Chapter 55

CHAPTER THREE Five Heroes Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 20:11 Shinjuku’s underground district. Darkness was buried in the depths of the Shinjuku underground. Here, a machine used the immortals as fuel to support the city—the Immortal Furnace. To keep this controversial fact hidden, the highly influential megacorporation IHMI restricted access to the underground. However, even more darkness spread despite the corporation’s wishes. The avenue known as the Roost, in the ruins of the underground district of the former Shinjuku ward. An unofficial area of Shinjuku City that used the underground prior to the Fantasion, and the ruins buried in it. Vagabonds without Familias, criminals unable to return to the surface, and members of the Yakuza Guild who conducted incognito shakedowns lived there. Needless to say, it was not a safe place. Not even the City Guard approached this area lightly. The back alleys of Kabukicho Street and Outer Shinjuku were full of danger at every corner, but from Emi’s point of view, this Roost was far seedier. “So this is the famous Roost…,” said Emi. “Heh. I’d heard of it, but it really is one spicy place. I’d received an inquiry about solving the beyondization here, and it is exactly where I expect the Collector to attack next. Let’s get it over with, yeah? Before the Collector creates another victim.” “You would have sounded so brave and gallant if only you weren’t clinging to my back…,” Veltol remarked. Emi was cowering behind Veltol and holding tight to his detective coat. “No, no, no, I’m not scared, okay? It’s just, you know how it is, right?” “Heh. Worry not; you have three veterans with you here. Any problem can be solved with violence. Simple, isn’t it?” “Yep. Love me some violence,” said Sihlwald. “Suggestion. I would appreciate if you don’t include me in your violent fantasies,” added Matoi. Visibility was limited in the Roost, as one would expect of the underground. Cords hung from the ceiling, and the light in the narrow corridor just barely let you see the face of the person next to you. There were plenty of dark spots just a few steps away. There were caution tape and blue tarps all over, people surrounding metal drum fires, and small shops with who-knows-what for sale under cover of darkness. Long, thin containers that were either merchandise or part of the surroundings—it was hard to tell—emitted cloying purple smoke. “Urgh, it reeks… This place stinks… This feels like the end of the line…,” Sihlwald grumbled while twitching her nose. The stagnation created crushing pressure that choked everyone present. The people passing by sped up in either fear or retreat. Chaos, gloom, and clutter. The vagabonds and clearly shady characters eyed the odd quartet with contempt. “It feels like we’re in a dungeon…,” Matoi remarked. She looked around and ran a visual scan, while Emi kept clinging to Veltol’s back. “Yeah, they say this used to be a dungeon,” Emi told her. “There’s no monsters anymore, but maybe they’re deeper in.” They made their way through the crowds. “So what is our destination like?” Matoi asked. “Sort of a haunted spot. Apparently, the beyondized subway station is called the Man-Eating Gyoen. This is actually my first time here, too, given the kind of place this is, but it should be around this area…” They arrived at a lifeless white building that was nothing like a subway or dungeon. “You’re the detective who’s gonna solve the beyondization?” came a hoarse voice from behind them. It was a stern-looking dwarf man wearing a gray robe. In place of his eyes was a visor implant, and his mouth was covered by a large gas mask; his expression was unreadable. “You could tell?” said Emi. “Well, your outfit says it all… But anyway, I’m your client. We coulda just left this place alone, but some idiots hear the rumors about how it’s haunted, and they come to test their courage or record videos and livestreams.” The dwarf furrowed his brow under the mask. “There’s an order to things, even here. We’re all a buncha black sheep who can’t leave, and some don’t wanna be bothered by outsiders visiting. So if you can do something about it, then be my guest. Do whatever it takes if it gets the job done. I’ll make sure you’re safe going in and outta the Roost.” “But not inside the Roost?” Veltol asked. The dwarf nodded. “Sorry, can’t do nothin’ about that. The dangers of the underground ain’t like the dangers of the Roost. You can get in and get out easily if you go alone, but…” “But?” “If you go in with multiple people, one of ’em disappears once you leave. That thing eats you. Everyone says they went in with somebody else, but they were gone when they came back.” “One person disappears… That must be this beyondization’s quirk.” Emi held her chin in thought while still clinging to Veltol. “I’ll have the young’uns wait by the entrance. Tell them once you’re out, and I’ll send you the money.” “Okay, that’s fine,” the dwarf replied. “Fellas, let’s do this. We’ll be done in no time.” “…Are you sure…? Okay, it’s in your hands now…,” said Veltol. The dwarf turned around and disappeared into the crowd. “Question. How exactly does one solve beyondization?” “Good question, my dear Matoi. Let me ask you a question of my own: How do you think we can solve the Man-Eating Gyoen, which is this job’s goal?” “Unclear. My memory does not contain data on confronting beyondization.” “It’s very simple.” Emi raised a finger. “Reveal the truth.” “The truth?” “Beyondizations other than simple spatial distortion have a cause, a process, a reason, a characteristic, a nature to them. Some are unable to keep their power once their core is revealed. It’s just like how mysteries weaken once you know the basis for them; if you find out a ghost was actually your shadow or a tree, you’ll no longer be scared.” “Which means solving the mystery of the Man-Eating Gyoen is the key?” “Exactly. Let’s go, then. And watch out for that thing about one person disappearing.” “Will you keep on hanging onto my coat or will you learn some dignity?” “Look here, Assistant. Look at all the dignity oozing out of my hand.” “Eugh, that’s sweat, you wimp! Okay, move! On with it!” The rambunctious group entered the Man-Eating Gyoen—the location of their job and the predicted next crime scene of the Collector. The emergency door on the pure-white wall was the entrance to the beyondization. It was a long, dark hallway. White, square tiles covered the floor, fitted with guidance tiles for the visually impaired. White lights hung from the ceiling at regular intervals, illuminating the black and yellow signs reading MARUNOUCHI LINE and OEDO LINE. It was a reproduction of the subway corridors of Shinjuku before the Fantasion. “Hmm? What the—? Isn’t this bigger on the inside?” Sihlwald said. “Spatial contradictions between the interior and exterior are a characteristic of beyondization. The beyondized former Shinjuku Station also has an impossibly long escalator.” Emi paused. “Anyway, was there a sort of membrane in the entrance?” Emi’s magi-eye let her see the flow of mana in the air. It picked up a thin, translucent film. “Yes. I couldn’t see it, but I felt it,” said Veltol. “My sensors showed a small reaction, too, but I could not analyze it,” said Matoi. “I had no idea!” said Sihlwald. The four continued walking, but only Emi kept staring at the Roost’s entrance behind them. There was a spatial contradiction compared to the outside of the Man-Eating Gyoen. It was a common spatial disturbance seen in beyondization. The same background continued no matter how long they walked. Faint white shadows would sometimes pass by, and murmurs would sound in the infinite hallways. “Creepy… What are those noises?” Sihlwald asked. “Ghosts,” said Emi. “Ghosts, eh…? Hard to tell what kind of ghost, since there’s so many.” “Beyondization tends to occur in places with stagnant aether. Fear, rumors, and thoughts pile up like sediment, and they manifest as pseudo-mysteries. This place took on the shape of the subway, and the aether created ghosts out of the lingering thoughts. By the way, we call strong, malicious lingering thoughts wraiths or specters,” Emi explained with a smug look on her face, while still holding on to Veltol. “Wait,” Veltol said. Once they left the accessway toward the ticket gates, a noise echoed from afar. “Stay back, Emi.” He pushed her away. “Something’s coming,” Sihlwald said. “Distance: fifty…ten!” Matoi exclaimed. The noise turned into thunder. The wall ahead on the right-hand side burst. Two shadows jumped from the other side. One was a fox therian with a single blue eye, their body wrapped in bandages and dressed in clerical vestments. The other was a humanoid black magi-gear with a black greatsword. The black MG swung its sword, and the therian repelled it. “Who are these people?!” “Those two freaks are fighting!” Veltol and Sihlwald were shocked at the odd pair they had never seen before. “I knew you’d be here…Mom…!” “That’s the MG from this morning!” Emi and Matoi, who had seen these two figures before, cried out. The MG seemed to have the overwhelming advantage. An MG was too powerful for a human to fight to begin with. Some superhumans were able to stand toe to toe with certain MGs, but they were extremely rare; a single individual could not defeat an MG. The MG’s greatsword sliced Emilia’s arm, yet bandages stretched out of the stump and formed a new arm in its place. “Damn… Why won’t even an immortal slayer kill her?!” the MG pilot spat in a robotic voice as he and Emilia clashed. He turned the MG’s head toward Emi’s group, and its visor’s sensors caught sight of them. “Ah! You’re the girls from this morning! You should leave now! The place is beyondized, and we’re in the middle of a…fight…” Its voice quieted down. “That hair… Those eyes… That face… You’re…?” His eyes under the helmet opened wide; it was clear he was looking at one particular man. “Hm? Do you know me?” Veltol asked. “Finally, I found you. You will die here…!” The MG pilot’s mouth clearly twisted into a smile. “VELTOOOL!” The small MG activated its shoulder and hip thrusters, raised the greatsword above its shoulder, and ignored Emilia to charge straight at Veltol. “Whoa?! He’s coming, Assistant!” “What’s with this guy?!” Sihlwald exclaimed. “Let me kill you, Veltol!” Meanwhile, Veltol donned his black armor with a practiced motion and activated a spell. “I have no idea what this is about, but… Gradschere!” Two swords clashed, and sparks flew. “Who are you?!” “Didn’t the silver-haired woman tell you?! Zenol! I’m Zenol!” “You?! You claim to be Zenol?! Perfect! I shall see from your swordsmanship whether you are the real thing or not!” The MG increased its output. The two fighters destroyed the ticket gates as they jumped backward. “Assistant!” Emi’s voiced echoed through the Man-Eating Gyoen. “Dammit! I finally get to see you in person, and now my head is buzzing! You will die so I can get back my peace of mind, Veltol!” “Consider yourself fortunate, fool! You will be my next plaything!” The Demon Lord and the Swordman reached the beyondized subway platform after crashing through multiple walls. It was impossible to tell what station this beyondized subway formed by communal subconscious was based on. Perhaps it never existed in the first place. The foes faced each other on opposite sides of the train tracks. “I am certain of it now.” “Yeah? Of what?” “You are not the Zenol I know. You cannot be.” “Uh-huh.” “Considering Marcus’s betrayal, I felt the same might have happened to Zenol… But I see now that was an insult to his loyalty.” A warning about the doors closing sounded as a train ran between them. Present-day Shinjuku had no subways, per underground development restrictions. This train, too, was produced by the beyondization. The train’s doors opened, and refrains of illusions of commuters passed by as the two foes entered the train from opposing doors. They were within reach of each other. “Scoundrel tainting the name of my loyal subject, I shall rid you of the weight of that name, along with your head!” “All this damn noise in my head—it’s because of you! Just die!” The two swung their weapons at the same time. Veltol’s Gradschere and Zenol’s gunsword clashed. The aether impact caused a blast, and the thunderous burst of mana shook the train’s cramped interior. With each of the following clashes, the resulting pressure cut the handrails, wrecked the seats, and blew away the hand straps as though a storm had blown through the vehicle. “Dell Ray!” A black flash shot out from Veltol’s hand, and Zenol parried it with his blade as he kept charging. A thought occurred to Veltol as he crossed swords with the man claiming to be Zenol: He is strong. The MG was only the size of full body armor, yet it overwhelmed the power of an Ashed Dawn, the large fourth-gen MG Veltol had fought once before. And the pilot’s skill complemented the MG’s power. After the fight in Yokohama, Machina had told Veltol about the person in armor calling himself Zenol, and now that he faced him, he was sure of it: This was not him. But still…! This man’s swordsmanship was vastly different to the strongest swordsman of the Immortal Kingdom and the mentor of Veltol himself. Zenol was a master of all martial arts, but in swordsmanship in particular, nobody in the Immortal Kingdom could surpass him. He wielded a sword his size with the levity of a twig and slayed a dragon with a hunting dagger. Veltol had seen his sword close at hand for a long time. He could never mistake it—and thus he was confused by the contradiction. The man before his eyes could not possibly be Zenol, yet his swordsmanship was that of Zenol. “You will die here, Veltol!” “I am curious about what you’re hiding behind your helmet. I shall tear it off and see for myself!” “Just try! If I don’t kill you first, that is!” Zenol’s camera-eyes lit up. “Festinalente, boot up!” For only a moment, red circuitry-like light ran across the entire black MG. Then Zenol moved, and Veltol could not keep up. He saw a slash. He felt a cut. “…!” The blade of Zenol’s turret-equipped greatsword glowed, then slashed Veltol from his shoulder to his side, soul armament and all. The mana produced by the slash blew Veltol away. He smashed through the gangways of three cars before landing after he recovered his balance in the air. His skin showed from the cuts in his armor, and blood dripped from his wounds. My regeneration is slow. His sword…or rather, the blade…emanates mana with immortal-slaying power. That is not a big problem in and of itself, but his speed is another thing entirely. And not only has that increased, but so has his reaction speed… This new power is interesting. Now, how shall I conquer it? “Tsk, I used up all my shots on that damn mummy. What a waste,” Zenol said while charging in from the next subway car, cutting short Veltol’s train of thought. The red light was gone from Zenol’s armor, and his speed had lessened. “Veltol…I can’t stand you!” “You should have taken me down with the first strike. You no longer have a chance of defeating me!” The choices were made at the same time. “Rampage in the black sky…” “Ooze in the shadowy prison…” Upon chanting the short incantations, they summoned: “Verna—” “Zeno—” It happened just before they freed the armaments in their souls. Multiple coincidences occurred—or perhaps it was fate. In this beyondization—a place of aether stagnation—where Veltol’s and Zenol’s mental wavelengths converged from the heat of battle, almost exactly when they unleashed their armaments, these two souls were momentarily linked through the aether. “Al.” A vision of a memory. “Altol.” A memory of the long, ancient past. A memory of before the Demon Lord became immortal. “Altol, my sweet child…” The old memory flowed like a flood from past to future. “Good morning, Your Highness Altol Altemud Velsvalt.” “Altol the White Wind. I heard the news. You accomplished a wonderful victory in battle again?” “I’d be so elated if you became king, Big Brother.” “I wouldn’t argue if Dad gave you the throne. You’re a stellar little brother.” “You would call me, an immortal servant, your friend…?” “Father! Why not me?! Why did you choose a bastard?!” “Should I do you the same as that Velvet manservant?” “From Altol the White Wind to Veltol the Black Wind. Excellent, isn’t it?” “We’ll start with my first request. You shall revere me as your elder sister.” “From now on, I will serve you as your Dark Sword, Zenol.” “Very well. I, Ralsheen, shall help you so long as you keep me entertained.” “Y-your humble Marcus would be honored to serve you for liiife!” “Yes. Even if my body turns to ash, I will serve you.” “Create a world where we can stand side by side… Yes, that would be…wonderful.” These recollections were followed by crossed memories from the resonance of souls. Veltol and Zenol saw the same memory at the same time. Month of the Kraken, Day 26, 1596 CE The throne chamber of the subterranean Demon Castle’s inverted keep. Six people waited among overlapping aether lines, in a passageway where aether sprang forth from the planet. One of them, a half-therian with handsome, masculine features, had a small, vertical cut next to his lips. He closed his eyes and awaited his master’s arrival. “Duke Zenol.” The half-therian man’s wolflike ears twitched at the voice. The speaker was a human with bluish-black hair, holding a pewter staff. “Duke Ralsheen…,” Zenol said, looking at the man who called his name. The Blue Storm. All Six Dark Peers were of equal standing officially, but as Ralsheen aided in his master’s rule as chancellor, he was in reality the Immortal Kingdom’s number two. “May I ask a question?” Ralsheen’s voice was quiet. “Why did you not kill yourself?” But pregnant with anger. “You understand well that mobilizing the Order without royal command is out of the question. An unforgivable act. We are not lawless beasts, are we?” “Excuse me, Duke Ralsheen…,” replied a girl with silver hair, the Duchess of the Dazzling Blaze. Her gaze held a sense of duty. Sihlwald the Black Dragon yawned, uninterested. May of the Mournful Firmament gazed into space, her mind on something else. Marcus of the Bloody Arts looked down, shaking. Machina felt she needed to stop this conflict if none of her other colleagues were going to do anything. The responsibility was reflected in the look in her eyes. “Duke Zenol acted for the sake of Lord Veltol and this country, and he—” “Duchess Machina.” Ralsheen spoke softly, in great contrast to his tone with Zenol. “Even if it is for the sake of the country or its king, mobilizing the Order of the Karmic Sword without our lord’s permission is unbefitting of its leader. If we create a precedent for breaking protocol in the name of the king, His Majesty will lose all authority. Duke Zenol’s punishment is necessary for the sake of this country.” “That is…true, but—” “It’s fine, Duchess Machina.” Zenol, too, spoke softly to her. “I understand. I have no intention of excusing my behavior. I will accept the punishment. I never considered asking His Majesty for forgiveness.” “Then, as I asked at the beginning, why did you not kill yourself? We may be immortal, but constant dying wears our souls out. You could have thrown yourself into the fire. You should have welcomed near-endless pain.” “I am His Majesty’s sword, his possession; only he can end me. I have not the freedom to make that decision on my own. Only he does.” “You dare say that now…?” Ralsheen sighed. “Fine. Then I shall personally put you down. We couldn’t possibly bother Lord Veltol with this.” The Blue Storm raised his staff. “Only His Majesty may judge me. And if anyone dares lay a hand on His Majesty’s property, it is my job to stop them.” The Karmic Sword reached for the handle of the sword on his side. “Foolish Duke Zenol… You pile sin upon sin?” “Duke Ralsheen, if you will not stand back, I will take you on.” True enmity clashed between Dark Peers. Sharp tension crossed the throne chamber. Machina asked the others for assistance. “L-Lady Sihlwald, help me stop them!” “Hnn? Let them do as they please.” “May, please, do something!” “No… Leave them be. Although Veltol will get mad if they get the chamber dirty.” Frowning, Machina gave up and cast Marcus a glance, just in case. The red vampire kept looking down and shaking. “Lord Veltol doesn’t wish for you two to fight! Please calm—” Machina spoke up, feeling there was no one but her to do something, when… “Everyone.” …May’s small but clear voice sounded. “Veltol is here.” At the same time, a black wind blew. The sultry aether in the chamber cooled down in an instant. The animosity between Ralsheen and Zenol vanished immediately. But not of their own wills—and everyone present understood. The door of the throne chamber opened with a heavy creak. Everyone naturally kneeled toward the throne and lowered their heads. Veltol’s armor rustled, and his shoes tapped as he gallantly walked by the Six Dark Peers and up to the throne. He sat and glanced down at the bowing Peers. “Now.” With just a word, the pressure on the Six Dark Peers grew exponentially heavier. It was the Demon Lord’s black power. The essence of the Demon Lord in his prime, covering all Alnaeth in fear. “Zenol, Duke of the Karmic Sword.” “Yes, my lord!” “Your punishment has been decided. If there is anything you would like to say, do so now.” “No, there is nothing for my part. But I would like to make one thing clear.” “And that is?” “Everything was done under my judgment. My subordinates act per my orders, and I would like to request you not charge them for their crimes.” “Very well.” “I am honored by your mercy, my lord.” “Let us begin the execution of Zenol, Duke of the Karmic Sword.” Veltol summoned the black sword of Vernal with a short incantation and transformed it into the silver sword of Vernal Diel. Demon Lord Veltol’s silver sword could slash through souls and execute immortals. Veltol walked up to Zenol and placed the blade on his neck. “Any last words, Zenol?” “No… No, I mean—yes. One thing.” “Speak.” “Please fulfill our wish: the foundation of the Eonian Kingdom.” “Granted. I shall see to it. Zenol, let us reunite at the zenith of rebirth.” A voice sounded the moment before he swung the immortal-slaying blade: “W-wait, my king…” Marcus raised his head and ceased his trembling. “Marcus. I allow you to speak…but think very well before you do.” Veltol’s glare pierced through him. It was only a gaze. Yet it was enough for Marcus’s breath to turn sharp and fast. “D-D-D-D-Duke Zenol deserves to be punished. However…” Marcus gulped. He kept his glance down as he continued shakily: “But his actions came from true loyalty valued above his own life… I would like for you to please consider a merciful sanction…” It was not Veltol, but Ralsheen who answered. “Duke Marcus, you are wise enough to understand, but it appears you did not listen to what I talked about with Machina moments ago. If he truly acted out of loyalty, he could not possibly ignore His Majesty’s will. Besides, Duke Zenol has accepted the punishment. What else is needed?” “Duke Ralsheen is right. My actions meant betrayal against His Majesty. I have no reservations about receiving the punishment.” Even then, Marcus showed no intention of backing down. “To me, the Immortal Kingdom means my immortal kinsmen themselves.” “And?” Veltol said coldly. “And Duke Zenol is like this country’s heart, essential to building the coming age of the immortals. Please… Please spare him by taking my life instead.” “Duke Marcus?!” Zenol’s eyes widened in shock. Everyone’s did. Even Sihlwald looked surprised. “No,” Veltol replied immediately. “You cannot be a substitute for him. And Zenol cannot be a substitute for you. Refrain, Marcus.” “Then…” Marcus gulped. Strong will glowed in his eyes. “Then…after Duke Zenol falls by your hand…I will fall by my own.” Not only were Zenol, Ralsheen, and the other Peers taken aback by what he said, but even Veltol could not hide his surprise. “…Why go that far, Marcus?” “As I said, Duke Zenol is essential to building the coming age of the immortals. Losing someone who cares as much for this nation as him will be a great loss for the nation’s future. I have no other intent. That is all.” Marcus’s hands touched the floor, still shaking. Only his eyes as he looked at Veltol remained strong. A will of strong, pure faithfulness that had overcome all fear and hatred. “Hahh…” Veltol sighed and returned his sword to his soul. “I cannot lose two of my Six Dark Peers. I shall forgive your crime of independent action in ending the child of prophecy. In the end, it was only an issue of my own pride. However, I cannot overlook your crime of mobilizing the Order without my command. That is inexcusable as its leader. You will be dismissed from the Order of the Karmic Sword. Myneus shall take over. You will be in confinement before being assigned as sword of the guard. That is all. Notify Myneus.” “Yes, my lord!” Zenol bowed deeply. “Marcus.” “Y-yes!” “You’ve turned crafty, taking yourself as hostage.” “I—I am overwhelmed by your praise!” “Your determination smoothed things over this time, but that will not be happening again. And you, too, are part of the blood that fuels the Immortal Kingdom. Do not forget that.” “…Yes! Thank you, my lord!” The Demon Lord left the throne chamber. Marcus kept his head low until Veltol was gone. “Duke Marcus…I must apologize,” said Zenol. “It’s all right. I meant what I said. The king still needs you.” “…Why did you suggest taking your own life?” “Why?” Marcus wore a smile torn by nerves and exhaustion, but still frank. “Aren’t we friends?” He left the throne chamber on unsteady feet. Then Zenol walked up to Ralsheen. “Ral… I…I have…” “You seem to be under the wrong impression. I do not hate or begrudge you, Zeno. You’re my dear friend and a reliable comrade, honestly.” Ralsheen’s voice was calm, although Zenol could not look him in the eye. “I simply prioritized my status as His Majesty’s subject over our friendship,” he continued. “That’s all. I thought there was no fitting punishment other than death, but His Majesty has given his judgment. I have no right or desire to say more. Congratulations on being assigned sword of the guard. Now then, Zeno. I must leave.” “…I’ll go with you, Ral.” They walked side by side out of the throne chamber. The Dazzling Blaze, the Black Dragon, and the Blue Storm watched them go. “So are they buddies or enemies?” Sihlwald asked. “I think they’re buddies. Although it is a messy friendship,” Machina said. “Good thing our friendship isn’t messy, right?” said May. Right before Zenol departed the throne room, he glimpsed May grabbing Machina’s hands tight. Veltol and Zenol smiled the same smile from different places. The crossing of memories finished, and their consciousnesses returned to the present. “Was that…?” Veltol said to himself. “Zenol’s memories…?” Veltol was sure the man before his eyes had seen the same thing. Their souls synchronized, a feeling he had only felt enough times to count on one hand across his long life. It occurred over just one second in reality, but his mind being taken off the battle was lethal. Yet the enemy took no advantage of it. “You saw that, too…?” Zenol was equally paralyzed. “I… I…!” He covered his face with one hand and glared at the Demon Lord from between his fingers. “Who…are you…?” “I… That’s…that’s what I want to know!” Zenol vanished via teleportation magic. “Ahh, there’s still more! There’s more even here! So much more!” Emilia cried. “Mom!” Right after Veltol and Zenol smashed through the ticket gates, Matoi switched her priority to protecting Emi. “Stay back, Emi!” Emilia charged toward her daughter, a magi-eye owner. Matoi ran a scan on the Collector that she wasn’t able to that morning. No immortal factor detected. Causality interference measurement: 100. Emi’s deduction was right. The Collector was also involved in the future of doom. “Leave iiit! To meee!” Sihlwald twirled in the air and built up momentum for a kick. “Wait, Sihlwald!” Matoi cried. “We must capture her first!” “Huh?” Matoi was too late. The kick buried into Emilia’s torso, bending her body and spinning her until she was split in two. Her upper half left a crater when it crashed into the wall. “…Oops, I killed her.” “S-Sihlwald?!” “Negative. It’s not over.” The Collector was not dead. Bandages stretched from both halves of her body and put them back together. Few vertebrates could survive being torn apart. This meant… “Hmm? She’s immortal?” said Emi. It was the logical answer. But Matoi and Sihlwald furrowed their brows. “Something is wrong…” “Yeah… She didn’t feel like an immortal.” “My scan didn’t detect an immortal factor… She can’t be.” “Then how did she regenerate? Is it the bandages…?” Emilia took heavy step after heavy step forward. The crater in the wall was gone, too. Even the smashed ticket gates were back to normal. “Footsteps of the coffin! Grail of the cross! Ahh, my calling! To project the truth of the eyes of the Horodict! You shall see, you shall witness, you shall be enraptured!” Sihlwald frowned at Emilia’s nonsense. “Ugh, what’s with this woman…?” “Mom!” Emi stepped forward as if to stop Emilia. All of a sudden, Emilia covered her face with both hands. “Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” She scratched her face while cackling. “Hey, I don’t think capturing her will be of any use if she can’t hold a conversation. What now, Matoi?” Sihlwald asked. “Either way, we must neutralize her. No matter the cost.” Emilia bent over and tightened her legs as though they were the string of a bow. “Gahee!” She dashed like an arrow. Matoi snapped her fingers to create a weapon out of the iron pole beside her with Metal Rule. However… “Huh?” …the pole showed no change. Her idea circuit recognized the activation of Metal Rule. Yet there was no result. And she had no time to investigate why. She snapped her fingers again and grabbed her other arm with Gulagalad. “Ferrueh Merza!” A silver sickle appeared. Matoi’s magiroid frame was also made of metal. She turned her arm’s frame into a weapon. Part of a sickle unified with the arm that protruded from her skincover. “Shove! Love! Void! Glove! Unlove…” Emilia kept spouting nonsense while Matoi sprinted to neutralize her. Emilia was emptyhanded. Matoi raised her weapon. Her foe was too slow. Cut, cut, cut, cut. Four spots. Even a high-level immortal could not recover quickly from having all limbs sliced by an immortal slayer forged by a god. Emilia was supposed to be neutralized. But just as the bandages did before, they took human form and healed her. “She is not a regular immortal…,” Matoi mused. “My friend from the future.” Again, out of nowhere. “…!” Matoi was paralyzed for a moment as Emilia spoke to her softly. “I respect you. You travel from so far away and do not regret paying the price with your life. You are already shining bright.” “How did you know I’m from the future? What else do you know?” “Everything.” “Everything?” “Everything about the process of this doom. But that is beyond the infinite, and I am missing a fragment. Next time. Next time is the last. This is the end of the invisible doom.” “Next is the last…? What do you—?” “Let us meet again.” Matoi’s sensors detected teleportation.