Ishura - Volume 1 - Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Time of the Setting Sun

“…Curte. Hurry up and flee, fool.”

Within one of Lithia’s spires, Regnejee was cowering as the city fell. As his breathing grew fainter and fainter, he was still giving orders and gathering the final reports from his wyvern troops. While Curte fretted over the severe burns on her best friend’s body, Regnejee still rejected her advances to nestle up against him.

“Regnejee. Wh-why…? Is this your blood? How could you be beaten? I can’t believe it…”

“Lithia is finished. I owe Taren. The swarm, too… Kraw, kraaaw. I always protected them. Increased our size, controlled them, guided them. The whole lot of scum. Serves ’em right.”

Regnejee gave a pained laugh. Within the wyvern flock, he had been nothing more than a small, average individual, easily lost among the group.

“But with this, it’s all gone to waste. Too bad. But…in the very, very end, I still won, Curte.”

“……”

“My prized treasure’s… Krah-ha-ha.”

Despite his incessant abuse and continued rejection of her touch, Regnejee had always been by the blind girl’s side. What he truly longed for wasn’t a country. It wasn’t even the peace and order of the swarm.

He’d always refused to accept it. In truth, he, too, had wanted to abandon the swarm. He wondered how great it would have been to live as a solitary wyvern with Curte. So long as he could listen to her song in peace and tranquility, that would have been enough for Regnejee.

“…Run away. Before the Aureatia Army gets here… As long as you live…that’s enough for me…”

Alus had let Regnejee go. He had assumed Regnejee was an inconsequential dying soldier. That was fine with Regnejee. He was fine being a wretched loser, a fool, who had made the wrong choice that fateful day.

“I’ll win in the end… You’ll see…Alus the Star Runner.”

“…Regnejee.”

Curte smiled with loneliness. She could remember the days she spent with the wyvern, even without her diary nearby. She knew there was always someone with bloodstained wings aiding her, a young girl without the strength to live on her own.

She turned to the dying Regnejee and tried to find the words with which to part from him.

Suddenly, the door opened. Standing there was a soldier holding a musket, looking weary and worn out. He was exhausted and looked very unbecoming for a general.

“……D-don’t move…!”

The man barging into the wyvern commander’s room was named Harghent the Still.

Amid the chaotic battle, with the other Mage City soldiers falling one after another, he alone, with his long record of wyvern subjugation, had identified the wyvern commander’s position and had been able to plunge so far ahead.

Slipping through tumultuous battles in enemy territory, he believed he had arrived at the city’s central hub of power.

However, seeing the conditions within the room threw him into confusion, sending his desperate efforts and resolve up in a puff of smoke.

He wasn’t in a wyvern’s nest at all. The room was a residence for a young girl.

“N-no… Impossible…”

“……Who’s there?”

The girl, Curte of the Fair Skies, stared at the Sixth General with her unseeing eyes. On the other side of her, still succumbing to his lethal burns, Regnejee glared at his enemy, ever serving as the girl’s attendant.

“I-I’m…the Sixth General, a member of the Twenty-Nine Officials of Aureatia. H-Harghent the Still. On the request of Mage City, I’ve come here…to defeat our foreign enemy…!”

“…I see. Aureatia… It really is the end, then.”

Curte unexpectedly stood up. She was a blind girl without any combat ability, but before her figure, her overly long, faintly colored hair, Harghent found himself shrinking back.

He wanted to believe this young girl had been taken captive by the wyverns.

But he knew. Even if no one else believed him, Wing Clipper Harghent knew.

Even if their relationship was that of predator and prey, even if they would have been eternal enemies.

“Stop.”

It was possible for bonds to form between wyverns and humans.

“Stop. You can’t do this. It’s not good. That’s a fearsome beast who’s slaughtered civilians. As a minia, it’s my d-duty…to kill him.”

“Regnejee’s… He’s my friend. A precious friend who’s saved me more than any minia ever has.”

“You, girl… You’re still so young! Th-there’s…there’s no need for you to shoulder such guilt! Get away from him. Please. People are dying. I’ve had enough. I—I don’t…I don’t actually want to kill anyone, either. So please…”

“…I knew. I only pretended like I didn’t, but from the very beginning…I knew what I was doing… What Regnejee was doing—”

“Stop…!”

Harghent was unable to move as he kept his barrel trained on the damnable wyvern. He only needed to slightly pull the trigger, yet his finger was heavy, as if frozen solid.

“You were always…my angel, Regnejee.”

“He’s the enemy of all minia! He’s a wyvern!”

“Don’t say it, scum! Incompetent scum! Boneheaded fool! Say any more to Curte and—”

Leaping up, Regnejee’s talons closed in on Harghent’s head—

With a loud bang, the wyvern’s throat was shot clean through.

The bullet pierced a straight line through Curte’s chest, too. If she hadn’t risen, she most likely would have avoided the bullet’s path.

The shot had come from the open window.

“Don’t make fun of…,” the shooter mumbled, far off in the distance. There was no one to hear the words.

“…my friend.”

It was the wyvern champion who had once spared Regnejee’s life.

Why did Alus the Star Runner come to Lithia? Why did he first appear over Mage City, where Harghent was fighting? The rogue who was greedy above all else.

Harghent knew the reason. He knew why Alus the Star Runner had returned to Vikeon the Smoldering’s ravine, to kill the dragon after already defeating him and stealing all his treasure.

“Of course I’m going to try and save my friend.”

Faced with the sea of blood before him, Harghent fell to his knees in shock.

“Ah… Aaaaaargggh…!”

The lead wyvern he was supposed to hunt down and the young girl he was supposed to protect were now piled on the floor as if dumped in a ditch. Their blood intermingled, and with forlorn vigor, the dark crimson spread across the floor.

The scene was Harghent’s—the incompetent Sixth General’s—conclusion to the war.

“Aaargh, Alus… Alus…!”

Rage.

Despair.

Sorrow.

Regret.

Self-condemnation.

The unbearable emotions all blended together, and Harghent fell to the ground and screamed—

“Alussssss! Damn youuuuu!”

A number of memories were passing through her visionless eyes, like a slideshow. A number of her personal events, starting from that day, the day the True Demon King stole everything from her.

The general named Harghent had left to find help, but given the severity of Curte’s wounds, she knew the general didn’t think she would be able to hold out for aid to arrive.

She could feel her own weakening heartbeat.

Crawling across the floor with her fingers, she touched Regnejee for the first time.

“Oh…Regnejee…”

Tears flowed from her blind eyes. Curte had realized the truth. But the wyvern never let her touch him, to prevent her from discovering it, to keep her dream alive.

“You really were a wyvern after all…”

She heard the door open quietly. She was unable to see who entered, but she could tell it wasn’t Harghent. The long-gaited footsteps came to a stop beside Curte.

With her failing breath, she called out.

“…Who’s there…?”

A deep voice responded gently.

“If I said an angel, would you believe me? We’ve come to see you off, little girl.”

The man had stooped down and was rubbing Curte’s back. His hand was big and warm.

An angel had come. The song she’d heard that day must’ve been an angel’s song after all.

“I see… Thank you… Angel… Th-the truth is…there’s something…I’ve always hoped for…”

“I understand. Everyone has the right to be saved. You can ask me for anything.”

“It’s my mother…”

Until her final moments, Curte continued singing her song. The song she sang for Regnejee.

The angel of death’s blade quietly ended her pain.

Many events were already over. At the very least, they were for Taren the Punished.

She had lost the feeling in her right hand, but she still gripped her sword tight. She wondered how many of the Aureatia and Mage City soldiers who had broken through the defensive line she had killed on her own. It might have been ten or maybe twenty.

On her path forward toward the central fortress, there was a mercenary wrapped in a tattered cloak. A skeleton.

“…A first-rate ending for a self-proclaimed Demon King, Taren.”

“Hmph, there you are, Shalk… You’ve put in a lot of work, too, I bet.”

“Don’t mention it. I never really did much to begin with.”

“I don’t know. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve done plenty.”

Shalk’s white spear, like her own sword, was dyed red with blood. She hadn’t been given any information about what he had done after using up all his might to head off the abomination named Soujirou. In the end, he was the only one to return to Taren’s side.

“Regret fighting a losing battle?”

“…Never. Entering battle means you need to accept defeat and loss, too… Actually, no—”

Leaning up against a wall, Taren took a ragged breath. A self-deprecating smile spread over her face. She had the feeling such smiles had become more frequent since she’d become the lord of Lithia.

“That’s a lie. The truth is…the soldiers who idolized me, the citizens, Curte…I’m sad I couldn’t make them happy. Involving them all in my yet-unrealized ideals and seeing them rewarded with death, unable to witness anything concrete, is what’s most regrettable of all.”

“…I see.”

“Hmph. I lacked the capacity as ruler to create peace, I suppose… The only world I ever lived in was on the battlefield…”

“Don’t let it bother you. I’m in a similar position. Even after dying, this is how I ended up.”

“Shalk the Sound Slicer. You wanted information about the Final Land…where the True Demon King perished, right?”

“……”

“Don’t you think it’s strange? No one knows anything about the True Demon King. Both you and myself… There’s nothing we can put into words, and yet, everyone knows just how terrifying the monster was. But I know…there’ll come a time when we need to discover for ourselves…”

Propping herself up with her sword, Taren took out a piece of paper from her breast pocket with her free hand and passed it to Shalk.

“I can’t read.”

“Then have someone read it for you. We searched for the Final Land a number of times, but our survey team…they were completely blocked off. There’s some form-unknown monster in that place after all. Totally uncharted territory… However, there was one place our survey team barely managed to reach.”

“……”

“The Hero’s corpse and the Demon King’s corpse have yet to be found.”

“…Learning that is plenty. Had I worked harder, I probably could’ve helped save you.”

“I can’t give you any more reward than this. Now, go wherever you like. You’ll earn no profit if it is discovered that you served a general like myself.”

Taren knew someone would appear soon to put an end to her. She didn’t plan on giving up without a fight, but she didn’t want to embroil a soldier of Shalk the Sound Slicer’s caliber in a losing battle.

“…Capacity to be king, huh? I think you would’ve made a pretty good one, myself.”

“Hmph. Not quite the word.”

Taren grinned.

“You mean Demon King.”

Shalk the Sound Slicer departed without another look back. Taren knew she wouldn’t see him again.

“Waaaah!”

How many times was it now? Having mustered the courage to face death, Yuno’s fist meaninglessly swiped through the air. She was working from zero knowledge of hand-to-hand combat to begin with.

“…Listen.”

Dakai appeared truly, from the bottom of his heart, baffled as to why Yuno was going so far.

“You really gotta escape, or things are gonna get bad fast.”

“Shut…up! Haah, haah, haah, I haven’t…landed a single…”

“Ah, right…”

There was a relatively weak smacking sound—the sound of Yuno’s fist hitting Dakai’s cheek. With her strength, she couldn’t even make his neck shake. Dakai shrugged.

“There you go, one punch. We done? It’s really rare for me to play along with someone for this long—you know that?”

“A-auuuggghhh…!”

Yuno crouched down and cried. Her hatred and grief were completely worthless, holding no meaning to anyone besides herself. It had been that way in Nagan and now here in Lithia, too.

“I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again, Yuno.”

Dakai began to depart, indeed appearing completely unconcerned with Yuno’s feelings. A powerful deviant, out of reach of the average person. Yuno couldn’t follow his fleeing footsteps, much less take the man’s life.

“…Wait…”

The hand she held out to pull him back didn’t reach Dakai, but nevertheless, his feet stopped.

Outside of the prison, in the middle of his path, someone was lingering like an evil spirit.

* * *

“—Yo.”

Yuno wasn’t able to follow Dakai or kill him. All the same, there was one other method she had to deliver his comeuppance.

“Perfect. You look like you’ll be a fun fight.”

With his snakelike face, the blade flashed an asymmetrical smile.

“…From the very start, I never really thought…”

She had figured there was a chance he’d survived his fight on the plain. She thought there might be a chance he would make it in time. She believed that given the extreme gap in their abilities, there was a chance Dakai wouldn’t kill Yuno and humor her challenge to fight him.

“…that I could ever win.”

Just a chance.

Her gamble had extremely low odds, without any sliver of certainty, but with Yuno, all alone in the world, it was worth betting everything on that chance.

“Ah… Those arrows in your sleeves.”

Dakai looked toward the grated window. In the detention cells, only ever used to house unruly drunks, the gaps in the grate were quite large.

“I thought it was strange how you had less of them.”

Left alone in the holding area, Yuno had sent her arrowheads flying through the window with Force Arts. As far as she could get them, trying to carve marks in a variety of places.

The only thing she could use were these arrowheads she’d sharpened herself. Having traveled with her, Soujirou the Willow-Sword would have recognized them if they were stuck somewhere. He would have been able to follow the straight line of engraved guideposts from the arrows back to the source.

—The girl’s second name was Yuno the Distant Talon.

“Ha, ha-ha-ha…! That’s hilarious…! Amazing! I don’t believe it…! I got fooled by a girl like this?! You never know what life’s gonna throw at you next, I tell you…”

Dakai clapped his hands and laughed. Not a courtesy laugh but a true belly laugh.

He then turned to face Soujirou.

“…Ah, the Visitor. I heard about you. You’re the swordsman who sliced that tarantula, right? You must have quite the sword, huh?”

Looking at the shape of Soujirou’s blade, Dakai could tell it was the one that had carved the scar into Nihilo the Vortical Stampede.

If there truly existed a man in this world capable of shredding that armor—allowing not even a single attack through, defensively invincible, unaffected even by the Cold Star—it could be no one other than the man standing before him.

“You don’t seem like a swordsman yourself.”

“Fantastic. You’re the first person to say that to me at first glance.”

Dakai smiled with joy, as if trying to show his brimming excitement to discover which of the otherworldly deviant Visitors was stronger.

“You didn’t go assassinate Taren? That was your job here, wasn’t it?”

“Doesn’t matter. I just came to kill. Things I ain’t ever killed with my sword before, stuff that’s fun to kill…stuff that’s only here in this world. Instead of going to find this Taren person…going along with Yuno meant I wouldn’t know what would end up happenin’. So I came.”

“…Soujirou.”

Yuno gripped the sleeves of her own clothes.

Though she needed to kill the man eventually, a despised object of her vengeance and one of the detestable and indifferent powerful, at the very least, to Yuno, Soujirou and Dakai were different. The Willow-Sword was the man who had, with a single blade, put an end to that hellscape, the extreme peak of her suffering.

“That enough of the talking? Let’s get going.”

“Don’t be so hasty. Either way, one of us here’s going to die, right? Why don’t we reminisce about the Beyond, eh, Soujirou?”

“No memories worth remembering. The food sucked, people came at me every day trying to kill me, I only ever got to cut down weaklings, and before I realized it, I ended up here.”

“That’s fair; I’m the same way. Even with all these people dead, I don’t give it a second thought. I’ve never felt like I wanted to go back to the Beyond or bummed I wound up here… I guess all Visitors are deviants like that. Too strong, so you’re always alone.”

“Almost like bein’ too strong is a bad thing or something.”

“Ha-ha-ha. There’s actually a bunch of people who think just that.”

Soujirou the Willow-Sword. Dakai the Magpie. Yuno wondered in the world of the Beyond, a world without Word Arts, just how terrible a presence the two men had been. Fighting, fighting, and fighting some more, until at the end, when there was no one left to fight—they’d arrived in this world of Shura.

“Solitude is freedom. See, you know, that’s why right now, I love who I am. If there was ever a reason behind getting exiled to this world, I think it was to figure that out…”

“…Kill him,” Yuno suddenly muttered. She herself didn’t even register what she’d said.

Losing everything meant being free. Those were the first words Soujirou had said to her.

Yuno had to convince herself. It didn’t matter if her hatred was misplaced or how illusive the possibility was; she had to carry out her vengeance to save herself.

Yuno understood. She had been the one that day in Nagan who deserved her ire. She had been wrong. She couldn’t let herself go. She needed to torment herself over it.

However, such a sound argument would do nothing to save her.

“Kill him…Soujirou! If I’m free to do whatever I want, then I’m free to plead with you to kill him, aren’t I?! Even if it’s pointless… Even if it’s annoying, no one can condemn me for it, can they?!”

If, more than anything else, she was unforgivable, weak, culpable, and deserving of reproach…

Then the only thing she could do was place her faith in someone who was none of those things.

This world had always pleaded like that, too. Pleaded that the age of the True Demon King…would be ended by someone else. Everyone had pleaded for someone stronger than themselves to beat the bad guy.

“Yeah. ’Cept, then I’m free to choose if I’m actually gonna kill him or not.”

“Sheesh, and I was just telling you to flee to safety a few minutes ago… Ah well, you don’t need to worry.”

Dakai smiled coyly, twirling his sword in his hand.

Both of them had the inkling that the war was already over. That there wasn’t a single reason to risk it all in this life-and-death gamble.

“I’ll have plenty of time to play with you, too, once this is over.”

Soujirou readied his sword. Like the fencers of the Beyond, he bent his wrist and pointed his long sword straight toward his opponent, his left hand affixed to the pommel. It was a peculiar stance.

Conversely, Dakai remained motionless. In a close-range fight with another minia, his otherworldly and exceptional observational abilities, as well as the Cold Star embodying the ultimate counterattack, meant he needed no stance of his own.

One step.

Soujirou was the first to make his move.

Dakai’s anomalous observational skills saw everything, down to the particles of dust kicked into the air. The blade’s path was the exact thrust he expected from Soujirou’s stance. He noted each individual movement from Soujirou as if taking a series of photographs. He picked up on the doings of Soujirou’s left hand on the sword’s pommel, artfully concealed under the blind spot created by the long thrusting motion of the sword.

His opponent’s intentions, perceptions, he stole all of it. He then started piecing together a strategy based on his observations.

With his swordless left arm wrapped behind his back, he lay in wait for the deadly hit. Right before. Seconds before. Until those seconds dwindled to milliseconds, to nanoseconds, approaching zero.

Here it comes.

Soujirou’s left hand smacked his pommel. Sent flying from his hand, the sword extended out slightly. Very, very slightly. The Magicked Blade existed outside the realm of slightly. Dakai understood this was to trick his own estimation of the distance.

It happened at the same time. Soujirou’s right hand crossed over and grabbed Dakai’s right arm as he brandished his sword—the enchanted saber of ultimate speed, which struck faster than anything else. However, what if the arm controlling said saber could be locked down at the exact same moment its user reacted?

The movements were simultaneous. Ultimate technique, moving faster than the electric synapses of consciousness in one’s head.

“It’s mine now.”

Soujirou clutched Dakai’s right sword arm. Dakai didn’t move a muscle. From the beginning, he had been motionless, waiting for Soujirou to act.

Because he was hiding one of Higuare the Pelagic’s poisoned daggers underneath his bare foot.

Faster than one could think, he sliced at Soujirou’s shins with the blade held between his toes.

But he failed.

Yeah. This guy’s pretty good.

The back side of Dakai’s foot was pinned by Soujirou’s first step forward.

His secondary sword had been sealed away.

“That your big plan, then?”

“Pretty much. However—”

The otherworldly and aberrational bandit’s true value lay within his power of foresight. Even when faced with a truly powerful swordsman, he could predict the future. His opponent’s intentions, their perception—all of it.

Dakai had purposefully let his hand be grabbed and to occupy his adversary’s right arm. Soujirou was now obstructed with his own right arm suppressing his left. His open right flank was utterly defenseless. Dakai wasn’t in a position to aim for his side artery, nor was he able to twist his body from his suppressed right arm to break free, but with his strength, he could slice through his opponent’s midsection, ribs and all.

With his left hand, he held his third blade.

From the start, Dakai’s left arm had been folded behind his back.

A sword pommel settled inside his left hand—the conclusion of Soujirou’s sword’s flight. The intention behind using his ultimate maximum-speed slash was to send the sword flying without shattering its blade.

From the very first move, Dakai the Magpie had read the flow of all of it.

“I’ve got a monopoly on taking things.”

His third sword. The enemy’s own blade.

The bandit’s sword had surpassed the Yagyuu and sliced the swordsman’s torso.

He felt the feedback of the cut travel through his left arm.

Then he realized.

This thing.

“Yo.”

The sliced Soujirou was sneering.

Then, on Dakai’s side, a sword gripped in both hands, he realized his defeat.

“This sword’s… It’s…”

The sword’s quality was obvious at first glance. It was an extremely poorly made practice sword from Nagan City.

Dakai didn’t understand. If the sword was exactly as it appeared, it should have been totally impossible for it to slice through that tarantula’s body.

Wielding the sword, Dakai finally understood.

The sword in his hands possessed no phenomenal powers. It couldn’t even crack an opponent’s ribs. This practice sword, wielded by a man of Soujirou’s build, had been able to leave a gash in that tarantula?

He had Dakai’s right arm in his grasp. The gap in their strength was widening.

“Remember what I said? Your life is forfeit.”

“It was…never an enchanted sword to begin with…!”

This land was home to many magical blades. In this world, with the popularization of bows and firearms, the simple possession of an enchanted sword was enough to create a peerless swordsman. Dakai’s own sword techniques were entirely predicated on the capabilities of his Magicked Blade.

You must have quite the sword, huh?

Soujirou had incorporated Dakai’s misread into his strategy from the beginning. He had seen through Dakai’s stance and learned the man was confident in his absolute initiative. As such, disarming his opponent and countering with his own sword, and the logic and technique behind his swordplay, had been known to Soujirou from the very start.

If that was the case, Dakai couldn’t help but wonder how wide the gap between the two Visitors had actually been. How much of the man’s technical skills were his powers of observation even able to perceive?

If those who deviated from the laws of the Beyond were cast off to this world, then could anyone say exactly how deviant these Visitors were?

As his right arm, enchanted saber and all, was slowly being bent toward him, Dakai’s line of thought led him to a single conclusion. The more he tried to see through his opponent’s weaknesses or a plan to turn the tables, the further he descended into darkness.

He couldn’t even imagine it. How could he win against this man? What could he have done differently?

He couldn’t fight back. He grasped the same sword in his hand, yet it was as if the sword itself had chosen Soujirou instead.

“Ha-ha… I don’t…believe it…”

“You said it yourself.”

He wanted someone to fight. He had manifested it himself—a genuine monster.

“You ain’t no swordsman after all, huh?”

Slashed by the Magicked Blade still gripped in his own hand, the bandit perished on the jail floor.

“I just met your daughter, Taren.”

Death had come to finish Taren the Punished. It was a man in black vestments who gave off an ominous aura.

“Aureatia’s assassin…is Curte…?”

“I wanted to save her. I was too late.”

“I see.”

The man sat down in a nearby chair and looked at Taren. His eyes appeared even more exhausted and morose than Taren’s, who had expended all her energy continuing her fight.

“…I’ll ask you for your daughter’s sake. Taren the Punished. Why did you do this?”

“I wanted to rule the world in Aureatia’s place—is that not a good enough answer?”

“A country that relied on wyverns and sellswords for its military might was never going to last long. Even a layman like myself could figure that out.”

“I don’t know. Plenty of statesmen throughout history have been driven mad with ambition before.”

“…I’d like to believe that wasn’t the case here,” the man clearly stated to the woman he’d been sent to kill.

“The commander of this operation was the young Hidow the Clamp. In truth…you were in collusion with the higher-ups in Aureatia from the beginning, weren’t you? Part of a plan to round up the monsters that had become threats in this post–Demon King age.”

This was the qualifying round.

Beneath Hidow’s words, possibly, there had been an even greater purpose in mind. A preliminary to test whether, for Aureatia, their plan was even possible.

“Hmph. Supposing that was indeed true, then I definitely couldn’t tell you.”

“Okay, then maybe…it was actually…and I know I’m being overly optimistic here…”

Kuze smiled weakly.

“…it was all for your daughter?”

“No,” the undefeated general replied, averting her eyes. A world for Curte. Outside the New Principality of Lithia’s borders, there was no world where wyverns and minia could live together.

“That’s not it…”

“…Well then.”

Even if this was indeed the case, it was a dream that would be forever out of reach. Taren the Punished had lost.

“One final thing. I’m a paladin, see. So it’s confession time. If you have any last words, I’ll hear them.”

“My last words, huh…?”

Taren closed her eyes. Nothing came to mind.

She wanted to apologize to Curte, but the young girl had already departed from the world.

Despite living on the battlefield up until the very end, facing down death over and over again, she had never thought about what her legacy would be after she died.

She felt she needed to leave behind words that would somehow support her people’s future after she was gone. That or words for the Twenty-Nine Officials of Aureatia…her former comrades, encouraging them to view her defeat as a stepping-stone to lead the world down the correct path.

The general, having obtained much power, felt for the first time, moments before her death, that there were matters she was leaving unfinished.

There had to be something she wanted to say. She opened her mouth.

“I want…a Hero.”

“……”

It sounded like the wish of a child.

“If this world had a power stronger than fear, plain for all to see…a True Hero to guide the hopes of the people…”

The True Demon King was defeated. Yet the True Hero was nowhere to be found. That was why no one had been saved from the fear. What Taren had truly wanted to achieve was not peace through suppression. If there could be some symbol, able to turn back the world to a time before it had become twisted with fear, that was enough for her.

“…Well, this is a bit awkward. I didn’t expect to hear words like that from the mouth of a self-proclaimed Demon King.”

Taren took up her sword. Even knowing it was over, she intended to fight to the end.

Kuze the Passing Disaster decided that sword would be the only thing he didn’t stop with his shield.

“I was always afraid, too, Master Paladin.”

“I see. I’m glad. I’ll grant…your daughter’s parting wish, then.”

The white-winged angel descended on Taren’s neck. She dealt a single blow, but there was no pain.

The angel’s blade was a deeply benevolent one, the type those determined to die on the battlefield never wanted to see.

“She asked me to save her mom.”

The upheaval in the New Principality of Lithia, beginning with the Cold Star’s bombardment, was settled before the sun could rise. Most of the once-invincible army, close to 70 percent of the wyvern army in particular, had perished in the maelstrom.

The citizen casualties, excluding those killed in the conflagration, were low, and public information was restricted to say that series of battles was due to Taren and her wyvern army going out of control and the excessive response to their surprise attack by a group of Mage City soldiers.

Aureatia intervened in the name of postwar cleanup to once again bring Lithia into its territory, with the political direction for the city to be decided down the line.

Nevertheless, no one knew how the blaze was abruptly extinguished, nor was there anyone who knew the terrifying and abhorrently strong players who were behind the scenes of the whole affair.

Then the morning came.

A woman wretchedly fled through the town outskirts that had survived the fire. Lana the Moon Tempest. While she had escaped the danger to her life from Elea the Red Tag, that life was all she had left. She had nowhere to return to, not Lithia or Aureatia.

“So this…is the state of things now that the True Demon King’s dead…”

The monstrous terror that controlled an age gave birth to uncontrollable power. Like the body’s defensive reaction to a horrible pathogen causing damage to one’s own cells in the process.

Even with the True Demon King defeated, this menace still festered across the land.

Now there were all-powerful and terrible individuals…beyond what anyone could imagine.

“Wh-who could ever take them down…? There’s nothing we can do…”

There was no one to be seen on the outskirts she wandered through. Only the scars of tragedy, left behind by the fire.

The omnipotent World Word. Star Runner, annihilating an unbeatable army single-handedly.

The Willow-Sword who sought endless battle. The Passing Disaster who killed all.

So long as they remained alive, then one day, the whole world would become a scene exactly like this.

“It’s all just… They’re all just Demon Kings! When will the terror end?! Dammit…!”

Lana’s feet got tripped up, and she fell to the ground.

Coughing violently, she spit out an immense amount of black blood.

“K-koff… Argh, dammit…!”

A teacher would never do something like that, would she?

“When?”

It was the telltale sign of a lethal poisoning.

“When did she get me…?!”

It happened when Elea had visited Lana in her cell and pressed her hands to her lips. Caught up in Higuare’s attack, Elea spoke the words under her breath. To make sure Lana the Moon Tempest, with her knowledge of everything, couldn’t return to the headquarters in Aureatia… By that point, it was already too late.

“Life Arts…a slow-release poison…! Elea…!”

Raking at the ground in agony, Lana wished for an answer. Not an answer for why she was about to die. There were many monsters strewn about the land who were impossible to usurp, and even the New Principality Taren built had lost to them.

The True Demon King was finally dead, and yet the future held only destruction.

“What can we do…? Wh-what are we supposed to do…? What can we…?”

The long night was coming to an end. In the city visited by destruction, a new dawn arrived.

Before she could meet this new dawn and before she could see the future of despair, Lana the Moon Tempest died.