Sigh—I Seriously Don't Want to Stand Out

CID

"I’d really rather not stand out, you know..."

Maximilian let his gaze drift slowly across the scene. He took it all in: Clara pinned by Guin, Bart face-down in the dirt, and the edge of a knife currently tickling his own throat.

"You’re awfully acting smug for a guy whose life is in my hands," Zack growled.

"Heh... I suppose it looks that way to you. Not that I particularly care one way or the other."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"I was just debating exactly how much effort I should actually put in right now," Maximilian said, sounding way too casual. "To be honest, I was hoping to finish my set as a mere petty villain. Keep it low-key, you know?"

"You wanted to end as a mere petty villain...?" Zack’s eyes went wide as the gears turned. "Don't tell me... the 'malice' lurking behind both factions... is that what this is about?"

Zack shot a sideways glance at the black-haired boy—me—collapsed in the corner of the courtyard.

"Oh? Zack, I didn't think you were sharp enough to notice... What a shame."

"A shame?"

"Yeah. A real shame... Now I have to kill everyone."

"—What!?"

In a blink, Maximilian vanished. Zack’s knife sliced through nothing but thin air as his target pulled a disappearing act.

A second later, the white snow kicked up, and flowers of blood bloomed across the courtyard.

"Gah...!"

Bodies started hitting the floor, staining the pure white ground a deep, messy red.

Maximilian just stood there in the center of the carnage, wearing one of those twisted, edgy smiles villains always seem to practice in the mirror. He flicked the blood off his blade with a nonchalant toss.

"Y-You... why would you kill your own people?" Clara stammered, her voice shaking with pure shock.

And she was right—Maximilian had just slaughtered the guards and the Doem Faction prisoners alike.

"Why? Because they were close by and their guards were down," he said with a shrug, like he was explaining the weather. "I'm going to kill everyone besides you anyway. Does the order really matter?"

"Wh-what are you saying?! That wasn't the deal—!"

"—And that goes for you too."

Guin’s head went flying.

A spray of lukewarm blood rained down on Clara, and the sword that had been at her throat clattered into the slush. Guin’s headless corpse followed a moment later, toppling backward in slow motion.

"N-no... Guin..."

Clara slumped onto her backside, scrambling away in the snow. The whole stalemate had been flipped on its head in a heartbeat. Prisoners, guards, the guys who had been at each other's throats just seconds ago... they were all being discarded like they didn't even matter.

This one guy had just decided the entire game was over.

"W-Who... what on earth are you?"

"Me?" Maximilian sneered down at her. "I'm just a filthy prisoner, a former bandit. Just your average, everyday ordinary prisoner. You can find 'em anywhere."

"N-no... you’re not... you're nothing like that..."

"Heh heh heh... and what exactly is the difference?"

"D-damn it... Lady Clara, run!!"

Zack scrambled to his feet and snatched up the sword Guin had dropped. He lunged at Maximilian with everything he had left.

"I was planning on saving you for last," Maximilian noted.

Zack’s sword cut through empty air as Maximilian’s form blurred.

Thwack.

"Gah!!"

Zack was sent flying, blood erupting from a fresh wound on his back.

"Z-Zack—!!"

Clara’s scream echoed through the courtyard as Zack writhed in the snow, trying to keep himself together.

"I'll kill you last. For now, just lie there and enjoy the show. Watch your friends get slaughtered and feel the Royalist Faction’s hopes die with them..."

The remaining Royalists stepped forward, trying to form a human shield for Clara.

"L-Lady Clara, please... just run..."

But their swords were vibrating like tuning forks. They knew the score—there was zero chance of surviving against a monster like Maximilian.

"Now then... I think I'll take my time killing you lot one by one. Come out already, Owl! If you show your face now, I might keep the body count down. Assuming you can actually beat me, that is..."

Maximilian’s eyes crawled over the survivors, one by one. Clara was trembling, desperately trying to put some distance between herself and the madman.

And then there was Zack.

Bleeding out from his back, he was dragging himself through the snow. He was focused on a single point with a terrifying level of intensity.

He was looking at the black-haired boy—me—lying in the corner.

"...P-please..."

Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth as his trembling fingers clawed at the snow.

"Please... you're the only one... you're all we've got left..."

The boy’s body was already half-buried under the falling flakes.

"I don't care who you are... or what you're after... just please, lend us your strength..."

Zack finally reached the boy’s side.

"I beg of you... save Lady Clara..."

With a blood-stained hand, he brushed the snow off the boy’s body.

—Except.

"Wait... what?"

What he found wasn't a boy at all. It was a black slime mass shaped like one.

In that split second, an absolute mountain of magic power slammed into the atmosphere, making the very air scream.