I remembered a frustrating story.

If I recall correctly, it was Petra who mentioned it.

“My lord has a really bad temperament, a foul mouth, he harasses people, acts cheerful even when being scolded, and has some creepy moments, but he’s really good at teaching.”

With her attitude fully acknowledging this, Petra’s character wouldn’t allow her to demean someone just because she disliked them.

Though a close age, I couldn’t quite call Garfiel a friend. Garfiel liked Petra’s noble traits. It was no wonder Frederica was so smitten.

In terms of being someone who was likely to suffer, Garfiel and Subaru or Otto had a similar lineage. After all, siblings couldn’t deny their blood.

Therefore, Garfiel also had to admit it.

Roswaal L. Meiastars is a rival in love, a vile rascal planning the worst deeds, and a nemesis he had never liked from the past.

Yet, Roswaal’s teachings were precise and sustained his very existence.

“Garfiel, shuriken. It’s poisoned. Even if you dodge, it will explode. What’s the correct answer?”

“Stop being so annoying, you punk!!”

Garfiel bellowed as he grounded his feet, and in the next moment, the rising earth became a shield protecting the two. A light sound of shuriken striking the earthen wall was followed by an explosive bang that scorched the air.

As Roswaal predicted, if they had just deflected it with their gauntlet, they would have avoided damage.

Grinding his sharp teeth at that fact—

“Which is it?!”

“It’s me!”

The immediate response to the question made Garfiel turn around to Roswaal.

In that instant, Roswaal waved the kunai he held in both hands, batting it away. Noticing a shadow flashing above him, Garfiel threw a punch without holding back.

The booming sound echoed as Garfiel’s punch was deflected by Roswaal’s swift kick.

The attack that Garfiel had made was interrupted mid-way by Orbalto. The old man grumbled while competing with Garfiel’s punch and leg strength.

“Geez, this is getting really annoying. Isn’t it cheating to be two against one?”

“Don’t try to change the rules now, you tiny old man!”

“Hahaha! Well, it costs nothing to say, does it?”

He retreated from the impact of the punch only to bounce backward using it as leverage. For a moment, Garfiel attempted to pursue him—

“—”

The shuriken flying in from the side passed through the place where Garfiel had stopped.

Overlooking it, Garfiel let out a deep breath. Then, right beside him, Roswaal, gripping his weapon anew, changed his expression.

Seeing this, Garfiel twisted his lips.

“What’s so amusing, you punk?”

“No, no, I’m simply impressed by how quickly you’ve grown. You predicted the sudden ambush just without anything being said. You’re learning in battle.”

“You’re just getting sneakier, aren’t ya? I’ll tell you this, I don’t plan on becoming scummy like you or that old man!”

“You need talent to be scummy. In my assessment, you lack the qualities for that. You’re about even with Emily.”

“That’s absolutely impossible! Don’t lump me together!”

Garfiel instinctively bit back at Roswaal’s words but immediately reflected that it might hurt him if Emilia heard that.

Anyway, thinking of Emilia, who should be rampaging on the battlefield like Garfiel, and the safety of Ram, with Shudrak’s women and Heinkel, Garfiel took a deep breath.

“You’re quite relaxed, aren’t you? Your comrades are in quite a mess, seemin’ that we have a thick lineup on our side?”

“—”

Garfiel trying to brace himself was interrupted by Orbalto’s words.

It was unwelcome to feel a sensation of being read like this, a suspicion that the opponent was reading his strategies would not be a good situation in battle.

However, beside a nervous Garfiel, Roswaal shrugged.

“Getting heated is playing into the opponent’s hands. Although in your case, it can also clear your confusion, mixing impurities into your fervor is unhealthy. Moreover—”

“What’s that?”

“You’re normally quite talkative, but increasing statements to mislead us, isn’t that suspicious? It seems that the old man is getting quite agitated too.”

“—You’re a nasty young one, aren’t ya?”

As he spoke, Orbalto’s long brows covered his scrutinizing eyes with an annoyingly hateful light.

Upon hearing Roswaal’s remark, Garfiel came to the realization of an obvious fact—just as he was irritated by the protracted battle, their opponent was likely irritated as well.

Orbalto was laughing, taunting, and mocking not because he was feeling confident, but rather to make it seem that he was at ease and maintain a psychological advantage.

On the other hand, Garfiel’s feelings were written clearly across his face, voice, and behavior.

Thus in a psychological battle, he was quickly taken advantage of.

“That said, you can survive when your strength exceeds that of your opponent and when your opponent steps into your territory. But…”

“I know! If stronger guys only battle me on their own terms, then no matter how hard I try, I won’t see a chance at victory. But—”

Garfiel, fighting here now in the Volakia Empire, came to this place as a bad stroke of fortune due to a convergence of many coincidental factors.

Regardless of how the dice rolled, the denial of the reality before him could not be ignored.

And in the future, as long as Emilia and Subaru were around, battlefields resembling the one in this Empire would continually descend upon him.

In other words—

“—No whining allowed!”

“Ah, that’s right. That’ll do. It’s the end of your childhood.”

With Roswaal’s convoluted emphasis, Garfiel wrinkled his nose.

He was not pleased at being told of his growth or being recognized; he simply liked the phrase of ‘the end of childhood.’

For Garfiel to walk forward as a different entity from here.

“—Geez, I dislike younger folks for this reason. Unlike us old geezers with no potential, they immediately open their eyes to something!”

As he wrinkled his neck, the old man Orbalto sighed while shaking the ankle of his raised foot.

Nevertheless, beneath the lighthearted mockery of the “Malicious Old Man,” there was a clear animosity visible. —Yes, animosity. Up until this point, Orbalto considered Garfiel as an inferior and aimed to eliminate him.

Garfiel, finally recognized as an enemy.

“Finally…”

With conviction, Garfiel felt worthy to clash with Orbalto.

Taking a large deep breath, he inhaled through his nose once more and exhaled from his mouth. As such, he consciously focused the unseen strength circulating within him—

“Huh?”

Suddenly, a silly voice rang out, disturbing Garfiel’s concentration.

Looking back, it was Orbalto standing directly in front, and for a moment, it seemed like a strategy by a Shinobi to disrupt his composure. However, it was quite the opposite.

Because it was Orbalto who had created an opening.

“—”

The leader of the Shinobi. The opening, though small as a needle’s eye, was something Garfiel had never seen before, and even Garfiel found himself holding his breath.

What exactly was occurring here—

“—Wait, wait, wait! It’s unfair to withdraw midway; it’s such a waste, and you’re not reading the mood at all! If anyone isn’t reading the mood, that’s really something!?”

A boisterous voice echoed while a shadow dashed through the battlefield, kicking up dust.

From a considerable distance, a small-statured boy was loudly shouting, creating an incongruous impression amidst the battlefield—a blue-haired boy with an astonishing speed.

As the shouting boy looked up at the sky, he chased after a tremendous creature with wings unfurled.

Garfiel instantly recognized it to be a dragon that had just descended onto another battlefield far away. The sight of a boy playfully chasing after a dragon was beyond comprehension.

Though it was a battlefield where anything could happen, such thoughts crossed his mind—

“…Why the hell is that guy, Sesi, so tiny?”

Squinting at the bizarre sight, Garfiel’s ears caught a whispering voice.

The one-legged Orbalto, still forming a small gap, was fixated on the boy and the dragon—no, the shouting boy.

And then—

“Hey, has Chisha taken my color away?”

The murky-eyed Orbalto’s gaze flickered with astonishment and doubt, which soon morphed into realization and then anger.

In a mere span of ten seconds, such emotional variations coursed through Orbalto without any indication of the reasoning behind it.

But if this was truly one of the precious openings ‘Malicious Old Man’ had formed only a few times in his life, scummy Roswaal wouldn’t overlook it.

“—To overlook someone staring off into space in front of him shows poor judgment of the situation.”

Stepping into the created needle’s eye, Roswaal twisted the tip of the kunai he gripped.

As he reacted quickly, a blow grazed across Orbalto’s left shoulder, creating chaos in his reaction. The forceful metal slammed into the old man’s shoulder, and he staggered to the ground.

This was a technique Roswaal had displayed several times throughout this battle, swimming through the soil.

However—

“Garfiel!”

“I got it!”

Although Roswaal’s advice was annoying, the strategy was already visible.

Garfiel’s ‘Divine Spirit’s Protection’ was a blessing that drew mana from the grounded surface beneath his feet, in simpler terms; it connected him to the earth.

Even if the opponent dived underground, focusing would let him trace their whereabouts—

“—Huh?”

Suddenly, all the fine hairs on Garfiel’s body stood on end, caught by a peculiar sensation.

It felt like a horrifying sensation that rasped against his neck, more tremendous and expansive than Orbalto, looming nearby.

“Garfiel?”

Questioning Garfiel’s halted movement, Roswaal tossed a query.

This wasn’t a response to Orbalto; Garfiel also allowed an opening. Given that old man would definitely capitalize on the gap he provided.

However, there was no attack. On the contrary—

“The old man’s presence… has vanished?”

Furrowing his shaped eyebrows, Roswaal murmured, not lowering his kunai stance.

Just as he stated, the presence that should have belonged to Orbalto vanished. Of course, the opponent was a Shinobi, adept at concealing their presence.

But it was something different. The presence of Orbalto, who had gone underground, was receding.

Swiftly moving further away from Garfiel and the others, and then—

“What’s this sensation…”

“Garfiel, the old man—”

“A strange, disgusting feeling that corrupts like ‘the wind of Eichia rots the water’…”

While Roswaal cautiously guarded against Orbalto, the anxiety Garfiel felt wasn’t shared.

If Roswaal couldn’t feel it, then the source of the abnormality was likely not mana. It was something approaching from beneath Garfiel’s feet, something big and huge.

—Garfiel, blessed with the ‘Divine Spirit’s Protection,’ felt the sensation the fastest.

“The soil of the battlefield… No, the soil of Volakia is going berserk?”

A dreadful, overwhelmingly vast scream of the earth reverberated in Garfiel’s ears.

The anger over having the battle disrupted and having missed the chance to breach the wall faded into mist before the weight standing in opposition.

“Roswaal! Fly right now and inform everyone!”

“—”

Forgetting the alias he used in the Empire, Garfiel called out, but Roswaal did not interject, valuing the urgency.

While being considered by his most disliked counterpart, Garfiel screamed with urgency.

That was—

“—All of Volakia is turning against us!”

△▼△▼△▼△

—Lamia Godwin was one of the daughters of the seventy-sixth Emperor of the Volakia Empire, “Draizen Volakia,” and the deceased princess who lost to Vincent Abelkus and Priska Benedict in the “Selection of the Emperors.”

During the “Selection of the Emperors,” where siblings were forced to kill each other until only one was left, she formed alliances with other siblings to defeat Vincent, viewed as the Emperor’s strongest contender, utilizing deception and entrapments against her rivals.

However, despite this plan, her alliance collapsed and she ultimately ended up facing off against her sister Priska, whom she had mutual disdain for, resulting in her own demise.

Considering her age and capabilities, it was rumored among those involved in the “Selection of the Emperors” that she would have seated upon the throne had it not been for Vincent.

Regardless, defeat is defeat. In the face of the unalterable reality, Lamia’s body was burned to ash by the flames of the “Sun Sword.” That, too, should have been an unalterable reality.

Then—

“Why, Lady Lamia, why…”

The usually narrowed eyes of Belstet opened wide enough to confirm that their eye color was grey, revealing sheer shock as he looked at the one before him.

In his field of vision, wearing the flag of the country swaying in the wind while seated on the throne was none other than the vivid memory of his former master, Lamia Godwin.

The bloodless white face cracked, transforming her once-beautiful crimson eyes into eerie voids illuminated by golden light looming in dark shadows.

“Belstet, are you unable to hear my question? The one who won the ‘Selection of the Emperors’ was brother Vincent? Priska? You wouldn’t dare say it was brother Paradio, would you? After I fell, it would be a nightmare for anyone other than those two to compete!”

“—After your fall, the one who took the throne was Lord Vincent Abelkus. He has governed for nine years until the present day.”

“But he has died. Is that the answer lying at your feet?”

Cutting off Belstet’s words, Lamia, leaning on her palm, gazed at the fallen corpse. Even if she couldn’t see his face from her position, she could distinguish the blood-related siblings.

Strictly speaking, the one on the ground was not the real Vincent but Chisha Gold disguised as him, as per Belstet’s assessment, but in either case…

“Forgive my intrusion, Lady Lamia, but I would like to inquire—”

“What is it, Belstet? You used to be my loyal confidant. If you have something you want to know, I will answer you.”

“Why have you returned? Furthermore, that throne is not permitted for anyone other than the Emperor of Volakia— you lack the qualifications, my lady.”

Disregarding the impropriety and knowing it might provoke her displeasure, Belstet spoke.

There were days in the past when he poured his heart and soul into supporting her, believing her to be the rightful one to ascend to the throne of the Volakia Empire. Seeing Lamia sitting there after all those years brought forth an intense surge of emotions.

—An unbearable disgust and anger boiled within him.

“A wise judgment, my lady. We have faced defeat.”

Pressing a hand to his chest, Belstet gave counsel to Lamia, just as he had done in the past.

Lamia, still young and beautiful, had a keen mind. She would listen earnestly to Belstet’s proposals as they debated, considering them thoroughly to arrive at correct conclusions with grace.

However, Lamia’s traitorous, poisonous flower-like virtue—

“It’s pointless, Belstet. No matter how much I love and dedicate myself, this country will never reply to you.”

Tilting her head, that unchanged, frozen expression, Lamia responded. In response, Belstet immediately moved.

Extending the hand that rested on his chest toward Lamia, the ring that fitted on his finger gleamed strangely.

It was the “Meteor,” granted to Belstet as the proof of the Chancellor.

“Prepare yourself—!”

In response to Belstet’s intent, a fireball burst forth from the gem glowing brightly on the ring.

This release of mana as magic was a possession belonging to Vincent as a defensive measure, but it now surged toward the one whom he had once pledged loyalty to—no, to the one resembling her.

Without defense, the Lamia seated upon the throne was engulfed by the fireball—

“You fool. There’s no fire for the imperial family of Volakia, no fire!”

In the next moment, a dazzling red light illuminated the throne room as the fireball was cleaved diagonally. That very momentum made it veer around Lamia and crash against the wall behind the throne, igniting flames.

If left unattended, it could catch the flag aflame, threatening to engulf the Crystal Palace, but Belstet’s attention was on what lay before the anticipated future of the Crystal Palace, rather than that.

In front of the throne stood Lamia, now clutching a fiery red sword.

Undeniably, it was the pride of the Volakia Empire—

“—The ‘Sun Sword’ of Volakia.”

“As a member of the Volakia royal family, it is only natural for me to wield it, right?”

Belstet’s eyes widened in disbelief as he witnessed Lamia with the brilliantly glowing sword, leaping toward him.

With a swing, Lamia’s slash bore down on him. If that dazzling crimson was truly not a mere imitation, Belstet would be burned to ashes without a trace left behind.

If he didn’t move. However, he couldn’t move.

He hadn’t undergone such training, and moreover, he was wholly captivated by the brilliance.

The dazzling light of the sword that represented the Volakia Empire—

“Well then, Belstet—”

In an instant, a flash descended upon Belstet, and understanding that the life of the loyal minister who had shaken the very foundations of the Empire was about to end was a moment that struck him.

“Nuuuuuuh!!”

The large doors of the throne room were burst open from the outside, and something entered with tremendous force from beyond. It collided head-on with Lamia, who had been slashing toward Belstet, and with a ‘puu’ sound, it sent the princess’s slender body flying.

“Wha…”

Staring at the sense of death that receded before him, the shocked Belstet realized it was the thrown battle axe that had collided with Lamia. It was one of the weapons equipped by the armor placements in the corridor before the throne room, a magnificent piece adorned for ceremonial use.

Regardless, it was the Empire’s way not to display weapons that couldn’t be practically used, and so the axe had been maintained to be ready for immediate combat.

That weapon intercepted Lamia, sending her violently crashing back into the throne room’s depths.

“Who—”

Belstet pondered who had hurled the axe. Before he could turn around to confirm the opponent, powerful footsteps rapidly closed in.

“Traitor, Belstet Fondalfon! I was against keeping someone like you as Chancellor from the start!!”

Garbed in an exposed upper body was a muscular giant, staring straight at Belstet while clutching him by his collar and lifting him off the ground. He was a towering figure, echoing his massive voice that matched his stature, a man who bore a fierce expression.

Undoubtedly, it was Goz Ralfon.

“You will face judgment in public, no less! Of course, Chisha, who orchestrated treason, will be equally guilty! Regardless of his intentions, plotting against your excellency and allies is a grave sin!”

“—”

“Furthermore! Never underestimate us! No matter what hardships come our way, we shall smash the ‘Great Calamity’ together!!”

The massive giant Goz Ralfon proclaimed loudly.

A member of the Empire’s “Nine Divine Generals,” he was one of the ‘Five’ in rank, a soldier who was heavily affected by the schemes of Belstet and Chisha due to his high loyalty and clumsiness.

However, since his interference assisted Vincent’s escape from the Imperial City, Belstet didn’t have the luxury to spare for him.

With their mutual goals, each would expend their strength. One would win, and one would lose—that was the way of the world, the way of the Empire. For this reason, there was no sentiment of apology for that.

“Wha—why are you here…? You were supposed to be imprisoned under my mansion.”

“I was saved by a brave girl! A person who wields a strong heart… it was coincidental that I was caught up with you in that mansion! She is certainly something the Volakia Empire can boast of!”

“…I see, so it was her.”

The image of the blue-haired girl he had captured floated in Belstet’s mind.

A practitioner of valuable healing magic, according to Madeline, she was the daughter of an Oni tribe—a potential candidate for the empress in terms of both ability and race.

Strong-willed and full of vitality, it seemed Belstet had underestimated her.

With the collapse of the plan becoming visible, he had no intention to dwell on it excessively.

However, what weighed on Belstet’s mind behind the truth of Goz’s appearance was—

“Goz, have you already heard about the ‘Great Calamity’?”

“I haven’t heard the details! But, I’ve been told that it will occur at the cost of your excellency’s life! I still need to talk to Chisha about it all… but what I must prioritize is your excellency’s safety! Where have you taken her…?”

While responding overly loudly, Goz revealed his direction toward Belstet.

Internally, Belstet was impressed that even the ‘Great Calamity’ had reached Goz’s ears, and he felt both admiration and indignation about Chisha completely keeping it hidden from him until now.

Before Goz could say more, he noticed something and opened his eyes wide.

And—

“Nnn… Lady… My Lady!!”

With a scream, Goz crumbled to the ground, kneeling. The force of his impact threw Belstet to the ground as well, yet Goz paid no heed as he clung to the body before him.

Belstet’s gaze turned to the figure sprawled upon the crimson carpet, a corpse that would never move again.

Tears spilled from Goz’s wide-open eyes and were absorbed by his thick beard. With his tears weighing his beard down, Goz pressed his enormous fist tightly against the carpet.

“My Lady…! I, Goz Ralfon… am far too late…! What a foolish act! What a foolish deed! Such foolishness can only be atoned for… with death!”

“G-Goz! Calm down! That person is…”

“How can I calm down!? You, Belstet! Is this what you’re satisfied with!? You took my lady’s life and the very essence of this empire—”

“The one who has passed away is Chisha!!”

As Goz exploded with fury at the dead Emperor, Belstet raised his voice, which he rarely did.

When Goz opened his eyes wide at Belstet’s outburst, he then confirmed the fallen body once more.

“This is… Chisha…!? Nonsense! If so, what happened!?”

“I don’t understand the details either. However, I have only heard of the so-called Chisha having died in your excellency’s form and the unprecedented situation… We’ll have to clarify what happened with Chisha… but more importantly, what’s become of your excellency…”

Calming the emotionally tumultuous Goz, Belstet arranged his own thoughts.

That likely, this death of the Emperor and the revolt orchestrated by Belstet was all a part of Chisha Gold’s plot.

And that was not unrelated to the events caused by the ‘Great Calamity’ much discussed.

If anyone knew the details about that ‘Great Calamity’—

“—That’s quite cruel suddenly. This treatment is one I’ve never encountered since birth and even after death!”

“—”

From the back of the room, a smooth voice was thrown in.

The Lamia, which had flown through the air, was no longer stunned as she was expected to be but rather stood and looked at the group that had invaded the room.

At first, one would think that Lamia had completely vanished after being crushed, but that certainly wasn’t the case.

What began as unexpected movement was now the effect of the explosion that led everyone to realize that they had pursued the wrong path in underestimating her.

“Lamia Godwin! How is it possible you’re still functioning!?”

“—After the ‘Selection of the Emperors,’ I am indeed the Lady Lamia Godwin. I have returned from what was thought to be my death.”

“Why would the princess who was supposed to have perished in the ‘Selection of the Emperors’ be here, acting thus!? Is there a chance the Emperor kept the Lady alive!?”

“That cannot be true. The Emperor Vincent Volakia is a man untainted by such feelings. That bizarre visage is a matter for Lady Lamia alone.”

Correcting Goz’s knee-jerk answer, Belstet gazed at Lamia, who was still restoring her physical form.

If possible, he wished to prolong their conversation to gather information.

“The negotiation point was closed by none other than myself…”

“Yes, indeed. I thought I was communicating with you quite well, but what happened?”

“Well then, perhaps at the end of my life, I encountered betrayal from my comrades and despaired. Also, this is a surprising side of myself, I must admit,”

“I’m not saying this in jest, Lady Lamia. I, Goz Ralfon, serving as a general under the governance of Emperor Vincent Volakia, demand you submit peacefully!”

Having taken the initiative and making a first strike, he knew she would not lend an ear.

So, as Lamia positively affirmed, Goz took another large step forward. Even without the battle axe in hand, his thick arms were like tree trunks.

Whether due to the power of the ‘Sun Sword’ or the accompanying enhancement of strength, Lamia could not stop Goz should he desire.

She, above all others, should be aware of the gap in their strength—

“No way, that’s not happening! To awaken and bind me again is unthinkable!”

“Then, I’ll have to do so by force…”

“—Also, you see?”

Should he not listen, at that moment Goz began to draw even nearer.

Lamia’s mysteriously glowing golden eyes flickered, and then the situation began to shift.

—Shadows, dark and golden, rose around her, mirroring Lamia.

“What the—!?”

Startled, Goz shouted, while Belstet was left speechless in shock.

From the ground, they appeared like shadows rising, figures with the same eyes and skin like Lamia, cracking in a monstrous resemblance.

That alone was astonishing, but the shock for Belstet and Goz didn’t end there.

They recognized every single one of these beings that had risen.

“—You sad creatures clinging to the decaying Empire, how pitiful you all are.”

Raising the ‘Sun Sword,’ Lamia declared, as more than twenty figures standing similarly stretched out their hands toward the sky, each wielding a beautifully shining sword that marked them as royal family worthy of not being burned.

△▼△▼△▼△

—The battle between Moguro Hagane of the “Eighth” and the new and old “Nine” generals, Madeline Eshault and Balroi Temegurif, remained fierce beside the Crystal Palace.

The exceptional battle unfolding nearby encapsulated a clash between gigantic humanoid ramparts and a dragon wrapped in clouds, joined by the strongest dragon rider of the Empire.

The resounding thunder and ground tremors screamed the anguish of the Volakia Empire, while the water pouring from the broken reservoir flowed chaotically toward the Imperial City.

Indeed, Imperial Capital Rupugana — no, the Holy Volakia Empire was being thrust into an unprecedented, chaotic situation foretelling its demise.

Yet, amidst such circumstances—

“Is it you, Lady Lamia, or is it Lady Lamia? Regardless, the ‘Great Calamity’ is approaching. Let’s stand against the ‘Great Calamity’ together!”

With arms wide open, a wide grin stretched across the face of the “Star Reader,” completely oblivious to the crumbling Imperial city in front of him, the scene resembling nothing short of a nightmare as he casually trampled upon the understanding of ordinary folks.

But alas, how tragic. Facing that abnormal grin of the “Star Reader” was a person in this Empire who was not allowed to be ordinary.

“—”

For a fleeting moment, Abel glanced at the miracle that saved him from this high place.

What had saved Abel from his fall was the tightly stretched cloth underneath, assembled hastily from the various rooms of the Crystal Palace and surrounding buildings.

It made sense why that preparation could be made. Someone had—no, Abel had to fall for this level of preparation to be possible.

“You, how much do you know!?”

The moment he reached that conclusion, Abel’s outstretched hand gripped the collar of the smirking Ubiruku. He yanked him forcibly closer, causing Ubiruku to stutter in surprise.

Face to face, Abel glared sternly at Ubiruku.

“Chisha’s scheme… No, it’s not that. To whose death does the arrival of this ‘Great Calamity’ lead to, how far did you know? You intended my death and—”

“Yes, I said, you see. —The death of Vincent Volakia will be the beginning of the ‘Great Calamity’ that will bring destruction to the Empire.”

When glared at from such a close distance, Ubiruku’s relaxed demeanor remained unchanged. In fact, this was likely not even confidence; it was something much more sinister—expectation or excitement.

In truth, Ubiruku was invigorated. it seemed like this was finally the long-awaited opportunity.

But—

“Vincent Volakia is me.”

“No, no! Your excellency! That’s wrong. Let me shout it loudly; that’s simply incorrect!”

“—”

“Chisha Gold, indeed, has truly embodied Vincent Volakia. That’s because you yourself made Chisha able to do so.”

“I…”

It hadn’t been for that purpose that Abel continued to keep Chisha Gold nearby.

He needed someone with the ability to manage the entire Empire to protect it from the impending ‘Great Calamity’ when it would come while the powerless Emperor would be unable to be present.

Collaborating with a suitably worthy being who would inherit the throne after his passing to shield the empire from ruin.

“Why did you join this plot?”

“Huh?”

“As a ‘Star Reader,’ you likely care about fulfilling heavenly mandates and their execution more than anything else. Therefore, if you wanted to ensure that the ‘Great Calamity’ transpired, you should have utilized my life instead. Why then, did you plan to rely on the uncertain schemes of Chisha? It does not make sense.”

The “Star Reader” is a puppet of fate masquerading as a human.

Regardless of how well they disguised themselves as a friendly figure or their sincere demeanor, what lay within was merely an obsession with fate and a frenzied desire to fulfill it.

Their priorities should be clear. Why then, did he choose to side with Chisha’s plot?

“Why, answer me.”

“Hmm, I feel like if I say this, your excellency will likely get angry.”

“Speak it.”

“Well, it didn’t matter whether it was your excellency or Chisha. As long as they wake up, it’s fine; if they don’t, it’s bad. Should Chisha die in your form without triggering the ‘Great Calamity,’ then—”

“—So this situation turns out to be as you expected?”

With a mischievous grin, Ubiruku waggled his tongue at Abel, who quietly realized it would yield no further insight to converse with him.

Letting go of the collar he had been gripping, Abel gradually turned around. Reflected in view through the demon mask was a number of figures each holding onto the ends of the fabric that had saved him from falling.

They were a collection of unfamiliar faces, ones never seen before within the Crystal Palace—

“Are these people all your associates?”

“They’re hardly many enough to be called an associate group.”

Ubiruku shrugged and cleared a path forward, spreading his arms wide. Among the gathered, perhaps about ten men and women had come together, all of them likely “Star Readers” like him.

Even when culled, they regrouped. The designation of the observers was unpredictable, with many that had been left unacknowledged until now.

“As I mentioned, we act in accordance with fate. What about your excellency? What will you do?”

“I—”

Pondering what should be done, Abel tried to articulate his thoughts when suddenly, a thunderous shock rocked the ground, causing a piece of Moguro to crash down nearby.

Even in the midst of the fierce battle, the disadvantage of being two against one was beginning to show for Moguro.

The resurrection of Balroi Temegurif, presumed dead, along with his beloved dragon—

The worst potential that could be drawn from that was, it wouldn’t remain limited to just them.

“The turmoil of the Imperial City and the crisis of the Empire, realities upending—the occurrences that signify the ‘Great Calamity’ are all appearing now.”

Beside Abel, who shielded his face from the flying dust, Ubiruku pointed his chin upward toward the battle aflame.

As the dead rose, and dragons rampaged, the premonition of devastation remembered was about to be extended beyond.

“The ‘Witch’ of the Kingdom, the ‘Night Wails’ of the City State, the ‘Collapse’ of the Holy Kingdom. And now, the ‘Great Calamity’ of the Empire… The four disasters that shall bring the world to ruin are looming—at this very moment.”

“—”

“And one more thing, your excellency, I have a personal opinion to share.”

Speaking his untold words with a playful expression, Ubiruku dramatically clapped his hands. The “Star Reader” directed him full-faced toward the palace, specifically the grand area housing the throne affected by the recent battles.

“About why I assisted in Chisha’s plot, that’s where it came from. I was fine either way. The question of whether you or Chisha awakens holds little consequence… but I deemed your excellency to be the likely possibility.”

“You shameless being,”

he thought.

In the same instant, however, his attention was attracted by a series of shadows, escalating from uncertainty into chaos.

“You seek to challenge me, Lambart Sefir. T-who, may I ask, may emerge victorious among you and me?”

“…”

The one who challenged him now was nobody other than Abel himself.

If indeed the same “Star Reader” had awaited Abel while orchestrating the shroud of shadows, and this tired being wished to brush it aside in profit; perhaps it signified that what transfixed Abel contained more than the plot among the cataclysmic disasters.

Thus one thing was clear—they understood the nature of the entire plot unfolding before their eyes, even if the details eluded them.

“—I am deeply grateful for this chance you have afforded me; believe me, I shall seize it most assuredly.”

In truth, if Abel had not been aware of even half of what lay beneath the surface, that fate itself remained beyond comprehension.

Most importantly, he must acknowledge in this crucial moment—our last act of rebellion yielded the understanding yet unknown to them.

“—I appreciate your hospitality, but it simply cannot be facilitated.”

“—”

In the past, to Vincent Abelkus’s inquiry, Chisha Gold answered thus.

When asked if he could die for Vincent, he directly replied that he could not do so.

Thus, any sacrifice made by Chisha was never for Vincent Abelkus.

Certainly not for Abel, nor for Vincent Volakia. It did not exist as mere verbal jousting; rather, Chisha’s sacrifice was for—

“—Listen! The ‘Great Calamity’ is coming! Henceforth, obey my commands!”

With jaws clenched tight, Abel raised his head, leaping onto the rubble to turn around. He swept his gaze across the assembled group standing there and addressed them all.

His declaration elicited those who had been acting selfishly to cast their gazes upon him.

In that instant, a flicker of doubt passed through the eyes of the gathered Nine Divine Generals aside from Ubiruku and Belstet—asking themselves just who was this man.

In response, Abel reached for his demon mask, gripping his cheek. He tore off the final veil that Chisha had draped over him, revealing his true visage.

And then—

“I am your Emperor, Vincent Volakia. —The Sword Wolf of the Empire, the most noble among them!”