Rokka no Yuusha - Volume 2 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 
The Traitor’s Truth 

When Mora had first met Rolonia, the girl had had nothing. 
Six months after making her agreement with Tgurneu, Mora received troublesome news. She learned that someone unworthy of Sainthood received the power of the Spirit at the Temple of Spilled Blood. The new Saint was apparently an orphan who had been working at the temple as a servant. She was stupid, lacked any redeeming features, and seemed entirely unfit for the responsibility. Apparently, the girl did not want to be a Saint. Mora would have preferred to leave such miscellaneous matters to Willone, if possible, but custom dictated that the Temple Elder’s approval was required for a Saint to resign, so Mora had no choice but to head to the Temple of Spilled Blood. 
When she arrived, she found the new Saint doing laundry at the back of the temple by the well. Mora had been told that this was her only job. The maid’s uniform she wore was dirty, and her hands were cracked all over. The miserable expression deeply etched into her face illustrated she was entirely used to being on the receiving end of ire. 
I don’t have time to be dealing with this , Mora thought before she addressed the girl. “Are you the newly chosen Saint of Spilled Blood?” 
When the girl realized she was being spoken to, she stood up and turned around. The moment Mora saw the girl’s eyes, a faint current ran through her body. It was a sign detectable only by those who knew battle—a sign that this girl was powerful. Mora sensed this timid-looking girl was already in the possession of abilities that were not to be underestimated. 
“I-I’m sorry. I’m the one who frayed the undergarments so badly. I’m sorry!” The girl seemed mistaken about why Mora had come as she bowed her head over and over. 
“I want to ask you something.” Mora gently took her hands. “Could you manipulate your blood to heal these cracks?” 
“Huh? What? Um…I was just chosen as a Saint by mistake, I can’t…” 
“I asked whether you can do it or not. Just try.” 
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, um…” The girl stared hard at her fingertips, then sent her power into them. Red enveloped her hands as they warmed. Before their eyes, the skin of the girl’s hands grew healthy once more. 
Those elected by the Spirits are not generally able to use their powers immediately. Saints trained in order to control their power, communing many times with their Spirit in order to finally become a fully fledged Saint. Mora knew this girl had unique talents. “I am Mora, Saint of Mountains. What’s your name?” 
“It’s Rolonia Manchetta. I’m just a servant.” The girl bowed again and again. 
As Mora watched, her thoughts were elsewhere. A while back, an idea had come to her, but she’d written it off as impossible. Perhaps, with this girl, she might be able to actually make it happen. It was a disgraceful idea—and a disgraceful plan. 
Mora immediately took Rolonia into the custody of All Heavens Temple and determined that she would be given special Saints’ education. She also announced that she would train the newest of their number to be one of the Braves of the Six Flowers within the next three years. Many of the Saints were against this. They all said that although Rolonia might have the qualities necessary to be a Saint, she didn’t have what it took to be a warrior. And they were right—clearly, Rolonia was not suited for fighting. But Mora faced down the opposition and took her into All Heavens Temple. 
Rolonia was constantly flustered, frightened, panicked, and crying. 
First, Mora taught her the skills that the Saint of Spilled Blood would need: how to heal wounds, how to manipulate her whip by controlling the blood within it, how to analyze blood by taste, and how to control her opponent’s blood so as to wound them fatally. Just as Mora had expected, Rolonia had unbelievable talent. It took practically no effort for her to absorb these skills. 
Next, Mora instructed Rolonia to learn from powerful warriors from all over the world. She’d had the old hero Stradd Camus teach her the mindset of the warrior and the legendary strategist Tomaso Halderoy drive the fundamentals of strategy into her head. She’d had the fiend specialist Atreau Spiker instruct her on the creatures she would encounter. 
But, as Mora had predicted, Rolonia wasn’t warrior material. When she met an enemy, she was immediately frightened. But worse, she was afraid of hurting her foes. No matter how many Saints’ techniques she learned, there was no sign that she would overcome these things. A warrior had to be arrogant. You had to believe in your own strength before you could defeat your enemies. But Rolonia was completely incapable of doing that. 
She had been bullied by the acolytes for a long time. Throughout her childhood, she had been told that she was clumsy and forgetful and would always be useless. She was convinced that she couldn’t do anything. Someone who doesn’t believe they can get stronger never will. 
“Hey, boss,” said Willone one day, helping Mora train Rolonia. “You need to give up already. That kid isn’t gonna be a Brave. She isn’t cut out for a fighting role. She’s suited to being a healer.” 
“No, Willone. I can tell—she will be a great warrior,” said Mora, but she wasn’t confident about it, either. 
“Rolonia is a good girl. Healing and recovery techniques are more her style. It’d be better for her to go around helping the sick and the injured, like Torleau does. Why can’t you get that?” 
Willone was right, and Mora knew it. But Mora needed Rolonia for her plan, no matter what. Her protégé had to grow to become one of the strongest warriors in the world and be chosen as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers. Mora couldn’t tell Willone or Rolonia about her plan. There was no way she could tell anyone in the world that she intended to use this girl to kill one of the Six Braves. “Trust me, Willone. I will turn her into a fine warrior.” 
When Rolonia had returned from the mountain where fiend specialist Atreau Spiker lived, Mora summoned her to her quarters and offered her wine. Confused, the girl brought the cup of alcohol—the first she’d ever had in her life—to her lips. 
“Rolonia, have you ever felt the desire to become a warrior?” 
Eyes on the ground, Rolonia replied, “I felt that way…a little bit, just once.” Mora was surprised. “I…made a friend. At Master Atreau’s place. He was training to be one of the Braves of the Six Flowers…and he was trying really hard.” 
What happened while she was with Atreau? Mora wondered. 
“I thought if I could become a warrior and be chosen as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers, maybe I could be useful to him.” Rolonia flailed. “S-someone like me shouldn’t be thinking of that sort of thing, though, right? Like being one of the Braves of the Six Flowers, that would be crazy. I mean, there’s so many other powerful warriors out there, like you and Willone—” 
“Rolonia.” Mora stood from her chair, took her guest’s hand, and bowed her head. 
“Lady Mora…wh…wh-wh-why are you…?” 
“I regret what I’m doing to you.” 
“Um…” 
“Please. Be a warrior, for me. Battle the fiends by my side. I need you, whatever it takes.” 
“Me? But…but…” 
“It must be you!” Mora yelled. Rolonia trembled. 
“I cannot say why. All I can do is bow my head and beg of you. Tell me you will be my warrior with no complaints. I need you.” 
Rolonia shook her head, her voice frightened as she spoke. “I’m afraid, Lady Mora. I don’t know what I should do. I mean…this is the first time…anyone’s ever needed me.” 
“Everyone has a first time.” 
“…But…” 
Mora knew that there was virtue in Rolonia more powerful than anyone else’s. More than anyone Mora knew, Rolonia was glad to be useful to others. 
“What should I do if I just can’t? It’s not going to work out, anyway.” 
“…Do your very best. That’s enough. I ask for nothing else.” 
“…I understand. I’ll do everything I can. If I just have to try my hardest, I think I can manage that.” Then Rolonia gave her the faintest smile. In her smile was the joy of having someone rely on her for the very first time, the gladness of being useful for the very first time. That was the first time that Mora ever saw Rolonia smile. 
After that, her student changed—just a little. She became less frightened. She apologized for no reason less often. And she had become serious about gaining strength. 
It must have been about one year earlier that Mora had found Rolonia in the arena at All Heavens Temple doing something strange. In the center of the arena, there was a doll made of bundled straw. The words Fiend! Really bad guy! were inked on its chest. Rolonia was standing in front of the doll, screaming, “You jerk! I hate you! You’re my enemy! A bad guy!” 
Willone stood behind her. “No, no! More anger! One more time!” 
“I-I’ll…beat you up! I’ll clobburb you!” Seemingly not used to yelling, Rolonia occasionally garbled her words. 
“That’s a little better. Do it like that.” 
“I-I’ll slaughter you! You putrid monster! Go to hell! I’ll make sure your heart never beats again!” 
Willone patted Rolonia on the shoulder. “That’s it! You’ve got it, Rolonia!” 
“I did it, Willone!” The pair embraced in the middle of the arena. 
Impatient, Mora cut in. “Now can I ask just what it is you’re doing?” 
Scratching her head, Willone explained. “Well…Rolonia just doesn’t want to fight bad enough. Like, she lacks that aggressive spirit, you know? So I’ve been thinking that maybe she could make up for that by practicing venting her anger at an enemy, like this.” That didn’t lessen Mora’s exasperation at all. 
“Um, Lady Mora, I think this is really good. I think maybe doing this could make me stronger.” 
“If it works, then that’s fine, I suppose.” Mora was nonplussed. 
“It sounds like you don’t really know much in the way of insults, Rolonia,” said Willone. “You have to expand your vocabulary, too.” 
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.” 
“It’s okay, I’ll teach you. Listen, Rolonia. There are probably more than a hundred different ways out there to tell someone to go to hell.” 
“Really? Please teach me, Willone!” 
When the two of them were about to leave the arena together, Mora called out to them. “Have you forgotten, Rolonia? Today you’re studying healing techniques with myself and Torleau.” 
“Oh…that’s right. I’m sorry, Willone.” 
“Oh, it’s fine,” Willone replied. “See you tomorrow.” 
Mora took Rolonia with her, and they headed out to the infirmary, where Torleau was waiting for them. “Today’s class will be tough,” said Mora. “You’ll be taking part in Torleau’s surgery. While she’s excising the affected part, keep the blood circulating and the heart moving. Curtail any bleeding to prevent the patient’s death by blood loss. You will also be using techniques to increase blood volume. Stay sharp.” 
“Yes, ma’am!” 
Rolonia’s progress had been remarkable. She had learned the healing arts and enthusiastically studied human anatomy. Her healing abilities were now no less than Mora’s. And, though progress was slow, she was also learning combat. Mora knew that Rolonia possessed one other virtue, too—when she tried in earnest, she did so to an impressive degree. She was extremely dedicated. 
Just as Mora had planned, Rolonia improved. One year later, she progressed to the level where it wouldn’t be unexpected for her to be chosen as a Brave of the Six Flowers. 
Mora could not tell Rolonia of her true intentions—that the real reason she had nurtured her thus far was for the sake of killing one of the Braves. It would be a lie to say Mora had no pangs of conscience. But she had no choice but to do it—for her beloved daughter and for herself. 
“The time for you to be useful to me has come, Rolonia,” Mora murmured as she ran to the Bud of Eternity, eyes to the east, toward the girl. 
Adlet’s party of four crawled on their hands and knees along the hill in the dark. They illuminated the ground with their light gems, searching for the evidence their leader had instructed them to find. 
There were many remnants of their battle on this hill. The bodies of a number of fiends. The poison needles that Adlet had thrown. The bullets Fremy had fired. The footprints where Mora’s feet had plunged deep into the ground. The lashes of Rolonia’s whip. Adlet examined these as he searched his memory, going out to try to locate the place where this evidence should be. He pushed aside the sparsely growing grass and smoothed the dry sand, carefully searching. He had to keep an eye on where he was stepping, too. The thing they were searching for was very small. If one of them kicked it by accident, it would probably fly off somewhere, and if they stepped on it, it might be crushed. 
It was nearly the time they had promised Mora and the others they would return. Adlet lifted his head and looked to the west. Were they safe? And was Tgurneu still inside the barrier? 
“Meow! ” After about ten minutes of looking, Hans had already admitted defeat. 
“Don’t be so loud,” said Adlet. “You’ll attract enemies.” 
“I can’t take no more of this. There’s nothin’ I hate meowr than rummagin’ through a haystack to find a needle,” complained Hans, sprawled out on the ground. 
Adlet paid him no mind and continued his search. 
“What’re ya thinkin’, Adlet? How does findin’ somethin’ like that prove anything?” 
“I don’t have time to explain.” 
“You’ve figured it out, right? The answer to Tgurneu’s mystery? That’s all ya need.” 
It didn’t work like that. Adlet’s idea was far too fantastical. He himself would not believe it until he saw the proof with his own eyes. 
“Let’s stop lookin’ for this thing and hurry back. I’m worried about the others,” said Hans. 
“Th-they’ll be okay,” said Rolonia. “Lady Mora is at the Bud of Eternity. If anything happens, she should be able to manage things, somehow.” 
“Rolonia, why do ya trust Mora so much?” asked Hans. “She’s pretty suspicious.” 
“She’s a great woman. I can’t even imagine she could be our enemy.” Hans didn’t reply. Still sprawled on the ground, he scratched his neck. 
Mora’s clairvoyance alerted her to something unusual. Seven fiends were nearing the Bud of Eternity. They stopped right at the edge of the barrier, where the repulsion force didn’t reach. 
“What do you want?” she asked. 
“Commander Tgurneu has ordered us to hèlp you kill one of the Braves of the Six Flowers.” The one that spoke was one of the commander’s companions from before, the stone man-fiend. 
Just how well prepared is Tgurneu? The thought made Mora shiver. 
“It seems thère was no need for us to come. You’re just the kind of person Commander Tgürneu knew you were. We saw you a moment agö with Fremy over your shoulder.” 
Mora raised her fists and answered coldly, “Leave this place. Now. Go to the southern edge of the mountain and feign death. Stay there and await my direction.” 
“You still havén’t killed her? Why not?” 
“I have no need to tell you.” 
“Don’t you wänt to save your daughter?” 
“If you do anything at all contrary to my orders, then this plan to kill a Brave stops immediately. I will reveal that I’m the seventh and surrender myself. This is no bluff.” 
The fiend looked Mora in the eyes for a moment, pondering. At this fiend’s level of intellect, it should not catch on to what she was trying to do. “We häve been told to follow your orders,” said the fiend. 
“Then go now. Or would you die here?” 
The fiends immediately moved out. 
Now Chamo would soon return, having heard the gunshot. Mora had to hurry and prepare. It was two more days until Tgurneu’s deadline. Her only chance was that night. Adlet’s party was busy with figuring out Tgurneu’s mystery, and Chamo did not yet suspect her. That night would be her only chance. There was much to do. She had to incapacitate Fremy and Chamo, then lure the other four back and split them into two groups. She would then create a situation where she, her target, and Rolonia were the only ones present. Then she would fight the target and win. Every step of this plan had to work, or it would fail. 
Mora caught sight of Chamo with her clairvoyant eye. She was astride a gigantic slug fiend, accompanied by five other slave-fiends. “Fremy! You killed Auntie, didn’t you?!” She was making a beeline for the location where Tgurneu had been moments ago. When she found that no one was there, she was confused. “Auntie! Where did you go?! Are you dead?!” Scurrying about on the giant slug, she ordered her fiends to search the area. 
Meanwhile, Mora went into the cave, Fremy slung over her shoulder. Once inside, she pulled a metal tube from her packs and stomped on it. The fluid inside splattered, and Mora kicked it around to disperse it with her feet. 
“Auntie! Are you really dead?! You dummy! Why’d you have to die?!” When Mora checked with her powers, she found that Chamo was still searching for her. “You numbskull! Piece of poop! Weakling! Useless lump! You’re so stupid, Auntie!” Mora couldn’t tell if Chamo was cursing her or worried about her. Despite the seriousness of the situation, she chuckled. 
Then Chamo seemed to realize something and rolled up the hem of her skirt to look at the Crest of the Six Flowers on her thigh. “Oh! She’s still alive.” Apparently Chamo had finally remembered that every time a Brave died, a petal disappeared from the crest. 
Mora began to drip with cold sweat. Next, she had to incapacitate the most powerful Saint alive. If her luck was poor, she would be dead before long. With her mountain echoes, she shouted, “ADLET! CHAMO! COME BACK! IT’S A TRAP!” 
“Auntie?” 
Mora had modulated her cry so it would only reach Chamo. Adlet and the others, on the distant hill, would not be able to hear. 
“Where are you? Where are you, Auntie?!” 
“THE BUD—” Mora cut off before she finished the sentence. That would be enough for Chamo to get it. 
As Mora had expected, Chamo headed back to the Bud of Eternity, all her slave-fiends behind her. The Saint covered the flower that shone inside the cave with a cloth and recited an incantation to snuff out the light gem. 
“Auntie! What happened?!” Chamo burst into the barrier of the Bud of Eternity. When she found no one there, she headed to the cave. 
“Stay away, Chamo!” Mora yelled. 
Chamo stopped at the cave entrance. “What’s wrong, Auntie? Why’s it all dark in there?” 
“Don’t come in. And no lights. No lights.” 
“What happened?” 
Mora didn’t reply. Right now, she was playing for time. Chamo hadn’t noticed that Mora had scattered a certain drug around the dark cave, a drug she’d had Torleau, Saint of Medicine, make for her. Ostensibly, the medicine was for pain and to prevent infection. Technically, it could be used as medicine; Mora had used it earlier to treat Adlet’s wounds after Nashetania had cut him. When Mora had ordered Torleau to make large quantities of this medicine, the doctor had been puzzled. This medicine was potent—too potent, in fact. A solution of half a drop dissolved in water was sufficient. The undiluted solution, when applied directly, would inevitably be harmful. The drug relaxed the body, making the affected person feel intoxicated, as if drunk. It was so potent, a mere sniff would cause a person to stagger. Mora had told Torleau that while the medicine was good, it was not something she could take with her to the Howling Vilelands—but in truth, she had secretly filled a metal tube with the dangerous undiluted solution and carried it with her. 
“What do you mean, no lights?” asked Chamo. 
“Don’t come in. You can do nothing for me.” 
“That’s why I’m asking! What happened?!” 
Mora was being deliberately vague in order to make Chamo stay where she was and inhale the powerful drug. Mora had used the medicine herself many times, building up her resistance to it in order to avoid intoxicating herself—all for this moment. She had done it in preparation for killing a Brave of the Six Flowers. 
“I’ll keep it under control, so stay away.” 
“Sorry, Auntie, but Chamo can’t just do nothing,” Chamo said, slowly entering the cave. Mora was crouched in the back of the cave, watching the other Saint from the darkness. “Keep what under control? Where did Fremy go?” 
“Fremy…ran away.” 
Then Chamo stopped. She looked at Mora. “Hey…you’re acting kinda weird, Auntie.” She’d figured it out, but it was too late. Mora surged to her feet and savagely rushed Chamo. The younger Brave tried to dodge, but she stumbled and fell over. 
“!” The slave-fiends descended upon Mora. The slug spat acid, while the protozoan shot a tentacle at her. Body burning and one arm bound, Mora grabbed Chamo by the neck. 
There were two reasons Mora had been lying in wait inside this cave. First, to ensure the drug would be as effective as possible, and second, to prevent the slave-fiends from attacking all at once. 
Mora wrapped her fingers over Chamo’s carotid artery and squeezed, just enough to avoid crushing it. It was only moments before the drugged girl passed out. When she lost consciousness, the fiends were sucked back into her mouth. 
“Ugh…” Mora groaned. She, too, had been quite affected by the drug. But this was only the middle stage of the battle, and the real fight—the plan to kill one of the Braves of the Six Flowers—was yet to come. 
Still searching the hill, Rolonia lifted her head. Her neck and eyes must have been tired. The four have them had been searching for the evidence for a long time. “I just can’t find it, Addy,” she said tiredly. 
Adlet put a hand on a hand on his forehead, thinking. Perhaps Tgurneu had already destroyed what they were looking for. Maybe it would be better to give up on trying to find it and withdraw. Most of their allotted time was gone. 
“Can I go back neow?” Hans was lying in a sprawl, scratching his butt. 
“Please,” said Rolonia, “um…please put a little more effort into it.” 
“I might put in a li’l effort—if ya pay me fer it, meow . In advance.” 
“I’m sorry. I…don’t have any money at all.” 
Adlet looked toward the mountain, where the Bud of Eternity lay. There had been no contact from Mora. In this case, was no news good news, or did it mean disaster had come to pass? 
That was when Goldof reached out toward Hans’s feet. He picked up something stuck in the ground and showed it to the leader of the party. “Is this it?” 
Adlet examined the dirt-covered thing, then pulled out the solution that reacted to fiend traces and sprayed the item. He watched it turn orange and gulped. 
“Does this thing…tell you…something?” asked Goldof. 
“Meow? Did ya find somethin’?” Hans finally sat up. 
Adlet didn’t even hear the two men speak. Elation welled up from deep in his stomach, making him tremble. “I’ve caught it,” he said. “I’ve finally caught Tgurneu.” Adlet tucked the thing away at his waist and prompted Hans to stand. “We’re going back,” he said before dashing off. The other three, flustered, followed after him. 
“I’ve figured out what Tgurneu really is. Now we just have to come up with a way to kill it,” Adlet said, gloating. “Listen up. Tgurneu is actually—” 
“Wait.” Rolonia cut off his explanation as they ran. 
“…ISHED…” 
Adlet had been so excited that he hadn’t noticed the voice. From the direction of the mountain, he could hear something—Mora’s mountain echo. When Adlet heard her voice, in a flash, the glee in his heart turned to ice. 
“I guess we’re goin’ to have to wait to hear what Tgurneu really is, meow ,” said Hans, and he drew his swords. 
Mora forced Fremy and Chamo, both still unconscious, to swallow the sedative. They wouldn’t awaken for a while now. 
She left the cave and sat down on a rock, covering her face as she curled up. She did so not out of exhaustion or dizziness. “You still hesitate?” she said to herself. Pathetic , came the self-loathing whisper. Mora had thought she’d already made up her mind to do anything for her daughter, but even so, she was still irresolute. The faces of her allies flashed through her mind one after another. Sometimes, they had made her anxious, and she had thought them unreliable. They had also angered her at times. But they were all fine young people. They would surely defeat the Evil God and protect the world. 
Once it was all over, there was no question in Mora’s mind that she would be killed. Knowing she would never see them again, the faces of her husband and daughter rose in her mind. Forget about it , she told herself. She didn’t deserve to see them anymore. From this point on, Mora would fall to the depths of villainy. No—she had been a villain already, for quite some time now. 
The elder Saint stood. Then she used her power of mountain echo and yelled, “ADLET! THE SALTPEAK BARRIER HAS BEEN EXTINGUISHED!” She paused a moment, and then called again, “COME BACK! THE BARRIER HAS BEEN EXTINGUISHED!” 
Their four lights swayed as the group made their way through the Ravine of Spitten Blood. Adlet, Rolonia, Goldof, and Hans were sprinting full speed toward the Bud of Eternity. 
The Saltpeak Barrier had been extinguished. Mora had said just that one thing, and afterward, there was no further contact. Adlet’s heart pounded with anxiety as he wondered why she wasn’t communicating. 
When they emerged from the ravine, the pitch-black shape of the mountain rose in the distance. Adlet noticed the Saltpeak Barrier, which had been covering the whole mountain, was indeed gone. 
“Meow. She didn’t say it was broken . She said it was extinguished . What’s that mean?” asked Hans. 
The barrier had not been broken or breached—but extinguished. Adlet couldn’t imagine what had happened. The mountain was quiet. He could hear no fiends’ voices, no sounds of battle, no nothing. 
Mora stood on the mountain, a little ways up from the Bud of Eternity, as she watched the east. She could faintly see four lights. It looked like it would be a few minutes before they would reach the mountain. She shouted one more time, “ADLET! YOU’RE NOT HERE YET?!” The four lights stopped for a moment and then started running again. They had heard Mora’s mountain echo. “TGURNEU RAN AWAY, AND THE OTHER FIENDS FOLLOWED IT. BUT…AGHH!” She cut her message off there and paused again. It would probably seem unnatural if she sounded too calm about what was going on. “BUT A FIEND I’VE NEVER SEEN BEFORE…HAS ATTACKED THE BUD OF ETERNITY! DAMN IT!” Mora pretended to be gathering her words once more. “HURRY! THE FIEND IS ATTEMPTING TO BREAK THE BUD OF ETERNITY!” she yelled, and then she made a lot of noise, smashing a boulder and punching the ground. The noise would suggest a fight going on there. It was a quiet, dark night. Silence would make them suspicious. 
After hitting the ground a few more times, Mora turned to look behind her. Two of the seven fiends Tgurneu had sent were still there, waiting. Both of them seemed to be superior and intelligent beasts. 
“You two pretend to fight here. Yell as if you’re attacking. Understood?” The fiends nodded. “After about five minutes of fighting, kill yourselves. If you break your word, know that your efforts will have come to nothing.” As Mora punched the ground again, she thought anxiously, Will this deception really work? 
The four lights neared the mountain. A little closer, and they would be within reach of her clairvoyant eye. Mora breathed out a long breath and calmed her heart. Then she began the final stage of her ploy to split up Adlet’s party. “FREMY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?! COME BACK! WHAT IS YOUR INTENTION?!” she yelled. Of course, Fremy hadn’t gone anywhere. She was sleeping inside the barrier of the Bud of Eternity. “FREMY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?! … ADLET! HURRY BACK! FREMY HAS FLED!” 
“Where’d Tgurneu disappear off to?” Hans muttered as they scrambled up the incline. Adlet was wondering the same thing. The Saltpeak Barrier’s disappearance was not the only peculiar thing here. There had been so many fiends, but they were now all gone. Adlet could faintly hear the sound of fighting—but it only sounded like there were a few. Why had the enemy made their move all of a sudden? In just thirty-odd minutes, during the time the four of them had run from the hill to the mountain, the situation had changed dizzyingly fast. Unnaturally fast. 
Unnatural. The word ran through Adlet’s mind. It couldn’t be that all of this was a lie, could it? But now was not the time to be thinking about that. Whether this was real or fake, they still had to get back as quickly as possible. 
“FREMY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!” 
Something had happened again. Adlet wanted to say, What is it this time? as Mora’s call to Fremy reverberated through the mountains. 
“ADLET! HURRY BACK! FREMY HAS FLED!” 
When Adlet heard that yell, he stopped automatically. “What?” Fremy has fled. For a moment, he didn’t even understand what those words meant. 
“Addy, you can’t stop. We have to hurry.” Rolonia tugged Adlet’s hand. But he didn’t move. Hans and Goldof were forced to stop as well. 
“FREMY HAS GONE TO THE SOUTHWEST, THE DIRECTION TGURNEU FLED! I DON’T KNOW WHY!” 
“Meow! What in the heck is she doin’?” Hans said carelessly. Goldof said nothing. He seemed like he was thinking of something, but then again, maybe not. 
“HANS! GOLDOF! HEAD SOUTHWEST AND FOLLOW FREMY! ROLONIA AND ADLET, COME TO MY AID NOW!” Mora’s mountain echo cut off. 
“Fremy…it couldn’t be,” Rolonia muttered as she gazed toward the Bud of Eternity. 
“Meow …so is she the seventh, after all? That answer just don’t seem clean to me.” 
“No way she’s the seventh,” Adlet shot back. Fremy must have had some kind of idea, or if she didn’t, maybe Tgurneu was controlling her. “Hans, Goldof. Can I ask you two to take care of Fremy?” 
Goldof nodded. But Hans shook his head. “Naw, Fremy hates me. I think it’d be better for you to go.” Adlet got the feeling Hans was trying to hint at something else, but before he could ask, Hans grabbed Rolonia’s hand and ran off. “Mya-meow! C’mon, Rolonia!” 
“W-wait, please!” Rolonia stuttered. In a flash, Hans was gone. 
“Let’s go, Adlet,” Goldof said, and Adlet came to his senses. He set out to the southwest, as per Mora’s instructions. 
The four lights split into two groups, one heading southwest and the other running up toward the Bud of Eternity. Now the most difficult part is done , thought Mora. Splitting Adlet’s party into two separate pairs had been the biggest hurdle. If all four of them were acting in accord, or if they had split into a group of three and one person alone, then the plan would have failed utterly. 
“Fiends, Adlet and Goldof are headed straight for your location.” Through her echoes, Mora transmitted orders to the remaining accomplices Tgurneu had sent her. “Hold them in position as long as you live. Once that is done—all of you, die.” 
The fiends stood. Adlet and Goldof didn’t notice anything as they raced along. 
“It’s time to go.” Mora hastened down the mountain at full speed toward Rolonia. 
She had made one miscalculation. The one with Rolonia was Hans. 
The original plan was to kill Adlet. He was weaker than her—one-on-one, she could beat him easily. And the young Brave was the trusting type. If she could catch him off guard, she could probably kill him. Even if she were forced to fight Goldof, she’d have a chance of winning. He was stronger than Adlet, but he still had his weaknesses. But her opponent was Hans. He was cautious and alert, so she probably wouldn’t be able to get him by surprise. Plus, there was no question that he was superior to Mora in terms of combat abilities. 
Oddly enough, Mora wasn’t afraid. Now that she had thrown away everything, she had nothing more to fear. She had only two options: to save Shenira and die, or to fail to save her and die. 
Fists clenched, she raced down the slope. She didn’t have to use her clairvoyance anymore—she could see both of their lights. This contest will be decided the moment we meet , thought Mora. I have to kill him before he draws his swords. 
“Lady Mora?” she heard Rolonia say. 
But right when Mora clenched her fists, about to swing at Hans, he hurled his light gem at her. The tiny lantern flared in her sight for an instant, burning her eyes. “Ungh! ” 
The concentrated light was especially bright to her eyes, accustomed to the darkness. She pressed a hand to her face and stumbled backward. 
“Hans! What are you doing?” Rolonia cried, and in that instant, Mora rolled to the side. She heard the tips of her hair being sliced off, informing her that death had missed her by mere centimeters. 
“Meow-hee-hee. I bungled that one.” 
Mora managed to just crack her eyes open to a squint. Hans was spinning his blades in his hands. 
“Hans! What on earth are you doing?! And Lady Mora, your wounds—” Rolonia pulled out her whip and readied it. When she saw Mora covered in blood, she lost her voice. The suddenness of the situation made her legs tremble, her eyes dart about. She hadn’t grasped what was going on. 
“Adlet woulda been fooled, meow . He’s a dyed-in-the-wool sucker. Agh , dealin’ with such a hardcore bleedin’ heart is a trial, I tell ya.” 
As Mora fought back the pain in her eyes, she raised her fists. “I’ve finally succeeded in luring you out. Give yourself up. Your true identity has already come to light.” This was all to deceive Rolonia. If she could get her protégé on her side, she could turn this battle into a two-on-one. 
“Mya-meow? For the spur of the moment, that’s a pretty good lie. I thought you’d been raised like a lady, but you ain’t half-bad.” Hans was not ruffled. 
“Just what are you talking about? What is going on?!” Rolonia demanded, sounding like she was about to cry. 
“The seventh is Mora, and she’s gonna try to kill me.” 
“The seventh is Hans! He was planning to kill you!” 
Hans and Mora exclaimed at the same time. 
Rolonia just looked back and forth between the two of them, unable to move. She must have understood that there was something wrong with the situation, too, and she may even have noticed that Mora had been lying. But she had only met Hans just that morning, and she had spent the past two and a half years together with Mora. Even if she suspected her mentor, Rolonia wouldn’t be able to fight her. 
“Meow. You just sit tight and watch, Rolonia. If you get in the way, I’ll end up cuttin’ ya both up.” Hans slowly went into action. He approached, shifting in an enigmatic manner that included a lot of seemingly pointless dancing. Rolonia retreated a step, and Mora judged that she would not be able to win her over. 
“Rolonia, don’t interfere,” Mora said, eyes locked on the girl. “Believe in me.” 
Hans immediately dove toward her with blinding speed. Mora blocked the slice aimed at her feet with the iron plate of her boot. The single strike numbed her leg up to the thigh. 
“Hrmya-mya-mya-mya-meow! ” Unrelenting, Hans slashed at Mora. He moved like a cat chasing a toy on a string and smiled like a frolicking kitten. 
“Did you hear that, Goldof?” As they ran, Adlet glanced back behind them. He could just faintly hear the sound of something like an argument, far away. Human voices traveled a long way on the quiet mountain. 
Goldof was looking in the same direction. He’d noticed something was off, too. They hadn’t heard Mora’s echo for a while now, and no matter how Adlet called for Fremy, they didn’t get a single reply back. They hadn’t seen any trace of Tgurneu or other fiends, either. 
Jogging along, they came upon the body of a leopard-fiend, Fremy’s bullet lodged in its head. When Adlet touched the body, he found it was cold. 
“This really is weird. What Mora’s been saying doesn’t make sense.” The boy made up his mind. He would capture Mora and question her. She’d probably been lying about Fremy running away. “I wonder if Fremy and Chamo are safe?” When he checked the back of his right hand, all the petals were present on the crest. They were both definitely still alive. 
Then Goldof drew his spear. “Fiends,” he said. Five enemies had surrounded them, unawares. The two Braves stood back-to-back, and Adlet readied his poison needles and his sword. 
The fiends didn’t attack. They just stayed in a circle, gradually inching in closer. Adlet took advantage of a momentary opening to fire off a needle. The wolf-fiend flinched when the poison dart hit its mark, but as Adlet followed up with a blade, a stone man-fiend’s fist struck at him from the side. After the two exchanged three blows, the stone man withdrew, putting some distance between them to hold Adlet in check. 
When the fiends did not pursue them, Adlet realized they were trying to slow them down, and he figured out Mora’s goal in all of this, too. She was in cahoots with these creatures, luring in the Braves of the Six Flowers and trying to separate them. 
A beast ran silently through the darkness. Without a light, Mora couldn’t see it clearly. The brute was only faintly illuminated by Rolonia’s gem. 
“Hrmeow! ” Hans cried. Crouched low enough to skim the ground, he rushed for Mora with fearsome speed. His swords swept together, scissoring toward Mora’s leg. 
Unable to block the attack, she jumped to dodge his blades. Hans thrust one weapon into the ground to abruptly halt his movement and stabbed at Mora while she was still midair. The assassin’s body was frighteningly flexible, snapping from an unbelievable stance to an unbelievable strike. 
“Gah! ” In the air, Mora crossed her arms, blocking the sword with her iron gauntlets. She may have been a woman, but she was not by any means lightweight in her iron armor. Nevertheless, the thrust effortlessly sent her flying backward. 
Hans scampered like a cat, mercilessly positioning for a follow-up offensive. Still in the air, Mora struck her iron gauntlets together as hard as she could. The shock wave–like sound made Hans flinch slightly. Rolonia, watching from the side, covered her ears reflexively. And the next attack from Hans was ever so slightly slower. “Mya-ha! ” 
When Mora landed, she turned away from her opponent and ran. She had to put some distance between them and get a better position somehow. She was trapped on defense. Hans’s fierce strikes gave her no time to counterattack. She had not anticipated he would be so much stronger than her. Despite her shortcomings, she was still a Saint, one who called upon the power of a Spirit for battle. Her physical speed and strength far surpassed that of a normal human. Hans, on the other hand, was nothing more than his own flesh and blood. 
“Yer not gettin’ away!” 
Mora somehow managed to block the blow with her metal gauntlet. Hans was not even going to let her retreat. 
“Hrmeow! ” 
“Ah…oh…wh-what should I…?” Rolonia chased the pair as they ran around wildly to the west and to the east. 
Mora couldn’t use the drug that had taken out Fremy and Chamo, either. If she used it here, Rolonia would be affected, too, and the girl needed to stay safe until the fight was over. 
As Mora blocked Hans’s sword, she unleashed a desperate kick. Hans blocked her leg with a blade and leaped way back. Once there was some space them, Rolonia raised her whip and cut between the pair. “Wait, please, Lady Mora, Hans!” 
“Meow. I told ya to stay away. Didn’t ya hear me?” Hans gave her a catlike, shiver-inducing grin. A bloodthirsty aura emanated from his body, as if to say he’d kill her, too. 
“Let’s talk. Let’s wait until Addy’s here, and then we’ll talk.” 
A very Rolonia-like idea , thought Mora. She felt bad for her, but she couldn’t allow Adlet to come. The only way to save Shenira was to kill Hans right there, right then. 
“Yer bein’ pretty quiet,” Hans said to Rolonia. “You ain’t gonna come at me with yer crazy wailin’ like this afterneown?” 
“I-I…” 
Mora knew, though—all that shouting was just a ritual she used to will herself to fight. Rolonia was, by nature, cowardly. It was only through such an extreme habit that she was able to fight at all. 
“But who cares ’bout that. Neow the fun’s gettin’ started. Don’t get in the way.” 
“Fun…?” repeated Rolonia. 
“When I see a powerful warrior, I just get this natural urge to kill ’em. Bein’ all buddy-buddy ain’t bad, either, but killin’ is what I love meowst, after all.” 
Rolonia took a step back. She was afraid of him. 
“Get back, Rolonia. This one is only a petty monster.” Mora raised her fists. Rolonia didn’t say anything. There was not trust in her eyes, but suspicion. “Come, Hans!” 
“Meow-ha-ha-ha! I wouldn’t stop even if ya asked!” Hans jumped high. Mora squatted down, drew in her arms, and protected her face. Keeping her body balled up, she focused on enduring the assault. 
The five fiends were all powerful foes. Adlet killed one, while Goldof killed four, including the stone man. When they were sure that all of their enemies were still, Goldof asked, “What do we do, Adlet?” 
From the eastern side of the mountain, he could just faintly hear the clash of metal. That wasn’t the sound of fighting with fiends. Mora and Hans were fighting each other. It was now clear to him that the Elder had deceived them. Should we go save Hans and Rolonia? Adlet considered it, but he quickly changed his mind. “They’ll be fine. Hans is sure to make it through. He’s not quite as powerful as the strongest man in the world, but he’s still pretty good.” 
“Then…” 
With no time to reply, Adlet set off at a sprint. What he was worried about right then was Fremy and Chamo, of whom they had seen no trace. He glanced at the crest on his hand. Still no petals missing. All six Braves were alive. 
Their destination was the Bud of Eternity. He didn’t know what had happened, but any clues as to whatever it was would probably be there. 
“…The seventh is…Mora. But why make her move now?” 
As Adlet ran, he thought back on Mora’s behavior. There had been some suspicious things about her. But if she really was the enemy, then her actions up until this point made no sense. 
They made their way at a steady clip, and it wasn’t long before they’d reached the Bud of Eternity. When Adlet stepped into the cave, he immediately discovered Fremy and Chamo. “Are you okay?!” he cried, raising Fremy into a sitting position. 
She moaned quietly, her eyes opening a crack. Apparently she had just been put to sleep. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” Once she was standing, she picked up her gun. 
“What happened?” asked Adlet. 
“Mora attacked me. I passed out, and when I woke up, I was here. Other than that, I have no idea—not why she attacked me, or why she didn’t kill me, either.” 
“…Chamo is…all right, too,” remarked Goldof as he checked on the girl. It looked like she’d just been sleeping, too, and she didn’t seem to be injured badly. 
“Goldof, let’s worry about the treatment later!” said Adlet. “We’re going to go capture Mora!” Adlet and Fremy ran off, and the knight followed, Chamo in his arms. 
In a mere three minutes of battle, it had become painfully clear to Mora that she had no chance of winning. Before she had been chosen as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers, she had studied various techniques and worked together with other Saints to develop new weapons. But she had never anticipated an enemy like this, one who moved so fast in such a bizarre way. 
Mora’s body had been sliced to ribbons. Blood gushed from the artery in her upper arm. She’d been kicked in the side, and she sported a broken rib. There were also deep wounds in both her legs, and she wasn’t even sure if she would be able to run. Blood streamed down her forehead, obscuring her vision, and it was hard to see Hans properly. 
“Lady Mora, please, stop this fight! You can’t win,” Rolonia pleaded. 

Hans prevented her from coming near. “Meow-hee. Yer still on her side?” 
“Are you the seventh, Lady Mora? You’re not, right? This is some kind of mistake, right? Please, stop this!” 
“Not gonna happen. I’m killin’ her neow.” 
“Hans…” 
Vision blurred, Mora glared at Rolonia. And then, in a murderous tone, she said, “Get back. Our battle is not yet done.” 
“There ya go,” said Hans. “Let’s do this.” He darted in. 
Mora raised both of her gauntlets before her face, glued both elbows to her sides, and then curled her body with her knees in front of her. In that extreme, balled-up stance, she jumped backward. She held her body like a turtle to shield herself. 
“I’m not lettin’ ya get away!” Hans sliced at the cracks in her defense, unleashing one strike after another. 
Mora weathered his attacks with only the smallest possible movements. She just had to block any fatal wounds, whatever it took. “Ngh! ” As she fought back the pain, she hopped backward some more, frantically maneuvering in order that he not get around behind her. She was already wounded all over. She had no strength left to fight back. 
“Ngh…ah… ” Unable to act, Rolonia stood still, sobbing as she watched them fight. 
Hans was cautious and patient. He didn’t rush; he just waited for Mora to wear herself out. He was fully aware of what she was trying to do. She would wait for him to attack and open himself up, and then she would strike back. That was the only way that Mora would be able to win at this point. 
“Hmeow. Givin’ up yet?” Hans twirled his blades. “Sorry, meow , it’s too late. I’m havin’ a blast, here. This ain’t gonna end till yer dead,” he said, and then recommenced his attack. Mora tucked her body inward again, doing all she could to withstand the assault. 
She was impatient. Adlet and Goldof would be there soon, and surely they’d already figured out that she’d lied to them. They would capture Mora and kill her. But if she attacked now, she would lose. If she made any move at all, it would open her up, and Hans would never miss that. There was nothing she could do but continue guarding. She hadn’t given up. She was going to save Shenira. Mora had lost everything, and all that remained was this one desire. If she were to give up on that, too, then all she had would be gone. 
“Saints sure are tough, meow . If ya don’t hurry up and die soon, I’m gonna lose confidence in myself!” Hans’s strikes became even more powerful. Mora was certain he intended to end this. His sword skimmed past her head, and a sliver of her scalp flew away, hair attached. He cut her legs, and she collapsed to her knees. He circled around behind her. 
Mora’s eyes were closed, but with her power of clairvoyance, she watched everything around her so that she wouldn’t miss the moment Hans came to attack her from behind. “Urmya-meow! ” Hans aimed for her midback, just under her ribs. It was one of the vital spots of the human body—the kidney. When an assassin wanted to make a sure kill from behind, they would always aim for the kidney. 
The instant before the tip of the blade stabbed into her back, Mora twisted just a bit, and the blade missed its mark slightly. Mustering her remaining strength, she tensed her back. “AAAAARGH! ” she roared, and slammed her own body onto Hans’s sword. 
The sword impaled her torso. The cold sensation of the blade slicing her organs rushed through her. Tensing the muscles of her back with all her strength, she held it fast within her body. As she did, she stretched out her legs and pushed back on the blade as hard as she could, with force equal to running full-speed. Any regular human would simply be skewered and die. 
“Meowgh! ” 
Mora could hear a popping sound behind her. Using her powers to see, she could tell that was the sound of Hans’s left wrist dislocating. The sword had plunged to its hilt within her. It slipped from Hans’s grasp, and as it did, Mora whipped around to kick him in the face. He threw his upper body backward, and her kick just barely skimmed his forehead. Instantly, he stumbled. Just by grazing him, Mora’s full-power kick had thrown him off balance. Hans rolled away and ran, and she immediately tossed off her iron gauntlets, going after him. She grabbed the hem of his clothes with her fingers and yanked him toward her as hard as she could. 
“Lady Mora!” Rolonia cried. 
Mora hit Hans in the chest with an open palm and heard his ribs crack. She flung his body to the ground hard enough for it to bounce. She had struck the left side of his chest, which would make a person’s heart stop for a moment and knock them out. No amount of training could enable a human to prevent that. 
Mora drew the sword out of her torso and leaned over Hans. Then she pressed the blade to his carotid artery and thrust. 
“Hans! Rolonia! Where are you?!” Adlet ran through the night across the mountain. Fremy, Goldof, and the now-conscious Chamo followed behind him. The earlier sound of metal clashing against itself was now gone. Hans had been fighting until a moment ago. Then it was over. 
They ran over the mountain, their light gems held high as they searched for Hans. Then Fremy yelled, “Adlet! Look at the back of your hand!” 
“!” That was when Adlet noticed the Crest of the Six Flowers that marked his hand—one of the petals was gone. His legs went weak with fear. One of the Braves of the Six Flowers had lost their life. Someone had died—Hans, Rolonia, or Mora. “Hans! Rolonia! Are you dead?!” he yelled, even louder. 
Her victory had been by a narrow margin. If Mora had failed to evade his strike at the vital point on her back, she would have been the one to fall. If they had fought ten fights, Hans would have probably won nine of them. He was that much more powerful than her. 
The battle was over. Blood spurted from Hans’s neck. Then its flow quickly reduced until it ceased completely. Mora put her hand on his chest. She felt no heartbeat. 
“Ahh…ahhhh …” Rolonia was moaning. 
Mora stood. Her pierced organs screamed as blood dripped from her lips. 
Rolonia approached Hans. Hands shaking, she touched his neck. 
“Listen, Rolonia. Do just as I taught you,” Mora said, staggering away from the two of them. She meant to leave them, but her feet got tangled up and she fell. She could hear Adlet’s yells coming close. “Listen to me, Rolonia! Do just as I’ve taught you!” she repeated, rising to her feet again. 
Then Adlet appeared, having climbed up the cliff. Mora, her back turned to him, said quietly, “You’re too late, Adlet.” Now it was all over. Mora’s whole fight was over. The parasite should now be gone from Shenira’s chest. Tgurneu would not break its promise, because there was no reason for it to. 
Mora told them all that she had killed Hans. She also told them that she was the seventh. As she spoke, she kept her eyes steady on Rolonia as the girl treated Hans. Rolonia was so focused on healing him, it was as if she didn’t even see what was going on around her. 
“What’s the meaning of this, Rolonia?” Adlet demanded. “Hans is dead, and you’re not even scratched.” 
“You were with him. What were you doing?” Fremy demanded immediately after. 
Rolonia didn’t reply to either of them. 
Good , thought Mora. She and Torleau, Saint of Medicine, had told Rolonia over and over to concentrate only on her work when using healing techniques. 
Chamo approached Mora where she knelt and hit her with her tiny fists, yelling and punching, faint tears welling in her eyes. Mora was surprised that Chamo would get so upset over Hans. She hadn’t realized the young Saint had been fond of him. 
They’ll kill me. Everything in front of her seemed very far away. Was this what it felt like to be on death’s door? “This was not my desire. I did not wish to kill Hans. Not him, not anyone,” she said. She meant it to be her final testament. 
“What did you say?” 
“There was nothing for me to do but kill him. Every avenue aside from his murder was closed to me.” A single tear fell from her eye. “I wanted to protect the world. I wanted to defeat the fiends together with you, to stop the revival of the Evil God.” 
“Who could believe that?” snapped Chamo. 
“Up until just yesterday—no, up until one hour ago—I had every intention of doing just that,” Mora said, and instantly, Chamo grabbed her by the collar. 
“Don’t you lie!” she shouted, her eyes burning. 
But Mora wasn’t looking at her. She was focused only on Rolonia treating Hans. “You cannot just circulate his blood, Rolonia. It will quickly become impure. Return the blood that’s drained from him.” 
“What’re you talking about? Look at me, Auntie!” Chamo hit Mora’s face, but the woman’s eyes did not leave Rolonia. 
“What are you doing, Rolonia? There isn’t enough blood. Do you not understand? I thought I taught you this!” 
The timid Saint finally reacted. “Y-yes, ma’am. The blood…Hans’s blood…” Rolonia put one hand on the ground, and then focused her nerves. 
“It’s difficult to use two techniques simultaneously. But you, Rolonia—you should be capable of it now!” 
With her hand on the blood-soaked earth, the healer took a few deep breaths. 
“What’re you doing, Rolonia? Look at me. I’ve got questions for you, too,” demanded Chamo. 
Fremy, watching beside her, spoke as well. “It’s no use. His heart has stopped, and he’s lost most of his blood.” 
“…I can’t…do the wrist…” Rolonia muttered. As she focused all her concern on the techniques, the mumbled words sounded like delirious babbling. 
“His wrist?” said Fremy. “What are you talking about?” 
“His wrist is dislocated…and his ribs are broken…I can’t heal that.” 
“What?” 
Eyes still on the ground, Rolonia cried, “But the rest, I can heal!” 
“Heal him? Don’t be ridiculous!” 
“I can! I know I can! I mean, it’s just that his heart has stopped and he’s bled too much!” As the girl spoke, her hands shone, sucking up the blood that had seeped into the earth. It pooled into a red sphere that enveloped Rolonia’s hand. 
“Don’t return it like that!” Mora ordered. “Remove all the foreign matter!” 
“Yes, ma’am!” The sphere undulated and spat out a dirty mixture of wet sand and mud. “Hans! Please, come back to us!” Rolonia cried. As the blood disappeared back into the wound at Hans’s neck, his body, which had been deathly pale, began to be tinged with color. All the while, Rolonia was manipulating the small amount of blood that remained inside Hans’s body. She circulated it between his lungs and brain while also managing the work of the cells themselves so that even with his heart stopped, his brain would not die. 
Rolonia had assisted Torleau, Saint of Medicine with her surgeries many times. Through much practice, she had learned and perfected the technique of returning drained blood to the body. Mora had helped Rolonia with this by submitting herself as a subject for experiment. 
“Next…if his heart can start again…” As Rolonia pressed her left hand on his wounded neck, she set her right hand on his heart. She was trying to move his stopped heart by controlling his blood. To train this skill, Mora had requested the help of an elderly person with only a few days left to live, working on them in the moments before death. 
“It can’t be… He’s coming back?” Fremy gasped. 
Once Hans’s heart had stopped, the Spirit of Words would have ordered Tgurneu to make the parasite within Shenira die—and they could also tell by how the petal on the Crest had disappeared. The spirits had determined that Hans was dead, and Tgurneu had probably already released his hostage, as promised. 
Mora had indeed promised that she would kill a Brave of the Six Flowers—but not that she wouldn’t bring the Brave back to life. 
The very moment Mora had met Rolonia, she’d thought this girl, with her rare talent, would perhaps be capable of even techniques to revive the dead. The most difficult part of this plan had been to kill Hans in such a way that he could still be revived afterward. Rolonia’s power was only to control blood. If his neck or any bones in his head had been broken, or if his organs had been badly damaged, it wouldn’t have been possible to revive him. 
“Is there any way I can help, Rolonia?” Adlet understood now what she was doing. He sat down next to Hans. 
“His breathing… I have to get him breathing again…” 
“Leave it to me. Artificial respiration, right? I know some medical stuff.” Sitting down beside Hans, Adlet blew air into his mouth. Rolonia maintained regular circulation as she stopped the gash in his neck from bleeding. 
“No way,” said Chamo. “He’s coming back to life?” It was no wonder she couldn’t believe it. Rolonia had to be the first Saint in history who had successfully brought the dead back to life. Even Torleau wasn’t capable of this. 
“Guhhaaaa! ” Hans gasped. Blood spewed from his mouth. He clutched his chest and coughed over and over. Adlet wiped the blood from around his lips while Rolonia rubbed his back. When the coughing stopped, Hans put his hands over his neck and wailed. “Meeeow! Meeeeeooooow! Hrmeoooow! ” He was panicking. No surprise there—he had been dead until just a moment ago. 
“Adlet, show me your crest,” said Mora. 
He first checked it himself, then showed it to Mora. There were very clearly six petals on the flower. 
So it was a success. Mora was relieved. She had walked a long tightrope of a battle. She couldn’t have killed Fremy or Chamo. Fremy was half fiend, so she would differ biologically from a normal human. A resurrection almost certainly would not work on her. Dying and then coming back would also place great strain on the body, and Chamo’s small frame probably wouldn’t have been able to withstand it. Mora had been forced to kill Adlet, Hans, or Goldof. 
“You planned to do this all along, didn’t you?” Adlet said. “You needed to kill Hans for some reason, but at the same time, you couldn’t have him die. Isn’t that right?” 
She nodded. 
“What on earth happened to you?” he asked. 
Mora informed them it would be a long story, so the whole group returned to the Bud of Eternity. Hans leaned on Adlet’s shoulder, while Goldof kept Mora restrained. 
“This doesn’t make sense,” Chamo muttered as she trailed behind the group. Adlet felt the same way. 
Once they were at the Bud of Eternity, they tended to Hans first. Adlet snapped his dislocated wrist back in and set his broken ribs, and Rolonia encouraged his circulation to prevent any aftereffects. At the boy’s instruction, Fremy treated Mora, though she seemed to have mixed feelings as she stitched her wounds and daubed medicine on her. 
“Are you okay, Hans?” Adlet asked. 
His expression bitter, Hans replied, “My whole body feels numb, and I can’t meowve right.” 
Once Mora’s wounds had been treated, she knelt on the ground, hands together behind her back. 
Adlet said, “So, talk.” 
“Of course. There’s no need to hide a thing now.” Surrounded by the whole group, Mora dispassionately told them the truth—about her secret contract with Tgurneu, the reason she had trained Rolonia, and how it had come to be that she had to kill one of the Braves of the Six Flowers within the next two days—and finally, that she was the seventh. 
Adlet quietly listened to Mora’s story, and then he pulled from a pouch at his waist the thing that he had discovered at the hill, looking at it intently. I see…so that was it , he said to himself silently. 
“…and that’s all I know. I am prepared. Be done with it quickly.” And with that, Mora concluded her long confession. For a while, nobody said anything. 
Goldof was the first one to speak. “You…don’t know anything about…the princess?” 
Mora shook her head. “Tgurneu told me nothing of Nashetania. For my part, I had other concerns.” 
“I see. So Her Highness…” Goldof started to say something and then stopped. Then he fell silent again. 
“I dunno about this now. I was gonna kill you, but now I kinda feel sorry for you,” said Chamo. 
“Are you going to kill Lady Mora?” Rolonia asked. “But she didn’t have a choice. Her daughter was taken hostage, and Hans did get properly revived.” 
“Meow …I’ve kinda got mixed feelin’s about this.” Hans, unusually for him, seemed angry. 
“You made your own decision to fight alone, and you lost. You reap what you sow,” Fremy said coldly. 
Then Mora said, “Rolonia. ’Twould be naive not to kill me.” 
“Lady Mora…” 
“There was no guarantee that he would return after his death. And even if the revival was a success, he could have been severely disabled. I killed Hans, even knowing that.” 
Rolonia was silent. 
“No matter the result, I betrayed you. I must take responsibility. Moreover…I have no wish to live on so shamelessly as the traitor to the world.” 
“Well, I guess we hafta, then. Though it’s too bad.” Chamo scratched her head. 
“We can’t trust everything Mora’s said,” said Fremy. “We really should kill her.” 
“But…,” Rolonia protested. 
As the discussion persisted, Adlet opened his mouth. “Hmm… I wonder where I should start?” 
“What’s wrong? Actually, you’ve hardly done anything tonight, have you?” Chamo scoffed. 
Adlet ignored her. “I guess I’ll just start by getting to the point. Guys, calm down and listen.” 
“…?” The present crowd seemed puzzled. 
Quietly, but also with conviction, Adlet said, “Mora is not the seventh.” 
As he’d expected, all six of them gaped in speechless astonishment. 
The first to counter him was Mora. “What are you talking about, Adlet? The evidence that I’m the seventh is all there. Tgurneu threatened me into killing one of your allies.” 
“Weren’t you listening?” said Fremy. “Mora admitted that she’s the seventh.” 
“Addy… I’m sorry, but that’s just ridiculous.” Even Rolonia agreed. The others didn’t believe him at all. 
Explaining this is gonna be rough , he thought. “First of all, Mora hasn’t betrayed us, has she? She did her utmost to make sure none of us would have to die. She did everything she could to try to kill Tgurneu. She wants to defeat the Evil God and save the world. There’s no way she could be a traitor.” 
“True,” said Fremy. “She’s not a traitor—but she is the seventh.” 
“You have no proof,” Adlet insisted. Fremy’s eyes widened. “How was the seventh crest created? How was the seventh chosen? We don’t have any of the facts. Calm down and think about it. In the end, the only evidence we have that Mora is the seventh is that Tgurneu said so. That’s all.” 
“But that evidence is everything,” said Mora. “Tgurneu will never lie to me.” 
Adlet said, “The very idea that Tgurneu won’t lie to you is the trap.” 
“What do you mean?” asked Mora. 
“Tgurneu’s goal was clearly to make you kill a Brave. It was positive you’d never abandon your daughter. But beneath that, it laid another trap—one to make you believe that you were the seventh.” 
What he was saying made Mora hold her breath. 
“All of us already considered the idea of falsely accusing a real Brave to make everyone else think they’re the seventh. But what we didn’t even think to consider was that you could trick a real Brave into thinking that they themselves had the fake Crest. Nobody would doubt someone calling themselves the seventh, right? Tgurneu’s a real piece of work. I almost wanna compliment that fiend for it. Nice job.” Adlet smiled. “Mora, from what you’ve said, though Tgurneu swore to the Saint of Words, it’s not like it can’t lie at all anymore, right? And all the Saint of Words can do is make any liar pay the predetermined price.” 
Mora nodded. 
“It’s so simple, it’s ridiculous. Three years ago, Tgurneu swore to the Saint of Words that it wouldn’t lie. On the surface, that was to get you to be willing to sit down and negotiate. But the other goal was to make you think it couldn’t lie.” 
“…” 
“You believed that Tgurneu wouldn’t lie under any circumstances. And then it told you, falsely, that you’re the seventh. So you mistakenly believed it—just like Tgurneu wanted. Simple, huh?” 
“Wait. Do you think that I didn’t doubt Tgurneu? I also considered that Tgurneu could be lying. But the power of the Saint of Words is absolute. None can escape from it. Even the Saint of Words herself cannot nullify the contract.” 
“Are you saying that even the power of the Saint of Words doesn’t work on Tgurneu?” said Fremy. “That’s impossible. If that were true, it would mean that Tgurneu really is immortal.” 
“There’s no such thing as immortality,” countered Adlet, “and if there is, then it’s only the Evil God. I don’t know much about the Saint’s power, but it’s probably impossible to cancel out the Saint of Words.” 
“So what is it, then? You can’t mean to say that Tgurneu died in order to tell that lie?” 
“…” Adlet considered a bit, thinking about how he should explain things. “You said that after Tgurneu declared that Mora was the seventh, a jellyfish-fiend sucked it up. That wasn’t in order to escape—that was in order to hide that Tgurneu had died. It died in exchange for that lie, just as it had promised the Saint of Words.” 
“That’s impossible,” said Mora. “Tgurneu is one of the commanders of the fiends. If it died, then all its minions would lose their chain of command and turn into a disorderly mob. Such a creature wouldn’t die for the sake of a single lie.” 
“Tgurneu isn’t dead,” agreed Fremy. “Its death would cause chaos among its subordinates. I know it is alive.” 
“Calm down. I’ll explain in full,” said Adlet, and then he paused. He organized everything in his head, wondering where to start. “The three-winged lizard-fiend we fought—the fiend that we recognized to be Tgurneu—was not Tgurneu.” 
“What do you mean?” asked Fremy. 
“When we were on that hill, I figured out what Tgurneu really is. Let me explain. We—me, you, and Rolonia—spent the whole day talking about Tgurneu’s mystery.” 
“We did.” 
“We used all the brains and powers we had at our disposal to try to figure out why the Saint’s Spike didn’t work. The conclusion we reached was that Tgurneu couldn’t have blocked the Saint’s poison with its own power.” Adlet outlined Rolonia’s analysis and how Tgurneu lacked anything to make it immune. “So that means that another fiend, or a Saint, was helping Tgurneu. But then, what kind of power could nullify the Saint’s poison? Some detoxification power? The power to die in his place? Even though I’ve inherited all of Atreau Spiker’s knowledge, and Fremy was one of the fiends herself, no matter how much we racked our brains, we couldn’t come up with any fiends that had powers like that.” 
“So then…?” 
“Then a Saint? Couldn’t be that, either. We went to the hill where Tgurneu first attacked us and searched underground, but there was no trace of any humans. No Saint helped. At this point, I was at the end of my rope. For a minute, I was about to give up.” 
“We don’t need to hear ya gibber on about meow hard it was. Just get to the point,” said Hans. 
“It was what Goldof did, just by chance, that gave me the big hint.” Adlet told them about how Goldof had tortured the fiend in the tunnel. “There was one thing it said that bothered me: If I had Commander Tgurneu’s power, you trash would be nothing. ” 
“What’s so odd about that?” asked Fremy. 
“Don’t you think that’s a weird way to put it? Shouldn’t it be, ‘If Commander Tgurneu were here’? Why did that fiend choose to say, ‘If I had’? What it said led me to a hypothesis—that Tgurneu has the ability to give other fiends power.” 
“I’ve never heard of an ability like that,” Fremy replied. 
“We know of one other fiend that had the ability to give power to other fiends—the strongest fiend that ever lived, the one that was there at the Battle of the Six Flowers seven hundred years ago: Archfiend Zophrair. You’ve all heard of it, at least.” All of them, excepting Fremy, nodded. “Zophrair was called a controller-type fiend. Its ability was to amplify the powers of other fiends by giving them a part of its flesh. By doing that, it could take complete control of the fiend and make its body do whatever Zophrair wanted.” 
“Yes, I do seem to remember reading something like that, but…,” said Mora. 
“That’s when I realized the controller-type power could negate the Saints’ blood.” 
“Wh-what do you mean?” asked Rolonia. 
“Recall how the Saint’s poison affects a fiend’s body. First, it becomes deranged and overcome with pain. A fiend that’s been affected will writhe in agony, unable to think straight. Next, it’ll lose its sense of balance. Then it won’t be able to move. Finally, it begins to experience visual and auditory hallucinations, and then memory loss, and within five to ten days, it’s dead. In other words, the effects are like nerve toxin on a human. The poison destroys the brain and the motor center.” 
Fremy lifted her head as if she’d just realized something. 
Adlet continued. “But what if the poisoned fiend was under a controller-type fiend? What if it wasn’t moving under its own will, but was in fact a puppet? On the surface, it’d look like the Saint’s poison hadn’t worked, right?” 
“You can’t mean…” Fremy trailed off. 
“Tgurneu—or the three-winged fiend we thought was Tgurneu—was being used by a controller-type fiend. Tgurneu is the one manipulating the body of the three-winged fiend.” 
“This so sudden, it’s hard to believe, though, meow .” Hans tilted his head. 
“Wait,” said Fremy. “Do you even have any proof of that? If that three-winged fiend isn’t actually Tgurneu, then where was the real one? I’ve believed that was Tgurneu all this time. And when I think back, I just can’t believe that there was another fiend behind that one.” 
“Of course you wouldn’t have realized,” said Adlet. “Tgurneu was always planning to get rid of you, so it made sure you wouldn’t know what it really was.” 
“What is it, then? What is the real Tgurneu?” she pressed. 
Adlet scanned the faces around him. It seemed the three who’d gone to the hill with him—Hans, Rolonia and Goldof—already understood. “Look at this.” He pulled a tiny, sand-covered object from a pouch at his waist. This was what the four of them had been searching for on the hill where they’d been attacked, the thing Goldof had stumbled upon. 
“What’s that piece of trash?” asked Fremy. 
“Meow , so that’s what it was. I can’t believe it. When ya told us to look fer this thing, I thought you’d gone crazy,” said Hans. 
“This is a piece of the fig that Tgurneu was eating.” Adlet recalled when they had been fighting Tgurneu, and suddenly, the fiend had pulled out this fig and eaten it. At the time, he had seen a tiny piece fall from the corner of its mouth. “Fremy, do you remember when we explained what the controller does to take over other fiends?” 
“I do.” 
“This kind of fiend exercises its power by giving a part of its flesh to another. Basically, it makes the other eat part of its body.” 
“No…” 
“This isn’t just a fig. It’s a fiend,” said Adlet, and from a pouch at his waist, he pulled out the solution that reacted to fiend excretions. When he sprayed the fragment, it turned orange. “The fig that three-winged fiend had—that was the real Tgurneu.” 
“This is unbelievable,” said Mora. 
“Do you remember, Mora,” said Adlet, “when you were negotiating with Tgurneu, was it eating a fig like this?” 
“I’m sorry. I truly cannot recall. I get the feeling it was, though.” 
“Fremy,” Adlet said, addressing her next, “the times you spoke with Tgurneu, did it ever eat figs like this?” 
“I remember quite clearly that it often ate them, but I’d never taken notice of it.” 
Satisfied by her response, he nodded. “Tgurneu made sure to hide its true nature from you. It pretended to just naturally have a big appetite in order to avoid drawing attention to all those figs. And Tgurneu didn’t tell you about the Archfiend Zophrair so that you wouldn’t know that such an ability existed.” 
“…That would explain it, but…” Fremy trailed off. 
“Those of you who fought Tgurneu with me must remember,” said Adlet. “It randomly pulled a fig out of the mouth on its chest and ate it, right? Then after that, it suddenly became more powerful. That wasn’t because it stopped going easy on us. That was because of the power of the controller-type to strengthen other fiends.” He examined the sand-covered piece of fig in his hand. “I was surprised, too. I thought all fiends were big—at least as big as humans—and scary. But fundamentally speaking, they can take any shape. It shouldn’t be surprising at all that there’s such a thing as a fig-fiend.” 
“Is that really the answer, then?” asked Fremy. 
“I can’t guarantee for sure that I’m right. And I can’t deny the possibility that there’s some fiend out there we don’t know about with powers we’ve never heard of. But based off all the clues we’ve gathered so far, this conclusion seems to fit.” Adlet turned his attention to Mora. “Now that I’ve explained all this, you get just how Tgurneu tricked you, I hope?” 
“I do.” Three years ago, Tgurneu had sworn to Mora, If I lie, then may this core be shattered. But that core had not been Tgurneu’s—it had been the core of the three-winged fiend. 
“The lizard was just a tool being controlled by the real Tgurneu, who saw it as a disposable pawn. From the moment it swore that oath to the Saint of Words, it planned to break its promise.” 
Mora was struck dumb. Apparently she could hardly keep up with the swift turn of events. 
Adlet said to the group, “Do I have to explain the rest of why Mora is not the seventh? Tgurneu lied to Mora to make her believe she’s the seventh. He tried to trick her. So there’s no way she could be the seventh.” 
“Okay, okay, we get it, you don’t have to spell out every little thing,” Chamo pouted. 
“I’m…not the seventh?” Mora was still on her knees, dazed. “I’m…I…am a real Brave of the Six Flowers? It…wasn’t a lie? I cannot believe it.” 
“Whether you believe it or not, I’m sure you are,” said Adlet, and he extended a hand to her. “Come on, pull yourself together. It’s not just your daughter you have to save—you’ve gotta save the world.” 
Mora took his hand. 
It had been half coincidence that had enabled Adlet to figure out Tgurneu’s trap. If he had failed to notice that Tgurneu’s body concealed a secret, or had given up trying to solve the mystery, then he probably wouldn’t have figured out the truth. He wouldn’t have realized that Mora was a real Brave, and he probably would have let her die. But even if it was only by sheer coincidence, a win was a win. 
Meanwhile, a crowd was gathering in the infirmary of All Heavens Temple. It included Mora’s husband, Ganna Chester; Mora’s elderly mother and father; Willone, Saint of Salt; Marmanna, Saint of Words; Liennril, Saint of Fire; administrators who worked at All Heavens Temple; acolytes who had rushed there from the Temple of Mountains; and Mora’s personal maids. The too-small waiting room of the infirmary couldn’t contain them, and they filled the hallway as well. 
“Not yet? Damn it!” Willone, Saint of Salt, muttered in irritation. 
“Mora…I believe in you.” In one corner of the room, Ganna was looking down, arms folded. 
About thirty minutes earlier, Shenira had complained of slight pain in her chest. When her father had taken a look, he found that the centipede-like mark had disappeared from her skin. Had the parasite died, or was this a portent of strange things to come? Since Ganna didn’t know, he had immediately summoned Torleau. Willone and the people of All Heavens Temple had all rushed over at once. 
Torleau emerged from the examination room. All eyes gathered on her. She strode straight to Ganna—then took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “The parasite is gone. Shenira is saved.” 
“You did it, boss!” Willone cried, and she raised a fist high. She ran up to Torleau and squeezed her tightly. 
The array of people crowded around them cheered, all shaking hands and embracing one another. Some of them even hopped onto the tables, whipped off their jackets, and whirled them around. 
“How do you like that, you stinking fiend?! This is what our boss is made of!” Willone pulled away from Torleau to hug anyone and everyone available, her inhuman strength raising a few yelps here and there. 
“Are things really okay? She couldn’t have killed one of the Braves, I’m sure,” Marmanna said in an indifferent tone. 
“No way!” Willone retorted. “The boss obviously slaughtered that big stupid bastard!” 
Torleau’s assistant emerged from the examination room, bringing out Shenira. The tiny girl was frightened of the uproar going on in the waiting room, but Ganna went to her and scooped her into his arms, and then, as if everything he had been holding back now overflowed, he wept. 
“All right, time for some booze! If this isn’t a drink-worthy night, what is?! I’ll break out my secret stash!” Willone wrapped an arm around Marmanna’s shoulders. 
“You’re jumping the gun,” replied the Saint of Words. “It’s not like they’ve defeated the Evil God yet.” 
“We’re just having an advance celebration, come on! Fortune be to the Braves of the Six Flowers! Fortune in battle to all of them! Boss, Rolonia, Chamo, Princess, Goldof, and…um…what was his name? Oh yeah, the Cowardly Warrior Adlet!” 
There was no way for any of them to know that Shenira had been saved not because Tgurneu had been killed. It was because Tgurneu had promised to free her if it lied. 
They didn’t know about the battle raging in the Howling Vilelands, either. Hans had only told a limited few that he had been chosen as a Brave of the Six Flowers, and Fremy was a name totally unknown to all of them. 
The eastern sky slowly became tinged with red. It was their first morning in the Howling Vilelands. Adlet, on watch, lost himself for a moment in the glow of the sunrise. They had decided to stay at the Bud of Eternity until Hans and Mora had healed. The two would probably be able to move around again by evening. It was a good thing they had two Saints with healing abilities in their party—they wouldn’t have to be concerned over most injuries. 
The Bud of Eternity and the mountain around it were quiet. There was no sight of any fiends or of Tgurneu. Aside from the lookout, all of them were resting in their preferred ways. 
“Listen, Adlet…,” began Mora. “Should I really be continuing this journey with you?” 
He didn’t reply. 
Mora brooded. She wasn’t particularly glad to have survived, and now her happiness at having saved her daughter’s life was forgotten. The enemy had tricked her into killing one of their allies, with full knowledge of the possibility that he could not be saved afterward. 
“Auntie, I thought for sure that this time, I couldn’t forgive you.” The one who replied instead was Chamo. “Just how many times do you gotta get tricked? Are you serious about this? Do you like getting tricked?” 
She’s really letting Mora have it , the boy mused. 
Mora looked at the ground, downcast. 
“Hans, I want to hear what you think,” said Adlet. He was the one they should be prioritizing, given he was the greatest victim. 
“Well…I get that she’s still got to come with us…but I ain’t all that happy about it.” 
No surprise there , thought Adlet. 
“Once this battle is over,” said Mora, “kill me. You can be certain I’ll pay for what I’ve done.” 
“Neow what good’d that do me?” Hans put a hand to his mouth and gave her a nasty smile. “What else could I want? Cash. All Heavens Temple is rich, right? I’ll clean yer treasure house out all the way to the back. Meow-hee-hee-hee-hee! ” 
“And that’s all you want?” Adlet asked him, without thinking. 
“Meowney is important. I was born to have a fun, exciting life. None of that happens if you ain’t got the coin.” 
Mora nodded. Well, if that’s enough for him. 
Then the look on Hans’s face suddenly turned serious, and he said, “Mora, I ain’t gonna let ya blow this again. You gotta take out the Evil God—even if it means yer life. You better understand that’s the only reason yer head’s still on yer shoulders.” 
“Understood,” said Mora. “We will win. I’ll protect the world, even if it means my life.” 
Hans seemed to be done saying what it was he wanted to say. 
Adlet looked at Rolonia. In a way, she had also been a victim. 
“Lady Mora…” She hesitated. Rolonia had surely trusted Mora. Adlet couldn’t imagine how she must have felt upon finding out the real reason that Mora had raised her—purely for the sake of her plot to kill one of the Six Braves. “I don’t feel like I can forgive you, but I also feel like you had no choice for Shenira’s sake…I don’t know what do to.” 
Mora didn’t respond. She just kept her head lowered. 
“Just one thing…,” Rolonia said finally. “Thank you very much for training me.” 
“I’m sorry, Rolonia. And thank you. Truly, thank you.” Their eyes never met. They still hadn’t sorted out their feelings. 
“This is a sudden change of topic, but ya don’t mind, do ya, meow ?” 
“What is it, Hans?” asked Adlet. 
Completely ignoring the heavy atmosphere, the assassin brightly asked, “When I died, what happened to the crests?” 
“Oh!” The youngest piped up. “Chamo saw it. A petal disappeared from Adlet’s crest.” 
“Ain’t that proof that I’m the real deal?” said Hans. “I mean, if a Brave of the Six Flowers dies, then one of the petals disappears, right?” 
“S’pose so. So can we say that you’re the real thing, then, catboy?” Chamo tilted her head. 
“That doesn’t prove anything,” said Fremy. “A petal might disappear when the seventh dies, just as it does with a real Brave. We don’t know anything about the extra crest.” 
“Meow… ” 
“If one of us dies and no petals disappear,” Fremy continued, “then we can be sure that person was the seventh. But a petal disappearing when someone dies doesn’t prove that person is the real thing. Sorry, but we can’t state with certainty that you’re a real Brave.” 
“Meow. This is difficult. It’s makin’ my head all itchy.” 
“The seventh, huh?” Adlet muttered. He gave his allies, who were chatting to one another, a hard look. In his head, a doubt was forming. 
Tgurneu had made Mora, a real Brave, believe that she was the seventh. Perhaps the opposite was also possible—to make the seventh believe that they were a Brave. That could be a part of Tgurneu’s machinations. The impostor had done nothing in either the battle of the Phantasmal Barrier or their battle in the Ravine of Spitten Blood despite numerous chances to kill the Braves of the Six Flowers. Maybe they didn’t even know that they were the impostor. 
So then, what on earth was the seventh? The battle was over, but they had still found no clues as to the greatest enigma: the question of the false Brave’s identity. The situation had grown even more chaotic while the mystery had deepened further. 
In the west, beyond the mountain, there was an expanse of deep forest. This was the land where the Saint of the Single Flower had once lost a finger on her left hand, giving this area the name the Cut-Finger Forest. There were about thirty fiends gathered there, and in the center of the group a fiend read a book. It had a massive yeti body and a crow’s neck. 
“This body is hard to move around. I’ll search for something better soon,” it muttered. On the creature’s lap, there was a fig. “Hey. Morning,” the yeti called to the sky. 
A bird-shaped fiend flew down from the sky, landed on the yeti’s shoulder, and told it something. The yeti closed its book and seemed to think for a while. “Your report is difficult to believe. All seven of them are still alive?” it said, picking up the fig in its lap and biting into it. “So did Mora fail? She didn’t kill anyone?” 
“No, Commànder Tgurneu. Mora killed Hans. But then afterwàrd, Rolonia brought him back to life.” 
“She got me!” The yeti-fiend—Tgurneu’s new body—smacked its knee. “I see. So this was the reason she took in Rolonia. To kill him once and then revive him…what an idea. At the very last moment, Mora got me.” Tgurneu stood and began to walk around. 
“It seems they’ve also realizèd that Mora is not the seventh.” 
“I wonder who figured that out. Fremy? No…probably Adlet.” The fiend Tgurneu looked deep into the forest. A few of its subordinates were burying something deep in the ground—the body of the three-winged fiend that Adlet’s party had fought. “Total failure,” it said. “Such utter defeat in both stages of my scheme could be called nothing else. I shall graciously praise their efforts.” The fiend didn’t seem anxious in the least, and neither was it angry nor behaving with any sense of urgency, now that its plan had been foiled. On the contrary, it seemed as if it was pleased at the victory of the Braves. “Oh, well. Let’s begin the next game. It’s best to forget what’s done.” 
“Your orders, Commànder Tgurneu?” asked the bird-fiend. 
Smiling, Tgurneu said, “Tell the seventh not to do anything at the moment. The identity of our impostor should remain concealed.” The bird-fiend spread its wings and disappeared into the east. As the devious commander watched the bird go, it muttered, “Now then, how will I play with them next? The Braves of the Six Flowers will entertain me yet.”