4
The desert wind brings mirage-like dreams. Particularly on nights when people are already tossing and turning.
Ali had borne two names from birth: her true name, Ali, and her royal name, Aram Raza Shalzad.
Her father, King Shalzad, was troubled by the problem of needing a successor. He had not been blessed with a child by his wife, his harem, or any of his various mistresses. It troubled him such that he could even hear voices whispering behind his back about his lack of an heir, despite the fact that no one was around.
Shalzad was a country that adored its king, and in order to solidify his support, her father had obsessed over producing an heir. Because of that, his long-awaited first child, Ali, was given the life of a prince, despite being born a girl. And because of the teachings of the country’s founder, queens were not acknowledged in Shalzad, so Ali’s position was to serve as the last resort until a male heir was born or until Ali herself could bear a son.
Ali never felt like she was being limited by the burden placed on her, though. Quite the opposite. She felt a strong sense of duty; a belief that she must serve as king for her country. The fear of being found out was something she lived with daily, but until she could bear a rightful successor, she was determined to fulfill her duty as a member of the royal family.
“Ali. I’m sorry you were not born a man. I could not even grant you happiness as a woman—”
Her mother died, leaving those words behind, when Ali was still young and unable to understand the true meaning of her mother’s tears. Standing before her mother’s body, she swore, Ali is not necessary. The one who is needed is Aram—and also, the true prince of the next generation.
In the first place, she was nothing more than a placeholder. Her name would be little more than trivia in the long history of her country. It was true she had mocked herself for merely being a placeholder, but she could accept it because she was able to love her beautiful homeland blessed by oases and the smiles of the people who lived there more than she cursed her own fate.
She believed that her retainers generally had a good opinion of her. Both those who knew her secret and those who did not followed her—or rather him. Aram enjoyed a mostly favorable reception: he tried to do well, though he had a tendency to spin his wheels pointlessly because of his deeply rooted sense of justice. And the generals who actually went out into battle threw themselves into the fray with the knowledge that he would shed tears for their sacrifice.
She recognized she was raised well. But to her way of thinking, that did not necessarily mean she was acknowledged as a full-fledged ruler in her own right. Reality would not wait for Aram’s growth. “Someday” could not last forever. In time, a tragedy would visit their land.
When it finally arrived, the capital fell, and innocent citizens were sacrificed. Those crazed villains had rampaged through the city. And Ali had been unable to act. Unable to do anything but be dragged from the capital by her retainers in order to escape.
“Someday.” That naïveté had only invited destruction. She should have pushed further, harder. From the very moment she decided to live as Aram. Even if she was nothing more than a placeholder until the next king was born.
Ali had to make a decision. She needed the resolve to become the cornerstone for her country.
The day after Warsa’s army had set fire to Leodo.
Ali had barely slept, and bags were still visible under her eyes. The merchant Bofman was desperately trying to keep up with her as she looked around the torched ruins.
The lively merchant town was not even a shadow of its former self. The north, west, and central bazaars had been burned. The soldiers left scorched earth in their wake. Apparently they had also set fire to the port in the south to prevent the prince from escaping. The desert ships, save a small handful that managed to escape, and even the warehouses storing goods had all been reduced to cinders. It was an open question whether the bloodstained oasis would ever return to normal no matter how much time and effort was spent on rebuilding it. Ironically, the slave market had been passed over because it did not have any items in it.
All around the city, there were those whose bodies were covered in ash, hugging each other and crying at their safe reunions. But there were just as many kneeling beside corpses, weeping.
If anyone there knew Ali’s identity, if they knew why Warsa had attacked their town, they would surely have glared at her with eyes filled with hatred. They would have stoned her.
Ali took in all of the tragic scenes and steeled her will.
She had gone out into the town at daybreak, and night fell by the time she finished looking at everything. As darkness set in and the temperature dropped, Ali returned to the oasis mansion at the center of the city. It had barely managed to escape the fate of the wider town and was where the goddess was staying after she lost her children.
“Goddess Freya.”
The manor’s mistress was in her bedroom on the top floor. She was sitting in a velvet pillowed chair, sipping at a glass of wine, and looking out the window across the scorched town.
At her side was the boaz warrior, at the ready like a loyal retainer. Ali assumed a formal tone and manner, befitting an audience with a goddess, just like the last time they had met there.
“If it pleases you, I’d like to ask your aid in order to extract vengeance on the villainous scum of Warsa.”
There was no stopping Warsa at present. Not with the forces Shalzad and the rest of the western Kaios could bring to bear. The reckless assault on Israfan—the burning of Leodo had sent shock waves through the region and tensions were rising, but Warsa itself showed no signs of being concerned. It was an expression of their confidence in their own strength—in the strength of Resheph Familia—that they were not afraid no matter how many countries joined forces against them.
“I spoke with Bofman and gathered information. Shalzad’s elite forces in Serein were apparently wiped out just the other day. Warsa’s military, Resheph Familia, undoubtedly has several kavir. In this part of the western Kaios, that’s an overwhelming amount of military power.”
The harsh desert world—though it paled in comparison to Orario—was capable of producing many Level-2 warriors. And above all, those who managed to level up a second time, known as kavir, were a precious resource. So much so that even in the large, powerful countries along the Nire River, they were promised the status of general with no strings attached. And Resheph Familia boasted several of those kavir. Or perhaps warriors even stronger than that. In the age of deities when quality was superior to quantity, the enemy’s forces were overpowering.
“I’m aware just how shameless my request is at this point. However, right now I have no other deity to whom I can turn.”
“…”
“My country is ravaged, my people victimized, and the flames of war are now spreading to an entirely neutral country. I brought them into this. I cannot turn a blind eye to such villainy. So for the sake of that…I will debase myself as much as I have to. I will pay whatever price I must.”
The only way she had to repel Warsa’s attacks was by borrowing the power of the goddess before her eyes.
“I will…offer myself up to you. I shall become the Odr you desire.” Ali presented herself, stifling the tremble that threatened to creep into her voice. “I was never anything more than a placeholder until the next king could be born. If a rightful successor is born, then I can accept whatever may happen to this body of mine. I will devote my all to you. So please!”
Ali had steeled her resolve to become a sacrifice in order to save her homeland, and because she had nothing to her name now, all she could do was offer herself in return. So that was exactly what she did in her appeal to the goddess.
“I beseech you, take your followers and—”
Destroy my enemy. But the goddess did not allow her to finish her request.
“I don’t want to,” she rejected it bluntly.
“Wh—…?!”
“Why do I have to save your country? Why must I be bothered to have mercy upon the children of the desert?” she said as she sat with crossed legs.
Ali had no doubt the negotiations would not be simple, but she had not expected Freya to so adamantly refuse. She should still be upset about her property—the former slaves—being killed. Ali was about to press her about whether she had forgiven Warsa already, but Freya answered it before she could even ask, as if she already knew everything in her mind.
“I already punished those who laid hands on my property. They will despair over the promise that can never be fulfilled before eventually being purified. I’m satisfied with that.”
“…!”
“I have no obligation or duty to butt into some pointless war. At least not as far as I’m concerned,” she finished.
Ali was standing there, about to step forward, to ask for any kind of help, but Freya stopped it with a glance.
“Besides, have you no shame? Clinging to the fact that I’m looking for my Odr?”
“Gh…?!”
“You didn’t seriously think I would agree to such a boring exchange, did you?” Freya’s eyes narrowed as she openly expressed her disappointment for the first time. “Really, Ali? I’m disappointed.”
Scorned for trying to cling to an easy answer, disappointing the goddess before being cast away. For some reason, those feelings were especially painful. Ali felt like an invisible blade was slicing into her body. And the fact that she was so hurt by the goddess’s words flustered her all the more.
Then what should I do…?!
Without Freya’s support, she had no way to stop Warsa’s barbarity. Ali was about to look down at the floor in disappointment in herself, when—
“I can’t be satisfied with you like that. Your soul will never shine this way.” The goddess’s lips curled up into a grin. “Don’t offer me something. Come and take what you want.”
There was a crack as something was set down on the round table at the center of the room. Ali spun in shock at the loud noise and saw that Ottar had moved at some point and prepared something.
“A placeholder until the next king is born? Irrelevant. You were still earnestly, foolishly, sincerely trying to find the correct path to be a righteous king, were you not? So then follow that path all the way to the end.”
There was a board game on the table.
“Walk the path of kings.”
It was Halvan.
“You can’t mean—” Ali shuddered.
“Let’s have a match, Ali. I’ll wager that which you desire,” Freya said, her silver eyes narrowing provocatively as she looked through Ali. “I said it before, Ali. No matter the king, there would come a time when they had to make a gamble. There would come a time when they would have to rise to the challenge.”
“Gh…?!”
“If you win, I’ll lend you my followers. You can use them as you please. Whether that’s to protect your country or to destroy your hated enemy is entirely up to you.”
Ali was at a loss for words as the goddess’s soprano voice slid into her ears. Freya stood up, approaching Ali before she realized it and cupping her hands over the girl’s cheeks.
“In exchange, if you lose—I will take your everything.”
She pulled the girl’s face in close to hers. The goddess’s expression was alluring like a witch of destruction. It was the look of a haughty, inhuman queen. There was no trace of the divine goddess’s face that had stolen Ali’s heart that night in the oasis. Two sides of the same coin. That was the true nature of the free and cruel goddess.
Ali caught her breath.
“It’s true that I want you. So the moment you lose to me in this game, I will be taking you with me and leaving this desert.”
“Wh—?!”
“I’ll return to Orario and take my time dissolving you in pleasure as you moan until you have become my personal little doll.”
Ali’s speechless face was reflected in the goddess’s eyes as she smiled at the girl. Those eyes were filled with a sadistic, rapturous, dark desire.
—She’ll do it. She really would do it.
She would embrace her own desires without reserve, embrace Ali’s body and spirit, and devour every last bit of her. The goddess would ravage the soul that had fascinated her. And she would not doubt for a moment that it was a pure expression of her love—a blessing.
“So, have a seat, Ali.”
She released the girl and moved to the center of the room and sat down, but Ali didn’t budge.
It’s impossible. I can’t win.
Before they had left Leodo, she had seen Freya’s skill at the game. Or rather she had been shown just what kind of beings that deities were. All-knowing. She could examine the board while in perfect knowledge of the truth, never make a mistake, and mercilessly cut down her opponent. Every move she made would be flawless, and she would never be baffled by the state of the board, literally playing a godlike game.
There was no way for Ali to match that. A cold sweat broke across her brow, and her hands trembled. She was being consumed by despair in the face of a match with a goddess who could not be escaped.
Freya watched all of that silently before finally opening her mouth.
“Ali.”
For just that one moment, her voice changed back. She smiled, as if placing a wreath of flowers in the girl’s hands.
“Are you really being resolute and noble right now?”
“?”
Hearing that question, a memory flashed through her mind.
Live nobly and resolutely.—Like a hero.
The scene from the oasis that night that Ali would never forget. The message from the goddess that had been engraved in her soul. The most beautiful divine will in the world.
…I see. That’s what she meant…
Hearing Freya’s words, Ali realized her misunderstanding. If challenging this goddess to a board game was too much for her, then she was never going to be able to fight Warsa anyway.
Ali was walking a razor’s edge between recklessness and despair, and in order to achieve her wish, she had to stake herself, demonstrate her resolve, and nobly break out of her predicament.
Ali had misunderstood her situation. Her assumptions were all wrong. She did not need to show a tragic resolve in the face of Warsa. If she were truly suited to be king, then it was the goddess before her whom she needed to fight, to whom she needed to demonstrate her resolve.
“Ghhh!”
Ali resolved herself.
I mustn’t shame myself any further before her.
She quickly sat down across from Freya. The goddess’s eyes narrowed, and her smile deepened as Ali’s light purple eyes stared her down. Ali had made her decision. Not the resolve to become a cornerstone for her country, but the resolve to live nobly—to heroically stake her life on the royal path that had led her to that point.
She stepped to the table and challenged the goddess to a gamble.
Halvan.
It was the most-played board game in the Kaios Desert. In all, there were eight starting types of pieces: the king, called malik; the queen, called malikah; the general, called faiz; the chariot, called merkabah; the sprite, called rauch; the pawn, called junud; the thief, called las; the slave, called obadiah. It was played on a ten-by-ten board, and much like chess and shogi, the goal was to capture the opposing malik. There were two rules in particular that distinguished Halvan: the initial formation and the sacrifice.
At the beginning of the game, the players were allowed to place their pieces freely within a predetermined region: their formation. And by giving up a single turn, a player was able to remove one of their own pieces and exchange it for certain other pieces they could later spend a move to drop anywhere on the board: the sacrifice. The drop pieces they gained from the sacrifice depended on what piece was sacrificed. For example, by exchanging a junud, a player could gain a single las and a single obadiah.
Because of those two rules, Halvan strategy had developed marked peculiarities that separated it from those of other similar board games. In exchange for getting to move first, the player was forced to expose their formation before the second player had set their own pieces. If the formation the first player chose was one that the second had studied well, they would be at a significant disadvantage. It was said that between players of equivalent skill, the match was decided before a single move had even been made.
“Will you go first or second?” Freya asked as she sat back in her chair, smiling ever so slightly.
“…Second,” Ali responded after slight hesitation.
Nowadays, with every possible opening having been studied, it was clear that moving second was advantageous in Halvan. At least among mortals.
I played quite a bit of Halvan in the court and am familiar with all the standard openings. I’m sure that alone won’t be enough to beat her, but…the depth of my knowledge should at least be of some value on the path to victory!
It was not something she would boast about, but Ali was the best Halvan player in the court of Shalzad.
As a member of the royal family, she was blessed in her heritage, and while she did have some hardheaded tendencies, she made it a point to internalize all of the knowledge and teachings she had received in the court. The weight Ali bore while passing as a male prince was not something the average person could understand, and she had put in an equivalent effort in order to play her role. And Halvan, which was popular among the aristocracy, was just one more part of that effort.
“All right, then, let me set up my pieces.”
Picking up the black pieces, Freya began to systematically place them atop the board. Her formation was…the pieces were lined up symmetrically from left to right at the front of her area. Essentially just the default formation. It was the most basic of basics. Ali caught herself feeling momentarily disappointed as she watched the formation take shape, but she immediately switched to carefully analyzing the structure. And when it was her turn to lay out her pieces, she carefully and deliberately set up her own formation.
The formation she had chosen was a flying V with the pieces gathered to the right side of her area. It was an offensive formation that took advantage of the rauch’s mobility to open holes in the enemy’s formation, and it was Ali’s best formation. She decided to put her faith in her rauch.
“An attack without any concern for defense…Hee-hee, that resolve of yours is exquisite. In that case, I’ll also yield the turn to you.”
“Wh-what?!”
“Move as you please.”
Admiring Ali’s determination, Freya confidently skipped her turn, even though Ali had been able to place her pieces in response to the goddess’s formation. It was obviously an enormous advantage for Ali.
Is she looking down on me? Giving herself a handicap? No—it doesn’t matter! First things first, I have to win this match! If she is looking down on me, then it’s her funeral!
Just like a tiger lying in wait, Ali readied her strike.
Ali’s gaze contained a regal pressure, but Freya weathered it as if it were a comfortable breeze.
And, with Ottar watching on from the side, the game began.
Ali’s first move was to advance the junud in order to open the way. Between using the default formation and allowing Ali to move first, Freya’s defense would be slow. Ali could choose to either continue pushing with her junud or attack through the opening with her rauch depending on how her opponent responded.
Next was Freya’s turn. Ali was on guard for what the goddess’s move would be—
“—What?!”
Freya took the malikah in her formation and moved it to the side, taking the malik standing beside it.
“Regicide?!”
It was one of the possible sacrifices in Halvan. However, for reasons both tactical and cultural, it wasn’t a move that anyone ever made. It could even be called taboo.
It was a natural sort of development. In the desert world filled with kingdoms of various shapes and sizes, killing the piece that represented the king was taken as an offense against the royal family. If anyone used that move in the royal court, it would undoubtedly be judged as lèse-majesté. But even setting that aspect aside, there were none who would choose that move for purely tactical reasons.
In the event of regicide, the piece that took the malik became the king in its stead. In exchange, the player received another copy of every piece other than the malik and malikah to be used as drop pieces. And then, in exchange for being granted such an abundance of pieces, the player would be forced to yield three turns instead of the usual one turn for a sacrifice. Three straight turns without being able to move.
That was the risk that accompanied regicide. And yet, the goddess before Ali had not only done it but done it as if it were natural.
“I don’t like having anyone standing over me, giving me orders,” Freya said with the smile of the one and only Vanadis.
“Gh…!” Ali strangled the agitation she felt.
Combined with the first move that Freya had yielded, she had already ceded a total of four moves. She had given Ali four turns with which to attack. From the perspective of any board game, that was a fatal move. There was no way she could overcome that. No matter how godlike her moves might be, there should be no way out.
That was what Ali thought, but she did not gleefully cling to those three moves she was given, nor did she struggle with how to manage them. She was shocked by Freya’s choice, but she put her hand to her mouth and thought hard about how best to use her moves.
While Ottar solemnly prepared the goddess’s newly acquired pieces for her, Ali took her own piece in hand. For the first move, she used her junud to take Freya’s slave, easily advancing into the enemy’s camp, which allowed her to promote her foot soldier to a faris—a knight. And then for her second move, she took one more piece with the faris. And with her final free move, she pushed into the goddess’s formation from the other direction with her rauch, using the faris as a wedge while she set up on both flanks.
With that, it was finally Freya’s turn again. Ali had taken free rein of the board and could attack from either the left or the right depending on how Freya responded.
The position already looked hopeless for Freya. But despite that, the goddess smiled.
“All right, then, let’s get this started.”
She picked up one of the pieces she had gained by killing the king. The goddess placed the faiz on the board with confidence, as if she were sending out her most trusted warrior.
The desert nights are quiet and cold.
Even around oases that moderated the change, the night was still much cooler when compared to the blistering sun. Leodo was no exception. The tranquil moonlight chilled everything.
However, Ali could not tell whether her body was boiling or freezing over. An intense torrent of emotions, a mixture of passion and chills ran through her.
“Ghhhh…?!”
Beneath her eyes was a Halvan board filled with black and white pieces. The position that should have been overwhelmingly advantageous to her had long ago been turned on its head.
Her position had been favorable from the start, and there had not been any obvious turning points, but before she realized it, the balance of power had become even. And then, the goddess’s advance began like a flaring inferno.
Ali had not even been able to stammer in awe at how or why. Freya merely proceeded to turn the tables with each move she made, as if it were obvious, as if it were divine providence. Ali had not made any incorrect moves at all. On the contrary even, she had made several excellent, even brilliant moves. And yet, every line of attack she readied was crushed, and all her defenses were broken.
She never knew. Ali had never imagined that a Halvan like that could exist. Every time she thought she had studied all there was to study in the state of the board, it was transformed into an entirely new and never-before-seen beast by a single move from Freya. And what she first thought was a giant beast, or perhaps some kind of dragon, changed into a torrent of countless slashes.
She broke through the center with her faiz, then used her free merkabah in a hit-and-run before crippling my defenses with a rauch, letting her tightly knit junud pieces tear into my formation—!
The pieces smashing through her defenses transformed into swords and spears, arrows and axes, carving away at her body as they broke through her formation. She could clearly see it, could see the unmatched brutality of the Einherjar obeying their Vanadis.
If I lure the faiz so my merkabah…no, that won’t work! Her rauch will break through my flank! And I can’t deal with her merkabah because of the way her junud are positioned!
She had already been pushed into a one-sided defense. The game Freya was playing out in her head was far beyond anything Ali could imagine. Countless times, the board in the girl’s mind collapsed in submission like a castle made of sand.
She was still threatening the goddess a little. There was no denying she was still maintaining some kind of a grip on the board. But she could not help thinking that even those struggles were all within Freya’s calculations. That she was being toyed with and the outcome was already set in stone. That her hopes of saving her country were already gone and she was already as good as the goddess’s puppet.
The helplessness she felt spawned a terror that was unbearable.
By any reasonable look at the board, this isn’t over. You can still fight. You must…
The scolding voice in her head that kept telling her it was not over yet was like a candle in the breeze.
“…, …, …gh!”
Ali realized that her lungs were screaming for air. She was gasping like a fish out of water, but she did not have any composure left to care about how comical the wheezing sound she was making sounded.
There was no one in the room to read the record of the game. The only other person in the room, the boaz warrior, was standing over the board taking a neutral stance, simply watching the flow of the match.
The only other sound was that of the pieces moving across the board, their movement transforming into a lonely tone that gradually cornered Ali. It was as if she were tracing the outlines of her life with her moves, and it felt like that life were being chipped away with every advance that Freya’s pieces made. Ali had already lost count of how many times she had paused to ponder the state of the game, but the goddess never admonished her for it. Ali could imagine the goddess amusing herself with how despair clung to this desperate girl’s face. She could not stop the sweat pouring down her brow as she acknowledged that she was standing on the edge of a cliff.
They were already in the final stages of the game. If she did not do something, Freya would be able to checkmate her within three moves. She was close enough now to guarantee there would be no escape.
Was there any way out? Any move that would allow her to survive? Or was it an inescapable death? Ali could not see anything anymore. She did not know what move to make. She did not know how to advance.
It’s no good—I lose—It’s over—I already—
Her hand became limp. Her body was on the verge of toppling forward like a marionette whose strings had been cut. She was overwhelmed by a sense of resignation as she stared at the board—and for the first time, she looked up.
Sitting across from her was the goddess she was fighting. The smile on her face as she watched Ali was the same as it had been all along. There was no joy or scorn in her eyes. She was just waiting to see what path Ali would create for herself.
“—gh.”
That smile. That gaze.
It made Ali’s hand tremble. Before she realized it, she was clenching her fingers. Her hand had become a fist. A spark flashed to life in her frozen heart, filling the rest of her body with heat.
No, I can’t! I won’t!
She could not give up. She could not cower. She would not allow herself to run away in the face of the goddess.
I can’t. Not in front of her—I can’t show her such a pathetic figure!
It was just stubbornness, but that was her truest feeling. She did not want to lose to Freya, to the goddess who had wreaked such havoc on her heart. She did not want to be cast aside by the goddess who had guided her in that moonlit oasis. Freya alone, she did not want to ever disappoint.
“—That’s why!”
And with that wholehearted voice, Ali took her own malikah. There was no strategy. No goal. She just moved the piece along the board, following the flash of light, the guidance from the solitary moon she was sure she had seen.
She had the feeling that the reflection of herself in Freya’s eyes shone dazzlingly.
“?…gh.”
It was just a single move provoked by her heart. The blazing passion and determination that had gripped her was fleeting.
—It’s over.
It was a blunder made in desperation. Just a vain struggle. When the boiling heat that ignited her whole body passed, Ali could see it. She hung her head silently. She did not even try to pray. She could do nothing but wait for the goddess to carry out her punishment.
Her head hung like a criminal’s awaiting the executioner’s blade, merely waiting for the proclamation—
“………”
But Freya stopped moving. Her silver eyes opened wide as she stared at the board.
“…?”
Freya had made every single move up to that point without taking any time to plan, so when she paused, Ali looked up in confusion. Ottar also looked on, puzzled, as Freya looked down at the board for a second.
“Heh…Heh-heh-heh…Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
And then she laughed. A pealing laughter, like an uncontrollable wind. The goddess’s voice sounded more joyous than Ali had ever heard her before, which caused her to recoil in surprise. And, ignoring the girl’s confusion, the goddess reached out to her piece, her shoulders still quivering in uncontained mirth.
“E-four malikah, C-three merkabah, D-two rauch—”
And before Ali could say anything, she also started moving the girl’s pieces. The black and white pieces moved without hesitation as she revealed a board dozens of moves into the future. Ali could not hide her shock at what was happening when—all of a sudden, her eyes shot open.
“Your chariot corners me, and—it’s your win.”
Checkmate. Not for Ali, but for Freya. All because of the single move with the malikah that Ali had just made. Even Ottar looked awestruck at the result.
“Th-that’s…it can’t be!”
Ali was astonished. It was a board dozens of moves into the future. She had by no means seen that far in advance, and she would never have been able to make it there herself. If Freya had not performed the moves herself, she would never have noticed the path to victory and would surely have lost only a few turns later.
The move Ali had made contained an unknown potential that only a deity could have noticed.
“I beat you…?! No! But—! This is just…I could never have…”
That one move had come from following her instincts. It could be written off as nothing more than a burst of emotion. There was no way she would have been able to actually follow through and corner Freya.
“A king is not one who must accomplish everything themselves.”
However, even if she could not have carried it out, she had demonstrated it. The possibility of a move that could tear the unrivaled queen down from her throne. The potential of mortals to overcome the impossible.
“A king is someone who exemplifies hope to others and proves the glory that lies beyond the light.”
Ali sluggishly looked back at Freya, who had suddenly started speaking.
As if acknowledging that right at the end Ali’s soul had demonstrated the glimmer of a king, and she had found the path to victory, Freya tipped over her malikah—the embodiment of herself. She resigned.
Ali caught her breath, unable to process what was going on.
“It’s your victory, Ali,” Freya said, rising from her seat.
“Gh…! W-wait a minute! I—!” Ali stood as well as she started to argue, but Freya stopped it with a glance
“Just accept it. I’m in a wonderful mood right now.”
Ali could not tell what those narrowed silver eyes were looking at. But Freya could not hide her good cheer as she addressed her retainer.
“Ottar, obey Ali. Until the battle she desires is finished, you are to treat her as your mistress.”
“Understood.”
“Convey the same to Allen and the others as well.”
The goddess was already moving things along as she ignored Ali standing there in shock. The boaz retainer nodded in acknowledgment of his true mistress’s command and shifted to stand behind Ali, waiting in silence. Ali turned awkwardly to look behind her, her eyes trembling as she saw the boulder-like warrior standing there, looking down at her.
“I’ll be changing rooms. This is your castle now. So carry yourself like a king.”
“…!”
“From now on, everything that happens is entirely up to you. Will you stop their invasion? Or destroy a country you find offensive? You can do anything you want now. You wield a power that can achieve anything.”
Ali gasped at Freya’s words as the goddess moved toward the door. It did not feel real. But her pulse raced. There was nervousness and exaltation and an emotion she had never felt before.
And, as she placed her hand on the door, the goddess gave her one piece of advice out of generosity before leaving the room.
“If you’re ever unsure what to do, then rely on Hedin. Other than that, do as you please.”
Ali’s victory was immediately reported to the first-tier adventurers of Freya Familia. Their initial reaction was disbelief, but they unquestioningly obeyed their patron goddess’s divine will.
They accepted that they would play the part of Ali’s arms and legs, though there was one, a certain catman, who made no effort to hide his displeasure at the situation.
“This is a farce.”
That night in a meeting behind closed doors.
Several tables were pushed together with multiple maps spread out across them. The magic-stone lamp on the wall gave off a faint glow as those gathered in the room—Ottar and the other first-tier adventurers—looked to Ali while Allen made his displeasure known.
“It is her divine will. Obey, Allen.”
“You got any other lines in your repertoire besides that, dumbass? She is who she is, and she went and let this brat who can’t do anything other than beg for help screw around with us.”
“Gh…”
“I didn’t come all the way out here just so I could be some brat’s plaything to boost her ego.”
Saying she had defeated Freya in a match certainly sounded impressive, but she would never have noticed the opportunity if Freya herself had not pointed it out, and even that was only after the devastating handicap the goddess had imposed on herself. So what gave her the right to order them around? Ali could not really disagree with the clear implication behind Allen’s blunt statement.
The silver-haired goddess was not there. She had told Ali to do as she pleased and then disappeared off somewhere.
“We’re not getting anywhere like this. If you don’t like it then just take back your oath to Lady Freya and get lost, you stray. We won’t miss a cat or two leaving,” the elf Hedin responded calmly. There was no anger or disgust in his voice. Just a professional desire to move things along.
The dark elf and prum brothers did not even glance at Allen.
“Tch…” The cat’s annoyance was clear, but he did not leave the room.
They’re supposed to be comrades, aren’t they…? It’s so tense.
Ali, who by all rights should have been an outsider to the group, was ready to collapse from the stress of dealing with them. She was struck again with awe at the fact that Freya somehow managed to command a group of such strong-willed people. At the same time, though, she could feel a weight in the pit of her stomach as she realized she was going to have to command them all herself now. Hedin glanced over as Ali subconsciously rubbed her stomach.
“Let’s begin the discussion. You are short on time, are you not, milady-for-the-time-being?”
“Ah…yes!”
It was the dead of night.
This war room had been thrown together immediately after she had finished her game of Halvan with Freya. Her mind was already frayed from the intense match with a goddess, so she would have liked to have a long break, but she managed to get moving again thanks to the strength of her determination. While all of this was going on, her country and Israfan were still under threat from Warsa. She needed to come up with a plan to deal with them immediately.
“Bofman, was it? What are the particulars of Warsa’s army?”
“Y-yes, sir?! Me, sir?!”
“Hurry it up, swine.” “What are you waiting for, swine?” “Do you want to scream some more, pig?” “There’s more where that came from, pig.”
“Eeep?! I can report! I’ll tell you everything I know! Without delay!”
Bofman had also been dragged into the room. He was on the verge of wetting himself as he recoiled from the Gulliver brothers’ glares. Ali still did not really understand what connection he had with Freya, but she was starting to feel bad for him, suspecting he might have drawn the worst lot of them all.
“W-Warsa’s forces are apparently currently occupying Shalzad in their bid to gain total control of the country. Reports indicate they have scattered several small groups all over in order to search for Prince Aram, but…”
The profits of merchants were affected significantly by the economy and politics of countries. And that was more true than ever during times of war. Bofman had surely been using his trading company to gather all the information he could about the ongoing war in order to determine any possible business opportunities, long before he had gotten dragged into this situation by Freya. Bofman glanced at Ali, trembling a bit as if what he wanted to say was difficult to address, before mustering the will to continue.
“I can’t put an exact number on it, but…based on the information I’ve gathered, the enemy forces likely number around eighty thousand.”
“E-eighty thousand?!”
“It’s not just Warsa soldiers, either. Countless mercenaries have been joining the war on their side as well…”
Ali felt her throat quiver when she heard that number. The numbers she had heard from back when the capital was taken were nowhere near as high as what Bofman was reporting. Shalzad and Warsa were both preeminent powers in the western Kaios’s central region, but even so, raising eighty thousand troops should have been an impossible feat for either of them. As Bofman indicated, that number was unthinkable without thousands of mercenaries also entering the war.
But even if he’s right about that, that number is still unreasonable. Not unless that mercenary group Warsa has been courting the past few years, Resheph Familia, has been brining other mercenaries in as well…!
Ali felt a chill. The war between Shalzad and Warsa was no longer merely a problem between their two countries. She could sense that she was being drawn into a different, stronger current. A contagion that would shake the entire Kaios region was starting to spread.
“Eighty thousand, huh?”
“Better than the Dungeon at least.”
“But that’s still a pain in the ass.”
“A giant pain in the ass.”
—However, despite the earth-shattering projection, Freya Familia was entirely unmoved. In fact they did not seem even the slightest bit concerned. Ali and Bofman found that difference in reaction disturbing.
“People with no talents to their name besides banding together can hardly be called capable. Indeed, I would write them off as incompetent. That’s just how it is.”
Hedin paid the two residents of the desert no heed as he looked down at the table. Amid all the maps spread out across the tables, he was focused on the areas surrounding Leodo and the area where the borders of Israfan, Shalzad, and Warsa all met. Examining the terrain in that area, his eyes suddenly narrowed, as if he had hit upon a plan.
“Milady-for-the-time-being is royalty, so even if I gave you an order, I could not enforce it. However, I’m going to provide directions. If you wish to end this quickly, then I suggest you follow them.”
““…””
“If there are no objections, then I’ll explain the plan.”
As Hedin looked up, he appeared every bit the strategist supporting the king as he seized the initiative. His intelligence was seemingly common knowledge, as Ottar and the other adventurers did not interject.
“First of all, as a brief overview of the plan—”
Freya had told Ali to rely on this elf, Hedin.
I see, even his appearance has an air of intelligence to it. With the glasses he’s wearing, he really does look the part of a brilliant tactician.
Ali was sure he would have a secret plan to break out of the predicament they were in, even though they were so overwhelmingly outnumbered, so she was tensely waiting with bated breath for his next words,
“—The eight of us will annihilate the enemy army. That is all.”
“That’s way too vague!!!” Ali howled at the ceiling.
There was no secret plan or strategy or anything. Just brute force. No consideration for ideas like winning tactical or strategic victories. Indeed, the overview was so lacking in detail as to be utterly useless.
“What are you talking about?! There’s no way you can do that! Beating eighty thousand people with just eight?!”
But Hedin easily waved away her complaints.
“This is the most efficient method.”
“What?!”
“And this way, there will be no innocent victims, which you wanted to avoid. I’m proposing a simple and clear plan that will meet your demands.”
Hedin did not back down at all, as if he were simply stating the reality of the matter. Meanwhile, Ottar and the others took it all in stride without any comment.
He’s serious. He meant every word. He—all of them—seriously think that they can wipe out an army of eighty thousand with just eight people!
“Did you think I would have a plan to scrounge together some soldiers and somehow overcome their advantage in numbers through some ingenious strategy?”
“O-obviously! That’s how this sort of thing goes, right…?!”
“My apologies for not rising to your expectations, but even for us that method would be incredibly painstaking. It’s just too unrealistic.”
—Then what is realistic?!
Ali’s jaw clenched as Hedin patiently explained to her that eight people defeating eighty thousand was the most reasonable choice when the alternative was trying to gather allies in order to meet the eighty thousand in battle—as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
She broke into a cold sweat, wondering whether maybe she was the weird one for thinking it was ludicrous, but then she saw Bofman across the room with his mouth hanging open.
“…I-it’s not just the numbers, the overall level of skill in the enemy’s army is also high. They surely have countless kavirs!” Ali barely maintained the presence of mind to object.
The enemy troops were followers of a deity, warriors who had been granted Falna. Warsa was a militaristic country and they had several other subordinate gods in addition to the patron god of their military. And it was clear that Resheph Familia had several members who had leveled up as well.
“What of it? Are you suggesting that people equivalent to second-tier adventurers would be capable of stopping us?”
However, throughout it all, the elf’s stance was unchanged. This was the era of gods. Quality over quantity was the ironclad rule of the times. Why would a rabble be able to properly cross blades with an elegantly polished and refined individual? Hedin’s implicit response made Ali realize she was taking them too lightly. She was underestimating just how brokenly powerful the strongest faction—Freya Familia—really was.
“Whether through their own efforts or the work of a deity, the enemy has realized that Prince Aram is hidden in Israfan. They should be targeting other communities along the border besides just Leodo,” Hedin continued as Ali stood there in shock.
The elf pointed to the communities in Israfan that were near the Shalzad border. He glanced over toward Bofman, who immediately stammered, “Y-yes, sir, there are reports that they have assaulted other towns and villages.”
“While all that was going on, the forward elements they sent to Leodo stopped reporting all of a sudden. They will undoubtedly send in a new force. If they have already noticed the disturbance, then…they will likely arrive tomorrow evening,” Hedin announced confidently.
He was basing his analysis on the equipment and the level of training of the Warsa troops they had encountered, combined with the information provided by Bofman regarding the enemy army’s location and distance.
“First of all, we will crush that force to make them suspect that there is an unknown force in Leodo.”
Ali had finally recovered from her shock and focused intently on what Hedin was saying. An unknown force of the strongest adventurers in the world…But she had no more energy left for rejoinders.
“If the second force they sent here does not return, they will become a bit more cautious, which will buy us some time. During that time, we will take care of our preparations.”
“Preparations…?”
“To force the enemy to assemble their entire army in the location of the decisive battle.”
“What?!” But Ali was flabbergasted yet again by the new bomb that Hedin dropped.
“I said before that it would be most efficient for the eight of us to take care of the enemy. So our challenge now is drawing all of the enemy forces onto the battlefield so that we leave no remnants that will need to be cleaned up later. If we can do that, then we’ll be able to end everything in one fell swoop.”
“Wh-what are you talking about…?!”
“It’s the same when Rakia decided to attack Orario, but even for us, annihilating tens of thousands of enemies spread out across multiple fronts requires significant time and effort.”
It was as if he was saying “I’d rather get this annoyance over with all at once.”
There’s no way we can do that. If we had a similar-sized force, then Warsa might meet us on the battlefield. But even with how overwhelming our combat strength is, it is still only eight people. They won’t just rally for an all-out assault just because we ask them to. How are you going to convince a force of eighty thousand to all join the battle?!
Perhaps the voice screaming in Ali’s mind was conveyed by her gaze, since Hedin looked back at her.
“If you desire peace for your country, then the method you should take is not to repel the enemy, but to annihilate them.”
“!”
“I mean that quite literally. Not the colloquial usage where you dramatically reduce their forces and leave them significantly damaged. If you half-heartedly leave remnants behind, it will simply transform the conflict into a quagmire. If the enemy’s army escapes without a decisive confrontation, they will undoubtedly continue to be a source of trouble for you in the future.”
“Th-that’s…!”
“We could begin an assault with surprise attacks now, but if we did that, there would be no way to prevent some from slipping through the cracks. That’s why I want to gather them all in one place.”
There was a clear logic and coherence to what Hedin was saying, but only to those who could accept his premise. It was not something an average person could comprehend.
“We are going to go back to Orario after this. We will only fight this one time. So in order to fulfill your wish, it is necessary to comprehensively crush them so that they will never be able to attempt something like this again.”
In truth, they had no interest in the fate of Shalzad. This was simply Hedin’s considered advice to his current mistress, temporary though she might be. Understanding that, Ali felt her throat tremble.
“Because of that, I’m going to need you to do your part as well, Milady-for-the-time-being.”
“…!”
“It is necessary for you to become the lure to draw out both the enemy and your allies…Can you do that?”
Behind his glasses, Hedin’s coral eyes met Ali’s gaze. It was not just him, either. Ottar, Allen, and the others, they were all looking at her. Eight pairs of eyes focused on her, appraising her. Ali clenched her hands.
“I’ll do it! Whatever it takes!”
She responded firmly, accepting his challenge head-on.
“My capital has fallen, I failed to protect my people, and even my retainers are gone! I’ve done nothing but disgrace myself throughout all of this! If after all that, I couldn’t even put myself on the line, then the royal family’s name is worthless!”
“…”
“Use me, Hedin! If that’s what it takes to make your unbelievable nonsense reality, then so be it!”
Her face took on the regal presence of Aram as she finally spoke her mind. It was already obvious she was going to have to do this herself, as she had been urged on so much by the goddess.
Ottar and the others quietly watched her. As both a king and a lone girl, there was still one thing that Ali had not told them.
“Please save my country, gallant warriors!”
And she said it with the spirit of a king.
Hedin’s lips curled ever so slightly into a muted smile—at least that was how it looked to Ali.
“Very well. Then, let’s commence the operation.”
But on second glance Hedin’s expression was unchanged from before as he solemnly continued, so Ali suspected it might have just been her imagination. However, as if responding to her royal decree, he began to shoot off instructions.
“Hegni and the brothers, it’s your turn. And you four split up.”
The dark elf and prums looked up as they were addressed. The elf tactician announced the beginning of the initial skirmish.
“Drive out any Warsa forces that come within a five-kirlo radius of this town.”
That night, a wisp of cloud was covering the crescent moon.
The desert night was even darker than usual without the moonlight, and that darkness evoked a primal fear. The outline of the desert turned into clusters of darkness that seemed to almost grow into mountains, and the shining eyes of the monsters milling around flashed menacingly like disembodied souls.
Instead of the moon, countless stars in the sky looked down over the ruins. Stone pillars and broken walls rose out of a sea of sand, granting a window into the culture of the time they were built. The ceiling was half-collapsed, barely able to block out the cool night breeze. It was just right for monsters or humans to use as a place to rest their heads.
That same ancient ruin was currently ringing with screams.
“Ugh! Uwaaaaaaaaaaa?!”
Shrouded in darkness, the cries from inside those ruins echoed across the desert night sky. Sprays of blood took to the air like countless flower petals. Crimson blood spurting from a severed neck painted the walls red. The sound of dozens of footsteps raised a great clamor. And each time a wail went up, the number of footsteps decreased by one.
Warsa’s troops fell into disarray. They had invaded Israfan territory and were on their way toward Leodo to find out what had happened to Marzner and his advance unit that had failed to report back. They had set up camp in those ruins to avoid detection and were just taking a break when they were suddenly attacked without warning.
“R-report in! What the hell is goi—? Gargh!”
The man who was apparently in charge was mercilessly relieved of his head, and as a result, there was no longer any stopping the soldiers’ panic. The shadow of a single attacker danced across the wall, coalescing into a silhouette as it cut down several more soldiers, bringing yet more death. The shadow sent the magic-stone lamps flying with a kick, transforming the interior of the ruins into pure darkness as the massacre continued.
“—AAARGH!”
Fittingly, the last thing the soldiers saw before they died was a dark fairy bearing death.
“Ahhhh, nights are good. It feels good striking from the shadows.”
Taking advantage of the darkness to cut down yet another soldier. Simply repeating that over and over. To Hegni, it was a very easy task, freeing his speech from the usual nervousness he struggled with.
“No need to worry about other people looking at me. No need to be anxious about what I look like to anyone else.”
Because the darkness hides it all.
His unburdened speech was accompanied by an intense flash of steel and enormous blooms of blood. The Warsa soldiers met their death one after the other without ever knowing what was happening.
“Honestly, I don’t really like killing people, but you all did much worse things to the powerless masses, didn’t you? That means there has to be atonement for your sins, so it’s best if you just die here.”
The only response he got was panicked screams. However, undeterred, the dark elf swordsman composed a melody with his blade as he confessed.
“If you don’t, you’ll eventually reach a point where just being alive fills you with shame. Just like me.”
His green eyes bore a mixture of emotions as they narrowed earnestly.
“I’m jealous of you being able to die like this. I’d like to be able to be killed by me, too, but I haven’t settled things with Hedin yet, and most important of all, Lady Freya has stolen my heart. Until I’ve given my all for her sake, I can’t die.”
The fairy began speaking faster, but even as he spun a passage befitting a bard lamenting the world, the melody of his black sword never paused. His pitch-black cloak snapped sharply as another five soldiers fell to the ground coughing up blood.
“So die for me. Our goddess is looking forward to the path that girl is treading. So for the sake of that pleasure, die. I also would like to see what becomes of her. My bad, sorry, my deepest apologies. But I’ve heard that the heavens aren’t such a bad place, so you probably don’t need to be scared. I’m sure you’ll return down here someday. Probably.”
To the Warsa soldiers, his voice was like a lullaby murmured by a terrifying god of death. The dark elf whipping up a vortex of blood was undoubtedly a demon of the desert.
“…Ahhhh, it’s like I’ve returned to my old self. I really hate war. I hate killing people.”
Right around when the screams died out.
Hegni was standing alone amid the dark red sand that marked where so much blood had been spilled. Dozens of corpses were facing the opening in the ceiling of the ruins, their hands outstretched toward the sky.
The dark elf had not been touched by even a drop of blood as he looked out across the scene of devastation emotionlessly before disappearing into the night to hunt another unit.
“AHHHHHHHH!”
The Warsa squad was screaming as they ran away. The four prum brothers had blended into the darkness, making noise with their weapons as they watched the soldiers run.
“Just like Hedin said, we let two enemy squads through,” said the eldest brother as he swung his spear.
His expression was not visible through the helmet he wore as his three brothers picked up where he left off.
“This is so boring.”
“That snooty elf’s acting like a tactician.”
“A miserable elf who thinks he can increase his brainpower by pushing up his glasses just so. He should die in a fire.”
“Oy, give it a break—you’re making me feel bad for Hedin…At least he’s better than Allen.”
While his younger brothers tore into the elf, the more worldly Alfrik covered for the elf magic swordsman a tiny bit.
The Gulliver brothers were driving exactly two squads that were fleeing in a panic after the prums attacked. Watching the Warsa soldiers running to the south ahead of them, Alfrik switched gears.
“We’re splitting up here. Dvalinn, Berling, you two guide them toward Leodo. Make sure when you’re done that the tormented animals mindlessly snap at the bait.”
“A monster parade with soldiers, huh?”
“It’s harder to hold back than it is to finish them off. They’re too damn weak.”
The hammer-wielding and ax-wielding prums dashed off like the wind. Grer with his greatsword was left with the eldest brother.
“Alfrik, we don’t have to do this annoying stuff anymore now, right?” Grer asked.
“Yeah, there’s no need to let anyone else through the defensive lines now. We’ll split up and maintain the perimeter.”
They were five kirlos away from Leodo.
In the vast desert sea with nothing to block the way, the prums, whose already-keen vision had been enhanced by their multiple level-ups, were able to spot any suspicious figures no matter how far away they might be.
“If anyone is fool enough to test their luck, wipe them all out.”
Allen was in peak foul mood.
“Warsa’s soldiers are attacking again!”
“But there’s this absurdly strong catman and boaz who are crushing them like insects!”
“Who is that noble able to command such powerful warriors?!”
The reason was because he was being forced to play a part in a farce in front of the masses.
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