――Grooby Gamuret has no interest in the “Star Reader.”

　It’s not a feeling of rejection brought about by disgust or hostility, but a genuine indifference.

　In the first place, if one lives a normal life, encounters with those who spew nonsense like “Star Reader” are rare. Given his position as a general, Grooby would occasionally run into Ubiruku, who was granted access to the castle, but he seldom engaged in conversation unless it was with someone he needed to speak with.

　In fact, the only memory Grooby has of talking to him was when he silenced him during a meeting.

　Thus, it was baffling to Grooby that Emperor Vincent and his trusted aide Chisha were unusually attentive to the movements of the “Star Reader.” It’s unknown what the Chancellor Belstets thought about the “Star Reader,” but as far as Grooby could sense, his loyalty to the Empire was genuine, and the complex anger he held toward Vincent did not influence his judgment.

　Therefore, as the leaders of the Empire were each deciding on their own stances, Grooby, who had no reason to involve himself, found no reason to take an interest in the “Star Reader.”

　If he were to find out that this confrontation with the “Great Calamity” threatening the Empire was known to the “Star Reader” beforehand, a torrent of his usual curses would surely pour forth from his mouth.

　However, at least in this moment, the familiar curses from Grooby were not a result of his anger toward some “Star Reader.”

“――Damn it!”

　The gray thorn that had appeared above his left chest pierced through to his soul the moment his fingers slipped while trying to yank it away, delivering a sharp pain that bristled Grooby’s beast-like fur.

　The sensation of having something sharp thrust into a vital spot directly tied to his life was a pain that twisted the expression of even a seasoned warrior.

　Annoyingly, the thorn had no real form. It couldn’t be shaken off.

　Grinding his teeth against the pain inflicted on him, Grooby turned to see the man in the iron helmet he was clinging to for support.

　Naturally, he too was ensnared by the same curse as Grooby, writhing in pain—

“Damn it, move back! The situation is getting worse!”

“Back off, I—ugh!”

　With a powerful blow to the gut, Grooby forced the sluggish Al to step back.

　As Al groaned and fell backwards onto the street, Grooby quickly grabbed him and pulled him into the shadow of a nearby building.

　It was a non-targeted area attack. Hiding out here in the street only served as a temporary measure.

“Even so, I don’t want to draw attention while we’re yelling and have a bunch of undead swarm us.”

“…Aren’t you also feeling the damned thorns?”

“No? I am. It would be nice if they could throw in some flowers along with the vines for a truly beautiful gift.”

　Cecilis, who had joined Grooby and Al in the street, exclaimed as he patted his left chest.

　Like Grooby, the vines were visible on his chest, and he must have been feeling the same pain. Yet, despite their shared pain, he still had a silly grin plastered on his face—

“The behavior of a star performer is always the center of public attention. If I were to make a distorted expression born from the agony of losing a loved one or a dear friend, it would certainly evoke emotions. But if I merely contort my face because I’m in pain, it just diminishes the worth of a performer.”

“So, no matter how damn painful it is, or how much it hurts, I’m not gonna lose my face. That’s your stupid mindset, right?”

“Huh? Did I tell you this before?”

“Damn it, you did!”

　Cecilis tilted his head in confusion; Grooby didn’t want to hear any more of his philosophy.

　With many refusing to listen to Cecilis’s nonsense, Grooby would often find himself tangled up with him whenever he felt irked. His familiarity with Cecilis’s philosophy stems from this.

　Even so, it was surprisingly silly to realize that despite having forgotten having that talk, Grooby had been practically practicing that theory from way before his limbs had grown too long.

　While Grooby and Cecilis were bantering…

“Gah… What’s going on, the thorn madness finally calmed down?”

　In the alley they had dragged into, Al lifted himself up, looking down at the thorn in his chest.

　Instead, he rubbed his sore belly, shooting Grooby a resentful glare.

“My beaten belly hurts way more… What the hell is going on?”

“It’s your fault for not backing off! …As for the thorns, it’s probably distance.”

“Oh? So it’s about the distance between us and the caster of the thorns? If the pain disappeared as soon as we stepped back, that’s reasonable! We were stuck together so it’s easy to understand. First, there was Grooby in the front, then Al caught between, and finally me in the back; even with less than a second, there was a clear difference.”

“…But the thorns are still there.”

　Al muttered bitterly as he wiggled his fingers through the intangible vines.

　He was right; while the pain had faded, the crucial thorn remained. Even with the pain lessening, having a physical connection to the thorn was a cause for concern. In most cases, such lingering curses often have the ability to sense the target’s location.

　As long as these thorns exist, our whereabouts are highly likely to be transparent to the enemy.

“Well, that means that even if we hide, a swarm of enemies might be directed our way. I think it’s my belief that defeating too many enemies isn’t a good idea.”

“You mentioned that before. The reason?”

“As I said earlier, it’s just a gut feeling.”

“…Your damn gut feeling?”

　Grooby couldn’t help but chuckle derisively at Cecilis, who wasn’t hesitating to cite his intuition.

　It wasn’t an amusing situation. Still, there was a solid record behind those words, as both Cecilis and Arakia were among the generals with complete instincts, albeit for different reasons.

　Grooby also thought that the being responsible for causing such a large-scale disaster wouldn’t just rely on brute force alone.

　On the contrary, if they really were relying solely on brute strength, they wouldn’t stand a chance against Vincent and Chisha—.

“――”

　For a moment, Grooby glanced at Cecilis’s profile and fell silent.

　His thoughts raced through various possibilities, but if the enemy had opted for pure brute force, pitting themselves against the Empire with Cecilis and Arakia by their side would be a monumental blunder.

　An enemy who could make such a fundamental mistake would never stand a chance against the Volakia Empire.

　Of course, if Cecilis had shrunk down to that extent, it would indeed be highly impressive. However, Grooby’s instincts refused to buy it.

　Cecilis shrank because of Chisha, of that Grooby was absolutely certain, based on the lingering scent of mana.

　And Chisha would never side with those aiming to destroy the Empire. Nonetheless, it left Grooby unsettled that he couldn’t quite gauge Chisha’s intentions.

“If being exposed would mean our location is clear, we don’t have time to sit around pondering. What’s the plan? Do we charge in as a group and take down whoever is responsible for the curse?”

“Yes! That would be the fastest solution! But based on Grooby’s earlier observation, it seems the curse’s efficacy is linked to distance. So, now that we’ve distanced ourselves and the pain has subsided…”

“Then we’d only be inviting worse pain next time, huh.”

“Probably.”

　Al glared at his chest where the thorn was with a frustrated expression as he agreed with Cecilis’s hypothesis.

　Grooby was also on board with Cecilis’s line of reasoning. The fearsome nature of the enemy freely spreading the vine curse within a certain range lay there.

　The closer they got to the caster, the stronger the curse would tighten its grip. Most likely, before anyone could get close enough to the caster, they would be incapacitated from the pain.

“Then, no matter how stupid someone is, they wouldn’t be able to move.”

“By looking at me, do you think I’m the reckless fool likely to just charge in without a plan? But I won’t plunge in here unprepared. While it might be intriguing to settle things by cutting down the enemy while enduring the pain—”

　Taking a pause, Cecilis clasped his hands firmly before him, producing a sound. He then stared back and forth at Grooby and Al through the gap in his fingers.

“However, this isn’t just a matter of swiftly taking the enemy’s head. If it was something that simple, Grooby would have already sent me out to accomplish it.”

“…That’s how troublesome curses can be.”

　Grooby found it impossible to contain a sigh before the grinning Cecilis.

　With magic, in most cases, if the caster is killed, the effects cease. Magic is initiated by the caster utilizing mana to interact with the world, so if the caster is removed, it ends there.

　However, curses often specialize in dealing damage that can lead to the target’s death.

　Most are activated by tying into the target’s aura and, even if the caster dies, most powers remain effective as long as the target remains alive. This thorn was clearly one directly tied to the target’s aura, representing a prime example of that principle.

　The curse here could only be lifted by the caster or by using some trick.

“Get Murakami the Damned Sword. Get it now.”

　At Grooby’s directive, both Cecilis and Al stared at him blankly.

　While Al had no idea, Cecilis, who should have known but had forgotten, felt annoying. Grabbing Cecilis by the collar, Grooby bared his teeth.

“It’s the ‘Cursed Blade’ Murakami! To sever things like curses or contracts that have no tangible form, that damned sword is the quickest way to get it done! Go find it!”

“Eh?! But I don’t know where that sword is! How can I go looking for it if I have no idea where it is… Or can you sniff out its location, Grooby?”

“Pointless. That damn sword is designed so that I can’t track it by smell. Even if it was submerged in a pool of blood all year round, I wouldn’t be able to follow it by scent, damn it.”

　More than that, Murakami had developed a deep-rooted grudge against Grooby, who had melted it down from its sword state and reforged it, even denying Grooby from so much as picking it up.

　In terms of difficulty of handling, the “Cursed Blade” was still equivalent to its owner Cecilis, but its whereabouts were something Grooby had no means to sniff out.

“—But if I have that, I can do something about these thorns, right?”

　With a low voice, Al who had stood up confirmed it next to the exchanging Grooby and Cecilis.

　At Al’s serious tone, Grooby released Cecilis and nodded.

“Right. If it does exist, it’ll likely be in either the home of that damn idiot or a secret vault. But I don’t think that idiot can keep a secret.”

“Agreed. So where’s the home?”

“In the garden of the Crystal Palace. That damn idiot lives with Arakia.”

“Wait, wait! I can’t help but feel that the stupid idiot you keep mentioning is me, but who is this Arakia?!”

“Arakia… she’s the girl he’s with, and in the palace’s courtyard? What a small world we live in…”

“No, they probably aren’t together, at least not yet.”

　At Al’s perfectly good observation, Grooby wrinkled his nose in response.

　The relationship between Cecilis and Arakia was unclear even to Grooby, who observed from the sidelines. They’d apparently known each other for nearly a decade, but what Cecilis felt about other people was a mystery, and while it was certain Arakia despised him, they lived together and shared meals.

　If they were really an item, Grooby would know by the smell, but that was not the case at all. They sometimes seriously fought, changing the landscape of the Empire in the process, which made them an annoying pair.

“However, I doubt both the ‘Dream Sword’ and the ‘Cursed Blade’ are just gathering dust after that dolt shrank again. So what’s possible is…”

“—If they can enter the castle, they should have been there from the beginning.”

　If it was recovered and safely stored inside the castle, as Al pointed out, where else would they keep it?

　If they could launch an operation into the Crystal Palace, they wouldn’t resort to a strategy relying on reinforcements, but in order to welcome said reinforcements, neutralizing this caster was essential—

“Well, I wonder. Would they leave such an impressive weapon just lying around in the castle? Weapons that pop up with significance need to be used.”

　As Grooby and Al were conversing, Cecilis, with his hands behind his head, interrupted.

　With his back to Grooby and Al, Cecilis gazed at them, repeatedly murmuring, “Hmm, hmm.”

“What the hell? If you want to say something, just spit it out!”

“No, no. Why don’t you two just carry on with your talk? It’s not like anything I say will get through to you two, anyway, so it’s fine, really.”

“Are you sulking over Arakia, you damn fool?! She’s the girl you often fight with! She should be around here somewhere! Enough of this nonsense, just hurry up and speak!”

“Ewww, if you want me that badly, I guess I have no choice, huh. —Quite simply, from the enemy’s standpoint, wouldn’t it be better to not leave such powerful weapons sitting around in the castle?”

　Cecilis’s sulking expression vanished in an instant, replaced by a bright smile, and Grooby’s eyebrows furrowed, realizing that comment was unexpectedly valid.

　In other words, if Cecilis’s conjecture was correct, it was highly likely that the “Dream Sword” and the “Cursed Blade” were in the possession of one of the undead.

　And that was—

“If those weapons are that powerful, they must have been entrusted to someone in a critical location, right?”

“Damn it!”

　Just as Cecilis stated, Grooby reluctantly agreed, realizing that chance was indeed high.

　Meaning, it was wise to reduce variables and head to where they were most appropriate.

“If Barloi is number three, then that guy is different. His weapon is a spear, and he wouldn’t make a stupid decision to switch to something else.”

“Then it must be elsewhere. I’d hate for Al to waste the diversion he set up for his parents.”

“No, I agree. However, it’s a consensus that this guy has to go. When the brothers arrive, leaving this one as the only obstacle is no joke at all.”

　Al shook his clenched fist, and Cecilis squinted at Grooby.

　The course of action was established. They would look for whoever might possess the “Cursed Blade” at other critical locations, which gave off a feeling of randomness—

“Damn it, at least figure out where we might find it first.”

“Hmm… just a hunch, but it might be number two?”

“If it’s southeast, it’s still relatively close from here. Then, we’ll use the wolf skin again and go as three…”

“No.”

　Just as Grooby had decided on their next location, he cut Al off.

　Shaking his head, Grooby tossed the wolf skin he had into Al’s hands, turning his back to both of them as he headed for the alley’s entrance.

　And then—

“From here, we’ll split up. I need to keep the damn enemy from moving. —It’s a hellish role, but I’m the only one who can do it.”

“—Hey, I get it, but the thorns are still there! The conditions are the same for both me and you!”

　Grooby didn’t stop at Al’s protests.

　As Al tried to follow him, Cecilis’s small hand pressed against Al’s chest, holding him back. While Al was held, Cecilis turned to the walking Grooby.

“You have a solid chance, right?”

“At the very least, I’ll buy some time for that moron to do his job. Who do you think I am? The ‘Nine Divine General’ known as Grooby Gamuret!”

　Grooby raised his arm high, confidently declaring his basis for self-assurance over his shoulder to Cecilis.

　It seemed to resonate particularly well with Cecilis, who let out a contented huff, the kind of joyous breath that didn’t require sight to detect.

“Then please, go all out. Next time, we will meet with the ‘Cursed Blade’ in tow!”

　Thus, amid the familiar and flamboyant flow of Grooby’s farewell, he was sent off into battle.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　△▼△▼△▼△

　――After parting ways with Cecilis and Al, Grooby leaps through the Imperial Capital.

　Without hesitation, he jumped across the street, kicking off the walls of buildings and leaping triumphantly.

　From here, unlike the stealthy movement associated with the wolf skin, he had to act flamboyantly to draw the enemy’s attention.

　Finally, at long last, an opportunity to display his true prowess had arrived.

“Damn it for forcing me to act all cramped up!”

　With pent-up frustration, Grooby spat curses out with disdain.

　Normally, Grooby hated actions such as fleeing and hiding from others. It wasn’t about being good or bad at it; he simply hated it.

　Yet since being forced to engage in such behavior after withdrawing from the western front due to the rise of undead, and continuing all the way to the Imperial Capital, he finally reached his limit.

　Of course, while this wasn’t the reason he proposed to go alone, now that he had the chance to rampage freely, he would relish it to the fullest.

“—You dare show up, you bastards!”

　Grooby, hugging his knees and spinning around in a whirling motion, felt the thorns crawling on his beast-furred chest as he drew nearer to the caster, and the binding came into effect once more.

　The stabbing pain piercing directly into his soul was something that even a warrior accustomed to pain would find difficult to endure; that was simply an undeniable truth.

　However—

“If this damned curse is here to inflict pain, then there’s a way to counter it!”

　Roaring with conviction, Grooby drew a short dagger from the waistband wrapped around his body.

　Chosen from among several daggers was one marked with purple lines, and Grooby pressed the blade against his own neck, stabbing himself.

　At that moment, the poison hidden within the blade surged into Grooby’s body, spreading rapidly through his bloodstream, consuming his contracted physique. The exhilaration of the potent venom fulfilling its purpose to kill surged through him as he would—

But just before the lethal action was complete, he pulled the blade away.

“—Ah!”

　Grooby held back the sensation of his stomach contents reversing, his eyes wide open and bloodshot.

　The capillaries in his eyeballs ruptured, reddening his gaze; however, his body held firm, rebounding just before being slain by the potent toxin, emerging with an altered condition.

　Part of his bodily sensations fell silent with the toxin. —He nullified the pain.

　In that instant, the thorn pain that had halted Grooby’s actions vanished, and the tightening grip around his heart was forcibly overwhelmed by the excitement of surviving the life-threatening event he had just experienced.

　Normally, this poison was used for torture, administered to captured enemies to render them pain-free, forcing them to bear witness to their body decaying.

　However, if the dosage is adjusted, one could remain active while only eliminating the pain. Although Grooby had always wanted to try it but had never found the opportunity, he ended up successfully achieving it on his first attempt.

“I can’t mess around when experimenting on Cecilis’ dumb ass, as it might cost me dearly if I make a mistake.”

　Knowing his own body intimately, Grooby could perceive his essence without a single deviation even down to the number of his fur follicles. Thus, he could adjust accordingly, but if he tried on Cecilis or Al, it would be a life-or-death gamble.

　Would even Cecilis perish from the poison? Grooby didn’t have the slightest interest in confirming that—but he suppressed that creeping curiosity and aimed for the Fourth Peak.

　Given the current circumstances, the highest priority was to save the Volakia Empire from the brink of destruction.

　In truth, he yearned to gather materials from already-extinct races or rarer beings, using the resurrection of the undead to maximum effect, but he regrettably had to let that go.

　That alone was enough reason for the flames of determination to swell fiercely within Grooby.

“Damn it!”

　A short curse, born from the unresolved irritation that refused to fade.

　Since witnessing the Imperial Capital under the control of the undead, Grooby had recalled the possibility of either Vincent or Chisha being dead. If one of them is indeed dead, it’s most likely that it was Chisha.

　Vincent had seemed to carry a scent of detached death, but at one point, that aura abruptly disappeared, coinciding with the current crisis.

“Damn it, that pale-faced idiot…”

　While he often seemed to lack emotion, it was evident that Vincent had ultimately failed to conceal his inner turmoil.

　On the brink of the decisive battle in the Imperial Capital, Grooby had been pushed away from the battlefield by Vincent’s instruction, but it seemed that Vincent had become Chisha in the interim.

　In the meantime, Grooby had no means to ascertain Vincent’s current state, and given the backstory behind Cecilis’s retaliation, it resembled a single-player win for Chisha.

　However, if that victory came at the cost of the Empire’s downfall, then it would amount to nothing.

“Damn it!”

　Such an absurd scenario should not even exist.

　Grooby was a bearddrenched beastman, born, raised, and living within the Empire. His actions were directly connected to the elevation of his race’s status, having been told that it was his duty to bravely fight and die.

　Grooby bore the consciousness of existing to etch his name into the annals of the Empire’s history and, indeed, he was recognized by the Emperor and rapidly promoted to the Empire’s foremost general.

　It was the “Nine Divine Generals” that represented those Grooby acknowledged as his equals or even superiors.

　Grooby was a warrior of the Empire, and one who believed in the philosophy of “Those who are of the Empire must be strong.”

　Thus, for him, victory or defeat held a sacred essence. —Winners must be celebrated.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it…!”

　If the unspoken rules of the endless battles of Volakia were to be twisted, then this world would turn to hell.

　And hell was something the enemies of Volakia were to experience; this world could not be allowed to become hell.

　He must let the enemies know where the hell resides.

“—Damn it, found you!”

　Spying multiple shadows moving as he spun around, Grooby muttered.

　The cluster of undead beneath him was also hollering something as they spotted the flying Grooby. Their responses were far too sluggish. While they wouldn’t pose a threat if left unchecked, there was no reason to leave them alone.

　More than anything, Grooby saw no option to miss the prey in the scent of blood.

　With a loud sound, he gnashed his teeth as Grooby unsheathed his chained sickle.

　It was a weapon that combined a wide-bladed sickle with a pendant connected by a chain that was quite tricky to wield. Normally, the length of the chain ranged only a few meters, designed for close to mid-range combat; however, Grooby’s weapon was made from a special material.

　Thus, even at a distance of nearly thirty meters, the pendulum would reach the cluster of undead with ease.

　Swinging the sickle widely while the chain’s pendant trailed behind, the weight of the pendulum soared as it flew towards the ground. Though the size of the pendant was no larger than a human fist, its amplified impact was not something that could be reckoned against the sheer power of a punch.

　As expected, the undead flew to avoid it, trying to flee from the path of the pendulum—but they were just too naïve.

“Damn fools!”

　Grooby’s roar directed at the launching pendant, made contact with the ground.

　In an instant, the pendant erupted in a brilliant red glow, triggering an explosion that engulfed the surrounding buildings; an enormous shockwave devoured the fleeing undead, devastating an entire street of the Imperial Capital.

　――To the northwest of the Kararagi City-State, near the great waterfall, lies the Gilal Red Hill.

　That place, which appears as a red desert, is the most dangerous region constructed from fine particles of fire magic stones that look like grains of sand. Merely a gust of wind could trigger extraordinary chain explosions, a land said to be born from the blood tears of a great spirit that missed entering the Four Great Elements.

　The pendulum of Grooby’s sickle contained fire magic stones collected from the Gilal Red Hill, and having absorbed the surrounding mana, it unleashed horrific destructive power this way.

　Bathed in the aftershocks of the explosive heat that obliterated an entire street, Grooby landed in the charred wasteland and straightened his posture.

“OOOOOOOHH—!!”

　Letting out a primal scream, Grooby unleashed the sympathetic urge for destruction swelling from within.

　His heart thudded rhythmically, urging him about the constricting vines, yet there was no pain. He savored the sensation of scorching heat consuming his body while exhaling the scent of blood.

　And as he clenched his teeth tightly, he readied his sickle again.

“That damned curse can’t make a surprise attack worth a damn!!”

　Launching the chained pendulum toward the approaching figure clad in a red cloak from the sky.

　The proven destructive force of the pendant would be met head-on by the approaching figure wielding a sword, and immediately after, the flames would engulf them.

　However—

“Tch!”

　In that moment, Grooby witnessed the flames enveloping the sky being cleaved in two, propelling him backward.

　The unnatural change in the flames was evidence that the figure darting in had sliced through them. This same enemy was also the one who unleashed the thorn curse upon Grooby and his surroundings, as the reactive vines writhed in response to the master’s arrival.

　If he hadn’t silenced his pain with poison, he would have been reduced to bloodied convulsions by now.

　While he would have liked to say that he was wholly superior to this opponent if they only relied on thorns, fate had dealt him a complex foe.

“A surprise attack is beneath me. Why must I resort to such cowardly tactics?”

　As he spoke, the shadow that landed in the scorched earth slowly turned to face Grooby.

　With cracked, pale-blue skin and golden eyes glowing in the black, that form checked all boxes for undead criteria as he had expected, yet bore a visage that exceeded expectations.

　Firstly, the design of the garment was one only permitted for the Volakia nobility, and the face bore an uncanny resemblance to Vincent Volakia, but more notably was what the figure held in their grasp.

　That shone with a blood-red resplendence, the “Sun Blade,” a weapon only the Emperor of Volakia would possess.

“Damn it!”

　If the undead could be resurrected, it was certainly plausible for the Volakia royal family to return as well.

　Thus, while the fact that they wielded the “Sun Blade” surprised Grooby, what drove him into disbelief were the further surreal realities that unfolded.

　The undead emperor, holding the “Sun Blade” low in his right hand, bore a different weapon in the left.

　A weapon he had never anticipated seeing in the hands of this undead being—

“—How far will this damned sword defy me!!”

　Grooby roared in vexation as he gazed at the undead emperor, who was holding the “Cursed Blade” Murakami—two impossibly magical swords, the “Sun Blade” and the “Cursed Blade,” stood as foes to Grooby Gamuret, the “Curse Wielder.”