Epilogue: The Fading Flame, The Kindling Flame

After the demon, struck by Glenn’s magic bullet, vanished abruptly with a massive explosion.

In a world still smoldering with flames and heat—

“…”

Eve stood in a daze, utterly lost.

“…Eve.”

Glenn could only watch her back, unable to do more.

Eventually.

“Surprisingly… I don’t feel much at all.”

…Eve muttered softly. Her voice carrying a hollow tone.

“I killed my father… and even my sister, fake though she was… yet I feel completely fine. Well… they were traitors who needed to be stopped. …Maybe that’s just how it is.”

“…”

“…Ignite… it’s over.”

“…”

“But… it doesn’t matter. The family… it doesn’t matter. …Because what truly matters is what you do. How you live. Isn’t that right?”

“…”

“Glenn, don’t worry about me. …This was my will, my choice. The path I genuinely believe is right… I don’t have the slightest regret.”

“…”

“So… this is fine…”

“…”

“…This is…”

To Eve, who seemed to be convincing herself with her monologue.

Glenn quietly approached… and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Instantly, Eve’s body flinched and gave a small jump.

Then, it began to tremble faintly.

“I really… hate you… Why… why won’t you let me put up a strong front…?”

“…Eve.”

In no time, Eve’s voice grew wet with emotion.

Her sobs and sniffles quickly multiplied.

“…Hey… G-Glenn… it’s an order…”

“What?”

“…Don’t… look at my face…”

“…”

“My face right now… it’s a mess… from the burns…!”

The moment she squeezed those words from the depths of her throat.

Thud!

Eve clung to Glenn’s chest as if tackling him.

And then—

“Ah… ah, aaaaaaaaaaah!”

—Eve began to wail like a child.

“Waaaaaah! Ig-Ignite… aaaaaaaah! Hic, Sister! Sister…! I’m sorry! I’m so… sorry…! I… I…! Uwaaaaa…!”

“…That was tough, huh, Eve. …I’m sorry. And thank you…”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

Glenn let Eve cry as much as she needed, holding her close.

…Until her tears finally stopped.

…

Somewhere in Milano.

In a dim, deserted alley.

Scrape… scrape…

“Impossible… impossible, impossible, impossible…! Gah!? Hack!”

A man, his body hideously charred, crawled pathetically along the ground.

It was Lord Ignite. He had reverted to human form.

Earlier, after being pierced by Glenn’s magic bullet, as his body and power as a demon began to collapse, Lord Ignite abandoned all of it. In the chaos of the explosion, he managed to escape the scene.

“What was that…? That bullet…! Geh, cough, hack!?”

But—that was all.

His wounds wouldn’t heal. It felt as though his very soul, his fundamental existence, had been deeply shredded. He could sense the little life he had left slipping away from his body.

—There was no saving him. He was going to die.

That chilling premonition gnawed at Lord Ignite’s body.

“N-No… no, no, no…!”

Lord Ignite thrashed in a frenzy, but his body refused to obey.

“Why… why me…!? I, who should stand at the pinnacle… why am I in such a pathetic… disgraceful state…!?”

Something was wrong. Everything was wrong. This was madness.

A world where he couldn’t stand at the top was fundamentally flawed.

“I did nothing wrong… I was always right… so why…? I’m not at fault… not at fault… whose fault is it? Who, who, who—?”

As Lord Ignite’s life mercilessly burned out.

“Oh, found you! Thank goodness, you’re alive! My beloved lord!”

An absurdly cheerful girl’s voice echoed through the alley.

When Lord Ignite turned his gaze, Illia stood at the far end of the alley.

She stared at him, grinning, in an almost gleeful mood.

“Illia…”

“Wow, you’ve been through hell, huh!? That’d normally kill anyone instantly, you know? But surviving even that—truly worthy of my beloved lord, huh?”

Illia approached Lord Ignite with light, carefree steps.

Lord Ignite reached out a charred hand, as if pleading for help…

“I-Illia… s-save me… hurry…!”

But.

“Phew, I’m so glad there’s still some left for me.”

Smack! Illia swatted Lord Ignite’s outstretched hand aside with a smile.

Crumble! His charred arm broke apart, falling to pieces.

“Aaaagh!? I-Illia!? Y-You…! What are you…?”

Naturally, Lord Ignite let out a scream of protest.

Unfazed, Illia flipped him onto his back with her foot and stepped on him.

“Gah!?”

“To be honest, I wanted to wait a bit longer. I wanted to bring you crashing down at the absolute peak of your life.

That’s why I’ve been groveling at your feet all this time, my beloved lord. But you peaked too soon and ruined everything. …Well, I won’t be picky about it. Heh heh heh…”

A chill ran through him.

Lord Ignite looked into Illia’s eyes and shuddered.

Illia had transformed. Her eyes were an abyss—too dark to see anything.

What kind of despair could create such a gaze…?

Before the speechless Lord Ignite, Illia seemed genuinely delighted, overjoyed.

Like an innocent child finally given a long-awaited toy after years of patience… that was the vibe she gave off.

“Let me tell you an old story.”

Without warning, Illia began speaking, brimming with excitement.

“Once upon a time, in a rotten household, there was a rotten father and two pitiful sisters.

The younger sister was utterly useless and was always brutally tormented by the rotten father. Apparently, he was deeply dissatisfied that, despite inheriting his excellent blood, she couldn’t even serve as a substitute for her sister.

The older sister always tried desperately to protect the younger one, but the father was too strong, too terrifying, and she couldn’t fully shield her.

The older sister, who wasn’t at fault at all, always apologized to the younger one, saying, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’”

“W-What…?”

“Eventually, the rotten father decided the younger sister was truly useless and chose to dispose of her. Apparently, her existence tarnished the family’s status or reputation or something.

The younger sister was burned by the father’s magic but survived, barely clinging to life.

The older sister, crying, secretly saved her and smuggled her to a trusted, distant household, far from the father’s reach.

With a new face and a new name, the younger sister’s new life began.

But the younger sister was deeply grateful to the older sister who had always protected her. She wanted to someday help her beloved sister, to support her… That was her sole drive as she trained in magic under her new identity. Fortunately, while she had no talent for flame magic, she had a gift for illusion magic.

Apparently, during that time, a ‘new younger sister’ was brought into the main household, but honestly, she didn’t care. She felt nothing for her. Truly, it didn’t matter at all.

All that mattered to her was her older sister.

But just when the younger sister had finally become capable… when she could finally reunite with her sister… even if not as sisters, at least as a subordinate by her side… that was when it happened.

That rotten father killed the older sister too. Apparently, since she could no longer use magic, he planned to ‘remake’ her or something. Haha, what a joke. Die already.”

“…Ugh… ah… aah…?”

“The younger sister snapped. Something human inside her broke that day. She swore to kill that rotten father someday. Pathetically. Disgracefully.

That became her true wish, her only desire—nothing else mattered.

But the rotten father had somehow ceased being human, and as a mere human, the younger sister lacked the means to kill him. So, what could she do?

To seize her chance, she decided to get close to the rotten father she despised.

Repeatedly convincing herself, ‘My beloved lord,’ over and over and over.”

Crunch.

Illia stomped on Lord Ignite’s face.

“That’s the really, truly, incredibly boring old story… So, what do you think? Hmm? My beloved lord…”

“N-No… it can’t be… you…!?”

Before the trembling Lord Ignite.

Illia snapped her fingers with a sharp clap.

She dispelled the [Moonlit Cradle] she had cast on herself. The illusion, sustained for years until it had nearly become reality, was finally undone.

Illia’s appearance—changed.

Her hair turned a vivid crimson, like flames. The irises of her eyes became a striking purple blaze.

Yet, half her body, half her face, was hideously scarred and burned—

“Aaaaaaah!? Y-You… you’re… A-Ari, Arie—!”

Slash! Illia drew a dagger before the horrified Lord Ignite.

She drew it with a radiant smile.

“‘If you believe strongly and push forward, your wish will surely come true someday.’”

“Hii!?”

“Hmm, hmm. I see, I see, indeed! My wish has come true!”

And then—

“Gyaaah!? Gaaaaaah!? Hiiigyaaaaah!? S-Stop, gaaah!? Hiiiu!? A-Ah, help… aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!? Gyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—…?”

—In a deserted alley.

Someone’s pitiful, wretched screams and dying wails. Someone’s dark, gleeful laughter. The dull sound of sharp metal repeatedly piercing flesh echoed endlessly—

Luvaphos Holy Calendar 1853, Gram’s Month, 13th—7:11 AM.

The upheaval later known as ‘The Hour and a Half of Flame’ came to an end when Eve Distrei, temporary commander of the queen’s forces, outmaneuvered a force ten times larger with her exceptional tactical acumen and personally defeated the leader of the coup, Lord Azel le Ignite.

Simultaneously with Lord Ignite’s defeat, the coup forces surrendered en masse.

All of them uniformly testified, “We don’t understand why we followed Lord Ignite’s orders and turned our blades against Her Majesty.”

But treason against the queen was still treason. It was a grave crime worthy of the death penalty.

Overwhelmed by guilt, many soldiers attempted to atone through suicide.

For a time, the former coup forces fell into utter chaos.

“Listen well. Now is not the time to atone through death.”

“Such atonement, I, Alicia VII, will never accept.”

“If you wish to atone—then please, use your lives to forge a future.”

Had Queen Alicia VII not publicly declared a ‘pardon’ through amplified magic, the death toll would likely have been even higher.

Under Alicia VII’s orders, the imprisoned imperial officials and foreign leaders were released one after another.

In the subsequent aftermath—Alicia VII, working with the freed Cardinal Bishop Fais Cardis, managed to avert the crisis of global division and the outbreak of a great war.

However, the scars left by this upheaval were immeasurably deep.

Over a thousand imperial soldiers were killed or injured in the fratricidal conflict.

The free city of Milano was grievously damaged by the shockwaves of the battle.

The countermeasures against the《Root》and the evil god’s kin, still multiplying underground, had made no progress. The evacuation of Milano’s citizens remained incomplete.

The time until the evil god’s descent had been drastically reduced by the efforts to handle this upheaval.

Naturally, the world’s nations were in a state of utter chaos. No one knew when order would be restored.

But there was no choice but to move forward. To keep walking.

Alicia VII tirelessly searched for a path ahead.

For humanity’s remaining time was far too short—

And then—

The free city of Milano—Tirika Faria Cathedral.

With the aftermath of the upheaval still unresolved, Alicia VII and the imperial leadership remained stationed at this cathedral to handle the situation.

“Yo.”

Glenn appeared before Eve, who was walking down a corridor with an armful of documents.

“…What?”

“Just checking on you.”

“Hmph… you’ve got too much free time.”

Eve was still serving as the temporary commander of the accompanying imperial forces.

With no other officers available to take over, the queen herself had personally requested her to continue, bowing her head.

Eve had accepted… and was now swamped with handling the military-related aftermath of the upheaval.

She was currently a chiliarch—a commander of a thousand.

“…How’re you holding up?”

“I’m fine. My physical wounds have healed. My face… I thought it’d stay like that forever, but thankfully, it’s fully recovered. The mana in my left hand is back too…”

“No, I mean, it’s great that you’re physically fine, but… you know… you went through a lot this time. Don’t push yourself too hard…”

As Glenn stammered out his concern.

“Huh? What? You’re worried about that?”

“Huh? N-No, not really…”

Oh, crap. This is gonna turn into her yelling at me for meddling, isn’t it…? Glenn braced himself.

“Thanks.”

Surprisingly, Eve gave a soft, faint smile.

“…Eve?”

“I’m okay. Of course, there’s still a lot I haven’t fully processed… but I’m okay. I won’t waver anymore.”

“Got it.”

If Eve could smile and say that, Glenn had nothing more to say.

“More importantly, what about you?”

“Huh? Me?”

“Yeah, you. Are you properly taking care of your students?”

“I am! I’m getting ready to head back to Fejite with them…”

“That’s not what I mean. The students had their Magic Festival ruined, didn’t they? Are you following up with them properly?”

“I said I’m handling it!”

“Are you sure? Sistine, especially—hasn’t she been really down about it?”

“I told you, it’s fine… geez, don’t you trust me!?”

“Well… you do have a reputation as a good-for-nothing, you know.”

“Oi, That’s harsh.”

“I mean, you’ve caused me all sorts of trouble and broken plenty of things.”

“Don’t say it in a way that invites misunderstandings…”

Glenn turned away, sulking.

Eve let out a stifled chuckle. A gentle atmosphere settled over them.

(She’s… softened a bit, hasn’t she?)

Glenn stole a glance at Eve’s expression, thinking to himself.

He didn’t know what path Eve would choose to walk from here.

Would she return to the military, which was in dire need of personnel amid the chaos?

Or perhaps go back to the academy?

Either way, it would be the path Eve herself desired and believed to be right.

(Well, I’ll cheer her on. With everything I’ve got…)

It was unlike him, but such thoughts crossed Glenn’s mind—at that very moment.

“Eve. So this is where you were.”

—Rustle.

There, Albert appeared.

The bandage still covering his right eye had yet to be removed.

Though his appearance was painful to see, his steady demeanor hardly betrayed any sense of injury.

“Albert!?”

Glenn rushed toward Albert.

“…Glenn, you’re here too.”

“I heard about it. Your injury—”

“My condition doesn’t matter. We have an emergency.”

“Huh?”

“…Glenn, you come too. Her Majesty trusts you deeply, and sooner or later, you’d find out anyway.”

“H-hey, wait a sec… What’s going on? What happened?”

Without responding, Albert turned on his heel and strode off quickly.

Unclear on what was happening, Glenn and Eve exchanged glances and had no choice but to follow him.

—At the temporary government office set up within the cathedral.

Murmur. Murmur. Murmur.

Gathered there were the key figures of the imperial government stationed in Milano.

Naturally, Christoph and Bernard were among them.

And at the center of it all stood Her Majesty, Queen Alicia VII, with a grave expression.

At her feet—

“Haa… haa… huff… huff…”

A mage from the Imperial Court Mage Corps knelt.

He had evidently just rushed from the empire to Milano, his breathing ragged and labored.

And—his entire body was in a pitiful, tattered state.

His hair, flamboyantly dyed gold and red, was hardly befitting a military man.

Glenn recognized the young man.

“That guy… Crow Ogham!? From the Imperial Court Mage Corps’ First Division!?”

“Glenn, shh! It looks like he’s about to speak.”

Eve silenced Glenn.

Before them, Queen Alicia VII solemnly opened her mouth.

“…Please, repeat your report.”

Though her expression was resolute, the queen’s face had gone utterly pale.

Even when Lord Ignite had staged his coup, she hadn’t looked this shaken.

At the queen’s prompting,

The young man who had rushed to deliver the report—Crow Ogham—trembled, tears in his eyes as he spoke.

“…I… report…! The capital… the capital has fallen…!”

“…Huh?”

Glenn let out a dumbfounded sound.

“……”

Even Eve could only stand there, stunned.

A ripple of unease.

A surreal sense of shock and confusion gripped the room.

“I’m so sorry! The Imperial Army’s Capital Defense Battalion has been routed…!”

“…Who is the enemy? To breach the capital’s defenses, they must have considerable forces.”

To the queen’s quiet question,

“The enemy is—Elliot…”

Crow delivered a staggering answer to everyone present.

“The enemy is《The Sword Princess》Elliot Haven!!!”

Luvaphos Holy Calendar, Year 1853, 16th of Gram’s Month.

As the time until the descent of the evil god drew ever closer—

The Alzano Empire was inexorably drawn into a vortex of further chaos and upheaval.