I had harbored doubts for a long time.

In order to achieve his ultimate goal, Roswaal L. Meiastars, the lord to whom I pledged my loyalty, needed to kill the “Dragon” that protects the Lugnica Kingdom.

Ram was an essential piece for Roswaal’s purpose; I had heard this from him nearly ten years ago.

In the burning village of the red-eyed Oni, Roswaal sought a price after saving Ram and ■■.

Thus, Ram made the decision to pay that price in exchange for the Oni tribe’s retribution.

For that reason, she was willing to cooperate in any plan to kill the “Dragon.”

Yet, one thing remained unanswered in Ram’s mind: how to kill that crucial “Dragon.”

It wouldn’t be easy. Even if schemes were devised and means were taken, it wouldn’t be a simple task. When the time came, what could Ram possibly do?

“You’ll understand when the time comes…—the role that only you, and your sister, can fulfill.”

It felt as though I had been spoken to with words that were somewhat incomplete.

Strangely, I had not deeply pondered what it meant until today—

“I finally understand. What Lord Roswaal is after.”

Every action Roswaal undertook was for the sake of that ultimate goal tethered to his long life.

To that end, he infiltrated the Lugnica Kingdom, saved Ram and ■■, seized the “Sanctuary” as a trial of resolve, and tested Natsuki Subaru.

Even if he was forced to change the original plan, the groundwork laid beforehand would not go to waste—no, he was determined that it wouldn’t.

Thus, Ram’s answer had also emerged.

The reason Roswaal took in the young Oni sister ■■ as his last trump card.

■■ was taken as a substitute for Ram’s lost horn.

Ram and ■■, the sisters, were kept close together to kill the “Dragon.”

Of course, Roswaal could not escape the influence of “Gluttony.”

As a result, he too would have forgotten why ■■ was kept in his mansion. However, even if he had forgotten, he should have quickly caught on to his own aims.

And while watching Ram and the others struggle to reclaim ■■ from the clutches of “Gluttony,” he did not speak of that fact. Truly, to what end—

“You cannot change his meticulousness.”

Even after being thwarted by Subaru’s actions, he continued his underhanded work to achieve his goals step by step.

It was a troublesome nature. By now, I wondered what he was doing without my watchful gaze.

Yet, I also thought about this—

—Had Roswaal anticipated this possibility when he allowed Ram to accompany Subaru and the others on this journey?

I might be overthinking.

After all, the appearance of the Archbishop of Gluttony at the Pleiades Watchtower was a sudden turn of events, and surely, there was no certainty that Ram and ■■ would find themselves in danger.

This might have been a delusion born from Ram’s overestimation of the man she cherished.

But—

“If it’s going to end this way, I’d prefer to think that he trusted me, his favorite man.”

The notion was that with Ram present, ■■ and the others would be protected.

If it came to it, it was believed that Ram would notice Roswaal’s hidden intentions and choose to reveal her trump card to kill the “Dragon.”

It felt much better to think that Roswaal L. Meiastars had valued the ten years of Ram’s life.

So—

—and that brings me to this moment.

“I’m feeling absolutely great right now. Come at me!”

The legendary feat of “Fist King” Neiji Rockhart had become a bit of a tale among the “Gladiator Island” Gnunhaive of the Holy Volakia Empire. —No, it used to be a story.

Having suffered from the effects of “Gluttony,” losing both his “name” and “memory,” no one remains who knows the achievements he made as a gladiator.

Neiji survived countless duels using only bare fists as a weapon and ultimately secured his rights as a freed slave.

The spirit solidified in his fists and the ability to parry blades made any obstacle in his path as soft as a maiden’s skin; he could be said to be one of the most deadly humans in history.

The “Flesh-Eating Beast” Bery Hainelga, with her merciless methods, once struck fear into the Gusteco Holy Kingdom. —No, there were moments when she had.

Suffering similarly from the effects of “Gluttony,” and having lost both her “name” and “memory,” none of the tragedies or lessons birthed by her reign of murder linger in anyone’s memory.

Bery exhibited abnormal growth from birth, achieving physical strength unattainable by ordinary humans. She committed heinous acts of killing her favored men.

With tremendous natural strength and skin so resilient it shrugged off any blade’s scratch, this murderer, in pursuit of touch and warmth, was feared alongside the “Gut Hunter,” known to be one of the worst criminals.

The “Leaper” Dorkel had a peculiar history. Originally a mere merchant living in the Kararagi City-State, Dorkel became a deviated soul, he who could hear the voices of things that are not human.

Having suffered from “Gluttony,” and losing both “name” and “memory,” the fact that he was ridiculed by many as a deviated soul vanished into thin air.

One day, Dorkel suddenly cast away his life, along with his wife and children. He chose a path to worship something that does not exist and became a unique man who contacted the Witch Cult.

Ultimately, Dorkel manifested an ability different from magic, one that diverged from the Witch Cult’s doctrines and was banished as a heretic even among them.

In short, these beings are all extraordinary entities of unusual people, strange individuals, and madmen.

Ordinary humans cannot match them; in being what they are, they are not complete, swirling within the folds of “Gluttony,” merging with each and every “memory,” refined into something even more supreme.

What would happen if Neiji Rockhart obtained Bery Hainelga’s durability and Dorkel’s elusive abilities?

That would culminate in the creation of a remarkably wicked singular entity.

Thus far, the Archbishop of Gluttony, Rai Batenkaitos, had not pursued that path.

He feared that by mixing all the “memories” in his own pot, he would be absorbed into its contents.

Yet, even if he drank from the mixed pot, he wouldn’t be absorbed—at least, that’s how it appeared in Batenkaitos’s perspective.

And having reached that point, he had no hesitation in trying what he had previously avoided, breaking through the limits he had set for himself.

This being, who had devoured every excellent talent, history, and potential, was none other than Rai Batenkaitos.

Thus, on this day, in a tower at the edge of the eastern world’s sandy sea, a demon was born; a being merging all techniques and powers—both congenital and acquired—at a higher dimension.

The demon possessed arms capable of destroying all, a body impervious to any attack, techniques that could repel all kinds of magic, and the wisdom to grasp all things.

No entity in history possessed such a wide range of capabilities as this, and none shall be born in the millennia to come.

This was an abominable catastrophe known as the Witch Factor, extracted from the world’s potentials.

From the large pot evolved a supreme “Gourmet” itself—

“—I’ll give you three chances,” said a peach-haired girl, holding up three fingers before that rare existence.

Blood flowed from her forehead, and her pale pink eyes held a cold light. She stood there, injured all over, with severe wounds hindering her slender form.

With so many reasons she couldn’t continue standing, I understood that.

The biggest reason was not her injuries or blood loss, but that her weak body could not function as a vessel that would contain her existence. —I found it quite pitiful.

“I’ll let you hit me three times first. I want to test something. Unbelievable, right?”

But, dismissing my sentiments entirely, the girl kept her three fingers raised, as if challenging me.

Three times—whether it sounded like a death sentence. I shouldn’t even be able to endure it once.

Moreover, I had no particular reason to reject such an offer.

I didn’t even consider it a trap.

This girl wasn’t one to frivolously propose such negotiations. I had to convey that excessive confidence could also lead to destruction.

If we were to mix together in the same pot, perhaps there’d be some understanding discovered—

“—Sister, here I come.”

With a powerful push from my back foot, I launched a strike as requested.

It was a blow packed with the techniques and destructive power of the Fist King—a single strike excessively powerful enough to crush a single girl, that force was absorbed into her pristine face—

“First, one hit.”

“—Huh!?”

In the moment I thought I’d surely struck true, the girl avoided my fist barely, causing her outstretched arm to gently push my thrust away, and with a knee strike, she shattered my right arm at the elbow.

An unimaginable event followed. The girl, whose body wasn’t even scratched by the holy sword’s slash, dealt a heavy blow, breaking me at the one point—the elbow joint—where only she existed.

But—

With my right arm crushed, my left leg sprang up toward the girl’s face.

Not out of revenge, but this too was a knee strike aimed at her. My long, slender leg, the white knee slammed into the girl’s delicate nose, intending to ruin her beautiful visage.

“Second.”

Hearing those words escape her thin lips, I couldn’t believe my ears.

I was meant to ensure she wouldn’t speak. But she smoothly moved her hand to evade my incoming knee strike and deflected it upward.

The released knee passed seamlessly above her head as if it had been aimed at empty air from the start.

And—

“Third.”

Having dodged my right punch and the left knee strike, I threw a sharp and hard elbow strike mid-spin; that would have crushed her skull like a fruit, spilling the contents all over the tower’s floor.

That was the intent.

—Except, that was not to be.

The elbow strike aimed at the girl’s temple merely sent a few strands of her peach-colored hair flying.

Then, as if she had foreseen it, the girl evaded my blow with her elbow, then quickly grabbed my face with her outstretched hand.

“You fool.”

She delivered those words with a chilling tone and slammed my head hard into the ground.

——

Slamming Batenkaitos, who morphed endlessly before my eyes, into the floor, Ram pressed three fingers onto his face.

“Those who think they have three chances in a match lose all three. If you’re not seriously trying to win, luck will abandon you too.”

“Ugh…!”

“Thank you. You’ve just proven it—there’s no fortune that rivals Ram.”

The most terrifying enemy was, for Ram, the very unpredictable fortune itself.

But Ram subdued it with her own hands, forcing it to bow at her feet.

Now, there was nothing to fear.

“—Ugh!”

As Batenkaitos lay sprawled on the ground, he raised both legs and slammed them down against Ram. Without hesitation, she stepped in to meet the incoming weapon of his shattered right arm.

Blood dripped from her forehead. Yet, that pain and feeling of loss ignited something deep within her veins.

Ah, how infuriating. What an exhilarating sensation; I had found it bothersome for so long.

The detestable Oni instincts welcomed combat, revved up from exerting strength, and burned with the thirst to kill the enemy that should be killed—Ram had always hated that.

So I thought I was liberated the night my horn broke.

“How ironic.”

As I muttered that, I seized the arm that came crashing down and tossed Batenkaitos straight over my shoulder. He landed with a thud, and I kicked his head down the corridor.

I wouldn’t allow the wounded Earth Dragon or the girl resting against the wall to be approached.

“—……”

The girl continued to sleep, with a white horn gently glowing on her forehead, asserting her existence.

By rights, she shouldn’t be able to activate her horn if she continued sleeping without her will, even if she were of the Oni tribe.

However, even if that awareness was lost, Ram and the girl were twin sisters—what they shared was known as “synesthesia,” an intangible connection between strongly blood-related beings.

That very existence had been something Ram felt during the past year, tending to the sleeping Rem.

Not only their physical similar appearance, but that connection allowed Ram to accept, objectively, that the girl was her younger sister.

However, this “synesthesia” never allowed any communication with the sleeping Rem.

Had Rem seen even one terrifying dream, that fear might have been conveyed to Ram, but nothing of the sort had ever occurred in the past year.

In other words, sleeping Rem didn’t dream. —She had only gazed at the darkness behind her eyelids, merely breathing in a void of nothingness.

Thus, discovering the possible misuse of this “synesthesia” here was sheer coincidence.

I found it frustrating, but Dnatsuki’s peculiar thoughts opened this door. Thanks to him bearing my burdens, my combat capacity surged as well, I got the idea.

Those bonded through “synesthesia” share strong emotions and, at times, even injuries or pain.

While the principles behind it are unknown, I once read a hypothesis in a book in Beatrice’s Forbidden Library.

—“Synesthesia occurs when the ‘Odo’ connects and functions between two separate individuals.”

Odo is the source of power dwelling deep within a human—also referred to as one’s soul.

It can be used as the source of power for casting spells instead of mana, but initially, Odo is simply the pure essence that defines a person.

Unencumbered by anything, the result of intertwining beings born from the same womb may well be what “synesthesia” refers to.

In the end, it has been classified as folklore and isn’t a validated matter.

However, the fact that it had been kept in the Forbidden Library meant it was no mere fable. More than anything, Ram personally liked that theory.

The thought that someone was intrinsically connected to me from birth was beautiful indeed.

“Thanks to that irritating horn, I’ve had my fair share of trouble.”

The impulsive urge conveyed from the white horn was something Ram abhorred.

Being praised as the return of the Oni Demon was infuriating. I held no connection to some ancient existence beyond understanding.

Rather, it was more appropriate to grant value to myself instead.

So, if I had been connected to someone unrelated to that, it would be a beautiful thing.

And if that connection truly exists—

“—Surely, I would unconditionally love that child from the moment of birth.”

Even if that child were an infant, I would see no means befitting the bond.

To protect, cherish, care for, love—everything would be given.

Thus—

“Forgive me. At such times, I am truly a burdensome older sister.”

Through “synesthesia,” Ram shared her physical burdens with her sleeping sister.

Having experienced Subaru’s abilities once firsthand, I could replicate such feats, even just once.

Subaru’s “that” operates on a similar mechanism—likely, it forcibly connects another’s Odo with my own, creating a rather one-sided “synesthesia.” If he wanted, he could force burdens onto others, but Subaru was an idiot and wouldn’t do that.

Rather, he aimed to reduce the burdens of allies by only taking from them.

“—You’re an idiot.”

The same words I had directed at Batenkaitos earlier.

Yet, though it was the same phrase, the resonance was far from similar.

What Subaru accomplished through his abilities, I could only replicate with Rem, who was connected through “synesthesia.”

I had no idea what occurred on Subaru’s end. However, this method should improve the situation somewhat. I would escape from the dreadful circumstances of being linked to him.

Instead, the burden would flow into Rem.

“—……”

Sleeping Rem said nothing.

Bravely, she would continue to transfer the enormous mana needed by Ram through the white horn she held with her intertwined fingers—using the broken horn Ram once had as a catalyst, she continued to send mana flowing into Ram.

The immense burden that could be placed on Rem’s body from transferring Ram’s needed mana was unimaginable.

—Thus, it was a short-term battle.

“Hey, so—!!”

Batenkaitos, having been kicked away, came flying back toward me.

Utilizing the powers of the “Leaper,” he erased the distance his presence had previously occupied—but even those ghostly skills would mean nothing if the opponent was well aware.

“You’re slow, you fool. At this rate, Ram will grow old.”

I stole a glance into my opponent’s view with “Clairvoyance.”

My opponent’s focus, movements of the eyes, and the tense moment of strength—integrating those elements made it much easier to read the aim than reading minds.

I avoided the palm thrust aimed at me, bending my five fingers as I slipped past to the opposite side.

I slammed an elbow strike into the vocal cords nearly letting out a scream, then struck with a sharp spinning kick, driving the opponent into the wall.

“Ugh…!”

“More importantly, Ram is still cute even while aging.”

While saying so, I gripped the collar of their clothes and yanked them back before slamming their head into the ground once more, driving my heel hard onto their face, shattering their nose.

I dodged away from the grabbing arms and struck countless Wind Blades right into them.

“—Uwaaaah!!”

“With that pretty face, what a terribly ugly scream you’ll let out.”

As Batenkaitos was shredded to pieces by the Wind Blades, showered in blood while he was sent flying.

His body continued to writhe restlessly in an endless display of change, yet persistently, only the head remained unchanged from what I had come to know.

I felt sick. There was no class to such an action, though Ram did not stoop so low.

“—…”

As Batenkaitos bled excessively, he launched himself recklessly toward me.

In truth, he likely employed otherworldly magnificent techniques. He must have been combining various transcendent abilities to craft techniques that essentially couldn’t be replicated by anyone.

I crushed this excellently specialized attack with violence that surpassed his.

Hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands of an immense technique, all twisted and crushed with an unfathomable force. This had turned into a fight of that nature.

I would not allow Batenkaitos to touch me. Things were going well.

Unlike Subaru, I had resumed my composure. I removed a further two restraining elements.

I would wager I was half as powerful as I was at my peak—no, I was much stronger now as I had dramatically grown since the days I was a child.

And it was my strength that allowed me not to drown in that power.

“Indeed, breaking my horn was the correct choice.”

Had that night not happened, I might have eventually succumbed to the temptation of my own horn.

If one were to dismiss that possibility, the true answer for what hasn’t transpired remains a mystery. Thus, I certainly felt excellent about the path I had taken.

Thanks to losing my horn, I had been spared from becoming the “Oni” I had always loathed.

“Ultimately, had that night not occurred, I would never have met Lord Roswaal, making the comparison utterly meaningless.”

Reaching an unparalleled conclusion, I extended my palm forward as my answer.

Within reach of that palm, Batenkaitos leaped forth from a spatial jump. Faced with his astonished expression at being predicted, I seized that face with a grip.

“You can’t leap consecutively, right? I’m bored of your tricks—enough of that face.”

“W-wait—”

“I won’t wait.”

Coldly dismissing him, I unleashed a Wind Blade from my grasp, simultaneously.

In that instant, the mouth, nose, lips, ears, and all conceivable parts of his face were sliced together. While Batenkaitos screamed and bled profusely.

Would I be able to keep slicing until I reduced his face to nothing?

Yet, just as I executed that intent, Batenkaitos’s form instantly vanished from my grip.

However, no matter how far he ran, he could not escape his wounds, his pain, or reality.

“Ah, aaaaaahhh—!!”

While shrieking in agony, Batenkaitos thrashed about, pouring forth vast amounts of blood in place of tears.

Watching this, I steadily advanced toward him.

As my footsteps drew near, Batenkaitos’s shape seemed to transform.

It took the form of a tall and sturdy physique. —I smashed his incoming punch downward, and then broke his knee.

He was kicked down, and in an effort to escape from Ram, Batenkaitos transformed once more into a bearded giant, curling up defensively.—I raised this form up with a powerful kick, pinning it against the ceiling, reshaping the prideful skin beneath it into a gelatinous mass.

In his unending suffering, Ram caused Batenkaitos to mutate in his attempts to slay her.

He shifted to that of a balding elder, employing untraceable techniques. —I caught him, feeling pity for what had become of his tricks, pressing his face against the wall and running it along.

“Aaahh, b-b-b-b-b-bbaaa—!!”

Ram, while restrained by her immense strength, shredded Batenkaitos mercilessly, while he continuously transformed in search of the optimal solution.

I sealed every one of those attempts with my overwhelming presence, paying homage to the hundreds, thousands, even millions of souls who had perished.

Those who were consumed by “Gluttony,” who crossed paths with the skills I had meticulously honed, who followed the paths I walked, who nursed the love I had cherished—those who had been trampled upon and disregarded, I offered reparation through sheer force.

No longer would they be made to serve as tools for others.

Not a single one of those would remain effective against Ram.

“Take responsibility for your own actions.”

With a powerful sweep, I discarded the blasphemer who had been utterly crushed.

He tumbled onto the corridor of the watchtower, trembling violently in pitiful defeat. Batenkaitos’s form slowly, slowly began to shift.

His visage, reliant on a multitude of “memories,” morphed—

“Oh, it’s been a while. I missed that face. Top three or so, I suppose.”

“—Eh, a-aah…”

As I wiped the blood from my forehead, I smiled down at the newly revealed Batenkaitos.

He was truly Batenkaitos. No longer the borrowed tricks and guise of another, but the one who had returned to his true form.

Regardless of who he was or whom he relied upon, he could never escape from himself.

Even if his horn were shattered, he could not alter the fact that Ram remained a demon.

Even if his “memories” were stripped, the reality that Ram remained Rem’s elder sister would not change.

“Why don’t you at least try to be defiant in your final moments?”

“—……”

“By the way, you mentioned something intriguing on the spiral staircase. —It seems you have a brother and sister. What if you showed a bit of pride for them?”

Batenkaitos, lying prostrate, took a moment to catch his breath.

It was not that he had lost his life. His reaction was to my words.

Upon hearing the phrases “brother” and “sister,” Batenkaitos’s breathing became slightly steadied. He slowly began to rise from the ground—

“We, our… our younger sister…”

“To say to not touch her? Sadly, I wonder if you’re in a position to make such a claim? Have you ever listened to another’s pleas even once?”

“That, too…”

“—……”

With a bloodied, distorted face, Batenkaitos pleaded in a voice filled with tears.

Hearing that painful tone, Ram’s eyes narrowed slightly. Then I sighed and cast my gaze away.

“Think about it—”

“—Sister, you are too kind.”

In that moment, just as my gaze faltered, Batenkaitos left behind those words and vanished.

Using the “Leaper” Dorkel’s space-jumping technique—he vanished without a trace, the blasphemer disappeared from sight.

—He had fled.

—

“Haha! Ahahaha! Ahahahahhaha!”

Batenkaitos, utilizing Dorkel the Leaper’s abilities, escaped from Ram’s domain.

He no longer harbored thoughts of devouring Ram. Without hesitating, he chose to flee.

He couldn’t win. He couldn’t win. He couldn’t defeat me.

As I had thought, he was a monster. Even if I bought time, he’d return stronger than before.

He was an entity that belonged on neither the plates of gourmet or bad food.

“Sorry for Rui and Roy, but the prep for a full course of gourmet is paramount!”

While ignoring the wounds across his body, Batenkaitos laughed at the siblings who targeted the same prey.

Rui had already left the battlefield, and Roy was causing havoc elsewhere. Ideally, I hoped that Oni would go after the duo, allowing me to escape comfortably.

Though the “Bad-Eater” Roy had difficulty understanding when to retreat, the reality was unavoidable.

In fact, I had grown weary of Roy’s insatiable “Bad-Eating.” His disruptions to my feeding ground had likely stolen what should have rightfully come to me.

—No, what I had eaten thus far was truly considered “Gourmet?”

“None of them are useful… Ah, damn it! Damn it, damn it! To think there was something like that! I wish I had remained oblivious to it!”

Those feelings did not arise from the younger sister’s love for her elder sister.

Instead, what surged forth was an unfathomable desire—a longing for some monumental presence, born from deep within Batenkaitos himself, a desire he fervently wished to fulfill from the very bottom of his heart.

He wanted to consume it. He wished to savor it, with all his being.

Having claimed to be a “Gourmet,” he thought he had devoured every emotion and every talented creation. But now that he became aware that “the Real” existed, everything around him felt muted.

What had once appeared to be a lavish table was reduced to a sandbox affair with mud pies.

“I want that!”

Want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want!

For the sake of sampling it, he’d throw everything else away.

For the sake of consuming it, he would have no regrets losing everything he had.

He didn’t want to taste anything else. He would fill himself only with that.

“Ugh…!”

As he ran, spittle escaped the edges of Batenkaitos’s mouth.

Neither pain nor suffering caused it. Instead, he could hardly endure it. To learn that what he believed to be the best wasn’t, and to discover the ultimate existence made everything he had tasted feel filthy.

Why had he once envisioned that anything else was marvelous? Why had he ever praised those tasteless delights? Why had he ever savored them?

What use was calling oneself a “Gourmet” while loving everything that wasn’t truly “great”?

“Ah, yes, yes, that’s it, yes, yes, yes! Gluttony! Gluttony!”

Amidst the delirious hunger and the rising appetite, and the sincere cries of desperation from his heart.

To blend into one, to merge, and about allowing Gluttony to consume external beings, the ultimate hunger pushing him forward—this was the epitome of love.

“I love you, I love you… yes! I love you! I love you, Ram! We love you—”

The immense emotion that sprouted within him erupted into fevered declarations, yet the words he wished to express suddenly stuttered to a halt.

The cause was pain, born from a newfound agony that emerged.

“—huh?”

As he pressed his cheeks together, feeling the blood-soaked palms of Batenkaitos, he confirmed the new wound, a tear cut through the cheek as he sprinted toward the tower’s exit.

Caused by nothing more than empty space.

“—……”

With his fingers failing to make contact, Batenkaitos observed as his fingertips were severed.

There was an invisible blade present in the void.

“Huh.”

It mirrored the technique Batenkaitos had demonstrated to Ram atop the spiral staircase.

The ability to plant unseen blades within the air could be traced back to the legendary Shinobi’s technique, but whose “memories” it derived from, he had long since discarded.

The problem lay in the fact there were blades placed here that Batenkaitos had no recollection of laying down himself.

“Could it be…?”

As he evaded the shallow edge of the invisible blade, he tried to advance deeper inward—only to feel his toes shatter, leading to a shriek.

The back of his head also felt the pressure of being gently slashed, leaving him standing still, frozen in place.

—He was surrounded by unseen knives.

“……Huh?”

Only having demonstrated it once.

In the heat of battle, behind the air, it wouldn’t have been visible.

Moreover, she hadn’t even set foot here in this place. Yet, she intercepted his escape route and set up the hidden swords in advance.

“—……”

Batenkaitos placed his hand over the unscathed right eye, not the left, which had been mangled and shredded by the Wind Blade. —Through “Clairvoyance,” Ram shared this vision.

She wouldn’t allow him to flee; she wouldn’t permit it to overlap her vision.

“Ah!”

Batenkaitos, resorting to an incredulous laugh, could do nothing else.

He was in love. He had fiercely yearned for something for the first time. He found himself enamored with its nature, brilliant and unusual.

Then—

“Ah! Wait, wait! Just wait! Just a little longer! Just a tiny little longer, please!”

No matter how much he pleaded with his “Clairvoyance,” he understood words wouldn’t reach her.

Thus, his frantic calls were not to convey to Ram, but to energize and motivate himself.

In a hurry, Batenkaitos flung himself against the wall right beside him.

His urge to discard everything he had ingested nearly cost him dearly. Had he retained even a shred of the “Fist King,” he would have avoided this mess.

Prioritizing his emotions, he slammed his hands down against the hidden blades. With that, both wrists were severed, and blood gushed forth in response.

Pain, excruciating pain, pain, pain—pain, but right now, pain mattered little.

“Accept my feelings! Bear witness to our wish!”

All the while, with blood spewing forth, Batenkaitos pressed his arm against the wall with all his strength, etching letters into it.

Beneath the surface, cloaked within the darkness, with all his efforts, he wrote large letters etched in murky blood upon the walls of the sandy tower.

“Ugh!”

After stepping back, he opened his right eye, gazing intently at the letters he had inscribed.

What was drawn in blood should reach the one he craved with all his being.

If it were her, surely even until the very end, she would witness everything, alongside him.

“Ah, I love you—”

Before he could complete that sentence, the head of the Archbishop of Gluttony was severed by a wind blade.

—

“—Huraa!”

With a flick of her fingers, Ram released a wind blade, uttering a single word.

The size of the magic may have affected the effective range, but the power itself remained largely unchanged. To slice through a slender neck, the minimum amount of force sufficed.

As she chased after the escaping “Gluttony,” Ram sent forth but one wind blade.

The panicked strides of the fleeing “Gluttony” were easily tracked using “Clairvoyance.” She devised several small delays in order to guarantee her aim was precise, which seemed to work better than expected.

Then, just as her final blade was about to meet its target, “Gluttony” took a bizarre action.

He severed his own arm and used the blood to write on the wall.

Awfully uneven, pathetically one-sided, offering no sense of worth—diligent in its vile provocation—

“—……”

In a final moment, Ram bore witness as the letters spun around and flew off.

She closed her eyes in that instant, as she had only felt at ease when doing so. She could not find comfort or safety without knowing.

The blasphemer had erred in his final decision.

If he were to risk his life for his brother and sister, Ram may have acted without mercy.

Yet, he had baited her into a trap with that bait, using them as tools to ensure his own survival.

It didn’t seem he knew a means of returning what he had consumed. If he recognized that, he would have bartered it as a plea for mercy—but that did not transpire. Hence he was doomed to face the consequences.

“Those who wield swords shall face swords; those who cling to magic shall fall to magic; those who surrender to flames shall be set alight. —And those that call upon demons will be obliterated by them, along with the source in which they placed their trust.”

—That was the divine retribution that Ram believed in.

She lowered her arms and took a long breath.

With that, Ram turned around, retracing the much-ravaged corridor. She hadn’t been able to fight close by, so she deliberately distanced herself.

That increasing sense of urgency led to her naturally quickening her pace.

“—!”

As she stepped carefully over the damaged wall and returned, the loud cries of the Earth Dragon greeted Ram.

The pitch-black Earth Dragon, using its body, skillfully hid the form of Rem behind it. If it so happened that Ram hadn’t been the one returning, it must have intended to act as a shield.

Even with such heavy injuries, the loyal beast diligently clung to the orders given by Subaru—truly, that Earth Dragon was more than a match for his worth—

“—No, that’s not quite it. Did you wish to protect Rem too?”

“—……”

“Indeed… good boy, Patrasche.”

Gently, she stroked the dragon’s neck,

And soon, she would need to carry the injured Rem into the “Green Room.” Such a display of exceptional loyalty, even this dragon could not bare with this level of injury.

Ram didn’t wish to impose undue hardship on the benefactor of her sister.

Having comforted the Earth Dragon, Ram finally approached Rem, who had been sheltered behind her.

The sharing of the horn’s power through “synesthesia” had already ceased, but the absence of her horns remained on her forehead. Nevertheless, the backlash from having shouldered Ram’s godly strength was clearly taking a toll.

Thinking of the backlash that would soon inevitably come was burdensome to Ram.

Yet—

“Now, I shall not entertain needless thoughts.”

Kneeling slowly at that place, Ram placed her hand upon the cheek of her sleeping sister.

The bonds of sisterhood that had felt unreal before now resonated with a solid awareness, and the warmth of love and care flooded her heart.

She had been broken of her horns, lost the powers of the returning Oni Demon, and thus, she had simply carried on until today.

Ram had concluded that the night of flames was what birthed her very own self, and she held onto that belief without having deemed it as incorrect.

But now, from this moment forward, everything had shifted.

The night Ram’s horn had shattered was to—

“—ensure Ram realizes she is Rem’s older sister, even here today.”

Through their souls’ communion, the two lived in tandem, brothers and sisters of one world, realizing the precious bond that existed between them.

“Today more than ever, I want to tell you everything. I want to know all about the time you and Ram spent together. I want to fill in the missing memories we’ve shared across the past.”

Since time never stopped, this future would bear countless new memories.

Thus, to prevent everything from fading away into forgotten oblivion, every night I would release blooming flowers of memories together.

“Let’s talk about all the many yesterdays.”

The “Sleeping Princess” never uttered a word in response.

Nevertheless, this silence didn’t choke Ram’s heart; she felt it filled with warmth as she smiled.

Smiling, she would no longer doubt her feelings and moved her lips to speak.

“—I love you, Rem.”

Without a doubt, no matter how many experiences they amassed together, this feeling would not betray her.

Curiously enough, uttering the same words as the twisted Archbishop in his final moments, despite being the same words, they produced completely different echoes.

Forbetween a being that knew not love and one that lived with love, their resonances could never be comparable.

Their echoes would never, ever be the same.

 

---