— “Witch of Envy,” Emilia gasped, her eyes wide in shock.

There were two shocking things: one was that it had been a very long time since she was referred to as the “Witch of Envy,” and the other was that being called the “Witch of Envy” hadn’t hurt her at all.

Over a year had passed since the Royal Selection began, and nearly everyone in the Lugnica Kingdom knew that a half-elf with silver hair and dark purple eyes was one of the candidates.

In a Subaru-style way of putting it, Emilia had become known as Emilia.

Thus, opportunities for Emilia to wear her anti-recognition robe had decreased. The only reason she was wearing it properly in the Empire after such a long time was to prevent herself from being discovered as Emilia.

So, it had been a while since she was called the “Witch of Envy.” And she was not shaken by it. — She had a clear core to say that’s not true.

The core that recognized Emilia as Emilia and that someone liked her.

“I am Emilia, just Emilia. I’m not the ‘Witch of Envy.'”

Supported by that core, Emilia was able to respond straight back to the other person.

After saying that, Emilia stared intently at the familiar white-haired woman in front of her.

“You also… look really similar, but you don’t seem like Echidna? Could you possibly be Echidna’s twin, like Ram and the others? Or her sister? Little sister?”

“—Oh. You have quite the imagination. But I am a created being of the Creator, not a blood relative. Correction needed.”

“Created being? Not a relative…”

Emilia frowned at the unfamiliar words, understanding only that the other person denied being Echidna’s sister.

Thinking about it calmly, since Echidna was from four hundred years ago, it would be very strange for either her or her sisters to be here. Of course, since it was a situation where the dead could rise, one could consider that perhaps Echidna and her sisters could be alive as well.

“But you look like you’re alive and well, so you don’t seem to be dead.”

The woman who looked very much like Echidna had a healthy complexion, unlike the Undead, and her gaze seemed normal as well. Compared to Echidna, she might have a slightly stiffer expression.

The Echidna Emilia knew often had a mischievous look on her face. — The last tearful expression she showed still vividly lingered in Emilia’s heart.

“Um, I understand you’re not Echidna, but can I ask your name?”

“Well, being called by the name of the Creator weighs on me too. Please, call me the ‘Witch of Greed.'”

“…Isn’t there a more convenient name?”

“—Correction needed. Otherwise, Sphinx.”

“Sphinx!?”

Just as Emilia had finally heard a name that sounded about right, she realized that it was the same name as the one at the center of the “Great Calamity.”

As far as Emilia recalled, Sphinx should have looked quite a bit like Ryuzu.

“Is Sphinx similar to Ryuzu, who looks like someone related to the ‘Sanctuary’? Then next, will it be Garfiel or Frederica…?”

“You know about the ‘Sanctuary?’ It seems you and I may indeed have a connection… Emilia, you are a candidate for the Royal Selection just like Priscilla Barielle, aren’t you?”

“Huh? Yes, that’s right. I need to find Priscilla and bring her back soon—”

“—Correction needed.”

In an instant, the woman who tilted her head—Sphinx emitted white light from her finger, and Emilia reflexively deflected it with an ice mirror she created.

If Emilia had been skilled in earth magic instead of fire magic, she might have been dealt a lethal blow as the earth or stone walls would have been pierced in an instant.

It was an attack filled with such murderous intent that it sent chills down her spine.

Moreover—

“Geez! You just started so suddenly!”

The released white light did not stop at just that one shot; it chased after Emilia as she danced around with her silver hair, and the battle had begun.

The opponent looked a lot like Echidna, and apparently, she also excelled in magic.

But Emilia did too.

“If you’re going all out, then I’ll give it my all too! I’ll immobilize you and take you to where Subaru and the others are!”

“I never want to see them again. Therefore, I will take your life here and see what kind of face Priscilla Barielle makes.”

“—! Do you know where Priscilla is?”

While deflecting the barrage of light attacks with her ice sword, shimmering like a mirror, Emilia’s purple eyes lit up at Sphinx’s words.

Somehow, she had this feeling that Priscilla was in the Crystal Palace, but if she could get a solid location from Sphinx’s mouth, that would be best.

More determined than ever, Emilia was motivating herself. Meanwhile, Sphinx, who looked like Echidna, slightly furrowed her brow in irritation and said,

“It’s also a problem that I can’t secure this position. —Correction needed, I must repel you.”

So she quietly murmured.

△▼△▼△▼△

A battle had begun inside the tower where the Magical Crystal Cannon was installed, at the highest level of the Crystal Palace.

The space was overwhelmingly vast for the purpose it served, but even so, with walls and a ceiling, the enclosed environment was advantageous for the shinobi, Roswaal.

The shinobi’s skills boasted versatility and adaptability. This development was for the purpose of completing missions in any environment, but all these skills ultimately aimed to procure the life of the opponent.

It was an ideal space for achieving that purpose.

“In a cramped place like this, magic users will have a hard time, won’t they?”

Warfare is about imposing one’s strengths upon the opponent’s weaknesses.

That was the foundation of Roswaal’s combat style as a shinobi. Furthermore, to counter every opponent’s weaknesses, Roswaal intentionally avoided developing his own area of expertise.

Before Roswaal became the leader, it was customary for shinobi to specialize in one particular skill.

However, the ideal of specialization was only a privilege for those with a genuine skill that worked against anyone, like Cecilis or Arakia; mediocrity would lead to death from lack of adaptability.

Although Roswaal did not care how many people other than himself died, he possessed a semblance of pity for the shinobi who were taught the wrong things and died.

Thus, when Roswaal became the leader, he immediately discarded the teaching of specialization.

Instead of blindly honing his own skills, he thoroughly trained his strategy to crush the strengths of his opponents and instill a situation that could be guided towards that outcome. In fact, not much of that had truly come to fruition. It had barely taken shape, and the last one was a brilliant girl who appeared in the village four or five years ago.

That brilliant girl had presumably died as well, so cultivating talent had only brought disappointments.

— It truly is a lifetime filled with regrets.

“So at least, grant me the meaning of living until I grow old.”

Kicking the ground, Roswaal launched fragments of broken stone toward the “Witch,” attempting to crush her head.

Simultaneously, Roswaal swung his limbless right hand and his armed left hand side to side, throwing kunai that would spin and strike sequentially, while exploding off his back leg.

Even if the opponent dodged the projectiles, avoided Roswaal’s blade, or knocked out the approaching kunai from both sides, any of those actions would sap the “Witch” of her mobility and allow Roswaal to take her life.

That shinobi assault was—

“—Correction needed for awareness reform.”

The white-haired “Witch,” having narrowed her eyes slightly, did nothing but take it all in.

“—”

With the projectiles breaking her forehead, kunai pierced her neck and thigh, and Roswaal’s blade stabbed through her chest, the “Witch” didn’t move an inch.

She could not react to Roswaal’s movements. — No, the “Witch” was tracking those movements with her gaze. Roswaal concluded that she wasn’t as sluggish as her appearance suggested.

In other words, the “Witch” could have done something but chose to take in the attack instead. — No, she was about to do something now.

The next moment, numerous fist-sized orbs of light floated around the space between Roswaal and the “Witch.”

“Roswaal!”

At Moguro’s shout, who sensed the same thing, Roswaal raised a long eyebrow and glanced at the “Witch.”

The “Witch” remained unfazed, observing Roswaal’s next action with her lovely expression unchanged. Being gazed into by her made Roswaal feel nauseous as if his ninety years of life were being perused.

In that moment, Roswaal prioritized; shattering the “Witch’s” life took a backseat to sabotaging his goal.

Despite having sustained lethal injuries and having his chest pierced, he chose to sever the “Witch’s” mana flowing into the pedestal—the heart of the Crystal Palace.

“Annoyance is the true essence of a shinobi.”

In an instant, his heel touched the pedestal, blowing off the “Witch’s” wrist—

Countless light orbs surged toward Roswaal to obliterate him along with the magic user.

△▼△▼△▼△

“—Yorna Mishigure!”

The moment Vincent sensed the anomaly, he shouted at Yorna, who was observing the battlefield from a step away.

Above, from the semi-ruined Magical Crystal Cannon, Roswaal’s voice contained a pressing urgency that was unable to maintain the usual relaxed demeanor of the “Malicious Old Man.”

When he glanced sideways, he locked eyes with Yugaldo, who wielded his “Sun Sword” next to him and kept the surrounding undead at bay.

“Go for it.”

In short, upon recognizing his intention, Yugaldo was left in charge, and Vincent rushed towards Yorna. Upon receiving Vincent’s gaze, Yorna first looked blankly, then tightened her lips and released the hand of the fawn girl—Tanzer.

“Tanzer, I entrust Vincent to you!”

“—! Yes, understood!”

At Yorna’s call, Tanzer lowered her knees slightly and cupped her hands. Seeing the intent behind Tanzer’s movement, Vincent lightly jumped, placing his feet on the girl’s small hands.

In the next moment, with all her might, Tanzer tossed Vincent into the sky—aiming for the highest level of the Crystal Palace.

“—Huh!”

Covering the short flying distance and inadequate force by kicking off the castle wall, Vincent reached a height of over fifty meters. For a moment, it reminded him of Cecilis, who would do something like skip stairs, but such thoughts soon dissipated.

Roswaal was now close enough for Vincent to see him for the first time.

“Kekekek…! You think that’s gonna kill me, laughable right?”

Sitting with one knee up against the broken cannon’s wall, Roswaal was laughing in a low voice. However, his body was painted in blood, and his characteristic long brows drooped. Most notably, his left arm had been blown off following his right.

Just how strong were the opponents here that Roswaal was struggling so much?

— No, not now.

“Speak before you die. What is the plan of the ‘Witch’?”

“Kek! You think I’m an old fool? …Just look at Moguro.”

“Moguro Hagane…”

Following Roswaal’s words, which were literally dripping with blood, Vincent turned to the back of the worn cannon, where a green jewel—the magic core—was embedded.

The Crystal Palace, made lavishly from magical crystals, was essentially an unprecedented condensed mass of mana. The reason it could stand boldly in the heart of the Empire was due to the presence of this magic core controlling it all.

The magic core, this was the heart of the Crystal Palace. — Its green glimmer was oddly intensifying in Vincent’s dark eyes.

The implication of that was—

“—You plan to overload the magic core and blow up both the Crystal Palace and the Imperial Capital!”

“Roswaal, I’ve stopped her. The ‘Witch’ interrupted it halfway.”

Vincent trembled as he grasped the true intentions behind the “Witch’s” scheme when Moguro Hagane’s voice confirmed his suspicions.

As mentioned, the magic core miraculous stable states were a result of the magic core’s existence. By pouring massive amounts of mana into it, the “Witch” placed enormous strain on its processing capacity. This caused it to lose control and planned to break the balance of the magical crystals, blowing the city away.

Upon understanding all this, a momentary flaw appeared in Vincent’s mind.

“Was the ‘Witch’ here before the inferno began?”

“No. The ‘Witch’ was not burning. Roswaal and I attacked together.”

“——”

Vincent’s doubt remained unresolved by Moguro’s explanation.

The ‘Witch,’ referred to as Sphinx on this battlefield, had her soul cremated by the schemes of Chisha and Natsuki Subaru, leaving no trace behind.

So, did that mean there were two ‘Witches’? Or perhaps—

“This should take priority.”

Cutting off his wandering thoughts, Vincent looked down at the magic core.

Thanks to Roswaal’s valiant efforts, the collapse of the Imperial Capital due to the magic core’s runaway was averted—no, it had merely been postponed. A glance at the state of the magic core showed that it had already lost stability.

The flames had already been ignited within the magic core. Thus, its explosion was unavoidable.

“—Moguro Hagane, you have done well till now.”

When pushing that fact to the forefront, Vincent spoke to Moguro.

As the “Steel Man” Moguro Hagane, this very Crystal Palace, “Meteor,” had served the Emperor of Volakia, Vincent well. To put it plainly, he valued Moguro and Guruby above all others among the “Nine Divine Generals” who were more problem-ridden than potent.

The only way Vincent could repay his loyal retainer, Moguro, was with one thing.

“Your wish—for the peace of the Volakia Empire, will surely be fulfilled.”

“—I am grateful, Sir. You do not lie.”

“Fool, I’ll deceive as many others as necessary.”

“I do not deceive you.”

Moguro’s words, laced with conviction, eased a faint breath from Vincent, softening his lips.

This ‘Meteor,’ a bloodless stone doll, was a rare existence in the empire where intricate schemes reign supreme.

“…What do you plan to do, Sir?”

“I have no means to remove the core from its pedestal. Therefore, our only options are to incinerate both the magic core and the collapse of the Crystal Palace. — ‘Sun Sword’ Volakia.”

Upon being questioned by Roswaal, Vincent glanced at the clenched “Sun Sword.”

Calling Yugaldo over to wield the two “Sun Swords”—that would be meaningless. What was required in the forthcoming situation was not the number of attacks but the output.

To burn away the magic core and the power it contains with the flames of the “Sun Sword.” Before the power pouring from the magic core engulfed and destroyed the Crystal Palace, the Imperial Capital.

Most likely, everything would be resolved in the blink of an eye.

“Or, do you have another plan?”

“Nay? I have no plans; not even if I wanted to yield would I have both hands to do so. If you can’t think of something, then there’s no one in the entire empire, let alone the world, who can.”

“—Hmph.”

At the sight of the limbless shoulders being shrugged by the old man, Vincent gave a small snort.

To say that no one could think of countermeasures aside from him was an overestimation. If it weren’t Vincent, but Subaru, Chisha, or Priscilla who were here—

“Don’t dwell on futile matters, foolish Vincent Volakia.”

Saying this, he scoffed at himself, and Vincent readied the “Sun Sword” with both hands.

As he faced the increasingly brightening magic core, he wished for the radiance of the “Sun Sword,” the crimson sacred sword of the Volakia Empire, to manifest his power as the reigning Emperor of Volakia.

The next moment, a heat enveloped Vincent’s surroundings—no, the air around the “Sun Sword” became hot, distorting the world like a mirage. Dust ignited, air was scorched, and the mana in the atmosphere was forcibly altered to that of the fire attribute, reinforcing the brilliance of the “Sun Sword.”

The red blade began to shine white, showing signs of radiating heat.

“Whoa, this is bad.”

Vincent could sense the impact of the rising temperature of the “Sun Sword” being felt by Roswaal, who was here as well.

To begin with, the “Sun Sword” is a weapon rarely drawn. Even having seen three successive Emperors in his lifetime, it was perhaps Roswaal’s first time witnessing such power from the “Sun Sword.”

This was also the first time Vincent unleashed the full power of the “Sun Sword.”

However—

“—Not enough.”

Feeling a power surge unprecedented, Vincent confirmed the insufficiency of output.

Given the pressure mounting within the magic core and the ratio of magic crystals used to construct the palace, the current output of the “Sun Sword” would not be enough to nullify the explosion’s potency. It would not simply be a matter of reducing output. What was required was complete annihilation.

And that would be difficult to achieve with Vincent’s incomplete “Sun Sword.”

Vincent Volakia’s “Sun Sword” could not manifest its true worth.

The reason was simple and straightforward—Vincent had not completed the “Selection Ceremony” to officially endow him with Emperor status while keeping his younger sister, Priscilla Benedict, alive. He was merely a makeshift Emperor, having tricked all the citizens of the empire to attain the throne.

Thus, the “Sun Sword” of Volakia would not grant Vincent its true power.

The same went for Yugaldo, who was one of the past emperors when it came to the “Sun Sword.”

True strength only resided in the present legitimate emperor, even if the “Sun Sword” provided power to the Undead Yugaldo of royal bloodline.

Would they have to rely on an incomplete “Sun Sword”? Or—

“—In exchange for my life.”

He offered a cost, seeking the true flames of the “Sun Sword.”

This choice threatened to break the promise he had just exchanged with Moguro, but if it was necessary, Vincent would do it.

Everything was the result of the paths Vincent had chosen. In the end, standing here was the culminated result of every choice he had made.

Therefore—

“The responsibilities I must fulfill—”

“—There’s nothing like that, Abel!”

As Vincent attempted to offer up his life for the “Sun Sword,” his hand was suddenly held back by a white hand standing beside him.

Lost in focus, he hadn’t noticed the tall woman who had moved close. He was taken aback by the blue eyes peering into his side profile.

“Medium O’Connell…”

“Hehe, I came!”

“—”

Flustered and stammering, Vincent lost his words upon hearing Medium’s shy reply.

The place was positively inhospitable for any ordinary person to breathe due to the raging heat of the “Sun Sword.” Yet she had unexpectedly barged in with a smile.

Grinning, she held Vincent’s hand tightly, “I know you have a big responsibility, Abel. But you can’t just go and die. That’s the thing I hate the most!”

“Consider the gravity of the situation. You don’t even have the right to voice an opinion!”

“Of course I do! I’m gonna be Abel’s wife, right!?”

“That’s…”

“You said it was okay!”

“—”

“You did say it!”

Driven by her fervor, Medium pressed Vincent hard. It was a pressure different from the ones aimed at his life or those from potential political rivals.

Within Vincent’s mind was something he hadn’t prepared a method to resist against.

“Face reality! No matter how you want to cling to the idea of becoming the Empress, the core issue is—”

Just as Vincent tried to push her words away.

Out of nowhere, a sharp impact slapped his cheek, catching him by surprise and causing him to double-take at Medium. — She had just slapped the Emperor.

“Don’t ever say I worry about you like that again!”

“You…!”

With her cheeks sterned, Medium shot those words at Vincent, causing him to blink in surprise. After which, Medium gasped, “I’ve never seen Abel with both eyes closed before!”

The moment he heard this, Vincent felt utterly speechless.

He kept his eyes open. If he were to shut both eyes simultaneously, it would endanger the Emperor’s life. This was the ironclad rule of Volakia, and Vincent had adhered even to that during sleep.

However, he was made to break it—not to take his life, but by a woman who cared for him.

“Kekekek! Come on, come on, this isn’t the time for that, what a masterpiece, right?”

Seeing Vincent’s bewilderment, the nearly dead old man chimed in loudly. His thoughts and judgment returned to him, and Vincent gritted his teeth.

While it was true that he had momentarily been distracted, the situation had not changed at all.

The Imperial Capital, the Empire, indeed the world was on the brink of destruction. To compound—

“It’s okay, Abel, it’ll be okay.”

As Vincent clenched his jaw, Medium continued smiling warmly at him.

Just baseless hope, an emotional argument he detested most during discussions. It was the very thing Vincent loathed from the depths of his heart.

— How many times had he been saved by such abhorrent emotional arguments ever since being ousted from the throne?

“—What do you think, Sir? My little sister is pretty great, wouldn’t you say?”

That was when he heard it.

The reason for Vincent’s silence was pierced through by someone endeavoring to empathize as if they had faced the same experience.

△▼△▼△▼△

Ultimately, Balroi Temegurif self-mockingly declared that he was mediocre at everything.

He served the Empire even while alive and rebelled against it.

And even in death, he defied the Empire, and in the end—

“Serving the Empire isn’t my style, you know.”

Balroi let escape those words as he realized an open wound in his chest—the mark of defeat by the magic bullet from the worst magician.

— Balroi’s fight, imbued with his wish, ended in utter defeat against an enemy willing to choose any means necessary.

The magician in question had said, “It could have gone either way, and he would have won,” but that was nothing more than a comforting lie.

Most likely, Balroi would lose a hundred times against that man. That was simply how mismatched they were.

He could become tirelessly cold to achieve a single goal.

At the end of the day, even though he was revived due to unfulfilled regret and unfinished business, the moment he failed to uphold it, Balroi could not measure up against the bloodless opponent that was the Undead.

Leaving Medium behind, he could not abandon his younger sister, knowing full well she’d fall to her death. That made Balroi weak, and that was the reason he lost, completely.

“No, it’s because Bal Bro’s small-hearted.”

Medium didn’t accept the reason for his self-fulfilling death.

Medium, who refers to weakness and leniency as kindness, was still that same pure-hearted girl with her sunny smile even if she had grown taller.

Yes, she was his little sister. Balroi was truly blessed with meeting her.

Serena, Flopp, Medium, Madelin—they all were.

Not to mention his partner Karyon, and all the soldiers of the Empire who stood alongside Balroi as the “General,” as well as the “Nine Divine Generals.”

Yet still, despite being grateful for all those meetings, he could not let them go.

That—

“Even so, Bal Bro couldn’t help it.”

Balroi was taken aback by Medium’s tearful smile.

The girl he thought had not changed at all since they first met had indeed matured, evolving from a girl into a woman. Now she could even smile with such a difference.

Only he had remained stagnant, treading water exactly in the same place forever.

“…The ‘Witch’ can only revive those who died within the Empire. The only way to lift that restriction is to destroy the Empire and afterward expand the territory to kingdoms or city-states. Only then—”

“—Can I meet Miles bro?”

“—”

“I know. Because I’ve been watching Bal Bro all this time.”

In her words, Balroi received two poignant feelings.

One was the self-deprecation from having his heart laid bare, and the other a tinge of jealousy. He understood the meaning behind the first smile Medium displayed.

“Medium, is there someone you’re in love with?”

“Huh!? N-no way? …Probably.”

“The first person who comes to mind when you close your eyes and smile is the one, right?”

“That’s the big bro! Plus, Abel doesn’t smile at all… Ah.”

Hand over her mouth, Medium’s cheeks flushed. Balroi couldn’t help but laugh at that reaction he had never seen from his little sister. He laughed and slowly raised his body.

Balroi was truly mediocre, down to the bone.

If he could just sever every connection as that magician had done, perhaps he could become someone different.

“I’d never want to be that heartless, though.”

He just couldn’t do that.

He’d never be able to change who he had always been.

Thus, he could say this much.

“Well then, I’ll go save that boy Medium admires.”

“I don’t even know that yet!”

Medium blushed, asserting with a face unlike that of her childhood self or a teenager; it lacked any convincing power.

If he were to bring that kind of look on Medium’s face and still make her sad, Balroi would personally kill that person with his own hands. With such self-centered thoughts, he resolved.

“—Eh!?”

Balroi’s selfish older brother mindset elicited an exuberant whinny from Karyon, who matched Balroi’s spirit.

△▼△▼△▼△

—The moment that happened, every living soul, whether dead or alive, in the Imperial Capital tilted their heads to the sky.

No one could explain why that was.

There would be plenty of explanations available for reasons why one tilted their head up. Those with keen senses could feel the strong wave of mana; those with keen ears could hear the loud call of the Flying Dragon. Some were facing the source of the recently unleashed magical cannon, or those who were headed straight towards the castle.

However, while each person could explain their own reasons for looking upward, nobody could account for everyone’s reasoning.

The only entity capable of doing so was the star role who determined the rules of this world. To him, it would be simply and evidently clear—

“—Of course, it’s someone’s climax!”

He would declare it loudly, with a bright smile.

And in the Volakia Empire, no one could challenge his word.

It was due to his prowess, and the only reason anyone could oppose him would become a spectator of the reasons why they were looking up.

—Gradually, a bright, radiant green light sliced through the sky directly above the Crystal Palace.

As it drew nearer, it seemed to gather the entirety of the clouds existing in the Imperial Capital, diving into a massive ocean of clouds—and then—

“—”

—In an instant, it was as if the sky itself blinked, and the world shone dazzlingly bright.