Violent gunshots and earthshaking explosions rang out in all directions. The footsteps of destruction. Signs of the castle’s fall. Prelude to the end, everything built up crumbling down.
The total destruction of Ratatoskr headquarters by DEM Industries. A group with the same godlike technology free of the framework of human knowledge and reason as Ratatoskr—the Realizer.
Ratatoskr obviously hadn’t opened its gates to this invading force. In fact, the base was equipped with one of the most capable defense systems in the world—a network of several layers of Realizer-powered antiaircraft weapons, and above all else, a thoroughly concealed location thanks to Invisible.
Elliot Woodman believed that the greatest defense measure was not the armed might to repel an attacking enemy, but a location that was undiscoverable in the first place—even for a key stronghold that would not so much as budge regardless of how ferocious the attack.
Ratatoskr was a secret organization, and its mission was not to protect the country, nor was it to pressure rivals with a show of force. Thus, there was no need for its headquarters to be symbolic like the castle of a feudal lord or a nation’s department of defense. In fact, conspicuousness could prove fatal for the organization.
Because of this, few people (even among those within Ratatoskr) knew the location of this base, and only airships with Invisible similarly deployed were permitted to visit it. No intelligence agency in any country had ever discovered the location of the large-scale facility. Ratatoskr’s bitter enemy, DEM Industries, should have been equally oblivious.
Yet this absolute barrier of ignorance had been broken surprisingly easily thanks to the omnipotent Demon King Beelzebub.
“It’s not that I wasn’t apprehensive they’d get to us eventually, but to think that we would be so spectacularly routed! I’d expect nothing less of Ike,” Woodman said quietly, with a slight shrug. He was a middle-aged man with blond hair mixed with gray tied back in a ponytail. Even now, pressed by crisis and danger on all sides, he maintained his usual carefree demeanor.
But this, too, was natural. Woodman was the chairperson of Rounds, Ratatoskr’s ultimate decision-making body. In other words, he was, for all intents and purposes, the head of the organization. In which case, he could not lose his head whatever fresh disaster came his way. Panic in a superior officer clouded judgment and was easily transmitted to his subordinates. Woodman firmly believed that those who sat at the top needed to keep a relaxed smile on their faces right up until the bitter end.
In fact, he had anticipated this assault from DEM Industries. If his former friend and current rival, Isaac Westcott, had gotten a hold of the omnipotent Demon King, Woodman could easily imagine that the very first thing he would seek to learn would be the location of the sealed Spirits and that of the traitor Woodman.
Thus, Woodman moved to this base, which employed the most formidable defense systems of all Ratatoskr facilities.
“You jest. Isaac has not thought that far ahead. He’s a child who can hardly wait to come brag about his new toy to you, his old friend,” said the Nordic blond who stood beside him at the ready. She stared at Woodman with beautiful blue eyes through thin wire-framed glasses.
Karen Mathers. Woodman’s secretary, and younger sister to humanity’s most powerful Wizard, Ellen Mathers. Just like Woodman, she had once been an engineer at DEM, which was why her assessment of Westcott could be so accurate.
“That might very well be,” Woodman agreed with a smile. “Ike hasn’t changed a bit. But that alone’s plenty to worry about. Think about it—he’s an immensely curious boy left to his own devices in a room full of buttons that can launch nuclear warheads.”
“That does send a shiver up my spine. The height of madness.” In contrast to her words, Karen’s expression seemed calm and collected as she dropped her gaze to the portable terminal in one hand. She tapped at it quickly, then lifted her face once more. “I’ve secured an escape route. This way.”
“Mm.” He nodded. “What about the documents?”
“Not an issue. Although if Isaac peeked at them with his toy, we would have to live with that.”
“Good. Shall we go, then? Advise all personnel to evacuate, as well.”
“Yes, sir.” Karen nodded slightly and reached under the desk to press a hidden button. The wall behind the desk opened, and an emergency escape elevator revealed itself.
“If you’ll excuse me.” Karen grabbed the handles of Woodman’s wheelchair and headed to the elevator.
The door closed as they entered, and Karen tapped at the panel built into a wall. Together with the low rumble of a motor, the elevator descended to the basement.
Before long, the vibrations stopped, and the door on the opposite side of the elevator opened. A dimly lit concrete path stretched out ahead of them.
“I have a helicopter waiting at the exit,” Karen said, as she pushed the wheelchair down the hall. “Please bear with me. It isn’t much farther.”
Before long, the clacking of her heels and the echo of the wheelchair tires stopped.
A man in a jet-black suit was blocking the corridor.
“Ah, Elliot. Been a while since we came face-to-face, hmm?” he said, his face stretching into a faint smile.
“…”
Woodman felt a faint twitch through the wheelchair handlebars. Even Karen had trouble keeping herself from reacting. The fact that she contained her distress at this man’s sudden appearance displayed a courage worthy of special mention.
“Mm-hmm. It’s been a dog’s age, Ike.” Woodman narrowed his eyes.
“Ike” had ash-blond hair burnished gold with the passage of time and eyes like stagnant pools. Should the entirety of the world’s corruption coalesce and take shape, perhaps it would look something like this. The heretical thought crossed Woodman’s mind despite its immense disrespect.
With his failing eyesight, Woodman could only perceive the other man as a blur, even with his glasses. His voice, his mannerisms, his unusual air—they all insisted to Woodman that this was indeed his formerly like-minded friend.
“I never dreamed you’d ambush me here,” Woodman said. “I had a number of other fake escape routes in place. Is this also the power of Beelzebub?”
“Ah, no.” Westcott shrugged theatrically, amused. “Unfortunately, one of your Spirits scribbled all over Beelzebub. It was, at best, instinct that led me here. I simply thought you would choose this way.”
“Mm-hmm. It really is hard to best an old friend.”
Woodman and Westcott both chuckled.
“So?” Woodman asked. “What exactly brings you here? For a simple visit, the knock on the door is rather rough.”
“Ah, apologies. It’s nothing so serious. I merely thought to bring you and Karen back to DEM,” Westcott said, as though making casual conversation. In fact, he probably intended for it to be just that. Even if it meant the destruction of an entire organization.
Woodman was not surprised or outraged, however. He grinned. “And what if I told you we’d rather not? Would you kill us?”
“Of course not!” Westcott protested. “There would be no point to me leaving Ellen behind, now, would there? I want to respect your wishes. I don’t intend to force you. But in that case…”
He shrugged, narrowed his eyes, and held out his right hand.
“Beelzebub.”
Instantly, darkness swirled above his palm and took the form of a book.
“Perhaps you’d play a little game?” he asked.
“Mm.” Woodman placed a hand on his beard with a slight groan at the sinister miasma before him.
His opponent was a Demon King. He would have preferred not to go up against it. Given the situation he was in, though, he didn’t have much of a choice.
“…Well, I guess I could,” he said finally. “You’ve never been one to listen anyway.” He sighed quietly and pushed against the armrests of his wheelchair to stand.
A hand grabbed his shoulder from behind. Karen.
“You mustn’t, Elliot,” she insisted.
“I’ll be all right, Karen,” he told her.
“But—”
Woodman removed her hand with a gentle smile and staggered forward. “…I suppose that’s two times left, then,” he murmured, too quiet for anyone else to hear, and came to stand before Westcott.
“Now, then,” he said. “Shall we begin? Come to think of it, Ike, this might be the first time I’ve ever faced you like this.”
“That would be correct, for I am weak.” Westcott laughed as though he had made a joke. “My legs shake from fear standing before you like this, Elliot.”
Woodman smiled and pulled what looked like a pair of golden dog tags out from under his shirt.
✦ ✦ ✦
The age at which a person becomes old enough to understand the goings-on around them differs from person to person, but going by their earliest memory, it would have been the age of five.
By that time, they were already all alone. This was not a theoretical issue. They weren’t talking philosophically of some abstract idea about how no one understood them. It was simply that by the time they gained an awareness of themselves as a human being, the mother, the father, the siblings—the family that should have been there, was not.
It was hard for them to put into words how it felt when they realized they had nothing that could have been called a family.
Certainly, it was no good feeling, but it was somehow different from simple sorrow or loneliness. Those were feelings that came from having a family and losing it. Those people felt sadness because they had known warmth and now grieved its loss.
However, they had been alone from the start. They could not even qualify this feeling as loneliness. It was a fact of life—children with families were the odd ones—special. They weren’t special, and that was all there was to it. If they had to say, the feeling was more akin to resignation and nihilism.
After a while, they came to be a part of a family for the first time. Of course, there was no blood relation. A couple who wanted a child took a liking to them and said they wanted to take them home.
They didn’t remember exactly what the process had been like. In fact, they had only half listened as someone from the orphanage told them about it, but the child they’d been at the time hadn’t really understood what was being said.
None of that mattered.
Theirs. They had no memories of anything but being alone, and now they had a family for the first time. It was almost too much of a shock, and they were dazed by it for a while.
A father, a mother, and a girl to be their sister. Theirs. Their very own family.
“Hello. As of today, we’re your family.”
The moment they heard those words from the mother, they cried.
“Ah. Ah. Aaah…”
Tears streamed from their eyes like a broken dam, and they felt vibrant color painting their monochromatic world.
People to love them. People they were allowed to love.
They vowed they would love these people—the father, the mother, the sister—for their entire life.