Chapter 50

According to magic theory, the mind and body were inextricable—but Aviella could have sworn that her mind left her body to traverse freely throughout the world whenever she read. She had read about an era of ancient myth, the Dark Age, the Age of Witches, and the revival period that followed. These accounts of history, retold by countless different people, occasionally highlighted how noble humans were. And sometimes revealed their foolishness. “Why do people keep making the same mistakes over and over again? So many lives have already been lost. Don’t they realize what a waste that is?” the young girl asked one day as she was reading a history book. Her grandfather, who’d been collecting books from different places, smiled awkwardly. “It’s because they believe they’re the exception to the rule. Or maybe they’ve simply forgotten the past.” “They’ve forgotten?” How was that possible? All you had to do was pick up a book to get a vivid depiction of the past. How could they forget it? The young girl looked incredibly confused, only able to see things from her own perspective. The elderly man across the table from her let out a sigh even deeper than the wrinkles etched in his face. “Memories fade, and records are oft forgotten. The long Dark Age came to an end because people had grown tired of conflict, and there was no war on the continent for almost two hundred years. But even that didn’t last forever. When a nation is destroyed by a forbidden curse, people distance themselves from such magic, but once those memories fade, they rise to the surface of history once again. Maybe next time it happens, some good can come from it.” “I don’t understand. It’s just so strange,” replied his granddaughter, clearly perplexed. The old man shrugged. He’d been around for so much longer than the young girl, but it was impossible to convey everything he’d learned to her. This was how people’s memories and emotions gradually faded away. Every time somebody died, their unique perspectives were lost as well. For a moment, countless memories flickered in the old man’s eyes. However, he kept them at bay with a gentle smile and spoke instead. “It’s similar to experiencing something sad or painful. It would be hard to bear it if those memories always remained vivid, wouldn’t it? That’s why people’s memories fade, even though they don’t forget what happened.” The girl’s brown eyes widened. Even she could identify with what he was saying. The old man smiled, then continued making his point. “That applies on a larger scale as well. No matter how horrific certain events or wars may have been, they tend to be forgotten over time, even if some recollection of them remains. As the generations go by, the number of people unfamiliar with such events rises, and history is relegated to written records. That’s when people find themselves repeating the mistakes of the past. They’re oblivious to the pain that people endured, and even if they hear about past events, it doesn’t sink in properly. That’s just human nature.” Humans make the same mistakes over and over again as they inch their way forward. When you looked at it from a broader perspective, this state of affairs was as infuriating as a child’s game. But from an individual standpoint, it was simply the way of the world. The old man knew this, yet it seemed the girl was still too young to come to terms with the idea. When he saw her dissatisfied expression, he stood up, fetched a book from the corner of the room, and offered it to his granddaughter. “If you feel this aspect of human nature is past salvation, you should read books. You should write books, too. That way, you can keep yourself in check and keep things in people’s memories, even the sad aspects of the past that everyone tends to forget…” She accepted the book with both hands. Strangely, it had no title. This puzzled her, but the feel of its red leather that fit so comfortably in her hands made her stop caring. The girl traced the decorations embedded into the book’s cover with her fingers as she looked up at her grandfather. “If I do that, will people stop repeating the same mistakes?” Aviella never received an answer to that question—a fact she remembered to this day. White light flashed beyond Shizuku’s obscured field of vision. It didn’t reach where Shizuku was sitting, but it wasn’t hard to tell that something had changed. She felt anxious, shaken by the desire to know what was happening around her. At that moment, however, the spell configuration that was supposed to be in front of her faded, and a man’s voice reprimanded her. “Stop. Stay calm. Our shared consciousness is coming apart.” He was urging her to do what had to be done. Shizuku stifled her agitation and told him what to do with the next section. “Flip the 824th sequence around. It needs to intersect with the 1,044th sequence three times.” “Got it.” This was what she needed to be doing right now. She needed to focus on the task at hand. If her concentration wavered, she’d lose sight of the things she was able to see. Shizuku released the breath she’d been holding, then inhaled deeply. “Okay. Next.” “The 832nd sequence. Use the north-south boundary line as its axis of symmetry.” “Okay.” She bit her lip tightly, putting her whole mind to the task at hand. Her consciousness drifted through a space where nothing else was visible, then once more descended into the darkness where the spell was lit up. A man wielding a sword suddenly stepped right in front of Aviella. She turned her left hand toward the sharp tip of his sword, creating a barrier to parry the blow. The barrier was thin, and the witch hadn’t recited an incantation, but it was still powerful enough to deflect the point of the man’s sword. As he stumbled backward, the witch hit him with her right hand. “Gah…!” Her palm rammed a burst of compressed air into his chest. For a moment, he coughed up some blood and lost his balance. She immediately went to deliver the finishing blow, but an onslaught of fire arrows came flying toward her from a different angle. A team of mages had unleashed dozens of fire arrows. Aviella narrowed her eyes as the barrage rained down on her, offering no means of escape, then snapped her fingers. In the blink of an eye, the flames vanished into thin air. “That’s some impressive firepower. It’s just a shame cooperation isn’t your forte.” The individuals who’d gathered in the hall were all skilled in their own right. One by one, they executed their attacks with sharp movements. Unsurprisingly, though, it seemed like they’d never teamed up against a single opponent before. Aviella utilized her powerful barriers to block the majority of their attacks, targeting them the moment they hesitated, gradually defeating the front line. She smiled at her opponent, who was attempting to brandish his sword despite the damage to his lungs. “Not backing down, huh? That’s the spirit.” She dodged the man’s lackluster strike. In situations like this, she didn’t even need to use a barrier. Instead, she plunged her right hand into the unsteady man’s side, twisting it through an opening in his light armor and into his flesh. Once her hand was wrist-deep, she lit up a spell from her fingertips. With a muffled boom, the man was destroyed from the inside out. When Aviella pulled her pale hand out again, fresh blood spurted from the open wound. “…Agh.” The man let out a small groan, then fell face down into a pool of his own blood. Aviella stared at his motionless body, then cautiously proceeded ahead, trying not to step on his corpse. The witch took on multiple opponents single-handedly, but her movements weren’t particularly swift. In fact, it was as though she was performing a slow and graceful dance. She neutralized their attacks with minimal effort, using the brief openings that came her way to deal powerful blows. She wasn’t actively attacking anyone. She seemed to get her enjoyment from fighting back. Eleven people were already incapacitated, some of them dead, and it had only been ten minutes since the witch appeared. Harve held his breath as he reinforced the barrier protecting Erik and Shizuku. “We’re in trouble… She’s too strong.” Harve had been trying to create an opening by distracting her with magic, but the witch hadn’t sustained a single injury. As far as Harve could tell from the outside, the spell overwriting process was only seventy percent complete. Noticing his heart pounding with anxiety, Harve told himself to calm down. He began to recite another incantation, attempting to create more fire arrows. At that moment, Kaito, who’d been observing the witch from a distance, came over to him. Without taking his eyes off Aviella, he whispered something in Harve’s ear. “Can you neutralize the protective barrier the witch is using? I could kill her if not for that.” “Kill her…? Are you serious?” “Obviously. She’s just a mage, at the end of the day. Without that barrier in the way, I could bring her down before she casts any spells.” There was a smile on the boy’s face. It didn’t sound like he was bluffing. Harve took another look at Aviella, who was in there fighting someone. “Neutralizing her protective barrier, huh…? Honestly, that’d be a challenge. She created it without reciting an incantation, so it’s pretty much impenetrable, not to mention powerful. It’s an oval, taller than it is wide, centered around her hands and shielding her entire body.” In essence, Aviella had a large magical shield. So far, no attack had been able to break through it. Harve thought things over for a moment, then made one additional comment. “…But from what I just saw, she can’t formulate an attack spell and maintain the barrier with the same hand. When she attacks, the barrier disappears. You could aim for that moment, but it’s hard to judge—” “Got it.” Kaito turned his back to Harve, who’d apparently exhausted his usefulness, and began walking toward Aviella. The mage hurriedly tried to stop him. “W-wait. It’s pointless if you can’t defend yourself against her attacks!” “I’ll dodge them.” “Don’t be ridiculous. What if she casts an area-wide spell?” The young mage placed a hand on Kaito’s shoulder, trying to warn him. The boy tutted aggressively and turned around, looking up at Harve with his face tilted to one side. “So what? Weaklings like you should keep their opinions to themselves.” “Weak? I’m a royal court mage… Oh, never mind. I’ll cast a barrier for you. Just give me a moment.” The area that the witch’s protective barrier didn’t cover also happened to be the spot that lit up with the power from her spells. If Kaito was unable to completely avoid her attacks, Harve could still use a barrier to lessen their impact, allowing the boy to keep fighting. Kaito glanced suspiciously at Harve, who’d begun chanting facing him. Viewed as a heretic by his fellow mercenaries, the boy rarely worked with other people. No one had ever cast support magic on him before. When Harve finished his incantation, he lowered his voice and asked Kaito a question. “By the way—can you see magical energy?” “No,” replied Kaito. “But I can roughly tell where it is. I pay attention to where people are looking and stuff.” “I see…” Harve had been concerned that Kaito wouldn’t be able to sense magic on any level, but he relaxed his furrowed brow a little. The ability to see magical energy was a matter of life and death when you were fighting a mage. Erik was showing the magic formation to Shizuku, but it wasn’t as if he’d granted her the ability to see magical energy. He was only sharing what he could see with her. Physical touch and intense focus were required for this to succeed, though, making it impossible to reveal magical power to somebody during close combat. As a result, the swordsmen who couldn’t see magical energy had ended up attacking areas that were actually covered by the witch’s barrier. You needed considerable experience fighting mages to compensate for this disadvantage. Harve glanced at Aviella. At that moment, she sent another swordsman flying, causing him to crash into a wall. This sight made Harve hold his breath. Standing by his side, Kaito spoke up, his tone brusque. “Ready? I’m gonna go in.” “Oh yes. I’ll provide you with as much support as I can. Be careful.” “Don’t bother—you’ll just be in the way.” With that curt response, the boy began pacing ahead. Kaito’s treacherous level of confidence made Harve frown. Then he began reciting another chant, directing his spell at the witch. Lars leaped dramatically to the side to avoid the magic attack. The spell Elzard unleashed sent sparks flying riotously through the air as it made contact with the stone floor. With a dull crashing sound, a large hole opened up below where Lars had just been standing. The blast had even penetrated the floor below, and through the flying stone fragments, the king glanced at the damage out of the corner of his eye. “Try not to create too many holes. You wouldn’t want to destroy the castle. What will you do if it collapses in the middle of our battle?” “I could build as many of these castles as I wanted,” Elzard replied. “So you’ll put up an extension, huh? If you go too high, it’ll topple over.” The king’s response was so easygoing, it was hard to believe he was talking to a high-ranking demon. Lars’s sword was the natural enemy of both mages and demons, and he simply shrugged in the face of Elzard’s power. In fact, he’d nullified most of Elzard’s attacks with the royal sword and skillfully dodged the rest. “…That sword is more bothersome than I anticipated.” Elzard had known of Akashia’s powers in theory, but facing it firsthand was truly infuriating. He scowled in frustration, then began constructing a new spell that would spread out like a net, preventing Lars from dodging it. He aimed it toward Lars, then unleashed his attack. When the king realized what his opponent was trying to do, he didn’t retreat—in fact, he stepped straight into the configuration. “Whoops.” With this casual remark, Lars used Akashia to sever the key points of the spell before it could fully expand. Elzard felt a ripple of irritation at how effortlessly the human had nullified his attack. When Lars saw the look on Elzard’s face, he laughed with amusement. “What’s the matter? Did I make you angry?” “…Why do you think a lowly human like you could anger me?” “You having fun, then?” the king asked casually, then glanced at his left arm. He hadn’t fully neutralized the spell configuration, and it had left a cut in his skin that was beginning to bead with blood. The sight of the injury brought a twisted smile to Lars’s face. The king’s perplexing behavior filled Elzard with grating discomfort, but it wasn’t enough to shake him. “I feel nothing. Just boredom,” he spat as he constructed a new spell. “Is that right? That’s a shame.” Lars contemptuously narrowed his blue eyes, fixing his gaze on a spot behind Elzard. For a short while, there was silence. Wondering what he was looking at, the demon glanced over his shoulder, his caution of the king never wavering. It was the empty throne with the sword leaning against it. Elzard had only shifted his attention toward it for less than a second—but the next thing he knew, he was jumping back, trying to evade the sword that had been thrust his way. “—!” He hadn’t let his mind wander, yet if he’d taken just a moment longer, he would have been fatally wounded. In a flash, the king had closed the few paces between himself and Elzard. Lars laughed as he advanced even further, his low voice skimming over the throne. “That sword belonged to one of my subordinates. You wouldn’t have killed him for no reason, right? So come on, demon. Tell me how much fun you’re having.” As the king swung his sword down toward him, Elzard instinctively attempted to protect himself with a barrier—but Akashia negated his power, allowing the sword to come dangerously close. This was the sword that annulled and dispersed all power. The blade, once bestowed on Farsas by a nonhuman entity, flashed straight toward him. Seeing this…Elzard shuddered for the first time in his entire life. “…!” As the tip of the blade threatened to pierce his skin, he channeled his power into a simple spell. He didn’t bother waiting to see how it turned out, however, but instead flew up into the air to escape the sword’s reach. The sound of the stone floor shattering reverberated through the air. His shoulders heaving as he breathed, Elzard looked down at the dust below. Anger began to surge within him. He’d fled from a lowly human. When this realization finally sank in, it filled him with an inescapable feeling of humiliation. As Elzard glared at the space beneath him, the king emerged from the swirling dust. Lars looked at his blood-soaked left shoulder and sighed. Then he looked up at Elzard with a mocking smile that didn’t contain the slightest trace of fear. “What’s the matter? You’re not gonna float up there forever, are you?” “…Shut your mouth, cretin.” What value did humans have? There was nothing interesting about them. They’d never live up to expectations. “You’ll all die soon enough.” They were ephemeral beings that disappeared almost as quickly as they appeared. “You won’t leave anything behind.” Still floating in the air, Elzard constructed a magic array. It was a large-scale spell composed of layers of attack magic that would destroy anything it came into contact with. There was no need to rise to any provocation. He’d simply eliminate everything in his path, as if he were cutting down grass. And so, without any warning, Elzard unleashed his spell. There was a brief flash of light, accompanied by a thunderous roar that shook the castle itself. The explosive power triggered a blast so powerful that its effects were felt even outside the windows of the castle—and by the time it was over, nothing but empty silence hung in the air. “—The preliminary configurations for the teleportation gate are complete. We can begin transporting the entire army whenever necessary.” Leuticia was on her horse when she received this report from Truce, the chief royal mage. She looked up at the dark clouds looming over Helginis. Apparently, the army of demonic spirits had already swelled to two hundred thousand strong. For the time being, they were staying within the borders of what had been Helginis, but once they were unleashed, they had the potential to burn the entire continent to the ground. The allied nations needed to strike while they still had a chance, no matter what it took. Yet there had never been a war against demons before. Did they really stand a chance of winning? “…They say this is unprecedented,” Leuticia muttered, her beautiful face twisting into a bitter grimace, “but I wonder if any similar events were erased from history.” A similar battle might have occurred as part of a scrapped test, but even if it had, such knowledge no longer existed and was irrelevant. Maybe Aviella had become a witch precisely because she’d acquired that knowledge. Possessing secret knowledge had its pros and cons. Being familiar with Farsas’s many sealed records, Leuticia knew that better than anyone. She glanced around from atop her horse. The armies of four of the twelve countries that had declared war—a total of one hundred and fifty thousand troops—had assembled at a fort in the north of Farsas, but it was up to Leuticia to decide when to teleport these armies to the mountains of Helginis. The Farsasian princess placed her delicate fingers on her chin and thought things over. “Truce.” “Yes!” “Can I entrust you with the task of opening the teleportation gate?” “Of course… Is there a problem?” The competence of a nation’s mages had a significant effect on how quickly their large army could be moved to a place near its destination. Firstly, obtaining the relevant coordinates for large-scale teleportation across national borders was a challenge in and of itself. Secondly, the farther away the destination was, the harder it became to create a large gate and keep it open for an extended period of time. Not even a royal court mage could keep a large gate open in a faraway location for long without any help. As such, most countries would get several mages to work on these spells together. Farsas, however, was the exception to this rule. It had become customary for Leuticia to open teleportation gates when she was around. Yet she was implying that she wasn’t going to do it this time. When her concerned subordinate asked whether there was a problem, Leuticia shook her head. “Erik has been drawing on a considerable amount of magical energy for some time now. Knowing him, he’s probably up to something. If I were to cast a large spell right now, it might interfere with whatever he’s doing.” “Really? Could he be trying to destroy the core of the barrier?” “Who knows… In any case, I’m going to leave my power in his hands for as long as I can.” Truce expressed his acknowledgement to the princess and left. Once he’d gone, Leuticia calculated how much time had passed in her head. It had been more than forty minutes since Erik had begun to draw out a constant stream of magical energy. No spell would take that long to assemble. What in the world was Erik doing, and when would he be done? Leuticia furrowed her beautifully shaped eyebrows as she mulled things over. It didn’t take long for her cool, composed expression to return, however. Without delay, she summoned a military officer and had him tell the generals of each nation to begin their advance. Strength was simple—at least, that was what Kaito had always believed. Strength was very straightforward, allowing no room for unnecessary thoughts. On the battlefield, strength was the only thing that determined the outcome. Those who didn’t match up would die. That was all there was to it. Concepts like good and evil didn’t exist, so there was no way for inexplicable worry to interfere. The boy gazed attentively at the witch’s elegant hands. Having originally been white, they were now stained with blood, intensifying her ominous aura. To those fighting against her, she had become the embodiment of death itself. More than half of the people who’d been there at the start of the battle were now lying on the floor, and the large hall was thick with the stench of blood and guts. As despair slowly began to rear its head, Aviella glanced around at her opponents, who were all keeping a fixed distance away from her, then cocked her head to one side like a little girl. “What’s wrong? Have you given up already?” Of course they hadn’t, but after witnessing her overwhelming advantage in raw power, they couldn’t keep attacking her at random. As the survivors searched for a way to win—that they were never going to find—Kaito weaved his way through them, carefully closing in on the witch. His eyes were focused solely on her hands. He loved that moment when people took their final breath. He wasn’t a product of his surroundings. He remembered his mother and father being ordinary people, although they’d died when he was very young. After their deaths, Kaito had been left with very little—just a small inheritance and a sword said to have been granted to his great-grandfather as a reward for his military exploits. At the age of eleven, he’d left home with that sword in hand. Looking back, he must have already known that he was different from other children. He liked killing. He just didn’t know why. It was merely a preference of his—something that fell short of being an emotion he could put into words. The moment he tried to, it became as elusive as mist. Even when he managed to respond to people’s questions, his replies never aligned with his feelings. He’d answer when somebody asked him why he was the way he was, but as soon as the words left his lips, they took on a different form. It left him with a slight sense of discomfort. But Kaito himself was oblivious to the unease he was experiencing…and that was how he’d ended up changing a little. The corners of the witch’s red lips turned upward into a smile. Although the humans standing up to her displayed a willingness to fight, they couldn’t find a reason to bet everything on such a hopeless battle. They readied their weapons and recited their incantations, but they couldn’t bring themselves to go any further. Watching them, Aviella derisively raised her eyebrows. “If you’re not going to come at me, I may as well just kill those two.” “Wh…?!” The witch was pointing at Erik and Shizuku, who were sitting inside the magic circle. When her opponents realized that she was singling out the two people they couldn’t afford to lose, their faces fell. A spell began to light up at the tip of the witch’s bloodstained finger, and at that moment, three men rushed at her with their blades. “Raaaah!” “Yes, that’s the spirit. Come at me.” As Aviella spoke, she directed the spell at the forehead of the first man who’d swung his sword at her. One of the mages created a barrier in front of the swordsman as soon as he saw it, but the bullet-like cluster of magical power easily penetrated the barrier, piercing a hole between the man’s eyebrows. The tall swordsman bent backward and fell onto the ground with a soft thud. Meanwhile, the man who’d swung at Aviella from the left had found his sword blocked by a barrier, preventing him from attacking the witch. In the time it took him to withdraw his sword, a ferocious shockwave sent him flying. The mages behind him were also caught up in the impact, and the three grown men slammed into the ground like lifeless puppets. The witch looked at the third man, who was no longer able to move, and smiled. She was holding him by the throat, her slender left arm shrouded in magical power. The sword slipped out of the unconscious man’s hand and clattered to the floor, and a moment later, his body collapsed on top of it. Five men had been rendered powerless in the blink of an eye. The survivors were speechless, yet they couldn’t stop attacking. If they backed down now, the two people overwriting the spell would be killed. And even if that wasn’t an issue, there were so few of them left that there was no way out. “Fire!” the mages yelled in unison. Twenty-two balls of light conjured by incantations closed in on Aviella from all directions. It was an all-out attack that left no opportunity for escape—but with a snap of Aviella’s fingers, the orbs were dragged toward a certain point, causing them to collide with one another. All of the balls of light burst before they even reached the witch, causing white sparks to light up the hall. With nowhere left to go, the residual energy swirled around and shook the air violently. “…It…didn’t work?” The murmured words echoed off the stone floor, but it was impossible to tell who it had come from. Aviella lifted her right palm and began to formulate a magic configuration. Before long, an unavoidable, wide-ranging spell materialized. The mages who saw it sensed their deaths were near—but suddenly, a blade appeared. The flash of silver emerged from out of nowhere, its appearance so spontaneous that it took the mages a moment to realize that there was a person holding it by the hilt. It was thrust upward from directly below the witch’s palm. With the swiftness of an arrow, it pierced Aviella’s right hand. “…! …Huh?” The witch’s eyes widened as she looked at the blade that had impaled her palm. A feeble breath escaped her throat. The pain and shock of the attack caused her almost complete spell to collapse, and for the first time, a flicker of concern crossed her expression. Aviella turned her head, trying to see who’d injured her. But Kaito hadn’t stopped there. From the beginning, he hadn’t paused for a single second. Everyone around him had only assumed he’d stopped because they couldn’t comprehend what was unfolding before them. With one hand still holding the dagger lodged in the witch’s hand, he swung his slender longsword across her body. The blade sank into the top of Aviella’s right arm, slicing up toward her shoulder in a single motion and splattering her own blood across her white cheek. Kaito had wounded the witch. Everyone must have felt that their first chance at victory had finally arrived. When a mage was injured, the pain could disturb their concentration, making it difficult for them to conjure complex spells. Now was the time to strike. A few people began reciting incantations. The injuries the swordsmen had suffered made them unsteady on their feet, but they charged ahead nonetheless. Kaito, however, ignored what everyone else was doing and thrust the dagger he’d pulled from her hand toward Aviella’s chest. It was a small movement—the most efficient path he could take. A display of pure strength he’d executed hundreds of times before. Kaito was racing down a path that could only culminate in death…but at the end of that road, he found himself looking into the witch’s eyes. In that moment, he froze. An invisible shockwave slammed directly into Kaito’s body. If it wasn’t for the barrier Harve had cast, it would have gone all the way through his body. The small boy was effortlessly lifted into the air and slammed onto the stone floor beneath him. The consequences were horrific. His right arm contorted out of shape, and his dagger snapped at the base, leaving it without a blade. He shifted his body slightly, attempting to sit up, but even this slight movement caused intense pain to course through his body. “Gahhh…! Agh…” He could feel blood and stomach acid in the back of his throat. It seemed like not just his arms but some of his organs were also messed up. His body was such a wreck that it didn’t even feel like his own. He couldn’t fight anymore. In fact, his injuries were so serious they could have killed him. He couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly his demise had come. A thought flashed through his mind: I’m sure I could’ve killed her. He could have done it, if he hadn’t looked into the witch’s eyes. If he’d been the person he was before he’d changed. Kaito had faltered. He’d hesitated to attack her for a split second. The witch had caused the deaths of so many more people than he ever had. Yet in her eyes, he’d seen compassion, loneliness, arrogance, sorrow, and even a faint glimmer of hope. In that calm gaze, he’d seen a mix of conflicting emotions—just like those that Shizuku had revealed to him. As Kaito lay on the ground, he heard someone scream. Another person collapsed. The only things that reached him were the sounds of defeat. Drenched in blood and cynicism, the boy closed his eyes. “This is why…I…hate you,” he murmured. “Sorry, Kaito.” The feeble voice that echoed from directly above him was tinged with remorse. A woman stroked his forehead with her hand. She wrapped her small, warm, helpless hands around his head for a moment, then silently pulled away. In their wake, he felt a gentle breeze. He could sense someone standing beside him. He could tell who it was without having to look. Kaito grimaced as he strained his raspy voice. “What are you going to do…?” “Nothing. But…I’m ready.” There was no hesitation in her voice. Leaving nothing but those words behind, the presence drifted away, and the boy’s eyes closed as he fell silent. “Swap the 1,265th sequence with the 1,272nd. Make sure they’re the same height.” “…Okay.” It had been nearly fifty minutes since they began overwriting the spell, and Erik was starting to take longer to reply. He was also taking longer to ask Shizuku to continue. This must be a sign that they were almost finished. The differences between the two spells, which were negligible in the beginning, had widened the further they’d progressed. Shizuku checked that the spell structure visible in the darkness was already almost identical to the one depicted in the book. As she was waiting, Erik called out, “Next.” “Give the 1,213th sequence point symmetry. Do the same with the 1,290th.” “Got it.” The overwriting process was coming to an end. This was obvious to Shizuku, who could see what it would look like, but she also knew that at their current rate, they weren’t going to finish in time. There seemed to be fewer and fewer people around them. Something was off. Their comrades couldn’t hold off the witch much longer. Still, the entire fight had been nothing more than a passing fancy for Aviella. She could have easily opted to kill Shizuku and Erik right at the start, but instead, she’d chosen to test the people. Everyone was being tested. What exactly was she testing, though? Their capacity to become ruler, or how ready they were to die? These two concepts were similar, yet worlds apart. Both must be correct, and both must be incorrect. In the darkness, Shizuku let out a small sigh. What did the witch want? What was Aviella hoping for? It would be arrogant for Shizuku to say she knew the answers to those questions. “…Done. What’s next?” “Get rid of every sequence between the 1,314th and the 1,376th.” “Got it.” “Can I keep going?” Anyone could resolve themself to die. Kaito had taken that stance when he’d been criticizing Shizuku, but unsurprisingly, she thought he was wrong. It wasn’t death that people prepared themselves for. They prepared themselves to fight. They might see death approaching, but dying itself wasn’t their goal. She had never wished for death. She didn’t want to die. She simply had things she wasn’t prepared to compromise on. “Anything else? Go ahead.” “Okay, ready? Connect the 1,389th sequence with the 4th, 58th, 133rd, and 742nd sequences. Split off the 1,498th sequence from the point where it intersects with the 882nd, and link it to the 992nd and 1,174th. Lastly, flip the 1,500th sequence around… Should I say that one more time?” “It’s fine. I remember it.” His predictable response made Shizuku smile. She released all the tension from her body and placed her hand on Erik’s arm, which was supporting her. “That’s everything. You’ve got this.” “…W-wait.” Erik tried to grab her arm, but Shizuku slipped through his fingers. She stood in front of the man, who was unable to move. This was likely the end. Shizuku opened her eyes. Their shared consciousness had vanished, and reality returned. The connection between Erik and her was broken, and they once again became separate individuals. Light flooded in. Her field of vision was white. As she squinted in the face of the brightness, the world spread out before her eyes. It was a world where blood and despair melded and flowed together. The scene in front of her was colored by people’s feelings and determination. “If we lose here—” If Aviella won, Shizuku knew all that awaited her was death. Her short life would come to an end in a faraway corner of another world that her family didn’t even know about. But if she managed to defeat Aviella through sheer luck, there’d be no going back to her old, peaceful world. Even if she did find a way home, she couldn’t bring herself to return after killing another person. Some people might call her stubborn. Perhaps some would say she was foolish. But even so, she couldn’t give in. She’d chosen not to surrender. “Shizuku!” “Don’t worry. I’ll buy us some time.” A hand reached out toward her. Shizuku was standing outside of its reach, but she still felt the urge to touch it one more time. Memories of her journey so far came rushing back. It used to feel like she could take his hand whenever she wanted, but she’d realized long ago that wasn’t the case. After all, on countless occasions, she’d resolved herself to die. Maybe this would be the true final destination of their journey. Shizuku took another step back and turned back toward the witch. Every person who ventured into her castle was a challenger. Shizuku was no exception. She was going to throw down the gauntlet and fight. Only determined individuals who demonstrated their strength could reshape the continent. And they could only do that once they’d killed the witch. “Let’s go, Mea.” “As you wish, Master.” Shizuku didn’t want to kill anybody—but that was the answer, whether she liked it or not. She needed to find the resolve to face the death of her opponent. Shizuku moved forward, her footsteps heavy. Clutching the cursed artifact that had bound the continent with its spell for so long, she took out her dagger. “Oh? You’re going to fight, too?” Aviella’s eyes landed on Shizuku, and she smiled. The witch’s crimson robe masked the bloodstains, but it couldn’t hide the evidence of her other injuries. When Shizuku saw the blood stuck in her silver hair and the whiteness of her cheeks, she gulped. This woman’s a witch. There’s no way I can beat someone like her. Shizuku knew this, but she still had no intention of fleeing. Without looking over her shoulder, she calculated her distance from the magic circle. At this stage, only Aviella, Shizuku, Erik, and two other mages were still able to move. One of the remaining mages was Harve, who was creating barriers and keeping Aviella distracted to protect the other mage while he healed the injured. The witch had been watching him calmly, but she’d shifted her gaze to Shizuku as she made her way toward her. It was immediately obvious that Shizuku in her cloak was neither a swordsman nor a mage, and Aviella greeted her with a smile. “We meet again, little girl.” “Yes. If it wasn’t for your goodwill, I wouldn’t have made it this far.” “Are you planning to challenge me with your level of power? How reckless.” “I’m well aware of how reckless it is. But first, I have a request for you.” Shizuku stopped a few steps away from Aviella and looked up at the witch, who was taller than her. She looked into Aviella’s clear brown eyes. Even before she could understand why, she knew she was right. The witch cocked her head slightly. “A request? What might that be? A plea for mercy?” “No, it’s not,” said Shizuku. “Where is the book? If we win, I want you to give it to us.” Anyone else who heard Shizuku speak would have thought she was being arrogant and oblivious to the perils of her situation. Most of the people who’d assembled in the hall had been struck down, leaving them dead or incapacitated, yet the weakest of them all was already demanding a reward in the event of her victory. Even Harve, who was listening from nearby, was left speechless for a moment. He opened his mouth, hoping to bring Shizuku’s heedless behavior to a stop. In the end, however, he swallowed his words before they left his mouth. He and his allies had already been driven into a corner with no way out. The least he could do was respect whatever idea Shizuku had. The light in Shizuku’s eyes suggested that she wasn’t joking. Aviella must have known that, too. The witch looked down at her own empty hands. “I see. You want to get your hands on that book… What for? Do you want to become queen? Or do you want to know the truth?” The question was like sweet-smelling poison. Shizuku’s expression didn’t change, though. She’d already decided upon her answer, but she ruminated on it anyway. She had the option of telling a lie that the witch would like, then taking the book as she had before. There was also the option of feigning greed, getting the witch to drop her guard, and then destroying it. Yet Shizuku knew these were the answers Aviella was looking for. They wouldn’t be enough to make her act. Most importantly, Shizuku didn’t want to compromise her principles at that moment. She came straight out with her answer. “I’m a scholar, too. I’m interested in the truth. That said, I want that book for a different reason.” “Oh? And what might that be?” “I don’t want you, or anyone else who wants to rule this continent, to take advantage of it.” Certain events that had undeniably happened—the death of the princess who’d loved the god of the lake, wars erased from history, the untold torment of the first queen—had been hidden away. Shizuku didn’t want anybody to take advantage of the secret knowledge or power in that book. The two books in the possession of Aviella and Shizuku respectively had originally been written so nonhuman beings could observe what humanity was doing. They couldn’t allow forbidden curses sealed away with a power that surpassed the laws of magic to be exposed. They’d just feel helpless, like puppets forced to dance on the palms of those watching them. Aviella’s expression suddenly shifted. Perhaps she’d understood what Shizuku was trying to say. She didn’t wipe the smile off her face, but she dropped the testing, taunting look she’d been giving Shizuku. She lowered her gaze and laughed, serenity in her eyes. “But if we lose this book, some facts will be forgotten forever. Events that actually occurred will be dismissed as if they never happened. Are you really okay with that? The way things are right now, lessons gained through fierce battles are forgotten, and mistakes paid for with countless casualties mean nothing. Humans and their history should possess far greater potential. They should be able to choose the right path without any hesitation. They should reflect on the past instead of basking in the comfort of the present. Otherwise, they’ll just continue to make the same mistakes.” Once memories fade, people end up treading the same path over and over again. They end up disorientated and bewildered, unaware that someone else once bled in the same exact spot. The witch was treating people’s ignorance as a form of laziness, but Shizuku responded in a calm and steady voice. “We might have forgotten most of the past, but not everything is lost, is it? I know that people have the ability to pass down knowledge over thousands of years. It’s the willpower of human beings that makes something like that possible, and that’s why it feels so valuable to me. “That book, however, is different. It observes people indiscriminately, records their actions, and conveys that information to others. I can’t approve of that sort of interference. I’m going to defeat you and get rid of it.” “…I see.” The witch was likely unaware of the interlopers’ existence. She allowed her gaze to wander, seemingly thinking about something. Her thoughts and desires were like silhouettes—you could only grasp their outlines, unable to see what was inside. There was still part of her that Shizuku could understand, though. From the moment Shizuku heard the witch had declared war, from the moment she’d looked into her eyes, she’d come to one conclusion. “Memories and records are passed down because of human willpower—but having that knowledge doesn’t guarantee that everybody can make the right choices. History can still repeat itself, even if everybody’s seen graphic accounts of similar events that occurred in the past. I’m sure you realize…that knowledge of the past doesn’t serve as enough of a deterrent.” The witch knew that knowledge of the past wouldn’t completely deter people, but she’d asked if Shizuku wanted to learn it nonetheless. She’d urged Shizuku not to turn her back on the teachings of history. The witch was a mere shadow of who she’d once been—a young girl who knew about history and was worried about the present. She knew that the mistakes of history repeated themselves far too often, and this disillusionment had led her to where she was now. “You understand this, which is why you became a witch. You reignited people’s past fears and made sure the entire continent was aware of it. When a witch appears using forbidden curses to commit atrocities and people hunt her down, it reminds them of the horror of such spells. They reaffirm the fact that they can destroy those who use them and, eventually, people will learn to avoid them… You brought challengers here so they could kill you, didn’t you?” The Dark Age was ancient history. The Age of Witches had been relegated to the realms of fairy tales. The continent, which once fought off the return of the darkness, would eventually forget what it was afraid of—unless, that is, they experienced huge losses. They needed a reminder of the horror of forbidden curses. The first time Shizuku had felt something was off was when she looked into Aviella’s eyes. The witch’s gaze suggested she treasured humanity, even though she’d declared war on the continent. Shizuku found this puzzling. That sense of discord became clearer once she entered the castle. Why would somebody with the power to defeat an army go through the trouble of assembling challengers? That was also something that puzzled her. The events that had just played out in front of her were equally strange. Aviella hadn’t tried to kill Shizuku and Erik first, even though she knew the significance of what they were trying to do. She was hoping someone would defeat her. Aviella would use death and her infamy to spread a new sense of fear throughout the continent and to show the people how stupid they’d been. That was the ending the Seventh Witch had chosen for herself. Shizuku’s voice echoed hollowly around the room. Aviella heard her, but she just smiled wryly, making no effort to refute Shizuku’s claims. She shifted her clear gaze toward the woman before her, ready to accept any outcome. “What a funny thing to say… You have quite the imagination. People who are constantly buried in their books tend to be like that. Still, I have no intention of letting you kill me.” “Of course. I know that. I could never be the successor you’re looking for. I’m not strong enough. You’re using this trial to pick someone with strength and determination, right? Someone heroic who’d become a good ruler.” “You’re wrong there, too.” Aviella didn’t elaborate further. Instead, she looked down at her hands, showing a slightly childish side to herself. She fixed her gaze on her blood-soaked left hand, and a red book appeared in her grip. There was no title on the cover. Aviella looked off into the distance, thinking about the countless paths that had converged in this one moment. But that only lasted for an instant. Looking back at Shizuku, who’d refused to avert her gaze, she gave a dignified smile. “Well then, here’s the book you wanted. If you manage to defeat me, it’s all yours. Don’t hold back—give me everything you’ve got. I’ll leave your corpse next to the others.” “With my level of strength, holding back isn’t an option. I’ll give this challenge my all. I refuse to accept your way of doing things, no matter what your perspective might be.” Shizuku held the short dagger she was clutching in front of her. That single blade didn’t give her much confidence, especially given that she was up against a witch. She’d never expected to aim such a weapon at someone, yet she felt no hint of regret. She held her breath and looked at her opponent. She counted down inside her head, then took her first step, beginning the clash between power and willpower. “It seems like she can only cast spells without incantations if she does it through her hands.” This piece of advice had come from Mea, who’d been observing the battle unfold inside the hall while Shizuku was overwriting the spell. In fact, in the battle so far, Aviella hadn’t used any incantations at all. Since it was a close-combat situation, chanting could create treacherous opportunities for her opponents to take advantage of. Still, the fact that she could hold her own against multiple opponents without using incantations only showed how fearsome the witch truly was. After hearing Mea’s assessment, Shizuku thought to herself for a few seconds, then nodded. “Okay. In that case…let’s prevent her from using one of her hands.” Shizuku had expressed her desire for the book, and just as planned, the red book now occupied Aviella’s left hand. Shizuku paid attention to the book-shaped cursed artifact that she was holding beneath her cape. Since Shizuku wasn’t a mage, not being able to use one of her hands wasn’t much of a hindrance to her. That said, their levels of power were still worlds apart, regardless of whether one of Aviella’s hands was incapacitated or not. Shizuku wasn’t optimistic enough to believe that sheer willpower alone could bridge that gap. As she took a step forward, she whispered to Mea, perched on her shoulder. “…We’ll do what we planned.” “Okay.” Her mouth felt dry. Her fingers trembled as she clutched the dagger. Her shaking was half physiological, so there was nothing she could do about it. Shizuku met Aviella’s gaze. The witch looked at her with a hint of sadness. Maybe she was thinking about how reckless her challenger was. Still, no amount of sentimentality was going to affect how she acted. Aviella raised her right hand and began to formulate a spell. She launched a projectile of light toward Shizuku in an apparent attempt to distract her and gauge her strength. The burst of light was fired directly at Shizuku’s heart, but Mea created a diagonal barrier to deflect it. Aviella’s eyes widened in surprise as the projectile shattered the stone floor just behind Shizuku. “Oh. Magic implements and an assistant demon?” the witch said, sounding impressed. But her comment made Shizuku tense. Shizuku wasn’t actually a fighter, so she’d been equipped with numerous magic implements to protect herself. They were supposed to counteract magic attacks from within a specific distance, but they weren’t enough to completely nullify the witch’s attacks. To make up for this, Mea had deflected the weakened attack. She hadn’t shielded the attack head-on out of fear that it would pierce through the barrier. Having immediately deduced their strategy, Aviella smiled scathingly. “You’re not holding your weapon properly. You’re not the kind of person who should be fighting on the front line.” “That’s for me to decide,” retorted Shizuku. With that, she suddenly dashed forward. In the blink of an eye, she closed the gap between them and swung her dagger toward the witch—but just before the blade could come into contact with Aviella, Shizuku pulled it back. She immediately leaped back to dodge the witch’s next attack, and Aviella’s fingers narrowly skimmed past Shizuku’s chin. “…” The witch had reached out to slash Shizuku’s throat. If Shizuku hadn’t already been planning to retreat, she never would have dodged the attack. Shizuku took another few steps back, the close shave leaving her in a cold sweat. The witch closed the distance that Shizuku had just created between them, her steps graceful. “What’s wrong? Have you lost your nerve?” Aviella asked mockingly, having formulated another spell in her right hand. Her single spell conjured four blades of air. The attack was invisible to Shizuku, and the blades neatly split apart and closed in on Shizuku from all directions. “Master! Behind you!” Mea shouted sharply. Shizuku responded to the small bird’s command by turning around and running back. The blades attacked from the front. Mea deflected them once again. The blades from the left and right collided with one another behind Shizuku, causing an explosion. “Get down!” Shizuku immediately crouched down just as a gust of wind passed right over her head. A blade that just missed her throat lodged itself into the ceiling of the hall, causing fine stone debris to rain down onto the magic circle. The pieces fell on Erik and the pool of water in front of him, creating small ripples on its surface. Yet Erik didn’t move an inch. She was only a few steps away from the outer edge of the magic circle. Shuddering with fear, Shizuku attempted to glance over her shoulder—but at that very moment, her body was lifted into the air. “Wait…!” She was going to slam into the ceiling. Sensing what was coming, Shizuku immediately curled into a ball to protect her head. However, as soon as her field of vision turned upside down, the witch’s interference was cut off and Shizuku went into free fall. “Whoa!” How could she brace herself for the impact? Shizuku was startled, but thanks to Mea’s support, she managed to land on her feet. All of Aviella’s rapid-fire attacks had been avoided, and the witch turned around, smiling. “Not bad.” She was looking at Harve, who’d made the hasty decision to thwart Aviella’s spell. He was glaring at the witch, his face pale. “You know you can’t win just by defending, though, right?” Her offhanded taunt hit Shizuku where it hurt. She had little combat experience to speak of, and Harve was a support-type mage. There was no way they could take on Aviella with Mea’s fighting power alone. Naturally, Shizuku had had a specific goal in mind when she stepped forward, but for her plan to succeed, she needed to lure the witch into the magic circle. Would Aviella really follow her if she continued to retreat? Shizuku waited for the right moment to act, making sure her intentions didn’t show on her face. Aviella, on the other hand, created a huge, area-wide spell that shattered Shizuku’s hopes. “I’m sorry, girl…but you’re five years too early to challenge me.” Was she basing this advice on how old Shizuku looked? Annoyed, Shizuku felt the urge to ask, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, another voice echoed throughout the hall. “In that case, I’ll make up for those five years.” The man’s laugh suggested he was enjoying the situation despite their predicament. Yet there was an iciness hidden at its core. Everyone’s eyes turned toward the entrance of the room. Two figures stood in the open doorway, both casting scathing glances at the witch. The man stepped confidently into the hall, wielding a large sword. He seemed unshaken, despite the gruesome sights that surrounded him. Shizuku called out his name, shocked that their paths had crossed again. “Tarkis!” “Shizuku! I’m just glad you’re still alive. It looks like everyone else is doing fine—well, apart from all the dead.” “Actually, a fair few people are still breathing, but they’re hanging by a thread,” Shizuku said. Following Tarkis into the hall, Lydia grouchily swept her hair to the side and shifted her gaze toward the witch. Aviella looked at the pair with a hint of surprise. Perhaps she remembered having hired them. Tarkis grinned defiantly as he readied his sword. “I know it’s been a while, but we’ll be saying goodbye again before you know it… It’s time to face the consequences of your actions, Aviella.” His blade gave off a dull gleam, and Lydia began to chant. When Harve noticed what she was doing, he started formulating a spell of his own. Willpower, strength, and prayer were coming together. As those elements intertwined and bounced off one another, a brief stillness fell over the hall. In the center, the witch lowered her gaze and formed a new spell inside her hand. The murky, expanding miasma silently reached out to both humans and animals, subtly distorting their minds. When Leuticia saw how unwell the soldiers on the front lines looked, she ordered the chief mage to erect a barrier to protect them from the miasma. As she looked up at the massive horde of demonic spirits that loomed on the other side of the mountain path like a dark cloud, the princess of Farsas made a quiet comment. “What a sickening sight. I wish I could burn them all to ashes.” “Do it, then. You’ll feel a lot better,” Oltovine replied. “If I could, I would’ve already.” Her honest response made Oltovine scowl. The idea of having to fight those kinds of enemies made him miserable. Leuticia noticed his frown but made no effort to console him. “We might be the magic kingdom, but we don’t have an endless supply of mages. Most of them are researchers.” “I did reach out to a mage I know, but I’m not sure whether they’ll come.” “Why not? Don’t they work for your royal court?” “No. I doubt they’d turn up when there are so many people around.” Leuticia shrugged at this enigmatic response. Once the pair were notified that the full army was ready to mobilize, they wordlessly began riding ahead, a grim atmosphere hanging in the air. The location they’d chosen to use to form ranks lay beyond the mountain path, backed by a rocky cliff. It was a confined area, which made it difficult to use magic, but if they’d chosen an open area without any cover, it would be impossible to counter attacks from airborne enemies. Thus, the troops’ first step was to decrease the number of enemies at that location. Swaying from side to side atop her horse, Leuticia closed her eyes and focused her attention on her own magical powers. Erik still hadn’t finished drawing on her magical power. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she got the impression that the level of miasma in the area had lessened compared to when she’d said goodbye to her brother a few hours earlier. She held back a sigh. If Lars’s trump card was Shizuku, then Leuticia’s was Erik. While he wasn’t born with a significant amount of magical power, tireless study had helped Erik develop an extraordinary aptitude for constructing spells. Allowing him to use her own magical power was like having another version of herself on the battlefield. As a mage, Erik played more of a background role than Leuticia, but this meant he was more adept at manipulating spells. The fact that he’d overwritten a magic-nullification spell during the battle in Kisk was proof of that. “Erik… Please make it work.” If Farsas were to be defeated, there was no other nation on the continent that would be able to stand up to the witch. The continent would be plunged into darkness once more and they’d end up lost in the very state they thought they’d escaped. “Leuticia, they’ve spotted us.” Oltovine’s voice snapped the princess back to reality. When she looked up, she saw the dark clouds that had been swirling in the direction of the castle slowly start to move toward them. Leuticia curled her petal-like lips. “Okay. I’ll turn them all to ash.” “Halt the advance! Put up a defensive barrier!” “Prepare area-wide fireballs! Intercept their attack!” In an instant, the ranks of troops were thrown into chaos as the two royals began preparing for the upcoming battle. This was a fight between two enormous armies—one made up of demons, and the other made up of humans. A clash on a scale never seen before in the long history of the continent was about to begin. About eighty percent of the floor on the castle’s spacious top level had caved in. That wasn’t all. The force of the impact had also devastated the floors below, creating deep holes from falling rubble that spanned several stories. Elzard looked down at the still sight. Nothing but a gust of cold wind blew through it. What kind of mocking remarks would Aviella make if she came back now? He quietly clicked his tongue in frustration, then landed beside the throne to repair the damage. “You’re all bark and no bite, you pest… You don’t do anything right.” “—I get told that all the time.” Lars’s response was an obvious lie. As he spoke, he brought his sword crashing down with incredible force. Elzard immediately dodged it. If he hadn’t sensed the magical energy coming his way, the sword would have sliced deep into his skull. He’d had a narrow escape from death, but the searing pain that followed made him scream. Clutching his severed right arm, the demon teleported to a faraway part of the hall. He couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. His mind went blank. It had been several years since he’d adopted a physical form, but this was the first time he’d been wounded. As the demon stifled a cry, glaring at the dripping blood, Lars gave him a cheerful smile. “It hurts pretty bad when you get hurt, huh? I recommend you choose the instant death option next time.” “You bastard… How?” Aside from the shoulder wound that Lars had sustained earlier, he was totally unscathed. How had he managed to dodge Elzard’s attacks? The demon stared at the king—a man who was supposedly unable to use magic. Although Lars, the wielder of the royal sword, did possess magical powers, he was unable to formulate spells. Akashia dispersed any magic its owner attempted to use. However, on closer inspection, Elzard noticed another object that was emitting a small amount of magical energy separate from that the king possessed. It was a white stone ring on the man’s finger. When Elzard realized that was what had gotten him into this situation, his voice cracked. “Is that a magic implement…? How impudent you humans are…” “Sorry, but no. It’s not a magic implement. It’s something I borrowed from my sister.” Without hesitating, Lars took off the ring and tossed it on the floor. The small piece of jewelry immediately transformed into a shimmering silver pool of water. It was only when the pale hand of a woman started creeping out of the liquid that Elzard understood. White hair emerged from the fountain of silver. The figure had a slender body, a small face, and silver eyes. The young girl was clearly not human—she was a spirit. She was a high-ranking demon who’d served the royal family for centuries. When she spotted Elzard, a being from the same species as her, she smiled slightly. Then Lars issued her a simple command. “Capture him, Silfa. I’ll kill him once you’re done.” “As you wish, King Lars.” The girl leaped off the ground with the grace of a dancer. As Elzard saw her spell spreading across the room, he let go of his wounded arm and began forming a spell of his own. The two demons’ magical powers collided, generating a fierce gust of wind. The non-human forces they wielded competed against one another, resulting in a massive burst of energy that shook the towering castle to its core. As the ground collapsed beneath him, Lars casually jumped over to a remaining section of the floor. “Well, nobody’s come through that hole we opened for them. Something must be going on. Better finish up quickly so we can go and check it out,” Lars said, sounding completely unfazed. On the top floor, fierce sparks of magical energy surged up once more. Aviella unleashed another strike. Tarkis dodged the crackling ball of electricity by turning sideways. He dashed across the floor again, closing the distance between himself and the witch in just a few steps. His movements were more agile than you’d expect from someone with such a sturdy, tall frame. He used that momentum to swing his hefty longsword, but Aviella deflected it using the barrier she’d created in her right hand. “…Oh dear, yet another troublesome opponent has appeared.” Aviella was holding the red book in her left hand, so she could only cast non-recited spells with her right one. If Shizuku were her only opponent, she might’ve been able to get away with it, but she was at a bit of a disadvantage against Tarkis. Frowning, Aviella suddenly found herself besieged by magic from three different directions. Lydia, Harve, and Mea were all launching their attacks. Before their spells could reach her, however, the witch vanished into thin air, leaving the attacks to collide right in front of Tarkis. “Whoa! Cut it out, Lydia!” he exclaimed. “You know you could have just dodged it, right?” Lydia replied. As Tarkis stepped back from the aftershocks of the magic attacks, he glanced at the witch, who’d reappeared at the far side of the room. Nobody said a word. Aviella looked down at her book for a moment, then shifted her gaze to Shizuku. When the witch saw the determination in Shizuku’s eyes, she forced a smile. Still holding the book, she raised her right hand. “I see. I suppose luck in itself is a form of power.” She didn’t sound especially bitter. As everyone’s attention concentrated on her, the witch formulated a spell with her pale fingers, then fired invisible bullets of magical energy at Tarkis. “Go right, Tarkis!” “Okay.” “Step back! Further to the left!” “Which one is it?” As confused as he sounded, Tarkis adroitly dodged the seemingly invisible attacks by following Lydia’s instructions. Any attacks he didn’t manage to evade were deflected by Lydia’s barriers, and he didn’t get hit by a single one. Shizuku watched the scene wide-eyed, while Harve stared in disbelief. “Amazing…” As a mage, Lydia’s skills rivalled those of royal court mages, and she’d gained a wealth of combat experience through her mercenary work. Given that Tarkis had worked with her for a long time, it made sense that he’d be able to evade magic attacks with her help. The swordsmen the witch had defeated so far had only been at a disadvantage because they couldn’t see magical energy, so Tarkis and Lydia’s skills filled Shizuku with a sudden surge of hope. Shizuku ran across the hall, keeping an eye on what Aviella and Tarkis were doing, then grabbed hold of Harve and dragged him over to Lydia. “Sorry, but I have a plan. Please hear me out.” “Sure. What is it?” “I want to lure the witch into the magic circle. I’m going to trap her in the magical device.” “…Huh?” “Wait, what?” The two mages were shocked by Shizuku’s suggestion. After all, she wasn’t a mage herself. Shizuku glanced at Tarkis, then continued. “This magic array is based on Helginis’s purification barrier, but actually, that purification barrier itself was a forbidden curse.” “What?” This time, only Lydia sounded astonished. Harve was surprised, too, but he quickly seemed to realize that Shizuku was using the book she was holding as her source. There was nobody else nearby, but Lydia lowered her voice nonetheless. “I know there’s that legend about the saint, but the spell’s range and effects did seem inexplicably large. Still, though, a forbidden spell? Now that you say it, it does make sense.” “The first saint infused her soul into this magical device when she made it. It’s considered a forbidden curse because these devices require women’s souls to work.” That was why they’d been extracting souls from women in Farsas. They were using them to power the device. Aviella had been gathering souls from all over the place to help her transform Helginis into the underworld. “In the past, Helginis would sacrifice a powerful female mage every few years to keep the device running. The downfall of Helginis six hundred years ago was caused by an attempt to trap one of the witches into this device.” “They tried to put a witch in there…? But how?” “That pool of water is the key. When someone falls into it, their magic and soul get siphoned away. That’s how they restrained the Witch Who Cannot Be Summoned six hundred years ago. Helginis was destroyed because other witches viewed the situation as too dangerous and intervened. In other words, if Aviella’s alone, she won’t be able to escape once she falls into the pool of water.” That was what Shizuku had been aiming for from the outset. She wanted to lure Aviella over to the basin of water. Casting a barrier all the while, Lydia lowered her voice to respond to Shizuku’s idea. “Doesn’t Aviella know that story, though? Won’t it be hard to tempt her over to the pool of water?” “No. Just getting her into the magic circle will be enough. Once she’s there, we’ll be able to reach with the water.” Shizuku exchanged glances with the small bird on her shoulder. Mea, Shizuku’s assistant demon, had originally acted as the core for the castle at the bottom of the lake. As a result of that, she was adept at manipulating water. If they could lure Aviella inside the magic array, Mea would be able to control the water in the shallow pool and drag the witch in. After Shizuku explained this, Harve and Lydia finally seemed to understand her plan. Thirty seconds after their hushed conversation had begun, they refocused their attention on Aviella. “Okay. Let’s give it a go.” “Thanks.” Lydia ran off to support Tarkis, and Harve cast a barrier as he made his way over to the mage who was still continuing to heal people. Shizuku, meanwhile, went back to stand in front of the magic circle. The rewriting process wasn’t complete yet. It would be done soon, though. Then Erik would be able to move again. There was just something Shizuku needed to do before he reached that stage. “Mea, help Tarkis and Lydia. I’m going to lure Aviella toward the magic circle.” “As you wish.” Thanks to the arrival of Tarkis and Lydia, they’d narrowly managed to avoid defeat—but to Shizuku’s frustration, Aviella had strayed far away from the magic circle. To win, she had to do everything she could to bring the witch back over toward it. Shizuku put away her dagger and clutched her book tightly in both hands. As she watched the two mercenaries putting up a good fight against the witch, she forced her mind to slip toward the depths of the books. Her vision began to blur. The world she could see withdrew into the distance. She followed her connection to the cursed artifact deep within. Riding that current, she stretched her consciousness deeper, further away. The vast expanse made her feel like she was about to fade away, and once Shizuku was there, she started to look at the red book. This was a method she hadn’t been able to use before. It required intense concentration, so it was impossible to do while dodging Aviella’s attacks. For now, though, Tarkis and the others were keeping her occupied. If the books meddled with her own mind, would it be possible to use the two of them to peer into Aviella’s? She wasn’t sure, but it was worth trying. Shizuku ventured deep. Into the book. Into the depths of her being. This sinking process was incredibly dark. It wasn’t as if there was no light—it just felt “dark.” Dark and lonely. And frightening. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been cut off from everything else. She wanted to interact with the world, to interact with people. But she was an anomaly that couldn’t reach them. And so, sobbing, she descended into the darkness. She traveled deeper, even further into the depths. What awaited her there was something she should have already known. Something she understood, but had forgotten. As well as her power, willpower, spirit, and soul. Deeper. Only deeper. “Oh, I get it…” At long last, Shizuku recovered her fragmented memories. The very start of her journey. The time when she’d confronted the serpent of Negativity. Words. Picture books. Death. How had she forgotten all of those things? Had she been made to forget them? Everything that had happened up until now fell into place. She was getting a better grasp on how to use the book and its power. In the depths of the darkness, Shizuku lifted her tearstained face. She saw the mind of the person who’d come into contact with the book. It was a white light. A flame burning in the darkness. A hopeful prayer. The trajectory of a sorrowful, pitiful, hardworking person… Shizuku stared into the white light. Then she took a deep breath and blew gently into it. The distance Aviella had created by teleporting a short distance away was shrinking. The man with the defiant gaze, who was receiving support from his comrades, had closed in on her again. His sword was fairly large, but he wielded it flawlessly. Aviella, meanwhile, deliberately left herself vulnerable at times, hoping he’d chase her too far, but Tarkis wasn’t going to take any risks. After all, he was a seasoned mercenary who’d survived countless close calls. Fighting Tarkis with just her right hand, Aviella had already evaded his attacks using teleportation on three occasions. As she deflected his sword with the barrier she’d created, she glanced around at the challengers scattered throughout the hall. It seemed like the surviving people had been receiving magical treatment while Tarkis was distracting her. Some had even managed to stand up again. After teleporting away for the fourth time, Aviella muttered to herself. “I doubt I’ll lose at this rate, but winning will probably take some time…” If she wanted to guarantee victory, it might have been wiser to target the female mage or the one overwriting the spell. This thought brought a wry smile to Aviella’s face. She thought about the remark a certain young girl had made earlier. “You brought challengers here so they could kill you, didn’t you?” That was part of the truth, but not all of it. In fact, the witch had no intention of being killed—not yet, anyway. She wasn’t nearly satisfied. She wanted to leave a mark that would curse the continent for centuries to come. She didn’t want her legacy to be that of ambitious people picking up their swords, or heroes as powerful as they were determined trying to slay the witch. She wanted to leave behind a much more profound sorrow. The anger that stemmed from cruel injustices; the grief of the survivors, left to grapple with what had happened and the future that awaited them; and the repentance inspired by the pervading memory of history’s cruelty. That was why she was taking some lives while leaving others behind. She wanted the survivors to pass down tales of hatred and fear for generations to come. It was like making a small hole in a wall before a massive crack formed, allowing a surging torrent to escape. She didn’t expect anyone else to understand her arrogance—she didn’t even want to accept it herself. Still, after taking a farsighted look at the continent’s long history and traveling from country to country, Aviella had gained a crystal clear perspective. If things continued the way they were going, the continent would eventually slip slowly into a long period of darkness once again. “You can’t keep running away!” The blade of the large sword came crashing down toward Aviella. She deflected it with a barrier, but the sheer force of the blow made her lose her balance. She blocked the follow-up strike, then conjured dozens of fire arrows above her head. “—Fire!” “Lydia!” “I’m already on it!” The downpour of arrows pursued Tarkis, who’d taken a large leap back to dodge the attack. Fortunately, Lydia had unleashed a spell that had swept away more than half of the arrows. Tarkis deflected the ones that remained with the magic sword he’d drawn with his left hand. However, dealing with the arrows had given the witch enough time to complete her spell. “Tarkis! Below you!” At almost the same moment that Lydia delivered her warning, an invisible force wrapped around both of his ankles. Tarkis felt a sharp pain, like thin vines digging into his skin. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he crouched down, hoping to sever the invisible shackles with his magic sword. It hadn’t even been ten seconds since she’d cast the fire arrows, but in that time, Tarkis’s battle-hardened instincts had told him that something was wrong. He looked up and met the witch’s gaze. There was a sorrow in her brown eyes, almost as if she was looking at someone who was about to leave her. A mass of magical energy strong enough to change the atmosphere around them hung in the air. She got me. Tarkis’s frown elicited a smile from the witch. She was about to unleash an unstoppable strike. It was an attack intended to take his life. Tarkis knew he was defeated. But just as she was about to unleash the spell… Aviella’s face froze. Picking up bones. She was picking up the bones of a child who’d died on the dry earth. It was a minor dispute. A conflict between remote tribes. Plenty of fights like that happened in all places, in all eras. So she knelt and gathered the bones. The spell she’d created distorted. Aviella pressed her right hand to her temple, then met Tarkis’s puzzled gaze. Something was wrong, but she didn’t know what. She attempted to put together a new spell. Out came a twisted, golden blade. She hurled it at the man. Feeling dizzy, Aviella took a few wobbly steps. Every step of her journey came flooding back. Why was this happening now, of all times? “So, you’re a high-ranking demon. You look pretty human to me.” “Oh? You’re just a kid? What do you want from me?” “What do I want? Hmm… Well, I’m an evil mage. How about we wreak havoc across the continent?” “Would that be fun for you?” There was somebody lurking in the depths of her mind. Someone other than herself—and they were staring straight at her. From time to time, she would look at Aviella. She was sobbing, her big, dark eyes filled with tears. She blew out another breath. “Tarkis! Press her from the left!” “Yeah, I know.” A fierce slash came toward her. Aviella didn’t take it head-on but silently leaped to the side, sending invisible vines twisting toward the man’s legs. But it was an attack they’d seen before, and Lydia immediately released a small burst of magic to send the vines in another direction. The stone floor shattered beneath Tarkis’s feet, prompting him to retreat slightly. Pressing her hand against her temple, the witch began to construct her next spell. Once upon a time, she’d tried to have faith in human intelligence and reasoning. She believed that as long as she had the book she’d inherited from her grandfather, she could save people from repeating the same mistakes. Yet the words Aviella had written with this belief in mind didn’t resonate with anyone anywhere. The only people they had reached were those who could see nothing but what was right in front of them. “What does it matter that it’s a forbidden curse? Whether ten thousand people die ten years from now is irrelevant—we need this power to save a thousand people now.” “Past failures are in the past. I’ll handle it better this time. Just lend me your knowledge.” “Secret history? How ridiculous. What’s more important is what we can do right now.” At the end of the day, people thought, What’s done is done. They never considered the same things could happen to them, so they carried on trying to make the same mistakes, believing that they’d be the ones to get away unscathed. Aviella’s struggle to get her message across had taught her about human nature. That was why she’d chosen another path—one that nobody could turn a blind eye to. She started traveling the continent with a demon by her side. In the process, they’d impart their knowledge to people. Good and bad, concealed, forbidden—all of it. From time to time, she’d also collect junk. At what point did she start picking up things the dead had left behind? Aviella wasn’t sure, but the fact remained that she collected the relics of both those she’d killed and those killed by others. She’d line them up in her small room and lose herself in thought for a moment. She couldn’t be sad. She couldn’t let herself feel regret. She’d renounced the right to lament her actions a long time ago. From the moment she began wandering the continent, spreading her knowledge of forbidden curses, she’d stopped looking back. The desire to save people…was something she’d given up as mere arrogance. Her thoughts were in disarray. She couldn’t formulate spells properly. As soon as the sword drew near, Aviella just released a burst of magical power and took a few steps back. Tarkis bounded toward her. She knew she had to counterattack before the sword struck her, but for now, creating a protective barrier was all she could manage. The man, brandishing his sword mere inches away from her, smirked at the breathless witch. “What’s wrong? Feeling under the weather?” “Who can say.” If some people were defective and inhumane, then Aviella was undoubtedly among them. She could only see life through the lens of history. To allow tens of thousands to live in the future, she needed to kill thousands in the present. She just had to choose how. This was an incorrigibly arrogant way of seeing things. She was no different from the foolish rulers she’d reviled in her youth—she’d realized how foolish it was long ago. If she kept taking things from others, she’d never be able to leave a true legacy of her own. But even so… She pushed back the man’s sword with a defensive barrier. After retreating even more, Aviella abruptly sensed something and allowed her gaze to wander. She caught sight of the girl in front of the magic circle, clutching a book. She thought about the occasional sobs that echoed from the depths of her mind, and the breath that had triggered a change in her. Who were they coming from? Who’d concealed themself inside her, beneath her notice? Aviella stared at the black-haired girl. A sense of déjà vu swept over her. “…Is it you?” she asked, and Shizuku opened her eyes. Their eyes met. Compassion and loneliness. Pride and grief. Their contrasting gazes, both reaching out for their own meager ideals, met for a moment. There was, however, an ineradicable disparity between their two perspectives. “You…” At that moment, Aviella grasped both what was happening and who was making it happen. Everything made sense to her. This was a power that defied the laws of magic—the same power possessed by the red book, which exposed the secrets of history. On numerous occasions, she’d questioned why such a book existed. Even Elzard, who came from a different realm, had no idea. While its true nature seemed impossible to uncover, everything Aviella wanted to know was revealed in its pages. Still, after everything she’d been through, Aviella could tell what it really was. It was understandable that it didn’t abide by the laws of her world. After all, it didn’t belong there. “How dare you…!” In a fit of fury, Aviella pieced together a spell. She was planning to shoot a bolt of magic through Shizuku’s body, as well as the book she was holding. At that moment, however, the water in the shallow pool erupted violently, crashing toward her. “—!” It swallowed up Aviella’s entire body as if it were a living being, dragging her toward the basin. This water could draw out a person’s soul. Her magical power was being pulled into the circle. Aviella struggled against the ferocious current. She formulated a spell, hoping to escape before she reached the basin—but just before her spell was complete, she was struck by a sudden impact, causing her to collapse into the pool behind her. Water splashed high up into the air. Aviella shot a vicious glare at the girl who’d slammed into her. “You…” “We won.” Inside the pool of water, a completely drenched Shizuku flashed the witch a pained smile and took out her dagger. There was no doubt in her expression. She wasn’t going to hesitate. Driven by sheer determination, Shizuku swung her blade down at the witch she’d pinned to the floor. The sharp point of the blade stayed on target, heading straight toward the witch’s chest. The very next moment, however, a jolt ran through her body. “Shizuku!” A man shouted her name. Shizuku looked down at her chest. Red blood began to gush out of a small wound that had opened above her heart. A magic projectile had been fired at her at close range. The caster, Aviella, pushed Shizuku aside. Shizuku immediately collapsed into the pool of water. Her body was cold. Her vision was growing darker by the second. Through her blurry eyes, she saw a hand reaching out toward her. She could tell who it belonged to, so she just closed her eyes. She wanted to tell them that it was all right, but the words got stuck in her throat. They thought they’d won. If expecting victory was a crime, then Lydia and Harve were equally guilty. They’d drawn the witch into the pool, as intended, and the device had begun to absorb her immense magical power. Just when they thought they’d succeeded, however, their triumph turned into failure. Aviella staggered to her feet and emerged from the water. Most of her magical power had been drained from her, leaving her lethargic. She brushed off her drenched mage’s robe, then turned to look down at the woman lying in the shallow pool. The blood from the hole in her chest had begun to disperse into the water. Her navy-blue book was floating right by her side. “…What a shame,” Aviella said callously. She didn’t make any further remarks. At the end of the day, Shizuku was an audacious spectator from outside her world. Aviella didn’t feel like offering her even the slightest shred of pity. Aviella was about to turn around when she spotted the man right beside the shallow pool. Erik, still connected to the magic circle’s spell, had reached into the water, trying to lift Shizuku’s body up. He grabbed her soaked hand and pulled her into his arms, his expression the picture of desperation. As he began reciting an incantation in an attempt to heal the wound on her chest, Aviella seemed torn. She considered pointing out how pointless his actions were, but had second thoughts. Instead, she gathered the magic she had left into her fingertips. “You may as well follow her.” “Erik!” Harve shouted, having run over to them. Flying around above Shizuku, Mea countered Aviella’s attack by unleashing a blade of wind. Lydia also sent a barrage of attacks her way, but Aviella blocked them with barriers, having let go of the book. The witch turned away from the pool of water, smirking at the three frustrated individuals. “What’s wrong? You should have known what was coming. The weak are destined to die.” “N-nonsense!” Harve shouted, positioning himself in front of the witch. Although his eyes were filled with turmoil, Harve did not hold back his anger toward Aviella. “All you’re doing is desecrating the past! You’re ignoring the determination shown by people! How can you drone on about history when you’re just going to reject their efforts?! You’re the one making people stumble into the same pitfalls! Witches are obstacles that people have no way of avoiding!” “That’s still better than doing nothing.” The witch’s voice was frosty. She glanced down at the water dripping from her silver hair, which was gradually forming a puddle of water atop the magic circle. “If things continue the way they’re going, the continent will descend into another era of warfare in the next few hundred years. There are no more witches on the continent, and the Farsasian royal family’s magical power has been diminishing with every generation. With Farsas weakened, the continent will lose its deterrent. Research on magic implements will advance further and further, and countries will start dabbling in forbidden curses. It’ll be worse than the Return… This continent will descend back into darkness itself.” One period in history had made Farsas reluctant to sell magic implements to other countries—an era known as the Return. About three hundred years earlier, a new method of creating magic implements had been discovered in Gandona. After that, dramatic progress was made in the research and production of magic implements, and before long, these new tools were used in fierce battles. Citizens noted that this era of warfare, which raged across the continent for almost ten years, felt like the second coming of the Dark Age—earning it the name “the Return.” Many countries, including the Great Nation of Tayiri, fell during these conflicts, reminding people that there was no country that couldn’t be destroyed. At that time, Farsas and Gandona played key roles in quelling the chaos. Still, not even those two countries could stay powerful forever. They, too, would decline, and figures like the infamous disgraced king would emerge. Once the equilibrium between nations was disrupted, the continent would plunge into darkness once again. No one could say how long that darkness would last. The future was unknown. Though it wasn’t as if the witch cared to know. With a self-deprecating smile, Aviella gathered her magic into her fingertips once more. Then she fixed her aim on Harve, who showed no signs of retreating. “I want to leave my mark, no matter what you fools think. As long as I do—” But that was as far as she got. Aviella’s eyes widened as she looked down at her own body, soaked in water. Her mage’s robe was red. For some reason, the sharp point of a silver blade had jutted out from just below her chest. “You won’t leave anything behind. Because I’m going to kill you.” “Kaito!” Lydia’s voice trembled with shock. Behind her, the mage who’d healed Kaito gasped. Tarkis frowned. Harve was speechless. Shizuku kept her eyes closed, and Erik refused to look up. It was as though time had come to a standstill. Aviella grasped hold of the blade that had pierced her body and slowly turned around. The boy was on the brink of death. His pale face told her he was about to collapse at any moment, and he was barely standing. His derisive gaze taunted the witch. “Nothing…will be left behind… You’ll be killed by someone who’s about to die… Serves you right.” This scathing comment was all he could manage before he tumbled to the ground. His gauntleted hand fell into a puddle of mixed water and blood. Aviella stared intently at him. The dying boy was curled up like a baby, his body growing colder by the second. It was as if he were a child who nobody had been able to save, much like all the other corpses in the pile. Alone, disconnected from everything and everyone, his life was drawing to a close. Having given up on everything—including making her mark and leaving it behind—Aviella looked down at her injury. The wound on her chest was fatal. She didn’t have much magical power left, either. She looked down at the boy one more time, then knelt beside him. She extended her hand above him and poured all of her magical power into his broken body. The warmth of her healing prompted Kaito to open his eyes. The woman gave him a serene smile. “…See? I did leave something behind,” she whispered in his ear. Then she collapsed without a sound. Aviella exhaled deeply. She calmly closed her eyes, as if she was drifting off to sleep. And with that, the witch fell silent, disappearing from history without another word. His senses trembled. Fending off a sequence of fierce attacks from his fellow demon, Elzard grew tense for a brief moment. He leaped back and looked around. “Aviella’s…dead?” He’d always been able to sense his contract holder, no matter where she was—but now, it felt as if the connection had been severed. Her presence had vanished from the castle. What could have happened…? There was only one answer. She was dead. She’d died. Her body would rot, and her soul would melt away and never come back. In the midst of his confusion, Elzard heard Lars’s raspy voice. “What’s the problem? Did someone kill the witch? That’ll save me the trouble of searching for her, at least.” The king let out a snort of laughter. Elzard, however, didn’t hear him. He was focused on identifying where Aviella’s presence had disappeared. It was gone. If that was true, he needed to confirm it for himself. What had she left behind? What kind of death had she faced? He wouldn’t gain anything until he had answers to those questions. His arrival in this world would have been futile. He set the coordinates to the hall where Aviella’s presence had been lost and began constructing a teleportation spell, but it was immediately shattered by one of Silfa’s attacks. It was a spell that seized him by the limbs and dragged him toward her. Having been captured, the only thing that awaited him was the king’s sword. Lars grinned, Akashia in hand. “Well then, it’s about time you made your exit, too.” The double-edged blade was thrust toward him at a terrifying speed. Elzard stared in astonishment as the sword pierced through his body, and his flesh began to disperse into a black mist from the spot where the sword had run through him. He showed no emotion as he watched himself disappear. A clear voice echoed around his fading consciousness. “Humans are beautiful, Elzard.” He’d never understood what she meant. Not even in that moment. Yet there was one thing that was crystal clear to him. As Aviella had tried to alter the unchangeable, murky tides, she’d been exceptionally beautiful herself. Nobody said a word. It was as if a heavy curse had filled the entire hall. In the midst of that silence, Kaito was the first person to move. As he rose to his feet, he examined his body, then looked down at Aviella’s corpse with bitterness on his face. Despite being dead, her expression was incredibly peaceful. He glanced at the face of the woman liberated by her own death, then turned on his heel and left the hall without saying a word. The sound of his footsteps must have brought Lydia back to her senses, because she started tending to the injured, dragging Tarkis with her. Holding back everything he wanted to say, Harve approached his friend. “Erik…” “What?” “U-uh, is Shizuku…?” “She’s alive. I sealed her wound, so just keep an eye on her for a minute.” “What?!” Harve hesitantly took hold of Shizuku’s drenched body. When he examined her closer, he saw her chest rising and falling slightly. He’d assumed that she’d been killed instantly by the witch’s attack, so the revelation that Shizuku was actually alive made Harve sink to the ground. In the process, he almost bumped her head against the floor and panickedly wrapped his arms around her. “What a relief… How did she survive, though? I thought she was done for.” “Thanks to her magic implements, I suspect. I made her put on all kinds of protective items. They probably lessened the impact.” “I see…” The number of casualties was immense, but at least they’d exterminated the witch. Harve had mixed emotions, but he let out a sigh of relief nonetheless. Erik responded with a casual wave of his hand. “Sorry. I stepped out of the magic circle. Now that I’ve finished rewriting it, I’ll activate it.” “Oh, okay.” Holding an unconscious Shizuku in his arms, Harve walked outside of the large magic circle. On his way there, the red book lying near the witch’s corpse caught his eye, but he simply shook his head and made no attempt to pick it up. The soldier used the blade of his sword to deflect the claws plunging toward him from above. It was difficult to keep the demonic spirit’s immense strength at bay, even using two hands. In that fleeting moment of stalemate, however, a nearby mage cut through the demon’s body. “Thanks for the help.” The soldier offered a brief expression of gratitude before positioning his sword and searching for new foes. They’d been clashing with the horde of demons for the better part of an hour. As they continued to fight, they started to get the impression that their enemies were truly infinite. No matter how many they managed to kill, demonic spirits kept appearing. The demons attacked relentlessly, trying to tear their bodies to pieces. There was no end in sight, and most of the troops felt like they were going to run out of willpower before they ran out of stamina. “Shit!” The soldier stepped back, shielding his head from the acid being sprayed in his direction. How long would it go on? He wanted to scream, but this was a fight they couldn’t back down from. He used a cloth to fix his grip on his weapon’s slippery handle, which was covered in blood and sweat. At that moment, a gust of wind swept across the battlefield. The stagnant atmosphere shifted. A strong wind was coming from the direction of the castle. Filled with incredible power, it rushed down the mountain path awash with chaotic battles. The soldier instinctively shielded his head as the cries of demonic spirits echoed above him—but then the noise gradually faded into the distance. Their sharp shrieks seemed to get carried away by the wind, allowing a calm stillness to spread through the air. The man cautiously looked up. “…What’s that?” Light was shining across the previously gloomy wasteland. The sudden change in atmosphere left the soldier flabbergasted. To his surprise, the number of demonic spirits in the sky had halved. Not only that, but the thick clouds that had previously obscured the sky had dissipated so quickly it was almost anticlimactic. The soldiers and mages exchanged bewildered looks, cocking their heads in confusion. “Did that wind just blow away the clouds and demonic spirits?” “That’s absurd. But…” The troops couldn’t believe their eyes, yet the scene that had suddenly greeted them could only signify hope. Without delay, they resumed their attack on the remaining demons with renewed vigor. Having been giving orders among the ranks of troops, Leuticia heaved a sigh of relief when she realized what had happened. “They purified the area… That’s a bold move.” Her praise was directed toward a man who wasn’t even there. Smiling at the skill of her subordinate, she issued new commands to subjugate their remaining foes. Oltovine, who’d been fighting elsewhere, looked to the sky and exhaled. “Looks like we’ll be able to manage somehow… Right?” There was still a swarm of demonic spirits in the sky, but the horde didn’t look as endless as before. If they managed to reduce the demons’ numbers a little more, he might be able to take over command from Leuticia and let her venture into the tower before the rest of them. “That said, reducing their numbers will be near impossible.” They’d need to mobilize a significant number of mages to strike down the flying horde. But for the time being, everyone had their hands full. They had no choice but to take it slow, fighting one step at a time. But just as Oltovine was thinking this, he heard the sound of a new set of wings flapping behind him. A large shadow appeared on the ground. A few soldiers lifted their heads to see what was there, only for a white flash to scorch their vision. The massive beam of light pierced through the sky, engulfing a cluster of demonic spirits. In complete silence, they vanished without a trace. Everybody watched in mute amazement as a red dragon circled around above their heads. The young girl with long black hair sitting on top of it showed her face. When she spotted Oltovine among all the horses and people, she gave him a light-hearted wave. “…Lyshien, you came.” The girl was the princess of Anneli—a country that Oltovine himself had destroyed. Blessed with powerful magical energy that had seen her imprisoned since birth, she had been contacted by Oltovine ahead of the battle. According to the records, Lyshien was meant to be dead, so Oltovine had doubted that she’d make a public appearance, but in doing so, she’d made a huge difference. The state of the battle made Oltovine breathe a sigh of relief. Victory was starting to look like a possibility. In front of him stood the witch’s twisted castle, now fully exposed in the light of day. “Shizuku. All the answers are already inside you.” When Shizuku regained consciousness, she discovered that someone had laid her down at the edge of the hall with the magic circle in it. She slowly sat up and looked around, then picked up the little bird by her side—Mea. The oppressive feeling that had pervaded the hall earlier was gone. All that was left was a small number of individuals, rushing around in a frenzy. When he noticed that Shizuku was awake, Erik came over to her from where he’d been standing in the center of the room. Holding two books in one of his hands, he positioned himself in front of Shizuku and placed the books on the floor. “How are you feeling?” “I’m…fine. Just a little dazed,” Shizuku replied. “That’s good to hear. You always dive right into things. The stress of watching you is going to take years off my life.” “S-sorry.” When Shizuku looked down at her chest, where she’d been attacked, she spotted a small round hole in her clothing. She looked through the hole and checked that there were no wounds on her skin, then lowered her gaze. “Um, what happened to the witch…?” “She’s dead. I finished overwriting the spell, too. We can use teleportation now, so we’re in the process of sending the injured outside,” Erik said, before crouching down next to her. “I’ve also gotten in touch with the princess. It sounds like they’re exterminating the enemies outside the castle. Once someone fetches the king, we’re done here.” In other words, they’d won their reckless battle. The silence that naturally came between them ended when Shizuku’s attention drifted toward the two books. “Erik, are those…?” “Yeah. I think we have no choice but to dispose of them. We wouldn’t want anyone getting hold of them. We can’t do anything about the third one, since it’s on another continent, but judging by what’s been recorded so far, destroying these two books won’t cause the information in them to transfer to the third.” “Then should we burn them right away?” “Yeah, probably. They’re too bulky to walk around with.” Erik looked into Shizuku’s eyes. Once she gave him a silent nod, he placed his hand over the stacked books. A magic spell poured down, and the two books slowly began to burn. Before long, only ashes in the shape of the books were left. Erik offered Shizuku his hand. “Can you stand?” “Yeah.” “I’ll open a teleportation gate. Let’s head back to the castle.” His gentle voice sounded comfortingly familiar and brought a bittersweet smile to Shizuku’s face. She glanced around the hall. “Before we leave… Is the king still inside the castle? I want to tell him something about the books.” “He should be. He’s probably on the top floor.” “I’ll be back in a minute, then.” Shizuku stepped into the hallway with Mea. Without hesitation, Erik joined her and stood by her side. The pair took each other by the hand and started strolling down the gently curving corridor. “It…feels strange that it’s all over,” said Shizuku. “It feels like my mind’s gone blank.” “That’s because the tension’s gone from your body. You must be exhausted. You should have a long rest when we get back.” “I’ll probably wake up with sore muscles.” It was no longer dark outside the windows. When Shizuku saw the clear blue sky, she smiled. Erik gazed at Shizuku’s side profile. She looked like she’d been set free. “When we get back to Farsas, my contract will almost be up. Why don’t we visit another country?” “Oh, that reminds me! Is it true that the waters in the south are crystal clear? That’s what Mea told me.” “Apparently. I’ve never seen them with my own eyes, though. If you’re interested in taking a look, we can head down south.” There was a gentle breeze. The little bird on Shizuku’s shoulder chirped, and she reached out to stroke Mea’s back. The breeze wafted Shizuku’s loose hair upward, revealing the part of the cloak underneath it. Without saying a word, Erik stared at the hole in her back that the witch’s attack had left. Shizuku gathered her disheveled hair together using only her hands. “Were you the one who healed my wounds, Erik?” she asked. “Yes.” “Thank you.” Eventually, the staircase at the end of the corridor came into view. There was nobody else in the hallway. Shizuku squeezed Erik’s hand tighter, then came to a stop. Erik glanced over his shoulder, and she smiled at him. All of the answers had been inside her. She’d already known that, but just hadn’t been able to remember. After all, if those memories came back to her, she wouldn’t have been able to keep it a secret any longer. “Erik… When did you realize…that I’m the interlopers’ cursed artifact?” That was a secret she was no longer able to keep. The news that the witch had been defeated reached Medial Castle via the nation’s army, which was still engaged in battle. As cheers erupted inside the meeting room, Ortea let out a small sigh and rose to her feet. Hoping to put the tense atmosphere behind her, the queen stepped into the hallway without any attendants accompanying her. One man, however, followed her out. When Ortea turned around, the man bowed deeply. “Your Majesty, Queen of Kisk… I apologize for my rudeness the other day.” “The other day? Oh, you’re the prime minister of Medial.” When Shizuku had gone missing a few days prior, she’d sent Niké to confront this man. Shiron had gone pale in response to the queen’s frosty gaze, and he offered her an apology. “I had no idea that girl had been one of your close aides… I interrogated her, thinking she might know where to find my stolen family treasure. Not only that, but I did something awful to her even though she was still alive… I can’t apologize enough. But please, make sure that I’m the only one who’s held accountable…” “Just forget it. Shizuku was fine. I don’t wish to create any more commotion over this.” Ortea waved her fan in a show of annoyance, making Shiron lower his head even further. As she gazed at the back of his head, a spark of curiosity struck the queen, prompting her to ask a question of her own. “What was that family treasure? Has it not been found yet?” “Well, I heard it was in the witch’s possession…but it doesn’t matter now. There must be something ominous about the Immortal Toad that Recounts History. From now on, I’ll put it out of my mind.” “An immortal toad?” The witch had possessed a book that recounted events from history—not a toad. Still…the concept sounded oddly familiar. Ortea thought to herself for a moment, and then it clicked. A similar tale had featured in one of Shizuku’s picture books. Stories about talking animals didn’t exist in Ortea’s world, so she’d been convinced it was a fairy tale from another one. A breeze flowed between the two of them. Shizuku no longer felt any icy coldness in the wind, likely because sunlight had begun to shine through. Erik had been staring at Shizuku in silence. Finally, he began to speak in a monotonous voice. “I first realized it when I saw your picture book in Medial. When I read the story about the toad that knew all of history…it raised some questions. My suspicions grew more distinct when you were rescued from the snow. It was strange that you hadn’t died, considering how long you’d been outside. The prime minister of Medial confirmed that you were dead, which is why he discarded you in the forest. Just as I began to suspect there was something unusual about you, Lera told me that the story from the picture book originated from Medial.” “Yeah. That toad is my predecessor. It’s the core and true form of the cursed artifact… The three books serve as external records and amplification devices.” Shizuku brushed her long hair aside. There was a hole in the back of her clothes. Aviella’s attack had undeniably pierced her heart, yet Shizuku hadn’t died. She was never going to die, even if she sustained injuries and lost blood. Yet that was only natural. After all, from the very beginning, she’d been “an immortal cursed tool.” Erik had sealed up her wounds despite knowing this. The mage let out a weary sigh. “It didn’t take much to figure it out. The one thing that linked the cursed tools was spoken language. It’s abnormal for records to exist solely in written form; unlike spoken language, written characters vary depending on the country and era. They’re something that people from this continent created.” Why had history been recorded in the books using characters that humans had created? The answer was simple—there was more to the cursed artifacts than just those books. Shizuku smiled bitterly and shrugged her shoulders. “You’re always so quick to figure things out… In its truest form, the cursed artifact is a storyteller—a being capable of reading all three books. That’s how it continues to recount what it’s learned. It’s only natural that I can speak your world’s language, because the core of the cursed artifacts lies within me.” Shizuku placed a hand on her warm chest and closed her eyes. Something that wasn’t her lived deep inside her soul. She could sense it now. Erik watched her black eyelashes tremble and frowned. “When did you remember that? Did you know from the very beginning?” “No. It just came back to me a moment ago. When I tried to manipulate the witch’s mind, I thought Oh, I’m able to control this book. Once I realized that, everything came back to me. I remembered why I was brought to this world…” It had all started with a battle in the desert. After passing through several pairs of human hands, the stolen toad was discovered by the Cursed Artifact of This World. This artifact, made to observe the continent, was opposed by another, created by the world to stop it from interfering. From the moment they met, these two conflicting beings engaged in fierce combat. Eventually, their conflict reached the desert, where the toad was ultimately killed. After checking that the toad was dead, the Cursed Artifact of This World left the desert to heal from the severe injuries it had sustained in battle. However, even with the toad dead, its core retained a glimmer of strength. As a result, it had opened up a hole, hoping to find a new host within which it could lie dormant and regain its power. “It seems like humans from other worlds make better hosts than people from this one. If a human from this world assumed that role, their soul could have gotten sucked into the core… But since the makeup of my soul is different, there’s no chance of the soul forgetting its true nature. The core manipulated my memories to make me forget it had become one with me, then fell into a slumber to recover its power.” Shizuku remembered a cold power entering her in that hole between worlds. In that moment, she’d gained an understanding of everything…and just forgotten it all. Aviella must have recognized Shizuku’s true nature when her mind had been interfered with. She’d been repulsed and rejected her, realizing that Shizuku wasn’t a human being challenging fate, but an impudent observer from outside her world. What Simila had said was true: She was, without a doubt, an abnormal thorn that needed to be eliminated. As Shizuku calmly explained herself, Erik checked to make sure he was on the same page. “So the epidemic that led to the loss of innate language skills was the result of the cursed artifact’s powers weakening in that battle? And the children in the castle were able to speak again because the cursed artifact regained some of its strength during its slumber… Is that right?” “Yeah. At this rate, it’ll recover completely, making it possible to regain control over the continent’s language. By that point, it might be able to emerge from my body and move freely, but since the core is already affixed to my soul, I could die if it gets pulled away.” “I doubt the cursed artifact would kill you. If it leaves your body, it’s at greater risk of getting destroyed.” Erik gazed out the window with his deep-blue eyes. Suppressing all the emotions he was carrying, his calm voice echoed down the long corridor. “From the cursed artifact’s perspective, a human’s lifetime passes in the blink of an eye. I’m sure you could continue living the way you are.” With these words, he was attempting to offer her some hope. Erik had probably been the first person to realize the truth about everything. Yet he’d chosen to protect Shizuku. He believed that Lars would kill her if he discovered that she herself was the cursed artifact, so he’d lied and said she was just being manipulated by the book. When Shizuku’s memories had returned, all the examples of how he’d cared for her came into focus. As grateful as she was, she knew she could never repay him for everything she’d put him through. Shizuku closed her eyes and smiled. She squeezed the hand that was holding hers. “You have nothing to worry about,” he told her. “Just live your own life. A cursed artifact would never inflict harm on someone directly. It’ll probably limit your actions, so returning to your old world might not be a possibility…but there’s a place for you here, too.” Erik reached out, stroking Shizuku’s hair with the large palm of his hand. Its warmth brought Shizuku to the verge of tears, so she pursed her lips together to suppress them. Back in the library where they’d met, all she’d done was cry. They’d met purely by coincidence, yet he’d never attempted to abandon her. Not even now, when it went against his principles. If Erik claimed she could carry on living in his world, he had to be telling the truth. Maybe she could live a peaceful life in a small town somewhere. For a moment, Shizuku found herself envisioning such a future. “Thank you so much… I really mean it.” Shizuku was frustrated that this was the only reply she could muster. She let go of the hand she was holding and lowered her head in a deep bow. When she raised her head again, she stared at the man before her. Words were restrictive. She could only get a small part of her message across. She didn’t know any other way of communicating, though. And it was words—as restrictive as they were—that had linked the two of them together. She was more than happy with that. Shizuku held out her fingers for Mea. Once Mea had fluttered over from her shoulder to sit on them, she turned her hand toward the window. “Thanks, Mea.” The little bird left Shizuku’s hand and settled on the windowpane. When Mea cocked her head slightly, Shizuku smiled at her and took a step back. She spread her empty arms out wide. “Wait, Shizuku…!” When he sensed what Shizuku was trying to do, Erik’s face fell. He reached out for her, trying to grab hold of her open arms—but just as he was about to touch her, Shizuku used her power to vanish from sight without even needing a spell. Once upon a time, the whole world had spoken the same language. That had all changed when people began building a tower to the heavens, incurring God’s wrath. If God’s decision to jumble up the languages was the thing that granted them their freedom, then this continent was still a sandbox—a miniature garden to be watched over, from which no one could escape. That is, until people noticed that deception and rejected it… Having teleported to the top floor of the castle, Shizuku looked out through the crumbled walls. The land around the castle was vast and dry, but with the miasma gone, the sky was clear and blue. She was moved by the vivid color. Shizuku smiled, holding onto her hair fluttering in the breeze. She couldn’t see the army fighting the remaining demons from where she stood, but she was sure things were going smoothly. In fact, she couldn’t see a single demonic spirit in the sky. Shizuku breathed in the cold, clean air, causing a small twinge of pain deep inside her lungs. “—What are you playing at? How did you get here?” The voice behind her belonged to a man she knew well. Shizuku turned around, her bittersweet gaze directed toward the floor. She went and stood in front of the king, who seemed sluggish. “Oh, King Lars. Are you hurt?” “It’s already healed. I sent Silfa back to Lettie, though.” “You sent her back? How are you going to get home without the spirit to help you? Are you going to use the stairs again?” “Lettie will come and fetch me, no doubt. Until then, I’ll just stare at the view or something.” Lars leaned against the crumbled throne, feigning indifference. The king had taken matters into his own hands since setting foot in the castle, so Shizuku didn’t know what he’d been up to, but the collapsed floors gave her a clue. She averted her gaze from the deep, slanted hole in the ground. “Could I have a word with you while you’re waiting, then?” she asked. “What is it? Did you screw up somehow?” Lars was unshakeable, regardless of the situation. He refused to let her off the hook. If he were any different, though, Shizuku wouldn’t have been able to confront him like this. In that sense, his personality might have been a small blessing. She looked up into his blue eyes and smiled. “King Lars, the truth is, I was the cursed artifact all along.” If she’d remembered the truth when she first arrived in this world, she never could have come to this conclusion. She’d have cried, screamed, and curled up into a ball, confused and helpless. Now, though, she could stand on her own two feet. She could stand there and make a choice. That was everything. “…A cursed artifact? You?” “Yes. It came back to me. I’m the true cursed artifact, in charge of the three books. I’m a cradle for it, brought to this world from another so it could hide its core. My memories of that were just sealed away…and the core of the cursed artifact is attached to my soul.” The king frowned as he looked down at Shizuku, likely struggling to grasp this revelation. She tried desperately to stop her voice from shaking, though the complete lack of kindness in his eyes gave her a sense of relief. Why her? Why had she ended up in this reality? If she’d never encountered that portal, she could have lived a quiet life in her old world. Nothing would have taken over her soul, and she wouldn’t have ended up in countless life-threatening situations. And yet… “What do you want me to do about it? What are you hoping for, as a vessel for the cursed artifact?” “I want you to kill me.” She was glad she’d come to this world. Shizuku clenched her trembling fists, determined to keep smiling. She didn’t want to cry. It would make her feel like this ending was defeat for her, which she didn’t want. Still, her throat was burning, and she couldn’t prevent her vision from going blurry. The thought of having to say goodbye to everything was just sad, no matter how she looked at it. She smiled at Lars, and he scowled as he watched the colorless tears trickle down from her black eyes. After letting out a sigh, however, he assumed a regal expression once again. “Is that really what you want?” “Yes.” She’d been made immortal. Not even the witch’s powers had been able to kill her. However, the royal sword was probably strong enough to destroy the cursed artifact. After all, Akashia was one of the few forces that could counteract the interlopers’ cursed artifacts. Shizuku had proof of that, too—at times, the core’s trepidation had filled her with fear of the royal sword. Once the artifact was destroyed, its long reign would end. Freed from the restraints of words, the people of the continent would regain the potential that had been stolen from them. History would continue to be woven, but it would no longer be mirrored in the pages of ominous books. As in any era, people would wrestle with hardship and pain, but now their gazes would remain firmly fixed on the future. Shizuku stared at her own hands. Erik claimed that from the cursed artifact’s perspective, a human lifetime passed in the blink of an eye—but he’d been wrong. Shizuku was already immortal. Being fused with it, she would wander the continent for all eternity. Once her mind had completely worn away, she’d become the “storyteller” itself—a tool for transmitting knowledge that had no will of its own. In that state, she would record and preserve history, while also maintaining the boundaries of language. She would surrender her mind and become a vessel. That wasn’t a future she was prepared to choose. In order to defend human dignity, she refused to let her own be compromised. It was through her journey that Shizuku had come to understand the importance of those things. “I’ll gladly accept our world’s lack of convenience over corruption from outside influence.” It was something Erik had once said to her—and his words had left their mark. Lars straightened his posture and drew Akashia. Moving slowly, he directed it toward her. His eyes, devoid of sorrow, were fixed on Shizuku. She simply faced the king the way she always had. “King Lars.” “What?” “I’m human.” That was her one point of pride she refused to concede. Her words earned a firm nod from Lars. “Yeah. You are human.” Satisfied with his response, Shizuku smiled. The light glinted off Lars’s sword, and he raised it. In her final moments, Shizuku let out a small sigh and closed her eyes. “—Shizuku!” A scream echoed from below the rubble. Erik had made his way up through the castle, and he swiftly began to chant, shooting an arrow of light toward the uppermost floor. As the king was about to bring his sword down, the arrow raced toward him at an alarming pace. When Lars noticed it, he immediately pulled back his sword to deflect the arrow—but just as it was about to hit Akashia, it darted in another direction, striking him in the wrist. There was a dull thud, and Akashia spun across the floor. The king scowled as he held onto the remains of his right hand—half of it had been gouged out. “That jerk…” “What are you doing?! Erik!” With a furious yell, Leuticia appeared. Seeing that her subordinate had attacked her brother, she lifted her pale right hand, enraged. The magic implement on Erik’s right ear shattered to pieces, and blood splattered across his cheek. Despite this, he didn’t glance back at Leuticia. Erik’s gaze was fixed solely on Shizuku. She’d picked up Akashia, which had slid across the floor. Clutching the heavy longsword, she retreated and stood with her back toward the hole in the outer wall. A slightly troubled, bittersweet smile crossed her face. She propped up the middle of the longsword with both hands, then pointed its tip toward her chest. Her dark eyes, teeming with unquenchable emotion, met Erik’s gaze. “Stop!” Now that his magic implement had been shattered, he had no magical energy to use. Yet there was something else he could rely on instead. Having come to a swift decision, he began to recite an incantation. It was a forbidden curse that would convert his soul into magical power. The color of Leuticia’s face changed once she realized what he was doing. There are always possibilities available to you, no matter where you find yourself. It’s human willpower that chooses whether or not to embrace them. The key is having something you hold dear to your heart. “Stop that, you idiot!” The forbidden spell was nullified. Her yell bounced off the walls. She blinked slowly. Distance separated them. Erik rushed up the rubble slope. All that laughter, all that adversity, it had been so much fun. It had made her so happy. Shizuku drove the blade of the cursed artifact-destroying sword into her own chest. As if retracing the witch’s condemnation, as if following the man’s lies, it plunged into her heart. The weapon fell onto the floor, seemingly unable to bear its own weight. Blood dripped from the wound. Shizuku caught her own blood in a blistered hand. When she looked up, she saw the man rushing toward her. He held out an arm, and she smiled. “Shizuku…!” His hand wouldn’t reach. She launched herself off the floor and leaped into the air. Ahh, thank you for always staying by my side. She was falling. Something deep inside her wound writhed around, attempting to heal it up. Sensing this movement, Shizuku gently closed her eyes.