Arc 9, Part 42: "On Breaking a Heart"

—God, Buddha, Odo Ragna. I swear, for the rest of my life, I will never hug a stuffed animal again.

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"————"

The moment his jaw was kicked up toward his knees, Roy Alphard’s thoughts raced like a lightning strike. Strange, incomprehensible, bizarre, swirling doubts, suspicion, questions, something is wrong, a great upheaval, an error, mysterious, an incident, not right, injustice, confusion, doubt, doubt-doubt-doubt-doubt-doubt-doubt—

"—Die."

Ram did not miss the opening. Having somehow caught Roy off guard while he was consumed by those doubts, she struck. Her slender white fingers lunged forward, slamming a throat-lock into Roy’s upturned neck. Nausea welled up and his breathing was cut off; pain and suffocation assaulted Roy’s small frame. But the true terror of Ram lay in her lack of "cuteness"—she did not loosen her grip for a second.

"Fura."

A blade of wind manifested between the hand gripping his windpipe and his skin. The sharp edge caught Roy’s slender neck head-on with nowhere to run, and without mercy, Roy’s head was severed from his torso—

"—Not gonna happen, see!"

In that instant, the wind slash tore through, and blood sprayed as if Roy’s neck had exploded. However, it did not reach the life of the boy who was currently replicating the "Carnivore" Beri Hainerga—a man possessed of a hide so tough that not one of the thousand swords drawn by guards to capture the heinous criminal could pierce it.

"————"

Ram’s eyes widened at the unexpected result. In that split second, Roy used the position she was in—having lunged for his throat—to drag her with him, instantly shifting to the sky above the battlefield. It was the teleportation power of "The Leaper" Dorkel. "The Leaper" was a destroyer of order who had one day suddenly gained an extraordinary ability through a divine revelation from Odo Ragna, using that power to assassinate numerous figures of authority. There was no omen to the teleportation; Roy intended to overpower the stiffened Ram by force and use the opening to size up his prey on the battlefield—

"El Fura!"

"—Uhyee, you’re serious!?"

Without a moment's hesitation, a blast of wind magic was fired into his gut, causing Roy to cry out in genuine admiration. Undoubtedly, the teleportation must have been outside Ram’s expectations. Yet, she processed the shock of failing to decapitate him and the surprise of the teleportation in an instant, launching an immediate counterattack. What guts! What fortitude!

"Nice one!"

Even that wind blade couldn't pierce the "Carnivore’s" hide. However, he wanted to praise her decisiveness and initiative. Thus, with feelings of praise, he offered a return gift: a punch from "Fist King" Neiji Lockhart. A single blow from the "Fist King," who had crushed the heads of every powerhouse on the Gladiator Island, would surely turn Ram’s delicate body into a mangled mess—and then she vanished.

"Did you lose sight of Ram? What useless eyes you have."

A sudden voice. Ram’s presence, which should have vanished, appeared behind him. Roy reflexively threw a "Fist King" strike without looking, but hit only air. As if by magic, her presence moved above his head, and he was struck by a descending kick to the medulla oblongata, falling headfirst toward the ground—falling, falling, falling—

"Ah, how beautiful."

While falling toward the ground on his back, Roy didn't even try to take a defensive stance. He was utterly entranced by the sight above him—the girl with her skirt fluttering and her peach-colored hair flowing elegantly. Roy crashed defenselessly into the dirt; the impact from his back shot through to his stomach, and pain pierced his entire body, but he didn't care.

—"Carnivore" x "Leaper" x "Fist King."

Roy was move to tears by the brilliance of Ram’s power, technique, and spirit, which had perfectly handled the cream of the crop among the "outliers" Gluttony had consumed. Deciding he had to show off his own good points as well, Roy kicked his legs and stood up, crouching low to gather strength to spring back at Ram. Because—

"When it comes to hospitality, you’ve gotta give it your absolute all, pour everything you’ve got into the response! Otherwise, you can’t really call it love, right!?"

"—That way of thinking is exactly like something I’ve heard somewhere else, and I absolutely hate it."

But before Roy could leap back into the air, a ferocious roar assaulted him from the side. The roar was accompanied by sharp beast claws and an explosive rushing force. With twisted horns and a massive body, supported by limbs that looked too slender for its frame as it galloped gracefully across the earth—it was the synonym for ferocity and evil known as the "Black King of the Forest"—

"————!!" "Hyah, a Guiltylow!!"

A claw strike swung down toward the cheering Roy. Roy instantly countered using the power of "Snow Eater" Tisslo. A body of extraordinary proportions, legendary for stopping an avalanche single-handedly, caught the mabeast’s descending forearms head-on—first the right, then the left—locking into a grapple. He put his spirit into it, intending to twist the Guiltylow’s legs off—but the moment he tried, he slid under the mabeast’s belly and locked eyes with a pair of light-crimson eyes holding a staff.

"Seriously, the best—"

"Fura."

A wind bullet he wasn't even allowed to finish speaking for hit him in the forehead, and he was blown away by the Guiltylow’s tail-swipe. Bouncing back significantly, Roy slid across the ground on his toes before looking up. Behind Ram, who held her staff ready, the girl Meili—clinging to the Guiltylow’s back—pointed her slender finger at Roy—no, behind Roy—and screamed.

"Go get him, my little Black Shadow Dogs!!" "「————!」"

In response to Meili’s high-pitched voice, countless red points of light lunged fiercely at Roy. They were the crimson eyes of black dogs baring ferocious fangs to tear into their prey—the pack of Ulgarms, mabeasts harboring curses and magical power far beyond their size. The pack of demon dogs showed no mercy, sinking their fangs into the body of "Gluttony" and tearing at him. Ironically, the end of Roy Alphard, the man who claimed the name "Evil Eater," seemed destined to be a gruesome meal for mabeasts—

"Aaaahhh-aaaaahhh—"

The movements of those mabeasts froze at the sudden singing voice resonating from Roy’s throat. Roy gently stroked the head of one of the frozen hounds that was currently biting into his own neck—and immediately after, the blood spraying from his wounds turned into blades, writhing and slashing, skewering the mabeasts who couldn't escape, forcing them to let out their death cries.

"There we go."

Slowly picking himself up, Roy stood to reveal his full form. The bite wounds from the demon dogs were carved all over Roy’s body, and the blood flowing from them became shimmering blades of light. The pack of black dogs was left hanging from them like fruit on a branch, reduced to corpses.

A dream collaboration between the "Tragic Poet" Nota, who traveled the lands singing anti-government songs, and the mage "Blood-Tear Oni" Advan, who could only manipulate his own blood. Furthermore, using the mana remaining in the corpses of the dead mabeasts, he realized the magical technique of "Rainbow Illusionist" Matokurima Joradoon, who had plotted the overthrow of the Holy Kingdom. Rainbow-colored butterflies emerged from the corpses-turned-pupae and began to flutter around Roy. One butterfly emerged for every corpse, fluttering, fluttering, fluttering—

"Ta-da!"

—"Snow Eater" x "Tragic Poet" x "Blood-Tear Oni" x "Rainbow Illusionist."

Roy, attended by countless rainbow butterflies, adorned his grand stage with a modicum of praise for Ram and the others, who had provided such a truly, truly sweet reception. However, Ram and Meili both sharpened their gazes and attitudes, making their hostility plain.

"Yeah, yeah, that was amazing! That perfect coordination just now! It gave me chills. Since when did you two get so close? I guess your bond deepened during that journey across the sand sea we don't know about? Ram-san and Meili-san, you’re both so mean."

"Stop talking to me so casually while looking so blood-soaked and pathetic. Exchanging words with a deviant makes Ram’s little bird-heart feel like it’s going to burst with anxiety."

"A bird-heart! Ah, I really respect how you can say that about yourself. I can’t stop being excited to see what kind of preparations are going to catch fire next!"

Clapping his hands, Roy smoothly retracted the blood blades into his body. As the mabeast corpses fell with a thud, Roy coagulated the blood from his bite wounds, quickly stopping the bleeding, and exhaled in ecstasy. It seemed his sincere feelings hadn't reached them, but his sense of praise was genuine. Unrequited love is painful. However, he wanted to cherish the single fact that Ram and the others were fighting harder than he had even hoped for.

"That aside, though."

Putting his affection for Ram and the others to the side, Roy speculated on the truth behind the inexplicable phenomenon that had occurred during the last dozen seconds of combat—that it was closely related to the vanished "Divine Dragon." He was truly, truly surprised. After all, that massive "Divine Dragon" was nowhere to be seen on the battlefield.

"Probably the same trick as when the Helmet-Uncle and the Shinobi-Sister disappeared, and Ram-san and the others popped up... I think it’s Clind-san, but it feels like an Authority."

The vanished Al and Yae, and the "Divine Dragon." Furthermore, the increased number of enemies and Ram’s presence appearing and disappearing matched the image of Clind’s special skills within his "Memories." However, based on Roy’s own knowledge independent of "Memories," the possibility was that this wasn't an individual's extraordinary ability or a Blessing of a different nature, but an Authority. In that case, it would mean Clind was the equivalent of the only vacant seat: "Pride."

"Well, I guess the people who are gone don't matter right now."

Not just the "Divine Dragon," but Clind and Roswaal were also missing from the battlefield. Clind’s true strength was unknown, but if he was an Authority user, he would at least be a viable combatant. A tag-team of Roswaal and Clind engaging the "Divine Dragon" in a large-scale battle—perhaps they changed the battlefield so the damage wouldn't affect the surroundings. That was likely the background situation. In any case, if they had vanished from the battlefield, the chance for that disappearing magic trick to be used again wouldn't come. Therefore, enjoying the hospitality of the ladies before him took priority over the heartless people who had vanished.

"Nice, nice, humans are so great."

The method used to block his "Eclipse," the preparation of nameless mabeasts to be eaten—in fact, every single element that made up this battlefield was a collection of schemes prepared to trap and kill Roy and his kin. The advance preparation to face them—that is to say, the "seasoning," the very spirit of hospitality. Giving one's all to host. —Because that is what it means to break one's heart for another.

"If that’s the case, it would be rude to your love-filled consideration if I didn't respond with an appropriate dress code!"

"—. What are you planning?"

Ram sensitively perceived the change in Roy, the one being welcomed, and furrowed her well-shaped brows. To the beautiful maid displaying her vigilance, Roy simply shook his head, saying, "No, no."

A total war—yes, this was a battle worthy of that name, a true final reckoning. The Royal Selection Mixed Force—an enemy camp that Natsuki Subaru would have probably named the "Al-de-Busters"—had prepared their hospitality perfectly. Everyone had eyes set with the resolve to squeeze out every bit of their wisdom and hidden strength to exert their true value, fighting to the death until the very end. That wasn't just true for Ram and the others, but for every single combatant thrown into the fray. For Roy Alphard, this was a peak moment where he wanted to give everyone a perfect score and a gold star. The only flaw preventing that perfect score wasn't with the opponents. —It was here.

"————"

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy saw the red-haired man—Heinkel—left behind on the same battlefield as Roy, crouching pathetically while blood dripped from his nose.

From a "Gluttony" perspective, Roy’s evaluation of Heinkel wasn't actually that bad. His way of living—tied up in knots of his own making, harboring a dark anguish he could never seemingly confess—had a muddy bitterness that only he could produce, which held interest as a delicacy. However, that was based on the premise that he didn't interfere with the aroma or appearance of the main dish. Currently, Heinkel had no redeeming qualities even from a "Gluttony" perspective.

"No matter how luxurious the dinner party, it’s ruined if a plate of garbage is mixed in."

In a battlefield where everyone was uniting to clash life against life, having a single factor mixed in that could ruin it was unbearable, even for an "Evil Eater." Therefore—

"Uncle, stop moping around and let’s get moving!!"

"Wh—you, Sin Archbishop...!"

At Roy’s sudden loud voice, the bloody-faced Heinkel looked up. When their eyes met and he saw those blue eyes wavering unnaturally, Roy found it comical. It was a look as if he were clinging to something. If he had even a shred of camaraderie or a desire to rely on Roy, seeking that from a Sin Archbishop was pushing the limits of shamelessness. That boundless unsightly nature was, in a sense, irreplaceable, but right now, it was simply a nuisance.

"—Should I just release you from your burden, Uncle?"

He wouldn't save him. He wouldn't abandon him. Roy simply grinned and presented Heinkel with a third option.

"————"

The proposal certainly reached Heinkel, who stared with wide eyes. Roy didn't know the details of how important the thing he called a "burden" was to Heinkel. But surely, it was something more important than his own life or death. Heinkel saw and knew that Roy had the means to take it away. He knew that Roy’s words weren't a mere threat, but an executable option. Therefore—

"That’s the spirit."

At the change in the man’s expression as he gritted his teeth, Roy’s heart throbbed with genuine joy. As if responding to the surge in Roy’s emotions, the rainbow butterflies began to dance as if in courtship. As the rainbow scales began to make the sky sparkle, Roy stuck out his tongue and laughed. —Now, in the truest sense, the total war could begin.

"I want to be filled, yet I don't want to be filled. —Life is surprisingly deep in flavor."

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—God, Buddha, Odo Ragna. I swear, for the rest of my life, I will never use a needle and thread again.

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"Gueh...!"

Struck by a sandwiching impact to his back and chest, Heinkel collapsed helplessly. Flum and Grasis—the twin granddaughters of Carol and Grimm, the long-serving attendants of the Astrea family—had been trained in the "Flow Method." Their kicks were lethal weapons that ignored their youthful appearance.

"Ough, off, ouegh."

He hasn't had a proper meal since the end of the war in the Vollachian Empire. Gastric juices were squeezed out of his empty stomach, and Heinkel fell pathetically to his knees on the ground.

"「————」"

His cheeks twisted in self-derision at Flum and Grasis, who looked down coldly at him. Even so, Heinkel was the current head of the Astrea family. He wondered how the daughters of the Remendis family, who were supposed to swear loyalty to him, could look at him with such irreverence.

"Our loyalty is pledged to the Young Master." "The Family Head stabbed the previous Master."

At the sharpness of the twins' reply, Heinkel fell silent, unable to even utter a word of resentment. Both were undeniable truths, reasons persuasive enough for them to hate and view Heinkel as an enemy. The former constantly tormented Heinkel, and the latter was a new sin that had come to torture him; they weighed down on his entire body like lead weights. Even so—

"I can't die..."

The single phrase crushed between his molars could be taken in two ways. —That he couldn't afford to die even after being beaten this much, or that he wouldn't die despite being beaten this much. And Heinkel himself didn't know which one he meant when he muttered it.

"Gu, ugh!"

The twins showed no mercy to the unstable Heinkel. They had no hesitation. The limbs of the girls, who circulated the "Flow Method" through their entire bodies, were tempered to a strength comparable to steel; being bombarded by their rapid-fire strikes was like being exposed to a heavy rain of iron. Up, down, left, right, front, and back—Flum and Grasis attacked with a perfectly paired coordination, and Heinkel could do nothing but stay on the defensive, protecting his vitals with his sword while being pummeled.

—The "Flow Method." Come to think of it, Heinkel had never been able to master that properly either. It was a combat technique that many first-class swordsmen and warriors performed unconsciously. Even when taught carefully and logically, Heinkel could never refine it for practical use. Flum and Grasis were only twelve years old, weren't they? Despite spending more than double their age in years, Heinkel’s "Flow Method" was nowhere near theirs. If he could have just given up on it as a lack of talent, would even one of Heinkel’s hundred agonies have been lessened?

"Dammit...!"

The twins avoided his sword strike, swung as a feint, with a coordinated movement signaled only by a glance. They accurately saw through his half-hearted technique and pierced his vitals from his elbows to his armpits and neck. His bones creaked, and drops of blood spilled from his mouth, which had previously only yielded gastric juice. The moment he reflexively looked down, the twins performed a backflip as if they had been waiting for it, kicking him squarely in the face.

"Ga—!"

Reeling back, Heinkel fell straight backward and hit the back of his head hard. His vision flickered, and while hearing a distant ringing in his ears, he forced his consciousness back just as it was about to fade. Hurriedly picking himself up, Heinkel leveled his sword and glared forward. Before him, the twins landed side by side after their flip, neatly brushing their skirts before looking up. —In their intersecting gazes, Heinkel saw a faint trace of bewilderment in the two of them.

"————"

Most likely, the source of the sisters' bewilderment was the fact that Heinkel was still standing. In terms of time, it had only been a dozen or so seconds, but in that short span, Heinkel was a wreck. His clothes were covered in mud, and his face, stubbled with an unkempt beard, was heavily stained by the blood dripping from his nose. However, Heinkel did not fall. His consciousness did not fade, and he kept his eyes open. From the feedback of their strikes, Flum and the other found this unbelievable.

"Haa, haa...!"

But sadly, a durability that merely surprised children was nothing to boast about. The tip of the sword he pointed at the two was trembling; Heinkel’s bluff was obvious to anyone. The battle was already as good as decided—no, it wasn't even a battle to begin with. Since it wasn't a battle, victory or defeat wouldn't even be determined. It wasn't at the stage of competing for victory.

"Even, so...!"

He couldn't afford to fall. He had to endure. If he fell here, what had he come all this way for? Why had he stabbed his father, Wilhelm van Astrea? It would all become meaningless. If he kept enduring, a sliver of hope would remain. Surely, a light would appear. Whether it was Al or the "Divine Dragon," or perhaps Yae. At worst, even the Sin Archbishop would do. Someone would break through the battle situation and bring Heinkel’s hope—it was then.

"Uncle, stop moping around and let’s get moving!!"

Suddenly, a voice tore through the battlefield, and Heinkel snapped his head up. He only realized it once he focused. The massive body of the "Divine Dragon" was nowhere on the battlefield. In a battlefield where not only Al and Yae but also the "Divine Dragon" had vanished, the only ones left on this side were Heinkel and—

"Wh—you, Sin Archbishop...!"

On the other side, facing his own enemies, was Roy Alphard. Just when had it become like this? While piling disappointment upon himself for being so oblivious to his surroundings, Heinkel tried to gauge Roy’s intention in calling out to him. To be honest, he thought he must be out of his mind to even consider cooperating with a Sin Archbishop. However, in the Vollachian Empire, Natsuki Subaru, Emilia’s knight, had apparently had "Gluttony" under his command. If he thought of it as the same thing, he could force himself to swallow his intense revulsion.

He had gone through the trouble of escaping the Prison Tower. Even a Sin Archbishop wouldn't want to die. Even if he was a loathsome opponent, if their goals were the same, there might be room to join hands—

"—Should I just release you from your burden, Uncle?"

However, the words that followed flatly betrayed Heinkel’s expectations.

"————"

It wasn't a proposal for assistance, nor a plea for help. It was a terribly misplaced and selfish remark. What on earth was he thinking? Did he understand the current situation? Al, who could force a path open with mysterious power, was gone. The "Divine Dragon," the strongest living being, was gone. Yae, a master of tricks and harassment, was gone. There was no one. Here, there was only the weak, brittle, and powerless Heinkel, and the foul-hearted criminal Roy. What was the point of creating a rift between them? —No, he hadn't created a rift. The rift was already there. An unbridgeable gap, a cliff that couldn't be leaped over, an absolute, isolated hole existed, and that fact had simply become clear now. And what of it? What about what he said? What about the meaning of what he said? What should Heinkel do, now that he understood? —Release Heinkel from his burden? This burden, which had already fused with Heinkel’s soul?

—That was unforgivable, and he would not allow it.

"That’s the spirit."

That voice, which Roy uttered with genuine amusement, did not reach Heinkel’s ears. As Heinkel stood up with a swaying, ghost-like movement, Flum and Grasis, facing him, tightened their expressions slightly before exchanging a silent glance and nodding to each other. And then—

"Master, prepare yourself." "We’re putting everything into this."

Perhaps seeing that half-hearted rapid strikes were counterproductive, he felt the twins' focus sharpen. As declared, a full-power strike was coming. Immediately after sensing this, Flum and Grasis kicked off the ground and lunged straight for Heinkel. —No, not straight.

"「Ryah!」"

Matching their voices and movements, the twins gouged out the earth with a kick, sending it flying toward him. The gouged-out earth approached, filling his field of vision. Heinkel split it in two with a swing of his sword. It wasn't a person, nor a life. If it was just an object, Heinkel had no hesitation in cutting it. However, beyond the severed earth, Flum and the other were not in his opened field of vision. Instead, the twins flanked Heinkel from both sides and thrust a strike—one that had gained the maximum acceleration thus far—mercilessly into both of Heinkel’s sides.

"—Go."

Without exaggeration, it was a full-power blow where the twins' fists seemed to sink into Heinkel up to their wrists. Heinkel’s ribs were shattered, and the impact reached the internal organs housed within. He sprayed a massive amount of blood from his mouth as it welled up with terrifying force, and Heinkel nearly lost consciousness. But he didn't black out. He held his ground. Not only did he hold his ground—he gritted his teeth, twisted his body, and forcibly grabbed the arms of the sisters that were piercing him.

"—Ah." "This is bad."

Flum and Grasis grimaced at the pain of their wrists being squeezed. The two then proceeded to rain strikes upon Heinkel with their free hands and legs, pummeling him like a storm of steel, but Heinkel did not let go of the arms he had grabbed.

It wasn't something he had wanted. Even so, the only thing Heinkel could confidently say he excelled at compared to others was this extraordinary sturdiness, and the best way to use it was probably this. Grabbing onto the opponent even while being beaten to a pulp. —A muddy, unrefined counterattack, utterly unworthy of a swordsman, and perfectly suited for Heinkel Astrea.

"—Aaaaaahhh!!"

With a face stained with nosebleed and swollen from being punched, Heinkel swung his arms up and slammed the twins he had grabbed violently toward the ground. In this moment, he forgot that his opponents were children, that they were servants of his house, and that they were the granddaughters of Carol and Grimm, whom he had known since he was born. —No, he didn't forget; he closed his eyes and, in a do-or-die move, slammed the two toward the ground headfirst—

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—God, Buddha, Odo Ragna. I swear, for the rest of my life, I will never sing a song again.

△▼△▼△▼△

Rainbow-colored butterflies that used corpses as pupae and the embers of life as fuel—the magical technique devised by the "Rainbow Illusionist" was by no means a creation of new life. The butterflies merely took that form; their essence was the embodiment of death, the polar opposite of the creation of life.

"It was your brother’s trump card, wasn't it? Rainbow magic."

Within the "Memories" he had consumed, the throbbing sensation that brought back sweet recollections was the rainbow aurora wrapped around a sword—in principle, the rainbow butterflies were the same thing as the ultimate technique performed by the "Greatest" Knight. It was simply a matter of the "Rainbow Illusionist" activating it in exchange for the dregs of life, whereas the "Greatest" realized it through his talent and the power of the spirits he had contracted with.

"But the power remains the same, see."

Butterflies of death that would obliterate anything they touched—at Roy’s smile, about twenty of them swarmed toward Ram and Meili all at once. Faced with the approach of that threat, Ram and Meili immediately synchronized.

"Ram-oneesan!"

"That’s the wrong way to address me."

"Fine, fine, Mistress!"

Exchanging a moderately serious banter, Meili, straddling the Guiltylow, stepped forward. Then, patting the back of the pitch-black mabeast, she had it forcibly snap the nearby trees with its powerful arms. As the trees fell with a loud cracking sound, Ram rushed into the space they left behind, crouching down and leveling her staff—

"El Fura."

The swirling wind violently blew the snapped trees forward, crashing them into the swarm of butterflies. The butterflies scattering death-scales were hit head-on, and explosions of aurora occurred.

"Kuuu~~!"

Roy stamped his feet, unable to suppress a shiver at the optimal solution they had found. The rainbow butterflies, which held the power to unravel the composition of all things and destroy them, were, so to speak, fire magic stones that ended everything upon contact. In exchange for that immense destructive power, they were single-use disposables—detonating them by hitting them with obstacles was the safest tactic. Even so, Roy was surprised they could handle it on their first encounter.

"How-ev-er!!"

If the butterflies were wiped out just like that, the "Rainbow Illusionist" would be weeping in his grave. The butterflies sent on a frontal assault vanished in the rainbow explosions, but bypassing that brilliant blast, the surviving butterflies—five on each side—made a wide turn to target Ram and the others. In addition, this time it wasn't just the butterflies; Roy himself also flew over there using the power of "The Leaper." From there, using the powerful arms of the "Snow Eater," he aimed to first beat the Guiltylow to death.

—"Rainbow Illusionist" x "Leaper" x "Snow Eater."

A three-pronged attack with no escape—blocking Ram’s front with the aurora distraction, the surviving rainbow butterflies from the left and right, and the teleported Roy from directly behind—was about to mercilessly detonate upon them—when the cry of a baby tore through Roy’s eardrums.

"————!!"

Roy’s thoughts were momentarily stolen by a shrill voice unsuited for a battlefield. Before his eyes, the one letting out the baby’s cry was a mabeast of blasphemous design, a failure of a god—it swung two burning spears made of bone, incinerating the rainbow butterflies that had formed the encirclement all at once. Another explosion of aurora was born. With his hair fluttering in the blast, Roy laid eyes on the grotesque existence that had appeared before him—a Hungry Horse King, which was supposed to only exist in the underground of the sand sea.

"It was a lot of work to bring it here, you know."

A head made of a giant horn, a torso resembling a human upper body with a massive mouth, and below the neck of a horse that was far too large to support it—it was far too distorted and hideous to be called a centaur. —Such a Hungry Horse King had swapped places with the Guiltylow that Meili had been straddling until a moment ago.

"————"

At that fact, Roy’s thoughts became scattered, and the "Grand Council" of his "Memories" sought an answer. The topics raised were the truth behind what had happened before his eyes, how to handle the crisis pressing in close, and the appropriate reaction to the surprising fact—all with varying levels of urgency. Just before selecting the highest priority topic—

"—What’s this? You have the look of a total moron, like a pig."

The owner of the voice that appeared directly behind him—that giant fist punched Roy’s small frame straight through.

"—!"

Struck in the back, Roy’s body flew over the heads of the Hungry Horse King and Meili. Sliding across the ground even faster than the exploding aurora, Roy stopped his momentum by thrusting one hand into the earth, twisting his body as he landed. He recovered with an acrobatic movement, discouraging the enemy from pursuing.

In Roy’s field of vision, he captured Meili straddling the Hungry Horse King, a giant demi-human man in a black suit who had appeared beside her, and Ram, who was in a clearly different position than before. —The appearance of new enemies and an inexplicable instantaneous swapping tactic; it was the resurgence of a possibility he thought he had dismissed.

"No, that wasn't it."

Precisely because he had "Memories," he had been unable to escape from unnecessary preconceptions. He had thought this instantaneous swapping was due to an Authority, and that it was Clind’s power. Therefore, he thought there was no need to be wary of it on a battlefield where Clind had vanished along with the "Divine Dragon." But—

"—If you’re a father too, then don't you dare lay a hand on a kid!!"

What he heard there was a thick voice burning with anger, followed by a powerful impact sound—at the edge of his vision, Heinkel, who had grabbed the twin girls with both arms, was taking a fist to the face. The one who had delivered that powerful blow was a large man Roy knew from his "Memories"—as expected, it was Gaston, who shouldn't have been there the moment the battle began.

"————"

Heinkel, punched in the face, was knocked over, and the twins narrowly escaped disaster. Whether Roy’s encouragement had been effective or not, Heinkel seemed to have been close to a breakthrough, but it seemed the opening of his counterattack had been abruptly thwarted. Of course, Roy couldn't laugh at Heinkel. He had been thwarted by the same opponent, using the same trick. And that opponent was not Clind.

"Eh? Really? Is that even possible?"

Unable to think of any other possibility, Roy doubted himself over that far too unexpected truth. The emotion in his voice was pure surprise, with absolutely no intention of denying or belittling the fact. None at all, but if it were true, it was incredibly unforeseen. Even mobilizing all the "Memories" he had of her, only the conclusion of "no way" came out.

It wasn't Clind. It had intervened with exquisite timing in both Roy’s clash with Ram and the others, and the twins' pummeling of Heinkel. It was looking down on this total war from a bird's-eye view, constantly restructuring the situation using an Authority. It was—

"—Petra-chan, since when did you become a Sin Archbishop?"

"That’s a really nasty thing to say. If you’re going to call me by a nasty name anyway, call me this."

Saying so, the game-maker who harbored a Witch Factor and dominated the battlefield through an Authority—Petra Leyte—placed a hand on her chest and stuck out her tongue with a "bleh." And then, she declared—

"—The 'Witch of Melancholy,' Petra Leyte."