“Belstet, I leave this place to you. No matter what, hold your ground!”

“Yes. I pray for your safety as well, Your Excellency.”

That was the last conversation we exchanged.

Asked if there had ever been a profound bond between us formed on a strictly formal lord-vassal relationship, I would say no.

I felt a great talent and poise in her and, utilizing the wisdom she gained with age, aimed to pave her path, guiding her toward the throne that the Emperor should occupy.

Thus, it was a relationship that could exist even without any loyalty or passion directed solely toward her.

Though not given exhaustive instructions from one to ten, she was the type of person who would understand one and know a hundred, creating a hundred and one from that.

A person who could hold herself and others accountable for responsibilities fitting her abilities and position.

Despite lacking martial fortune, yearning for the imperial sword wolf, she found herself unable to reach such heights.

That she judged me, someone who could only live in a way that attracted scorn rather than respect, as useful was indeed something for which I should be grateful.

Therefore, even the last words we exchanged bore no trace of falsehood.

During the “Sacred Election Ritual,” I was ordered to hold my position at the cost of my life, fully aware of the stakes involved.

Not being able to boast of myself as a sword wolf, just an old man languishing away — my final service laid before me.

Even in a relationship devoid of passion between lord and vassal, I had the resolve to dedicate myself to that role.

And yet, Belstet survived.

Meanwhile, the master who had prayed for her safety lost her life.

Even now, Belstet Fondalfon continues to expose her shame.

Failing in her duties, pursuing the position of an Emperor intending to lead the Empire into decline, unable to realize the schemes behind the “Great Calamity,” she stands as an embarrassment to call herself a sword wolf.

Continuing to display her shame, consistently failing to execute the orders given to her.

△▼△▼△▼△

“General Ralfon, what’s wrong?”

“Not like you to disapprove of the royal family of Volakia, is it?”

“Or perhaps, is it that a loser like me, who failed the ‘Sacred Election Ritual,’ isn’t to your liking?”

The same voice was uttered from different mouths, piercing through countless golden eyes.

Clad in golden armor reflecting the same hue as those eyes, Goz Ralfon twisted his scarred face in horror at the ugly reality reflected in his gaze.

Channeling all his might, he delivered a blow with his hammer spear.

The blood of the imperial sword wolf flowing within him screamed in agony, yet he identified Lamia, someone whom he ought to respect, as an enemy to be brought down.

Experiencing pain that felt like his soul being torn apart, Goz came to an understanding of the truth.

That the “Great Calamity” was undeniably a threat aiming to annihilate the Volakia Empire.

“Why…!”

Gritting his teeth, Goz saw Lamia — no, the Lamia before him tilted her head in confusion.

As her orange hair streamed down her slender shoulders, the fire burned within Goz’s abdomen.

“How can you allow such a thing to happen?! This… this desecration! You’re mocking the life of Lady Lamia!!”

Riding on his rising rage, he directed those words toward the multitude of identical Lamia, tears burning hot as they formed.

However, in response to Goz’s heartfelt plea, the Lamia raised their hands to their mouths, giggling merrily—

“Don’t misunderstand, General Ralfon. This isn’t something someone else made me do; this is something I’ve done on my own.”

“…What?”

“That witch is so stubborn. If I can be revived from the pieces, then I can revive before they’re shattered too! I can create as many vessels as I want; all I need to do is dilute the source to fill them. If I can feel that way— then things like this, dreams, become possible, right?”

With an enchanting smile, Lamia Godwin radiated a devilish brilliance, showcasing her expanded existence with both arms.

“―――”

Goz, too, had to agree with Lamia’s words about dreams.

Increasingly multiplied Lamia, those who profaned their own existence with their will.

Each of those Lamia held the “Sun Sword,” the symbol of the Empire.

This was the “dream” Lamia spoke of— if not a nightmare, then what was it?

“Hey, General Ralfon, in reality, dreams can’t be shattered! You should acknowledge that… So why don’t you come to our side?”

“…What do you mean?”

“It’s not a complicated matter. If you die, you’d become just like me and the others. If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be better to join the winning side early?”

Tilting her head, the Lamia gestured toward Goz to entice him.

If one were to fall in battle, they would be joined by the Lamia’s army as undead. While this situation had already begun to occur in the battlefield, the mental toll it took to visualize it was immeasurable.

Even Goz, who harbored an unwavering loyalty to the empire, along with the soldiers who likely shared similar thoughts, would join the side that sought the Empire’s destruction as they fell, no questions asked.

Just like Lamia Godwin, whose fingers reached for the throne of the Empire.

What was completed there would be an undead empire. — The land of sword wolves, completely unrecognizable.

“I’m honored by your words, but Lady Lamia!!”

After tightly closing his eyes, Goz lifted his face and turned to Lamia.

Before Goz’s fierce spirit, Lamia raised a beautifully shaped brow, saying,

“You seem like you might refuse.”

“Though I appreciate your generous mercy, Goz Ralfon! I refuse your offer!!”

“Just as expected, I have been rejected.”

Lamia narrowed her golden eyes, while Goz recalled the vision he had seen earlier.

A vision of himself, dead and relegated to a vanguard of destruction, turning into an undead, with Lamia and others brandishing their weapons to destroy the Empire— he shattered that illusion.

Shattering the illusion, shaking off the encroaching forms, he roared:

“I correct my previous statement! Each and every one of the ‘Nine Divine Generals’ may not heed Our Excellency the Emperor’s will! But I, as your loyal pawn! Regardless of other circumstances, I alone wish to remain as such!!”

Refusing to die and become an instrument of destruction, he instead longed to be a living piece for the Excellency the Emperor.

This was Goz Ralfon’s way of being, as the imperial sword wolf: a desired path.

Leaving governance and the creation of ideals to Vincent, he aimed to fulfill the role assigned to him.

Thus—

“I am Goz Ralfon, the fifth of the ‘Nine Divine Generals’ chosen by His Excellency Emperor Vincent Volakia!!”

Raising his golden hammer spear, he made a declaration that he wouldn’t take a single step back against the multitude of Lamia.

The very next moment, as Goz proclaimed this with great vigor, the Lamia charged forward wielding the “Sun Sword.” One single strike would incinerate the very essence of Goz.

Before his body could reach that scorching fate, Goz’s muscles surged, and he swept with his hammer spear.

“——!”

With a decisive swing free from hesitation, Goz struck down five Lamia at once who had leaped at him, turning their soft bodies, akin to porcelain, into nothing but dust.

Witnessing that display, the remaining Lamia widened their eyes in disbelief, a cruel smile forming on their faces.

“How valiant you may roar and rage, but once you die, you’ll become my slave, you know?”

“If that’s an unavoidable truth! Then I’d rather turn to stone than die! By not dying, I can show my final loyalty and bravery to His Excellency the Emperor!!”

Spinning his hammer spear above his head, Goz took a stance to not let the Lamia gathered in the first vehicle escape.

Should any of the Lamia brandishing the “Sun Sword” scatter throughout the Dragon Carriage, there’d be a chance that sunlight might sear Vincent’s sight. He had to prevent that.

He believed that the massive body of the “Lion Knight” was there for this very purpose, and thus Goz Ralfon raged on fiercely.

△▼△▼△▼△

“——Looks like you’ve decided on quite the fearless resolve, but what a pity!”

In the foremost Dragon Carriage, Goz Ralfon roared fiercely, not wishing to lose his footing as he faced the advancing legion of undead.

That enthusiasm was admirable, but unfortunately, the key aspiration was unmet.

Despite Goz’s desperate attempt to stop the Lamia from passing, the very Lamia had already reached another vehicle of the Dragon Carriage.

It was only natural. Even if they multiplied, they didn’t need to stay in one location. Such limitations were not placed upon them. While Goz’s struggle shouldn’t be seen as entirely fruitless, its contribution level was low.

Moreover, within the Dragon Carriage where individuals holding crucial roles among the Empire were onboard, the importance of obstructing someone like Goz Ralfon was not up for discussion.

“Too bad, but it’s not you holding me back, General Ralfon. It’s me holding you back!”

While Goz valiantly fought against the “Sun Sword,” Lamia, walking toward the middle vehicle, gazed far away.

In the distant sky, the form of a wolfman clashed with a mighty evil dragon like a swarm of black clouds.

“I hadn’t accounted for Barglen being unable to fight, but holding him back was a solid outcome.”

Lamia narrowed her golden eyes at the sight of the wolfman, who was a cut above the rest.

Certainly, Goz, known as one of the nine generals, was undeniably one of the strongest people in the world. Yet he was being overshadowed by someone who surpassed even him, battling the world’s strongest lifeform.

— Rather, the evil dragon appeared to be the one being pressured.

It was not being overwhelmed simply because the evil dragon’s healing factor exceeded the damage dealt. No matter how many times it was shattered, the evil dragon couldn’t be killed completely.

Even if it wasn’t being killed wasn’t noteworthy, it was an exceedingly bizarre sight.

“But even if that wolfman dies, it’s of no use.”

“——That’s certainly something I can’t ignore.”

As a sound of small footsteps echoed, Lamia slowly turned at the gruff voice.

In the same direction as Lamia, a blonde boy stood, a stark contrast to the ongoing clash between the evil dragon and wolfman.

“Thought I detected a beastly smell; you must be a beastman, right?”

“…I don’t appreciate such muddy comments coming from a dirt-smelling woman.”

“——?”

“Having a bunch of identical-looking women lined up is just fine if it’s just Grandma!”

The beastly boy slammed his fists together fiercely in front of his chest.

Lamia and the others squinted at his audacious proclamation.

The boy’s implications were unclear, but it was certain he had previously experienced seeing similar forms congregating, on top of the fact that he was like Lamia now.

Furthermore—

“I’m not buddy-buddy with that gold-plated old man, but his voice carries loudly… Among those here, you’re definitely the toughest.”

“———”

Just as the boy bared his fangs and bellowed, Lamia sensed a change in the air.

It was a change occurring among the vehicles of the Dragon Carriage— if the entire procession were split into five parts, Lamia faced the third vehicle while Goz resisted in the first. The changes happened in the second and fourth vehicles.

The roof of the second vehicle caught fire, while the fourth was frozen solid with a chilling wind.

In either case, those vehicles contained a different Lamia and the “Pruning Squad.”

Feeling that certainty in her skin, Lamia placed her hand on her mouth and chuckled.

“Ah, I see. Kingdom folks do seem to be a bit too persistent.”

“…How did you know we come from Lugnica?”

“I just figured it out. You don’t seem like an imperial citizen, so I asked. How cute.”

“No, you’re wrong. It’s not for mere teasing.”

The boy shook his head in denial of Lamia’s ridicule.

It was not merely a matter of stubbornness or intuition. Rather, it was the boy’s instincts, a gift of primal wisdom that could sniff out truths.

He connected those instincts with Lamia’s words.

“The ‘Believers’ aren’t useful to you, and you’re disappointed that I’m a Lugnican, huh…?”

“——Enough with the chatter.”

A boy who looked incompetent at thinking yet was trying to process things triggered Lamia’s dissatisfaction.

As she shrugged her slender shoulders, another Lamia lunged at the boy.

The boy ducked to evade the red blade and struck the Lamia’s abdomen with an uppercut. However, as the Lamia’s body was sent flying, another Lamia went for a strike, vertically slicing the airborne Lamia’s body in two, setting it aflame, and from behind that fiery curtain, a fatal piercing strike aimed at the boy.

With a short bark, the boy kicked off the roof and sprang into the air.

There, a flying undead dragon approached, and as the soaring boy was bitten onto the undead dragon’s snout, it ascended into the sky, surrounded by a swarm of undead dragons.

“General Ralfon isn’t the only one; children who need to get close are a bad match for the ‘Sun Sword.'”

Lamia remarked as she readied the unscathed “Sun Sword” to the fleeing boy.

One taste of the “Sun Sword,” and it would ignite everything, incinerating their very souls. Even the abilities granted by the magic sword developed through reliance would elevate even a pampered Volakian prince to a first-rate warrior.

Let alone those who had dedicated time to swordsmanship; its benefits were obvious.

“Now then, I’ve cleared out the beastly boy. Next, I need to find my brother’s whereabouts…”

Gradually embarking on her leisurely stroll, at that moment, a sudden loud bang echoed above Lamia.

Looking up, she saw numerous undead dragons clumped together into a round sphere bursting into pieces mid-air.

Emerging from the center of that explosion was a colossal tiger, a far cry from the previously slender and agile boy.

Swinging arms akin to giant logs, the massive tiger hurled the swarm of undead dragons off in an instant. It dove downward with incredible speed, bending the roof of the Dragon Carriage, instantly closing the distance to Lamia.

“――――”

As Lamia turned around, she ascended the “Sun Sword” from a lower stance.

A moment of surprise flickered within her. However, the beast now looked considerably larger. For a wielder of the “Sun Sword” to merely graze their opponent provided no room for error.

The hulking tiger barreled forward; the “Sun Sword” would slice through just as it entered its chest—

“——!!”

“——Ahh.”

As the tips of the “Sun Sword” scraped against steel, Lamia’s golden eyes widened.

The charging tiger did not slam its powerful arms onto Lamia but instead buried claws into the roof a step ahead of her, forcibly ripping it off and made it its shield.

The strike of Lamia was sealed, allowing the opposite arms of the circumnavigating tiger to strike her instead.

The impact tore apart Lamia’s upper half and sent her shattered body careening out of the carriage.

The tiger surpassed Lamia’s expectations. Yet, just like Goz, it was an exercise in futility.

“Even if I die…”

Before shattering completely, the fragmented Lamia’s lips formed the words.

Even if this body perished, she would simply be restored like the others. Moreover, the advantages of this revival were not just about not reaching an end with death.

The next time she resurrected, she would inherit all of this Lamia’s experiences.

In other words—

“———”

As Lamia fell, sensing the intentions of the other Lamia and the “Pruning Squad” who leapt at the tiger, her fading vision caught sight of a figure aboard the Dragon Carriage from which she was being left behind.

In that vehicle, she locked eyes with her quarry. Confirming the identity of her target across which vehicle he resided, she could carry that knowledge into her next resurrection.

“——Vincent, brother, I’ve found you.”

△▼△▼△▼△

“——Your Excellency.”

Belstet murmured, barely opening his usual half-lidded eyes at the scene visible from the carriage window.

Just moments ago, the servant who had been shattered upon the ground was undeniably Lamia Godwin, revived as an undead.

Belstet had already confirmed that with his own eyes.

The moment he saw the “Pruning Squad” he well recognized taking part in the brazen assault on the Dragon Carriage, he was fully aware that it was led by Lamia.

Still, witnessing Lamia being rent to shreds and turned to dust shook Belstet to his core.

“I wished to see you again, but not like this.”

“Drothke, my Lord…”

“Don’t look at me with that face, Chancellor. We’ve witnessed the same thing, haven’t we? If Lady Lamia can be laid to waste like that, then her soldiers at the “Pruning Squad” may stop, yes? Though…”

“———”

“I wouldn’t count too heavily on that.”

With a smile upon his lips at the sight of Lamia, who met her end outside the carriage, Selena shrugged her shoulders slightly.

As her words suggested the level of their expectations was low, there was not a shade of hesitation in the “Pruning Squad’s” ferocious assault even as one Lamia was devotedly felled.

In light of the exchanges from earlier in the military council, death did not signify an end for the undead.

Spinks, presumed to be the leading figure behind the “Great Calamity,” had intended to utilize death to bring about the Empire’s downfall. If a witch could do something, what could the Poisoned Princess not do?

Even without witnessing directly the undying fervor in the “Pruning Squad,” it was certain that Lamia would meet her end first.

“Lady Anastasia, take cover!”

With a clarion voice, a young man from Waso wielded a graceful sword.

The radiant streak that painted a rainbow sliced through the black armor enshrouding the “Pruning Squad,” cutting through it effortlessly as if cutting ice with heated steel.

Even Belstet, who lacked martial prowess, realized that the young man—Julius— possessed strength that rivaled any of the Empire’s warriors.

“But even Julius can’t fight for eternity. We must make a decisive move.”

While protected by Julius’ fierce assault, Anastasia fondly stroked the scarf wrapped around her neck.

The enemies flooding the inside vehicle were being fended off by Julius, while Garfiel faced threats upon the roof. In conjunction with Lamia potentially falling, an intense battle was occurring inside and outside.

Every capable fighter was engaged in combat, including the protective soldiers.

“Yet, it feels like we’re being targeted a bit excessively.”

“Perhaps it’s because you’re here. That mark you were distressed about is clearly visible now.”

“Mark…? Huh, there it is!”

Ubiruku, who had been dragged out from the confinement room, glanced down at his slackened clothing with an exclaim.

As Anastasia pointed out, the faint glimpse revealed red, swollen markings against his pale skin, and if it arose simultaneously with the attack—

“A magical eye that’s grasped the mark on the target… Could it be Lord Paradio Manesque?”

“My, my, is that so? It seems participants of the ‘Sacred Election Ritual’ are gathering, huh? This means I should revisit that moment from when I seized the family estate of my father when Lord Bartloy gifted me those flowers.”

Paradio Manesque of the Volakia royal family, of bloodline tied to the magical eyes, was hunting targets with his magic. That could be the reason the “Pruning Squad” was relentlessly targeting this location.

Belstet contemplated beside Selena, who was equally holding off enemies with her sword.

“Regardless of moving, however, I’d like to avoid mistakenly choosing the front or back and facing death. If we fall, it equates to losing not just the head but the very torso of the Empire as well. What is there aside from death for a being that has lost that? I certainly find that intriguing…”

“…It’s unsettling for you to utter such disgraceful things. While my kind may not count, you and the likes of you are irreplaceable.”

“No matter who, there’s no one irreplaceable, Chancellor. Much like how you, too, serve as His Excellency the Emperor’s proxy. Nonetheless—”

As the ever-candid and composed Selena took the opportunity to jab at Belstet’s achievements within the empire, circumstances began to unfold.

Whether it was the choice to move forwards or backwards, the decisions materialized on their own.

“Here we go! Glad to see you holding the line here!”

“Natsuki-kun!”

Crossing the door that connected to the rear vehicle, already breached by the onslaught of the “Pruning Squad,” a small shadow tumbled into the passenger car where Belstet and the others were.

Before the others, the black-haired boy, who was the vanguard, elicited a joyful reception from Anastasia.

The hurried arrival belonged to Natsuki Subaru, accompanied by a girl in a dress holding his hand. Following were a doe-eyed girl and a blonde girl, alongside a pair of identical girls with pink and blue hair—

“Subaru! What happened to Emilia-sama?!”

“Emilia-tan is holding her ground at the back! She’s freezing and fortifying the vehicle so they can’t get in, but we’ll end up as ice sculptures too if we stay here!”

“What a bold strategy… However, it’s clearly the best move.”

Subaru answered Julius, who had directly decimated a zombie crashing through the window. After a moment, Anastasia mused aloud while squinting her emerald gaze at the girl behind Subaru— the blonde one.

“Uh…”

“Does that mean discussions have come to an end?”

“—No, I’ve reached my conclusion. The chance to share it with everyone has been interrupted. Where’s that jerk Abel? Doesn’t he have the same mark as me?”

Standing next to the blonde girl, Subaru showed his own clothes’ chest area. Indeed, a swollen red mark akin to Ubiruku’s manifested there.

Instantly, Ubiruku yelled out, “A-ha!”

“See, there we are! You’ve got the mark too! We’re in this together as ‘Star Readers’!”

“I’ve said it before—stop saying that! It’s not just me; even the cute Bear-chan’s got the same things on her! What’s our commonality?!”

“——That’s likely to be an obstacle for the ‘Great Calamity.'”

The voice that came next emerged from the opposite door, charging into the guest car from the longitudinal corridor leading toward the front vehicle.

The distinguished figure entering alongside was none other than Otto, the Kingdom’s strategist, and the girl actively attending to soldiers’ healing.

Upon seeing the two appear, Subaru turned with wide eyes.

“Otto! Petra! Are you okay? Sorry about earlier!”

“We can catch up later. Right now, this is crucial information to share.”

“It turns out, the mark they talked about appearing on Subaru and Beatrice has appeared on my Lord too! Right now, he’s in the front carriage drawing zombies towards him…”

“Roswaal-sama also has the mark…”

Leveraging Petra’s report, the girl with pink hair, likely a relative of Rem, bowed her gaze.

However, if the marks appeared on Ubiruku, Subaru, Beatrice, and even the Imperial Court Magus, the conditions for the seal began to faintly materialize.

It was—

“——Directly encountering Spinks on the plains and Baron Meisars, as well as Beatrice and Natsuki-kun who stopped the ambush against the Dragon Carriage, and the ‘Star Reader,’ right?”

“Though we can’t ascertain it here, it’s likely that Haribel, battling the black dragon outside, has a similar mark as well.”

“And then our esteemed Emperor. The chances are significant. Those named are all indispensable in their contributions.”

Glancing over at Selena and jesting about Belstet’s earlier remarks, agreement met between the scholars.

To Belstet, amidst Anastasia and the others beginning their narrative, it was common knowledge that as long as Paradio’s magic gaze continued, assassins would be dispatched indefinitely below where the marked exist.

Yet—

“Wait a minute. If that hypothesis is accurate, then why hasn’t the girl… Spica, received the same mark?”

The one raising her voice was Rem, who had her arms wrapped around the shoulders of the little girl known as Spica.

Though she had not been informed of the exact importance of Spica, she knew the girl was one identified in Ubiruku’s prophecy.

At the very least, she was undoubtedly an important personnel for the Volakia Empire, but—

“Spica, you say?”

At Rem’s assertion, Otto appeared to contemplate seriously.

Hearing what he muttered, Subaru fixed his gaze on Otto, wearing a serious expression.

“I’ve resolved my position. I will prove it through how I choose to live from here on.”

“—What a coincidence. I just decided on the same thing as well.”

Between a tranquil exchange, the level of complex emotions interwoven therein were probably inconceivable to outsiders. Moreover, amid this assault, such deliberations would have to be deferred.

What needed priority now was—

“Garf is bellowing overhead; we need to act before he turns into a roasted tiger.”

“Don’t say it like roasted bird… But I have to agree with Rem.”

Subaru nodded at the pink-haired girl’s words and turned to find their collective gazes fixate on the girl named Spica. With all those eyes scrutinizing her, Spica’s face grew perplexed, and she let out a low hum, looking around bewildered.

“If we believe the matters speculated by the ‘Star Reader,’ that child… Spica is the nemesis of the ‘Great Calamity.’ Yet, why are they looking past her?”

“——? Isn’t that strange? Since we wouldn’t have known if that man hadn’t told us, wouldn’t the other side also be in the dark about it too?”

“…… So you’re saying there’s no ‘Star Readers’ among the undead?”

As the girls exchanged their questions, Subaru’s eyes widened as if struck by a sudden realization.

Noticing the turn of gaze cast that way, Ubiruku shook his head, his expression at a loss.

“I— nah, sorry. I don’t know anything unrelated to destiny.”

“In that case, at least tell us what you see in Spica that suggests she’s the light you mentioned. Simply naming someone without explanation is going too far.”

“Sorry for being irresponsible.”

Ubiruku’s flippant response earned a glower from Rem. However, while his response was not favorable, the topic she raised warranted reflection.

“With the current materials at hand and the need to protect those marked, we’ll have to charge through the Dragon Carriage, capable of collapsing at any moment. That city is likely still undergoing repairs, too.”

“I don’t think we have a leisurely time left.”

As they exchanged dialogue, the Dragon Carriage was gradually losing its form under the attack of the “Pruning Squad.” If they ceased moving, annihilation was inevitable, as previously considered.

To stop this fight, they needed to tackle the commander likely leading the attack—Lamia.

“———”

At present, a remedy beyond simple measures was required. Goz noted the conflicted expression resting on Subaru’s face, the weight of dilemma manifesting there.

Clearly something dawned on him, causing him to hesitate voicing it.

In this situation, there was hesitation over a statement Subaru would voice. Unlike Selena’s lack of scrutiny, the nature of his distress was—

“——Bals.”

“Natsuki.”

At the same time, both individuals called out to Subaru.

Just as Belstet had, they both recognized the fluctuations appearing on the boy’s expression as a result.

Then, while both had a keen grip on their insights, they seemed to have broached awareness of his struggles.

As a shroud surrounded the two of them, Subaru took a deep breath, tying up his expression before stating:

“—Spica’s powers may have the potential to turn the tide.”

△▼△▼△▼△

“Take this!!”

Swinging the barbaric blade in both hands, Medium forcefully cut down an encroaching undead.

Her large swing left her back vulnerable, where another undead’s massive pincers threatened to obliterate it. However, that path was intercepted by a slim longsword.

“Don’t reach out so casually, you oversized brutes!”

The sharp voice and violent strikes belonged to Jamal, a one-eyed soldier of the Empire.

With Jamal’s aid, Medium continued to fight relentlessly against the undead, striving to protect her brother, Flopp, Jamal’s sister Kachua, and the temperamental Abel.

Even now, Medium halted a foe with a front kick, slicing off a head with her barbaric sword, turning the undead into dust. Jamal, in turn, broke a knee with a dual blade, piercing the chest to dispatch them.

“Your Highness! Leave this to me and step back!”

“I still haven’t consented to back down!”

“Princess candidate! Step back, please!”

“Ugh!! I haven’t!”

Being treated with such reverence, Medium struggled to conceal her confusion.

From the earlier discussions between Flopp and Abel, she’d been reprimanded by Abel, yet without hearing her brother’s opinions, Medium had leapt to assist him.

Looking back now, if she had caught on, she wouldn’t have needed to be startled so much.

“If I had, I could’ve avoided this discomfort!”

“Sister! Moping doesn’t suit you!”

“Who do you think is the reason for this, you brat?!”

Infusing her anger into the barbaric sword, Medium strained against the impending massive pincers, resisting their grasp to push back.

As she stood firm, a blade surged from Jamal’s side, stabbing through the abdomen of the enemy behind her.

Pleased that Jamal had come to assist her, Jamal scrapped at the blades in the air, commenting:

“Kachua! Keep your neck out of harm’s way! You can’t let anyone get close!”

“I… I just want it to stop… It doesn’t matter anymore… Living through this means nothing anyway…”

“Quit talking nonsense! If you die, Todd wouldn’t rest in peace!”

“—You’re such a jerk! Do you say things like that on a normal day? Die! Brother, you, just die!”

In her wheelchair, Kachua began to weep at the mention of the name she didn’t know. To Medium, Kachua seemed incredibly pitiful. If it hadn’t been for this circumstance, as two sisters both at the mercy of their brothers, she would have wanted to extend her ear to this one.

Yet, there was no room for such indulgence.

Because—

“——A princess? That’s not acceptable.”

“——!”

“Are you truly worthy to reach together with the sword wolf among sword wolves?”

The image of an exquisite undead stood out, distinctly contrasting against the incoming horde clad in black armor, even to Medium’s eyes.

Had she not possessed that eerie golden gaze and the pallid skin, she might have been admired for her beauty.

Whether it bore a supernatural presence from dying or if it stemmed from her former self was unclear, but her words did not possess the intimidation that Medium could retort against.

“Regardless of how that girl replies, you who have already died are nothing but expendable.”

It was Abel who retorted, not Medium.

At the forefront and farthest end before the passenger car, in the midst of the undead soldier and Medium, Abel and the stunning undead locked eyes upon one another. — No, they gazed into one another.

“Ah, yes, my brother Vincent. You continue to be dashing as always. But perhaps a little thinner than before?”

“With no siblings to annoy, isn’t it only natural that you and Paradio come to this point? Though I may have lost weight, that’s inevitably so.”

“Hehe, you can’t blame me for wanting to step out, huh? — Did you save Priska, brother?”

“———”

“Did you have a right to punish me and Brother Paradio for disrupting the premise of the ‘Sacred Election’? Once the truth is revealed, no one will accept you as Emperor!”

With her hand on her mouth, the undead princess giggled mockingly.

With just that single remark, Abel’s black eyes flickered slightly. With those eyes, as Abel prepared to return her mockery—

“No one would think differently! I believe Abel-chin is the Emperor!”

“I believe so too, Your Excellency! There’s no need to listen to what the dead have to say!”

Medium, unable to hold it in any longer, and Jamal’s voice shook the passenger car.

Upon their statements, Abel’s eyes widened in surprise, while the princess’s gaze narrowed.

She stared at them with her signature golden eyes, examining Medium and Jamal.

“You really say that. Do you know who I am?”

“Huh? You appear to be a part of the royal family of Volakia, but what does being dead matter? The dead are losers, while the living are sword wolves! That’s what it means to be the Empire!”

With a ridiculously clear rationale, Jamal raised his voice and resumed clashing against the undead soldiers.

Medium blinked in surprise for a moment, then burst into laughter. Giggling alongside Jamal, they both dove back into battle.

“You’re cooler than Abel-chin, Jamal-chin!”

“Humble yourself, Princess!”

Medium’s praises ignited a wild grin from Jamal, and his dual blades unleashed chaos anew.

As this battle continued amid their clashing, the stand-off between Abel and the princess persisted. Notably, her expression shifted to a hint of irritation as Abel narrowed his black eyes.

“——There’s an overwhelming presence of the ‘Sun Sword.’ It’s not just one user; there are many.”

“If so, are you excited for more cute sisters to gather? Or are you not interested since I’m no Priska for my brother Vincent?”

“If you’re utilizing the mechanisms behind the undead to orchestrate unforeseen occurrences, then why not parade your numbers before me?”

Loftily taunting, the princess — Lamia drew no rebuttal from Abel.

Yet in Lamia’s silence, Abel synthesized leads and deduced for himself.

Abel perceived that there was a limited number. Furthermore, a majority were likely being held in place. — Goz, presumably.

“My, my, you declare that with such ease, brother. If that’s true, General Ralfon’s efforts deserve some commendations. It’s too bad, considering that he doesn’t seek to be anything but a pawn—”

“—Especially when I chose him.”

Through an even voice, Abel interrupted Lamia’s remarks.

Naturally, as Abel folded his arms, he faced Lamia’s gaze and words directly.

“That man was one of the ‘generals’ I chose. Such performance should be a given.”

Having stated that brazenly, he then called her name, “Lamia.”

At the sound, Lamia’s expression gradually changed ever so slightly.

Before, she wore an alluring, sadistic facade tinged with dissatisfaction, yet that one word from Abel transformed her demeanor entirely.

She opened her golden eyes wide, biting her lip.

“——Vincent Volakia!!”

In the next heartbeat, the face Medium had seen momentarily vanished, masked with a new expression.

Within her lifeless face, a sudden rage ignited her golden eyes, and with a stretched hand into the air, she drew forth the glowing red sword.

Bringing forth the sword shining brightly, Lamia charged, kicking the ground hard, sprinting through the gaps between the undead, launching herself at Abel.

A radiance akin to fire or light illuminated the confines teeming with undead, declaring her intent to obliterate Abel from existence.

Steeling himself against her radiant descent, Abel braced himself as the sword descended.

“Medium!!”

Dashing forward through the undead, Medium raised her barbaric sword to meet the blow.

An instant of stasis occurred, but her weapon melted against Lamia’s mighty strike, flowing off course.

“Your Excellency!!”

Jamal too arrived moments too late, spurring his dual blades to strike, only to have them swallowed in that radiant glow, disappearing instantly.

Having evaded the onslaught of Lamia, her sword finally reached Abel.

In that instant, Abel, vanished within the ruby flames, sent Medium screaming in protest.

At that moment—

“———”

No one comprehended what transpired.

Whether it was Goz, who stood firm against Lamia, or those shaken by the sudden turn of events, everything felt altered.

A sudden shift cascaded through Lamia as she struggled to maintain her footing.

In that moment, it felt as if she were blown away by the wind, and her body was undeniably caught off guard by the brutal collision.

The clash of forces flung them out beyond the Dragon Carriage.

Amidst the chaos, an old man’s hand, rough and gnarled, seized the beautiful fabric of the girl’s dress, refusing to let go.

Even as their bodies were thrown from the vehicle, they remained intertwined—

△▼△▼△▼△

—And in that moment, a shockwave enveloped all the Lamia Godwin present within the Dragon Carriage.

“———”

The Lamia battling Goz Ralfon, those clashing against Garfiel Tinsel, encountering Roswaal L. Meiastars, and even those facing Emilia were all jolted as one, each undulating with the simultaneous shock.

The “Blessing” bestowed upon the souls that fall into this world remains a mystery still unresolved.

Yet one point grows ever clearer.

The Blessing influences those it’s granted to, flowing into their very souls.

Whether that’s proven or disavowed, it was clear as day.

—When Belstet Fondalfon and one of the Lamia Godwin were thrown outward from the Dragon Carriage, they simultaneously became exempted from the “Wind Barrier’s Blessing.”

And it was then that one of the Lamia Godwin charged at Vincent Volakia, as Medium O’Connell and Jamal Aurelie failed to obstruct her, leading to the tragedy that would unfold before Flopp O’Connell and Kachua Aurelie.

“——!”

Fighting against that wind, Lamia, who held the “Sun Sword,” was forcibly repelled backward.

In that fleeting moment, what truly transpired remained a mystery to Lamia and Medium alike.

Only that an overwhelmed Vincent extended a leg forward and, aiming to send Lamia sprawling, halted her advance toward him.

In the wake of that shabby act, the door connecting the neighboring carriage was destructed—

“———”

A spectrum of rainbow light danced, cutting down the “Pruning Squad” positioned at the entrance.

Among that iridescent brilliance, three small shadows rolled into the passenger car.

One of them raised a hand, and a soft glow surrounded those three shadows, increasing their tempo as they rolled in.

That shadow, linking hands with the two others, announced brightly,

“——Lamia Godwin!”

With a fierce shout, the boy with black hair grasped both of his companions’ hands.

Generating light, the girl in the dress called forth power, as the final figure who dove into action extended the opposite arm toward the boy—

“——Iaiaiou!”

—Unshackling the touch upon her back, she stripped away the title of “Poisoned Princess.”

“`

 

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