"Hmph! Anze is such a meanie. She acts like she’s fine with being last, but I know all the Saints are secretly gunning for Wolka. Just because she became his patron, she thinks she can act all high and mighty. I absolutely will not forgive her!"
"N-now, it’s really not like that..."
"Come along, Master. Let’s keep moving."
"Meanie, meanie, meanie!"
Pulling along a pouting Liesel, Yulitia led the group through one of the many corridors of Alnas Tower.
According to Anze, they were currently on a floor located roughly in the middle of the tower’s height. Yulitia was secretly relieved there were no windows. Since this tower was far taller than any other building in the Holy City, even the halfway point had to be at a staggering altitude. She briefly imagined what it would be like if there were a massive window offering a view of the ground below—her spine went cold at the thought, and she quickly forced the image from her mind.
"I apologize most profoundly. It was due to this old man’s lack of clarity..."
"You did say it! You said Wolka was going to the Holy Sanctum!"
As Liesel’s sour mood showed no signs of lifting, the old butler Weinrich’s apologies only grew more frequent. For the overprotective Master, being separated from Wolka the moment they teleported was a crisis of the highest order. It was only because they were within the absolute safety of the Cathedral that she was settling for merely sulking and throwing a tantrum.
If Alnas Tower hadn’t been a sanctuary but a dangerous dungeon teeming with monsters, neither Liesel, Yulitia, nor Atri would have been able to keep their composure.
As for where they were being led now...
"Hey, who are we supposed to fight? Are they strong?"
They hadn't been told to simply sit and wait over tea until Wolka returned. As Atri asked, today, ‘special’ training partners had been arranged for Yulitia and the others as well.
Anze nodded as she walked ahead of them.
"Yes. I believe they are opponents that even Atri-sama of the Arsvalem Tribe will find satisfactory."
"Hmm..."
"However, the Knight Corps is currently occupied with various emergencies... I apologize, but we will likely only have about an hour of their time."
That made sense, Yulitia thought. Between searching for survivors in Luther and strengthening the defenses of other cities, the situation was likely far beyond anything a thirteen-year-old like her could imagine.
Vampires.
"..."
To be honest, Yulitia still didn't fully grasp what was happening to the country. While the information was in her head, she hadn't processed it as reality. In history books, she had read about entire towns being wiped out by monsters, but it had always felt like a myth.
The idea that the people of Luther who had once been so kind to her might all be dead... it felt impossible. It was too surreal, like a story from a distant land. Unconsciously, she averted her eyes from the truth, trying to convince herself it was all a mistake.
—But Wolka was different.
Of all of them, Wolka alone stared at the undeniable reality without flinching. He understood that the people of Luther had been slaughtered, and that understanding cut into his very gut with agonizing pain.
No—it was that he couldn't look away. He had no choice but to face it.
The way he sank into despair without a single word of anger made it seem as though he were reliving a past suffering.
The way he swung his sword until he could no longer stand from the pain was as if he were trying to strike down the phantoms of his own past.
Wolka had undoubtedly witnessed the moment many lives were stolen away in this world.
That was the source of the despair and hatred gnawing at his heart. It was the reason he would stake his life without a moment's hesitation for someone crying before him.
Wolka didn't hold some noble ambition of protecting the world.
He was simply gritting his teeth, struggling through his own wounds, desperate to ensure he never had to see it happen again.
Because she understood this, Yulitia and the others were filled with a desperate resolve—
"We have arrived."
They had reached their destination. Waiting beyond the door Weinrich opened was a woman.
"—Hmph, so you’ve come."
She stood with her back to them, her thick blonde hair fluttering powerfully. Her presence was as dignified and intense as a flame.
It took a few seconds for Yulitia to place the face.
"Um, if I recall... you’re Bell-san?"
"Oh, I’m honored you remembered me, Lady Yulitia."
It was the female knight who had introduced herself as Rosche’s superior back when Wolka was hospitalized. Weinrich checked his silver pocket watch.
"You are early."
"Yeah. My subordinates were being so noisy, begging me to help with this and that. It was a chore, so I just made a quick escape."
It sounded like she had simply abandoned her subordinates in the middle of a crisis, but strangely, she didn't seem selfish or cold at all. On the contrary, she radiated the aura of a powerful warrior who stood firm in her own convictions, unswayed by the chaos around her.
Yulitia had felt it during their first meeting, too.
(Wow... she’s so cool and beautiful. I want to be an adult like that...)
She was tall, dignified, and charismatic, yet she didn't feel oppressive. Just standing in front of her, Yulitia felt a sense of security, as if she were protected by a gentle warmth. From her posture to her gaze, everything about the woman was the embodiment of the ideal adult Yulitia envisioned.
The training room itself was strangely plain. There was almost no furniture, and its purpose was unclear. It didn't look like a reception room, and it was certainly too small for a training hall. A few swings of Atri’s halberd would leave the place in ruins.
"Thank you for meeting us today, especially given how busy things are."
"I don't mind. When my subordinates are my opponents, they’re usually too busy shivering in their boots to give me a proper challenge."
Bell bowed slightly to Anze and then turned her piercing, dignified smile toward the group.
"A half-human mage, the successor of the Quick-draw Technique, and—the Arsvalem Tribe."
The moment she spoke the name of the warrior race, a touch of nostalgia entered her eyes.
"How nostalgic... About forty years ago, I fought a female warrior from that same tribe."
"...Is that so?"
Atri was genuinely surprised. While many Arsvalem left their homes to wander, they were a small minority, and opportunities to hear of their kin’s exploits were rare. This was the first time Yulitia had heard of another Arsvalem besides Atri.
"Do you remember her name?"
"Yes. She was a strong, noble heroine. Her name was Kirisha."
"...!?"
Atri’s reaction was more than just a little surprise. Her eyes went wide as she stepped forward.
"You fought Granny!?"
"Granny?"
That was the nickname for the current chief of the Arsvalem Tribe, the woman who had taught Atri everything she knew. She was also the one responsible for planting weird ideas in Atri’s head about stripping people to "check their resolve"—but that was a separate issue.
Since Atri always called her "Granny," this was the first time Yulitia had heard the name Kirisha.
"She’s our chief. She’s a granny now, so she just takes it easy back home, but..."
"I see—hahaha, is that so! To think she’s leading the tribe now... back then, she was a lady who looked best standing atop a mountain of monster corpses."
Bell didn't look like she was lying. Atri pressed further.
"...When you fought, who won?"
"I did."
Silence fell.
"That’s what I’d like to say, at least. But the truth is, after fighting for an entire day, we couldn't settle it. The surrounding terrain was so utterly ruined that we decided we couldn't keep going, so we had no choice but to settle it with rock-paper-scissors."
Rock-paper-scissors.
"And that’s how I won. Of course, I don’t believe for a second that I truly defeated Lady Kirisha."
"...You really did fight her."
Then, Yulitia tilted her head in confusion. Didn't this woman just say she fought Granny forty years ago? No matter how you looked at her, she seemed to be in her mid-twenties. Guessing she was thirty would have felt like an insult.
Liesel was wondering the same thing.
"Forty years ago? Don't tell me you..."
"Yes, I’m a half-human, just like you. Despite appearances, I’m about the same age as Lord Weinrich over there."
In other words, despite her youthful looks, she was in her sixties. Forty years ago, she would have looked exactly like the young woman she appeared to be now.
"A half-human like me, younger than me... yet bigger than me... her height, her chest, everything..."
Liesel, having suffered a total defeat in the "aging gracefully" department, began to drift toward the dark side.
However, even the black aura rising from Liesel’s back couldn't break Bell’s bright smile.
"Now then, let’s get started. Anze."
"Yes."
Anze moved to the center of the room and clasped her hands in prayer. A pure white magical power began to fill the small room. Just as Yulitia was wondering what was about to happen—
The space itself was rewritten.
"““...!?””"
Yulitia and the others gasped. A ripple, like a puzzle being rearranged, spread out in a hemisphere. The small, simple room transformed into a completely different environment. The walls vanished, pushed back as if by phantoms of mist, revealing a floor so expansive it was impossible to believe they were still inside the tower.
Naturally, Liesel was the first to cry out.
"Space magic...!"
This was a level of magic even higher than the teleportation they had experienced—the ability to interfere with space itself to create places that shouldn't exist. It was considered the highest class of magic a human could wield. Aside from exceptions like storage magic, it was said that dozens of first-class mages would have to work for months to construct such a massive spell.
But even with magic, there was a limit to how much a room could be expanded. This wasn't just wide; it was so vast it couldn't even be called a "room" anymore. The space before them clearly exceeded the original footprint of the tower itself.
"Anze... what was that magic? Was it Holy Magic?"
Liesel’s expression was one of doubt rather than astonishment. It was proof that Anze had just used magic that defied all logic. Anze, however, looked just as confused.
"Um... yes, I believe so...?"
"What do you mean? Do you not even know yourself?"
"This place has existed since long before Anze or I were born," Bell answered for her. She spoke with her usual unwavering tone. "It is a training space for successive generations of Saints and Holy Knights to practice magic they cannot use in public. It seems to be activated using the Saint’s magical power as a key, a secret technique of the Church. The only one who likely knows the full details is Lady Arcasiel."
Anze nodded firmly.
"I have only been taught the activation method. I was told that long ago, someone with ties to the Church collaborated to create it..."
"But... even so..."
Liesel fell into deep thought, looking troubled. While Yulitia was simply overwhelmed by how amazing it was, the Great Mage, who had worked as a scholar at the Magisterica, clearly sensed something wrong about this space magic.
However, the pleasant atmosphere ended there.
"Well, just think of it as a miracle from God. I’m sorry, but I have a mission in two hours."
Bell removed her white fur-lined cloak and tossed it toward Anze. She bared a fiercely competitive smile.
"—I was told you would be accompanying me for my warm-up."
The air trembled.
It was a total reflex. In that instant, Yulitia, Liesel, and Atri all readied their weapons, their bodies entering a state of high tension.
It was merely a light release of fighting spirit as a declaration of intent to spar.
But even that was enough for Yulitia to feel as if countless glittering sparks were racing through every corner of the room. It was like witnessing the moment just before flames consumed heaven and earth. The intense heat made her skin tingle, and she felt an overwhelming torrent of power that made beads of sweat break out all over her body.
Finally, she understood just how legendary an expert the woman who had taught Rosche truly was.
And there was one more knight in the room.
"Since the intensity of the training would be dispersed among only three people, I shall assist as well."
The old butler, Weinrich.
Amidst the fighting spirit that made the air scream, he bowed with a grace that hadn't changed a bit. He was the complete opposite of Bell. If Bell was a flame burning high into the heavens, this old man was like the surface of a vast, silent lake. And yet, it was unthinkable that he was any less formidable than Bell simply because of his age.
Because if you peered beneath that lake’s surface, there was only a dark, fathomless abyss.
"Come at us with everything you have. Anze will heal any injuries immediately."
Bell let a touch of kindness seep into her burning eyes.
"This is just my personal estimation... but I believe Lord Wolka will take several steps further after today. If you wish to remain by his side, you cannot afford to hold anything back."
Bell’s deduction was likely correct. Wolka, who was facing his sword with his whole soul today, would almost certainly cast aside all doubt and determine the path he must take. He would solidify his resolve to continue forward, no matter the cost.
That was why Yulitia and the others also had to move forward.
She was afraid. The thought that moving forward might once again put Wolka’s life in danger made her body tremble, and tears felt ready to spill. She really wanted to tell him—You don't have to push yourself anymore. You can rest. We’ll fight in your place.
But she knew those words would provide him no comfort.
Simply clinging to his back and shedding tears would never be enough to save him.
She gripped her sword tighter and took her stance.
"I’m coming... with everything I have!"
"Yes. Come."
Amidst the heat that felt like it would scorch their skin, the two knights announced themselves.
"Allow me to introduce myself once more. I am Bellflare—Holy Knight Bellflare."
"With all due respect, I as well. Holy Knight Weinrich, I shall be your opponent."
There is only one simple, clear method to cast aside doubt.
It is to place oneself in an extreme situation where there isn't a single second to spend thinking.
When Dia finished her errands and visited the innermost bedroom, she found Wolka and Alka sleeping side by side on the same bed. Since they weren't in the living room, she had pretty much expected this.
"Ah, I figured it would turn out like this."
Dia gave a wry smile. In sending Wolka to Alka’s bedroom, Dia had predicted two different scenarios.
One: even Alka would be too embarrassed to let a man into her bedroom and would hurriedly move to the living room.
Two: she wouldn't care at all about being alone with a man in her bedroom and would proceed as usual with her sleepy face.
She had thought the former would be amusing, but unfortunately, she was wrong. The Church’s number-one lazy princess was operating as usual, relaxed and taking it easy even now.
"Hey, Alka—"
"Mmm... what is it..."
As Dia approached the bed and shook her shoulder, Alka lifted her heavy eyelids very reluctantly. Dia pointed to Wolka.
"How is Lord Wolka doing?"
"I don't know... I’m just letting him do as he likes."
"Eh, what a waste. Hey, let me into the dream for a bit too..."
When she tried asking, she was met with a rather chilly gaze.
"Listen... even Anze is holding back because she wants to let this person concentrate. Aren't you ashamed to face that girl?"
"Ugh... b-but I’m curious. I want to know how strong Lord Wolka is when he’s serious..."
"No. I’m already tired today."
Alka rolled over sluggishly, turning her back to Dia. Dia puffed out her cheeks. She had really wanted to see the battle between Wolka and Rosche.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she looked at the clock. Nearly two hours had passed since Wolka arrived.
"Two hours, huh... for those two, it probably feels like no time has passed at all. I wonder if they’ll keep fighting until tonight."
"Actually, more than half a day has passed over there."
"Huh?" Dia looked down at her. Alka remained with her back turned.
"Like I said, more than half a day has already passed over there. It’s a dream... there’s no need to make time flow the same as in reality, right?"
"Oh, so that’s how it is... Eh? Then those two have been fighting for over half a day?"
"I don't know if it’s been continuous... but they’ve hardly rested."
"Sword... idiots..."
Dia was exasperated. She had heard about Wolka’s obsession, but she hadn't expected it to be this much. Even in a dream, where would you find an ordinary person who could fight a serious Holy Knight for over half a day?
Alka waved her palm as if to shoo Dia away.
"They’ll probably be fighting for a while longer... look, I’m going to rest a bit more, so—"
Suddenly, Alka gasped.
"Ngh."
"Eh?"
Alka’s body twitched, and she let out a strange, almost scandalous sound. Dia was surprised, and Alka herself seemed shocked. She sat up with a nimbleness unusual for her.
"Wait a minute."
She peered at Wolka. Her hair, scattered across the bed, took on a faint glow. An incomprehensible emotion rapidly spread across her face.
"Wait... what is that man doing?"
"A-Alka?"
It was a rare tone of agitation.
"What is this? How is he even—Ngh, mmm!"
"Alka, Alka!"
"Wait, stop...! No way, that man... he’s cutting my dream!"
"Hey!"
"Wait—then the one who cut down the Life Reaper was actually—"
Dia didn't understand a thing, but it was clear Wolka was doing something even Alka hadn't anticipated.
"Oh, honestly!"
Strength left Alka’s body as she collapsed back onto the bed, re-entering the dream world.
And then, Alka saw it.
Golden Light Bursts and silver lightning. Two lights charged at each other freely, undeterred as they constantly flashed, parried, exploded, and cleaved through a world that could no longer maintain its form.
That back, facing a serious Holy Knight with an unsealed Holy Sword, wielding nothing but a plain, ordinary blade.
Complete Self-Nullification.
She saw the shimmer of a white soul, one so intense it felt as if it would burn the hearts of those who watched.
Wolka sat bolt upright.
"Kyaaaaaah!"
As he did, he heard an absurd scream and a dull thud, like someone falling out of a chair.
"! ...Wait, what?"
He leaned forward, looking around. He was in a bedroom, on a bed. He froze, unable to immediately process the situation.
"That hurt..."
He looked to the side, then down. Dia was rubbing her side with teary eyes after falling from the bed.
"Dia, are you okay?"
When he called out to her, Dia hurriedly scrambled to her feet.
"Don't just jump up like that! W-we almost bumped heads! You idiot!"
"O-oh... I-I’m sorry?"
He tried to piece things together. He should have been fighting Rosche in a dream, but for some reason, he had returned to the real world. This was Arcasiel’s bedroom, and Arcasiel herself was right next to him.
"Arcasiel?"
"What?"
Something was off.
"Um... are you okay?"
Her breathing was labored, and her face looked slightly flushed.
"It’s nothing."
"But..."
"I said it’s nothing."
"..."
"I said it’s nothing, didn't I?"
After receiving that sharp triple-rebuttal, she glared at him with a cold look that said keep talking and you’re dead. He had no idea what had happened, but it was clear his time in the dream was over. He let out a sigh of frustration. The match hadn't been settled yet.
Dia sat on the edge of the bed.
"I’ve never seen anyone wake up from Alka’s dream on their own before. What were you doing?"
"No, it’s not like I woke up because I wanted to..."
He hadn't done anything strange; he had just been fighting recklessly. It was likely Rosche’s fault. That sword of his, creating those absurd Light Bursts along the path of its swings—no wonder the Church restricted its use. If you swing a weapon that’s practically cheating like that, it’s only natural the dream world would collapse.
"I see... hey, Alka, could you try again, or..."
"No."
It was an immediate response. Arcasiel turned away curtly.
"No way. I told you I’m already tired today."
"Ah—sorry, Lord Wolka. Alka really has no stamina," Dia said.
Yeah... he thought so. This was only the second time he’d met her, but she was always lounging on a flying cushion or a bed. He hadn't even seen her walking. She was undoubtedly the ultimate indoor girl.
"...Phew. If you do this to me many more times, I’ll end up becoming strange..."
"Huh? Sorry, Alka, one more time?"
"It’s nothing."
Dia looked at him. He hadn't caught that either. Though he suspected she had said something like "I can't keep up with this anymore."
"It’s okay. Thank you for doing this, especially when things are so busy."
In a situation where the Holy City might be attacked at any moment, he had no intention of asking her for more time. While it was a bit regrettable the match wasn't settled, he had achieved his goal of swinging his sword to his heart’s content and cutting through his unnecessary emotions.
"—"
He stared at his right hand. He remembered that sensation—the feeling of all obstacles being removed, where his sword and consciousness became one. It was a silent, pure white world where his entire being naturally leaned into the blade as easily as drawing a breath.
Was this what people called "Clear Mirror, Still Water" or "State of No-mind"?
"H-hey, Lord Wolka."
"Hmm?"
Dia was fidgeting restlessly, her eyes darting around.
"I think it’s better if you don't show that feeling in front of people too much! Your aura is... overwhelming. It’s hard to breathe..."
That wasn't good. Overwhelming and hard to breathe meant he was being intimidating. His appearance was already rough enough with the eyepatch; if his atmosphere ended up like Ramsey’s, it would be a disaster. If Yulitia or Luerie got scared of him, he would shut himself in his room and never come out.
"I understand. I’ll be careful."
But looking at it another way, it meant he had properly integrated the training.
Yes... it was fine. He had steeled his resolve.
"Man, I wonder if Anze will be okay. If she faces this head-on, she might not even be able to stand..."
"I don't know... it’s not my fault."
He felt a little hurt by their whispering. Men are sensitive about that kind of stuff!
He tried to meet up with his Master and the others, but they had already finished their training and headed toward the wards. They were apparently borrowing a shower to clean up after working up a sweat.
After leaving Alnas Tower, he looked up at the sky in the Cathedral’s courtyard. When he had left the inn this morning, his head was filled with noise. Now, he felt a silent, clear focus.
No matter how much he agonized, all he could do was swing his sword.
Whether it was about the Original Work or the future, none of it mattered. Even if the world had diverged from the script, so what? Knowing that didn't give him the power to predict the future or change the past. He had told Ramsey he would move his own feet to protect what mattered.
No one gets stronger just by worrying. No one moves forward through wishful thinking. He needed to kick away every emotion tangling his feet and throw them into the fire.
He thought of Glenn. They were similar. They didn't have convenient powers to overturn a shitty reality. All they could do was swing their swords. Even if changing one fate distorted another, they just had to grit their teeth and struggle with all their might until the very end.
It was a simple thing, really.
He felt like he could talk to Glenn now. He wanted to thank him properly someday. As he started walking, he felt a sudden, cold presence.
"!"
He turned around. To the east. It wasn't exactly murderous intent, but it was a gaze that felt malicious, like someone giggling while tracing a finger along his throat.
It was only for an instant. By the time he focused his senses, the coldness had vanished, replaced by the warmth of the sun. He couldn't see anyone; there were only Sisters and townspeople going about their business.
"...?"
Was it just his imagination? Maybe his senses were still too sharp from the dream.
"Ah, it’s Wolka-san! Hey, Wolka-saaan!"
He heard Shially’s voice. This wasn't his imagination. The two sisters were jogging over from the direction of the wards. Shially was waving with a beaming smile, while Luerie looked a little embarrassed.
Seeing them so energetic, he pushed the strange gaze from his mind. It hadn't felt like a monster or direct malice, so it would be fine—or so he thought.
"Hello, you two. Actually, Master and the others are..."
Later, he would realize how meaningless it was to worry about the plot of the Original Work. Turning around because of that strange presence was the one act that would change the story yet again.
"Amazing, amazing! To think he’d notice my gaze from this distance! I’m so surprised!"
The identity of the gaze Wolka felt was the Vampire Nastassja.
She was at a tourist observatory near the boundary between the Holy Court District and the Fertility District. From this hill, she could see the entire Holy Court District.
There was a trick to how a Vampire like her could infiltrate the Holy City. A small ring on her left hand nullified her presence and made her appear human. As long as she used magic to hide the color of her eyes and her pointed ears, she could walk among humans undetected.
It was no ordinary ring. It was a unique item created by "Uncle Stra," the current King of the Vampires, who had sealed his own power into it for her.
She was alone at the observatory, bouncing her umbrella and spinning around in excitement.
"He didn't see me... of course, at this distance. And yet, fufufu, I wonder how he noticed me!"
It was no wonder Wolka hadn't been able to find her. It wasn't that she was using sophisticated concealment; it was simply that she was too far away for ordinary eyes. From here, the entire Cathedral grounds could fit into the palm of a hand.
She had observed over a hundred knights and adventurers from this spot. Since entering the city, she had sized up over a thousand humans.
And she had finally found him.
"Ah, just thinking about it gives me the shivers... to experience such an image!"
She hadn't expected much at first. An eyepatch and a prosthetic leg were usually the signs of a broken warrior. She had assumed he was a man whose soul had drained away because he could no longer fight.
But the moment their eyes met, that perception was shattered.
Wolka hadn't actually seen her. Their gazes had merely crossed by chance. And yet, Nastassja had clearly seen a vision—a single blade housed in a shrine deep in a sacred forest.
It was a Resonance Phenomenon, where an opponent’s strength manifested as a visual image. With an opponent of his caliber, a chance moment could trigger such a vision.
It was a completely different world. She could smell the greenery and feel the dew on the moss. In the center of a lush forest stood an old shrine, decorated with a rope and jagged paper streamers.
The sword was simple. It was a single-edged blade with a gentle curve, lacking any glittering decorations. It looked like it might snap if struck against a rock.
But it was beautiful. It was a silent, white tranquility that had stripped away everything unnecessary for the act of cutting. Nastassja had been struck to the core by that pure radiance.
She nodded.
"Yes, I’ve decided. It’s him!"
The eyepatch and leg didn't matter. He wasn't a broken man. She was certain she had come to this country just to meet him.
She wanted to fight that sword. She wanted to cut him, be cut by him, and exchange blood in a dance of lethal intimacy.
"Wait for me. When the time comes, I’ll come to you."
She wanted to go to him right now, but there were too many interlopers in the city. If she caused a scene, knights and Saints would intervene, and she wanted their "date" to be uninterrupted.
Besides, she didn't want to incur her father’s wrath just yet. She would wait for the perfect stage. She wouldn't use boring schemes like her father did. When the time was right, she would tell him her feelings directly.
She smiled as she watched him.
"So when that time comes, let’s kill each other as much as we can, okay?"
Everyone believed the calamity would come from the outside. The Chrys Knights were strengthening the walls based on that premise, and refugees were rushing into the city for safety. They believed that once they were inside, the disaster would stay away.
The knights worked tirelessly, but in such a vast city, gaps were inevitable. Nastassja wasn't the only one who had entered unnoticed.
About a week since the destruction of Luther. Just as people were beginning to hope that perhaps the enemy had left.
The calamity broke out from within the Holy City.