Chapter 3
Crashing the Ceremony!
Duke Perv stands on the second floor and gazes down at the ceremonial hall.
“Our defensive perimeter is airtight, I assume?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, make sure it stays that way. The Shadow Garden could be planning something.”
The Cult agent disguised as a guard bows to Perv, then leaves.
Word of the Shadow Garden’s raid on Fort First has reached Perv’s ears.
The Cult took every precaution so as not to be detected, and yet they’d been a hairbreadth away from having the Ring of Succession stolen away from them anyway.
Once again, the Shadow Garden is being a thorn in Perv’s side.
Shadow was the one who ruined his scheme back at the Bushin Festival, too, and that’s forced Perv’s plan to take quite a detour. The Cult is finally starting to get serious about wanting to crush the Shadow Garden, but Perv has seen Shadow’s prowess firsthand, and he fears that the Cult is still underestimating the threat he poses.
As further proof of that, the Cult has yet to succeed in pinning down the Shadow Garden’s base of operations.
In fact, their intel on the Shadow Garden is lacking on all fronts. In Perv’s eyes, that’s gross negligence on their part.
Even now, the Cult still believes its grip on the world is as firm as ever.
“Still, I have the Ring of Succession. Once the right to succeed the throne is mine, my plan will be complete. And as for the Shadow Garden, we can drag the intel we need out of Rose Oriana.”
He’s run into all sorts of unexpected problems recently.
Using Queen Reina to turn King Oriana into a puppet was going splendidly, but somehow, the king realized the danger he was in and tampered with the Ring of Succession to transfer control of it over to his daughter, Rose. Now, the only way for Perv to gain dominion over the Ring is to marry the girl.
“All’s well that ends well, though. Once this is over, I’ll finally be able to join the Rounds…”
Perv has it on good authority that the twelfth seat will be his if everything goes smoothly in Oriana. He has the backing of Sir Mordred, the ninth member of the Rounds, to thank for that.
In exchange, Sir Mordred will expect his support in the Cult’s upcoming internal power struggle.
Perv’s track record will be the weakest in the Rounds, so he’ll have to play along for the time being. Once he becomes more powerful, though, he should have little trouble currying favor with whatever faction is currently in control.
That Cult is no monolith, and that fact gives rise to all sorts of opportunities for advancement.
“As long as I have the Ring, I’ll be fine…”
He retrieves a small box from his pocket. He’s been careful not to let it leave his person for even a moment because of the ring inside.
It’s no mere wedding ring, of course. It’s the Ring of Succession.
Confident of his victory, he smiles as he opens the box.
“…Huh?”
His smile vanishes in the blink of an eye.
The box is empty.
The ring is nowhere to be seen.
“Wait, what? No, no, no.”
He checks under the lid, then his pockets, then the floor. The color drains from his face.
“It’s gone…”
The cold, hard truth hits him.
“I lost it…”
It was in there when he got the box. He made sure to check that.
Since then, the box has never left his person. There was never an opportunity for it to go missing.
“H-how, then…?”
Queen Reina was the only one who knew where it was, but Perv has a hard time imagining that she stole it. She doesn’t have a motive.
In that case, is this the Shadow Garden’s work?
Even if he assumes a man with Shadow’s talents could have picked his pocket, it doesn’t make sense. If he had an opportunity like that, he would’ve just killed Perv.
In that case, it must have been an inside job—the work of a faction opposing Sir Mordred.
Stealing the ring and leaving the box had set a cruel trap for him.
Their wicked motives are as plain as day. They want to ruin Perv.
“I got played!”
The power struggle must already be underway.
At this rate, there’s no way he’ll be promoted to the Rounds. Instead, Sir Mordred is going to kill him.
“Shit…”
A veritable waterfall of sweat begins cascading down his forehead.
He needs to search for the ring, but he can’t use any Cult personnel to do it. Their loyalties lie with Sir Mordred, and if Sir Mordred finds out what happened, Perv is done for.
If his blunder gets exposed, he’ll definitely, positively, certainly get killed.
“I-I’ll have to look for it on my own…”
Fortunately, he still has some time left before he actually needs the ring.
If he comes up with some bullshit excuse, he can probably buy himself three days before the handoff. That’s what he’ll do.
Then, right as Perv manages to start pulling himself together—
“Perv.”
—Sir Mordred’s voice echoes directly in his head.
“Ahhh!”
He’s here.
Sir Mordred has come, and he’s here.
“Rejoice. I’ve pulled all the necessary strings. Once this is over, the twelfth seat is yours.”
“I-it’s an honor…”
“I’m expecting great things from you. Don’t let me down.”
“I—I would never dream of it…”
Perv heads to the ceremony in a daze. His mind is completely blank.
Rose ascends the exterior staircase leading up to the royal castle.
She looks utterly gorgeous in her pure-white wedding dress, captivating everyone who lays eyes on her.
Throngs of Oriana citizens are gathered at the bottom of the stairs to watch the proceedings. Rose hears both cheers and boos, but neither capture her attention.
At the top of the stairs, her groom, Duke Perv, is waiting for her. He seems vaguely out of sorts, but given how composed she’s feeling, Rose suspects she’s just imagining things.
When she reaches the top, they’re going to exchange their wedding vows.
However, Rose’s expression is bright and unclouded.
It was snowing last night, but the morning’s arrival put an end to that. Warm sunlight streams down from the clear blue sky.
She’s done second-guessing herself.
She has no more regrets.
She’s not afraid anymore.
She knows what it is she needs to do.
When she reaches the top of the stairs, she takes her spot beside Perv.
Slightly confused at how ashen his face looks, she waits for the moment to come.
After a sonorous hymn and a Bible reading from the priest, it’s time for the vows.
“Do you pledge to have each other, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, to love and to cherish?”
Perv is the first to speak. “I do.”
All eyes turn to Rose.
A quiet wind blows, sending her honey-blond hair asway. As it does, she smiles—
“I do not.”
—and speaks.
A stir runs through the crowd.
“Wh-what the hell do you mean?!” Perv shouts. His eyes are wide in shock.
Rose turns to face her people. Her honey-yellow eyes gleam, like she’s just figured out what it is that’s precious to her.
“I killed the king.”
Her voice travels easily through the winter air.
All the chatter stops. The crowd is dead silent.
“I won’t make excuses. I acknowledge it all. All the sin, all the mistakes, everything. But there’s one final thing I want to make very clear.”
Her wedding dress whirls as she points.
“You, Duke Perv, are guilty.”
What runs through the crowd this time is less of a stir and more of a storm.
“Of what? What crime would you accuse me of?!”
“You’ve violated the public trust. You manipulated your king, sullied your queen, and plotted to overthrow the government. I accuse you of high treason.”
“Lies and slander! What proof do you have of any of that?!”
“None whatsoever,” Rose says unashamedly. She has no intention of dancing around the matter or of obfuscating it.
Perv lowers his voice. “Okay, enough screwing around. I’ve got a hostage, remember?” he growls threateningly. “Take back what you just said, say your vows like a good little girl, and I’m willing to overlook what you just did.”
Rose beams. Her smile is stunning enough to enchant any who witness it. “I can’t do that. I promised myself I would see my love through, no matter the cost.”
With that, Rose produces a ring from her pocket.
It’s the wedding ring her beloved gave to her.
She blushes a little—
“H-h-how do you have that?!”
—and slides it onto her left ring finger.
The moment she does, it emits a blast of light.
The light is so blinding, it paints everything white and blots out the tumultuous crowd down in the plaza.
“Wh—”
When the light dies down, an image of Oriana’s late king hangs projected in the sky.
“Fa…ther…?”
“What…the hell…?!”
Everyone present looks up in disbelief.
“By the time you all hear this declaration, I may no longer be with you.”
The king begins talking as though he’s still alive.
However, his form is translucent, and the sky behind him is visible through his body.
“Day after day, I can feel my mind wither away. It won’t be long before I lose myself entirely and end up getting used as a puppet. Before that happens, though, I want to tell you the truth.”
The image is giving King Oriana’s testament.
“My decline is being caused by some sort of drug. Someone is poisoning me. They could be mixing it into my water, they could be slipping it into my food; I don’t know. They might be administering it some other way altogether. I ask my wife to secretly swap out my meals, but it keeps happening. But while I don’t know the method…I do know the culprit. And it’s Duke Perv.”
Every pair of eyes is on Perv.
“S-such nonsense…”
“He’s being backed by a powerful organization, and they’re trying to seize control of the Oriana Kingdom. I’m afraid I can’t divulge the organization’s name. Still, I’m sure many of you must have found it odd. How could Perv, the mere adopted son of Duke Asshat, have reached such a distinguished position in Oriana in such a brief time frame?”
From there, King Oriana begins exposing one after another of Perv’s schemes.
He details all the dirty tricks Perv used, lays out proof of his wrongdoings, and lists the people Perv used as drugged puppets or paid off to turn traitor.
Once he’s finished, the king smiles gently.
“I plan on fighting to the bitter end to protect this nation, but even if I fall, there’s nothing for you to fear. When that happens, I leave Oriana’s future in the hands of my daughter, who I trust and adore more than any other. No matter what happens, I want you all to believe in her. She will be the one to lead our nation to greatness.”
Then, he turns and looks at Rose.
It should just be an image. The man is long since dead.
However, the king’s gaze is fixed on Rose all the same. It’s almost as though his soul is inhabiting the image, like a tiny part of him still dwells in the ring.
The king calls her by name.
“Rose, I entrust the kingdom’s future to you.”
All of a sudden, Rose remembers everything.
Those are the exact same words as the final ones he said when she stabbed him through the chest.
Her father loved her up to his dying breath.
“Father…”
She can feel a heat rising up inside her.
Large tears spill from her eyes, and the image of King Oriana fades into the sky.
“This is absurd! Who would believe that drivel?!” Perv roars.
Rose shoots her piercing honey-yellow gaze straight at him. “As Oriana’s princess—I condemn you.”
“Shut up, you! Guards, get over here! Seize this girl at once!”
Not a single person obeys his order.
The guards simply stare at him coldly.
“Wh-what is this? Why aren’t they doing anything?!” Perv scans his surroundings, spreading his arms wide as he shouts. “You’re abandoning me?! Throwing me to the wolves?! After all I’ve done for the organization?!”
It’s almost like he’s directing his plea at someone the rest of them can’t see.
“It’s over.”
Rose flicks her arm as elegantly as if she were dancing.
When she does, a section of her wedding dress reverts to white slime, then molds itself into a rapier.
She brandishes it.
“I hope you’ve made your peace, Duke Perv.”
“You really think you can take me? Do you have any idea who I am?!”
With a look of pure rage, Perv draws his sword in turn.
A shrill noise rings out as the two blades meet.
“This isn’t possible…” As the two of them stand with their blades locked, Perv grimaces. “You’re my equal?! When did you become so strong?!”
“Oh, we’re hardly equals.”
The white rapier’s first move sweeps Perv’s sword to the side.
“Rgh…”
Its second is a slash that leaves white afterimages in its wake and flips Perv’s sword upward.
“How are you so fast…?!”
And its third…
Its third traces a gleaming ivory arc through the air as it runs Perv through.
“This can’t…be…”
Perv stares blankly at the rapier stabbing him in the chest.
“There was hesitation in your sword work,” Rose says. “You’ll never cut anyone like that.”
She wrenches her blade free, and Perv crumples powerlessly to his knees.
“I was supposed…to join the Rounds… I can’t…fall…here…”
Then, he finds a white rapier being pressed against his throat.
“It’s no use… If you kill me…he will just—”
“What do you mean, ‘he’?”
Perv looks up at her with bloodshot eyes. “Heh-heh… His name…is Mor— GYAAAH!”
Out of nowhere, Perv’s eyes bulge as wide as they can possibly go.
He coughs up a huge blood clot.
Rose shrinks back. “What…? Why?”
As she does, Perv’s severed head rolls off his body.
It tumbles over to the stairs, then begins plopping its way down. First one step, then two, then three…
Queen Reina rushes over from the guest seats and scoops up Perv’s head. “No, NOOOOOO! Rose, you monster! How could you do this to him?!”
Rose shakes her head “No, that wasn’t me…”
Whoever killed Perv, it wasn’t her.
Somehow, whoever did it was able to lop his head clean off with nobody even noticing them do it.
“But who could’ve—?”
Rose looks around.
One man at the ceremony has a different air about him than all the others.
The man has fiery-red hair. He leisurely ascends the stairs.
He was in an area that everyone was paying attention to, yet nobody paid him any notice.
“I thought I could get a little more use out of him…”
It’s only when he speaks that the people around him even realize he’s there.
The guards draw their swords and move to surround him. “Wh-who the hell are you?!”
The moment they do, however, their heads fall to the ground. The crowd screams as blood gushes from the guards’ necks.
“Stay back!” Rose cries. “He’s dangerous!”
She wasn’t even able to see his attack. A single glance is enough for her to tell how outstanding his talents are.
“Who are you?” she asks.
“They call me Mordred.”
“Mordred…”
Rose recognizes the name. That’s the ninth seat of the Knights of Rounds—Sir Mordred, the Knight Beyond Men.
Rose cautiously puts some distance between herself and him. “And what business do you have here, Sir Mordred?”
“Just a little cleanup. You know what they say—no foe is deadlier than an incompetent ally.”
As Mordred speaks, he walks over to Perv’s corpse. Queen Reina is clinging to the body like her life depends on it.
“Out of the way.”
“Mother, get out of—!”
Rose is too late.
Mordred cuts Queen Reina down, then sets both her corpse and Perv’s corpse ablaze.
The flames are an eerily bloody shade of red.
“Mother…”
Rose levels her white rapier at Mordred.
However, Mordred shows no signs of wanting to fight her. He just smiles coldly.
“The key’s been passed down.”
“What key?”
“That means the door is free to open.”
“What are you talking about…?”
All of a sudden, ominous mana begins flowing freely. It’s so heavy and thick it makes it difficult to breathe.
“It’s not without its risks, but I sent it on a rampage.”
Their surroundings are inexplicably dark.
At first, Rose assumes the sun is hiding behind a cloud.
However, that isn’t it. Darkness is spreading across the heavens directly.
“What’s going on…?”
“The Black Rose slew a hundred thousand Velgaltan troops in a single night…but at the same time, it obliterated the royal capital.”
The inky blackness gnaws away at the sky itself.
Something vaguely resembling flower petals whirls about its center.
“This is the legend’s true form—the Black Rose of the Oriana Kingdom.”
The darkness swells.
A seemingly endless horde of black, newborn lumps cascades down from the Black Rose.
They’re hideous beasts the likes of which nobody present has ever seen.
“The Cult has a rule: No witnesses. The banquet of slaughter begins now.”
“E-everyone, run!”
At Rose’s scream, the overawed spectators begin fleeing.
However, the obsidian beasts rush at them with a terrible zeal.
“Ahhhhhhhh!”
Rose hears a familiar-sounding shriek. She looks over and sees her maid.
“Margaret!”
Margaret has fallen over, and one of the beasts is gnashing at her.
Rose cleaves forward with her white rapier, positioning herself squarely between Margaret and the creature.
Her rapier meets the beast’s claws, and its black blood splatters across the ground.
“Margaret, are you okay?”
She hugs Margaret tightly. The maid is trembling.
“R-Rose…my lady…”
“Thank goodness you’re all right. You need to get inside to safety, and fast.”
Margaret rises to her feet. “A-at once!”
She turns to run, then stops and turns back.
“I—I just want to say… I misjudged you, Princess Rose. A-and…I’m sorry!”
“Don’t give it another thought. Now, go!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Rose smiles gently as she sees Margaret off.
However, the Black Rose is still spitting out those Stygian beasts.
It takes a minimum of ten soldiers to subdue just a single one of them.
“We won’t be able to hold out like this…”
Rose kills as many nearby beasts as she can, but it does little to diminish their forces. If anything, their ranks continue to swell.
The creatures surge after the fleeing crowd like a wave. The next moment, however, they all get sliced to ribbons.
“So—the Shadow Garden makes their move.”
Mordred casts a piercing gaze out into the shadows. That’s where the young women who slew the beasts under the cover of darkness are.
They move in perfect harmony, running circles around the fell creatures as they hunt them with the speed and ferocity of a gale-force wind.
“Number 664, Number 665…”
Rose knows two of them well. They glance at her for a brief moment and smile at her.
Number 559 is there, too—as are Beta and Epsilon of the Seven Shadows.
Beta turns toward Rose and calls over to her. “You did good work.”
“Beta…?”
Beta smiles like the two Numbers did, then turns back forward. Epsilon stands by her side.
“Sir Mordred,” Beta says. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
The ninth Knight of Rounds and the Seven Shadows duo square off.
“The Seven Shadows…”
“Now, before we kill you, we’d like to check our answers on a few things.”
Mordred scoffs. “Shut up, small-timers. I don’t have time to waste entertaining the likes of you.”
With that, he pulls something from his pocket and hurls it into the Black Rose.
“What did you just do…?”
“I called him.”
“Called who?”
A tremendous amount of mana begins gathering at the Black Rose.
Then, it sprays out like black lightning.
And when it does, a massive arm appears in the inky darkness.
“Ragnarok, grand ruler of the Fourth Realm.”
Flame gushes from the arm like blood as the entirety of its owner slowly comes into view.
Its gigantic ebony frame is as taut as steel, and sharp claws extend from the ends of its long, thick arms.
The whole thing is wreathed in fire, and it spreads its massive wings against the jet-black sky.
“Wh-what…? What is that thing…? It’s like some sort of demon…” Rose is unable to hide her horrified trembling. It’s the first time in her life she’s ever felt so overwhelmed.
“Is that…what I think it is?” Epsilon asks.
“It is indeed,” Beta replies.
With a flap of its massive wings, Ragnarok makes its way across the blackened sky and heads straight for Beta and Epsilon.
“Pulverize them, Ragnarok.”
But then, a flash of bluish-purple light shatters the darkness to smithereens.
“Wh—?”
Magical aftershocks ripple across the capital.
They’re followed by a scream of pain. A jet of scalding-hot blood sprays up from one of Ragnarok’s wings.
The amputated wing wafts down like a leaf from a tree, and Ragnarok’s massive frame begins plummeting downward.
A man in a jet-black longcoat swoops out of the darkness.
He flicks his ebony blade to shake off the smoldering blood still clinging to it.
“A bat on fire? That’s not something you see every day.”
“Master Shadow!”
“Shadow… Even catching him by surprise, I’m impressed you could cut a wing off Ragnarok.”
Mordred sounds downright astonished.
However, Shadow only gives him a single glance before turning away and walking off.
Clop. Clop.
Shadow’s boots click, and his jet-black longcoat flutters.
“You’ll need far more than that to lay him low, though. All you’ve done is anger—”
“Shut up, small-timer,” Shadow snaps, cutting him off.
“ ”
Mordred’s face contorts with rage.
Shadow’s gaze is fixed far off in the distance.
He’s looking at the now-one-winged Ragnarok. The monster landed well outside the capital.
Shadow brings his bluish-purple magic back in. It begins glowing ever brighter as it envelops his legs.
Then, he leaps up into the blackened sky.
The bluish-purple trail he leaves behind fades after him with tremendous speed. Magic and fire clash in the distance, causing shock waves that reach all the way to the capital.
“The man has too much faith in his own strength. What a fool. Ragnarok will eviscerate him.”
“We’ll see who the fool is soon enough,” Beta says coldly.
“Know your place, child. No man can stand against Ragnarok.”
“What a sorry man you are. You have no idea just what Master Shadow is capable of.”
“I said, know your place.”
Rose gulps as she watches Mordred’s mana wax fuller and fuller.
Mordred is so powerful it’s downright inhuman. However, the Seven Shadows are plenty inhuman in their own right.
“Let’s play, you and I,” Beta says. “We’ll show just what we’re capable of.”
She draws her blade.
The battle between the two Seven Shadows members and the Knight Beyond Men begins quietly.
They move in steps. No, half steps.
Slowly but surely, Beta and Epsilon inch toward their foe.
Then, in unison, they come to a halt.
The position at which they freeze has the three of them—Beta, Epsilon, and Mordred—positioned like points on a triangle. The way they stopped, it was like they could see something directly in front of them.
The night wind blows through their hair.
The corner of Mordred’s lip curls upward.
Then, in the blink of an eye—
“ ”
—Beta and Epsilon leap backward as one.
Something unseen cleaves through the air and leaves a vivid red wound across Epsilon’s cheek. Rose watches in shock as a bead of blood streams down from the cut.
Mordred was able to wound the legendary Faithful.
That, more than anything, speaks volumes about how inhuman his talents are.
Beta fixes her gaze on Mordred. “I see… So, this is the power of the Knight Beyond Men.”
“That it is,” he replies. “If you had taken even a single step farther, your head and your neck would have parted for good. I suppose I should compliment you for having dodged it.”
“Don’t bother. You’re a petty stage magician, nothing more.”
“A what…?” Mordred growls.
“I have to say, this is the last place I expected to run into the magic sword of legend. You’re using the Invisible Blade, the long-lost elven artifact sword that’s invisible to the eye.”
Mordred responds to Beta’s glare with silence.
That tells her everything she needs to know.
“Save your breath, I know I’m right. Your blade smells of elves. It reminds us of our failing homeland, and it fills our ears with the lament of the smith who poured their very life force into it.”
“Now you’re just making things up.”
“That sword belongs in the elven capital. I don’t know how you got your hands on it, but it’s time for you to return it.”
“Hmph. And you’re going to make me?”
“Oh, most certainly…”
Beta grins, and Epsilon finishes her sentence for her.
“…Because you’re not the only one with invisible weapons at their disposal.”
“What?”
As Mordred regards them quizzically, it comes.
Something whizzes through the darkness and carves up his hair.
A few tufts flutter about.
“Wait, did you just…throw your magic…?”
Mordred is shocked.
Throwing magic is no easy feat.
When a person sends magic outside their body, they lose control of it almost immediately as it begins to disperse. Not only would manipulating it from that point require a tremendous amount of mana and technical proficiency, but mastering that technique to the level of being able to use it in live combat would require an unbelievable amount of effort.
Yet despite Epsilon’s tender age, she’s done just that.
Her attack has such speed.
Such intensity.
That level of magic control is unthinkable.
If it wasn’t, every dark knight in the world would have cast aside their swords ages ago in favor of throwing their magic.
“It can’t be…”
Epsilon proudly clicks her high heels and throws out her chest. “That was a warning shot. The only reason your head is still on is because I want it that way. Now, either tell us what we want, or we’ll hurt you until you tell us anyways. The choice is yours.”
Mordred grinds his molars in loathing. “You really think you have me beat…?”
“Don’t forget about me, by the way. I hope you don’t mind a little two-on-one.”
Beta comes and stands beside Epsilon, throwing out her chest as well, like it’s a competition.
“Man, this fantasy world doesn’t mess around. Even their bats are ginormous,” I remark as I face off against the massive flaming bat.
My original plan, for a variety of reasons, was to watch the birth of Rose the Monarch from off in the distance, but then there was this huge monster outbreak.
No biggie, though. I get what’s going on.
This is the forces of darkness working to hinder the monarch. When the redheaded dude summoned the bat, it was to stop her from coming into her own.
No matter the era, people will always have power struggles.
“Y’know, you look kinda badass. You’ve got the whole ‘demon king’ vibe down pat,” I say to the bat, who’s still pretty pissed I chopped its wing off.
It responds with a growl.
Apparently, it’s gonna take more than a single severed wing to bring this bad boy down. Its wound has already finished regenerating. Plus, the thing’s one hell of a tank, and the amount of mana it’s working with is unbelievable.
If I try to fight this thing fair and square, there’s a good chance it’ll trounce me.
Good thing I’m not planning on fighting fair, huh?
“Shall we begin?”
As an eminence in shadow, it’s my duty to take it down in a single stylish blow, then say a few ominous words before vanishing myself.
To that end, I do a little hop backward.
A moment later, the bat’s pointed claws eviscerate the spot where I was just standing.
Next, I hop to the side.
The bat brings its meaty arm down, leaving a crater at the impact site.
That one blow could’ve taken out a dozen houses, easy. And on top of that, it would’ve set everything around them on fire.
This thing’s like a walking natural disaster.
No matter how tempered their mana is, a human would have to charge up if they wanted to call forth power on that scale.
That’s the crazy thing about beasts—their ability to wield power like that at the drop of a hat.
At the end of the day, though, a beast is still just a beast.
I breathe in and focus all my efforts on dodging the bat’s attacks.
Fighting a beast fair and square is a sucker’s game.
As the bat continues its fiery onslaught, I continue gathering data.
I want to know what this guy is capable of, and what it isn’t.
What it’s willing to do, and what it won’t.
It’s important that I understand what it will do in any given situation, as well as how it will react to each action I take.
The thing is, beasts are simple creatures. Put them in the same situation over and over, and they’ll approach it the same way each and every time.
However, they also get wary once they take a hit.
There are exceptions to those rules, of course, but when they come up, it’s always the product of random happenstance rather than something the beasts chose through careful consideration.
I make sure to keep an eye out for those rare exceptions as I continue dodging all over the place.
If I try to slash at this magic spammer, all it’ll do is wear me out.
Instead, I can just take the camping route and wait it out. That way, I don’t have to put myself in any danger.
With each massive wham, the bat smashes another hole in the beautiful earth.
Looks like kicking it out of the capital was the right call.
Now, then.
I’ve basically figured out all of our flamy bat friend’s attack patterns, so I figure it’s probably high time to make my move.
Then, out of the blue, its pointed tail sweeps in front of my eyes and fills my entire vision with fire.
“Welp, found the exception.”
The moment I realize things are off, I hurl myself backward.
Not a moment later, I sense a massive amount of magic approaching, and a heavy impact sinks into my flesh.
OP magic, OP power… I swear, beasts have it all.
I focus all my magic on defense.
As I do, I twist my body to soften the blow.
I’ve practiced this maneuver a thousand times over. I could pull it off in my sleep.
A moment later, I get blasted away. If I were a baseball, I’d be an outta-the-park homer if ever there was one.
I stick the landing like a proper eminence in shadow, then check for damage.
My bones and organs all seem fine.
“But my bangs…are singed.”
In the blink of an eye, I slice away the frizzly bits and make it like nothing ever happened.
“To think you would be able to inflict such a blow on me.”
There’s a good chance nobody’s listening, but I shoot off a line to set the mood anyway and stare up at the sky.
Up above, the burning bat soars around in the darkness with its freshly regenerated wing and sucks in air.
Is it gonna do a breath attack?
I could try tanking it, but the royal capital is right behind me, so that’s probably a no-go.
Besides, I’ve finished all my prep work.
Based on the results of my investigation, it would appear that the fire bat has a habit of completely ignoring finer, more delicate magic.
From there, the rest is simple.
“The skies are under my dominion. Engrave that knowledge in your flesh…within my birdcage of darkness.”
I take the finely woven threads of magic I’ve been laying out across the dark sky and pour mana into all of them at once.
The burning bat lets out an earsplitting roar.
The threads have no mercy, and they’re slicing it to ribbons.
A torrent of blood gushes from the bat’s body as it plummets.
With a great tremor, it crashes into the ground.
Still, it’s hard to overstate just how much mana it’s got.
No matter how much magic I pour into those tiny threads, there’s no way they could ever deal it a serious blow.
It rises back up from amid the cloud of dust, and its eyes gleam with an incandescent rage. Its wounds will be all better soon.
But the thing is, beasts get wary once they take a hit.
I start casting out threads of finely spun magic again.
This time, the bat treats them with respect and takes care to dodge them.
At this point, it isn’t willing to ignore any magic, no matter how minute. At the same time, though, it doesn’t actually understand what it is that got it into its earlier predicament.
That makes manipulating it a breeze.
It’s done for.
It still wants to fight, but it doesn’t have the brains to get through its current predicament. The battle is all but over.
“I grant you the auspicious title of ‘Dumber than Delta.’”
From here, the rest is academic, so I start trying to figure out what the shadowbrokeriest way to finish it off would be.
“Okay, so I start by lopping off the arm…”
“How…are you this strong…?”
Rose watches in shock as Mordred’s face twists in humiliation.
She knew that the Seven Shadows were on a different level, but still, she never imagined that the gulf between them and Mordred would be quite so vast.
“Me, bested by a pair of little girls?”
Mordred rests on one knee as he hacks up blood. Beta looks down at him coldly. “Don’t tell me you think you lost because you were outnumbered, do you?”
“Rgh…”
He glares at her. A trail of blood runs down from the corner of his lip.
“It would have ended the exact same way. If you can’t see that, then I pity you, and if you can but you’re lying to yourself, then you’re a fool. Which is it, I wonder?”
“Shut up, you… If you’re so confident, why not fight me alone from the start?”
“We had a numbers advantage. Why wouldn’t I use it?”
Rose isn’t surprised. From watching the battle, she suspects that Beta doesn’t find combat all that interesting. Very little of her personality comes through in her fighting style.
She doesn’t have any tics, nor is she at all inventive. She simply takes what she was taught and carries it out with strict fidelity.
The Shadow Garden has taken the fighting style Shadow invented and formalized it so they can teach it to their members. Out of all of them, Beta the Steadfast is the one who’s replicated it with the highest degree of accuracy.
On a fundamental level, she just doesn’t care about fighting all that much.
That’s why she’s satisfied with what she’s capable of and doesn’t aspire to anything more. Her true interests probably lie more on the literary side of things.
“This isn’t over yet… I still have Ragnarok.”
“I suppose you do.”
Heh.
Beside Beta, Epsilon lets out a giggle. “If that’s what you’re holding out hope for, then we’d be more than happy to wait until Master Shadow has finished his battle.”
“…What’s your angle?”
“I have two reasons. The first is our absolute faith that Master Shadow will prevail.”
This time, it’s Mordred’s turn to laugh. His voice rings with scorn. “You’re a fool.”
“As for the second, it’s like we said earlier. We want to check our answers on a few things. On the Black Rose, on the magical beasts…and on Diablos.”
“And why would I play along?”
“If you’re that sure Ragnarok will win, what’s the harm?”
Beta’s and Mordred’s gazes meet. Each of them is trying to suss out the other.
Eventually, Beta levels her ebony blade at Mordred—
“Fine. It’s not as though knowing will save you from Ragnarok’s flames.”
—and after a brief silence, he begins talking.
“Did you know that there are countless other worlds beyond our own?”
“I take it you aren’t talking about outer space,” Beta replies.
“I’m talking about entire other dimensions. We call them Realms.”
“Realms…”
“There are scores of them. Worlds frozen pole to pole in ice, worlds so poisonous that no life can take root there, worlds of searing flame, empty worlds devoid of light and color…and worlds populated by powerful magical beasts.”
“So, worlds with magical beasts in them are Realms?”
“No, all worlds other than ours are Realms.”
Beta nods, urging him to continue.
“Now, all these Realms orbit around a single point. Even our world is no exception.”
“What’s at the center of it all?” Epsilon asks.
Mordred shoots her a look and shakes his head. “Who knows? Perhaps it’s God.”
“That is to say, you can’t even observe it?”
“Not even a little. But whatever’s at the center is the least of our worries. The problem is all these worlds orbiting around. Round and round they spin as the years go by.”
Mordred draws circles in the air with two of his fingers, then starts bringing them closer together.
“Until, bang.”
His finger circles overlap.
“Every so often, the worlds collide. The impact sends rifts across the worlds, and for a moment, two different worlds become linked. When that happens, each exerts influence on the other.”
“They become linked and influence each other…,” Beta says, parroting his words to better chew them over.
“Let me give you an example. We performed a geological survey, and what it told us was that ten million years ago, there was no magic in our world. It just didn’t exist. The question is, where did it come from?”
“You’re saying it was from one of these Realms?”
“It certainly seems that way. It’s not like it could have just popped into existence one day from nothing. It came from another world. When we came into contact with a Realm, it poured a colossal amount of mana our way. And when that happened, it had drastic effects on our ecosystem.”
“So, that’s why the dragons went into decline?”
Mordred raises an eyebrow and nods. “Exactly. Long ago, this world was ruled by dragons. Not the dragons we have today—an older type called ancient wyrms. But at one point, the wyrms went into decline. And that point was exactly ten million years ago. They failed to adapt to the magic that flowed in from the Realm, and those that succeeded—us humans—prospered where the dragons once thrived.”
The two members of the Seven Shadows nod along with Mordred’s explanation.
They probably already had a general idea about all that. Besides, what they said was that they wanted to check their answers.
For Rose, however, all of this is new information. It takes everything she has just to keep up with the conversation.
“But magic isn’t the only thing Realms can bring.”
“You mean the magical beasts.”
Mordred nods. “There are two theories for where they come from. The first is the explanation commonly accepted by scholars, where magical beasts are simply animals from our world that evolved in response to magic. However, that theory has a few holes. Biologically speaking, magical beasts bear no resemblance to any animal we know of. And furthermore, could something as simple as affinity for magic truly transform normal animals into magical beasts?”
“It’s certainly a stretch.”
“Magical beasts operate on a fundamentally different logic than we do. They defy every rule of nature. And the magical beasts might not be the only thing alien to this world. Humanity itself might originally hail from a Realm, as well.”
“Wait…people?”
Shock crosses Beta’s expression for the first time in the whole exchange. Mordred smiles smugly. “There are still a lot of mysteries revolving around us. Out of all the species in this world, we stand head and shoulders above all the others in terms of our intellect and our prosperity. It’s a quality unique to people, and people alone. It begs the question—are we even native to this world at all?”
Nobody has an answer to that.
“Our world has been sent many things from Realms, but the inverse is true as well. Sometimes, the Realms suck things away from us.”
“You mean, like getting spirited away.”
“Exactly. Long, long ago, an entire nation vanished in the blink of an eye. Where, then, did Atlantis go?”
“…To a Realm.”
“That’s certainly the logical conclusion. Now, you get it. The Cult’s working theory is that our world and the Realms interact with each other on a cyclical basis, and when they do, each one exerts influence over the other.”
“So did the demon Diablos come from a Realm as well?”
“Not quite. The demon itself was born and raised here, make no mistake. But the same isn’t true of the original.”
“The what?”
“The organism that became the basis for Diablos.”
Beta’s and Epsilon’s gazes grow harsher. “Sure enough…it’s just like we thought.”
“Heh. We theorize that Diablos called the original in from a Realm—one that we’ve taken to calling the First Realm.”
“The First Realm…”
“The Fourth Realm is ranked lower than the First, but Ragnarok is still its ruler. I think that makes it good and clear just how impossible it is for any human to best it.” Mordred sneers before continuing. “Go on, then. Check your last answer. Tell me what you think the Black Rose is.”
The two members of Seven Shadows exchange a look to confirm their thoughts. Then, Beta speaks. “It’s a gate that can connect our world to Realms.”
“Bingo.” An unpleasant smile spreads across Mordred’s face and he offers them a round of applause. “When the Black Rose slew a hundred thousand Velgaltan soldiers in a single night, that happened completely by accident. It just so happened that in that moment, another world linked up with ours and poured magical beasts in by the bucketload. It was a stroke of misfortune for Velgalta, to be sure, but Oriana didn’t exactly get off scot-free. Even with the Velgaltan soldiers dead, the gate kept dumping out magical beasts, and the magical beasts began consuming Oriana and everything in it. If a certain someone hadn’t stepped in and closed the gate, Oriana would have been quite literally obliterated.”
“And that’s when the Cult of Diablos decided to make the entire nation their puppet.”
“Ah, you’re better informed than I thought. Still, I think that’s a pretty uncharitable interpretation. After all, we were the ones who closed the gate and saved the kingdom. And on top of that, our stewardship of the Black Rose ensured that the kingdom would survive in perpetuity. It seemed only reasonable that they give us fair compensation.”
“Compensation? From the kingdom…?” Rose says, cutting into the conversation. She can’t hold her tongue any longer.
“That’s right, compensation. Namely, blood…royal blood.”
“The blood of the heroes who defeated Diablos runs thick in the Oriana Kingdom,” Beta explains. Her tone is sympathetic. “The Cult needed that blood…for their experiments.”
Rose balks. “Wait, you mean…”
“It was your blood we wanted, Rose Oriana. You were blessed with incredible amounts of magic, even for a royal, and by all rights, they should have turned you over to us as a baby. But that fool of a king refused to,” Mordred says.
Beta elaborates. “That wasn’t the only compensation the Cult demanded. Huge amounts of your tax revenues went to them as well, and the original reason the Oriana Kingdom invested so heavily in the arts was so it could entertain them. On top of that, the way your churches persecuted dark knights was a way for the Cult to prevent Oriana from gaining the strength to rebel against it. Your father wanted to break the cycle. He forged an alliance with Midgar, worked to fix his twisted nation from within, and tried to secede from the Cult. And because of that…they killed him.”
Rose’s lips tremble in disbelief. “It can’t be… You mean, the reason he allowed me to study abroad…”
Beta averts her eyes. “He was trying to get you somewhere safe. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but we weren’t sure when to do it. If I’d known this was going to happen, I would have told you earlier…”
“The king was a fool,” Mordred says. “But every cloud has its silver lining. Inside the gate, the Black Rose is unstable. We can’t fully control what world it will link us to yet. It will be a hassle, but the Cult is going to have to take direct control of the Oriana Kingdom from now on. If nothing else, that will make our research progress at a faster—”
“I won’t let you.”
A quiet voice cuts in, interrupting Mordred’s speech. What it lacks in volume, however, it makes up for in resolve.
“I’ll pick up where my father left off…and right this nation’s path with my own two hands!”
Rose gets to her feet. Her wedding dress flashes a vivid shade of white against the darkness draping the capital.
Determination burns in her eyes like fire.
Mordred laughs. “Good luck with that. Ragnarok is about to burn Oriana to the ground, so you—”
Then, a fireball comes roaring out of the sky.
“Agh—!”
It’s unclear who screamed, but everyone there leaps backward.
Everyone but Mordred.
When the fiery mass falls from the sky, it crushes his left arm.
“Rgh—!”
He contorts his body in an attempt to pull himself free.
“What the hell even is this?!”
He kicks the mass.
It turns out to be a gigantic arm.
A right arm, to be precise, thick and hideous and burning bloodred.
Mordred wrenches his leg out from under it, then takes another look at the arm.
“It can’t be… This is Ragnarok’s?!” he cries in shock.
He stares at it, but there are no two ways about it. The arm clearly used to belong to Ragnarok.
“W-well, it is just an arm. Losing it would hardly be enough to bring down the king of the Fourth—”
Another fiery lump descends toward them.
A terrible crashing sound booms out as it smashes into the ground. It’s a left arm just as grotesque as the right.
Mordred reels backward. “This doesn’t make sense. Wh-what’s going on…?”
When he whirls around in an attempt to avert his gaze from reality, he sees a silver-haired elf standing behind him.
“I think that makes it pretty clear who the fool is. Master Shadow has had you dancing in the palm of his hand this whole time,” Beta says sympathetically. Her hands move at a blistering clip as she writes something in a notebook.
“What…?”
“Why was it we had so many forces here today? Why did the Black Rose react? Why did Rose Oriana have the key? If you think about it for a minute, you’ll understand what I mean.”
“Th-that’s not possible…,” Mordred mutters blankly. “You mean to say he knew everything from the very start?”
“That’s exactly right.”
“But if he knew, then why not just—?”
Suddenly, Mordred’s eyes go wide with comprehension.
“H-he wanted to observe us, to see what we’d do?! He plans on destroying the Black Rose in its entirety?!”
His scream rings with disbelief.
Beta and Epsilon smile by way of an answer.
“That can’t be, and even if it can, Ragnarok will still… It’ll still…”
More fireballs descend from the sky.
First, a pair of wings.
Two of them, like a pair of massive dead leaves.
Then, two legs and a tail.
They roll by as lumberingly as felled tree trunks.
The final piece to fall is a body—and it’s accompanied by a man clad all in black.
“Sh-Shadow!”
His jet-black longcoat flutters as he swoops down and swings his obsidian blade.
The slash severs Ragnarok’s head from its torso, finally ending the creature’s life.
In its final moments, its flames burn an even more intense shade of red.
As Shadow shakes the blood off his sword, the shadow he casts seems to stretch to the ends of the earth.
The blood burns scarlet as its shoots through the dark sky like fireworks.
“No, no, no… How can Shadow be so powerful?!”
“It’s over.”
The sable beasts overrunning the capital are all gone.
There’s a group of young Shadow Garden women standing beneath the Black Rose and slicing the new offshoots to ribbons as fast as it can spit them out. The girls have already hunted down all the ones scattered across the city.
Number 559 stands at their vanguard. Rose catches her gaze for a moment, and angry sparks fly silently between them.
“You took down the magical beasts, too? How is the Shadow Garden so much stronger than the Fourth Realm…?” Mordred mutters, aghast. Then, a hollow laugh escapes from his throat, as if his soul is trying to flee his body. “Heh-heh… Heh… Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!”
It’s oddly unsettling.
“I pity you,” Beta says.
“Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee. Heh-heh… I-I’m not finished yet.”
Mordred’s eyes snap open. He grabs a fistful of Ragnarok’s flesh and stuffs it into his mouth.
“Wh—”
“This is my power—the culmination of all my efforts!”
Munch, munch.
As he chews the meat and audibly swallows, his body begins changing.
His skin turns as black as the night.
His eyes become red and bloodshot.
His flesh swells, like he’s about to burst.
And his hair, which was already a fiery red, bursts into bloodred flames.
“Master Shadow, should I…?”
Beta looks to Shadow for guidance, and she’s pretty sure she sees him nod ever so slightly. He could have just been tilting his head in confusion, but surely there’s no way that’s the case.
“As you wish.”
Sensing her master’s intentions, she falls back.
She gazes at Shadow with absolute, unshakable faith in her eyes.
“BEHOLD, MY NEW FORM! THIS IS POWER PERFECTED!”
Mordred’s roar splits the air with a bestial fervor.
By now, he looks like a horrible amalgam of Ragnarok and a human being.
“I CAN FEEL THE STRENGTH COURSING THROUGH ME!”
He brings his arm, now wreathed in fire, slamming down on Shadow.
A thunderous crash follows, accompanied by a spray of rubble.
“Heh-heh, now do you see? Do you see my—huh?”
When Mordred pulls his arm back, however, Shadow is nowhere to be seen.
All Mordred finds is the massive crater he himself left.
“WHERE DID YOU GO? DID I BURN YOU DOWN TO NOTHING?”
Then, he hears what sounds like a voice rising from the depths of the abyss.
“You’re just a failed experiment.”
“ME? A FAILED EXPERIMENT?”
Mordred whirls around and finds Shadow standing right there.
Shadow turns his back on Mordred and casts his jet-black gaze up toward the sky. “Even the bat was stronger than you.”
“Big words…FOR A MAN WHO’S TURNING TAIL AND RUNNING!”
Shadow lets out a small laugh. “Merging with beasts is one thing, but letting your intellect degrade to their level? That’s just sad.”
“THE WORDS OF A SORE LOSER!”
Mordred snatches at Shadow with both hands.
But once again, all he grabs is air.
“ !”
Mordred senses someone behind him and turns.
It’s Shadow, still looking up at the sky with his back to Mordred.
“The darkened sky heralds the end. Can you hear the nascent monarch’s cry?”
“SHUT UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP!” Mordred howls.
Magic gathers at Shadow’s right hand. It’s so powerful the very air begins to quiver.
The magic gradually gains in intensity, and before long, the entire capital is shaking.
Tempestuous winds blow every whichway.
Clouds whirl through the sky and spit out lightning.
The magic practically seems to suck it all in as it continues collecting itself. The people at the center of that little world begin seeing flashes of bluish-purple light.
Finally, it gathers at his obsidian sword, spiraling through the air and drawing an elaborate pattern over the weapon’s blade.
“I AM—”
Shadow’s voice rumbles out deeply, and the bluish-purple magic glows ever brighter.
“WH-WHAT IS THAT MAGIC?! ARE YOU EVEN REALLY HU—?”
“—ATOMIC.”
With that, the bluish-purple light blots out the world.
When the light dies down, the world stands completely altered.
The sky is blue again, and the sun’s rays are streaming down. Rose can see her breath in the crisp, clear winter air.
Shadow stands at the very center of the world, raising his jet-black sword to the sky.
“Are you…? Are you really…?”
Rose starts to say something, but then goes quiet.
For some reason, two piano players are starting to overlap in her mind.
There’s no way. It simply isn’t possible. Yet she finds herself drawn to Shadow’s each and every movement all the same.
“So, that was Master Shadow’s plan for the Black Rose…”
Beta and Epsilon look up at the sky. There, they see the shattered Black Rose.
Not even it survived Shadow’s mighty attack.
As they watch, it slowly crumbles to pieces. As it does, a small mass gets sucked into it.
The mass is covered in blackened skin and red hair. It’s Mordred, now reduced to nothing more than a head.
Then…
“I give myself to the ebony vortex, and vanish into the world of darkness…”
With that, the shadowy figure dives straight into the Black Rose.
“Huh?”
“What?”
“Master Shadow?”
The Black Rose swallows Shadow whole.
The girls stare up in shock—
“I-I-I’m coming, too!”
—and Beta, tears in her eyes, dives in as well.
Not a moment later, the Black Rose disappears, gone from the world for good.
Everything is dead silent for a little while.
Epsilon mutters a sort of strange incantation to herself as she stares at the sky. “…I-I’m sure Master Shadow had some grand design in mind. Of course he did. His resourcefulness lets him see through everything. His eyes are like those of a god. His radiant gaze burns incandescent, and his jet-black blade cleaves the skies and parts the seas…”
“Oh no, my ring…”
For some reason, Rose’s wedding ring lies shattered as well.
Rose takes that as a sign of what’s become of her beloved. The blood drains from her face.
And with that, the battle for the Oriana Kingdom comes to a close.
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