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“So, you two… are saying the cause of the disturbance isn’t an epidemic, but a curse?”
“Can’t you hear? Before ‘curse’ or ‘epidemic,’ get your head fixed.”
Waiting wouldn’t move things forward. Explaining everything would cause turmoil—but Hiroto counted that turmoil as part of the plan.
“Why would there be a curse in Apion? It isn’t important enough to target, and there’s no history of hexcraft…”
“We can’t say absolutely, but if there’s even a chance, we should act.”
He explained that multiple Church personnel and key town figures had fallen.
“If it isn’t an epidemic, that is strange… but changing policy now…”
Apion’s plans had been built on an epidemic premise; switching to anti-curse measures now was hard—and they had no preparations for curses.
“Either way, time is against us. Can the headquarters lead the response?”
“Well… as you know, the Maria Church has a special status. Requesting sweeping cooperation requires procedures…”
Luke negotiated patiently, but Yun wouldn’t agree. The other staff seemed aligned with him.
“Do we even have enough amulets for every resident? Who pays for them?”
“This isn’t the time for that—and the Church is helping us already.”
“That help is premised on an epidemic. They won’t mobilize on uncertainties… And even if we tell residents it’s a curse, will they cooperate? And what is this—parading with amulets held up?”
Yun kept rejecting them.
Why change so much? Was there proof it was a curse? Why should he decide? He was only a stand-in. In a town-wide crisis, he didn’t want to do anything reckless.
“Even so, you’re the person in charge now, Yun. Someone has to choose.”
“You arrived today. You don’t know Apion’s reality… I’m useless, yes—but I’ve lived here longer than you and know the town.”
He wanted them to stop interfering—politely refusing them to avoid further trouble.
“You’ve got quite the tongue. When I saw you earlier, I thought you were a half-dead incompetent.”
“…Adults live with responsibility.”
“Right. And your ‘responsibility’ is to keep making excuses to kids.”
Zeke’s sneer drew a change across the onlookers’ faces.
“No experience. No proof. No money. No authority. What do you have? ‘Mouths to feed’ fits you better than ‘headquarters.’”
The insults kept coming. Some grew angry; some hung their heads; some looked startled.
“Countermeasures based on ‘epidemic’? Have they produced anything? Even a kid can tally numbers who collapse. Ferrying bodies needs no skill.”
“That insults those still suffering.”
“At least I’m better than you lot. How many have you consigned to that quarantine hall with your useless work?”
They wanted to deny it, but had no facts. Since the HQ formed, not one comatose victim had awakened.
“If we’re incompetent, what about the ducal lady? Does a noble in name only have any meaning?”
“Now you’re passing the buck? …Though in that, I do pity you.”
Luke grimaced inwardly—couldn’t you deny that part too? What happened to using Ciel if HQ wouldn’t cooperate?
“Exactly! It’s fair to say the kingdom has abandoned us! Sending us someone… like that!”
Yun seemed to revive as he ranted, eyes bloodshot, voice rising.
“In truth, those with station should lead! Special birth demands responsibility—adult or child, it’s the same!”
Frustration had built up.
Yun had never been supposed to head anything—nor had the others. Ending the crisis was everyone’s wish, but leading an organization was another matter.
“Why must I, we, make the decisions—without pay or standing!?”
Some aimed upward with ambition; not everyone did. A safe, unchanging life was also a way to live.
“That girl bears strong royal blood. Then she must use special healing and save Apion! If she can’t, she’s the incompetent one! She has no value!”
He panted, shoulders heaving.
It bordered on treason, but no one stopped him.
“You understand perfectly. You mean those above should fulfill their charge?”
“…Yes.”
“And if they can’t, they’re incompetent. Truly, you’re gifted at self-analysis. —Hah. Laughable.”
It might have been imagination—but the room felt colder.
“The royal born become kings. Nobles fulfill noble duties. Commoners stay common. …Villains are villains. And who decided that?”
A reek of death wrapped the room. Killing intent fanned out indiscriminately.
“You claim the right to decide a life at birth?”
“I—I didn’t decide that… I’m speaking in generalities.”
“Then bring me whoever spreads your ‘generalities.’ I’ll erase them.”
Ciel’s group came to HQ.
There had been friction, but no concrete solution. At least they should set a direction—so they followed the two… and walked into a fray.
“…Let’s watch. Once we have their words… hang them all.”
“Wait. …Arresting them is enough.”
“Both of you, please stop.”
Zeke and Luke were telling HQ it wasn’t an epidemic but a curse, and urging them to act and assume command.
“…A curse? A blind spot.”
“That Lagias… If he has a lead, why not share it? But if so—divine arts.”
If comas came from a curse, divine arts would be effective—if someone could wield them.
“Impossible. I lack the talent, and the qualification.”
Golton and Stille knew. Their lady had bled herself training for divine arts—only to be judged unfit and prepared for discard by her house.
“Amulets and a march? …He’s a demon.”
“…Be quiet. I can’t hear.”
HQ rejected their proposals.
“So Apion plays the fence-sitter now?”
“…Payment for peacetime complacency.”
“Either way, let’s draw out more info. Lagias may be hiding something else.”
“T-this is absurd. It’s a violent argument.”
Shaking, Yun still forced his voice out. If he didn’t, he’d be swallowed whole.
“What’s wrong? Adults carry responsibility, don’t they? …Why won’t any of you resist?”
“R-resist what!?”
“Hmph. You’ll never understand. …Here’s one thing: that woman is useless.”
The taut air slackened slightly.
“She’s the same as you—just a doll with no will. She’ll act the role she’s given and gladly die when asked.”
The anger in Zeke’s eyes shifted to pity.
“She’s a defective who can’t choose life or death. …But even so, she’s less incompetent than you.”
No dissent—his will was iron.
“In the single point of divine arts, none will surpass her. Even if she’s useless now, she’ll one day be the real thing.”
“…my enemy,” he murmured, barely audible.
“What in the world… is he saying?”
“…Lagias’s mind is unreadable. Best not to take it to heart.”
“But—no one has ever said such a thing to me…”
Ciel had a few close attendants like Golton, but never once had anyone called her the real thing—without flattery, with genuine recognition.
“Lagias—that man… might be a passionate one.”
“…What are you saying? Gross.”
Her heart wavered; an unfamiliar feeling swelled in her chest. She wasn’t sad, yet tears threatened.
“…? Something’s off over there.”
“Oddly noisy. What happened?”
“—!?”
A chill. Ciel felt an uncanny presence she’d never sensed before.
“Wh-what…!? Let’s check!”
Yun—who’d been trembling yet talking—suddenly collapsed. —Not just Yun. Looking around, many people had lost consciousness.
“Damn it! They made their move.”
(Did the caster just hurl a curse at everyone—simultaneously—!?)
“—!? This is…”
For the first time since possessing Zeke, he felt it:
Not the chill of a cold, but a cold packed with grief, rage, grudges, envy, pain, hatred—piled-up negativity.
“So this… is a curse.”
Luke had gone pale and dropped to one knee. He seemed to be resisting, but he could topple any second.
“Hold on! If the whole town is the target, it won’t last long!”
(Should’ve swiped some amulets while I could!)
“Y-you say the craziest things… as usual…”
(This is bad! Damn it—hang in there, Luke!)
Zeke flashed to Luke’s side.
Blue-white light gathered on his right hand; he pressed that palm to Luke.
“Concussive Pulse.”
A body art that drove a shock into the target with mana-laden contact. In the game, it sometimes canceled an enemy’s action—but the force here was stronger than expected, and Luke was blasted backward.
“…”
“What are you doing!? Lagias, have you lost your mind!?”
Ciel’s group burst in, stunned. To them, it looked like Zeke had just knocked everyone down.
“Idiots! Brace for the curse!”
Too late— the wave hit all three.
With no time to struggle, Golton and Stille collapsed.
“Golton! Stille!?”
Ciel held out, but panic had driven her to confusion.
(Different resistance values, huh? Main-story characters aren’t to be sneezed at.)
“Why is this happening!? What is this!?”
“Quiet for a second. …Got it now? This is a curse.”
Hiroto meant to calm her—but what came out was “Quiet,” backed by pressure; ironically, it snapped Ciel back to composure.
“A curse… Then that presence I felt—it’s around here?”
“Are you stupid? It spread across all of Apion. …It’s just us still standing.”
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