The elderly state of “Cloud Dragon” Mezoleia.

The astonishing fact that had come to light was thrusting Emilia into an incredibly difficult predicament.

“When it was Volcanica, the goal was not to defeat it, but to finish the ‘test’, so I could hold my ground…”

The encounter with “Divine Dragon” Volcanica at the highest level of the Pleiades Watchtower was resolved by touching the monument at the very top of the tower.

As for Emilia, she still feels unsure if that was truly the right outcome for Volcanica’s ‘test’, but the ancient dragon living since time immemorial granted her a claw as proof.

Thus, for now, she accepted that she had been recognized.

Nevertheless, the battle against Volcanica had basically been pure defense, and since she didn’t plan on defeating it, it hadn’t really felt like a battle at all.

And that situation didn’t change, even when the opponent transformed from “Divine Dragon” to “Cloud Dragon.”

Rather—

“The only way is to defeat it, and Mezoleia is going to despair—!”

While saying this, Emilia jumped high into the air, approaching the white dragon in the sky.

The dragon, whose long beard waved elegantly and whose white eyes revealed nothing, mercilessly swung its arms at the tiny figure flying towards it, striking down with its dragon claws.

It was a careless strike yet powerful enough to obliterate a life if it hit.

The dragon’s claws were far sharper than any ordinary sword, easily capable of slicing Emilia’s body in two.

“Soldiers!”

However, Emilia dodged this strike by jumping even higher in midair.

The ice soldier that had jumped alongside her became the foothold for Emilia as she pushed off its outstretched arms.

Naturally, the slower ice soldier became the dragon’s target and was shattered into pieces.

“Take that!”

With the sacrifice in her heart, Emilia’s long leg kicked Mezoleia square in the face.

Emilia wore ice adornments on her foot, extending the sharp parts, turning her kick into a vicious weapon.

With her foot, she held nothing back, unleashing a serious kick—one that was unbelievably vicious—smashing powerfully against Mezoleia’s defenseless side.

However—

“That didn’t hurt at all!”

Mezoleia’s enormous body didn’t shake even slightly from being kicked.

However, it seemed to find her annoying. Feeling the prickle of hostility, Emilia quickly arched her body midair, using another ice soldier’s hand to dodge the dragon’s claws.

Trailing behind the shattered soldier, the higher-jumping ice soldier extended both feet from above. Emilia’s body fell to the ground as she landed on the soles of its ice shoes.

Hearing the sound of ice shattering in her eardrums, Emilia placed her hand on the white ground, looking up at the majestic dragon shrouded in clouds floating above.

“I am Mezoleia. I shall become the wind from the sky, following the voice of my cherished child.”

“Enough already… with that same line…!”

Having kicked her in the face and shattered two ice soldiers with its claws, Mezoleia’s words and attitude had not changed since it first descended onto the battlefield.

“——”

It should recognize Emilia as an enemy.

That’s why it swings its claws at approaching Emilia, flapping its wings, and directing its blurred white gaze towards her.

However, conversation was unthinkable. Finding a resolution like with Volcanica proved to be difficult.

One possible clue was—

“Madelin! Please listen to me!”

“Shut up! Don’t speak casually to a dragon!!”

Turning around, the only lifeline Emilia could rely on roughly swatted away her outstretched hand with violence.

Having lost her Wing Blade, Emilia dodges as Madelin Eshault, exhaling white breath, glowed with golden eyes as she stomped with destruction’s arm raised.

Barely evading, Emilia grit her teeth.

The strategy to drastically lower the temperature had successfully kept Madelin and Mezoleia from causing chaos on the battlefield, but beyond that proved challenging.

“Human, human, human…!!”

Madelin, with her eyes stained with fury, was surrounded by white steam. She felt similar to Mezoleia, clad in clouds, yet distinctly different.

Madelin’s body temperature had risen to intolerable levels, causing the falling snow to melt and vanish the moment it touched her—no, even before it contacted Madelin.

The same was occurring around Mezoleia, and the “Pack’s mimicry” strategy was clearly not working for the duo.

Then—

“Icicle Line!”

Keeping the ice wall that divided the battlefield intact, Emilia redirected the cold’s deployment. She was not preserving energy because the plan had failed.

If the area was too wide to have an adequate effect on Madelin and Mezoleia, then—

“I’m going to unleash all this cold at once!”

Emilia drew invisible lines around Madelin approaching from the front and concentrated the cold she had spread across the battlefield’s second peak into a single point.

This wasn’t just a simple cold; true extreme cold enveloped Madelin’s tiny body, collapsing the dragon kin’s body temperature that had turned snow into vapor.

“—Ugh!?”

Even Madelin, caught off guard by the unexpected extreme cold barrier, found her whole body freezing solid.

As her eyes widened, seeing Madelin turning white right before her, Emilia threw herself into action, dedicating everything to temporarily encase her in ice.

“Please…”

As Emilia focused her power on freezing Madelin, she prayed it would keep Mezoleia’s actions at bay.

Should a “Cloud Dragon” take part and stir chaos, Emilia would have no choice but to halt her attacks. However, from her peripheral vision, she could see Mezoleia floating nonchalantly in the sky, making no moves to intervene amid Madelin’s peril.

“This is odd, but—”

In this situation, it was fortunate that Mezoleia remained still.

When Mezoleia appeared in response to Madelin’s call from the sky, Emilia braced herself for a potential further worsening of her situation.

Yet upon seeing the scenario unfold, Mezoleia and Madelin did not cooperate at all; whenever one attacked, the other rested, and as soon as one finished, the other began.

From Emilia’s perspective, it felt as though a series of one-on-one exchanges were taking place.

Of course, despite this, Emilia’s stamina gradually drained, and she doubted whether she could easily overcome either Madelin or Mezoleia in a duel.

Even so—

“Stop…!”

“I’m sorry, Madelin. I really think I should talk to you. But if you’re not going to listen, you have to sit still for now!”

“Ugh—!”

Madeline’s whole body creaked painfully as she glowered fiercely, revealing sharp fangs.

However, if she were frozen within to the core, even that sturdy and vibrant dragon kin couldn’t avoid losing her freedom.

“——”

With blood, flesh, bones, and skin all whitened, Emilia encased Madelin in ice.

With her hands stretched out just before reaching Emilia’s chest, Madelin’s body froze mid-motion; Emilia, gazing at the unmoving girl, exhaled deeply.

“That was a close one…”

Letting out a sigh of relief, she frowned slightly at the girl perched there, pale.

There was no joy or regret regarding victory or defeat. Above all, this wasn’t over yet.

“Mezoleia! I understand if you can’t talk, but we should stop fighting! If you absolutely can’t talk, why not just go home for today?”

The moment Madelin fell, Emilia considered the possibility of Mezoleia erupting into great anger, but with no signs of movement from it, Emilia felt a slight sense of relief. Yet, she couldn’t let that relief show and glared at Mezoleia with a firm expression.

She was still very much ready for action.

However, to tell the truth, Emilia had very little strength left.

Though she managed to encase Madelin in ice, maintaining that ice required constant cooling. Thus, she needed to continue exerting her strength.

So, stopping Madelin while battling Mezoleia proved exceedingly difficult.

Ideally, the best outcome would be for Mezoleia to retreat right here.

Thus—

“If you still want to keep going, I have an idea of my own!”

Emilia declared to Mezoleia with a serious glare. —That was a lie.

While she attempted to sound confident when she glared at Mezoleia, there was no real plan up her sleeve. She only hoped that perhaps Mezoleia might consider her a threat and decide to back off.

It was a bold bluff for Emilia, a rarity inspired by Subaru and Otto.

“I am Mezoleia. I shall become the wind from the sky, following the voice of my beloved child.”

In reply, Mezoleia’s low, deep voice echoed back at her.

Whether it could see her was uncertain, but the inscrutable demeanor of Mezoleia made Emilia feel as if she would crumble.

Then—

“I am Mezoleia. I shall follow the voice of my beloved child…”

“Huh?”

“I shall follow the voice of my beloved child… voice…”

It kept repeating the same thing, and just as it paused midway, Mezoleia hesitated, its expression shifting into one of distress. It started shaking its large head side to side.

“What’s going on all of a sudden? Does it have a headache?”

Seeing this change in Mezoleia, Emilia widened her purple eyes in surprise.

It was entirely natural if Madelin were to be frozen, and Mezoleia went into a rampage out of anger. That would certainly be troublesome, but that would be easier to accept than seeing it respond oddly like this.

While Emilia felt such anxiety, over her head, Mezoleia abruptly stopped moving.

“——”

The dragon, which had been shaking its head painfully, suddenly peered down at Emilia with a calm expression. The white pair of eyes, adorned above a long beard—Emilia couldn’t help but inhale sharply as she realized.

This was the first time she felt it; she was “seen” by Mezoleia.

That was unmistakable proof that the dragon bore intent and intelligence within its eyes—

“Finally, we can converse—”

“I told you, ‘Human’!”

“Eh?”

In a low voice that echoed like thunder from the sky, the dragon turned its gaze towards Emilia. While being pierced by its glance, Emilia froze, feeling an entirely different shock.

It wasn’t surprise at being stared down by something far more powerful than herself.

No, the rage in its voice echoed what had just previously been directed toward her.

So, the dragon continued, confirming Emilia’s rising panic.

“I possess no words to converse with you, human.”

“Madelin—”

Frozen in disbelief, Emilia became momentarily paralyzed as she could not move.

Before her, the dragon opened its mouth wide, merely letting out a breath. —And that breath, transformed into radiant white light, engulfing the world in the essence of the “Cloud Dragon.”

When the terrifying essence of the dragon was infused with undeniable intent, it unrelentingly poured down upon Emilia.

△▼△▼△▼△

The Pleiades Battalion that intervened from the west produced its effects across the battlefield.

Naturally, the group most affected by the battalion’s influence was the defense forces of the Fourth Peak, which had been on the verge of collapse after suffering a catastrophic damage previously unseen.

However, while not directly related, the impact before and after Pleiades Battalion’s participation was considerably felt by the Third Peak.

Originally, the forces sent to the Third Peak, typically the Empire’s trump card, were expected to serve as decoys to draw out the “Magical Crystal Cannon.”

In preparing for the operation conveyed by Abel, Zikuru was resigned to becoming a sacrifice. Though some of the forces—the “People of Shudrak”—managed to evade the line of fire of the Magical Crystal Cannon, compared to the damages expected for Third Peak, they were merely a slight advantage.

In any event, the losses at Third Peak were foreseen to transpire.

If those losses didn’t occur, Zikuru’s plans initially calculated by Abel of the traitor’s painful defeat would backfire. Yet, the fact that they remained was not wrong. Adjusting the unexpected situation, Abel quickly revised his tactics, blending the original plan with the present facts.

As a result—

“—That is the Flying Dragon Corps led by Selena Dracloy.”

In the midst of the chaos with the stone golem, Zikuru murmured this while swinging his military sword from atop his steed, Lady.

His wide eyes looked toward Tathagale, a stunning aerial duel contrasting white and breathtaking colors across the sky—those blossoming across the battlefield.

On one side, a horde of wild flying dragons, obediently rampaging under the command of the “Flying Dragon General” Madelin Eshault, entered the battle with their savagery fully unleashed.

On the other side, flying dragons and their riders soared, showcasing their trust in each other while confining their ferocity within.

Numerically, the wild flying dragons overwhelmingly outnumbered the mounted ones, but it was clear who exhibited greater skill in aerial combat.

The untamed flying dragons let loose their exuberant violence, indiscriminately biting and clawing, whereas the riders moved with grace and accuracy, gracefully evading the dragons’ fangs while their weapons seamlessly pierced the wings of the wild dragons.

“Just how different can things be…?”

As one of the Empire’s top generals, Zikuru, alongside fellow dragon riders, was well acquainted with these usual notions, the wild flying dragons led by Madelin had increasingly strayed from his conventional understanding.

Yet, the overwhelming power of numbers was hard to contend with, and the realization of being completely overwhelmed in the castle city remained as a thorn in his heart. That realization would soon be overturned.

One way or another, witnessing the undeniable competence of the Empire’s traditional “Flying Dragon Knights” was an eye-opener.

“If the strategies devised by my lord bear fruit, then I must follow suit.”

As Abel played his cards and the Flying Dragon Corps of Baron Dracloy was deployed, Zikuru regained some leeway to observe the environment as the overwhelming aerial dominance of the flying dragons began to fade.

Having pushed through to boost morale, Zikuru began issuing directions amidst the chaos, progressing into the enemy ranks where Moguro Hagane, seamlessly integrated into the city’s walls, awaited.

“I hope Lady Beatrice is safe…”

Within his thoughts, memories of the girl adorned in that luxurious dress and the pale hair that cascaded atop her shoulders—more than likely, his life savior, Beatrice, occupied Zikuru’s mind.

The moment the “Magical Crystal Cannon” was fired, he vividly recalled seeing a girl who had also thrown herself in front of the oncoming light, deflecting it somehow.

Having been short in stature, Beatrice seemed diminutive enough to be mistaken as a pebble against the sky, yet Zikuru was absolutely certain that it was indeed her.

Once he had locked eyes, he could never misidentify a woman again. That was Zikuru’s unique talent.

Thus, he could claim with conviction that Beatrice had somehow managed to deal with the attack of the Magical Crystal Cannon.

The issue remained that he couldn’t shake the fact that her actions likely came with dire repercussions.

“Please, let her be safe—!!”

In his heart, Zikuru wanted to proclaim loudly that Beatrice, who had rewritten their dire situation, deserved the greatest honor of all, and that he must ensure her safety at all costs.

Yet, midst this battle, having escaped his own fate, Zikuru had the role of a “general” to fulfill.

Thus, the only thing Zikuru could do was pray.

—That the little bit of happiness he had left would rain down solely on that girl.

On the other side, just as Zikuru hoped for the safety of the frontliners, at the moment when the “Magical Crystal Cannon” was unnaturally extinguished, Talitta had witnessed who had accomplished this.

“You ordered us to fall back; it helps to have been looking over the battlefield…”

Having barely withstood a crippling blow, the rebels struggled to regroup. Zikuru, leading the charge, ordered the “Shudrak’s People” to provide cover from the rear.

While Zikuru’s decision to forgo involving Shudrak in the total assault drew complaints from Mizelda, Talitta accepted this was likely a calculated command from Zikuru.

However—

“Isn’t it absurd? To try and help us alone? Looks like Shudrak has been underestimated.”

“Sister…”

Reflecting on recent events, Mizelda’s sense of anger was justified.

The Crystal Palace of the Imperial Capital, originally Abel’s residence, housed the “Magical Crystal Cannon,” something he surely knew about. The strange order from Zikuru was thus incomprehensible.

Perhaps Zikuru had decided to withdraw Shudrak against common belief.

Zikuru had readied himself to become a sacrificial piece, distancing Shudrak from that dangerous path. To be underestimated, Mizelda remarked on such a view, but perhaps it wasn’t completely correct.

It was Zikuru’s decision born from thought and consideration.

However—

“I, too, feel the same as you, sister. I’m not pleased with Zikuru’s consideration.”

Alongside her combatant mindset, Talitta reached the same conclusion as Mizelda.

While Zikuru’s demeanor had been dubbed “ladies’ man,” and he showed a certain respect for the women involved, Talitta held no rights to criticize such behavior.

But corresponding to their existence, as “People of Shudrak,” they incurred no obligation to accept criticisms either.

Thus, Talitta held her bow tightly and proclaimed,

“I’ll express our complaints directly to Zikuru.”

“Ha! A fine answer. I don’t want that Zikuru or Jamal to steal our glory. —Did you hear that, comrades!”

Mizelda, confidently pinning her artificial leg into the ground, called out to her fellow companions.

Every member of Shudrak stood firm, affirming with their gazes, facial expressions, and tones, that they shared the same sentiments on Mizelda’s words and Talitta’s resolve.

So, with renewed vigor, they marched forth to the frontlines, where Moguro Hagane guarded the Third Peak.

“—Looks like a spirited group is ready to get started.”

At that moment, a harsh, dry voice cut through the air, and Talitta and Mizelda turned in response.

Instinctively, Talitta notched an arrow and crouched down to prepare herself. This sudden encounter prompted the “People of Shudrak” to be on high alert.

However, the appearance of the unknown soon softened their tension upon recognizing her.

A girl with pink hair gliding through the grass, whose familiar face lifted in curiosity as she approached the Shudrak group.

—Though not entirely accurate, Talitta and her companions found it difficult not to draw parallels to that familiar face.

“—Hmm? You’re looking at me with some unexpected expressions. Wondering whom I am? Well, I just jumped down from a flying dragon.”

“I-I see. But that’s not what surprised us.”

“What else would it be then?”

“—You’ve got the same face as a girl we know.”

The pink-haired girl tilted her head with a questioning look as Mizelda replied to her. Soon, the girl widened her pale red eyes slightly.

Following that, she released a brief breath.

“Is that so? How have you been getting along with that girl who looks like me?”

“At least, we like her.”

In response to the question from the girl with pale red eyes, Mizelda solemnly nodded.

Talitta echoed her sentiments, and everyone in Shudrak shared a similar familiarity with the girl appearing before them.

Indeed, Natsuki Subaru had mentioned—she had a twin sister.

That sister, sharing the same face known to Talitta and the others, softly whispered “Well…” before stepping forward.

“You’ll likely get along well with Ram and you all, right?”

As she moved, they parted the way for Ram to approach, undoubtedly presenting herself before Talitta and Mizelda.

Staring into her pale red eyes, Talitta nodded.

“Yes, we hope for that too. What’s the situation?”

“I get the gist of it. The fact that there are no timid women here speaks volumes.”

Glancing around the gathered Shudrak, Ram spoke quietly.

Despite being stationed away from the skirmish unfolding at the Third Peak, she recognized why the “People of Shudrak” had done so.

Acknowledging the circumstances and intentions, she conveyed her understanding.

“Men often say things like, ‘I’m worried for your safety’ or ‘Please keep your distance,’ but allow me to say this—it’s unwarranted interference.”

“I can agree with that.”

Declaring this, Talitta nodded emphatically beside Ram.

Concerns or consideration had become a burden rather than kindness for the fighting Shudrak. They must demonstrate how they exist independently.

As Ram turned her focused attention forward, Talitta mirrored her direction. Then, the wild smile of Mizelda, now facing the opposite direction of Ram, emerged.

And then—

“It’s our first time meeting, but I’m certain. —You’re a fighter, just like Rem.”

△▼△▼△▼△

With a heavy, resonating impact, an unsettling sensation sunk deep into his core.

That unusual feeling came again as if weighted stones were keyed into his innards.

Again and again, he felt as if shackles were binding him tightly.

Each binding left him more and more obstructed by the restraints that rained down upon him. He fought to shed them, intent on rising.

However—

“Too straightforward, old man. Kafuma managed fine doing just that, but I won’t entertain such a foundation.”

“Ugh.”

The elderly man’s face, buried into the ground, disappeared in mockery.

Upon realizing this, Gafiel swung wildly, sending a devastating backfist that effortlessly pulverized the spine of his opponent’s weakened body.

Yet he sensed something had rebound differently from the old man.

Looking closer, it was a corpse tossed aside from the battlefield, ejected by the elder’s submerged body. It was too late; he realized he had stumbled into a trap.

“Look, you’re caught again.”

Gafiel’s body turned at the momentum of his backfist, attacked from behind—Old Man Olbart didn’t move from his hiding place, leaping up from below.

With nimble motions, the elderly man brushed past Gafiel, flashing an unnervingly vibrant grin.

“Only touched. I didn’t strike or slice. Just playing, you say? Underestimating me?—No, Olbart won’t do something without meaning. There’s always significance, meaning, meaning…”

“—Guh!?”

In that instant, fierce heat plunged into the shoulder where Olbart’s fingers had brushed just prior.

Olbart’s grip left a red imprint that’s now seeped into Gafiel’s shoulder. Blood dripped slowly, the warmth gradually transforming into searing pain.

“So it’s poison,” Gafiel instantly recognized the affliction.

Without hesitation, he opened wide his mouth, biting into the poisoned flesh where the red imprint materialized, ripping away his shoulder, overheated blood pouring forth. The bitter taste stained his tongue, while his skin burned with discomfort from the pain.

However, the agony was a fleeting moment. The wounds gaped, bleeding profusely, but the unprecedented trauma ignited a battling spirit that rocketed back through him.

“That was a less-than-ideal move, but it is smart.”

Gafiel released a deep breath only to face the forceful kick from Olbart hitting him squarely in the nose.

Such a powerful kick from the short-statured old man snapped Gafiel’s head back, sending him reeling as he whirled through the rugged earth.

If it hadn’t been for Gafiel’s sturdy neck, his head might have flown off entirely from that kick.

Yet, remaining attached, Gafiel languidly reached for the broken nose, pulling it back into a proper alignment with a deep crack echoing, allowing the blood to flow freely.

“…These dudes are so difficult to kill just by their sheer existence. I’m not talking emotionally but in terms of physical might.”

Gafiel gazed at his grotesque appearance, his thoughts contained a pang of disdain as Glartos sighed in disbelief.

How many times had he dealt out punishment to Gafiel? Counting would stretch beyond the old man’s missing hand.

“—You’re being loud, old man. I’m not done yet.”

Spouting blood vapor from his shoulder, Gafiel began to push himself back to his feet.

His naked torso dotted with wounds, traces of his unyielding struggle continued to resonate with the beefiest version of the Empire, yet he would not falter.

If gauged based on the Empire’s rigid expectations, that valor would certainly be recognized admirably by many soldiers, yet Olbart, his pregnant excuse, remained completely unaware.

With utterly indifferent eyes, Olbart shrugged.

“I can’t afford to pay attention to you all day long. Honestly, checking out this wall looks far more dangerous. Something troublesome has made its entrance, and not returning would be so bad.”

“Troublesome, you say…?”

“Just listen closely. You’re only deafened by an echo of an old man.”

Setting his ears against Olbart’s command, Gafiel was ironically yielding to the pressures of his ego. Annoyed but curious, he found himself keenly aware.

He could easily sense the arrival of a significant number of footsteps that would render him faint-hearted while shifting the atmosphere dramatically.

“No way, really? Displaying defenselessness in front of me is far too audacious.”

In an instant, an explosive force detonated in the regions beside Gafiel’s head.

The deafening noise and crimson flash spread with a burning heat—enough power to disintegrate a man into dust filled the air, the blast engulfing Gafiel.

“Now, this was supposed to-”

As Olbart focused upon the explosion, Gafiel, consumed by flames, seized the moment to launch himself from the fire.

Knowing it was only a matter of time until Olbart would act, Gafiel dashed indistinctly only to appear directly behind him.

“Young one, you seem to have moved quickly.”

Gafiel’s arms shot upward, gripping Olbart’s chin and thrusting him violently into the air.

With his face soaring high, Olbart’s form snickered with each upward motion, observing something rather amusing as he awaited the monstrous increased leg.

“If what Kafuma has gathered today arrives, this will be enough to hold this fort. …as long as you’re not around, nobody can slip away.”

That statement put Olbart’s intentions on display, indicating that his engagement in this clash had waned.

With rage glowing in his eyes, Gafiel alsowrapped both arms up near his face, trying to launch olbart off his shoulder in the form of a shove.

However, in haste, Olbart leaped sideways, keenly avoiding both arms, with swift movement that targeted his weak point slicing blindly.

“Even you know, you can be killed if your neck gives way?”

The chilling announce of death crept up Gafiel’s spine, and he tensed, attempting to leap out of the way—

“—Your chest.”

In that fleeting moment, following the voice, Gafiel unwittingly clasped both palms together over his heart.

“Ugh,” he let out a cracked groan as the sound of steel skimming—that precise attack Gafiel dissipated only to exercise a defense of one’s own life.

Alongside its clenching grip around Gafiel’s heart, droves of dreadighting echoed back to Gafiel, while the deadly forces surfaced with much brutality.

He would die, unavoidably.

Yet for Gafiel, he was still standing and hardly lacked the will to fight against his fading vision.

“Ugh, you old fart”

“How rude— I expected at least a word of gratitude from you.”

As he snorted, Gafiel felt someone standing behind him, evidence of their support.

Throwing his weight into leaning against the person, Gafiel beheld the subtle air of disbelief radiating from them.

Oddly enough, he felt only ire brimming towards them. The individual preceding him was the most abhorrent annoyance he could care to point out.

Now caught between two people he despised, Gafiel could only seek revenge on Olbart.

“Once you take care of that old man, I’ll get to you next.”

“Well, that did seem fitting to take out on a helpless target. If you look here, having me around here was rather lucky for you. I’m sure you wouldn’t want Ram seeing you like this, huh?”

“Gah…!”

Verbal jabs struck Gafiel where it hurt, forcing a sharp gasp from him.

Olbart’s laughter met Gafiel’s humiliation while the two exchanged glances, handling the strange orchestrations of their conflict.

Gafiel’s inner turmoil churned as Olbart casually stated, arising from behind and extending uneaten.

“I told you before; it’s dangerous beyond that line on the ground just on this side, huh?”

With profound offense, Gafiel shot back, “How rude, old man. I can’t take that lightly right now since I came from above.”

“Above, you say?”

Olbart glanced up nonchalantly, squinting one eye.

That apparent lethargy was nothing more than a ruse designed to actively toy with Gafiel’s mentality. Keeping himself restrained, he exhaled slowly, inching backward away from danger.

“With you around here…”

“Ram’s in a different battlefield. Just in case I tried to steer her away, she wouldn’t listen.”

“…That’s certainly true.”

“You have come out of this, surely,” he remarked while maintaining his negative spin on the matter as he treated Gafiel like clay.

“Trust me, though I’ll still put in some proper work.”

As he said that, strolling beside and joining Gafiel was the familiar face that masked itself stealthily, Roswaal L. Meiastars, who kept one eye on Gafiel along with Olbart.

“—I’ve had my share of clashes with shinobi too,” he added while stretching the devilish smirk across his face, sending praise to an unprepared enemy regardless of how ruthless they acted.

“`

 

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