Episode 8

The Falsh Ruins Site had been engulfed in clamor from the fierce battle. Now, in contrast, a quiet stillness hung in the air.

“They vanished completely. Spamming ancient magic like that…”

“Magic of the old era. It should be a technology that still hasn’t been fully understood.”

The one who called themself Pariaach—someone with the appearance of a child and an uncanny aura—had toyed with Selen’s group using unfamiliar power.

“That’s worrying too, but… that idiot got taken. —They said it was a ‘substitute plan,’ didn’t they?”

“They also called me a ‘key.’ It doesn’t seem like sacred arts were the real target, but…”

The fact that Maenof had been captured in her place weighed heavily on Ciel.

“Don’t flatter yourself. No matter what you did, the result would’ve been the same.”

Zeke walked to the spot where Pariaach had disappeared. He seemed to be investigating, searching for traces.

“Lady Ciel. My friend is saying this. …That love saves the world.”

Aaron struck a pose with a rose he’d produced from somewhere, holding it in his mouth. For some reason, it looked like sparkles were shimmering around him.

“I-I don’t think that’s quite right… Selen, perhaps he really is a bit unusual.”

“Don’t look at him directly. We don’t know what might happen.”

The two spoke in whispers. They were thoroughly put off by Aaron’s antics, but the mood had softened. Ciel understood it as Zeke’s way of encouraging her.

“So then, what do we do next…”

“We’re done here. We’re returning to the royal capital.”

As Zeke began preparing to leave, a knight hurried over in a panic.

“W-wait! What’s going to happen to Lord Maenof?”

“Are you stupid? You people failed, and he got abducted. …I wonder who’s going to be held responsible.”

Zeke’s words drained the color from the knights’ faces. They immediately began shifting blame among themselves.

At the National Military Headquarters, which oversaw both the Knight Order and the Mage Corps, the key figures gathered in a room.

“What a disaster… to think one of our sacred-arts users has been captured by the enemy.”

A senior official at headquarters lamented aloud.

This incident had begun with farmer disappearances. In the relevant farming village, the deaths of all villagers had been confirmed.

They had made contact with an antagonistic organization believed to be behind it, and confirmed involvement in the chain of incidents that had started in Apion. But they failed to restrain the enemy, allowed their escape, and the situation escalated into the abduction of Maenof Protocol, a sacred-arts user.

“Even if distantly related, he carries royal blood. Why was such a young man allowed to accompany this operation…?”

“Indeed. The enemy’s objective and the full picture are unknown. What were you thinking?”

“If we had managed to restrain even one…”

A storm of accusations flew. Every time someone spoke, it was only negative.

“…You’re drifting from the main point. My understanding was that this meeting was convened to share the incident overview.”

A young man with hair threaded in silver—Actol, the heir apparent of the Astera Ducal House—spoke with a sigh.

“However, Lord Actol. If we don’t clarify where responsibility lies, we can’t even draft countermeasures.”

“Indeed. Our nation’s development owes much to sacred arts. This matter is not trivial.”

“Someone must take responsibility.”

(What a rigged farce. Though, to be fair, we’re doing the same thing.)

Actol sighed inwardly.

Clarify responsibility. Decide where the blame should land.

The true purpose of the meeting was obvious to anyone.

“Responsibility, you say… but you were supposed to have received word about the farmer disappearances. —The initial report. When you failed to act, the ducal house—meaning us—responded.”

“…And what do you say to that?”

Hanhanberu Plant, the Knight Order’s vice commander, answered after being addressed.

“Of course we received the report. We merely prioritized other matters.”

Farmers abandoning villages was not rare.

Dispatching many knights far from the royal capital was also a risk.

It could not be ruled out that the capital might be targeted again at any time—this was Hanhanberu’s argument.

“…It can be called reasonable. No one can know outcomes in advance.”

“Indeed. Life may be precious, but it is not equal.”

“We must not forget the attack on the royal capital.”

(They’re desperate, these old men…)

It was a meeting where even strained excuses could pass. Some would surely question what the meeting was even for. Among regimental-commander-level officers of the Knight Order and Mage Corps, a few frowned openly.

“Still… even if we didn’t know their objective, we should have been able to predict their aim. If the ducal house’s lady was the target, then Protocol naturally required heightened caution.”

“Indeed. What was the escort for?”

“The quality of adventurers has fallen. And this is supposedly A-rank.”

All eyes turned to one person: a black-haired young man sitting with arms crossed, looking bored, wearing an insolent air. Zeke had been forced to attend this meeting as well.

“…It seems everyone wishes to speak with you.”

“I don’t care. If you don’t need anything, I’m leaving.”

Not only his attitude, but his words were openly disrespectful. His remarks sounded like picking a fight with everyone present, and the participants bristled.

“And what is this pathetic farce? Are you all that bored? Don’t tell me it’s like this year-round.”

The participants fell silent, stunned by what sounded like a genuine question.

(He really shows no restraint. He’d probably bite even the king.)

“W-what are you saying, you brat! Know your place, you lawless lout!”

“What? Did I hit a nerve and now you’re throwing a tantrum? Pathetic.”

“!? How dare you, a mere Lagias!”

“I don’t need your permission.”

His utter disregard only made them angrier.

“If you want a landing point, I’ll pick it for you. The reason the damage escalated is because you’re incompetent. Not just this time. Apion, the royal capital, the entrance exam—every one of those was your failure. Therefore… you’re all sentenced to death. Congratulations.”

Zeke sneered. Even for nobles, handing down death sentences to the senior leadership of the National Military Headquarters was unheard of.

“Us—sentenced to death!? Stop mocking us! It’s your fault the sacred-arts user was abducted!”

“Hah. Are you senile, old man? My role was to investigate the disappearances and protect the ducal house’s woman. That contract was signed through the Adventurers Association.”

Zeke produced the request form from his pocket. It contained the commission details and signatures from both the Adventurers Association and the ducal house.

“That Maenof brat tagged along on his own and vanished on his own. It has nothing to do with me.”

“To add to that, the ducal house did not request their accompaniment either. We don’t know who arranged it, but…”

(It was an eyesore. Him blowing himself up saved us trouble.)

Actol piled on, using Zeke’s statement. It was sly.

“Lagias! Do you truly believe such nonsense will be accepted?”

“What are you even saying? I investigated the incident, protected the ducal house’s woman, and even drove off the enemy. Meanwhile, what did you do? Hide inside sipping tea?”

Zeke mocked their fury. The room had become entirely his stage.

(There’s no way they can win a war of words. And even if they pinned it on him, he wouldn’t face serious punishment. The royal family will not permit Lagias to be killed.)

The royal family knew Lagias’s role, while the National Military Headquarters had been told nothing. That was why, no matter how many misdeeds the House of Lagias committed, they were never punished.

“If my A-rank title bothers you, then demote me—or strip my qualification. I don’t need it anymore.”

Zeke spat the words while looking at Actol, implying it was Actol’s doing. To Zeke, adventuring was merely a way to make money.

“If you don’t like me, go cry to the king. Report that I insulted you.”

He glared at each senior official in turn and hurled abuse.

“Life has priorities and isn’t equal, right? Then you senile parasites should be the first to disappear—for the sake of the young with a future.”

Zeke stood up, about to leave the room.

“W-wait! You think this ends here?”

“What… you want me to end you?”

In an instant, the room froze. Cold air flooded the chamber, and solid ice formed across the space.

The killing intent was so frigid that people recoiled—some even foamed at the mouth and fainted.

“What a bunch of lucky fools… trash with no sense of crisis.”

A carriage moved through the Royal Special District. Inside the carriage bearing the ducal crest sat Actol and Zeke.

“Every time, I’m amazed you can spew that much abuse. In a way, it’s impressive.”

“If you’re impressed, then I’m slipping.”

“I’ve told you over and over—I’m the next duke, you know?”

Their exchanges were as usual. At first, those around Actol had tried to correct Zeke’s behavior, but it had never worked.

“…They wanted to dump all responsibility on you as Lagias. From their perspective, losing one low-ranking sacred-arts user is no problem.”

“Useless bunch.”

The House of Lagias was stained with infamy and faced hostility from every direction, yet in the kingdom’s long history, they had never once been disposed of. That fact infuriated other infamous nobles, while the righteous burned with indignation.

“An incompetent House of Lagias, yet they perform brilliantly everywhere. They couldn’t accept it and assumed it was all made up. Still, I think today’s meeting put a nail in that.”

“Doesn’t matter. Incompetent trash and senile wrecks can do whatever they want. It has nothing to do with me.”

The carriage rolled slowly through the sparsely populated special district.

“…That dungeon discovered in the Anseli Forest. What’s its status now?”

“Ah… the unexplored dungeon that appeared in the Lagias Domain. We have reports from the investigation unit at the time, and from Glanz—the Sage—who has since retired, but no proper survey was possible. It’s been five years now, hasn’t it…”

Ancient magic set in the deepest level had nearly wiped out the survey unit. After that report, entry was forbidden, and the kingdom could not bring itself to launch a full investigation.

“Then make the arrangements from your side. I’m going in alone.”

“Alone…? Why?”

“They were ranting about some ‘substitute plan.’ I’m going to ruin it.”

“I’d ask for a more specific explanation… but you won’t give one, will you? —At this point, the official route will take time. I’ll push it through the back channels, so plan accordingly.”

The original story’s flow was being distorted. Then he would simply choose what benefited him.

—Even if that choice meant sacrificing someone.

The Apothecaries Association had bases in countries across the continent. The Kingdom of Diabalet was no exception, with numerous branches. Two men and women visited one of them.

“Not here either…”

“…This is a major branch, judging by its scale. If this doesn’t work, the others won’t either…”

Their expressions were grim. They looked deeply disappointed.

“…The trading company is helping too. We should go back for now.”

“The trading company… my old man can’t help. There has to be another way. The road isn’t cut off. We’re saving Grandpa.”

A boy who realized his own weakness and sought strength.

He trained under his grandfather, praised as a sword saint, and grew strong.

Van had grown from boy to young man.

A girl who had lost her reason for living and given up on everything.

Saved by someone who could be called the strongest, she had chased that back ever since.

Atri had grown into a woman, with no trace left of the “accursed child.”

The story’s protagonist and heroine had begun to move.