―― It wasn’t because someone told her to. It was Arakia who took a bite.

“――――”

The sound of blood flowing rushed in like pain.

A heartbeat faster than during battle, each thud felt like a nail piercing her soul, sending shocks through her body, yet that very sensation oddly put Arakia at ease.

The fact that her heart was pumping blood meant she still resembled a human.

Even if it was just a trivial comfort like a margin of error, it was necessary for Arakia to stir herself and not scatter her soul.

―― The unique existence known as the “Spirit Eater” only existed in this world as Arakia.

Born at the end of the researchers’ obsession, those who should be called madmen made this forbidden existence—”Spirit Eater” was named Arakia and has lived as one of a kind under the fate that cannot be shared with anyone.

In her diluted self-awareness, clinging only to what she considered her “pillar,” Arakia consumed spirits, acted with power, and fulfilled her role.

She thought that was acceptable.

Yet it was not, as she discovered when she lost her “pillar.”

Even realizing it was too late, according to the true conclusion of the “Spirit Eater,” it would have quickly led to the collapse of her self and to be engulfed by the spirits she consumed, obliterating her soul.

However, Arakia did not end up that way. There were two possible factors.

One was that her “pillar” was a brilliant figure like the sun, radiant enough that she could not lose sight of it even when parted.

The other was the reason Arakia would never want to admit— that in the days after being separated from her “pillar,” the thunderclap of her existence constantly resonated in her soul, reminding her of her inferior feelings and continuously stimulating her individuality.

Illuminated by the dazzling sun and constantly accompanied by the raucous thunder, Arakia preserved her soul.

“And thus, I conclude this; I would like to inquire if you are aware of this.”

“…No.”

This happened during the year Arakia’s rank surpassed Roswaal’s and she was promoted to “Two.”

Chisha’s insights gleaned from the literature left about the “Spirit Eater” etched an unexpectedly long-lasting frown on her face.

That was understandable. Chisha was wise and articulate, but that perspective was difficult for Arakia to accept.

Arakia herself only understood her existence as a “Spirit Eater” instinctively, yet she wanted to believe she was wholly made up of Priska.

She did not want to dilute that prayer-like wish with any other components.

Moreover――,

“…Why did you bring that up?”

Questioning her surprise at Chisha’s topic, it was shocking that he even brought it up.

Priska, Arakia’s “pillar”—the fact that she escaped the “Ceremony of Selection” as an exceptional case and was sent abroad alive was a secret even within the Volakia Empire.

At that time, Arakia and Chisha, who were involved in that expulsion, naturally knew, but they had not spoken of it for years, regardless of who might ask.

So, why did Chisha mention it now?

“I want to know if you are a frail and fleeting existence or not. Can I count you among the numbers for the impending great battle?”

“…That makes no sense. I am a ‘Nine Divine General.'”

Of course, being summoned to suppress rebellions or such was expected for Chisha and Vincent.

However, upon Arakia’s reply, Chisha lowered his eyes, making a rare expression. Most of the time, he seemed emotionless or exasperated, but now he wore a smile seldom seen.

That smile caught Arakia off guard as Chisha continued.

“It seems more likely it will be something a bit bigger than the battles you envision. I know you don’t truly consider me an ally as you serve His Excellency from the heart.”

“――――”

“Even knowing this, it’s somewhat hurtful when my concerns are dismissed, you know.”

“…I will not vanish for the princess.”

Avoiding Chisha’s reaction to her forehead touch, Arakia stroked her eye patch and replied.

The reason she existed as “Arakia,” the answer of her soul was crystal clear. Nothing to worry about as Chisha thought; such scenarios would not occur. Though it wasn’t to reassure Chisha, she said so.

“Also, it has nothing to do with Cecilis.”

“Ha. After all, it’s merely my theory. If you insist it’s different, I’d like you to let Cecilis be defeated at least once.”

“Isn’t that a bit much? Weren’t you talking about me just now? Don’t exclude me, you two. Or was this a consultation regarding Anya’s slim chances without learning from her losing streak?”

“Cecilis, die.”

In the end, during the ensuing clash with Cecilis, Chisha, avoiding being caught in the middle, fled, and so no further conversation took place.

Afterward, Arakia didn’t even recall continuing her discussion with Chisha.

“――――”

Yet, she thought idly.

When would that large battle Chisha was concerned about arrive? Would she be included among those counted when it came?

If given the opportunity, she wanted to ask.

Her association with Chisha had grown longer.

From the relationship born out of the “Ceremony of Selection” which led to her being apart from Priska, the reasons for that separation deeply involved in her thoughts about Chisha remained unresolved.

However, Chisha had taught her to read and write. She owed him that. For the sake of that debt, it felt right to engage with the battle he desired.

―― Or will this also become an issue besides Priska?

She disliked Cecilis. She had mixed feelings about Vincent but could hardly forgive him because of Priska. Roswaal made entertaining jokes. Goz had a funny face. Guruby was harsh but caring, while Moguro didn’t make a face when listening. She found Yorna difficult, but couldn’t truly dislike her. Barroi occasionally took her flying on a flying dragon, and she felt she and Madelin should avoid each other. She was thankful toward Todd.

―― Or will this all count as reasons other than Priska?

“――――”

With a feeling she might fall apart, on the verge of being torn and the sensation of losing herself with every memory, Arakia gathered “Arakia” together.

If she didn’t do so, her existence itself would vanish— not that.

“――Masama.”

If she didn’t take this action, she wouldn’t be able to suppress the explosive turmoil within herself.

It was overwhelmingly immense. It bore an unimaginable weight. It was unbearably distorted. It could destroy the empire if left unattended.

If she couldn’t manage to restrain it, she couldn’t protect her “pillar”— Priska.

So, Arakia, without anyone telling her, took a bite. Into her small, slender body she absorbed the “Stone Block” Muspel.

The “Witch” who called herself a monster must not be allowed to misuse this Great Spirit and destroy the empire.

For that――,

“I gather you consumed something bad. Truly, you are a handful.”

The raucous thunder felt like it was stitching together her soul that was ripped apart.

Haunted by the pain and loss like storm clouds, Arakia continued to gather “Arakia,” repeatedly fighting against the haze of her existence.

Fighting on, enduring.―― Hoping for the sole possibility clinging onto her faded soul.

△▼△▼△▼△

Counting had become a chore, yet it had turned into a habit.

By deliberately turning it into a detailed number, she could belittle the reality she faced— not that she’d claim such cleverness. It was just a habit.

That habit counted.―― This would be the one hundred ninety-first time.

“I hate being this mundane…”

Feeling the heat rising and sweat dripping inside her helmet, Al muttered.

On the stage of the dissolved Second Pinnacle, the futile struggle of an incongruous supporting role continued. A heatwave enveloped the area, causing the atmosphere to waver, clearly transitioning this space into another dimension.

Moment by moment, the world was being reshaped into hell, and human endeavors failed to adapt.

Trees and buildings ignited, sand and scraps began to melt. The sound of Al’s palm gripping the Blue Dragon Blade hissed, as the clothing he wore flickered, on the verge of igniting.

In this environment, just standing could result in being engulfed in flames at any moment. In fact, there had been instances where he ended up as a fireball more than once.

Even in such harsh conditions――,

“TAKATATATATATATATA—!!”

Fearlessly, a figure zipped across the bubbling magma, erupting like thunder, performing a grand ballet with dazzling speed.

With deep blue disarrayed hair fluttering, the vibrant pink kimono billowing was none other than Cecilus Segmunt, strutting as the star of this world.

The speed across the magma, the unbelievable workout for a child’s thin legs, seemingly boundless stamina made him a fearsome opponent, and courage enough to confront foes that shaped the world with blinks— all of it first-rate.

Declaring the world a stage, he inserted himself as the leading actor, even being mindful of the unseen audience’s image, Cecilus carried himself with an attitude befitting his boastful words.

Against this out-of-spec powerful enemy, who else could manage to maintain a fight except him?

“—Tou!”

With a childish high-pitched shout, Cecilus’ body leaped diagonally.

At that moment he pushed off, the ground beneath him buckled, exploding from within. Using that blast as an aid, Cecilus twisted midair and soared.

Right after, the lightning kick powerful enough to blow away a stone pillar as thick as a tree trunk shot through the air toward the silver-haired wolf girl— Arakia.

“—Ah, u.”

Arakia, with her exposed tanned skin crying blood tears from her jewel-like red eyes.

As Cecilus’ sole shoes, adorned with burnt zori, rushed straight toward the torso of the moaning girl, the impact echoed loudly in the sky.

“~~!!”

In an instant, Cecilus was knocked back with tremendous speed that sent him crashing into the ground while suppressing a groan, lifting his face.

After a moment’s delay, blood spurted from his white forehead, tinting the tender childlike face red.

“You’ve started to predict my moves perfectly.”

Licking the blood that fell along his well-defined nose, Cecilus assessed the fact he had been countered.

There was no hint of surprise. It wasn’t the first time he had been countered.

His lightning-fast attacks had been thwarted and shot down repeatedly over a dozen times, and the outlook was deteriorating rapidly, and severely.

“Arakia-chan is in trouble.”

While waiting for an opening to intervene, Al watched Arakia floating in distorted space.

The sight of Arakia had shifted even more grotesquely than just a few moments ago, growing magical crystals that burst from inside her slender girlish body.

Those protrusions from her arms and back resembled angelic wings from afar.

But in reality, they were the drastic manifestation of the enormous entity Arakia had absorbed, trying to burst through the girl’s body that confined it.

“Damn it.”

Gradually eroded by power, Arakia was stepping beyond her human appearance, and Al could only vent his frustration into swearing.

While he understood the desire to seek ways to supplement her lacking strength to fulfill her wishes.

He could imagine that Arakia had the potential to reach far greater heights than himself, and many options within her grasp.

But still, if she absorbed something incompatible with her physique, Arakia’s unique talents would turn against herself, her surroundings, and the precious things she wanted to protect.

The repayment for such clarity of backlash is evidently reflected in this dire situation.

――Initially, it was Cecilus who held the advantage in the fight against Arakia.

He intentionally directed prickly hostility toward her to keep the now hazardous Arakia from bursting forth, continuously stimulating her primal awareness of danger to set the stage.

Frankly, pitted against transcendent warriors several tiers above, Al barely had room to intervene.

Even so, amid the nearly 200 attempts at trial and error, he managed to prevent Cecilus from losing limbs, at least twice.

During that time, Arakia uncompromisingly spilled the overflowing water held in a glass, endangering both Al and Cecilus’ lives significantly.

However, if that was just to repeat itself, naturally, Al, who was playing unfair, could never catch Cecilus who danced as an entity beyond rationality.

But the situation changed.

With the aforementioned grotesqueness of Arakia advancing, her fighting style abruptly shifted.

“—Here it comes!”

Raising a voice almost bubbling with excitement, Cecilus’ golden eyes sparkled, even as he wiped away blood.

In an instant, the space around Cecilus warped, and twisted stone pillars leaped from all sides, akin to a great serpent attacking the boy. As he ducked, leapt, and twisted to avoid the attacking stone pillars, Cecilus moved into his top speed.

But Arakia, shedding blood tears, relentlessly pursued with her assault.

As the ground buckled under Cecilus’ advancing path, large arms made of stone and earth grew from the ground attempting to crush the boy.

“Unfortunately, touching the stage actors is prohibited!”

Uttering it offhandedly, Cecilus used the artificial arms that descended like a flyswatter as a stepping stone to ascend, using them like steps to scale the heights, then he reversed and countered the approaching stone fist by attempting to leap at Arakia again.

However――,

“I messed up—!”

The colossal fist would turn a normal human to ash just by brushing against it; he took it with the sole of his zori, utilizing the tension of his entire body to absorb the lethal impact, and only rode on the momentum.

With the speed of a ballistic missile, Cecilus dove toward Arakia— lighting sparked in his path.

In the midst of the steely path, Al raised his Blue Dragon Blade and struck downward before Cecilus could leap into the shining light.

In the next moment, the direct hit from Al’s Blue Dragon Blade sparkled brightly, engulfing Al’s nearby figure and Cecilus, sending them flying away into oblivion――,

×　　×　　×

“I messed up—!”

While he absorbed the colossal fist at the heel of his zori, Cecilus flew like a missile while shouting.

Before he could even voice that shout, Al pointed the tip of the Blue Dragon Blade into the empty air.

“DONAah!!”

Compared to Arakia, it was a trivial magic, but the pebble created soared through the air, destroying the genesis of the impending destructive light.

For a moment, the fierce flash scorched Al’s eyes even through his helmet, but it bore no power to extinguish Al’s life or diminish Cecilus’s speed.

“Al-san, that was great!!”

As the flare of light gave away the attacker, the sensation of just missing death washed over Cecilus as he lunged toward Arakia.

His raised right hand formed a blade, likely sharper than even any half-baked sword. It slashed the air diagonally, striking against Arakia, who had wings made of magical crystal――,

“――!”

In that instant, a thunderous roar reverberated, and Al hallucinated the scene of the sky being cleaved apart.

It was not an illusion; the shockwave of Cecilus’s handblade passed behind him and struck down a collapsing building nearby, leading to its downfall.

However, the crucial thing was that Arakia, bathed in the handblade, remained unshaken in the air.

The blood-stained eyes shifted to stare right at Cecilus, despite receiving the full force of the blow.

As she flapped her magical crystal wings in return, she silently mouthed a faint sound――,

“――――”

Just after her thin lips formed a faint utterance, a strike ensued that fatally gouged into Cecilus.

△▼△▼△▼△

As the time flowed, elapsed, and passed, “Arakia” vanished.

Gradually experiencing the sensation of her existence and soul’s whereabouts being blotted out, Arakia desperately tried to recall the brilliance of her sun.

She had been a surplus existence. Though created through numerous sacrifices, her creators had been negligent afterward, turning her into an unruly dangerous being without purpose.

Standing placidly against such a fearsome existence, knowing neither its utility nor correct handling, she beckoned it to follow alongside her path in life.

That completed grandeur made it impossible to defy it.

No rebellious sentiments or resistances could possibly sprout. She was the embodiment of what Arakia deemed right, and her presence held the very meaning of Arakia’s existence.

To not lose that glow, to ensure nothing beautiful slipped away, she chose to part ways if necessary, suffering her soul being torn apart to endure.

To endure, endure, and see the dawn rising beyond that veil.

――If she could protect that dawn, she would not mind not feeling the sunlight showered upon her.

Fiercely wailing and throwing tantrums for unattainable wishes, finally garnering the sun’s disappointed gaze couldn’t go on without arriving at this conclusion.

—

She thought she had been abandoned by the sun.

The sun, she felt, no longer shone upon her.

Yet, in that decisive battle in the Imperial Capital, when faced with Arakia crying deeply, the sun— Priska, pointed her “Sun Sword” at her and did not slash.

Later, even surrounded by the servants of the “Great Calamity,” she could have escaped; she surely could have. Yet, she chose to become a captive in exchange for Arakia’s well-being.

In the insincerity of her heart, that radiance was unchanged.

If Priska remained unchanged, Arakia yearned to keep her vows intact as well.

―― Priska Benedict.

A symbol of the fallen and yet rising sun of the Volakia Empire.

Thinking of her, Arakia could remain as “Arakia.”

Her soul gained heat, staving off the impending limit of bursting.

However, while her loyalty and affection for Priska were eternal, the threshold could not be stretched into forever.

Holding onto a presence threatening to consume and obliterate her.

As Arakia continued to resist the mental violation, without the leeway to deny the harsh reality around her, a being borrowing Arakia’s form continued to expand its destruction.

The destruction became more refined, the downfall increased its momentum, and collapse was merely a matter of time.

Having spent centuries in stagnation, indifferent whether her power was used for human conflicts or for the richness of their endeavors, the “Stone Block” knew the resistance against disappearing only after it was poured into the fragile vessel called Arakia.

The Great Spirit absorbed by Arakia manifested a defense mechanism that would not have occurred otherwise, ironically intensifying its threat to protect the very vessel that was Arakia.

“――――”

Someone was, someone was resisting to stop Arakia.

As that “someone” lessened Arakia’s strength, it encouraged the halt of “Arakia” from being lost.

However, it was not enough. Simply weakening was insufficient to contain the tide.

To hinder the objective of the “Great Calamity,” Arakia took a bite.

Being something that would be done to a Great Spirit, becoming consumed by Arakia made the spirit understand the fear of vanishing.

Just a little more push. With one more push, the Great Spirit would comprehend.

To ensure “Arakia” does not disappear, the sun was necessary.

And, it was essential to fulfill “Arakia’s” vows.―― The thunderclap.

Someone was, someone was resisting to stop Arakia.

It wasn’t enough. That “someone” was not sufficient. She knew who was needed.

So, Arakia, on the verge of bursting, waited eagerly.

―― For the real thunder to resound, she awaited earnestly.

△▼△▼△▼△

“—Kill me, Cecilus.”

The moment those words reached his ears, his thoughts inexplicably halted.

After delivering his strongest handblade and being glared at for it having had no effect, the beautiful girl, tears of blood streaming down her face, cried out those frail words.

“――――”

Just then, before he could swallow that murmur, Cecilus received a fierce blow to his chest.

The girl’s slender arm, with its sharp magical crystals jutting out, was no different from a blade, and shockingly, Cecilus’s thin chest was brutally sliced open, staining his cute kimono with blood as he fell.

Pain, yes. He felt he had messed up. The signs of a dire predicament were more than sufficient.

However, farther than the gash deeply carved into him, or the blood flowing through the air, his gaze could not stray from the girl’s pained expression and the words she had spoken—.

『■■！！』『■■■■』『■●■●■●■』『■■■■●●■■』『●●●■■■』『――■■』『●●●●●！！』『■■■●■●●■■●●』『●●……■』『●●■■●■■●●』『●■●■●■●■』『●●■●■●●●■■●――！』

“—I’m sorry, but I must insist you be quiet!!”

In that moment, Cecilus exclaimed vehemently against the unending clamor of the audience.

『――――』

Naturally, Cecilus would never silence the audience during usual circumstances.

He would regard the voice as fuel to raise his motivation and would calmly let it drift by.

Yet, he silenced them, yearning for the silence that even the pain became bothersome.

“――――”

While falling, Cecilus continued to gaze at the girl amidst the silence where the audience’s voices had ceased.

Arakia, shedding blood tears and lamenting, unleashed destruction upon the world, intertwining her wish among her meaningless moans.

That wish, none other than her own name, signified her fate as a leading actress, without a doubt.

However――,

“—To kill me is intolerable.”

Accepting the pain or shock was simpler than accepting the constructed line, Cecilus gritted his teeth.

In an instant, he folded his knees and reversed direction mid-air, safely landing, avoiding the cascade of descending stone pillars aimed at him.

And he raised his gaze.

“That wasn’t directed at me, was it?”

Naturally, in this situation, Cecilus couldn’t imagine anyone else being called by that name.

However, Cecilus fully understood that it wasn’t himself whom the tearful girl wished for nor entrusted her desire to.―― And that irritated him immensely.

A major scene, the critical battle, the climactic moment, it could be phrased however one liked.

In that moment, that scene, and that spotlight prepared for Cecilus Segmunt could not possibly belong to anyone but him.

Thus――,

“—Cecilus! You’re wounded…”

“I made my decision, Al-san.”

While Cecilus, deeply wounded and bleeding, responded to Al, who somehow aimed the Blue Dragon Blade at his throat, he ripped a piece off his torn kimono and gathered the scattered blue hair behind his back with the strings.

Then he laughed, looked up at the weeping girl—the heroine, and declared.

“Let the heavenly audience behold. —Whom the world will choose.”