Rokka no Yuusha - Volume 1 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5
When All Is Explained
 

“You will not escape!” Mora ran, ignoring the minibombs that flew at her. As she brought her fist down, Adlet dodged, and her gauntlet plunged into the earth like a meteorite, leaving a crater. Mora was not an opponent to be underestimated. “Hmph! ” She grabbed a root and yanked, pulling up a whole tree. In one smooth motion, she swung her massive new club at Adlet.
“Watch out!” Fremy cried, and her bullet shattered the tree trunk.
Mora ignored Fremy, focusing exclusively on Adlet. Her attacks were relentless, and every single blow was powerful enough to kill him instantly.
Fremy cut in between the two of them and said to Adlet, “I’ll hold her back. You run.”
“No, you run. Mora is dangerous,” he said. There was a high chance that Mora was the seventh. It would be dangerous to allow her and Fremy to fight alone.
“You’re in my way, Fremy!” bellowed Mora.
Fremy intercepted her charge. Adlet stalled Mora and tried to come up with a way for him and Fremy to get away together, but that was when he sensed a bloodthirsty aura approaching from his side.
“Fremy, move!” commanded a feminine voice. Fremy jumped aside. Adlet rolled away, too. Countless white blades thrust up from the ground where the two of them had been standing.
“You’re late, Princess,” Mora muttered.
In the forest, Nashetania stood with her slim sword raised, a smile on her face. When Adlet saw that look, he thought, She does smile a lot…but there’s something different about her now.
“You understand, right, Adlet?” Fremy said. She aimed her gun at Mora and a bomb at Nashetania. Adlet understood what she was trying to say—that right now, Nashetania was not their ally.
For some reason, after dealing that one attack, Nashetania didn’t move. She stood there, stock-still, with her pasted-on smile. Adlet noticed Goldof behind her. He was watching Adlet, waiting for his chance to strike.
“It was fun, Adlet—those ten days we journeyed together,” Nashetania began. It was as if she had forgotten they were on a battlefield. “I used to think I knew so much, but really, I didn’t know anything at all, did I? I didn’t know how fun it would be to set out on a journey without my coachman or maid. I didn’t know the fear of my first real battle. I didn’t know how confident it would make me feel to have someone beside me to encourage me,” she continued. This was the calm Nashetania he hadn’t seen for so long. Ever since she had found out that there was a seventh, she had been nothing but confused, frightened, and troubled. But now, her expression was bright and clear. “I am grateful for that. Thank you.” A shiver ran down Adlet’s spine.
“So now that I have expressed my gratitude, I’ll be killing you, all right?”
“Run,” whispered Fremy. “Once you get the chance, run as fast as you can. Nashetania is not acting normal right now.” She, too, was afraid of Nashetania. “Listen, Nashetania,” Fremy said, “Hans is safe, and Adlet is not our enemy. Mora is lying.”
“She does not speak truth, Princess,” countered Mora. “Adlet is our enemy. Hans has been gravely wounded. Fremy is merely under his spell.” She sounded uneasy.
“Calm down, Nashetania,” said Fremy. “We still don’t know who the seventh is—but it’s not Adlet.”
“Do not fall for his wheedling. Adlet is a clever liar,” insisted Mora.
Both Fremy and Mora attempted to sway her. Adlet said nothing, just watched Nashetania. He didn’t want to fight. He was wounded and exhausted. The gash he’d gotten from Hans had begun to ache again. The burns he’d suffered during his battle with Fremy hurt. He didn’t have the energy to fight Nashetania.
“You’re listening to this, aren’t you, Goldof?” asked Nashetania. “Don’t attack them just yet.” Her reaction was, in a way, the least desirable one. “Be careful. We cannot know what Fremy might do.” Nashetania had ignored every word.
Mora chuckled, and Fremy gave up trying to convince Nashetania. Adlet prepared himself to fight again. He thought Nashetania might go for another sudden attack. But she just gazed at him, smiling. Mora seemed confused by Nashetania’s lack of action.
“Adlet, what do we do?” asked Fremy.
He was unable to reply. If they could meet up with Hans and Nashetania found out he was okay, she would reconsider. But was Hans really okay? What if Mora was the seventh, or Chamo? What if the seventh had set up another trap for them?
“You can’t think of anything?” Fremy pressed.
“Let’s head to the temple,” said Adlet. “If Hans is okay, we’ll be able to regroup there.”
“But if he’s not okay…”
“We can’t afford to think about that.”
There was one other option—to prove his innocence immediately, right there. If he could reveal the seventh’s entire plan, then this fight would be over. But Adlet still couldn’t deduce where the fog had come from. Think , Adlet told himself. It’s just one last thing to figure out. If he could demonstrate how it had been done—or even if he couldn’t prove it, but could argue something convincing enough—they could avoid a fight.
“I’m trying to think, too…but I don’t have any ideas,” said Fremy, frustrated. He couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t think of anything, either.
“Adlet, I’m waiting,” Nashetania said suddenly. Her cheerful tone was absolutely dissonant, considering the situation.
“For what?” asked Adlet.
“Your confession and penance,” she said as she pointed the tip of her sword at him. “I know that when you catch someone who has done wrong, before they die, they confess and repent, right? I think that’s what the head maid said.”
Sounding exasperated, Mora chastised her. “Princess, you are somewhat ignorant in the ways of the world. Not every criminal confesses and repents.”
“Is that right?” Nashetania seemed puzzled. She tilted her head and pondered the situation. “Then I may kill him, right?” Instantly, blades popped up all around Adlet.
“!” The young warrior failed to dodge the attack entirely, and his shoulder was sliced open. The blade had been so sharp he hadn’t even felt any pain. One moment she’d been waiting patiently, and the next she’d gone straight for the kill with zero hesitation. He couldn’t read her. He couldn’t imagine what she might throw at him.
“Here he comes!” Fremy shot at Goldof, who was charging at her, spear raised. The bullet hit Goldof’s armor, sending him flying back. But once he landed, he immediately began another assault.
“What is that armor?” Fremy was shocked. Goldof’s armor was special, but Goldof himself was even more so. Fremy’s gun should have hurt him despite the armor.
Goldof thrust his spear out, and Adlet and Fremy leaped off to either side. Mora took advantage of the moment to make a grab at Fremy, and Nashetania’s sword stabbed toward Adlet’s heart.
“Nashetania! I will hold Fremy in check! You and Goldof kill Adlet!” yelled Mora.
But Fremy would not allow that, scattering tiny bombs from beneath her cloak. The blast forced Mora back, and the smoke clouded Goldof’s field of vision.
“Why are you getting in our way?” Goldof asked Fremy, though he chose not to press further and focused on targeting Adlet alone.
But Fremy instantly reloaded and fired at the knight’s feet. The bullet did not pierce his armor, but Goldof lost his balance and fell to the ground. “I’ll hold these two back! Run, Adlet!” she cried.
Adlet wavered. He had only just declared that he would protect Fremy, and now he was going to leave her and run off alone? But he was exhausted and had few weapons left. There was little chance he could still win a fight, even if it was one-on-one. “I will keep you safe, Fremy! I’m the strongest man in the world!” Adlet shouted as he made his escape.
Fremy smiled oh so faintly, as if to say, That again?
Adlet ran through the hazy forest. His goal was the temple and Hans.
“You won’t get away!” Nashetania was hard on his heels. She unleashed attacks on him, one after another, from the earth and from tree trunks.
Adlet was headed toward the temple. Right now, Nashetania believed that Adlet had left Hans on death’s doorstep. If he could correct that misunderstanding, he should be able to end the fight. He threw a smoke bomb behind him to obstruct Nashetania’s field of vision and tossed pain needles to slow her down. He would use each of his few remaining tools. He just had to reach the temple somehow. Once they found Hans, this battle with Nashetania would be over.
“Goldof! Mora! What are you doing?!” Nashetania yelled over her shoulder. But she received no reply. Just as Fremy had promised, she was holding the other two in check. Now Adlet knew he could get away.
The sun had already begun to set. They had been trapped in the forest for nearly a whole day, and it had been a long battle. All the other Braves had chased Adlet while he carried Fremy over his shoulder. He had fought Hans and skirmished with Chamo, and after that, Fremy had almost killed him. Every time, Adlet had been injured. His body was nearing its limit. But this encounter would be the last. If he could get away this time, he would be able to rest for a while. He would meet up with Hans, and make Nashetania stop attacking him, and then the three of them could go help Fremy.
Adlet still didn’t know who the seventh was, and neither did he know how the fog had been created. But Hans and Fremy were on his side. He could make everyone stop fighting and get them to talk instead.
After the string of smoke bombs, Nashetania completely lost sight of Adlet. At this point, he had used up nearly all the tools from his pouches. But that wouldn’t be a problem. The temple was close. Adlet yelled, “Hans!”
No answer. He could see no sign of anyone near the temple.
“Hans! Are you there? If you are, come out!” Could he be inside? wondered Adlet, and he called out to Hans again and again. But still, nothing. “Where’d you go? Hans! Chamo! Where have you gone?!” Adlet looked at the crest on his right hand. All six of the petals were still on the flower, so all six members, including Hans and Chamo, were still alive. But where had they gone? Had they fallen for one of the seventh’s traps? Or had Chamo left Hans on the brink of death?
“Who are you looking for? You’re the one who felled Hans.” Nashetania’s outline swayed as she appeared from the forest.
“Why? Where did they go?” Adlet muttered. Or…could it be? Was Hans the seventh? Had Hans been patiently waiting for Nashetania do his dirty work?
Nashetania attacked. Adlet jumped up and ran across the roof of the temple, escaping to the opposite side. There was no time to reequip himself.
“Wait, you!” she ordered.
Adlet had to get away. But where should he run? How could he escape? He had no more tools.
As darkness gradually fell, Adlet ran desperately through the forest. But his wounds were grave, his exhaustion extreme, and he was already running out of energy.
“There you are!” Nashetania mercilessly ran him down. How long could he continue to evade her attacks? He knew he wouldn’t last much longer.
“You’re still going to run?!” she called after him.
Adlet had already given up on finding Hans. There was only one option left: to solve the mystery of the seventh, to reveal the truth to Nashetania and prove he wasn’t the impostor. That was the only way. But Adlet couldn’t solve the problem of the mist. He wouldn’t be able to convince Nashetania unless he could explain the mystery and prove what had happened.
Adlet thought. How could they have created fog? Fog. Fog. Fog. Fog. Fog. As he turned it over in his mind, his movements slackened. One of Nashetania’s blades pierced his side. Adlet crumpled against a tree trunk.
“I’ve finally caught you.” Nashetania slowly faded into view.
When Adlet saw her face, he remembered the day they had departed together on their journey. He’d been surprised when he’d first seen her. He’d never imagined that a princess would pretend to be a maid to come see him. Back then, he’d figured he’d just made a good friend. He’d felt that if they were together, he needn’t fear the Evil God. Why is this happening? he wondered. Someone who was supposed to be on his side was attacking him, and he was about to lose his life.
“Listen, Nashetania,” he said.
“To what?”
“I’m your ally.”
Nashetania giggled and pointed her sword at him. Its blade extended to pierce Adlet’s ear. “It’s far too late for that sort of nonsense.” Nashetania was smiling but regarded him as if he were vermin.
I didn’t know she was capable of an expression like that , thought Adlet. When they’d first met, she’d seemed so cheerful and lighthearted. But she was also a warrior worthy of being chosen as a Brave—of course she’d have fangs.
“You’re a fool,” she said. “If you had only surrendered and confessed, you could have had an easier death.”
“I’m not gonna confess to anything. I haven’t done a single thing wrong,” said Adlet. He knew she wasn’t going to listen.
She hadn’t been like this when they first met. She had been bubbly and fun. Chomping raw carrots and half-jokingly tossing blades at him. What had they talked about then? Oh, about the Brave-killer. He couldn’t have imagined that very killer would become one of his allies.
The Brave-killer. When Adlet remembered that word, something about it bothered him. But the flash of insight failed to take shape and instead instantly disappeared.
“It’s no use,” said Nashetania. “You won’t deceive me again. You hatched a plan to trick us. You fooled us all and even hurt us. It’s quite clear that you are the impostor.”
“I’m not lying. You’re the one getting tricked. The enemy is using you to try to kill me.” But she wasn’t listening. “I haven’t killed any of our allies,” he insisted. “I’m not scheming to trap everyone, either.”
Slowly, she pointed her blade at Adlet’s heart.
Can I block it? Adlet wondered. If he was lucky, he could probably survive. But Adlet’s arms were leaden. If he were to block this attack, then what? It would be the next attack that would kill him, then, or the one after that. Pain and exhaustion robbed him of his willpower.
I’m cold , he thought. I wonder why I’m so cold? Yesterday when I was traveling with Fremy, it was so hot.
“I’ve told you, you shan’t fool me anymore,” said Nashetania. The tip of her sword was level with his heart. Adlet wasn’t listening. He was just thinking about how cold he was. “You are the seventh,” she said. The blade extended.
Instantly, Adlet’s arms moved. He crossed them both in front of his body, thrusting them out between himself and the oncoming blade. He heard the sound of his flesh parting. His bones had blocked the blade. His left arm was broken, and the right had just barely stopped the attack. “…Cold?” he muttered.
“Don’t bother,” said Nashetania, piercing him deeper.
But Adlet pushed back. He shoved her sword back and to the side. Nashetania lost her balance, staggering. His left arm still impaled, Adlet stood and broke off the sword. Nashetania seemed bewildered by his sudden resistance.
“Sorry!” he yelled. He kicked off on Nashetania’s face with the sole of his boot. She released her sword, pressing her hands where the blow had landed. He took a second step on her face, thwacking her jaw with his heel, and then he turned and dashed away from her. Life had returned to his eyes. Why did I never notice? he wondered.
The answer had been right there in front of him. It had been so close, he felt pathetic for having failed to recognize it. The Phantasmal Barrier was cold.
“Ngh! I won’t let you get away!” she yelled after him.
Adlet used his mouth to extract the blade stuck in his arm. Nashetania was pursuing him, but Adlet ignored her and barreled forward. Blades came at him from the earth and the air, but he just plowed straight ahead, praying he wouldn’t be hit. He couldn’t prove his innocence here. If he wanted to do that, he had to run.
“Princess! Are you safe?” Distantly, Adlet heard Goldof’s voice. He could faintly see the silhouettes of Goldof and Mora within the fog. He could also see that Fremy was slung over Mora’s shoulder. She was struggling, trying to break free of Mora’s restraints.
Adlet was glad to see that Fremy was safe. She had fought well and had managed to survive. Now all Adlet had to do was solve the mystery of the seventh.
“Don’t worry about me! Follow Adlet!” Nashetania called back.
Goldof commenced his attack. He mowed down trees as he lunged with his spear. Adlet turned the thrust aside with his sword. Though he had avoided the strike, Goldof’s huge frame threw Adlet backward. Adlet was grateful for that. Goldof had propelled him in the direction he’d been heading anyway. At this point, sprinting was painful.
“Run!” Fremy yelled from where she lay slung on Mora’s back. She twisted her body, loosening her bonds just a bit so she could turn toward Goldof and Nashetania to fling a bomb. It slowed them down just a bit.
Adlet ran and ran. Finally, Goldof caught up to him and forced him to the ground. “This is as far as you go, Adlet,” he said.
Adlet had collapsed about ten minutes from the temple. The bodies of a few dozen fiends were lying in the area. The day before, when Adlet, Nashetania, Goldof, and Fremy had seen the fiends bombing the temple, the four of them had encountered and battled fiends on their way toward the building. Adlet had broken through their lines and gone ahead while Nashetania finished off the demons. This was where that battle had transpired.
“I’m sorry, Goldof. I was unable to finish him.” Nashetania jogged up to them.
“What are you talking about, Your Highness? You did a fine job running him down.” Goldof gripped Adlet even tighter, and the young warrior had no strength left to resist.
“You did well, Goldof. Kill him,” said Mora as she caught up to them, still holding Fremy.
“No! Stop! Please, Adlet! Get away!” On Mora’s shoulder, Fremy struggled.
“Your Highness, Lady Mora, rather than killing him, we should extract information. If we kill him, we will not know who the mastermind behind this is,” suggested Goldof.
“It won’t work, Goldof,” said Mora. “He will not speak. He is a frighteningly stubborn man.”
“That’s right. We should kill him immediately,” agreed Nashetania.
“Let go! Let me go, Mora!” Fremy struggled as hard as she could, but she couldn’t shake free.
It appeared that Adlet was cornered…but he was smiling. Why?
Because he saw the silhouette approaching Mora from behind.
“…Huh?” The moment Nashetania spotted that shape, the sword slipped from her hand.
“You took way too long. Just where the hell were you?!” Adlet chided Hans, who’d finally decided to show up, and Chamo, who trailed behind him.
“Sorry. I was lookin’ for ya.” Hans awkwardly scratched his head. It sounded as though he knew that he shouldn’t have left the temple. Well, there was no point blaming him. It had been a close call, but they’d made it in time.
“…Huh? Huh?” Nashetania was momentarily stunned. Goldof was also speechless. Nashetania forgot her sword on the ground and ran up to Adlet. “It can’t be…it can’t be…then…” Tears fell from her eyes.
Adlet smiled wryly and said, “Nashetania, you really are powerful. That fight was actually kinda tough. Kinda.”
“What? How can this…” Nashetania covered her face with her hands and began to cry.
Goldof glared at Mora, who still carried Fremy. “Lady Mora. Explain yourself.” He was gripping his spear.
Feigning composure, Mora said, “I apologize. That was a lie. But had I not done this, we would have been unable to hunt down Adlet.”
“Mora, you…” Nashetania regarded her with rage-filled eyes. “Why did you lie to us?!”
“Adlet is the impostor,” she answered. “That fact has not changed. Any and all means were acceptable, if they would gain us victory!”
“You’re wrong! You lied! You tricked us!” Tears in her eyes, Nashetania made a grab for Mora. Goldof moved away from Adlet and cut between the two of them while Fremy escaped Mora’s grasp and ran up to Adlet.
Leaning on Fremy’s shoulder, Adlet slowly stood. “Hey,” he said, using Fremy as a crutch and staggering forward. He spoke quietly, but the others paid close attention. “What do you think makes someone the strongest in the world?” He leaned against a tree trunk and sat himself down on the ground. Fremy pulled a needle and thread from beneath her cloak and began sewing up his wounds. “You need power, technique, knowledge, heart, and luck. All those things,” he said as he gazed at the others and smiled. “The answer’s simple. I am the strongest man in the world. Could anyone else make it this far?”
“Wh-what are you talking about?” Mora sounded confused and panicky.
“It’s about time, isn’t it? Time for me to defeat the seventh,” he said.
Mora seemed stunned. Nashetania and Goldof both looked as if they had been struck by lightning. Chamo was mildly surprised. Fremy’s eyes were filled with expectation as she watched Adlet, and Hans just smirked.
“I’ll give you the answers. I’m going to expose the seventh’s entire plan.”
Then Adlet revealed his deductions. First, he told them what he had told Hans and Fremy—that Private Loren’s instructions for activating the barrier had been lies and that the seventh had activated the barrier after Adlet opened the door. He faltered more than a few times during the explanation—Fremy was treating him without any painkillers.
The only ones who listened intently were Nashetania and Goldof. Mora and Chamo had both apparently already heard his theory up to this point. Most likely, Hans had told them. When Adlet finished the first half of the explanation, he breathed a sigh of pain.
“Hey, you can do this after yer done gettin’ all sewed up. Or I can take over,” said Hans.
“Please. Are you trying to steal my spotlight here?” Adlet said, a casual smile on his face.
“Mora. Will you be okay if he keeps going?” inquired Fremy.
A cold sweat dotted Mora’s forehead and neck. “Wh-what are you talking about?”
“If you’re the seventh, I think it’s about time for you to surrender.”
“Don’t utter such nonsense.” Mora turned to Adlet. “Adlet, your deductions do not hold. There is no way anyone could generate fog. It would take a powerful barrier to generate it—”
Mora rattled on, and Adlet lifted a hand to cut her off. He already knew what she was going to say. “There is. There is just one Saint in the world who could have generated that fog.”
“This is absurd!” Mora groaned.
As he watched her, Adlet let out a grand sigh. He had put on a tough front for Hans, but just talking was difficult. “Mora, you said before that I don’t understand the Saints’ power. But let me tell you this—you Saints don’t understand science. Your powers surpass the powers of science, so perhaps you might not think much of it, but science is an amazing thing.”
“Science?” Mora tilted her head. It seemed she didn’t even quite understand the meaning of the word.
“Do you know what fog actually is?” said Adlet. “Water vapor condenses and turns into fine particles suspended in the air—that is fog. It’s the same principle that makes your breath visible in winter and makes clouds float in the sky.” As he explained, he remembered his master, Atreau Spiker.

Adlet had learned cutting-edge science from Atreau in order to forge his tools—the principles of what made fire burn, the principles of the effects of poison, and even the laws governing the behavior of gases and liquids. If Adlet hadn’t learned those things, he probably wouldn’t have figured out the answer. Though at the time, he’d thought, What’s the use of learning all this junk?
“The warmer the temperature of the air, the more water vapor it can contain,” he continued. “If the air temperature cools suddenly, then water vapor turns back into liquid, becoming little particles that waft through the air. You get that much?”
“Nope,” said Chamo.
Adlet smiled wryly. “Anyway, when the air is damp, if the weather suddenly turns cold, you get fog. That’s all you need to understand.”
“Roger.” Chamo nodded, surprisingly obedient.
“The humidity in this forest is always fairly high,” Adlet explained. “It’s right by the sea, so the sea wind carries the moisture over here. If you can suddenly lower the air temperature within the forest, you could create fog instantaneously.”
“Wait,” said Mora.
She just keeps interrupting over and over , thought Adlet.
“Then how would you lower the temperature so quickly?” she asked. “That would also be impossible without a large barrier created by the Saint of Ice or the Saint of Snow.”
“You’re a hardheaded woman, Mora,” he said. “They didn’t lower the temperature. They raised it.”
Mora was silent for a while. And then she lifted her head as if having realized something.
“It really was a magnificent plan,” said Adlet. “The scale of the idea was extraordinary. To think that they would control nature itself in order to ensnare me.”
“The Saint of Sun…Leura,” murmured Fremy.
Exactly right , thought Adlet.
Immediately after departing on his journey, he’d heard rumors of the Brave-killer. Famous warriors had been assassinated one after another: Matra, the master archer; Houdelka, the swordsman; Athlay, the Saint of Ice; and Leura, the Saint of Sun. When Adlet had first heard that story, one of those had felt out of place: Leura, the Saint of Sun. Though she had wielded incredible power as a Saint, she was so old, she’d have been incapable of fighting. He’d wondered why the killer would have targeted her. And then Adlet had met Fremy. When he found out she was the killer, he’d asked her, Did you kill Leura, the Saint of Sun, too?
Fremy had replied, I don’t know anything about that. Of course she didn’t. It had been six months prior that Fremy’s fiend comrades had betrayed her. She hadn’t killed any potential Braves after that. Leura had gone missing just over a month before all this began. Fremy had not been involved in the assassination of the Saint of Sun.
So then, who had done it?
“Let me ask you one thing, Mora,” said Adlet. “Would it have been possible for Leura, the Saint of Sun, to raise the temperature of this whole area? I bet it would. As we all know, she is famous for being powerful enough to roast an entire castle, if she pushes herself to the limit.”
“I-it would be…possible,” replied Mora.
“Would she still be able to do that now, even at her age?”
“Leura’s lower body has wasted away, and she can’t move from her chair,” said Fremy, in place of the faltering Mora. “But her power over the Spirit of Sun has not been affected by her physical decline.”
Adlet nodded and then entered the crux of his deductions. “Let me explain the seventh’s plan. First, the seventh and their allies abducted Leura, the Saint of Sun, and forced her to cooperate. They probably took her family hostage or something to that effect. Leura raised the temperature of the whole area, as she had been instructed. Most likely, over the course of nearly a month.” Adlet looked over the faces of all present. “You should all remember that when we arrived here, you thought it was unusually hot, right? That was Leura’s power.” Everyone present remembered the previous day’s events and nodded.
“Next, the impostor’s allies attacked the fort and killed all the soldiers in it, and one of them pretended to be a soldier there. Or perhaps some of the soldiers at the fort were allies of the seventh to begin with; we don’t know which. Then the mole told the Braves of the Six Flowers about the Phantasmal Barrier and gave them fake instructions.”
“What if one among us knew how the barrier was really activated?” asked Mora.
“Then the plan would have failed,” said Adlet. “But the chances of that were low, because the king who built it was secretive and told only a limited number of people that the barrier even existed.”
“And then?” asked Mora.
“The seventh used these fiends to lure us to the temple, and when I opened the temple door, they sent a signal. At that signal, a nearby fiend and ally of the seventh killed Leura.” The one who’d sent the signal was the transforming fiend that had been near the temple. Adlet figured that strange laugh had meant it was time to kill Leura. “Once Leura was dead, her power of sun terminated. The temperature suddenly dropped and the fog appeared. We were completely fooled into believing that the barrier had been activated.” At the time, Adlet had felt a shiver run down his spine. But that had not been his mind playing tricks—the air temperature really had been dropping. At the time, he hadn’t even considered that the change in temperature had been part of the enemy’s trap.
“After that, the seventh approached the altar nonchalantly,” Adlet continued, “using our confusion as cover to activate the barrier for real at that point. The rest requires no explanation. All that was left was to wait patiently until I became suspect and everyone decided I was the seventh.”
“Wait! What proof do you have?” demanded Mora. “This is all nothing more than supposition!”
“I’m still not done yet,” said Adlet. Fremy had finished treating him. He tried to stand, but Hans stopped him.
“You leave this part to meow,” said Hans. “You just need to do the explainin’.” Adlet squatted down with the tree trunk at his back. One by one, Hans searched the bodies of the fiends scattered about the area.
Adlet continued. “Now then, the final problem: Where did the seventh hide Leura’s body? She couldn’t have been killed far from the temple, because she had to be close enough for the killer to hear the fiend’s screech that was their signal. The seventh couldn’t be loitering around with Leura’s body, either. There was the possibility that they would run into Mora or Hans or Chamo. They could bury it, but it still might be discovered that way—because we have Chamo.” Chamo’s power was the ability to control the fiends that lived in her stomach. If she had sent earthworm- and lizard-fiends to investigate the ground, she may have been able to find a body.
“This forest is big, but there weren’t many places they could hide that body. Only one, in fact,” he said.
“Meow , I found it,” Hans said as he pointed at one of the fiends. It looked like a crocodile and was about five meters in length. You couldn’t tell unless you looked closely, but its stomach was just a bit swollen.
“Cut it open, Hans.” Adlet swallowed. This was the moment of truth: The only piece of evidence that could prove Adlet’s innocence was right there. Were his deductions correct? Once this fiend was sliced open, they would know. “The only place they could hide the body was inside a fiend.”
Hans drew his sword and sliced open the crocodile’s stomach. The body of an old woman rolled out, soaked in the acid of the demon’s stomach.
“You check, Mora. This granny is definitely Leura, the Saint of Sun, ain’t she?” said Hans.
Mora timidly approached the body and then sank to the ground. “It’s Lady Leura. This woman is Lady Leura.”
Adlet heaved a sigh of relief. Hans took over for him. “Meow then, anybody here still thinkin’ Adlet’s the fake? If ya do, I’d like ya to explain why we’ve got this dead granny here.”
Adlet didn’t think anyone would still have doubts. But Mora stood up and said, “This, too, is a trap! Adlet prepared this body beforehand to convince us that he is one of us!” She continued insisting that Adlet was the impostor…but no one was listening to her opinion anymore.
“If that were the case, Adlet would have divulged his deductions long ago,” said Fremy. “Just how many times do you think he almost died in order to get to this point?”
“I…I…” Mora looked down and kept trying to think of another way she might rebut Adlet. She was the only one who still doubted his authenticity. The situation had reversed. Now Adlet was the one backing the seventh into a corner. At that point, Mora groaned and admitted, “I was wrong. Adlet is not the impostor.”
Still fighting the pain, Adlet sighed. The strength left his body, and his back slid down the trunk of the tree. He thought about pumping a fist, but he just didn’t feel like it. “It’s like I’ve been saying all along. I’m not the seventh.”
His victory had been on thin ice. Adlet had not been entirely certain that this was where Leura’s body had been hidden. The impostor could have decided to be less clever and simply buried it, or they could have killed her outside the barrier. That last part had been sheer luck.
But still, he’d won. He’d exposed the seventh’s plot. How about that? thought Adlet. Who else could make it this far?
“Hey, so who killed Granny?” asked Chamo.
“Probably that crocodile-fiend. It killed her and ate her, and then it died here,” said Adlet.
“Wait. More importantly, which of us is the seventh?!” cried Mora. The rest of them replied to her with silence.
Adlet still didn’t know the identity of their infiltrator. He’d exposed the entirety of the scheme itself but hadn’t managed to acquire any evidence as to who was actually responsible—though he felt there was nothing to discuss at this point.
“Mora, do you understand your position right now?” asked Nashetania. Her words held quiet anger. She picked up the sword she had dropped and pointed it at her fellow Saint. “Fremy, please stay close to Adlet. Goldof, do not let Mora get away.”
Backing up, Mora protested. “Wait, Princess. It isn’t me. What proof do you have?”
“You’re right, there is no proof,” she replied. “But who else could it be? You cannot intend to suggest that the impostor is Fremy?”
I should probably stop her , thought Adlet. There was no evidence. But who else could it be besides Mora? Adlet was convinced that Fremy wasn’t the impostor, and neither was Nashetania. Hans had cooperated with him in revealing the plot, and Adlet had never even suspected Chamo. And Goldof? It didn’t seem likely that such a loyal man would be a traitor. It has to be Mora , he thought.
But as he did, Chamo said, “It’s not Auntie.” All eyes were drawn to her. “Chamo’s got this,” she said, rolling up her shirt to show her stomach. There was a slate tucked under her belt. Adlet had no idea what it was. “After Auntie left, Chamo punched through the temple floor and dug down under it. There was a big box under there with a sword and slate inside.”
Hans took over from Chamo and explained. “The person who made this barrier was damn well prepared. They made a spare altar for activatin’ it and buried it right deep. We had a real rough time diggin’ it up. Didn’t you go into the temple, Adlet? There was a big hole in the floor, wasn’t there?” Adlet shrugged. Nashetania had been chasing him, and it had not been the time for exploring.
“Tee-hee. Chamo’s the one who found it,” boasted the young Saint.
“Well, I was the one who got the idea there might be somethin’ underground,” said Hans.
“But Chamo found it.”
“But I thought of it. Meow. ”
“You can argue over who gets credit later. What’s written on the slate?” asked Adlet.
Hans and Chamo smirked in unison. “There were two,” explained Hans. “One was the same as the one on the altar, and the other one has this written on it. It ain’t in hieroglyphs. It’s somethin’ even I can read.” All present turned their attention to Hans—which was why nobody noticed that the expression of one among them had changed.
“‘In order to activate the barrier once more, after the decorative sword and the broken slate have been removed, the procedure for activation must be repeated. In other words, grasp the sword, drip blood upon it, and then break the slate while reciting the prescribed words,’” Hans read.
“Huh?” Goldof emitted a sound. It made him sound foolish and wasn’t the kind of noise one might imagine coming from him.
Adlet doubted his ears. Next, he doubted his memory. Lastly, he doubted the authenticity of the slate.
He remembered. He remembered what had happened after the four of them had set foot in the temple, before Chamo had walked in.
“Hmm? Meow then, who broke the slate? I don’t know that part,” said Hans.
“When Chamo came in, the slate was already smashed up,” said Chamo. “So who broke it?”
Adlet searched his memory.
“The barrier has been activated. I can’t believe this. Who did it?”
“I don’t know. Sorry, but I have no idea what happened,” Adlet had said, shaking his head.
“Well, let us deactivate it, then. Pardon.” Goldof had been the first to touch it. He had pulled out the decorative sword in an attempt to deactivate the barrier.
“Give me that for a second. The previous generation of Braves made something like this before. Back then, I think they canceled out the barrier like this.” The next one to touch it had been Adlet. He’d put the sword back in again, let a drop of blood fall on it, and attempted to deactivate the barrier. And then, after that…
“Nullify the barrier! Cancel it, you! You stop now! Stop the fog! I will be this barrier’s master!” Nashetania had grabbed the sword. She’d shouted a bunch of different incantations and then finally grew impatient, using the sword to batter the slate on the altar. That was most definitely when the slate had broken.
“Isn’t that nice, Auntie Mora? You were about to get killed,” said Chamo.
“I cannot take this in,” said Mora. “What does this mean?” Chamo smiled at her. Unable to keep pace with the situation, Mora could manage nothing but confusion.
“Adlet, you saw, didn’t ya? Who’s the one who broke the slate?” asked Hans, but Adlet couldn’t reply. “Hey. Do you know, Fremy?” He turned to Fremy instead.
Fremy replied without hesitation. “It was Nashetania.”
Nashetania backed away, her expression frightened. She was speechless. She shook her head very slightly, desperately asserting her innocence. “So the slate, then… B-but I wasn’t trying to activate the barrier—”
“The princess, meow? That’s surprisin’. I thought it was Goldof.” Hans drew his sword, and Chamo put her foxtail to her mouth. Goldof stood in front of Nashetania, holding the two of them in check.
It has to be some kind of trap—or if not, then some kind of mistake. There’s no way she could be the culprit , thought Adlet, and as he did, he searched his memories of the time he’d spent with Nashetania. She’d done nothing suspicious. Not when pretending to be a maid to visit his prison cell. Not when he’d been chosen as a Brave or when they’d set out on their journey together. Not when they’d saved the villagers from fiends. Not when they’d been separated and met up again later. Not when she and Goldof had attacked Fremy, deeming her the enemy. Or even when they’d approached the temple when it was being bombed.
“…Ah.” A small cry slipped from Adlet’s throat. On the way to the temple, the four of them had been waylaid by fiends. During the fight, Nashetania had said, Adlet. Please head for the temple. We will take over here!
Why hadn’t he noticed? There’d been one important prerequisite for this scheme to work—and that was that one of the six Braves had to arrive at the temple first. Adlet had gone ahead because Nashetania told him to, and then when he’d arrived at the temple, he’d fallen into the seventh’s trap.
“It’s one thing after another, isn’t it? Don’t worry. I will protect you.” Goldof’s entire body emitted an aura that spoke of barely contained violence. He protectively shielded Nashetania behind him.
“The princess? It cannot be…” Mora was unable to act, utterly at a loss.
Hans and Chamo slowly approached Nashetania. Fremy drew her gun and stood at the ready. Nashetania drew her sword and looked pleadingly at Adlet. “Adlet, say something, please. I’m not the seventh.”
No, she’s not the impostor , is what Adlet tried to say, but what came out of his mouth was something else. “It can’t be. Is it true, Nashetania?”
“Adlet…” When Nashetania heard that, suddenly her expression changed. She went from frightened and forlorn to empty and listless. And then she smiled. It was a dignified and cheerful display, just like the one she’d had on her face when they’d first met. “I concede,” she said.
“Huh?” Adlet was stunned.
Nashetania sheathed her sword, raised both hands, and said, “Do you not understand that? I concede. It means I surrender.”
None were able to speak. None were able to move. They were all taken aback by the look on Nashetania’s face and her indifferent remarks. They could do nothing but stare.
“Your Highness…what are you talking about?” asked Goldof.
“Like I said, Goldof. I’m the seventh.” Nashetania patted his shoulder as he stood frozen in place. It was as if she were saying, Good job, now you can go home. “Sorry,” she said, walking around him to stand in the center of the crowd. “Perhaps I could have held out a little longer. But if Adlet doesn’t believe me, I’m sure I would have been unable to convince the rest of you, no matter what I said.” And then she considered the group and said, “I bungled this one. I knew that there was a backup set of ritual tools, but not that the method for activating the barrier was written on them. I should have been more prepared. But to think I would fail to defeat even one of you… I thought that, at worst, I could shave down your numbers by two.” Nashetania was calm. She was not timid, not apologetic, and she was not confused. “I think the reason I failed was that I was simply not proactive enough. I had so many options open to me—I could have approached Adlet and caught him off guard, or I could have simply killed Goldof. Any number of options were available to me, but I let all those chances slip by. Up until halfway through, it was all going so well.”
Adlet heard what she was saying, but her words weren’t reaching his brain.
“Hans,” she continued, “I had thought that most likely, you would be the most annoying of my enemies. I devised a number of ways to pin the deed on you and get you killed, but…it all came to nothing. What a disappointment. Well, I was right to predict that you would be the strongest of the lot. If you hadn’t been here, I would not have lost.” Smiling, Nashetania swept her gaze over the crowd. “What’s wrong? You’ve all gone quiet.”
When Adlet saw that smile, he thought that maybe Nashetania wasn’t the enemy, after all. The way she was so up front about it made it hard to doubt her. He even began thinking that perhaps it had been right that she had caught him in her trap.
“Wh…,” Mora squeezed out, “why did you think to kill us…? No, you really did intend to kill us, so…you were allied with the Evil God, with the intention of destroying the world…” Mora was so shocked, she couldn’t speak properly.
Nashetania frowned slightly. “Perhaps all this was unnecessary. Perhaps I should have revealed everything to you and asked for your cooperation. There’s no point in that now, though.”
Then Goldof knelt at Nashetania’s feet. “Your Highness! Please, tell me! Just what on earth are you trying to do?! I will follow you!”
Nashetania looked down at him and smiled wryly. “The truth is, Goldof, I thought you might become my ally. If you had said nothing, kept your silence, and done as I ordered, I would have told you what was really going on. But you…” She trailed off and put her hand to her mouth. A mean look on her face, she giggled. “I had no idea you would say something like that.” Had something happened with Goldof? But that didn’t matter.
“Chamo wants to know, though, Princess. Why’d you wanna kill us?” inquired the little Saint.
“Oh yes, about that.” Nashetania put her hand to her heart and said sincerely, “I really do wish for peace. I want to create a world where the Evil God, fiends, and humans can live together without strife. That was my goal in putting this plan into action.”
Adlet couldn’t say a word. He didn’t even understand what she meant.
“I have no ill will toward any of you,” she continued. “But I must revive the Evil God. To that end, I was forced to eliminate the Braves of the Six Flowers, no matter what.”
“I don’t…I don’t understand what you mean. What are you talking about, Princess?” Mora sounded utterly confounded.
Nashetania ignored her and continued. “I have a request for you all. Would you please withdraw? I will deal with the Evil God once it has revived. I will not allow it to destroy the human world, because I love both humans and fiends equally.”
“Princess, please. Explain in a way we can understand,” said Mora.
“Let me put it simply,” said Nashetania. “My goal is to replace the hearts of fiends in order to force them to reconcile with humans.”
That doesn’t make any sense , thought Adlet. What she’s saying is absurd. But even so, he listened. Perhaps he’d just been swallowed by the atmosphere of the moment, or perhaps it was her charisma.
“S-so…we reconcile, and then there’s world peace?” said Hans. Even he was overwhelmed.
“Yes, that’s right,” Nashetania replied. “Though I will not say there is no danger. There will be some sacrifices. But really just a few.”
“How many?” asked Fremy.
“I estimate that it will not be more than approximately five hundred thousand human lives.” Nashetania rattled off the figure as if it were a simple matter of course. Her voice was filled with confidence.
I don’t get it , thought Adlet. He couldn’t understand any of it—not what she was trying to do, not what she was thinking. What he saw there was a monster with a charming form. “Hans. Fremy. Mora. Chamo,” he said. He turned to his dazed allies. “Kill her!”
Roused by Adlet’s words, Hans drew his sword and dashed forward. Chamo put her foxtail in her mouth and spewed up fiends. Mora clenched her fists and threw a punch at Nashetania. The first attack to connect was Mora’s fist. She smashed Nashetania’s head in one hit. But…
“So trying to explain it to you was useless, after all.” Nashetania stood there, her head caved in as if it were nothing. Her body crumpled. Armor, clothing, and all, she transformed into something mud-like. “What a disappointment.” The voice came not from the mud that had been Nashetania, but from the forest around them. “Good-bye, Goldof. It’s really a shame we couldn’t go together.”
“What was that…?” trailed off Goldof.
“A fiend technique. And that of a high-level fiend, too,” said Adlet.
“And Fremy,” Nashetania continued. “I feel that perhaps you and I could understand each other.”
“Meow! She should still be close!” said Hans.
“Let us see each other again sometime,” the voice finished.
Hans ran in the direction from which it had been emanating, chasing after Nashetania alongside Chamo’s fiends.
“Fremy! Take care of Adlet!” Mora said, sprinting into the forest. Goldof, who had been momentarily frozen, ran off, too. Only Adlet and Fremy remained behind, alone.
“No way…Nashetania? I can’t believe it,” Adlet moaned. The moment the identity of the seventh had come to light and he could relax, pain had assaulted him.
Fremy moved Adlet from his perch against the tree and laid him down on the ground. “Don’t speak, Adlet. You’ve pushed yourself too hard.”
“Pushing myself too hard…is my special technique.” Adlet smiled.
Fremy’s face hovered just above his. “You’ve lost too much blood. Hold on. This isn’t much, but I have some tonic.”
“You’ve gotten a lot nicer… You should’ve been like this from the start.”
“I told you not to talk,” Fremy ordered, fishing within her cloak.
As Adlet watched her, he thought of when they met. When he’d first seen her, he’d found her beautiful and wanted to protect her. There had been no logic in those desires. Even now that he knew she was the daughter of a fiend, knew she was the Brave-killer, those feelings had not changed. “Hey, Fremy. Do you like me?” he asked.
The hand that had been searching beneath her cloak stopped. Fremy looked at Adlet and said, “I hate you.” She averted her eyes as she spoke. But she didn’t sound upset.
“Why?” he asked.
“When I’m with you, I want to live.”
When Adlet heard that, he smiled. I won’t let you die , he tried to say. But the words wouldn’t come out, and his mouth wouldn’t move right.
“Adlet!” His vision suddenly narrowed. Fremy was slapping his cheeks. She seemed to be yelling something, but he couldn’t hear.
“No…on’t di…me……”
Don’t worry, I’m just closing my eyes for a bit , he tried to say, but his lips would move no more.
Something soft touched his lips. A stimulating liquid poured into his mouth, down his throat, and into his stomach. And then Adlet’s consciousness fell into darkness.