Chapter 6: A Tangle of Motives

In a deep, dark forest at night, where trees grew thick and lush, as if monsters were dancing.

It was closing in. Drawing nearer. Like a tsunami surging forward.

From all directions, walls of rotting flesh pressed in, intent on crushing the man.

Driven by the command of a spell, the horde of corpses reached out with both hands, rushing fiercely to drag the man into their ranks of the dead.

Yet, at first glance, in the face of that seemingly irresistible, overwhelming mass—

“《O golden thunderbeast, race across the earth, dance and soar in the heavens》”

The man casually concluded the three-verse spell with runes.

In that instant, magical energy streaked across the ground in lines of light, forming a pentagram array centered on the man.

The next moment, countless thunder orbs spiraled around the space surrounding him, and a storm of lightning roared and danced as if to rend the heavens and shatter the earth.

The rising aurora seared the vision with white-hot light.

Every corpse that touched the thunder orbs or lightning was obliterated, evaporating without a trace—

And then, in that moment.

Hyou—a chilling gust swirled.

A cold wind whirled around the man, and the treetops began to rustle.

From atop a tall tree, a woman—Eleanor—had been observing the man and had already begun chanting the spell for Black Magic [Ice Blizzard].

But the man—Albert—seemed to have anticipated this, locking onto Eleanor above with sharp, piercing eyes and pointing swiftly with his left hand.

In that instant, a bolt of lightning shot from his fingertip.

A single flash of light tore through the forest’s darkness, flying straight toward Eleanor.

(—Tch!? A delayed activation here!?)

Delayed Activation. A high-level technique where a spell is pre-chanted and triggered at a chosen moment.

Facing Albert’s Delayed Activation of [Lightning Pierce], Eleanor, perched in the tree, canceled her [Ice Blizzard] mid-chant, kicked off the branch, and leaped into the void—

A split second earlier, the lightning bolt grazed the spot where Eleanor had been.

As Eleanor fell headfirst, she felt a fleeting moment of relief.

Albert, unperturbed by the dodged lightning, spun around and pointed at the falling Eleanor with his right hand—

(—And even a Double Cast!?)

Double Cast. A high-level technique that triggers the same spell twice with a single chant.

Eleanor clicked her tongue and instinctively kicked a nearby trunk, altering her falling trajectory.

By a hair’s breadth, another flash of lightning grazed past her ear.

“Quite the impressive display…”

Eleanor twisted her body gracefully and landed like a cat.

At the same time, she swiftly turned on her heel and began to run.

Her movements suggested she was retreating, as if acknowledging she was outmatched and needed to create distance.

“—Hmph.”

Without hesitation, Albert kicked off the ground and pursued Eleanor.

He ran parallel to her path, maintaining a fixed distance.

Two gusts of wind streaked through the dark forest night.

Zazazaza—the sound of trampling undergrowth echoed in the darkness.

Countless trees flashed by between them, like a raging torrent—

“…Heh.”

Certain of her victory, Eleanor’s lips curled into a faint smirk.

Necromancy [Dead Line].

Along Albert’s path, a linear magical trap—a barrier—had already been set.

That line was the boundary between life and death. The divide between this world and the underworld.

Anyone who crossed it without permission would have their life functions halted instantly, without question—

“Perfect… Just like that… Keep following me…”

Twenty meters remained until Albert crossed the death line—

Ten meters,

Five meters,

One meter—

“…What!?”

But Eleanor’s eyes widened in shock.

Just before crossing the death line, Albert stopped abruptly, without any warning—

“《Roar, Blazing Lion》—”

With a single-verse chant, he cast Black Magic [Blaze Burst].

(…He saw through this too. What a cunning man…)

A fireball of condensed thermal energy arced toward Eleanor, who gave a wry smile.

The overwhelming, deadly heat could be felt on her skin—

(The tri-elemental resistance spell I enchanted myself with—Black Magic [Tri-Resist]—its effect is… shaky, but it’s still active… In that case—)

Eleanor chose not to counter with a spell—

“《Come forth, king of crimson beasts》—!”

She chanted a spell and launched a fireball of her own, meeting the incoming one head-on.

In the air, the colliding fireballs triggered a massive explosion.

The world burned in twilight hues. The raging flames became a storm of fire, engulfing the entire area, swallowing both Albert and Eleanor, ravaging and tormenting everything—

“…Tch. 《O barrier of light》”

Albert swiftly chanted a counterspell, erecting a hemispherical barrier formed of hexagonal light patterns, shielding himself from the flames.

(An opening—!)

Meanwhile, Eleanor, letting the flames sear her body, laughed fiercely and began chanting another spell.

“《Come forth》—《Oh, come forth》—《Come forth》—”

As her intoxicated chant echoed around her—

“《Answer the call of the night spirits》—《Answer》—《Respond》—”

A gate opened in the void. Miasma poured out. Countless shadowy figures emerged from the gate. A suffocating stench of death filled the air.

Around Albert, new waves of corpses were summoned at a terrifying pace.

In an instant, a massive horde of corpses surrounded Albert, leaving no gaps—

“《His blood and flesh shall comfort and nourish thee》—《Now, now, be summoned》—!”

“KISHAAAAAAA—!”

At Eleanor’s command, the walls of rotting flesh surged toward Albert like a tsunami once more—

The overwhelming mass seemed intent on crushing him.

Normally, this would be checkmate.

No matter how skilled Albert was with single-verse chants, Delayed Activation of pre-chanted spells, or Double Casting, handling this many enemies at once should have been impossible.

In battle, numbers were an absolute force.

…Normally.

“《O golden thunderbeast, race across the earth, dance and soar in the heavens》”

Yet Albert chanted the spell calmly, as if it were nothing.

For Albert, who typically chanted offensive spells in a single verse, this three-verse spell was a rare exception.

The spell completed just as the corpses’ outstretched hands were about to touch him.

Even with the dead pressing so close, Albert’s icy expression didn’t waver. Not even a blink as their sharp claws neared his eyes.

And then, the next moment—

—Like brushing aside a sleeve.

A rising aurora and a deafening blast. Flashes of light and shockwaves tore through the darkness. A dance of violet lightning.

A storm of lightning formed around Albert, with countless thunder orbs spiraling around him.

The thunder god’s roar mercilessly swept away the horde of corpses surrounding Albert.

It was a one-sided annihilation, making the manipulated corpses seem almost pitiable.

“Of course… Albert-sama has that spell…”

Eleanor watched her beloved minions scatter helplessly, as if trapped in a nightmare.

“Truly, what a wickedly playful man…”

The indiscriminate, wide-area annihilation spell that kept Eleanor’s army of corpses at bay was the B-rank military spell, Black Magic [Plasma Field]. It was an advanced version of the C-rank military spell [Lightning Pierce].

Military spells are typically classified into A, B, and C ranks.

A-rank spells are tactical or strategic-level grand magic, with cataclysmic power, but they aren’t meant to be chanted alone. They are ritual spells cast by multiple mages together.

C-rank and B-rank military spells are primarily used in close- to long-range magical combat.

As a general benchmark, chanting a C-rank spell in a single verse marks a top-tier mage, while managing a B-rank spell, regardless of the number of verses, qualifies one as an elite mage.

However, B-rank military spells typically require seven or more verses. This is a number meant to be used in coordination with allies.

While B-rank spells far surpass C-rank in power, in one-on-one magical combat, their long chanting time creates significant vulnerabilities, rendering them impractical by conventional standards.

“And yet, this man, Albert—”

A B-rank military spell in just three verses.

Chanting it in three verses—the maximum length viable in one-on-one combat—made all the difference.

Even if Black Magic [Plasma Field] was difficult to coordinate with allies and challenging to deploy, condensing its chant to three verses made it viable for solo use, completely changing the equation.

As a result, Eleanor could only grit her teeth and watch as her beloved minions were slaughtered without resistance.

“…What a formidable man.”

Eleanor genuinely thought so about Albert.

“Imperial Court Mage Corps, Special Missions Executive Number 17, Albert-sama, ‘The Star’… To think he was this extraordinary…”

Albert didn’t rely on the tricks favored by ordinary mages—no specialized magic, no surprise attacks with magical tools or artifacts.

Through relentless effort, he wielded immense magical power with perfect control and precision, chanted spells with speed and accuracy, and applied them with godlike situational judgment… That was all.

It was utterly simple, yet it left no openings—a true strength, the textbook example of an orthodox mage. Eleanor realized, through this battle, that Albert’s title as the ‘Empire’s greatest sniper’ was merely a byproduct of his flawless magical control.

—And then.

Trees ablaze, flames spreading across the ground, violet lightning crackling everywhere.

From the center of swirling embers and waves of heat.

“Is your hospitality running dry?”

Like a war demon marching from hell itself.

With rising flames as his backdrop, Albert slowly advanced toward Eleanor.

His piercing gaze, sharp enough to kill, glinted even more fiercely in the flickering shadows of the firelight.

His body was unscathed. Not a drop of blood spilled, not a breath out of place, not a speck of dirt on him.

“Did you think you could easily take down a mere sniper by forcing a close-range magical battle? …You underestimated me.”

“…Oh, don’t jest.”

Heh, Eleanor gave a wry smile.

She hadn’t underestimated him.

Nor had she let her guard down.

For this trap, to ensure she could take down Albert, Eleanor had prepared meticulously, without a hint of carelessness.

The initial conditions were entirely in her favor.

But Albert had overwhelmingly surpassed them. That was the simple truth.

“…Albert-sama was far stronger, far more intense than I ever imagined… Heh heh… My body’s burning from the core, aching… I feel like I might break…”

Smiling seductively, Eleanor writhed sensually—

“…You’re quite the monster yourself.”

Albert glared coldly at Eleanor, who clutched her body with a dangerous allure, spitting the words as if in disdain.

“That super-regenerative ability… It’s not some conditionally triggered healing spell, or a drug that enhances self-recovery. It’s something far more sinister—something else entirely.”

“…”

The moment Albert pointed it out.

Eleanor fell silent, and the darkness cloaking her seemed to grow even denser.

As Albert noted, Eleanor’s body, which should have been scorched by the flames, had healed completely while they exchanged trivial words.

This wasn’t an isolated incident. In their previous clash in Fejite, and throughout this battle, Albert’s offensive spells had struck Eleanor multiple times. He had dealt what should have been fatal blows.

Just moments ago, he had deliberately engaged in close-quarters combat, unleashing magical energy directly from his fist to blow her head off. It wasn’t arrogance—he had felt the impact. Against any ordinary opponent, the fight would have ended long ago.

But Eleanor didn’t bleed, didn’t die, no matter how grievous the wound. After a brief pause, a black mist rose from her injuries, and they vanished completely.

(…Her eeriness doesn’t end there.)

Albert glanced briefly at his surroundings.

It was a scene straight out of hell.

The dozens of corpses Eleanor had summoned—some burning, some charred to ash, some torn to pieces—were all neutralized. Their unliberated souls writhed on the ground, their severed or half-torn limbs twitching.

The stench of death and burning flesh mingled, creating a true vision of hell.

Such hellscapes were now scattered throughout this forest.

Just how many corpses did Eleanor command as her minions? And why were they all female? Moreover, the sheer number of corpses she summoned far exceeded the limits of conventional necromantic summoning. What kind of magic was this?

(Her immortality, and this seemingly infinite necromancy. I must unravel this mystery.)

Of course, Albert still had plenty of tricks up his sleeve.

But the same could be said for Eleanor.

(This woman is on a different level from the depraved mages I’ve eliminated before.)

While Albert surpassed her in pure magical combat skill, and even depraved mages with greater skill than Eleanor weren’t unheard of… Albert calmly judged that Eleanor harbored something terrifying, something beyond that—a formidable foe.

“…Shall we continue the hospitality?”

Eleanor laughed lowly, darkly, and seductively.

Her arms hung limply, and her eyes—peering through gaps in her hair—gleamed like the abyss, resembling those of a broken marionette.

Around her, more corpses—again, all female—emerged from nowhere, clustering around her like slaves devoted to their queen.

“Enough talk. Play your trump card already.”

Albert said coldly.

“You’re not just some woman who wastes her minions on a whim.”

“Oh my… You’ve seen through me that far?”

At Albert’s words, Eleanor blinked in surprise for a moment, then smiled even more wickedly, clearly amused.

“My apologies… For a magnificent, rugged gentleman like you, I truly wanted to fight at full strength. But if I may be so bold… I hope to see the real you as well, Albert-sama. Heh heh heh…”

Albert brushed off Eleanor’s seductive expression with icy detachment.

“…What’s your goal?”

“Heh heh… ufufu… Isn’t a woman with secrets… more alluring?”

Eleanor laughed.

She laughed always, no matter the moment.

With a bewitching, fatal smile that carried the weight of darkness.

(This woman…)

Earlier, a mysterious man, likely from the Researchers of Divine Wisdom, had made contact with Re=L.

As Albert moved to deal with him, Eleanor had suddenly attacked.

It was clear that Eleanor had appeared to stall him.

Albert had aimed to end it quickly, but Eleanor’s incomprehensible immortality was bleeding away precious time.

(…)

While keeping his guard up against Eleanor, Albert thought.

Since it was confirmed that Eleanor was a mage of the Researchers of Divine Wisdom, the imperial government had frantically investigated her traces, revealing that she was a high-ranking member of the organization’s inner circle—a Second Order [Adeptus] class.

As such, Eleanor likely had deep knowledge of the organization’s inner workings, information that the imperial government, frustrated by the stalemate in their conflict, desperately craved.

If Albert could capture Eleanor here, the empire would gain an immense advantage in their struggle against the organization.

(But…)

Albert’s instincts warned him. This woman, Eleanor, was dangerous.

She possessed something unfathomable, something beyond their ability to handle.

The organization’s secrets were valuable, but this woman should be avoided.

Thus, Albert made his decision without hesitation.

(I’ll end her here, for certain.)

In that moment, a bone-chilling killing intent radiated from Albert.

(Don’t think of her as human… Treat her as a monster—a first-class threat species—and deal with her accordingly.)

Albert raised his left hand, pointing his fingers at Eleanor—

“…!?”

Sensing the razor-sharp killing intent, Eleanor’s seductive smile tightened with a hint of tension—

As Albert began to weave a spell unlike any before—that was the moment.

“—!”

Albert saw it.

The image projected into his left eye by the active far-seeing magic.

Unable to spare attention during combat, he hadn’t noticed the scene until now.

The magical clairvoyance set up at the old development district’s wharf along the northeastern coast to monitor the fleeing Re=L revealed a shocking sight—Re=L striking down Glenn with her own hands.

Pierced by Re=L’s sword, Glenn was sent flying in an arc… only to be swallowed by the raging waves in an instant.

“Tch… pathetic.”

It was at that moment, as Albert clicked his tongue in frustration, that something happened.

Eleanor, too, must have been observing Re=L and the others through some means of her own.

“…Hehe, what a pity. It’s time to make my exit.”

The eerie, seductive aura she had exuded until then vanished completely.

In an instant, Eleanor’s demeanor shifted to that of a refined, composed lady.

And, seizing a fleeting moment of opportunity, she began chanting a spell.

“—《Burst》!”

Flames erupted around Eleanor, obscuring the surroundings and blocking all visibility.

Black Magic [Quick Ignition]. The fastest and shortest spell currently known, it was less an attack and more a C-rank military spell used for emergency evasion.

Even someone as skilled as Albert, caught off guard and faced with a spell of theoretical maximum speed, couldn’t possibly chant a counter-spell to neutralize the three-element assault spell in time—

Sure enough, by the time the flames subsided, Eleanor had already vanished.

At the same time, it seemed she had canceled her necromancy. The remaining undead slowly crumbled, weathered away, and returned to the earth.

Her retreat was executed with such flawless precision that, even as an enemy, it was worthy of admiration.

“…So, I’ve been completely outplayed, huh?”

Muttering bitterly, Albert quietly chanted a spell and swung his left arm.

The flames blazing around him extinguished as easily as if blowing out a candle.

Silence and complete darkness returned to the night’s sea of trees.

“But I’m not letting this slide…”

Suppressing the whirlwind of emotions swirling in his chest, Albert thought calmly, coldly.

Re=L, who had struck down Glenn, was now—perhaps influenced by whatever the man she secretly met had told her—rushing straight toward a certain location at breakneck speed through the city.

Her betrayal was already evident from the fact that she had cut down Glenn.

In that case, Re=L’s target was undoubtedly Rumia. Calculating the distance between them and Re=L’s movement speed, there was no way Albert could reach her in time, even if he rushed now.

Rumia falling into Re=L’s hands was, at this point, a foregone conclusion.

He reached that conclusion with cold clarity.

So, what was the next move he should make?

“…”

Albert recalled Eleanor once saying, “I’d prefer to keep Rumia alive if possible.” In that case, given the roundabout tactics used in this situation, it was highly unlikely—nine times out of ten—that they intended to harm Rumia immediately.

“No choice, then…”

Having solidified his strategy, Albert dashed off like a gale to achieve his goal.

In the tourist town, now fully cloaked in night, oil-powered street lamps and lanterns glowed brightly everywhere. Countless stalls and taverns opened their doors, and tourists gathered in droves along the main streets, ready to enjoy another lively evening. The town brimmed with energy.

The night scene of Saineria Island’s tourist district revealed a different kind of vibrancy compared to the daytime.

In one corner of this bustling town, a group of students from two different classes strolled together.

“…Hey, Sistine, you sure about this?”

Kash, one of the students walking through the night streets, called out to Sistine walking beside him.

“The place we’re heading to… what’s it called? Southern-style or something? I don’t really get it, but apparently, it’s famous for serving crazy delicious seafood dishes!”

“Paella, right? If I remember correctly,” Cecil chimed in, adding to Kash’s words.

“It’s a dish made by simmering fresh seafood, rice, and vegetables in a broth… or something like that, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s it! Rice dishes are pretty rare, huh!”

“They’re a staple in the East and South, but in the North, rice is just used as a salad ingredient,” Teresa remarked, naturally joining the conversation. Coming from a prominent trading family, she was, as expected, well-versed in such matters.

“Anyway, point is, this is a rare chance, so why don’t you come with us to the restaurant? I mean… you could still call Rumia and bring her along.”

“Thanks, Kash.”

Sistine smiled at Kash’s thoughtfulness.

“But I’ll pass for today. Rumia said she’s waiting at the inn for Re=L to come back… and I’d feel bad going without her. So, everyone, don’t worry about us and have fun!”

In Sistine’s arms was a paper package containing simple snacks—enough roast beef sandwiches for a few people—bought from a random stall earlier.

“I’ll eat with Rumia at the inn.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d say that…”

Kash scratched his cheek awkwardly. The idea of leaving Sistine, Rumia, and Re=L behind to enjoy a meal with the others probably felt a little uncomfortable.

Just then—

“That’s fine, isn’t it?”

Twirl.

Wendy spoke up, playfully fiddling with her twin-tails.

“If she says she wants to stay behind, let her do as she pleases.”

“C’mon… I know you’re hungry and want to eat already, but you don’t have to say it like that.”

“Don’t lump me in with you!”

Kash shrugged in exasperation, while Wendy’s face turned bright red, shrieking in protest.

“A-anyway! If she wants to stay, she should do as she likes! Besides, it’s not like today’s the last chance for us to eat together!”

“Y-yeah… you’re right. There’s tomorrow, too…”

Lynn, trying to soothe a clearly irritated Wendy—who had been unfairly insulted by Kash—nodded nervously in agreement with her words.

“But in return! You three better make up quickly! I mean… when you three, who are usually so inseparable, are acting like this… it throws us off, too!”

“…Yeah, you’re right… Thanks, Wendy.”

“…Hmph!”

At Sistine’s sincere thanks, Wendy’s cheeks flushed slightly. She crossed her arms and turned away with a huff.

“Well, if that’s how it is, we’re heading this way.”

The group had reached a crossroads.

If Sistine was returning to the inn, this was where they’d part ways.

“See ya, Sistine. Hang in there, okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, everyone!”

After a brief farewell,

Sistine split off from the group and hurried alone toward the inn.

“Ugh, that took longer than I expected…”

Arriving at the inn where they were staying, Sistine carefully held the paper package of snacks and quickly made her way to the room where Rumia was likely waiting.

The room was a triple, assigned for Sistine, Rumia, and Re=L’s stay. It was located down the carpeted hallway, toward the back.

After Re=L had suddenly gotten angry and stormed off somewhere, Rumia had insisted on staying in the room, firmly believing that Glenn would bring her back.

If her best friend was determined to stay and wait, Sistine naturally decided to stay with her.

Even so, hunger still struck, so while Rumia waited in the room, Sistine had gone out to buy something simple for them to eat as dinner.

Truth be told, she had wanted to join the rest of the class for a meal out, but she couldn’t leave Rumia behind.

Rumia herself knew that if she stayed, Sistine would stay too, and she had looked deeply apologetic about it.

“…Geez, what a softie.”

Sistine could only give a wry smile at Rumia’s kindness.

But it was precisely because Rumia was such a softie that Sistine loved her so much and felt an overwhelming urge to protect her.

“Still… buying enough for Re=L, too? I’m such a softie myself…”

Sighing in exasperation at herself, Sistine muttered under her breath.

Of course, Sistine wasn’t entirely without her own frustrations toward Re=L. She couldn’t deny that she’d been irritated by Re=L’s sudden change in attitude.

But she also understood that Re=L’s behavior didn’t stem from some inherent personality flaw but rather from temporary emotional instability—like a child sulking because things didn’t go their way.

Though their time together had been short, Re=L was an open book, for better or worse. Normally, Re=L was—despite her occasional outrageous antics—a straightforward and good-natured girl. Her near-complete lack of charm was, well, her one flaw.

“She’s just… someone you can’t leave alone, you know?”

Indeed, as Glenn had said, Re=L’s inner self seemed far younger than her appearance suggested. She came off as a bit selfish, a tad spoiled, and an unsociable little sister of sorts.

“I wonder if Re=L’s back yet?”

If she was, Glenn would likely be there too.

In that case, everything should be fine. They’d probably reconcile smoothly.

And so, tonight’s dinner would likely be a simple meal in the room with Glenn, herself, Rumia, and Re=L—the four of them together.

In fact, she had bought enough for four, just in case.

Imagining that scene… it didn’t sound half bad. A small smile tugged at her lips.

Unbeknownst to Sistine herself, the meal in the paper bag she carried was far more than enough for four people. Subconsciously, she had bought extra, accounting for Glenn’s voracious appetite.

Oblivious to this, she thought to herself how the bag felt awfully heavy for just four portions, all while picturing the somewhat fun little dinner party about to unfold. This kind of thing might be nice once in a while…

With such thoughts in her mind, Sistine reached the door of their assigned room and extended her hand toward the doorknob—

Crash.

From the other side of the door, she faintly heard the sound of something breaking… or so it seemed.

“…Rumia?”

Did she knock over one of the decorative vases in the room and break it? Geez, what a klutz.

Thinking such carefree thoughts, Sistine inserted the key into the door’s lock.

She turned the key, twisted the doorknob, opened the door, and stepped inside.

And then—

A shocking scene burst into Sistine’s field of vision.

The paper bag slipped from her hands and fell to the floor, the roast beef sandwiches inside spilling out and scattering across the ground.

“…Huh?”

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a lamp. The door at the far end, leading to a small balcony, had been kicked in from the outside, its debris and fragments strewn across the floor.

As expected, a decorative vase that had been placed in the corner of the room lay shattered on the floor.

But unexpectedly, in the center of the room, Rumia lay slumped, collapsed.

And even more unexpectedly, standing beside the fallen Rumia was Re=L. Her cheeks, hands, and clothes were stained red with blood, and in her hand, she held a massive sword, dripping with crimson. She gazed down at Rumia with eyes devoid of readable emotion—

“…Huh? …What… what’s going on…?”

At the sight of Re=L, blood-soaked and ghostly—

Sistine felt pure, unadulterated fear.

“Re=L!? W-what in the world did you—!?”

“It’s fine.”

Re=L’s glassy eyes turned toward Sistine with a sharp glint.

“I didn’t kill Rumia. I don’t plan to. I just knocked her out with the pressure of my sword.”

A venomous dread stabbed at Sistine’s heart, making it pound.

Kill her? Didn’t kill her?

When had she wandered into such an abnormal world?

“You said Rumia, but… w-what about Sensei!? He went after you—!?”

Barely snapping back to herself, Sistine threw out the question with a trembling voice, praying against the worst premonition sparked by Re=L’s bloodied appearance—that it wasn’t true.

“…Glenn?”

Re=L tilted her head slightly, replying as if it were nothing.

“I killed him. I cut him down.”

“Ah—”

A wave of dizziness hit her.

It felt as though the ground beneath her was crumbling.

The world lost its balance, swaying unsteadily.

“…N-no… that’s a lie… it can’t be…”

Even as she tried to escape reality with her words, somewhere deep in her heart, Sistine knew.

Re=L might act impulsively or come off as cold at times, but she was honest to a fault. She wasn’t the type to lie or play mind games—such cunning was beyond her.

So, if Re=L said it, it was likely true. Above all, her blood-drenched appearance was undeniable proof of the truth in her words.

Sistine’s mind went blank. Her knees trembled.

Rumia was in danger. Glenn was gone. What should she think of first? What should she do? How was she supposed to handle this? Nothing made sense. Anger, sorrow, fear, confusion—a whirlwind of emotions churned within her, plunging Sistine’s world into chaos and despair.

“What… what’s going on!? Re=L, why would you do this—!?”

That’s why, instead of focusing on what mattered, she blurted out such a foolish question.

The answer was obvious, wasn’t it?

For Rumia to be caught up in this, for Glenn to lose his life—

“…The truth is, I’m your enemy.”

Yes, it was—

“I’m with the… what was it? The Researchers of Divine Wisdom… or something. Anyway, your enemy.”

The Researchers of Divine Wisdom—the vile magical terrorist organization that had long waged war against the Alzano Empire’s government. This had to be tied to one of their schemes, didn’t it?

“…Ah… ugh…”

Sistine clutched her chest, her heart pounding like a frantic bell, trembling uncontrollably.

She had sworn that if that moment ever came, she would do something.

When she had shared that resolve with someone she deeply respected, he had—rarely showing a serious side—said, “I respect you a little for that… cocky as you are.” She had felt a small swell of pride at those words.

Yet now, for some reason, she couldn’t recall what that something was supposed to be.

All she could think about was how unbelievable it was that Re=L would do this, that Glenn’s death had to be a lie—useless thoughts like that.

Even though she’d been told that Eleanor, a close aide to Queen Alicia VII, had been a pawn of the Researchers of Divine Wisdom, Sistine couldn’t accept this reality now.

She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to believe it.

That was all she could focus on, and she couldn’t think at all about what she needed to do.

Her body—refused to move.

“…I’m taking Rumia with me.”

In her daze, Re=L’s words finally jolted Sistine into remembering.

What she needed to do.

That’s right—she had sworn to protect Rumia. To Sistine, Rumia was like half of her own being, a best friend as close as family, someone she had shared joys and hardships with. Knowing Rumia’s harsh upbringing and her heavy fate, Sistine wanted to lighten that burden, to carry it alongside her—

That’s why she had asked Glenn to teach her how to fight, to become stronger—

“…W-wait…!”

Sistine’s desperate cry stopped Re=L, who had reached out toward the fallen Rumia.

“…G-get… away… from Rumia…!”

“…”

Re=L froze, her hand still extended toward Rumia, silent.

Sistine aimed her left palm at Re=L, forcing out a hoarse voice.

“I-I’ll… be your opponent…! I won’t… let you… lay a single finger… on Rumia…!”

Her face was deathly pale, her breathing ragged and bordering on hyperventilation. It was questionable whether she could even chant a spell properly in this state, but Sistine desperately tried to intimidate Re=L.

Re=L stood up, defenseless, and stared at Sistine.

Sistine flinched and took a step back.

“D-don’t move…! If you move… I’ll shoot…!”

Re=L glanced at Sistine, who was visibly trembling with fear.

“…You’re going to fight?”

She asked Sistine curtly.

“…Huh?”

A pitifully foolish sound escaped Sistine’s throat.

“…Are you really going to fight?”

Re=L adjusted her grip on the massive sword, making it clank ominously.

There was likely no intent to intimidate in the action—

“…Ah… ugh…”

But that alone was enough for Sistine to feel her fragile resolve shatter into pieces.

Re=L’s sword gleamed. Reflecting the dim light of the room’s lamp, it radiated an eerie, menacing glow.

Sistine couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. The blood staining Re=L’s hands and cheeks, coloring her in a demonic hue, stood out painfully. Had the color of blood always been so vivid?

Fighting Re=L meant that sword would be turned on her, Sistine realized belatedly.

Of course, Sistine had faced terrifying enemies before.

But back then, Glenn had been there. He was there for her. That’s why she could stand and fight.

If Glenn was there, everything would be okay.

Glenn, who usually seemed so unreliable… and wasn’t even that exceptional as a mage…still gave off an overwhelming sense of reassurance in critical moments, making her believe everything would be alright.

And now… she was alone. Glenn was gone.

She remembered how, when she was alone, she had trembled in fear, protected by Rumia, dragging Glenn down, unable to do anything. What had she been thinking, assuming a few brushes with danger made her capable? What had she been so arrogant about?

Sistine hadn’t known at all. She hadn’t realized how lonely, how terrifying it was to face an enemy alone.

“…Ugh… ah… a-ah…!?”

As Sistine trembled even more under the tense air of the real battlefield—

Suddenly, Re=L murmured softly.

“…Just shoot.”

“…Huh?”

“If Sistine uses her strongest magic to shoot at me, that’ll do.”

For some reason, she said something like that.

“I… won’t do anything.”

Re=L simply stared at Sistine, unmoving.

“…Until Sistine’s spell is complete… I won’t do anything.”

Meanwhile, Sistine’s mind raced in confusion.

Was this some kind of trap? Or was she being underestimated?

Either way, this was, without a doubt, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Sistine.

At this distance, if Re=L truly intended to act, Sistine wouldn’t even have time to chant a single verse of a spell before being cut down in an instant. She had witnessed Re=L’s extraordinary physical abilities multiple times, so this was almost a certainty.

Yet, though her intentions were unclear, Re=L was saying she would wait.

Even with a non-lethal assault spell, if Sistine took the time to channel her mana, chanted a spell with three or more verses, and maximized its power, she might be able to incapacitate Re=L with a single blow.

Yes, this was her one and only chance to defeat Re=L and protect Rumia—

(…Do it. Do it, Sistine.)

If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to save Rumia.

(Do it, Sistine! You’re the one who has to protect Rumia!)

She steeled herself, repeating those words in her heart to muster her courage.

(—Come on!)

But—

“……”

Sistine’s lips trembled with hesitation, unable to weave a single spell.

Eventually.

“…You’re not going to shoot?”

Re=L murmured, her brows furrowing ever so slightly.

“……”

Sistine remained silent, her body trembling with a faint clatter.

“Shoot.”

“……”

Silence flowed. It continued to flow.

There was more than enough time to channel her mana and chant a spell with multiple verses.

But—Sistine’s trembling lips never formed the words of a spell.

“…Too bad. Time’s up.”

Re=L turned on her heel, exposing her defenseless back to Sistine.

Even then, Sistine didn’t move. She couldn’t move.

Facing Sistine’s inaction, Re=L calmly scooped Rumia into her arms… and dashed off. She leapt from the balcony, her presence fading into the distance in an instant.

Silence.

Stillness.

…Quiet.

Time dragged on aimlessly, flowing without purpose…

How much time had passed?

…Suddenly, Sistine began muttering to no one in particular, her voice low and faltering.

“…B-But, I mean… it couldn’t be helped… If I shot from this position… I might’ve… hit Rumia too… maybe…”

Her soliloquy continued, as if making excuses to someone unseen.

“If I messed up… even Re=L might’ve… d-died… maybe… And, you know… killing her… that’s just… too much, right? So… it couldn’t be helped… yeah… it’s… unavoidable… haha…”

Her words trailed off. A dry, fleeting laugh escaped her lips.

Sistine collapsed to her knees with a thud.

“…Hic.”

Tears she could no longer hold back spilled from the corners of her eyes, streaming down her face.

“…N-No… hic… sob… I’m such… a liar…”

That she might hit Rumia?

That Re=L might die if she messed up?

…That wasn’t it. No. Absolutely not. What a liar. What a hypocrite.

“I was just… scared! I was so scared… trembling… and I couldn’t do anything…!”

If she had started chanting a spell.

If her full-powered spell failed to take Re=L down.

That gleaming sword might come for her without mercy—Sistine couldn’t shake that ominous image. The vision of herself sinking into a pool of blood clung to her mind, refusing to let go.

That’s why she couldn’t move. Faced with that golden opportunity, she just trembled pathetically.

That she might hit Rumia? …No.

That Re=L might die if she messed up? …That wasn’t it either.

She simply lacked the courage to fight. She had succumbed to fear. She had lost to herself.

“Ugh… ah…”

Sistine clutched her head and sank to her knees.

A storm of self-loathing raged through her hollow heart.

Protect that girl? How arrogant.

In the end, hadn’t fear for her own safety left her paralyzed?

What would Glenn say if he saw her in this pathetic, shameful state? Would he laugh? Be dumbfounded? Disappointed? Could she even bear it?

But that man was no longer in this world.

“…Ah… ah… aaaaa—!”

Sistine clutched her head and curled up on the spot…

At that moment.

Bam!

The door to the room was kicked open with force.

“—Eek!?”

Could Re=L have returned? Even now, Sistine’s cowardice filled her with further disgust as she instinctively turned toward the door.

…Beyond the wide-open door.

“I’m getting in the way.”

There stood a sharp-eyed man in a black cloak—Albert.

For some reason, he was soaking wet. From Sistine’s angle, he was partially shadowed, but it seemed he was carrying someone on his back.

“You’re Sistine Fibel, right? I’m Albert Frazer of the Imperial Court Mage Corps. We haven’t met directly, but you should at least know my name and face.”

Without waiting for a reply, Albert strode into the room unceremoniously.

“Under the Imperial Military Code, Chapter Six, Emergency Clause Four, Article Thirty-Two, I’m invoking my authority as a commander of ten to request your cooperation.”

Sistine had neither the time nor the mental clarity to match the man’s face and name from the depths of her memory. She could only shrink back, trembling at the sudden intruder.

“…W-What!? What’s going on…!? W-Who are you—!?”

At that moment.

The dim lamplight in the room illuminated Albert as he stepped out of the shadows.

The identity of the person he was carrying became clear.

“Kyaaa—!? Sensei!?”

Slung over Albert’s back was Glenn, limp and pale as a corpse. Like Albert, he was soaked through, his back stained a chilling crimson.

“Don’t panic. He’s still breathing… barely.”

Albert tossed Glenn onto a bed in the corner of the room with a thud.

Instantly, Sistine rushed to Glenn’s side, tears in her eyes, clinging to his body.

“S-Sensei!? Hang in there, Sensei—! W-What are these awful wounds—? I need to use healing magic right away…!”

“Stop. It’s useless. His body’s already rejecting healing magic. In classical medical terms, he’s ‘caught in the Reaper’s scythe.’”

Caught in the Reaper’s scythe.

As an honor student, Sistine naturally understood what that meant.

“No… no way… no… don’t die… please, don’t die, Sensei…!”

“Lend me your strength, Fibel.”

Albert spoke calmly to the half-hysterical Sistine.

“I’ve stopped the bleeding, but it’s like pouring water on a hot stone.”

Sistine was too shaken to notice, but Glenn’s wounds had been frozen with terrifying precision, balancing cell necrosis from frostbite and a state of suspended animation.

“A healing spell like White Magic [Life Up], which amplifies the target’s natural recovery, won’t save him. Glenn no longer has the vitality to heal himself. If this continues, he’ll die without question.”

“N-No… no way…”

Death.

A chilling dread ran down Sistine’s spine. If his vitality was so depleted that healing magic wouldn’t work… it meant it was too late.

“That’s why I need your help, Sistine Fibel. To save this man, we need your exceptional latent mana capacity, a gift seen once in decades. No one else can do this.”

“W-What!? What’s going on!? I don’t understand any of this!”

But Sistine, on the verge of panic, could only shake her head and crouch down.

Her frantic mind refused to process Albert’s words. Unwilling to face the unbearable reality, she fled into a haze of chaotic denial.

“What am I supposed to do!? It’s impossible! If healing magic won’t work, there’s nothing we can do!”

“Calm down, Fibel.”

“What!? What is it!? This is too much! I can’t take it anymore! I’m done, done, done! Someone help…! Please, someone help—!”

The relentless onslaught of harsh realities had long since overwhelmed the heart of a fifteen-year-old girl, leaving her mind saturated and broken.

“Ugh… Father… Mother…! Rumia… help… aaaa—!”

Unable to bear it any longer, Sistine was about to scream in despair—

At that moment.

“Is crying and wailing what you should be doing right now?”

“—!?”

Not accusing, not scolding.

Albert’s cold, piercing words, stating an unyielding truth, stopped Sistine’s spiraling despair just at the edge.

“If you give up thinking here, you’ll likely regret it for the rest of your life. If you want to let this man die, go ahead and cry all you want. I don’t care. The undertaker can handle the rest.”

“……”

That’s right. This wasn’t the time to cry like a child.

She had to do something. Anything she could.

She had already failed to act once. She hadn’t done anything.

How could she keep doing nothing?

Slowly, Sistine’s sharp intellect began to return.

“There’s no need to feel ashamed, Fibel. For a sheltered young lady, your pathetic panic is perfectly reasonable. …It’s a shame. I thought this man’s presence would make rescuing the princess easier, but it seems I miscalculated. Oh well.”

Ignoring the now-silent Sistine, Albert turned his back on her.

If there was no hope of saving Glenn, there was no reason or time to linger here. With that cold judgment, Albert began walking toward the door for his next move.

“I’m going. I’ll bring your friend back. You handle the undertaker.”

“…P-Please… wait…”

Sistine wiped her tears with the back of her hand, muttering in a nasal voice.

Rumia. Re=L. There were so many things she needed to think about.

The weight of failing to protect Rumia out of fear still crushed her heart.

But right now—

“…I… hic… what… should I do…?”

She had to do what she could. She couldn’t let that resolve become a lie—she couldn’t allow it.

“Hmph…”

Albert paused, glancing at Sistine as if appraising her worth.

Though her face still showed deep psychological shock and turmoil, a faint strength was returning to her eyes.

She’d be useful, at least for now, Albert concluded.

“…I see. You’ve got some spine. No wonder Glenn keeps an eye on you.”

Albert’s lips curled slightly upward.

“We don’t have time, so I’ll be brief. As I said, standard healing magic—White Magic [Life Up]—won’t save him. The only chance is White Magic Ritual [Reviver], which amplifies and transfers the caster’s vitality to the target. But this ritual requires an immense amount of mana. I can’t do it alone.”

He continued.

“Fibel, let me use your mana. Form a temporary simplified servant contract to link our spiritual pathways and align your mana biorhythm with mine. I’ll handle the finer details of the spell.”

“U-Understood…”

“I’ll prepare the ritual now. In the meantime, try to stabilize your chaotic mental state and mana biorhythm as much as possible…”

Noticing something, Albert’s gaze shifted to Glenn on the bed.

“Tch… his breathing’s completely stopped. Pathetic.”

“N-No… Sensei…!”

Albert’s words threatened to plunge Sistine back into panic.

“Calm down. It’s just his breathing. If you’re a mage, sharpen your spiritual sight. His soul is still tethered to his body. But this is bad… the ritual isn’t ready yet.”

“W-What… what do I do…!?”

Ignoring Sistine’s distress, Albert grabbed Glenn’s neck.

“His pulse is weak but present. He needs respiratory support… Fibel, keep him going with artificial respiration until the ritual begins.”

With that blunt order, Albert pulled a knife from his pocket.

“《O primal force・flow through my blood・forge the path》”

Chanting the Black Magic spell [Blood Catalyze], he slit both wrists and used the dripping blood to swiftly draw a magic circle on the floor.

“Artificial respiration…!?”

“If his pulse stops too, add chest compression at a thirty-to-two ratio. If that fails, adjust a [Shock Bolt] spell to stimulate his heart directly. As a magic academy student, you should’ve learned that in basic medical magic classes. Do it.”

Albert spoke calmly, not slowing his work on the magic circle for a moment.

“B-But… I’ve never actually done it… what if I mess it up…?”

The weight of responsibility and lack of confidence made Sistine hesitate, but—

“Hurry, Fibel! There’s no time to be scared!”

Albert’s tone shifted abruptly from cold detachment to a sharp yell, making Sistine flinch.

His hands moved with astonishing skill as he constructed the ritual circle, betraying an urgency and desperation that contradicted his words and demeanor.

(This man… he’s desperately trying to save Sensei…)

Suppressing everything for the sake of saving him. Because it was necessary.

(That’s right, I can’t hesitate! I have to do this!)

If that’s what it took.

Steeling herself, Sistine approached Glenn, who lay limp on the bed. She bent down, bringing her face close to his.

Recalling the steps from her basic medical magic classes, she followed them carefully.

First, tilt his chin to open the airway. Keep your eyes on his chest.

Then, align mouth to mouth…

…Mouth to mouth. …Lips.

“…Nnh.”

Just before their lips met, Sistine froze for a fleeting moment.

Despite the dire situation, her cheeks inexplicably burned.

Shaking her head to dispel the inexplicable fluster, Sistine steeled herself.

(Sensei, please, come back…!)

With resolve, Sistine pressed her lips to Glenn’s.

For the next few minutes, until Albert’s ritual preparations were complete, Sistine followed her training to the letter, breathing life into Glenn with unwavering focus.

……………….

…………

…Clank.

Somewhere, the sound of metal scraping against metal echoed.

“…Ngh.”

That sound faintly stirred the edge of a consciousness wandering in the murky darkness, and Rumia slowly began to awaken.

“…Ugh… w-where… am I…?”

It was dim.

As her consciousness sharpened, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, gradually revealing the room and her own situation.

This seemed to be a large hall in some kind of facility.

The floor was inscribed with an elaborate pentagram magic circle, densely etched with runes.

The circle was connected by mana pathways to monolithic magical computation devices standing around it.

It seemed to be a place for performing some kind of ritual magic.

And then.

…Clank.

“……”

Her hands were bound by manacles attached to chains, and she was suspended from the ceiling at the center of a magic circle.

With both arms raised and fixed in place, her toes barely touched the floor, but her heels floated off the ground. In this state, there was nothing Rumia could do anymore.

(…I was attacked by Re=L and… lost consciousness…)

It seems Rumia was brought here while she was unconscious.

(Re=L… why… would she…?)

As Rumia began to grasp the situation she was in, a creeping anxiety started to crush her heart. That’s when it happened.

“…Looks like you’ve woken up.”

A young man’s voice echoed through the room.

Clack, clack, clack—the sound of someone’s footsteps approached.

“Sorry for handling you so roughly. But you’re absolutely necessary… for us siblings, you see…”

The figure that appeared before Rumia was a young man with blue hair, draped in a robe.

And, hiding behind him was—

“Re=L!”

Rumia couldn’t help but cry out.

Re=L was no longer wearing the academy uniform she had on earlier. Instead, she was dressed in the formal attire of an Imperial Court Mage—a long black robe.

This mage’s robe, highly resistant to magic, could actually be folded into the size of a die using compression magic, making it a convenient item to carry.

Re=L, always prepared for emergencies and never parting with it, was now wearing this robe purely for tactical reasons. But to Rumia, Re=L’s appearance felt like a definitive declaration of severance from them.

“Re=L… why? Why are you doing this…? Who are you…?”

“We’re members of the Researchers of Divine Wisdom.”

Answering in place of Re=L, who lowered her eyes and remained silent, was the blue-haired young man.

“The Researchers of Divine Wisdom…”

A mysterious magical society that had been in constant conflict with the imperial government since the dawn of the empire’s history. A group of the worst terrorists, said to be plotting world domination by mages.

Rumia knew that organization was targeting her.

If so… then surely, this time was the same.

“That said, we’re just the lowest of the low. We don’t know anything about the organization’s upper echelons. We’re disposable pawns… slaves, essentially.”

“‘We’…? You mean… Re=L too…?”

“That’s right.”

Rumia and the young man turned their gazes toward Re=L.

Re=L shrank further behind the young man, as if trying to escape Rumia’s eyes.

As if she wanted to flee from Rumia’s gaze.

“She was an exceptional ‘cleaner’ owned by the organization. ‘Assassin’ might be easier to understand. Due to various circumstances, she was under the protection of the Imperial Court Mage Corps.”

“…!”

Rumia was stunned by the shocking revelation for only a moment.

Quickly regaining her composure, she pressed the young man.

“You said ‘siblings,’ didn’t you? So you’re Re=L’s older brother… Why would you make Re=L do such things…?”

“…We had no choice.”

The young man lowered his eyes apologetically.

“As I said, we’re at the bottom of the organization… no better than slaves. When we were young, the organization took us in. I had some magical talent that was useful to them, so I was spared. But Re=L didn’t have any magical talent that could directly contribute to the organization…”

“That’s…”

“But she had a talent for combat. The organization noticed this and used my life as leverage to turn Re=L into a ‘cleaner.’ I worked on their magical research, and Re=L became an assassin… We had no choice but to obey. There was no other way for us to survive…”

“……”

Rumia lowered her eyes in pain at the bitter confession of the young man claiming to be Re=L’s brother.

Re=L, believing I was dead, miraculously managed to escape the organization and had been working with the Imperial Court Mage Corps until now… But when she learned I was alive, she resolved to return to the organization and fight for my sake… That’s all.”

Rumia had no words left to say.

The young man spoke lightly, but the path these siblings had walked must have been one of unimaginable hardship.

But still, she couldn’t forgive it.

She absolutely couldn’t forgive the Researchers of Divine Wisdom, an organization that toyed with and manipulated innocent people.

Rumia felt that conviction strongly.

“Give it up, Rumia Tingel. The ‘Sensei’ you’re probably relying on is already dead… Re=L killed him. No one’s coming to save you this time.”

Twitch. Re=L’s shoulders trembled. The usually sleepy, expressionless Re=L, for just that moment, lowered her eyes sadly, shrinking like a scolded child.

“Ah—!”

And with those cruel words from the young man, Rumia vividly recalled something she had been trying so hard not to think about until now.

Earlier, in the inn room, the bloodstained greatsword Re=L had been holding. Irrefutable proof that Re=L had taken someone’s life. The worst possible truth that could easily be inferred from that situation.

“It’s a lie… right?”

For just that moment, even the strong-willed Rumia couldn’t hide the crack in her heart.

In a fragile, pleading voice, Rumia whispered to Re=L.

“Re=L… you wouldn’t do something like that… right? It’s a lie… isn’t it? …Please… tell me it’s a lie… Re=L…”

But.

“…I’m sorry, Rumia… Glenn is… already…”

What came back was an empty murmur, devoid of any emotion.

From Re=L’s reaction, Rumia understood everything.

What Re=L was saying, what the young man was saying… it was, without a doubt, the truth.

Glenn… was no longer in this world.

“…Sen… sei…”

Tears welled up in the corners of Rumia’s eyes, large drops she could no longer hold back.

The strength drained from Rumia’s body, and ironically, the chains binding her hands above her head were what kept her upright.

For an ordinary girl, this would have been enough to break down into sobs and lose all composure.

But—

“……”

After a moment of stunned silence, Rumia said nothing, her tear-soaked eyes fixed straight on the young man.

Sensei is absolutely alive. Until I confirm his death with my own eyes, I won’t believe it.

Her eyes carried an unyielding, stubborn resolve.

“…I’m jealous. You’re a strong girl.”

Seeing Rumia’s resolute demeanor, the young man gave a faint, wistful smile.

“If only we had even a fraction of your strength, maybe…”

At that moment.

“Ho! So that girl is the rumored ‘Sympathetic Amplifier,’ eh? Well done!”

The door to the great hall swung open, and an older man strode in brazenly.

Rumia was shocked to recognize him.

“B-Burks-san!?”

Burks Blaumohn, the director of the Platinum Magic Research Institute.

Gone was the kindly old man aura he once had. Standing there was a man who seemed entirely different, his eyes gleaming with wild ambition and desire.

“Let’s get started, then. We’ll perform the spell to forcibly activate her ability! Leave it to me—I’m quite well-versed in these techniques!”

“Burks-san, why on earth…?”

Rumia’s face filled with raw disbelief.

“Why, you ask? Kukuku… What a naive girl. Dealing with the rigid fools in the empire’s upper ranks and ignorant brats like you is utterly exhausting.”

Rumia was at a loss for words, stunned by Burks’s drastic transformation.

“A superior mage like myself must aim for even higher ranks. That’s why I’ve abandoned the empire with all its noisy talk of ethics and the sanctity of life, and will join the Researchers of Divine Wisdom—with the success of a certain magical ritual using you as my offering! That’s all there is to it!”

“No… Burks-san, getting involved with the Researchers of Divine Wisdom… siding with such an evil organization—please, stop! Your remarkable talents shouldn’t be used in a place like that…!”

Rumia pleaded desperately.

But then.

Burks let out a chuckle, as if he found it all terribly amusing.

“…Burks-san?”

“Kukuku… This is rich. You really don’t know anything, do you? Could there be anything more comical, more delightful than this…!? Fuhahahahahaha!”

Before the dumbfounded Rumia, Burks laughed heartily for a while before suddenly speaking.

“Rumia Tingel, was it? The pitiful girl of royal blood, exiled and disinherited… Do you know why there is such an unnatural number of women in the imperial royal family?

“…?”

Rumia blinked in confusion.

It was true that the royal family had an abundance of women. For some reason, the vast majority of those born with royal blood were female. As a result, aside from the first ruler, nearly all who inherited the throne were women, making the Alzano Empire a nation traditionally ruled by a ‘queen.’

But why was this topic being brought up now? Rumia couldn’t understand.

Ignoring Rumia’s confusion, Burks continued.

“Among those of royal blood who manifest abilities… how many others do you suppose exist? Surely you don’t believe you’re the only one?”

“…What!?”

“The Researchers of Divine Wisdom, evil? Kukuku… If you ask me, your imperial royal family is far more evil and vile! It makes me sick! To think I once swore loyalty to such a cursed lineage—I want to carve myself to pieces!”

Rumia had no idea what Burks was talking about or what he knew.

She didn’t understand, but—

“The fate of an empire ruled by such a filthy-blooded queen is obvious… Don’t you think such a nation should be destroyed swiftly, with true superior mages—the Researchers of Divine Wisdom—taking control and managing the foolish masses?”

“Stop it.”

“!?”

Rumia’s words, filled with strong resolve, doused the mocking Burks like a bucket of cold water.

Her resolute, clear eyes pierced straight through him.

“Insult me all you want. But… I will never forgive you for speaking ill of my mother, who dedicates herself day after day to this country and its people.”

Perhaps it was the royal blood flowing through her.

Even bound in such a state, the dignity and grace Rumia naturally exuded overwhelmed Burks for a moment, making him falter.

But Burks quickly regained his composure and glared at Rumia.

“…I don’t like those eyes.”

It seemed he felt unbearable humiliation at being momentarily overpowered by a mere young girl.

With a menacing look, Burks approached the immobilized Rumia.

“It seems you need some ‘education’…”

Saying that, Burks suddenly grabbed the collar of Rumia’s uniform.

Rip.

He tore it downward in one swift motion.

“—!?”

Rumia gasped.

Her well-shaped chest, wrapped in undergarments, and her snow-white skin were exposed.

Before Rumia could even squirm in shame, Burks grabbed her slender neck with one hand and began to squeeze.

“Now… what kind of cries will you let out…? How long can you keep up that cheeky composure…? Hmm?”

“Gah… ah… ugh…”

Burks peered at Rumia’s pained expression with eyes full of sadistic pleasure…

“…Rumia!”

“No, Re=L! You mustn’t defy Burks-san!”

At that moment, as Re=L took a step forward to rush to Rumia’s side, the blue-haired young man grabbed her shoulder to stop her.

“B-but… Nii-san…! R-Rumia…!?”

“…No. Stay quiet. Can’t you listen to me?”

“…!”

With her brother’s firm words, Re=L could do nothing more.

Clenching her fists and trembling, she could only watch Rumia’s pained expression.

—But.

“Please, that’s enough of your games, Burks-sama.”

The one who saved Rumia was, surprisingly, an unexpected person.

Eleanor had returned to the room at some point.

With her arms crossed at her chest, she stood elegantly in the corner of the room, as always.

“Oh, you’re back, Eleanor-dono.”

Startled by Eleanor’s sudden return, Burks instinctively released Rumia’s neck.

Freed from the chokehold, Rumia coughed violently, gasping for air.

“Yes, just now. More importantly…”

Approaching the group with her usual alluring smile, Eleanor spoke.

“Please don’t handle the princess so roughly. A woman should be treated as gently as silk.”

Burks frowned, visibly irritated by Eleanor’s words, which dampened his fun.

“You’re awfully soft, Eleanor-dono. Look at this girl’s infuriating eyes. A woman with such insolent eyes needs to be thoroughly broken and subdued from the start. She must be made to understand with her body that she’s nothing more than a tool for us to use.”

“What’s wrong with her eyes? The princess is a wise lady. She wouldn’t be foolish enough to resist us in this situation.”

For some reason, Eleanor continued to speak in defense of Rumia.

Burks grew increasingly frustrated.

“Hah… Could it be, you’ve grown attached to this girl?”

“…Perish the thought. It’s a misunderstanding.”

Eleanor maintained her composed expression.

But Burks pressed on, as if he’d caught her in a trap.

“Hmph, no need to hide it. Come to think of it, you served the queen as a spy for many years, didn’t you? Even if it was a temporary master-servant relationship, it’s not surprising you’d feel some attachment to the queen’s daughter… Honestly, women are such creatures…”

“I have no particular attachment to the princess.”

Eleanor smiled faintly, as if to say, What a jest.

“The one to whom I swear true, heartfelt loyalty is our great Grandmaster, and him alone. The princess is merely a key to achieving our grand ambition—nothing more, nothing less. If the Grandmaster ordered it, I’d cut off her head right now and present it to you.”

“Oh? Then why are you so protective of the princess?”

Burks sneered, his expression condescending and knowing.

That’s when it happened.

“Well, how should I put it…”

Darkness.

“When I see men give in to their vulgar desires and toy with women, I—”

Darkness.

“—somehow can’t help but want to kill them.”

Eleanor smiled brightly.

—Darkness. —Deep darkness. —Abyssal darkness.

“I want to tear their limbs apart, carve their bodies into tiny pieces, and feed their entrails to sewer rats while they’re still alive—”

The darkness descended upon the entire area—

Shiver.

A sensation ran through the room, as if the temperature had plummeted below freezing.

“—!?”

In an instant, Re=L leapt away from Eleanor, putting distance between them. Breathing heavily, she crouched low, glaring at Eleanor with a mix of fear and wariness.

It wasn’t a conscious action. Re=L’s survival instincts, honed as an exceptional fighter, had reacted on reflex.

The room—dominated by the abyssal darkness that was Eleanor—had become so intense that it made Re=L instinctively fear for her life.

It wasn’t a visual darkness. It was a visionary darkness that appealed to the senses and the soul.

Yet, it was so dense and overwhelming that it inspired a suffocating sense of despair.

Demonic. A blasphemous presence, teetering on the edge of madness while retaining sanity, stood there.

Could a darkness enveloping a person be so dark, heavy, and deep? The souls of those present trembled with primal, instinctual fear.

—And then.

“…My apologies. Please forgive my rudeness.”

Eleanor bowed gracefully, elegantly.

Instantly, the tension in the air dissipated.

The darkness that had threatened to engulf the room—dissipated.

“W-Well… Eleanor-dono’s words do have some merit…”

Wiping cold sweat from his brow, Burks managed to squeeze out those words.

“An ability is influenced by the user’s mental state. If we harm her too much… it would be troublesome if it affected the ritual we’re about to perform…”

“I’m glad you understand. As expected, Burks-sama is a wise man…”

Kusu kusu kusu.

Eleanor’s chilling, hollow laughter echoed emptily through the room.