I pressed my fists against the ground and stood up, straining my trembling knees.

The impact resonated heavily, reaching deep into my body and making my insides scream as if they were being stirred.

If it had been mere cuts or bruises, I could have forced healing by tapping into the earth’s power through my soles. However, the mysterious techniques used by my opponent bypassed such rough defenses.

Their attitude was infuriating, and the very essence of their being was loathsome; they were among the strongest in the Empire.

The skills perfected through training beyond human comprehension mercilessly toyed with the blunt Garfiel.

Yet, I couldn’t just huddle in despair, pointing to my lack of experience or training as an excuse.

For someone like Garfiel, who was not particularly versatile, victory was the only option. There were no other answers to choose from, and above all—

“There’s no way I’m going to squat next to you!”

Grinding my teeth, I lifted my face, letting out a growl.

My gaze was fixed straight ahead, yet my thoughts were directed not at the undeniable enemy, but at the man standing beside me—a personal ‘enemy’ of sorts.

“Good grief. Your tenacity is admirable, but shouldn’t it be directed towards that old man over there rather than me?”

“It’s the ‘Shelving Kaguricon.’ Don’t you dare talk about virtue. It was you who acted foolishly long before me.”

“That was a matter of one and a half years ago… But I must admit, aside from what you know, the situation is far graver.”

The man, Roswaal, shrugged his slender shoulders and gave a response that was anything but lighthearted.

Having stripped away the makeup and discarded the comical jester’s outfit, he maintained an air of a proper noble, even while hiding his true identity.

No matter how twisted his roots were, his act was skillfully crafted to conceal it.

It was true that without that loathsome Roswaal’s advice, my life would have been in jeopardy.

Realizing this only fueled the rage boiling from the depths of Garfiel.

On the other hand—

“—Hearing that you’ve tangled with Shinobi before is somewhat hard to ignore.”

The frail old man, who looked like a member of the diminutive race, murmured this.

Waving the sleeve of his right arm, which was missing from the wrist down, his face looked like a kind old man, utterly concealing the terror he truly represented.

Including this aspect, Garfiel felt painfully aware that all this was part of a Shinobi’s arts.

Every gesture, every word, even that frail appearance served as tools to bring about another’s demise—or rather, that existence was a weapon for a Shinobi to take down their target.

The head of the Shinobi—the eerie elder—glared at Garfiel and the others—not rebuking the rudeness of intruding into a one-on-one battlefield, but rather, focusing on something else.

—The claim of having faced off against Shinobi.

“Aren’t the basics that if you clash with a Shinobi, you won’t come out alive? If you fail to take them down, the news will reach the village, and they’ll keep sending others until you die. So why are you still alive?”

“That’s a slightly complicated matter. It appears that the Shinobi I encountered also had their own circumstances. I can’t say for sure if it’s the right term, but they’re what’s referred to as a ‘defecting Shinobi.'”

“Defecting Shinobi…”

As he stroked his long white eyebrows, Olbart murmured softly.

The term that escaped Roswaal’s lips was unfamiliar even to Garfiel. After all, the existence of Shinobi was often wrapped in rumors, making it hard to tell if they even existed.

Of course, no one knew about their true nature. The phrase ‘defecting Shinobi’ was the first Garfiel had ever heard.

“A Shinobi who left the village—that’s something I haven’t heard in quite some time, you know?”

But rather than outright deny the unfamiliar term, Olbart spoke frankly about its content.

It was as if he had a grasp of the village’s situation and the Shinobi’s affairs; it seemed that he truly understood. It was not out of duty, but rather a necessary survival skill to comprehend what was in his hands.

That was the survival tactic of the Shinobi known as Roswaal Dunkelken—

“I’m unsure how long ‘for a while’ means, but it may very well be outside that range. After all, I haven’t had a face-to-face with a Shinobi in nearly forty years.”

“Huh?”

Olbart, addressing an unexpected reply from Roswaal, voiced his confusion.

Garfiel shared the same doubt. Rather, it was highly probable that all his previous statements were mere fabrications, and I was floored by his audacity.

I had never thought to ask about Roswaal’s age, but he couldn’t be older than thirty—definitely not like Emilia or Beatrice. He wasn’t even alive forty years ago.

It was outrageous to joke around with Olbart at such crucial moments—

“—It’s probably Shaske and Raizou, no? The defecting Shinobi you mentioned.”

“Well, well.”

“If we’re talking about the ones who left the village four or five decades ago and are still alive, it’s just those siblings. The rest were dealt with, so there aren’t any other options.”

Garfiel made a decisive conclusion that it was a joke, yet Olbart stubbornly engaged in a conversation. That made Garfiel’s eyes go wide, while Roswaal winked.

His yellow eyes glinted as he returned Olbart’s gaze,

“Now, am I obligated to answer whether that’s correct?”

“Not really. Creating a hook in the opponent’s mind is useful in a desperate fight. You might actually have a talent for Shinobi work.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I must decline. My desired talents and the path I wish to tread have been decided long before forty years ago.”

“Hah! Well, that’s that then.”

With a shake of his head, Roswaal brushed aside Olbart’s praise.

Not paying it much mind, he laughed, and right after, Olbart’s figure blurred. It faded, and in the blink of an eye, the distance between us vanquished. The eerie old man sprung forth, attacking towards my neck.

That was—

“—”

With a breeze flowing across my neck, Garfiel held his breath.

A deadly impact landed just a hair’s breadth away from his skin. The kick unleashed by Olbart was narrowly halted.

“Given the flow of that conversation, you aimed for him instead of me.”

“Eliminating enemies is the priority. That’s merely common sense, right?”

With power and sharpness unimaginable for his short stature, if Olbart’s kick had made contact, even Garfiel’s trained neck would not have survived unscathed.

Yet, that reckless competition was somehow avoided, thanks to the distinctive dagger that had wedged itself between my neck and the foot—a weapon with an impact point, not a blade.

That thing, called ‘Sai,’ was an obscure weapon used in the western nation of Kararagi, and it was my first encounter with it.

It saved Garfiel’s life.

With the humiliation of having Roswaal come to his aid for the second time in succession.

“O-ohhh!”

In that moment, ignited by humiliation, Garfiel’s right arm surged upward, cutting through the wind.

His target was, of course, the suspended figure of the eerie old man pivoting around the stopped kick. There was no escape in the air; it was his chance to bring down that old man by piercing his torso.

“Whew!”

However, just before Garfiel’s massive fist could make contact, Olbart twisted away with an oddly graceful maneuver, bouncing diagonally down with just his toes snagged on Roswaal’s sai.

Ducking under Garfiel’s unleashed punch, Olbart managed to distance himself low to the ground. Immediately, Garfiel sought to follow up with another attack and leaped forward—

“Let’s calm down for a moment.”

“Grr!”

His body, which intended to leap, was pulled back from behind, ruining his momentum.

Looking back, Roswaal had snagged the sai’s tip onto Garfiel’s clothes, making it clear what his intention was when something skimmed just past Garfiel’s nose—a rotating black blade slicing through the air.

“—”

“A concealed throwing blade thrown behind your back as you distance yourself from your opponent. It may seem like nothing, but Shinobi are a treasure trove of techniques like this one. Especially when your opponent is at the pinnacle of this road.”

“A peak in a narrow range? Acting all high and mighty will only get you laughed at. There’s no point in bragging about being the top of a Shinobi.”

Ignoring the missed attack, Olbart squinted one eye, maintaining a vigilant watch over Garfiel.

To be excluded from the exchange between the two was a source of another bout of humiliating frustration for Garfiel, who grit his teeth again. For not one, twice, but thrice had Roswaal saved his life.

In battling Kafuma, Garfiel had felt a sense of surpassing a wall.

Nevertheless, facing those who looked down upon the fight with Kafuma, he found himself completely powerless. It would mean he couldn’t even face Kafuma, from whom he had fallen, either.

“—Garfiel, don’t misjudge the type of strength.”

“Huh…?”

“You are strong. Therefore, your opponent will want to avoid fighting on your turf. If you understand that, much of the weakness you bear will likely vanish.”

Garfiel, clenching his fists, was told this by Roswaal as he pulled out another sai.

Holding short blunt weapons in both hands, he no longer resembled the court magician Garfiel knew; he was striving to present himself as a mere warrior.

In a moment of confusion, Garfiel finally understood the intent behind this.

Roswaal had to maintain the restriction of not using magic in this situation.

If he used magic, it could expose his true identity, and this wouldn’t be seen as an internal strife of the Empire; it could escalate to a conflict between the Kingdom and the Empire.

In other words—

“My role is limited to support… The core of fighting the Empire’s general is you, Garfiel.”

“—”

“It’s true that our affinities are poor. You’re straightforward and honest. If that’s the case, I’ll maneuver to fill those gaps. I am…”

“—A bad character.”

Garfiel cut in with Roswaal’s words, which elicited a wry smile from him.

“Indeed, I’m of bad nature. Admiring, huh?”

“Hah! Keep talking!”

Garfiel replied to Roswaal, who winked, and wiped the blood that continued to flow from his mouth with the back of his hand.

The blood-stained hand wiped clean, he exhaled deeply. From the rumbling skies came the presence of scorching heat and freezing cold, both equally threatening.

Just picturing those threats directed at his comrades sent chills creeping across his entire body.

However—

“For now.”

If he didn’t concentrate on the enemy in front of him, there might not be a next time or one after that.

“…That complicates things, making it two against one.”

Taking a deep breath, Garfiel noticed Olbart sigh. Then, Garfiel raised his eyebrows at the old man’s words.

What an odd thing to say. It frustrated him, but if they were to equate the situation with the appearance of Roswaal, it had been two against one from the moment he showed up.

“It’s only considered two against one if both of them cooperate. Just being two rude youngsters wasn’t troublesome until now.”

“Then, what’s stopping you from realizing your disadvantage and surrendering?”

“Hahaha! Fleeing in front of an enemy or abandoning a fight is nothing but the absolute minimum of disgrace. Besides, you see—”

“Besides?”

Dislodging the white eyebrows he had pinched, Olbart showed his teeth.

The old man, small in stature, released a tremendous aura of fighting spirit from his entire being,

“—I have no intention of losing even two against one.”

In an instant, the old man’s smile faded, and once more his figure vanished from sight.

In this case, not only did he have rights to move left or right, but for this ‘Malicious Old Man,’ the options extended even beneath the ground.

With that prospect in mind, Garfiel heightened his nerves—

“—Underneath!”

Prompted by the voice that reached him, Garfiel quickly pulled back.

In that moment, he locked eyes with the eerie old man rising from underground,

“Oooohhh!”

With all his strength, Olbart lifted his knee.

With the intention to pierce through the old man’s withered knee, Garfiel’s punch was brought down.

A shockwave rippled through the ground and cracked it, spreading utter destruction.

It was the first direct hit, and truly, the deadly battle with a Shinobi had begun.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　△▼△▼△▼△

—Heroes arrive late.

That’s a kind of cliché, but Subaru despised it.

To be precise, he would say he had come to feel that way through the processes of being transported to another world and experiencing various events here, thinking, “What the heck?”

“If this were a game or a comic, or inside a story, it might be okay.”

If it were events in a fictional world, such developments were necessary to hype things up.

However, as someone living in this chaotic world, the sooner an ultimate hero or powerful figure could resolve the conflicts, the better it would be.

Ideally, the hero would arrive as quickly as possible and uproot the issues in one go.

Even if it’s not story-wise interesting, it’s fine since it’s not a story. Discussing whether it’s enjoyable or not can come later, once things settle down.

“Yet, it’s pathetic that our arrival is the last one!”

On the back of a bright red wind horse, Subaru looked straight ahead, boiling with frustration.

With a battle determining the fate of the Empire, surrounded by the imperial capital, there was no easy target for his ire, but for now, Subaru was burning with anger at his own slowness.

He’d loathed all this yet ended up doing the exact same thing as the hero arriving late.

And then—

“I’ll be the one to achieve the most up until now; it’s no different than being a hero with a late arrival!”

The hero who arrives late must be the one to perform the most because they’re lamenting their tardiness.

During that time, their companions and those they need to protect or don’t want to lose were enduring pain and suffering—so the hero feels more than enough of this.

At that moment, Subaru finally understood the basis for the hero’s subsequent valor in the battles, having been late to the fray from the beginning. —They were also blaming themselves.

“Let’s do this, Beatrice!”

“El Shamak!”

With that understanding, the dark magic in the form of a girl cradled in Subaru’s arms—dark clouds forming in the air spread over the heads of the lining imperial soldiers.

It robbed them of their line of sight, draining their fighting spirit—no, it wasn’t just that. Those soldiers, clad in clouds over their heads, lost not just their vision but their ability to fight.

“Ooooooooo, here we go――!!”

With the captains now blind and frozen in place, the Pleiades Battalion crushed them in a chaotic explosion of strikes.

The defenseless weapons were taken away, armor stripped off, limbs shattered; leaving them behind as they were, that was the basic tactic of the battalion, reflecting the strategies of their boss, Subaru.

It wasn’t a matter of having resolved never to kill.

Still, he chose methods that minimized human deaths as much as possible. That was to ensure his own peace of mind as Natsuki Subaru while also—

“—I hate the Volakia Empire.”

It was a retaliation against the empire that forced him into battle, into conflict, to be a warrior.

“Schwarz, we’ve reached the wall. We need to decide whether to charge into the imperial capital or provide support to another peak.”

Shaking the ground with his extraordinary bulk, Gustav Morello rampaged.

Tasked with overseeing Gladiator Island, he was also an essential brain in the Pleiades Battalion, skillfully swinging his thick, powerful four arms to keep the approaching imperial soldiers at bay, displaying incredible fight strength.

As soldiers were sent flying by his mighty fists, Subaru focused his gaze on the approaching wall—the star-shaped walls surrounding the city marked their fourth peak.

Taking those peaks was essential to gain the upper hand in this conflict.

“What do you think, Gustav!? Should we attack or press even harder!?”

“This isn’t my specialty. I will only present the possible merits and demerits.—By entering the capital and reaching the Crystal Palace, we can hasten our conclusion. If I aid another peak, we can lessen the damage on both sides with our strength. That’s all.”

“Quite the dilemma! While it’s frustrating, I appreciate your calmness during a fight, but your nature of not making decisions can be so aggravating.”

However, while suggesting possibilities, he doesn’t force what should be chosen.

Thanks to Gustav holding that line, the Pleiades Battalion has yet to disband and remained united.

If there was another reason for the battalion’s cohesion aside from Gustav’s attitude—

“Gustav! Take half with Hiaine, who’s holding the flag, to aid another battle! Vaits! Split the other half to maintain this position! I’m leaving it to you!”

It was up to Subaru to ensure the decisions endowed to him were executed properly.

“—I acknowledge this.”

“Leave it to me, brother! Assume you’re on the same boat!”

“It is only natural to be on the same boat, lizard…! Since you asked, I will listen…”

Responses came one after another from those specifically named, in response to Subaru’s decisions.

Gustav’s presented options would be taken in luxury. They would have to distribute their strength to both different battlefields, but—

“—We can do this!”

With Subaru’s declaration, the spirit of the battalion members surged even further.

This was the unity marking the comrades who had fought alongside him from that hellish island, arriving at this point together.

“Schwarz, what will we do!?”

“It’s obvious! We’re charging through boldly to the other side of the wall!”

With the reins of the wind horse in hand, Idra asked alongside Subaru.

With an unambiguous answer that was exhilarating, Subaru pointed toward the wall before him. And while keeping his gaze fixed on that proud wall, he opened his mouth,

“Do it, Tanzer! I’m counting on you!”

“—Schwarz-sama, what a convenient attitude.”

Responding to Subaru’s rallying shout, a quick-moving petite shadow leaped forth right beside him.

Kicking off the ground while holding up the hem of her kimono was Tanzer. She had formed a peculiar bond with Subaru and was an indispensable presence in the Pleiades Battalion.

That was because she was— the strongest attacker in the Pleiades Battalion.

“—Haaah!”

The Tanzer, flying like a bullet, spun in the air, her geta feet driving into the wall with a forceful strike.

With a beat, immediately after, the sturdy wall was shattered, as Tanzer’s figure pierced through it. A shockwave caused cracks to ripple across that wall’s fourth peak.

“Keep it up, keep it up, keep it up――!!”

“Oooooo――!!”

The momentum of the Pleiades Battalion crashed into the place where Tanzer dealt the first blow, in accordance with Subaru’s command.

That was more like a singular strike from the Pleiades Battalion as one living creature than a series of individual attacks, and even the magnificently fortified walls of Imperial Capital Rupugana were reduced to nothing.

“—”

With a roar, creating an astounding cloud of dust, the wall was physically opened.

Witnessing that overwhelming sight, Subaru made a victory pose, while Beatrice widened her round eyes in awe amidst his arms.

“To break through that wall so easily… that’s utterly extraordinary…”

“—That is the Pleiades Battalion.”

Responding to Beatrice’s astonished murmur, Tanzer descended from the dust cloud, dusting off the dirt on her kimono.

Though she rarely exhibited much in the way of camaraderie, this time, she did appear to have an air of slight pride.

Seeing through Tanzer’s demeanor, Beatrice did not seem amused.

“You have such a cocky face…!”

“Though you call me cheeky, I was born with this face.”

“Expressions are different! You can change your expressions!”

“Ugh! Ah, ugh!”

Looking down at the composed Tanzer, Beatrice flushed smoothly from atop her horse. Then, echoing the stance of Beatrice was Lui, clinging to her back and starting to chime in.

As the girls’ clamor grew, Subaru raised his voice, “Wait, wait, calm down!”

“Don’t fight! We’re a team! Allies! One ‘Gou’!”

“Gou…?”

“I understand, Schwarz-sama.”

“Mmmm, huh?”

Beatrice, tilting her head at the unfamiliar sound, and Tanzer, bowing at its familiar ring.

The knowledge from Gladiator Island manifested its response, but that only seemed to further fuel Beatrice’s ire.

Yet, before Subaru could step in to mediate—

“You bastard, prepare yourself――!”

“Huh?”

From the clouds of dust raised by the crumbling wall, a lone imperial soldier, sneaking closer, yelled, raising his sword aimed directly at Subaru atop his horse.

It seems hard to believe, but for the opposing enemy soldiers, it was clear that leading this unit was Subaru. They realized he couldn’t be disregarded, and according to the customs of the Empire, they’d not underestimate a child.

Thus, the soldier’s sword homed unerringly towards Subaru—

“Uwah!”

In that moment, the force embracing Subaru from behind tightened, and in an instant, his view shifted.

The occurrence was simple and straightforward; it had transported from where the tempest horse had stood just a moment ago—no, it had shifted instantly.

“What the…? Ugh!”

Dizzy from the sudden transfer, Idra, gripping the reins, felt her insides churn resulting in a gag. Subaru also felt familiar with that sensation—it was the ability exhibiting through Lui on his back.

And then—

“Shamak!”

“What!? U-ugh!?”

Beatrice hastily recited an incantation, casting clouds over the imperial soldiers, while Tanzer followed up with an extravagant kick, taking out the legs of the halted soldier and sending him crashing to the ground, knocking them unconscious.

That fleeting moment of cooperation flowed between the two as they exchanged glances, between horse and ground.

“Well done.”

“You weren’t too bad yourself.”

Just like that, the previously tense atmosphere flipped into a mutual acceptance.

“Well, it’s good for young girls to warm up to each other. …Oi! Lui! Stop charging suddenly; you just flipped Idra inside out! Though I’m grateful!”

“Ah~!”

“Hm, that’s a fine reply! Idra, just breathe deeply! This is probably the first and last time!”

“I’ll… try my best…”

With Lui’s ability, they could avoid some unforeseen circumstances.

If necessary, even if Idra was about to retch, he would nonchalantly have her use it.

“After all, I shouldn’t have been able to endure twice or thrice in a row——Gustav! Hiaine! Vaits!”

At Subaru’s call, the faces before the crumbled wall turned around. Each one of them met Subaru’s eyes firmly.

“I’m leaving it to you!”

“I can fulfill my duties only. You do the same.”

“Got it! Pleiades Battalion, we’re making a flamboyant return!”

“Schwarz, hold this position… Take the throne back!”

As Gustav and the others ventured to other battlefields, while Vaits remained to hold the broken castle wall, Subaru gently thumped Idra’s chest from behind.

Seated on the wind horse cradled in Subaru’s arms, Idra laughed,

“Now, we’re heading inside. It seems like we’ll be the first to arrive.”

With a brave grin, she surged ahead, trampling over the debris of the wall into the city.

Alongside her, Subaru likewise charged into the imperial capital Rupugana.

The streets of the city, concealed behind the towering walls, had been wholly hidden from outside view, but they were orderly and meticulously arranged.

“Unless the representative of the town is especially neurotic, it wouldn’t have turned out this way.”

If that person had heard, they might have argued they couldn’t possibly take responsibility for the construction of a city built hundreds of years ago, but that was impossible to claim.

Thus, expressing a one-sided opinion, the Pleiades Battalion catapulted into the imperial capital.

Their target was—

“Subaru! What shall we do?”

“Schwarz-sama, what are your plans?”

“Uwah! Ah, um, ugh!”

“Of course, it’s clear! Aim for the Crystal Palace of the imperial capital! We’ll greet the emperor sitting back at the top with a ‘hello!'”

As the girls in unison fired questions at him, Subaru supplied an answer that encompassed all of them.

Both Beatrice and Tanzer nodded at his reply, and even Lui chimed in, while Idra, witness to it all, murmured quietly.

“Bringing four children into the battlefield… it seems I lack the talent of a warrior.”

So that was the certainly sincere thought from a child of a miller.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　△▼△▼△▼△

Thus, at the very moment the Pleiades Battalion led by Natsuki Subaru broke through the wall, they also made their triumphant first entrance into the imperial capital Rupugana.

“Never did I think they would press on this far.”

The group of rebels surrounding the capital, scheming to overturn the very foundation of the Empire— all of them had burnt their lives to reach the Crystal Palace they had set as their goal.

In the highest, most authoritative chamber of the palace, an elaborate throne room. On the wall behind it, there was a national flag bearing a wolf pierced by a sword; within this room, saturated in red like blood, the entirety of this Empire’s authority gathered around the throne, occupied by the Emperor.

Young and perceptive, the Emperor exuded a beauty as sharp and cold as a finely honed blade, remaining unfazed despite the swarm that crowded to aim swords at his throat, never changing his expression.

As he had spoken with words of anticipation, the situation had surpassed his expectations.

Nonetheless—

“Which layer of the numerous webs you’ve spun does that pertain to?”

“—”

That remark was far too insolent to be directed at the Emperor seated in the throne.

However, there was neither the figure of a loyal subject poised to rebuke it, nor a soldier ready to behead a scoundrel; the audacious sound of intrusive footsteps echoed throughout the throne room.

In that throne room devoid of its expected presence, one more incomprehensible fact appeared.

Had anyone else been present, they would’ve furrowed their brow at the sight. —No, perhaps, they might not have even been able to frown at all.

Recognizing this fact required compelling grounds to step beyond obstructed perceptions.

Once, during ancient times, a gift was sent from an Emperor to a friendly tribe.

The mask modeled after the “Oni Clan,” created to eliminate the most terrifying entities in this world, compelled the onlookers to turn away from the reality hidden behind it in fear.

Thus, the voice belonging to the masked Oni was identical to that of the Emperor’s, making it easy to fail to recognize.

And then, an existence with the same voice and daringly walking through the throne room as if it were their own was revealed before the Volakia Emperor.

That was—

“Surprisingly, it doesn’t evoke any significant emotions. —Gazing up at a throne once pursued from the ground, now returned here.”

Calm and poised, this marked the triumphant return of the rightful Emperor, who had once had to distance himself from the throne.