“You want me to write you?” Warlkin asked, inspecting the shoulder bag that contained a magic quill, a stack of stationery, and more silver coins—presumably for his troubles. “Your mistress already left me coin. I don’t need more.”
“Just take it. Starting a new life can be more expensive than you think,” Fuji insisted. He, too, had begun a new life when he turned from bandit leader to Holy Maiden’s guard. Satisfied, Fuji stomped back into the Holy Castle, his signature hairdo bouncing with each step.
“Tell your mistress—” Warlkin called. “Strangely, she and the dragonborn seemed a good match.”
Fuji guffawed. “That’ll make my Queen blush.” He waved, disappearing into the castle.
With one last look at the Holy Castle, Warlkin began his journey to the village of Rabbi, his steady march underscored with determination.
——The Rift, Northern Holylight.
Satanists were moving about an expansive underground facility, especially large compared to Warlkin’s cell. Everyone’s hands were piled high with some sort of cargo, as they had been forced to vacate their headquarters. They had been tipped off that the entirety of Northern Holylight was going to be made a fortress, with several underground facilities slated for construction.
Utopia sat at his throne, biting his lip and muttering bitter curses. As if to mock him, a bat flew over his head and perched upside down from the extravagant chandelier. It spoke, “I told you once before. If you truly long for something, you need to move your own feet and get your own hands dirty for it.”
“Did you come all this way to offer a cheap platitude, Allit?” Utopia spat.
“I also told you—the Dragonborn is mine,” Allit added.
“As if I would seek out the monster on purpose!” Utopia shouted, springing to his feet in an outrage. The Satanist grunts jolted as if they had been hit by a shock wave, quickly scurrying from the throne room. Truthfully, Utopia had no interest in the Dragonborn. He had only been plotting to destroy the Holy Castle, and the Dragonborn was simply an obstacle that had appeared in his path—an insurmountable obstacle, at that.
“On purpose or not, you’ll never slay the Dragon,” Allit said.
“And you can? When you’ve had two chances and failed both times?” Utopia challenged.
“I am advancing my plan. You are merely playing with cheap marionettes.”
A long spell of silence fell between them.
Finally, Utopia glanced up at the bat. “I heard you devoured one of the Sins—Gluttony. Is it true?”
“Why would I owe you an answer?” Allit dismissed.
Yet, Utopia saw a ray of hope in the bat’s reply. “I am glad that you finally decided to stop your play fighting and take this seriously.”
“I see you’ll still take every opportunity to try and manipulate those superior to you.”
“Don’t write me off yet. There is a downpour of flesh and blood upon this land.” Utopia shifted his gaze forward. Among the cargo the Satanists carried were corpses: Xenobian soldiers, Central warriors, Fire Salamanders, and even other Satanists. The countless dead from the civil war were being hauled underground and tossed into the Northern Rift.
“Giving the Satanic Cross another try?” Allit asked.
“No. I’m using the Northern Nations to mobilize Tartarus itself. By feeding it more death and great lamentation, it shall stain the very continent dark,” said Utopia.
“Ah... Then I will neither support nor interfere.”
“Oh, you don’t mind if I hunt the Dragon down?”
“Don’t concern yourself with that. No matter what scheme you hatch, you won’t kill that beautiful beast. In fact, you won’t so much as scratch his scales.” The bat released itself from the chandelier and flew out of the throne room.
With a bitter sneer on his face, Utopia watched Allit fly off before turning to his Satanist subjects. “Bring all the dead to me! Our grand vision is moments away from fruition!”
They responded with grave acquiescence and resumed trudging, carrying carrion like insects upon the ground.
Deep underground, unseen and unheard by humans, something thrummed, thrummed, thrummed...
——The Royal Palace, the New Kingdom of Xenobia.
An aged commander knelt before the throne with his head lowered—Barrus the Unsinkable. Beatrice, the first queen of Xenobia, looked down upon him from her throne.
“All responsibility lies with me. Please, have mercy on my men,” Barrus implored. He had been commanded to form an alliance with Jack in Euritheis. On the surface, his mission had been a complete failure—not only had he failed to gain Jack’s trust, but when Barrus lost the duel against Ren, he had admitted his defeat with dignity and retreated. In truth, Barrus had prevented the Xenobian army from suffering mass casualties. If someone more rash had commanded those troops in his place, Ren would have annihilated every Xenobian there—several thousand in all, including those stationed outside the capital.
Beatrice graciously motioned to the commander. “No general wins every battle. And I wouldn’t have generals left if I made them pay the price of every battle they lost. Now leave—and rest well.”
“Thank you for your boundless generosity, Your Majesty,” Barrus said, and left the throne room.
Once Beatrice and Kongming were alone, the regal queen broke her flawless posture, slumping into the throne. “That’s another L, Senpai. General Barrus too? What are we going to do?”
“Keep your mouth shut and sit up,” Kongming commanded.
“Check the scoreboard, Senpai. This Demon Lord’s taken down Barrus and Jack... We’re out of our depths here. Let’s just toss in the towel,” Beatrice whined.
“Keep talking nonsense like that and I’ll feed you crickets for every meal!”
“That’s an abuse of power! How could you be so heartless, Senpai?! Well, I guess when you don’t have a soul to begin with—”
“Can it!”
As the pair began to wrestle atop the throne, Hanzo entered the room, bearing more bad news—the outcome of Holylight’s civil war.
“The central nobles lost...?” Kongming repeated with a drawn face. “Their forces were massive.” The central nobles had no reason to have lost this war. They had completely outnumbered the Militants, even before reinforcements from Xenobia and the Tzardom arrived, not to mention the mutiny of the Holy Knights’ Order.
“Our battalion led by Zorm was also decimated by Harts and his Militants,” Hanzo continued.
“Who cares?! What about Leon?!” Kongming demanded.
“Unfortunately, there was no way to infiltrate the fortress,” Hanzo said. “At this point, we can only say that he has not been found...”
“Leon did not lose! There’s no way! He’s an unkillable monster!” Kongming shrieked. Still, Leon was presumed dead or missing, and there was nothing she could do from her palace, nations away from the battleground. “Mobilize all units! Tell the Eight Flags to ready their troops!”
“Seven Flags now, Senpai. General Leon’s gone,” Beatrice interjected.
“Shut up and stay out of it!” Kongming barked.
“I’m waving my white flag, Senpai. Off the record, this Demon Lord is terrifying. You can keep fighting alone and— Hrmmm!”
Kongming shoved handfuls of ice into the queen’s mouth, forcibly silencing her. While their uproar over the Demon Lord seemed to shake the whole royal palace, the only impression the Demon Lord had of Xenobia was that it was “a weird little country of ninjas.”