It happened in an instant.
Calman had been on guard. There was no way he'd let his attention slip.
And yet— "The crime of marring this face bestowed upon me by Lord Rimuru—you will pay for it."
The cold voice reached him at the same moment that the target—all five of his enhanced armament units should have been tracking her—vanished.
"What!?"
He hurriedly checked his sensors, but
"—!!"
A soundless scream tore through the air as one of his comrades collapsed.
It was an unbelievable sight.
But in the next instant, Calman would find himself questioning everything he thought he knew.
Space rippled, and from within it, Beretta appeared.
Directly ahead of her stood one of his comrades— "Jog, behind you!!"
"Eh?"
Calman's cry never reached him.
Faster than sound, Beretta's slender arm pierced through Jog and tore his enhanced armament apart.
Multiple tentacles dragged Jog out, and the now-masterless enhanced armament crumbled to the ground.
What had happened to the first comrade?
The answer was now being demonstrated right before his eyes.
"I-Impossible..."
"What the hell is she—two of us taken down in an instant..."
The words the remaining two murmured in disbelief were the same thoughts running through Calman's mind.
But what separated Calman from his subordinates was that he wasn't merely stunned—he was already running through countermeasures.
(How did she just move? It looked like space itself distorted, but don't tell me—spatial transmission!?)
If it were super-speed movement, there should have been a shockwave. But there was no trace of one.
Moving faster than sound without affecting the atmosphere—Calman had never even heard rumors of such technology.
If anything existed like that—it wouldn't be movement, but transmission.
Calman's reasoning was remarkably close to the truth.
Beretta had used the Spatial Manipulation of her Ultimate Gift, "King of Automatons," to swap her own position with that directly behind her enemy.
It was limited to spaces within Beretta's awareness, but as a phenomenon, it was no different from spatial transmission.
"Whoa!? Stop—stop her!!"
The third comrade was seized by Beretta.
Seeing this, Calman moved.
"You son of a bitch—don't look down on me!!"
Having prepared it the moment the second comrade fell, he leveled the neutron convergence cannon and fired without hesitation.
It would likely catch his comrade in the crossfire, but he judged it unavoidable if he was to bring down the monster that was Beretta.
The neutron beam gathered into a mass and hurtled toward Beretta at sub-light speed.
On impact, it would deliver tremendous kinetic energy, triggering a reaction that would convert the target's material into superheated plasma.
—Or so it should have.
"I-Impossible... That's absurd—!!!"
Before Calman's eyes, an impossible phenomenon was unfolding.
The neutron beam deflected just before reaching Beretta and vanished into the sky.
Calman's mechanical field of vision clearly showed the residual afterglow—neutron particles reacting with atmospheric nuclei, transforming into plasma as they dissipated into the heavens.
Every data point confirmed this was no observation error.
Beretta stood there, completely undefended.
But it wasn't as though she'd done nothing.
Crack, crunch, squelch—those unsettling sounds emanated from the tips of Beretta's tentacles as they methodically dismantled the enhanced armament she'd stripped off earlier.
That dispassionate, almost leisurely work spoke of a deep fury, sending an unfathomable dread through Calman.
"Y-You... What did you just do?"
Unable to endure the eerie sight, Calman couldn't help but ask.
He hadn't expected an answer, but surprisingly, one came.
"Simple. I analyzed the nature of that attack and dealt with it. A weapon that converges subatomic particles with mass into a high-velocity projectile and hurls it at a target. Terrifying power—but—"
But, Beretta continued— By distorting the angle of space to refract the beam, it posed no problem. After all, subatomic particles were only a threat if they reacted with the target material's nuclei.
"S-So you saw through it from just the first shot? But how are you unharmed!? You were clearly hit directly—"
"Unharmed?! Lord Rimuru gave me this mask, and you dare suggest I'm unharmed when it's been ruined?! And now my true face, which should remain hidden—"
Beretta spoke as if reining in her rage.
There was a gaping hole in her torso—surely that was the bigger issue—yet she was fixated on the mask clenched in her hand.
That twisted Beretta was robbing Calman of his ability to think clearly.
But in that moment, Calman's fourth and final subordinate—who had been quietly watching for an opening—launched an attack from behind Beretta.
The palm of his enhanced armament housed several small firing ports. From one of them, a dazzling rainbow-colored radiance burst forth.
Hot plasma.
Generated by the thermonuclear reactor, he'd expelled it directly as a weapon.
"I killed her!!"
The instant that cry left his lips, Beretta was engulfed in superheated plasma—yet not a single strand of her beautiful silver hair was singed.
Standing amid the vivid plasma, unscathed.
That phantasmal sight made Calman forget reality for a moment, and he found himself simply staring.
And then— Beretta let out a soft, contemptuous laugh.
The reason Beretta had been damaged by the neutron convergence cannon initially was that it was an unknown attack.
Neutron beams were something that rarely existed in nature.
Because this property was absent from Beretta's knowledge base, it had passed through her Multiple Barrier and been allowed to cause a reaction.
That she'd avoided a fatal wound by fluidizing her body had been a stroke of luck for Beretta.
Had she possessed this knowledge, she could have blocked it with her Multiple Barrier—but concerned about the possibility of a massive explosion at this location, she'd deliberately refracted it using Spatial Manipulation.
Predicting the convergence point of the neutron beam from the angle of Calman's arm was trivially easy for Beretta.
It was a hypothetical with no real point, but—if Calman had used the Thermal Compression Fist instead of the neutron convergence cannon in that first strike, Beretta's body would have been converted into plasma and obliterated.
Even if that wouldn't have killed her, complete regeneration would have taken considerable time.
The reason her head hadn't been blown away was that its material had evolved into Ultimate Metal.
Ultimate Metal possessed immutable properties, meaning it could not be destroyed by any half-hearted external influence.
Altering those properties would be even more impossible.
But now, she was fully prepared for that contingency as well.
As for the hot plasma—this was a principle Beretta was thoroughly familiar with.
In that case, there was no problem.
For attacks based purely on extreme heat, there were limits depending on the quantity of Magicules she possessed, but Beretta's Natural Hazard Immunity could neutralize them.
That said, since this world lacked Magicules, she couldn't be at full capacity.
Just moments ago, even Beretta would have sustained at least some damage.
Yes—had it been just moments ago.
The current Beretta was immune to their plasma-based weapons.
Because— "You... What are you doing...? Why isn't the plasma working—!?!"
Having unleashed every last drop of his plasma at Beretta and watching her remain completely unscathed, Calman's fourth subordinate—the last one remaining—fell into a state of panic.
Watching his subordinate break down brought Calman back to his senses.
It was hardly unreasonable for him to be confused, Calman thought. Facing such a spectacle that defied all common sense, it was difficult to maintain sanity.
The superheated plasma—directional, to avoid hitting comrades—was completely blocked by the barriers Beretta had deployed around herself and redirected upward through the massive hole in the ceiling.
It dispersed in the air above and vanished.
That was, without a doubt, the function of the electromagnetic barrier built into the enhanced armament...
And Calman realized.
Looking at the enhanced armament that Beretta's tentacles had been decomposing.
"Could she have... assimilated it...?"
—Yes.
Beretta had dismantled the enhanced armament and completely analyzed its functions.
She had then absorbed it as her own power, mastering its capabilities to their fullest.
Moreover, those capabilities had been further optimized and enhanced.
As a new authority of her Ultimate Gift, "King of Automatons"—Machine Domination.
"Huh, Commander? What did you just—"
Those were the last words the fourth man spoke before he collapsed.
Struck by Beretta's tentacles, his consciousness was harvested clean.
Only Calman remained.
And for the first time, Calman saw Beretta's true face.
Narrow, sharp eyes. Thin lips.
A straight, refined nose that sharpened her expression and accentuated her beauty.
Her face was white as porcelain yet faintly flushed pink with the remnants of her fury—far too lifelike to be a mere automaton.
But without question— (—Ah, she's... unmistakably, not human. But how on earth...)
"Beautiful."
That single word slipped from Calman's lips before he could stop it.
Clearly artificial, yet a beauty that had transcended the uncanny valley.
Calman couldn't even fathom what material could reproduce such delicate expressions with such precision.
Offering his heartfelt tribute to that true face— Calman's consciousness was swallowed by darkness as the rain of blows from Beretta's tentacles, launched from outside his awareness, pummeled him into oblivion.
◇◇◇ Calman was a survivor of a now-destroyed "city."
The day had come when he'd just graduated from the officer's academy, and word arrived that the refugees taken in by the city had risen in revolt.
His superior officer—whom he'd admired like a father—had told him with gentle eyes: "—We've decided to send a plea for help to another city. I'm entrusting our fate to you. Don't let us down."
Calman could still recall it perfectly, even now.
And now, he understood that man's feelings at that time with painful clarity.
With the city's technological capabilities, communication with other cities was possible. The communication equipment that functioned even within dense electromagnetic storms had existed since those times.
Yet there were several reasons he'd deliberately ordered Calman and the others: The headquarters had issued orders that the multi-purpose strategic reconnaissance aircraft—which could fly even through electromagnetic storms—must not be lost here, given their drastically reduced numbers from the great war.
That city housed specialized research, and losing the vast research data was unacceptable.
There was the judgment that precious resources must not fall into the hands of the rioters.
And so on.
At the time, Calman being the youngest lieutenant capable of operating the multi-purpose strategic reconnaissance aircraft was also likely a factor.
But above all else— To that superior officer who had lost his own child in the war, Calman was like a son.
His superior officer had given Calman a chance to escape.
Together with four comrades who were still young...
From the city's upper airfield, the multi-purpose strategic reconnaissance aircraft was loaded with as many materials and documents as it could carry, preparing for departure.
The still-young Calman had been unable to grasp his superior's intentions, and simply did as he was told.
He'd believed this was a rescue mission—that he would return to save everyone again.
Yes, without a shred of doubt.
As a result, he had lost forever his beloved mother and sister, as well as the superior officer he'd admired like a father.
His then-girlfriend Sharuru as well...
Regret. Sorrow. Rage.
Through all these turbulent emotions, Calman had sworn on his soul that he would never forgive them.
That was the reason.
The reason Calman had come to despise the Resistance and show them no mercy whatsoever.
After that, Calman and his four subordinates were taken in by the Southern City.
They served under Michel—a young officer rising through the military ranks at the time—and fought against the Resistance.
Time passed, and with the founding of the Empire, Calman volunteered for cybernetic surgery of his own accord.
To serve as a soldier on the front lines.
Michel, who had become the ruler of the south, said nothing and permitted it.
And so the story continued to the present.
...…
……
…
Recalling the past, Calman awoke in a mood of deep melancholy.
For a moment he couldn't remember what he'd been doing, but upon seeing his surroundings, his face blanched.
They had been defeated by Beretta and captured.
"Oh? You're awake?"
Raising his head at the voice, Calman saw a familiar man standing at the room's entrance.
It was Zaza.
He'd been assigned as the guard for the room where the five of them were being held.
Checking his internal clock, roughly half a day had passed since the battle with Beretta.
Bewildered that they were still alive, Calman questioned Zaza.
"...Who are you?"
"Zaza. You're Calman, right? It's a pleasure to meet a celebrity."
"Ha, I'm in the worst mood imaginable. I thought for sure we'd be killed, but here we still are. You planning to torture us? If so—"
"Nah, there's no point in torturing cyborgs. I know that full well. As for why you're still alive..."
Zaza paused there and let out a sigh.
Then he declared with almost a shout: "Veldora opposed it. The reason? How the hell should I know! Once that man says something, he won't listen, and for some reason,
That air of helpless frustration was enough to elicit a measure of even Calman's sympathy, despite his hatred of the Resistance.
Having vented his frustration, Zaza seemed to have calmed down somewhat.
"Still, it happened right when we were talking about negotiating with the Empire, so not killing you was probably the right call. For you, obviously, and for us too..."
"Come on, we're just low-ranking soldiers. There's no value in us as hostages."
"Heh heh. Yeah, yeah, I know that. But you know, I'm starting to wonder if I'm just tired of fighting on. When I think about how that scatterbrained idiot of a man is somehow still alive, I can't help but laugh. All those years of living on edge—it all just seems absurd now. Oh, right, right. The others should be waking up soon, so let's move!"
Zaza gestured for Calman and the others to stand.
Calman's subordinates, who had been silently listening to the conversation, obeyed without a word.
Though they were called cyborgs, Calman's group were of the environment-adapted type.
With everything except their brains mechanized, they could function in virtually any situation.
But without their enhanced armament—which served as their external weaponry—their combat capability was only slightly above that of an ordinary person.
Zaza seemed to know this well, as he showed no wariness whatsoever in escorting them.
"Hurry up, will you? Like I said, you never know what that Veldora character will pull the moment you take your eyes off him. Sure, Sharuma and Lindou are with him, but you can't let your guard down."
Saying this, Calman and the others were hurried along to the plaza.
There, Calman saw it!
"KYAAAA-HAHAHA! Line up, line up! Form a line! I'll serve you all until you're satisfied!!"
A tanned, handsome man laughing with pure delight.
Needless to say, that was Veldora.
Veldora was grilling something on an unfamiliar iron plate.
A sweet, fragrant aroma permeated the air.
The satisfying sizzle of food cooking.
Children lined up holding plastic plates, while the adults watched with wry smiles.
And the children who'd received their portions and taken a bite were beaming with radiant joy.
"You understand, yes? You must give me the rarest parts!"
"Yeah!"
"Okay!"
"Then we have a deal! KYAAAA-HAHAHA!!"
Snippets of that conversation drifted over, filling the air with a peace so absolute it made yesterday's battle feel like a dream.
Struck speechless by the utterly unexpected scene, Calman and the others stood frozen.
But even more dumbfounded than them was Zaza.
Because right after that— "What the hell do you think you're doing—!!"
—Zaza's anguished scream echoed across the plaza.
◇◇◇ What had been distributed to the children was hotcakes.
Ramiris was flitting about, trading "parts" for honey, maple syrup, and various fruit jams.
She'd latched onto Veldora's scheme and was diligently pursuing her own parts collection.
"—Lady Ramiris, you too...?"
"Eh, ahaha..."
Zaza muttered, sounding exhausted.
Ramiris laughed it off.
"Don't be so angry, Zaza. Why don't you have one too?"
"On the house!" Veldora offered, holding out a hotcake. "You know I can't eat!!" Zaza half-shouted, pushing the plate back.
"That's right! My mistake. BWAHAHA!"
As Zaza glared at the cheerfully laughing Veldora, he demanded an explanation for how things had come to this.
It wasn't Veldora but Lindou who answered.
"Now, now, Zaza. Veldora has his reasons—there's no need to complain so much, is there?"
Lindou said this while firmly gripping a plate in hand.
"Wait—Lindou? You haven't... been bribed with hotcakes, have you?"
Veins pulsed on Zaza's forehead as he pressed the question.
Lindou averted his gaze.
"Th-There were some... advanced political transactions, but that's all. Bribery? Perish the thought..."
What the hell, Zaza thought, swallowing his anger. But then he spotted someone even more surprising.
"Oh my? Well, ohohohoho—"
Plate in hand, Sharuma tried to slip away with an evasive laugh.
"Wait. Hold on. Don't tell me even you've been roped into this, Sharuma?"
"Oh my, how awful! Roped in? What an unpleasant way to put it! But you see, Zaza, I believe that sometimes flexible thinking is important too!"
No matter how you heard it, that was an excuse.
Honestly, Zaza thought. This is exactly why everything feels so absurd.
"But—"
"Zaza."
Just as Zaza was about to voice his objections to Sharuma after a moment's hesitation, Sharuma spoke at the same time.
Meeting his gaze directly, Zaza yielded.
Sharuma nodded and began speaking with a serious expression.
"Listen, Zaza. I've made up my mind. Rather than giving up entirely, I want to try talking with the Empire. Of course, I'll need to discuss this with the others in 'Dawn's Light' as well, but—confronting them with force isn't the only way to deal with the Empire, is it? That's what I've come to think."
"Negotiation... But whether the Empire will even listen—"
"Yes, we may not be given that opportunity. But if that's the case, then as Veldora said—can't we fight for what we need?"
"Fight for it? That's reckless!"
It was Calman who interrupted Sharuma and Zaza's conversation.
Laughing with a shrug, he flatly rejected Sharuma's words.
"Listen. Beating us was impressive. I'll admit, I'm genuinely surprised. But the Empire's frontline combat cyborgs are monsters who've truly stopped being human. You people would all be slaughtered."
Calman said this while scanning the surroundings.
There, children were happily eating hotcakes.
"Tch!"
Calman clicked his tongue once.
"Give it a rest. I'm hardly one to talk, but if you'd just kept hiding quietly like before, you wouldn't have been discovered so quickly. This time, thanks to—well, unfortunately for you, to your bad luck—we found you. And that was because that lunatic Zaza there launched that reckless large-scale raid—"
"But!"
Sharuma cut off Calman's words.
And with an expression of firm resolve, she said: "I want to give these children hope. Until yesterday, we didn't even know that such wonderful food existed! Isn't that our responsibility? They've dirtied this whole world and live comfortably while we... Why the Great War happened has nothing to do with today's children! So I've decided. It doesn't have to be every day. Once a year would be fine. Even if we can only get a small amount of ingredients, we can grow them ourselves. And then we can all celebrate together. Surely that much is permissible?"
Pierced by that unwavering gaze, Calman was at a loss for words.
He couldn't argue.
No matter how much Calman had hated the Resistance, that hatred had only been sustainable because he hadn't truly known his opponents.
Now, faced with the children standing before him in the flesh, his previous convictions wavered.
(—Well, damn... When you put it that way, asking what responsibility today's kids have...)
That was the issue Calman had deliberately avoided confronting all this time.
The people he'd dealt with until now had only been warriors who'd received combat training. It was because he could convince himself that they were in the wrong that he'd been able to become as cruel as he wished.
This time, when Lieutenant Hiiragi had used the "nuclear weapon," Calman had felt no revulsion whatsoever—because the Resistance were the enemy, and his imagination hadn't extended to the individuals who belonged to it.
Now that he knew, what arose in Calman's mind was conflict.
He was so conflicted that even clenching a cigar between his lips—his condensed emotional suppressant—couldn't bring the usual anger bubbling up.
(Tch, dammit!!)
Confronted with an unsolvable problem, Calman cursed inwardly.
"—If we could manage without relying on the city, we'd already be doing so without being told. Unfortunately, when we actually analyzed the composition of these so-called hotcakes, wheat flour turned out to be the main ingredient. It seems chicken eggs, bovine milk, and various dairy products are mixed in as well, but we have no means of obtaining such precious foodstuffs. With wheat alone, it might be possible to read the genetic information, reproduce it, and cultivate it within our shelters. But livestock is another matter entirely. On our own, we're truly at a dead end."
It was Lindou who spoke.
He'd been ordered by Sharuma to investigate whether they could reproduce the ingredients on their own.
The results, unfortunately, were negative.
"...Sure, the city has genetic data on pre-war animals and even keeps some for food. Livestock products do exist, but only in the bare minimum needed to keep the city's residents from starving! If you ask them to hand some over, they're hardly going to say 'sure, take it'!"
"That's precisely why I want to negotiate first. If we can be of use, then through labor. That's the honest truth—to establish a non-aggression pact and build a cooperative relationship. But—"
"If they absolutely refuse to recognize us, then we'll have no choice but to fight for our survival. In a world without hope, if it gives us even a modicum of purpose in living, we are prepared to dedicate our lives to the struggle."
We haven't even unified our will within the Resistance yet, Lindou added as a closing note.
But the answer could be predicted without discussion.
Each outpost was nearing its limits, and without the city's cooperation, the lifespan of their various devices would inevitably run out before long.
They'd discovered ruins with functioning power supply units, salvaged what they could, and managed to limp along until now.
But that was no fundamental solution—it was a life-and-death juggling act, trying to excavate replacements before the machines reached their limit.
If a device failed before a spare was found, even the minimum food supply needed for survival would cease.
The adults of the Resistance had been enduring that anxiety and fear all along.
If they could secure the city's cooperation, the repair of those devices would become possible.
Was it not better to act, even knowing it was futile, rather than sit and wait for death?
This sentiment had been deeply rooted among the comrades of the Resistance as well.
If this negotiation with the city could be realized, regardless of which way the outcome turned, it would put an end to that debate.
And without saying the obvious— If the city had no intention of making even the slightest concession, then they would have no choice but to take it by force—and in the end, that was where the conclusion landed.
"KYAAAA-HAHAHA! Well said! Indeed, indeed—whatever the matter, one must first take action!"
Nodding with satisfaction, Veldora received Zaza's icy stare.
The cause of all this is you, that look eloquently conveyed.
"When the time comes to assault the city, I shall join the battle as well. That is what Lady Ramiris—and incidentally, Lord Veldora—wishes."
Appearing as she spoke, Beretta caused Calman to instinctively tense.
"B-Beretta—?!"
"You're Calman, yes? Rest easy. My anger has already subsided. Lady Ramiris repaired the mask for me."
So saying, Beretta surveyed Calman and the others.
Then she fixed her gaze on Calman and, drawing close, whispered as though speaking only to him: "—But if not for that 'one word,' I would have killed every last one of you. You were lucky."
Unable to say "ah" or "mm," Calman could only nod.
Yes—Calman had been fortunate.
Because he'd praised the face that Rimuru had created, Beretta had recovered her composure.
She'd felt as though Rimuru himself, rather than her, had been praised, and that had made her happy.
Without that single word, Beretta would have continued on her rampage and dealt the killing blow to Calman and the others.
Having delivered that message, Beretta turned to face Veldora and Ramiris.
"As you ordered, I've repaired everything except the hole in the ceiling."
"Mhm, mhm, good work! Oh, by the way, Master—why didn't you seal the hole?"
"Hmm? That's because I expect a guest will be arriving shortly."
"A guest?"
Ramiris and Beretta exchanged bewildered looks.
Sharuma and the others were equally confused.
Only Calman wore an expression of shocked realization, a suspicion taking shape in his mind.
"There's an airship in the sky above, isn't there? It's been observing us for some time, and I had a feeling it would make a move soon. I'd rather not have them use nuclear strike magic on us again, so I thought I'd leave the entrance open."
"An airship? Could it be—reconnaissance?!"
"Someone's been watching us?"
"Mm. Zaza, even back when you were fighting that dog, they were lurking above us the whole time."
"What!?"
Pointed out by Veldora, Zaza was stunned.
Seeing this, Veldora grinned proudly.
It seemed he'd finally convinced them he deserved a second look.
"That... even if you call it magic, I'm not sure I follow, but what exactly...?"
Ignoring the bewildered Zaza, Sharuma pressed the question.
"Hmm? Breaking through the ceiling was magic, wasn't it? Transforming the 'Flames of Destruction' into penetrating power—more artful than I expected. Quite powerful too. Are there strong mages in this world as well?"
Veldora's remark, born of some misunderstanding, only deepened everyone's confusion.
Only Ramiris and Beretta remained unfazed.
"So it's because of you, Calman, that they pinpointed this location. But if you knew, you could have told me sooner!"
"Nyahaha, it's all going according to plan! We've secured hostages for the negotiation, everything is proceeding smoothly!"
"As expected of you, Master!"
"You idiot—!! Hostages are useless against the Empire!"
"Ah, I'll vouch for that. There's no value in us as hostages, you know."
"What!?"
Veldora's smug demeanor was punctured by Zaza's rebuke.
It wasn't just from the earlier conversation between Zaza and Calman—hostages were simply useless against the Empire.
That was common sense.
That someone didn't know this left not only Zaza and the others, but even Calman and his fellow Imperial soldiers, utterly dumbfounded.
The group fell silent.
"So what now, Master? I told you this plan wouldn't work!"
Ramiris—having quickly assessed the situation—executed a magnificent betrayal.
Veldora was shaken.
"No, but... I thought it was a brilliant idea..."
Watching Veldora desperately scrambling for excuses, Zaza let out a sigh.
He'd been starting to reconsider whether Veldora's high-performance sensors were worth respecting, but that sentiment had now evaporated.
Zaza thought.
Someone who could command Calman's unit, skilled at intelligence gathering.
From the fact that they'd used "nuclear weapons" without hesitation during the battle with him, the person was someone feared as a "mad dog handler"—Lieutenant Hiiragi.
They were reportedly on good terms with the captured Calman, so there was no mistake.
"—Lieutenant Hiiragi."
Calman remained silent.
He had doubts about his way of life now, but he didn't consider himself obligated to answer.
"Is it dangerous, Zaza?"
"Quite. However, if it's Lieutenant Hiiragi, she specializes in annihilation using killer machine hounds, so if Beretta is here—"
Just as Zaza was about to respond to Sharuma's question, the situation took a dramatic turn.
"Hm!!"
"No way—!"
"—Impossible. An Awakened Demon Lord-class being? And one possessing even more energy than myself..."
Veldora, Ramiris, and Beretta all reacted simultaneously, their eyes locked on the entrance to the upper level.
After a moment, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room: tap, tap, tap.
The figure that appeared was a beautiful woman who could still pass for someone in her twenties.
Azure eyes, and light golden hair cut neatly at the shoulders.
The unexpected arrival was Michel—Vice Admiral Michel.
Under Michel's cold gaze, a pressure so intense it seemed to warp the space itself filled the room.
From Michel's cherry-blossom lips, a beautiful voice rang out.
"Good day, everyone. My name is Michel. I serve as Supreme Commander of the Southern Security Forces, and Governor-General of the Southern City."
Silence.
And then— "B-Blast Princess Michel—!!"
Someone murmured.
"—Impossible... How could one of the Four Armored Generals have come to a place like this—?!"
Once they recognized this was reality, despair and resignation gripped the room.
In the midst of that atmosphere, gazes crossed.
Veldora stood with easy composure, a smile on his face.
Michel gazed at him, curious, contemplative.
—And so it was that Veldora encountered the most powerful being in this world.