――On the rooftop of City Hall, the black dragon spreads its wings and mocks Natsuki Subaru and the others below.

With sharp fangs on display, it opens its mouth and flicks its long, red tongue, narrowing its golden eyes, while its shrill laughter reverberates painfully in the air.

The visage of the black dragon is precisely what Subaru imagined a dragon would look like.

Though its sharp and noble features resemble those of Patrasche and the Earth Dragon, the large mane and its immense body are different. Considering that Earth Dragons stay within the size range comparable to a horse, the winged beast overhead is as large as an elephant.

With such a massive frame, it’s hard to believe it could fly, yet its gloriously spread wings would have to be dismissed as mere decoration if that were the case.

Such a thing must be impossible.

“Don’t think I’m getting excited just because you’re staring at me, you idiots! This isn’t a mating season, you know! Ugh, what a disaster to be leered at by creatures who only think about living off their bodily fluids! That’s why I didn’t want to come out!”

With a flap of its wings directed at the ground, the black dragon stirs up a tempest.

As it glares down with a tongue stretched long enough to seem like it’s licking Subaru and the others, Capella twists her reptilian visage into a grin.

What a chillingly expressive winged beast.

It’s marvelous that some things can stir the imagination precisely because they remain unknown. Patrasche, who cannot exchange words, is a clear example of this.

It’s her dignified mannerisms—never revealing emotions—that allows me to love her without any reservations.

In stark contrast, the black dragon before me is rife with an unpleasant, human-like familiarity.

“…Is it really true that dragons can talk?”

“Well, dragons that have lived long years and developed intelligence can understand human language. The divine dragon Volcanica, who made a pact with the Kingdom, naturally communicates with us through words… Although I must admit, I’ve never heard of one exposing its emotions so openly.”

From a distance, Julius answers Subaru’s subdued question.

The foremost knight shrugs while keeping his gaze steadfastly on the winged creature. The other four, including Subaru, mirror his focus.

Below them are two swordsmen of exceptional standing, and above them hovers the black dragon, which goes by the name of “Lust.”

The already anxiety-inducing situation transforms into an imposing wall of despair.

“Just the two swordsmen wouldn’t be too bad, but…”

The woman, holding her longsword with caution, and the giant, testing the heft of his greatsword with casual swings.

While the woman’s capability remains uncertain, the giant withstood an attack from Ricardo. Of course, they knew he would regenerate later, but that didn’t negate the impact of the blow. The conclusion that distance attacks are the way to go hasn’t changed from earlier.

However, that’s only if all six of them pool their strength to corner the enemy.

“Is there anyone with experience fighting dragons…?”

“—Yes.”

“Wait, seriously, Mr. Wilhelm?”

Feeling a strong sense of hope being dashed, Subaru turns to Wilhelm, who responds in a grave tone.

The elderly swordsman nods at Subaru’s surprised expression.

“Nearly forty years ago, I took part in the expedition to subdue the dragon called the Evil Dragon Balgren to the south of Lugnica. I remember there being considerable diplomatic tension when we concentrated forces near the border with Volakia.”

“Putting aside those diplomatic issues, can you give us some advice for fighting a dragon?”

“During the battle against Balgren, a tenth of the five hundred knights who participated were killed, and four-tenths were decimated. We succeeded in defeating it, but the aftermath was calamitous. One must be wary of its breath, its endless stamina, and the powerlessness of swordsmen when it’s airborne.”

“Without the ability to mass forces, our odds have just plummeted!”

While Subaru turns pale at this news, Wilhelm continues, “That said, Balgren was a foe worthy of being called a dragon among winged beasts. Meanwhile, that one is too small to be called a true dragon. If you take off its head, it should die in one blow.”

“Balgren didn’t die with a single blow?”

“Let’s just say there were three heads we could decapitate.”

Recalling what must have been a brutal grudge match, Wilhelm tightens his grip on his sword.

If only there’s only one head to take off, that’s somewhat reassuring.

With Wilhelm ready for battle, Subaru regrips his whip and the others brace themselves as well.

Seeing Subaru’s unyielding spirit, the black dragon Capella, with a surprisingly curious tone, remarks,

“Oh dear me, what tenacious little nuisances we have! Normally, after being thoroughly toyed with like that, wouldn’t even the weaklings among you get a bit intimidated by the arrival of reinforcements, such as an Archbishop of Sin? I must be mistaking you for some other insects! Haha!”

“Shut up! I don’t care about who we’re up against! I don’t care how many stand in our way! I’ll sweep away all the obstacles and stomp you down!”

“Haha! Is that the pathetic bark of a loser I hear? Am I going deaf, or are those cries coming from someone who’s clearly not a loser but a losing cat? Nya-nya-nya, your partner has dropped dead, and you’re blushing like a fool!”

“Wh-what!?”

Garfiel, fired up from Capella’s taunts, struggles to reply.

The words from the black dragon seem to surely allude to Garfiel’s defeat. If Capella is detailing Mimi’s demise, it means she witnessed it firsthand.

What rattles Garfiel even more is the addition of,

“Where did you learn that I’m the War Tiger…?”

“Pfft, asking where I heard such an obvious thing? I couldn’t care less about you! Just looking at you tells me you’re a filthy half-beast, you think you’re being mocked? If telling you that is considered an insult, then YOU are the fool! Such a complete fool you ought to die!”

With venomous slander, Capella snorts disdainfully while sizing up Subaru and the others.

“Smells, it reeksss! Every single rotten piece of meat over here only gives off the stench of trash! Wrinkled, outdated trash! Trash pretending to be clever! Hairy beast trash! Something that confounds me is this annoying trash! But then—”

After dispensing harsh judgments on them, Capella’s gaze finally focused on one place—Crusch.

Her sharp eyes narrow, and as Crusch instinctively hugs herself, Capella delights in the sight, purring with satisfaction.

“Well, look at that, there’s some decent meat mixed in. A lovely, cute piece, just to my taste! What a nice fragrance! The thrill of taboo is simply irresistible! That face, that body, that beauty… Oh how I’d love to make you squirm under my hands!”

“—Enough already.”

“Huh?”

In a state that could only be called entranced, the black dragon gazes at Crusch from head to toe as if savoring her.

At that moment, a low voice filled with suppressed anger slices through the tension.

“—”

The black dragon, whose focus was on Crusch, irritably lifts her head.

And there, her widened eyes land upon Julius, whose sword-tip sways like a conductor’s baton.

“May you burn in six colors, El-Plirilium!”

Above Julius’s head, six semi-spirits orbit in a circle, and a radiant beam of six colors shoots forth.

The rainbow-colored light changes to white upon impact, while Capella, taking the direct hit, releases a blood-curdling scream.

“—Kyaaaaaaah!!”

“That’s for the lengthy discussion. If it were possible, it would have seemed like mere nonsense more than worth that much.”

Following Julius’s lead, the destructive light from the semi-spirits is mercilessly unleashed.

To the haunting strains of Capella’s chilling shrieks, the two previously silent swordsmen dash toward them once more.

“Stop this!”

“Let it not happen!”

Garfiel and Wilhelm both intervening with fierce voices.

Wilhelm clashes swords with the female swordsman, while Garfiel stoutly deflects two greatswords with his twin shields.

“—”

“Step back, I must see this through!”

The female swordsman, attempting to retreat after her initial strike was thwarted, is met with a dazzling slash from Wilhelm.

The old swordsman unleashes a storm of powerful vertical and horizontal cuts with a fierce advance. The long reach of the woman’s sword becomes a liability, causing her defense to come up short against Wilhelm’s incredible speed.

Even so, what makes the woman terrifying is her ability to dodge Wilhelm’s swift cuts even when she can’t perfectly defend herself. Her footwork and balance are as polished as one can get, to the extent of not disturbing the flow of water in a river.

Her body, seemingly sculpted just to wield a sword, showcases swordsmanship that rivals Wilhelm’s in their previous battle against the White Whale.

“Unh, uoooh!”

“—”

In a show of strength, she yells and unleashes a fierce ki, pushing Wilhelm’s rotation to another level.

Who could mock an elderly form? The barrage of strikes from the old swordsman captures the attention of many young aspirants wielding swords, inspiring them to strive for the peak of swords.

The flashing blades slice through the wind, race through the sky, scrape the earth, and endeavor to reach the woman’s flesh.

The responding woman, silent and without a cause, meets the honed blade of the elder head-on, flowing and deflecting it.

With no sound, no grand cause to champion, she appears as nothing more than a puppet crafted for battle. Blinded, she swings her blade as if obeying the war-driven genes carved within her body, like gears turning seamlessly.

Cutting through the wind, racing through the sky, scratching the earth, she mercilessly parries the blades surging toward her.

The sound of steel clashing does not echo as a mere engagement of steel against steel.

The woman’s sword isn’t light, nor should the elder’s sword be.

Yet, the sharpened blades present solely for the hunt bear no unnecessary destruction beyond their purpose.

This is a beautiful realm of “blade” that is deemed an honor to achieve for the existence of sword fighters living by the way of “sword.”

“Uooooo—!!”

“—”

The swords gleam, and the two swordsmen wrestle quietly.

—It is a pure sanctuary of swords, a place where no interruptions are permitted.

Meanwhile, another battlefield unfolds nearby.

“Oi, get moving—!!”

“—”

With a war cry, muscles tense, shattering the earth with his advance and hammering into the opponent’s flesh.

A blow lands that disorients, the sensation of a smack stirs a roar, and the feeling of crushed organs begs forth blood.

Garfiel and the giant engage in a brutal physical contest, an absolute contrast to the dazzling duel of the swordsmen.

Though he too could be classified as a swordsman wielding dual greatswords, his fighting style bears no trace of refinement and bears a closer resemblance to barbaric or beast-like instincts.

“Ha! Raah!!”

In opposition, Garfiel, too, seems ignorant of genteel fighting practices.

His combat style is a raw, self-taught method. Since being tutored by Subaru, he has dubbed it “Garfiel Style Battle Shield Form,” which ultimately means the approach is purely instinctive, a chaotic violence understood by none other than himself.

The clash of Garfiel’s raw force and the giant’s savage technique harmonized perfectly.

To the spectators, it’s a straightforward duel of brute force until one collapses.

“—”

Each strike from the giant’s greatsword is heavy, and just blocking with one arm risks an elbow injury. Yet, if he defends with both arms, the other greatsword will inevitably strike unchecked.

Therefore, as each greatsword swings down, Garfiel counters with a single shield, deflecting the force. Managing to slide the blade across his shield while maintaining strength.

What’s terrifying is that this giant isn’t mindlessly swinging his weapons. Though shockingly savage in style, each swing is direct and straightforward.

Talents alone cannot reach this level. Techniques only obtained through millions and billions of swings.

In the face of a blade swung straight at them, there’s no room for careless defense.

Narrowing one’s focus when taking on such attacks, the silver shield can be sliced by a brutally effective greatsword, and Garfiel would directly bear the brunt of the impact.

“Don’t kid me—!”

Thus, Garfiel must pour all his strength into facing the oncoming big-blade’s ferocity.

A downward swing, deflect. A horizontal slash from the side, deflect. A subsequent upper swing from below, deflect. An opportunistic blow from another arm, hit. Strike back.

The incredibly inconvenient fact is that this giant has six arms in addition to wielding his sword.

In pivotal moments, these additional appendages successfully slip past Garfiel’s defenses to land strikes, and sometimes they swing the greatsword with unorthodox three-handed techniques.

Speed leans in Garfiel’s favor, but for power and versatility, the giant surpasses him.

With a jab to the jaw, a deflected greatsword, a kick to the knee, and a rising punch to the face, Garfiel is pushed back under the onslaught of blows, only to be buried by a devastating overhead slash.

Blood sprays, bones crunch, and a cacophony of agony and applause reigns in this savage battleground.

The crash of shield against greatsword rings like a percussion instrument, reverberating with sparks flying overhead, reminiscent of a theatrical performance.

“—”

On one end, the silent battlefield of Wilhelm clashes with the thunderous battleground of Garfiel.

Subaru and Crusch hold their breaths, unable to interrupt either battle—not only because they lack the skill to intrude but also because they are entranced, frozen in place.

However, unlike Subaru, who is enraptured by emotion,

“This won’t do, it’s almost time to move!”

From above, Ricardo, keeping a watchful eye on Julius’s magic, shifts forward.

At that moment, just as Subaru’s “Huh” slips out,

“Lord Subaru!”

“Get back!”

Grabbing him by the collar, Subaru is pushed to the ground by Crusch, who shields them both. In front of the two, Ricardo stands tall, tilting his head up to open his mouth.

“W-whoa—!!”

A roar creates a wave of sound, reverberating through the air with the power of unseen destruction.

The unleashed roar wave is reminiscent of one Mimi displayed while battling the White Whale alongside her younger siblings. Astonishingly, it seems Ricardo can now unleash an attack powerful enough to cause damage to the White Whale and interrupt its offense all on his own.

Meeting this unleashed roar is the oncoming black flames, breaking through the white light and pouring down toward the ground.

The pitch-black hellfire roils ominously, trembling from its nature, shaking the hearts of those watching. What’s ghastly is that the flames persist even after they collide with the wave, scattering debris inelegantly across the square.

However, its true horror emerges once they touch the ground.

“What’s that flame… it won’t go out?”

Upon landing on the cobblestones, nothing is present to quench the black flames. Yet, astonishingly, they remain at that spot, extending their fiery tongues toward the surroundings.

The terrifying fact is that the flames even persist after spilling into a waterway.

Like oil mixed with fire, the flames assert their existence right there.

“Hey, brothers, how long y’all gonna keep at it? Plus, aren’t you supposed to switch things up?”

“Subaru. Is it really alright to be shielded by a woman?”

Feeling an unsettling chill from the lingering flames, both Ricardo and Julius glance at Subaru, who realizes he’s down on the ground, with Crusch literally above him.

“I look really bad!”

“I’m glad you’re okay! Don’t worry, I won’t tell Ferris or Emilia!”

“That makes me look even worse!”

In addition, being helped up by Crusch only amplified his embarrassment by tenfold.

With a swift smack to his backside, Subaru looks up to where the black dragon, the source of the black flames, looms overhead, grimacing at its demeanor.

No, it’s disgust.

“I hate it! This creature leers at me, trembling with sexual excitement! Stop staring at me, don’t violate me with your gaze! Kya-ha-ha! If I told a dancer her touches were forbidden, would you say, ‘but I didn’t touch you, it was magic, ha-ha!’?”

“What’s that?”

Having barely survived Julius’s magic, Capella appears to be doing better than expected.

However, that certainly does not mean unscathed. If anything, Capella’s condition attests to the searing damage inflicted by Julius’s untempered spell.

The prideful wing of the winged dragon is now horribly scorched, the blood and flesh dripping from it. The wings likely shielded its body, yet it couldn’t have shielded its core from the damage level endured.

The power of the magic pierced through its wings, causing damage to the black dragon’s torso, with its abdomen scorched by extreme heat while the insides boiled and turned into mush. The head of the dragon is nearly gone, its tongue hung limply, and its eyeball droops out.

This is no mere injury; this is beyond death.

However, what leaves Subaru breathless and even causes a frown from Julius and Ricardo, and instinctual fear from Crusch isn’t merely the horrifying devastation.

—It’s the regeneration from that horrifying devastation.

Veins writhe, flesh bulges, bones creak as torn fibers stitch together, and the broken body of Capella rapidly begins to heal.

This outrageous scene produces heat and bright-red steam rising from the blood.

“Are you satisfied now that you all saw my beautiful insides? I guess you all, driven by your carnal desires, want to see the tender behind of your preferred trash? Kya-ha-ha! Are you satisfied? Do tell, are you satisfied and getting all hot and bothered?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s just plain idiocy to ask about something evident, isn’t it? But I’m generous, I’ll indulge you. As you can see, I’m invincible—simple as that!”

Invincible—a term as stark as it is absurdly clear.

Subaru could only gasp at Capella’s self-proclamation. Though a part of him wanted to laugh it off as folly, could he truly dismiss it as mere foolishness? Did he not think that this laughable insanity was merely a coping mechanism for his own denial?

“It’s just some absurd, supernatural regeneration capacity…”

“Feel free to imagine whatever you like. Some say invulnerability and such foolishness, but I don’t think I’m that extraordinary!”

“—”

“Oh, oh my, you’re quiet now, aren’t you? That’s cute! Just kidding, you idiot! Die! All of you worthless meats ought to perish! Only I should stand supreme! C’mon now!”

Spitting out her scathing words, Capella abruptly cuts herself off mid-sentence. Then, the black dragon violently slams her newly healed wing down against the rooftop of the City Hall, lumbering to her feet.

Finally, it seems she’s making her move to attack Subaru and the others on the ground, prompting them to brace themselves.

“It’s time! I have a broadcast to attend to, so I’m going back inside. Talking to you lot is an utter waste of time! Infuriatingly pointless! So, go ahead and let the marginal pieces of meat over there get chopped into bits, and die rotten!”

“H-huh?”

All at once, her energy deflates, and Capella yawns voluminously. Afterward, she turns away, prancing into the depths of the City Hall, disappearing from Subaru and the others’ view.

While it could be assumed to be a strategy to sow doubt,

“Should we consider it a trap? But… she’s going to broadcast.”

“If the demands reach them, the town in a quiet state will descend into panic. Damn it, do we really have to go in after her in this situation? Chase after her!”

Foreboding feelings swirl within them.

How as that hulking beast supposed to slip inside the City Hall? Subaru can only guess the size of the broadcast room, but it seems Capella might just wipe the entire place clean with one small movement. Perhaps she had the Witch Cultists set up for her, merely transmitting her voice.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll handle the guys outside with these two. Julius and my brother, along with miss Crusch, will be the ones storming in.”

With that, Ricardo points out the course of action, leaving Subaru and the others contemplating their plan. Despite his hopes that some reasoning lies behind this decisive choice,

“There’s no reasoning there. If we have to deal with those puppet-like foes, it would be tough for Crusch and Subaru. Besides, I’m at a disadvantage inside the building. Julius can handle both tasks. That’s about it.”

“That seems reasonable. I’d make the same decision. Truth be told, I’m worried about leaving Wilhelm and Garfiel behind, but I’ll rely on you, Ricardo.”

“Leave it to me. I’ll handle it smoothly.”

Before Subaru and Crusch could interject, Julius and Ricardo nod in agreement.

As comrades, there must be a shared understanding behind their swift decision. With no rebuttals forming, Subaru scratches his head in frustration.

“Garfiel! Don’t you dare lose! After we take down that thing and ‘Lust’, we’ve got to rescue Emilia!”

“Now’s not the time for idle chatter, Captain!”

Calling out to Garfiel as he wades through the tumult, Subaru nods at Julius on the side. Crusch places a hand on her mouth, turning to Wilhelm.

“Wilhelm, I’m counting on you!”

“Understood!”

In response to his master’s brief order, Wilhelm replies just as concisely.

In true master-servant style, that exchange suffices. When Crusch indicates her agreement, they surge forth behind Julius, ready to storm the City Hall.

Breaking through the square, the three of them launch themselves at the main entrance of the City Hall, preparing for the next challenge as two ominous shadows close in, forgetting the foes before them.

“Letting ourselves line up like this is plain stupid, especially when—!!”

With a mighty roar, the sound wave erupts, shaking the cobblestones, causing the shockwave to engulf the woman and giant from behind. The dispersing roar, though its force has been diminished, is enough to halt both in their tracks, and soon their neglected dance partners catch up.

“You shouldn’t treat me that way! Can’t you see you’re the only one I’m focused on?”

“Don’t turn your back on me during a fight! I’ll rip your ass hairs out and crush you, you hear me?!”

“—”

The clash of blade against blade, fists against sword resonates fiercely as the battleground in the square excludes any bystanders.

In the explosion of swordplay behind them, Subaru and the others do not let off the gas as they burst through the City Hall’s main entrance.

“Where’s the broadcast room?!”

“I’m not sure, but it should be on the upper floors. That would make it easier to transmit.”

“There could be ambushes! Stay alert!”

The area they slip into upon entry is the reception lobby of the City Hall.

Once bustling with people, overflowing with charming receptionists, it lays in tatters, dim lighting imbuing oppressive air into the space.

Fortunately, the sight of corpses or Witch Cultists lying in wait seems to have been avoided—but—

“Let’s head up, then. There’s probably a directional map or something to point us to the broadcast room!”

“If possible, we’d also like to check on everyone who was in the City Hall, but it seems that wish is a bit overly ambitious.”

“What—!”

Peering into the reception, the moment Subaru confirms it’s empty, he points at the stairs. Julius quietly nods in response but shakes his head as he stares into the lobby’s depths.

As Crusch furrows her brows at this behavior, she’s soon covered in a shade of dread.

Seeing Crusch’s reaction, Subaru glances back into the reception, joining the two.

—Then, he notices what they’ve all caught sight of and holds his breath.

Stepping lightly, a single figure approaches.

Peeking from the side of the stairs, a boy beams a mischievous smile as if caught in a prank.

At first glance, he resembles a small child.

His small stature betrays his youthful features, but that amusement pales once one gazes into the boy’s eyes.

With messy long chestnut hair and dressed in a crude wrapping of cloth around his body.

Imbued with an innocent face and playful smile is the shine of a rotten gaze that seems to distill every toxin in the world—one that doesn’t belong to a sane person.

And in this situation, should there be an insane individual, there’s no question of what he is.

“Happy, happy, happy! Oh so very happy! Glad, glad, glad! It makes me so happy because I can feel it! Gluttony! Gluttony! The more I’m starving for the things I covet, the more delicious the first bite will become!”

With unrestrained joy, the barefoot boy struts forward.

From that overly animated mouth peek a pair of slightly elongated canine teeth. The mannerisms, attitude, and his outrageously loud claims set Subaru’s mind aflame.

If this imagining, this boiling emotion, is sure of veracity, then this child must be—

“Listen here, brat. If by chance you’ve just been playing hide and seek and ended up left behind, and you’re just one of those slightly embarrassing kids, then confess right away. I might actually let that slide. But if you’re not, then identify yourself.”

“Ahaha, what’s that, big brother? You look irritated. Do you happen to have some grudge against us? I’d like to remember, but we’re all pretty dim-witted and have lousy memories, you know…?”

Subaru bites back the urge to shout, striving to maintain his calm facade.

As if to spite Subaru’s nerves, the boy distorts his mouth into a sinister grin.

“Why don’t you see if that irritation really is aimed at us, or truly meant for someone else…?”

“Enough already, I get it. You’re—my enemy.”

“We are the Witch Cult’s Archbishop of Sin, the one responsible for ‘Gluttony,’ Roy Alphard!”

“Gluttony—!!”

The moment the boy declared himself as “Gluttony,” Subaru’s whip was drawn furiously.

It sliced through the air, delivering a heartless strike straight to the face of that confrontational foe. That—

“Well, it’s not unusual for us to devour grudges.”

The boy, “Gluttony,” stopped the lash with his teeth, saying it with a bold face.

 

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