The sound of footsteps echoed across the grounds. The castle lords had approached Kaltinas from behind. I turned to walk away as they apprehended the Immovable King.
“Urk... Wait, what are you... We’re... Gyaaah!”
In no time at all, the castle lords had tied up Kaltinas with rope.
“Lord Anos, Ruler of Militia,” Zaimon said, standing before me. There were three castle lords behind him—most likely those piloting the Camlahi fortresses earlier. “We cannot thank you enough... Usually our chief god being destroyed would have meant Balandias losing everything. We will not forget the mercy you’ve shown us.”
“Don’t worry about it. I just wasn’t a fan of that norm.”
“Your Majesty,” Farris said. “The Immovable King Kaltinas has met his inevitable end, but the castle demons have been thrust towards the edge of a fatal cliff. From here, they face a far harsher battle...”
Farris still trying, after everything, to mediate for Balandias made me chuckle. “You really aren’t a warrior.”
I used Fless to slowly rise into the sky. Farris looked up in confusion, following me with his gaze. Eventually, that gaze fixed upon Zeridheavens, still floating up above with its wings spread.
“Astrastella, right? So that’s what your wings originally looked like,” Zaimon said. He was looking up at Zeridheavens as well. “It’s a beautiful castle... It may be the first time I’ve ever thought of a castle as beautiful.”
Farris lowered his gaze to his comrade, whose face was still upturned admiring Zeridheavens’s wings.
“Artists must be amazing,” Zaimon continued. “All I can think about is fighting, but you think differently.”
Farris’s eyes widened.
“I thought we had the same ambitions,” Zaimon said. “But you and I aren’t the same at all.”
Farris looked apologetic, but Zaimon lowered his head first. “I’m sorry, Farris,” he said, with remorse. “I burdened you with too much.”
Farris’s expression changed to surprise. He shook his head profusely in clear denial. “No. That’s not it, Zaimon. I chose to take on the burden of your expectations. I could no longer bear to merely watch as your pure, beautiful, and refreshingly honest hearts were hurt over and over again. I chose to become a warrior of my own free will. But at the very end, it was I who betrayed you and failed to put a stop to Kaltin—”
Zaimon threw an arm around Farris, cutting off his words. “No, comrade. That was my fault. I was too weak. If I had been stronger, strong enough that you never had to put down your brush, you would have never forced yourself to break your own heart.” He looked at Farris, face solemn and serious. “This was my fault, you hear? I should have just become ruler instead. No?”
Farris, who, as an artist, didn’t need to be strong.
Zaimon, who, as a warrior, had to be strong.
Thankfully, he was strong enough to realize where he went wrong and hold himself accountable.
“In Balandias, we’re going to do things over as an ephemeral world. Isn’t that right, everyone?” Zaimon turned around and called out to the castle demons. “We’ll rebuild Balandias from the bottom up. Our wings,” and here he shook Farris with the arm he still had around him, “taught us how to stand up to the authority of a chief god. Militia’s ruler, the Demon King of Tyranny Anos Voldigoad, taught us that the order of the world can be defied, and that the chief god can be defeated!”
The castle demons nodded with bright expressions, as though Zaimon’s words helped them see Balandias anew.
“We will construct a new castle. A castle of our very own, one that will be ruled by neither foolish rulers nor savage chief gods! We will build a wonderful world where fighting isn’t everything, one filled with beautiful paintings and castles! Then, one day, we will invite the Silvercastle Creator who led us here with his wings to visit us again!”
“Yeah!!!” the castle demons all yelled in unison. They gathered around Farris in clear excitement and lively chatter.
“Lord Farris, don’t forget us once you return to Militia’s World!”
“No matter where you go, please remember that you are the wings of Balandias. You fought until we castle demons came to our senses. We will never forget your kindness.”
“Rest assured, we are proud castle lords of Balandias. After witnessing an artist valiantly fight with a castle sword, we will no longer be cowards.”
Everyone was trying to free Farris from the guilt of his betrayal by sending him off with a smile. All the castle lords had seen how he had fallen to his knees in front of me earlier and pleaded to paint. His outburst must have reached all the way to their warrior souls.
I looked down upon them—the clear evidence of all the bonds Farris had built while he lived on Balandias—and called out to them. “Here marks the maiden voyage of the newborn Balandias. In congratulations, take this parting gift from Militia’s World.”
The Solar Eclipse of the End—floating peacefully in the sky all this while—inverted, releasing a silver red light: the Lunar Eclipse of Origin.
“Three-sided World: Celestial Globe of Creation,” Militia’s voice echoed.
Silver-red rays of moonlight fell upon the world. Militia’s authority began to recreate the Royal Tiger’s ashes and the rubble of the Great Castle of Causality.
“One last spurt! Let’s do this!” Eleonore cheered.
“Let’s do this... Cheering on!” Zeshia echoed.
Stork feathers burst into being and danced through the moonlight. The emotions created by the source birth magic Ennessone-Eleonore were of endless love and kindness.
“You and your holy sword must both be exhausted, but hang in there, Lay!” Eleonore said encouragingly.
“I know,” Lay replied. He released Evansmana’s power and converted Eleonore’s love and kindness into La Sencia.
“Bwa ha ha! Take some hope while you’re at it!”
In the engine room, Eldmed picked up the shovel in place of the fallen stoker and threw coal into the firebox. Fierce flames rose with the undeniable power of a god.
“Gruuuh... S-Stop... I...” Equis’s voice echoed.
The water wheels and windmills of the Demon King Express turned rapidly, converting Balandias’s despair into hope.
“Ar Ent Ertonoa.”
The sky of Second Balandias turned silver-red. Just like in Militia’s World, Misha’s power as the Goddess of Creation altered Balandias’s order and recreated the Royal Tiger Maytilen and the Great Castle of Causality with kindness.
“The Royal Tiger Maytilen’s disappearance has been confirmed,” the Arbitration Goddess Ottolulu announced from the spot in the sky where she had been supervising the entire skirmish. “I, Ottolulu, declare the Demon King Academy the victors. The firedew of Balandias now belongs to Militia’s World.”
Ar Ent Ertonoa had recreated Maytilen into a different existence, making her lose her status as the chief god.
“I don’t want it,” I replied. “Balandias can keep all its firedew—except for Farris’s.”
“If you collect all of Balandias’s firedew, Militia’s World will have enough to reach the deep-levels,” Ottolulu said. “Are you sure about this?”
“Certain.”
“Understood. The ruler that defeats the chief god has the right to decide what they do afterwards. Are you able to retrieve the firedew yourself?”
I looked up at the Lunar Eclipse of Origin. I wasn’t able to distinguish the firedew from anything else I was seeing.
“Farris’s firedew isn’t here,” Misha replied. “I think it’s in First Balandias.”
“Hmm. Then we’ll have to go there ourselves then.”
“There is no need for that,” Ottolulu said. “Order is connected no matter the distance.”
She drew a magic circle and inserted her windup key into the keyhole. After three turns, the magic circle opened to reveal the glowing firedew within.
“Please accept this.”
Silver-red moonlight fell onto the magic circle, absorbing the firedew into the Lunar Eclipse of Origin.
“Wait... What’s that?” Ottolulu asked, looking down at the ground curiously, cogs appearing within her Divine Eyes. “The power of the perished chief god? But I saw Maytilen’s termination...”
“Watch closely,” I said. “This is how you patch a hole in a bucket.”
The silver-red moonlight faded, and the Lunar Eclipse of Origin vanished from the sky. Balandias’s recreation was complete.
“The sky,” Zaimon muttered from his place on the ground.
All the castle lords were staring upwards at it. The dome was gone from the reborn Balandias, replaced with an endless blue sky.
“A blue sky in Balandias...”
“Zaimon, look at that,” Farris said.
They both stared with wide eyes. Floating in the blue sky was a large set of eight wings—or rather, a building built to look like wings.
“Hmm. What did you create, Misha?” I asked.
Sasha and Misha flew through the sky and descended to where I was.
“Want to see?” Misha asked.
I nodded, then turned face to the castle demons on the ground. “Come with us. It’s what used to be the Great Castle of Causality. You should all see how the thing that once controlled you so utterly has changed.”