew about
This was the opinion Imaginary Subaru voiced while they were in the midst of planning the surprise attack.
At the sight of "Subaru" with arms crossed, sitting cross-legged in midair with a grim expression, Petra recalled the loop in his memories where Ardebaran and Rem had intersected—during a lap through the
It was a time when Subaru had committed a tremendous blunder at the castle and was desperately trying to make up for it.
While Petra considered his rampage to be quite awful—though not enough to make her lose faith in him—Subaru himself had it branded in his memory as an embarrassment so mortifying that merely recalling it made him squirm. In truth, everyone present at the time must have frowned at Subaru's rampage, so aside from Petra, only Rem—who had been blindly devoted to him even back then—could have avoided feeling disillusioned.
In any case, while trapped in that loop of negative emotions, Subaru had once sought a way to save
There, Subaru received a reception from Priscilla that was unspeakably cutting, but the crucial connection between Ardebaran and Rem was discovered on the very spot where he was driven from the manor.
The specific reason was unclear, but— "Ardebaran called out
"So Ardebaran knew about the two of them on his own? Because they were rivals in the Royal Selection, he investigated them thoroughly… something like that?"
"Like Ardebaran was the one in charge of that kind of sensible Royal Selection countermeasure in Priscilla's camp? I don't think that's impossible, but it doesn't matter either way. The important thing is that Ardebaran knows Rem. In other words—"
"Just like all of us, when Ardebaran sees Rem, his Memory becomes confused too."
"That's it. —If you want to give it a name, call it Flash Remnade."
Petra gave a thumbs-up to "Subaru," who snapped his fingers with a silent click and winked.
Honestly, she had reservations about treating Rem like a flash grenade, but they had already confirmed through personal experience that there was no counter to this "Memory" reverberation.
The deeper one's bond and personal feelings—as with Subaru or Ram—the greater the impact tended to be, but even the smallest opening was still an opening.
All that remained was to exploit that opening— "Let's show Ardebaran. —Just how angry we are."
△▼△▼△▼△ —Now, let us account for Roy Alphard, the Sin Archbishop of Gluttony.
Roy used the nature of his "Evil Gluttony" and the Authority of "Gluttony," which had birthed countless tragedies, to completely neutralize Otto Suwen, who had been tormenting Ardebaran's faction. His "Eclipse" did not merely neutralize Otto—it chewed through the entirety of his twenty-two years of life, devouring joy and rage and sorrow and everything else all at once in a single gulp from the plate.
Having swallowed and finished a meal with no substance to it, Roy evaluated what he had tasted—Otto Suwen's life, which had overcome a fair share of hardships and experienced its share of joys and sorrows—with greater precision and freshness than decoding the Book of the Dead: two stars, on the heavier side of seasoning.
At the very act of making such a rating, he gave the impression of having inherited the "Gourmet" spirit of Rai Batenkaitos, a brother who had already lost his life, but—setting that aside—consuming one's "Memory" meant that one could learn everything about that being: their way of thinking, their philosophy, and even, in the midst of battle, what schemes they were hatching and what plans they had made.
Therefore, under normal circumstances, even riding the afterglow of victory and sense of achievement from defeating Otto, Roy should have been able to detect the planned ambush that followed with natural ease.
However, that was not what happened. —Because Otto had not shared the specifics of what his comrades would do after he was taken down.
All Otto Suwen had done was believe.
That if he could send the signal for the moment he was taken down, his comrades would not let it go to waste.
Because it was all staked not on strategy or anything of the sort, but simply on an unshakable bond— "—It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Ardebaran."
It was truly something that happened in the span of a blink.
He closed his eyes. Opened them. In that instant, the presence of a blue-haired girl who had thrust herself into the gap caught everyone off guard—Ardebaran, of course, but also Yae, Roy, and even "Ardebaran" himself could not react.
An impossible anomaly had appeared without a trace of presence.
That fact alone was enough to steal a split second from these battle-hardened warriors, but the one for whom it became a fatal wound was Ardebaran—the one whose moment of hesitation could not be confined to just an instant.
A phenomenon that did not occur for Yae, whom she had never met; for Roy, who was outside the range of her Authority; or for "Ardebaran," who shared the Memory but possessed a different soul.
As the blackened "Memory" engraved upon his brain, upon his soul, was stimulated, and with the sensation of something forcibly jammed back in where it had been removed, Ardebaran's consciousness was bleached white.
Whoever had named it—they were right. It was a flash grenade of "Memory."
"—Lord Ardebaran!!"
Called by that high, desperate voice, a hand reaching from beyond his whitened consciousness caught him. But it did not save Ardebaran from his predicament.
The soles of his feet that should have been firmly planted on the ground cut through empty air, and Ardebaran realized his body was spinning helplessly, battered by ferocious winds, all sense of up, down, left, and right lost.
With that uncontrollable body, still gazing up at the brilliant sun floating in the endless blue sky above—his black eyes seared by its radiance—Ardebaran realized once more.
He had been teleported skyward by some means and thrown outside the boundaries of his "Domain."
"—! Domain expansion, matrix redefinition."
Grinding his teeth as he forcibly reset the "Domain" that had been severed.
He had been played by the enemy's scheme and compelled to update his matrix. —He could no longer return to the moment before the ambush.
But had he delayed the decision to update, Ardebaran would have lost utterly.
Ardebaran's Authority was invincible—but only within the established "Domain." If he died outside it, he would be denied the chance to try again, no different from any other life.
Having swallowed down the conditions he had been placed under, Ardebaran's consciousness crystallized on the present reality.
Having been forced to update the matrix, everything that followed from this point onward was, for Ardebaran, at once a treasure and a calamity, a tailwind and a headwind, a good and an evil.
"Sky…!"
The wind roared like a growl, a violent sensation of weightlessness battered his entire body, and though he had no memory of being launched, falling from such a height meant that formal procedures had been… abbreviated.
For an instant, the Authority of the strongest "
—Had the opponent been that "Witch," the phenomenon would have been entirely different. He would not have been tossed into the sky like this, and above all, Ardebaran would have been killed a hundred times over in the span of a blink.
Thus, he eliminated that possibility from among the many worst-case scenarios.
As he reduced the remaining possibilities, he simultaneously began surveying his surroundings.
At the moment, the anomaly closest to Ardebaran as the wind tossed him about was— "—Lord Ardebaran."
Yae's presence, clinging tightly to Ardebaran's single arm as though embracing it.
Just before being thrown into the sky, she had leaped onto Ardebaran while he was rigid from consuming the "Memory" flash grenade—and so she, too, had been flung from the forest into the sky alongside him.
Whether this was fortunate or unfortunate, Ardebaran mentally sorted through what could and could not be done with Yae present, and chose what had to be done first.
That was— "I'll stabilize our posture! Lord Ardebaran, don't let go of me—"
"Piggyback."
It was almost simultaneous—Yae, clinging to him, attempting some measure against their fall, and Ardebaran tearing open a medicine packet in his mouth and swallowing the poison.
He could feel Yae's crimson eyes widen, her startled expression gazing back at him. But what was done was done—he had already downed a lethal dose.
"We'll talk about it later."
Foaming blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, and as he felt it mercilessly stain the inside of his helmet alongside the taste of rusted iron, Ardebaran's consciousness was kneaded by the wind— × × × "—!"
It was something he already knew, but reality greeted him with the continuous roar of wind.
He opened his shut eyelids once more, and there before him was the same loathsome brilliance of the sun—after glaring at it magnificently, Ardebaran took stock of his surroundings, confirming that he was hundreds of meters in the air.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Teleportation. Instant movement. Teleport. —Whatever you called it, the effect was the same. As a spell that acted upon space itself, it fell within the domain of shadow magic—and it was a super-spell requiring every conceivable condition to be met.
If one carefully constructed a spell formula and firmly carved it into one's own field, then a limited warp linking door to door within that space was achievable.
Or, even without prior preparation, if one could visualize the destination coordinates and the caster constructed a formula to send the target through at the cost of exhausting the gate, a one-time, one-way ticket might be possible.
× × × In short, the phenomenon that had launched Ardebaran and the others into the sky was at an impossible level even for magic—meaning some other form of foul play was involved.
He had never heard of a Divine Protection that interfered with others to this degree physically.
Of course, there were those like Reinhard, who could take a Divine Protection that seemed trivial and wield it in extraordinary fashion, forging it into a fearsome instrument of war—but— "—This is different. But if it's an Authority…"
As far as Ardebaran knew, the existing Authorities were held as follows: Wrath, Gluttony, and Lust by the Sin Archbishops; Sloth and Greed by
Setting aside Ardebaran's own Authority—which could be called unlisted, extra, or stolen—the remaining possibilities were "Pride," and then "Frivolity" and "Melancholy."
—Since the last two should have been unusable by anyone, the only remaining possibility was "Pride."
× × × "Has 'Pride' arrived? Appeared? Joined? —No, that doesn't matter."
Whether someone Ardebaran knew had been chosen as "Pride," or someone unknown had joined as "Pride," what he had to consider was the possibility that an Authority holder had become his enemy.
The only beings who could threaten Ardebaran with that unknown quantity, aside from Natsuki Subaru and Reinhard, were undoubtedly the holders of an Authority—destroyers of concepts, permitted to twist the world's rules and trample them at will.
× × × "—Hey, I've calmed down."
As though the roaring wind had asked him if he was done being played by the enemy's scheme and flapping about in a panic, Ardebaran responded.
He had composed himself enough to do so. The sorting of the situation in Ardebaran's mind was complete.
Of course, the reality of being flung into the sky, the anguish of having dragged Yae along as a companion, and the sensation of his consciousness being shoved aside by whitening "Memory" being restored—none of it had changed.
But as long as he didn't truly die, it was cheap. That was Ardebaran's life.
If the sacrifice of a discard could buy breathing room for his head, his body, and his heart, it was a bargain.
"—Lord Ardebaran."
Watching Yae cling to his single arm, her braided hair flapping wildly like the tail of a happy dog, Ardebaran's thoughts advanced to the next phase.
He had to reach the ground while keeping himself and Yae alive.
To do that— "I'll stabilize our posture! Lord Ardebaran, don't let go of me—"
"No, that's my line."
To cut short Yae's determination to act on her own judgment while stranded in midair, Ardebaran forcibly pulled her against his chest and intercepted her.
And having used his right arm for that, he rapidly generated the stone prosthetic arm he had grown accustomed to creating, raised it above his head— In that instant, a tremendous impact hammered down from directly above onto his prosthetic arm, accelerating their descent.
It was a strike from a horrifying, vicious mass of iron that resonated heavily even through the constructed arm.
A threat beyond the sound of chains dancing like writhing snakes, all but drowned out by the howling wind.
Its name was misleading—a spiked iron ball shaped to put people into an eternal sleep— "—Prepare yourself!"
Beyond the iron ball that had been smashed toward him, a blue-haired girl was falling as though carrying the sun on her back.
The one who had severely eroded Ardebaran's advantage and fired the opening shot of the battle—Rem—roared.
Slowly extending from her forehead was a single horn.
The mark of the oni race, and proof that she belonged to one of the warrior species created to sweep the "Witch's" traces from this world.
But beyond that, to Ardebaran, who had recalled her existence, it held yet another meaning.
That was— "The whole story's different starting from the fact that Rem is alive!!"
△▼△▼△▼△ Having launched herself into the sky with full resolve, her maid uniform's hem fluttering, gripping the handle of the morning star tightly in her hands, Rem glared down at Ardebaran and the others below.
—Up to this point, the surprise attack had functioned perfectly, exactly as planned.
They had exposed Rem before Ardebaran, and while he was paralyzed, robbed of his judgment, "Compression" swept him away. This successfully severed Ardebaran from his allies and brought him to a place where his spontaneous movements could be restricted—to the sky, as quickly agreed upon.
As for the crucial timing of the attack, what proved useful was that Otto—while tracking Ardebaran's faction through guerrilla strikes—had prepared only the signal for the moment he was taken down.
That signal was, in other words, synonymous with the moment Ardebaran's faction had defeated their formidable opponent Otto and tension slackened, even if just slightly.
"I have been treated with extraordinary kindness by Lady Priscilla. As one who cherishes Lady Priscilla, I cannot stand by and allow Ardebaran's tyranny to continue."
These were the words Rem had spoken when expressing her own will, at the time objections were raised against her participating in the direct confrontation with Ardebaran.
At the time, it had merely been talk of the resolve that would serve as her foundation—but it was unmistakably Rem's true feeling, and the unwavering core of her motivation for taking on this battle.
Of course, right beside that core was the existence of Subaru, who had been taken captive by Ardebaran.
Perhaps this one was the core instead. —No, Priscilla was a core too, so that made two cores.
She would offer her apologies to Lady
In any case, with that determination, Rem's participation in the direct confrontation unit against Ardebaran was decided.
On a strategic level, no vision of Rem being especially useful on other battlefields had materialized, but beyond the initial "Memory" shake-up, there was ample possibility of Rem being especially effective against Ardebaran.
And that possibility was precisely— "The whole story's different starting from the fact that Rem is alive!!"
The moment she smashed the morning star down from above, Ardebaran blocked the powerful blow with his stone prosthetic arm and, catching sight of Rem, roared at her.
Even as the roaring wind buffeted them, those words had reached her straight and true, and Rem became convinced of what Petra had told her—that Ardebaran's connection to Rem, a connection Rem knew nothing about, had been effective.
"I cannot think of any point of connection between Ardebaran and the mediocre Rem…"
She had confirmed with Ram as well, but apparently even Ram's connection to Ardebaran had been limited to a single exchange of words in the Royal Capital before the Royal Selection had begun in earnest.
Apparently they had not had a conversation substantial enough to remain in memory, and even what they had discussed was vague.
Likely, the connection between the sisters and Ardebaran was one-sided—existing only from his end.
But— "Such words hurt! When we were attacked by
She faltered there, but Rem swallowed her hesitation— "—was it not Lady Priscilla!"
Deliberately invoking Priscilla's name, Rem plotted to unsettle Ardebaran.
Rem loathed herself for having shown the worst kind of cunning she could muster.
However, telling herself this too was necessary to stop Ardebaran's rampage, she hardened both body and heart, sharpening her gaze.
To Rem's provocation, Ardebaran chose not to raise his voice but to seal it in silence.
Within the pitch-black iron helmet, Ardebaran's expression was hidden behind cheek guards, the light in his eyes invisible.
Whether Rem's words just now had given him any pain at all—there was no telling.
"—I'm coming!"
However, Rem did not wait for Ardebaran's response and resumed her assault, giving him no respite.
Rem had already set her priorities.
Compared to Ram, who was brilliant and talented and a cut above every being in this world, Rem was a clumsy, mediocre girl who fell short of everything.
If Rem, who was like that, desired something beyond the ordinary, all she had to do was pursue the best possible path toward it.
For the time being, what Rem excelled at was shutting her eyes to low-priority things for the sake of high-priority ones.
"Hyuma!"
Incantation. With it, mana intervened in the world, and magic activated as an impossible phenomenon.
Unlike Emilia's Hyuma, which manipulated heat and condensed moisture in the air to produce ice, Rem specialized in a type of Hyuma that conjured water from nothingness through magic and output that conjured water as ice from the very start.
Neither type of Hyuma was inherently superior, but Emilia's method—which utilized the existing moisture in the air—had the advantage of requiring less mana, and the ice remained in place after serving its purpose, allowing for reuse.
Rem's method, on the other hand, required more mana since it created water from scratch, and after use the ice often dissipated, returning to mana.
Looking at this explanation alone, Emilia's Hyuma would seem overwhelmingly superior.
However, Rem's Hyuma had its own powerful advantage.
That was the ability to create ice at any location and in any shape one desired, without being subject to the moisture content or quality of the air— "—Haaaaaa!!"
Kicking off the ice platform she had created in midair, Rem charged ferociously at Ardebaran and the others.
If she created a Hyuma with fixed coordinates, an improvised platform that would not break even under Rem's full weight would form. The power of a morning star launched after gaining even a single instant of leverage was incomparable to one swung by twisting the whole body.
The iron ball, spinning with thunderous force as it hurtled toward Ardebaran, held nothing back.
It could easily shatter a human body on direct impact, and eager to repay the care Subaru had lovingly polished into it every day, it closed in on Ardebaran from Rem's hand with joy, closing in, closing in— "I won't let you."
The iron ball infused with love was caught head-on by countless threads at the very instant of impact.
Looking closer, the one who had done it was the crimson ninja cradled in Ardebaran's arm, who had twisted her body around to glare at Rem—the supremely powerful thread user who served at Ardebaran's side.
The ninja, embraced from behind by Ardebaran, had spread the threads released from both outstretched hands into a net, and with it softly, like a cushion, caught the iron ball.
That skill was remarkable in itself, but it was not what Rem focused on most.
From the outset, in this surprise operation to throw Ardebaran into the sky, the plan had been to completely isolate him from his allies.
The very fact that she had intruded upon that was abnormal.
—No, abnormal was the wrong word. Rem knew why she had been able to do it.
Despite Rem's sudden appearance blanketing everyone's consciousness in a void, she had left enough room within that void to reach out, and had actually done so.
What had made her do it— "—That is love!"
"Wrong!!"
"Wrong!!"
To Rem's shout brimming with conviction, Ardebaran and the ninja yelled back almost simultaneously.
In that opening, Rem forcibly pulled back the morning star that had nearly been taken, reclaiming the iron ball from the ninja who refused to have her stance broken. Creating several new platforms for her next attack, she kicked off them and dove, closing in on the two.
But— "It's frightening that you can keep up, but the longer it goes, the shorter you fall, you know?"
Having regained composure from her momentarily stiff expression, the ninja who had flung her threads smiled enchantingly.
The threads released from her hand were heading for the ice platforms Rem had created in midair.
Ardebaran and the others, who had been stranded in the sky with nothing to do but tumble in freefall, intended to use Rem's platforms as a foothold to regain their footing.
From what she could tell, the ninja's skill exceeded Rem's own ability.
If the disadvantage she had imposed on them was compensated for, the power gap that should have been narrowed would be reversed in an instant.
"I know. I'm nothing but shortcomings."
Therefore, Rem would not allow the enemy to compensate for that disadvantage.
"—!"
Hearing Rem's reply—no, the sensation she had briefly grasped vanished like mist, and composure was once again stripped from the ninja's expression.
The ice platforms she had tried to use as footholds had vanished as though they were dreams or illusions.
Of course, they were neither dreams nor illusions. They were mana. Rem had simply returned them to mana at will.
This was the profound difference between Emilia's type—which, once frozen, stayed frozen—and Rem's type, which froze only when desired and was easy to clean up, despite both being Hyuma.
"To put it simply, Rem's approach is more aggressive."
Before Rem's eyes, the ninja lost the target for the power she had been about to unleash and staggered.
Ardebaran, holding the ninja, was nearly dragged off balance as well, but he reinforced his cracked prosthetic arm with additional plating and caught the successive iron balls from Rem—once, twice.
Then— "—Teyaaaa!!"
—Emilia's long leg, hurtling from diagonally below, drove the clawed tip of her ice boot mercilessly into Ardebaran's unprotected back.
△▼△▼△▼△ —The isolation of Ardebaran's faction.
It was a prerequisite that could never be relinquished when confronting a group that rebelled against the world to a degree rivaling—or, at peak moments, surpassing—the Witch Cult.
It could be said that the surprise operation to clear this condition had gone according to plan roughly nine times out of ten.
The one-tenth that had deviated—the uncertain factor of the ninja who had voluntarily chosen to be dragged along—had left a mark on the operation, but excessive worry would be counterproductive.
Each person would fulfill their assigned role to the utmost.
Without that trust and resolve, the plan to stop Ardebaran's faction could not hold.
"—Jeez, everybody's looking at me with such scary, tremble-inducing eyes."
As he spoke, dangling his arms limply and swaying them, the Sin Archbishop of Gluttony, Roy Alphard, surveyed his surroundings with a sadistic grin.
Around him, figures had appeared one after another in the immediate wake of Ardebaran's group being sent flying—as though replacing them, the warriors who had gathered to defeat Ardebaran's faction stood arrayed.
At the sight of eyes that would not yield a single step against a Sin Archbishop, Roy could not help but lick his lips.
"Nice, real nice, maybe even real nice. But hey, with so many of you gathering like this, won't the forces that mean to do something about us get wiped out all at once?"
"—Hah. Why don't you show a little more of that cute, frightened trembling on your end? Unless you want to die the same way as the brother who perished in the Tower of Sand."
"Besides, do you even count magical beasts as targets? If not… I do believe I'm your natural predator."
Among the warriors, a figure hugging her own elbow and another figure stroking her braid responded in turn.
Even at that unmistakable hostility, Roy did not conceal his smile—shivering with the anticipation of a feast.
"You gotta be kidding… can't you see the Divine Dragon right there?! Do you have any idea how badly the Royal Capital was ravaged… there's no chance of winning!"
In contrast to Roy's excitement, the one speaking with a pale face and trembling voice was Heinkel.
True to his words, relying on the Divine Dragon's majesty, he stood right at its feet and desperately raised his voice with a hateful expression against the hostility that looked down upon them.
His appearance was nothing if not that of a "person borrowing the dragon's authority," but in fact, Heinkel's claim was not wrong. If they faced the absolutely powerful Divine Dragon without a plan, what awaited them was merciless devastation and an end.
"However, that is only if they come without a plan."
"—! Old giant."
That old giant knew of the Sub-human War.
To those who bore hostility, mercy would not be granted twice. —Return
With Heinkel, whose breath was caught and whose eyes darted about, facing him head-on, the great figure stroked his bald head and declared.
Heinkel's cheeks stiffened at the giant's declaration, but there was another shadow that stirred.
It was none other than the "Dragon" itself—the very one that had been brought up.
"Don't get me wrong, but… getting beaten up like this, it's got me shaken. I'm really feeling what it means to make the world your enemy right about now."
The "Dragon," wielding that imposing presence, scratched its head in an extraordinarily human-like gesture.
While projecting a presence so overwhelming that many who lived in the Dragon
At least, to the eyes of those who knew the true Divine Dragon, the discrepancy was plain.
"Of course, unlike you dignitaries of the Kingdom, I'm not going to panic because the image of the Divine Dragon is shattered or its brand value drops or anything like that. —It's just, how about the gentleman next to me? Might he have all sorts of thoughts about it?"
"No, Master, there is no need to concern yourself—an unnecessary worry. It would be laughable for me to go on about a past I have already shed. How weak."
Looking down upon those who showed no fear before the dragon shell that neither matched his stature nor his heart, "Ardebaran" narrowed his golden eyes.
He focused his consciousness on the small shadow slowly advancing from among those who had blocked their path.
Naturally, Roy and Heinkel also turned their attention to that figure.
He did not understand how she had come to stand in such a position, but it was inexplicably clear.
—That she was the representative of the will of this place.
Drawing all eyes upon herself, she—Petra Reite—pointed a finger to the heavens and declared.
"—This is an all-out war. Be good and lose, and lose badly, all right?"