When viewed from high above, the activation of teleportation magic fueled by human lives resembled a blooming flower of crimson lightning. An ominous red light radiated from the magic circles that served as its source, encroaching upon the surroundings in a manner reminiscent of blood slowly oozing from the city itself.
Amidst the people standing paralyzed, unable to comprehend the situation, one man quietly looked down upon the blooming crimson from the heavens.
"—Mm. A fine light."
Oscarrain of the Crimson War.
Standing in the sky where the sprawling Holy City was captured in its entirety within his sight, he smiled as though standing upon invisible ground. The space around him was concealed beneath multiple layers of magic, ensuring that neither the citizens of the Holy City nor even the birds that had just flown past noticed his presence.
The teleportation spells activated in five locations—the west, southwest, south, southeast, and east—encircling the Holy Court District, were all orchestrated by Oscarrain.
How had he done it?
The Holy City was a walled fortress city, protected by massive commercial ports on its northern ocean-facing side and sturdy ramparts guarding the three landward approaches.
Ever since the appearance of the Vampires, the Chrys Knights had maintained a strict, round-the-clock state of high alert. Entering the city required an exhaustive physical examination—including the dispelling of mental contamination via magic tools—and city patrols were heavily bolstered due to the influx of refugees. Furthermore, a detection barrier spanned the skies to catch intruders; anyone boasting that "it is impossible for monsters to slip into the city undetected" would hardly have been exaggerating.
Yet, Oscarrain had effortlessly bypassed that security net and planted the teleportation spells throughout the city.
No, to be precise, he had not breached it at all. From his arrival in this land until the present moment, Oscarrain had not set a single foot inside the Holy City.
Planting spell formulas inside the Holy City remotely while remaining outside—the answer that made this possible was the two female knights stopped by Frixell and her party.
"Magnificent, Your Excellency."
From behind Oscarrain's left side came a polite word of praise touched with a hint of age. Without turning around, Oscarrain replied:
"No, three locations failed. Well, I suppose this much was to be expected."
"They were ignorant, foolish humans; it could not be helped. Rather, it is solely due to Your Excellency's prowess that five locations succeeded."
This time, a slightly younger voice answered from behind his right side. The words were laced with blatant, undisguised reverence for the man before him and sheer disdain for humans.
—Use humans dominated by Charm magic to construct the spell formulas in his stead.
That was the method Oscarrain had employed. The voice on the left spoke deferentially:
"Entering the dreams of humans and turning them into puppets through those dreams... Truly a feat only Your Excellency could accomplish."
The Holy City had been thoroughly wary of the possibility that charmed individuals might be slipped in among the refugees. That was precisely why they used mental-purification magic tools under the guise of physical inspections for those passing through the fortress gates.
However, that countermeasure was utterly useless against humans charmed after entering the Holy City.
For Oscarrain, it was enough to simply pick out suitable targets among the knights and refugees heading for the Holy City, taking advantage of the night to carry out his "preparations." If it was only a few seconds of memory limited to that specific moment, erasing or rewriting it with magic was hardly a difficult task. In just a few seconds and with minimal effort, the marking required to invade their mental realm was complete.
Once that was done, it mattered not how thick the fortress walls or defensive barriers were.
"Though compared to direct control, the efficacy drops considerably. They cannot perform particularly complex tasks. That is why I had them use their lives, but..."
Even for a Vampire, teleportation magic was not a spell to be handled lightly. Even if one placed uneducated humans with no knowledge of magic under control, the formulas they could construct were limited at best.
Hence, the "sacrifices." A forbidden method to explosively obtain maximum output with minimal formulaic complexity.
Two, or perhaps three people per magic circle. The fact that five locations succeeded meant:
"If I had wished for absolute certainty, at least four per circle would have been required. It seems I slightly overestimated the value of a human life."
The voice on the left chuckled darkly.
"To offer their trash-like lives to Your Excellency is surely a blessing for them."
"Things not going entirely as planned is part of the amusement of war as well."
Then, Oscarrain turned his gaze toward a certain corner of the Holy City, feeling a slight disappointment. It was the location where the activation of the teleportation magic had just been thwarted thanks to the efforts of Frixell and her party.
"Still, it is somewhat regrettable that that location misfired... I had intended to send in the most powerful specimen, but it seems someone stopped it at the eleventh hour."
"...Pardon my intrusion, but..."
The voice on the right took on a tone of deep suspicion.
"Could it perhaps be the young lady? Possessing that ring, it would not be strange in the slightest for the young lady to have slipped into the Holy City."
The "young lady" he referred to was Nastassja. While the deduction that she had interfered was incorrect, the assumption that she had already entered the Holy City was right on the mark.
Oscarrain furrowed his brows in displeasure.
"Ah... that detestable ring from the Usurper King. Failing to confiscate that was a blunder on my part."
A ring that neutralized demonic presence and magical power, disguising the wearer as a mere human—feeling annoyed by the gift the current king of the Vampires had bestowed upon her, he said:
"However, it would not be my daughter. I warned her, after all... If she pulls foolish stunts before me, I shall never grant her freedom again."
"Oh, how terrifying... I wonder what sort of 'discipline' you have in mind."
The one on the right snickered eerily. Waiting for the laughter to subside, the one on the left asked:
"Still, was this timing truly ideal? Were it the dead of night, the humans' activity would also..."
The current time was just past noon, early in the afternoon. It was the period when human activity peaked around midday and maintained a high level of bustle toward dusk. When humans heard of the emergence of Vampires, night was the first thing they guarded against, so striking now was effective in terms of exploiting that preconceived notion. Even so, it was undoubtedly the moment when the Holy City's military strength was at its most prepared.
If one were to assault the Holy City, choosing the night according to theory should have been far more advantageous. Oscarrain answered smoothly regarding his reason for deliberately stepping onto the humans' stage.
"My objective is not the destruction of the Holy City, you see. I am merely adding the final flourish to the story of that woman whose resentment toward the Holy City festers."
From the beginning, Oscarrain had not necessarily sought to wage a massive war in this land by any means possible. He simply happened to pick up a human woman—Alphanah—happened to find her boiling desire for revenge resonant, and happened to think she could be used to expose the true nature of the Chryscles Holy Church. Because that woman desired the destruction of the Holy City, he was merely setting a fitting stage for her.
Oscarrain never soiled his own hands in pursuing his objectives.
He perceived the visible world as a sort of "board," and viewed all life dwelling upon it as pieces upon that board. If necessary, he would busily work behind the scenes to gather pieces, and at times bestow power with benevolence; but once he released them into the enemy ranks, he merely watched the tide of battle from the heavens as a fleeting amusement.
Why had he gone out of his way to spend time and effort planting multiple teleportation spells in the Holy City? It was neither because he wanted to destroy the Holy City nor because he wished for the victory of his pieces.
—It was simply because it was more entertaining to watch that way.
If one were to force a human comparison to this mentality—it was perhaps similar to dropping a predatory insect into another insect's nest and observing the unfolding chaos from the perspective of a god.
Just as he had done when destroying Luther.
"Some flee helplessly, some resist desperately, and all perish pitifully—that very moment is the only beautiful form humans possess. It would be a waste to choose the night when most are asleep. That woman must make the flower I took the trouble to provide bloom into a grand blossom, or it would be troublesome."
"I see. So that is why Your Excellency personally traveled to Dungeons across the land."
"Of course."
At the five activated magic circles, the teleportation of monsters had already begun in succession. Not only commonly known monsters such as Goblins, Bandits, and Mantises, but also numerous high-ranking monstrosities that had only ever been sighted deep within Dungeons were mixed among them.
The origin points of the teleportation were uncharted Dungeons scattered across the land. Although constrained by the range of the teleportation magic, each was a domain where mighty bosses had long repelled adventurers.
"Though their numbers are somewhat reduced, all of them shall paint a fine war."
To the west—the corrupt, wicked Princess of the Spiria.
To the east—the Carbuncle manipulating space, and the Treant drowning everything in a sea of trees.
To the southwest—the mimicking, immortal Slime.
To the southeast—the Onimusha who sold his soul to a demon, and the arrogant Earth Dragon.
And to the south—the Lamia Alphanah, a revenger who cast aside her humanity.
Special specimens that wielded power so far beyond standard monsters that the nation had assigned them unique identifiers to be guarded against—people collectively referred to them as "Named."
There were seven monsters capable of annihilating a city on their own, including Alphanah. As if echoing Oscarrain's anticipation, the voice on the right spoke:
"Then we need only take advantage of the battle's chaos to investigate that enigmatic tower."
"Mm."
Oscarrain answered immediately, and the one on the left added:
"—What should we do with the Saints?"
To this, he also answered instantly.
"I leave it to you. Slaying them is fine, tormenting them is fine—or subduing them as Drops is fine as well."
Uncontrollable delight welled up from the left and right. While Oscarrain had little interest in it, there was a certain subset among Vampires who took pleasure in aggressively enslaving humans, treating them like ornaments that demonstrated their own power.
It was good that the pieces' morale was high. It would also serve as an opportunity to discern whether the Saints' existence was mere bluff or backed by commensurate strength.
Even so, right now, the vanguard of the teleported monsters had only just begun to draw screams from the populace.
"Now wait, there is no need to rush so. Soon, once the presence of monsters fills every corner, no one will notice even if we slip inside."
At that moment, the bell of the Cathedral rang.
Hearing the bell pealing as clamorously as possible, Oscarrain understood that it signaled an emergency rather than the time of day.
"Mm, a fitting bell for the opening."
The curtain of war was raised. Would Alphanah achieve her vengeance fueled by burning hatred, just as in that small town? Or would the resistance of the humans led by the Saints present a different, entertaining spectacle?—Whichever way it turned out, it was equally amusing to Oscarrain.
He spread his arms wide.
"Now, entertain me to the fullest, humans."
From a corner of the heavens concealed from all by magic, with godlike insolence, Oscarrain—
—Linevixion.
A girl's voice.
Oscarrain and his two subordinates could not immediately discern where the voice resonated from. It distinctly pierced through the bell tolls echoing across the city, resembling words of blessing raining down from the heavens to the earth.
A detestably clear, sacred resonance, as though imbuing a prayer into every single sound woven.
At the top of the tower, a pure white light.
"...!"
Standing in the sky, Oscarrain witnessed without omission the transformation born within the Holy City immediately following it.
A massive wave of pure white magical power slid down the tower like a surge, diffusing across the earth and permeating every corner of the Holy City. The spreading light rapidly intensified in brilliance, enveloping everything within the Holy City in pure white for a brief moment—and burst.
Becoming minute grains of magical power, the white light filled the sky and earth with countless twinkles.
It was just like beautiful white snow dancing down from the heavens.
"Oho—you make your move swiftly, Saint!"
It was not an attack of any kind. What sort of magic it was, or whether it had truly been magic at all, was indistinguishable at the present moment.
However, regardless of what it was, there was no doubt the Saint had made a countermove.
How delightful—it meant they were not merely a decorative faction that holed up at the top of a tower to pray while their people were engulfed in the flames of war.
Oscarrain bared his fangs in a grin and raised his voice aloud.
"The curtain has risen! Show me a fine war, humans!"
"—Shitty Vampires."
Standing on the terrace outside the Holy Sanctum, she offered a prayer alongside the pure white light.
Cursing as no Saint should, with words far removed from anything sacred.
"I'll teach you whose stage you've stepped onto."
The blessing of the Saint of Hakua filled the Holy City.
Rizelle was perhaps the quickest in the Holy City to understand the activation of the five teleportation spells surrounding the Holy Court District.
The bell of the Cathedral could be heard. Distinctly different from the customary time-telling chime, an extraordinarily jarring, ear-splitting tone echoed forth. What this sound—instantly recognizable as abnormal—signified had already been communicated to all residents of the Holy City by the Knight Corps in advance.
This was not a time chime, but an alarm.
It announced the emergency situation of the Holy City being attacked by monsters, urging swift evacuation to the Holy Court District.
There was no agitation.
I knew it—I knew it would come to this, a dark emotion continuously swirled deep within her heart.
"—Well then, Wolka, I'm heading out."
Rizelle acted immediately. Leaving behind Le Bouquet, where swift evacuation was underway under Roze's command, she looked straight toward the Commercial District from atop the hill.
The point where the red light rose seemed not very far from Griffith Workshop.
Claesta was in danger.
Rizelle, who had watched Claesta shut herself inside the workshop numerous times over the past week, understood. She could declare it. She would bet a week's worth of desserts on it. Even while the clamorous bell rang, Claesta would never leave the workshop until the prosthetic leg was finished.
She would absolutely prioritize the prosthetic over her own safety.
Rizelle understood the feeling. Following Ramsey's death, Claesta had cleared most of the manufacturing process with divine momentum, reaching a point where a provisional fitting was possible tomorrow. Just because monsters attacked—no, precisely because monsters attacked, failing to complete it here would mean betraying everything. Both the dying wish entrusted to her by Ramsey, and the promise she swore to Wolka.
She was certain to think that way.
That was why Rizelle had to go and save her.
"...Yeah. Please."
Wolka answered as if squeezing the words out, his clenched fist trembling faintly. He must have felt frustrated—frustrated at himself for being unable to move properly due to his left leg. He must have found it unforgivable—this world that sought to sink its poisonous fangs not only into Luther, but into the people of the Holy City as well.
Even though Wolka had done nothing wrong.
Even though losing his left leg was entirely Rizelle's fault.
Why did this world refuse to grant the wounded Wolka time to rest peacefully?
Suffering severe injuries that brought him a step away from death, losing an eye and a leg, fighting against Ruffians, and overcoming a Duel with his body alone. Just when peaceful days had finally returned, the town that had once taken care of him was destroyed, his neighbor passed before him—and to top it all off, at this very moment, even the peace of the Holy City, which had long been free from the threat of monsters, was about to crumble away.
Nauseating, sinister emotions crawled across Rizelle's entire body like serpents. Presuming to understand with just this much might be conceited—yet, she felt she could now understand a little of Wolka's feelings as he resented God and despised the world.
Had Wolka been fighting such emotions ever since the past that Rizelle did not know?
There was fear in leaving Wolka behind here. Thinking about what might happen while she was away made Rizelle's body want to tremble as well. In truth, if it were her back when she was in Luther, leaving Wolka's side would have been impossible to even consider.
However, she felt she could no longer remain such a weak self.
Because she had seen Wolka time and again refusing to give up, walking forward as though proclaiming his very existence, even after losing an eye and a leg.
What if Claesta were killed? What if the prosthetic were destroyed right before completion? What if many people fell victim before her eyes?
If such things truly came to pass—
Rizelle would never forgive this world again.
"Do not worry! Claesta will definitely make it. I shall go rescue her and ensure she makes it in time."
It was a strange sensation. Although indescribable emotions swirled deep within her heart, her mind was astonishingly calm, granting her enough composure to gently smile at Wolka like this.
Perhaps it was thanks to this white snow dancing down from the heavens—the protection of the Saint.
Because he had said, Please.
Because she wanted to be a Master who could be of help to her beloved disciple this time around.
She would not take her favorite witch hat.
"Today, I too am truly, genuinely serious!"
Cloaking her entire body in magical power, Rizelle leaped into the air from atop the hill.
Focusing her mind, she activated the spell formula, awakening the blood of the Spiria slumbering within her. The shape of her ears slowly transformed, her hair took on a faint phosphorescence, and a stardust-like sparkle began to trace the path of her falling motion. Lightly touching the tip of her foot to the slope of the hill and leaping once more, Rizelle's body floated gently into the air, defying the shackles of gravity.
Liseluarte was a Demihuman—half-human and half-Spiria, born of a Spiria mother and a human father.
Awakening the Spiria blood slumbering inside her brought back the memory of the first time she showed this form to Wolka.
That was several months after they began traveling together as Silvery Grey. Late at night during a day they camped out on the road, Rizelle had secretly assumed this form and bathed in the moonlight by the shore of a spring, thinking no one was around.
"—Phew. I've been slacking off recently, so my senses really might have dulled..."
She muttered to herself. What Rizelle was doing back then was training to awaken the Spiria blood slumbering inside her through magic—in short, training her "Spiria transformation." Ever since meeting Wolka, every day had been immensely fulfilling; she devoted herself entirely to magic lessons as a mentor, leaving her own training completely pushed aside.
Of course, the Spiria transformation was nothing overly grand. What changed compared to the usual Rizelle was merely that her ears grew pointed like slender triangles. Aside from that, phosphorescent magical power scattered from her body, and her movements became slightly lighter, as though floating in midair.
It took nearly three minutes from activating the magic to completing the Spiria transformation. Rizelle sighed.
"Haa... Getting like this after just slacking off a bit, I really am..."
It was said that Demihumans born between humans and the Demon Race often resembled humans in physical appearance, while unseen aspects like lifespan and mentality leaned closer to the Demon Race. And the more strongly they inherited demonic blood, the further their biological potential—such as magical power and physical capability—deviated from ordinary humans. In other words, conversely, a Demihuman with thin demonic blood was—
"Master? Master... right?"
"...Ah."
While she was engaging in slight self-loathing, Wolka was standing behind her before she knew it. She thought he was fast asleep long ago, but it seemed he had woken up and come out of the tent.
Waaaah, Rizelle panicked slightly.
"A-Ah, Wolka... T-This is the first time I have shown you this form, is it not?"
Wolka blinked his eyes.
"Could that be... you know, your awakened mode or something, Master?"
"U-Um, yes..."
Wolka circled Rizelle, observing her with great interest. Rizelle's heart thudded intensely; she barely held back the urge to simply run off somewhere. —Calm down, Rizelle. You simulated showing this form to Wolka someday, didn't you? It's fine, Wolka won't be creeped out by this. Believe in my disciple.
Whether that prayer reached the heavens or not, no unpleasant emotions drifted from Wolka. Looking completely impressed, he said:
"I was surprised. It's really beautiful, Master."
"Fueh... G-Geez, Wolka. You have finally noticed my adult cha—"
"Ah, no, not that. Look, the light on your back looks like wings."
"Do not deny it in a second!! Do not say 'not that'!! You could let me dream just a little, you foolish disciple!!"
The moment Rizelle snapped and lost her composure, the phosphorescence dwelling in her body scattered without resistance. Normal gravity returned to her entire body, and her sharply pointed ears shrank back down.
"Ah, did you turn back...?"
"Mu... Mm. Well, as you can see, it requires quite a bit of concentration. If I get distracted, I immediately revert. That is why I train like this occasionally."
Having answered that far, a second sigh involuntarily escaped her.
"I did not inherit the Spiria blood very strongly, after all..."
"Is it different if the blood is thick?"
"Indeed. I must rely on magic, but those who inherit the blood truly strongly can easily awaken just by going, like... 'Hmph!' with spirit, apparently."
If there was anything Rizelle had strongly inherited from her Spiria mother, it was merely this detestable, childish figure that refused to grow no matter how much time passed. Why had she perfectly inherited only the thing she needed least? Rizelle still held a slight grudge against the god of fate even now.
At any rate, talking about it made her gradually feel depressed.
"A-Are you disappointed...? In truth, I am really not all that—"
"That's not true at all."
Yet, Wolka brushed aside Rizelle's anxiety with an immediate reply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
"It just makes me think even more how glad I am that you're my Master. I'm learning magic from an amazing person."
"............I-Is that so? I see, I see...! Ehehe."
—A fond memory. The warmth that filled Rizelle's heart back then was now like a blade coldly tearing through her chest when recalled.
As a Demihuman, Rizelle could hardly be called blessed by any measure. For example, the Holy Knight of fire whom Rizelle and the others had sparred with the other day was a super elite who inherited demonic blood exceptionally strongly—a monster capable of lightly brushing Atri aside in close combat. Her physical potential was extremely close to that of the Demon Race; someone like her could likely enter an awakened state with ease simply by pumping herself up with a "Hmph!"
Rizelle was not like that.
While her magical power could be considered superior as a child of a Spiria, her body was frail, her physical capabilities were no different from a child's, and she could not even awaken her own blood without relying on magic. To make matters worse, even that magic demanded high concentration, turning Rizelle's flaw of being "mentally fragile" into a weakness that was truly no laughing matter.
However, for today alone.
In this moment from here on out, she felt she could truly be a self worthy of the title "Great and Grand Great Mage."
She was not flying through the sky. Yet, neither was it the same as a human running upon the earth. Each time the tip of Rizelle's foot lightly touched the ground, an ethereal, momentary ripple was born. Her soft leaps, devoid of any feeling of gravity, carried her through the air like the wind, clearing over ten meters in a single bound. Scattering an unbroken trail of stardust light and lightly leaping from rooftop to rooftop across the buildings, Rizelle crossed the Holy Court District and reached the Commercial District in the blink of an eye.
At that moment, a voice reached her from an alley below.
"—No, stay away!! Someone, someoneeee!!"
Not the main thoroughfare, which was in utter chaos with evacuating residents—but a narrow alley hidden between buildings. At a dead end beyond a complex maze of paths, a young mother and child were cornered by three Bandits.
They had likely taken a wrong turn in their frantic rush to flee. The child held in the mother's arms was far younger than Rizelle, at an age where they likely could not even understand what was happening before their eyes. Not understanding why their mother trembled in fear, the child continuously stared at the Bandits ahead with a puzzled expression.
A portion of the smaller, fast-moving monsters had already made it this far into the city. It was proof that the knights' counterattack was falling behind due to the complete surprise attack delivered via teleportation magic.
Rizelle acted without hesitation.
The child was the only one who clearly saw and remembered what transpired in that instant.
The Bandits pounced all at once; the mother squeezed her child tight and shut her eyes; and into that narrow space, a single girl descended soundlessly. The moment the small tip of her foot traced a magic circle rather than a ripple upon the ground, all of the Bandits were torn apart and blown to pieces.
"—,...H-Huh?"
Realizing that the pain she braced for never came, the mother timidly lifted her eyelids.
When she did, no one was there anymore. There were only the remnants of the subjugated monsters, crumbling away and vanishing.
"...Mama!"
As she stood stunned, not understanding what had happened, the child in her arms raised a cheer in excitement. With both eyes sparkling round and bright:
"Amazing! A fairy just saved us! She came down from the sky, went bam! and beat the wolves, and flew away again!"
"A-A fairy...?"
The mother was utterly baffled. Naturally, even looking around, she found not a trace of such a figure, let alone any human presence besides themselves. She had never once heard of fairies living in the Holy City, so logically speaking, it had to be a mistake on the child's part. Even if a knight or an adventurer had saved them, to leave without uttering a single word to the people they rescued—
"Y-You must have seen wrong, right?"
"Uh-uh, it was definitely a fairy!"
Even so, the child shook her head adamantly, spreading both arms wide into the air.
"—'Cause her wings were all sparkly and shiny!"
Of course, the child's claim was a mere misunderstanding. Rizelle had no wings. She had simply descended from the sky as though she had wings, and leaped into the air to depart as though she had wings.
However—
"...I decided! When I grow up, I'm gonna be a fairy!"
"H-Huh...?"
—Seeing the phosphorescence trailing from the small body, one might find it not so strange after all to mistake it for the wings of a fairy.