"Huh? What did you just say?"
"I won't repeat myself. —Once I took the emperor's throne, I made it so that every citizen of the Empire within my reach, I could match each face to its name."
"Are you insane?!"
Abel's preposterous answer—delivered with crossed arms and a dead-serious expression—sent Subaru's voice shooting skyward.
The setting: inside a dragon carriage, currently en route from the fortress city of Gar Guram to the Imperial Capital
Roughly speaking, the "Save the Volakia Empire from Annihilation" team—comprising Kingdom personnel, Empire personnel, and whatever supplies they could load—had split across three dragon carriages. Subaru, currently, had deliberately boarded the Empire-side carriage rather than staying with his own group.
Not because he was betraying the Kingdom, but because he desperately wanted to know one thing—the reason Abel had joined the assault team. He had to have his answer.
Of course, since this was the battle that would decide Volakia's fate, it only made sense that Abel, in his position, would stand on the front lines. But as someone who had been through countless unwanted pinches alongside Abel, Subaru could attest to one thing: Abel had brains aplenty but no real combat ability.
In terms of sheer military strength—the only thing that would matter in the Imperial Capital—his presence on this mission was utterly unconvincing.
Subaru didn't think even Abel had gone full Volakian-head, so there had to be some overriding reason for coming along. But there was also the possibility that Abel simply didn't want to state his reason in front of Kingdom folk, which was why Subaru had gone out of his way to board this particular carriage.
And right when Subaru had cut the pleasantries and asked, "What use are you, anyway?"— "You can match every citizen's face to its name...?"
This staggeringly idiotic declaration left Subaru's mouth hanging open. The man himself, Abel, furrowed his brows in displeasure.
"Don't get the wrong idea. Not every citizen. Those who hide themselves away in the forests—the people of Shudrak—their identities are impossible to pin down. So no, it's not possible to know every single one."
"Where do you get off being angry? That's still totally nuts! You're saying you remember the face and name of every soldier under your command?"
"It's necessary."
One curt sentence. But that was not how ordinary people thought.
Of course, Subaru wasn't claiming Abel was ordinary, and the fact that he could indeed match the face and name of every Volakian soldier was, in the current situation, enormously important.
Because— "That girl needs a name to remove the neck bolts from the dead, does she not?"
At Abel's matter-of-fact words, Subaru glanced toward
Spica, who couldn't be left behind given her status, had boarded this carriage just like Subaru. She was currently sandwiched between Medium and
To fully unleash the power of Spica's authority, Abel's abnormality—his memory—proved invaluable.
—The "Star Eater." Too much about manifesting its power remained unclear.
When she had successfully activated it against
That was why, at this point, they had no choice but to cling to the one method that had worked before.
"But it burns me up that your impossibly ridiculous memory is what makes that work..."
"Lord Schwarz, surely that's a bit much? Even if His Excellency is a heartless emperor who's always been cold to Lady Yorna."
"Was that advice for him? Or is that just a roundabout way of complaining about me while wearing his skin?"
"Why, it was a warning for Lord Schwarz, of course."
The girl who answered so coolly, averting her gaze from Abel's stare, was
As one of the members accompanying the assault team, she was among those who had the most personal stake regarding Yorna—the central reason they were marching toward this battle.
From what Subaru had heard, Abel had bluntly rejected every one of Yorna's marriage proposals. So Tanza had zero reason—and arguably negative reason—to think favorably of Abel, especially with his treatment of the Magic City factored in.
"I'll have you know, what
"Wait, really? Like your dad or something?"
"Someone further back. If you want the details, ask her directly. At least for now, that opportunity still remains. Isn't that right, girl?"
"…Yes. I can still feel Lady Yorna's power, even now."
Tanza answered softly, touching her fingertips to one of her eyes at Abel's words. This was no hopeful guess—it was a clear conviction born from the benefit of Yorna's power lent to her. As long as that connection persisted, Yorna's survival was guaranteed.
But not knowing what situation she was in within the Imperial Capital—that was agonizing.
It wasn't just Yorna. Priscilla's whereabouts were unknown; Al had stayed behind to help her; and Cecilus had gone off on his own. Subaru's concern for all of them only mounted.
"But when you think about it, there's a problem, isn't there... The force is way too lopsided, right?"
Holding back his impatience, Subaru once again pictured the roster of the "Save the Volakia Empire from Annihilation" team and voiced what he'd been mulling over.
At this, Abel closed one eye, while Tanza tilted her head.
"Lopsided force?"
"Yeah. I mean, on our side we've got me, Beako,
"Did you just brag about Betty?"
"Yep, I did. Lovely Beako, I love you."
"I love you too."
After exchanging affection with Beatrice, who had butted in mid-sentence, Subaru held up one finger.
In the carriage behind them—the one running in the rear—the likes of Emilia and her group were riding.
"And there's
Of course, it wasn't as if the assault team had no Empire nationals at all.
But its vanguard consisted of Abel—whose brain-heavy nature had been re-confirmed as practically non-human—Medium, who had straight-up barged into being his companion, and Jamal, who for some reason had been promoted to "General" and further appointed as the carriage driver, serving his role with great enthusiasm.
Medium and Jamal were certainly both categorized as high-combat-power individuals among Empire nationals. But even so, you couldn't call them stronger than Garfiel.
"And Tanza is mine too, so she's basically on our side, right?"
"———"
"Huh? I expected you to fly into a rage and smack me right away—I'm almost disappointed. ...Oh no, there's a delay?!"
"Don't say whatever you please!"
Paying the price for the wisecrack he'd braced himself for—with far more force than he'd braced for—Subaru screamed. He crouched down with tears in his eyes, only to be glared down coldly by Tanza.
He'd gone too far, sure, but wasn't that still an overreaction?
"Ka-ka-ka-ka! Ya hear that, Excellency? Can't really see how serious the Empire is, can ya? Can't blame him for sayin' it, really!"
"Yeah, yeah, can't blame him at—bhyaahh!?"
"Subaru!? What happened!?"
Trying to nod along with Jamal's sudden raspy voice, Subaru let out a shriek from his throat.
He scrambled toward Beatrice in a desperate dive, clinging to her for dear life. As Subaru and Beatrice embraced, a small, stooped figure stood before them in his field of vision.
Appearing from who-knows-where—the phantom-like "Vile Old Man"
"A little old man appearing all of a sudden is either Olbart or a J-horror movie! They're alike in one way—they're both terrifying! He's insane!"
"Oh-ho, listen to ya talkin' there, boy. Still as small as ever, but ya been keepin' healthy?"
"Who do you think made me small!? I've been great! How about you!?"
"I've been dandy too. Did lose me right hand, though."
So saying, Olbart waved his sleeveless right hand with a flutter. At the sight of it dangling about like that, Subaru couldn't bring himself to say anything snarky and shut up.
Playing the sympathy card by showing wounds—what a dirty trick for someone his age.
"But I fell right into his trap..."
"Put your inner conflict on hold. —You've been briefed on the details, I trust, Olbart Dunkelkenn?"
While Beatrice stroked the head she was holding, Abel called out to Olbart, ignoring Subaru's tormented expression. The eccentric elder nodded with a "Well, then."
"There's some sorcerer controlin' the dead in the Imperial Capital, so we're goin' to kill 'em, right? I can practically see poor old Goz cryin' his eyes out for bein' left behind by Your Excellency. Pathetic, ain't it?"
"Goz has a role that only he can fulfill. As, of course, do you."
"I'm a geezer past ninety, ya know? Still drivin' me like a workhorse—where's your compassion?"
"If you wish to discuss retirement, wait until this business is settled. I've already said as much."
Olbart's casual attitude didn't waver even before the Emperor himself. Abel let the old man's extreme disrespect slide, then added one final remark.
To Olbart, who raised an eyebrow at the preamble— "Going forward, I expect there will be no occasion for your bad habits to rear their head until the day you die."
"———"
"So I command you: keep your urges in check and fulfill your duty, Olbart Dunkelkenn."
Though brief, Abel's words carried a clear, deliberate intent—and Olbart pressed his lips together at them.
It was a preemptive strike against the very concern Subaru harbored toward Olbart—one Abel had addressed head-on. If Olbart had erupted in anger here, there was no one in this carriage who could stop him.
But Olbart was silent for a moment, then tapped his remaining left hand against his hip— "Tch. You young ones are no fun because you've got room to grow. Never thought even the Excellency would be one of 'em—what an unkind world for us old folks."
"I am generous."
"Ka-ka-ka-ka!"
Olbart burst out laughing as if he'd just heard the greatest joke of the century.
And that—Subaru sensed—was the resolution to the quiet standoff between Abel and Olbart. Only then did the unnecessary tension drain from Subaru's shoulders.
Setting aside whether Abel's joke was actually funny, the two had managed to defuse an imminent confrontation.
"…So, Lord Olbart, you'll be coming with us to the Imperial Capital as well?"
Tanza, too, had apparently been harboring the same tension as Subaru. At her slightly stiffened question, Olbart narrowed his eyes beneath his thick brows.
"I got a request from His Excellency, and I don't like havin' the kid tellin' me what to do, neither. A country that doesn't lay its cards on the table when its own land's in danger isn't even worth laughin' at. Besides—"
"Besides?"
"There's others in the Capital too. At least Moguro and that fellow Cecilus."
"…And Lady Yorna."
The temporary alliance formed in the Magic City—Olbart, who had "infantilized" Subaru and the others, and Tanza, who had moved in concert with him through shared interests—was a complicated relationship.
But for now, the two had set aside their mutual friction.
Of the names mentioned, Subaru had never met Moguro in person, but he knew that Yorna was trustworthy both in ability and character. Cecilus, too, had more than enough skill to balance out his... personality. With those two and Olbart joining, the Empire's forces would certainly be considerably bolstered.
"But we've got Halibel on our side, so even with Cessie and the others, we'd still have the edge... or wait, Cessie is ours too."
"Him with a collar on? If so, your understanding of that man is even shallower than I thought."
"Ah, Halibel's coming too, isn't he. He's the only shinobi in the world who's stronger than me, and I genuinely hate his guts."
Each offering their unsolicited opinions about the two strongest fighters at their disposal.
In any case, with Olbart joining the ranks, the question of Abel's rationale for coming—and the Empire's combat power—was essentially settled. Subaru's doubts were largely resolved, though there were still things he wanted to dig into, such as Medium becoming a candidate for imperial consort.
"We'll save the Medium story for after we get back. —
Squeezing Beatrice's soft hand, Subaru recalled the words Rem had called out to him from within the great citadel at the time of their departure.
Those words could be interpreted—as positively as possible—that Rem hoped for his return and was praying for his safety.
"Even if she might chew me out like crazy when I get back, until that actually happens, I'm going to take it positively as Rem being worried about me."
"You don't have to be so self-deprecating to believe she was worried about you, you know?"
"I thought the same thing…"
"Oh come on, you two just don't get Rem, that's all. Sure, she's kind so there's probably a little of that, but mostly she's just furious with me—no no no, positive, positive…!"
Nearly undoing the self-hypnosis he'd cast on himself, Subaru hastily reinforced it with another layer of positive thinking.
Beatrice and Tanza were watching him with pity, but once his mental armor was reassembled, Subaru was impervious to the look in their eyes. *Clang*—bounced right off.
"—Your Excellency, we'll be arriving at the relay point shortly. The dragon carriage will stop for a bit."
Just as Subaru had finished re-arming his psyche, Jamal's report came through the small window as he poked his head in from the driver's seat.
Jamal, who had been standing guard around the moving carriage, spotted Olbart—someone who absolutely should not have been next to Abel—and froze. Olbart responded with a cheerful wave, the picture of poor taste.
In any case, having reached the relay point, Subaru—with his questions now answered—intended to return to the Kingdom-side carriage where Emilia and the others were. But before that, he called out "Hey" to Jamal through the small window.
"I overheard something—you said you'd die for Katchua?"
"Huh? What about it, brat?"
"I mean, that's messed up, isn't it? Katchua's already devastated over losing her fiancé—if her brother died too, can you even imagine how she'd feel?"
Having heard that Jamal had boldly declared to Katchua that he would die a noble, glorious death, Subaru had questioned his sanity—and gotten dizzy wondering if being Volakian-headed really went that deep.
That was why he'd wanted to retract Jamal's statement and make him swear to come back alive to Katchua.
But Jamal snorted derisively at Subaru's words.
"Listen, brat, don't say stupid things."
"Stupid? What's stupid about it?"
"That if I die, Katchua will cry? Who the hell cares about that. What matters is how much I can serve His Excellency and the country before I die, and whether I get a death gratuity."
"See, that's exactly—people like you look at honor or whatever and treat your lives like they're nothing—"
"You don't get it, brat! She can't stand, and she can't have kids! Without Todd around, there's no man who'd take her! Katchua needs money to survive!"
Jamal spat the words at Subaru, raising his voice.
Then, leaning past Subaru, he looked toward Abel behind him.
"Right now, I'm a Three-Star General. If I can serve His Excellency here, I can expect to be treated as a Two-Star after I die. Then Katchua is set. I can do more for Katchua as a dead brother than I ever could alive!"
"—!"
At Jamal's fierce logic, Subaru involuntarily held his breath.
"Subaru-chin…"
Medium looked at the silent Subaru with worried, downturned eyebrows. But that was as far as her reaction went—she had no objection to Jamal's reasoning. And she wasn't the only one. Abel and Olbart were the same.
Jamal's argument made sense. From the Empire's perspective, it was a universally held view.
Only Beatrice stepped half a pace closer, aligning her shoulder with Subaru's as if to comfort him.
"Mm…"
—No, Spica too, gently pressing her hand against Subaru's back, was trying to support him.
"———"
Against Jamal's reasoning, Subaru's was nothing more than the emotional sentiment of someone who didn't know the Empire's reality.
But the fact that Jamal was saying this, and that Abel and the others had nothing to counter it with, was wrong. If death brought a gratuity that guaranteed Katchua's future, then Jamal should live—live and live and survive, climb the ranks, and guarantee Katchua's life with his salary.
"If Abel's salary for his Generals isn't pathetically meager, you can do it. —I've decided, Jamal."
"Huh? What now…"
"I'm going to stop that future plan of yours. No matter what. —You are absolutely not allowed to die."
Gritting his back teeth hard, Subaru declared as if issuing a challenge.
At his words, Abel let out a quiet snort, Olbart bared his teeth in amusement and chuckled low, Tanza hugged her own arm tightly, and Medium's eyes went wide before she nodded.
And Beatrice and Spica, standing alongside Subaru, fixed their gazes on Jamal.
Meeting the eyes of those three children standing together, Jamal narrowed his left eye—the one without the eyepatch.
"Creepy little brat, ain't ya."
"Your friend told me the same thing. —Won't stop me, though."
Before the small window closed, those last words were exchanged, and Jamal returned to his duty of watching the surroundings as he brought the dragon carriage to a halt at the relay point.
Watching him go, Subaru closed his eyes and faced his own heart honestly.
He now understood that Jamal had his own reasons. And that this way of thinking was considered perfectly valid within the Empire.
Keeping that firmly in mind, Subaru still thought it was complete bullshit.
"Dying to save someone—that kind of thing—"
It was a method so painful that even Abel himself couldn't bear it, and nothing more.
That was precisely why
Despite the dragon carriage's furious speed, the Imperial Capital was still far away, maddeningly so. Thinking of what was happening there made his heart race.
Faster, faster—Subaru's restlessness continued to mount.
--- Meanwhile, under the same sky, the scene shifted to a situation far from tranquil.
Dark clouds blanketed the sky, their ominous pattern foreshadowing the Empire's march toward destruction.
Immersed in the staggering volume of water that had burst through the destroyed Stillwater Wall—and having let the living who had sheltered behind that star-shaped barrier escape—the Imperial Capital Lupugana had become a city of the dead.
Survivors who fought on against the reanimated dead wandering the streets, hiding in terror of being discovered—among them were not just those who concealed themselves, but fierce warriors who sought to wrest life back through combat.
But many of those who took up weapons would come to regret that hasty decision.
A battle once begun meant an endless race against the dead, who kept rising again and again. Comparing one's remaining life force against creatures that had already exhausted theirs, there could be no winning.
In bitter irony, it was the brave who fell first, joining the ranks of the dead to seek out the next living soul.
The Imperial Capital had now become a spiraling city where the dead called to the dead—a vortex of death, a manifestation of concentrated despair.
But— "—How rare to see such a state of affairs, though upon closer inspection it's not all that interesting, which is rather vexing. If only things were more exciting! If someone were to make a grand return to the stage! Then perhaps there'd be something worth watching."
So saying, a young boy with bound-up blue hair let it flutter in the damp, musty wind.
The garishly conspicuous boy cupped a visor of his hand against his eyes and surveyed his surroundings, sharing his impressions aloud.
His skin, which carried the color of blood, and his blue eyes—these marked him as a living being, far removed from the most obvious traits of the dead.
Yet, surveying the apocalyptic tableau of the transformed Imperial Capital and offering his impressions was, in a way, an opinion further removed from the living than even the zombies below.
Or perhaps, depending on one's definition, a true transcender might be defined as an entity so powerful as to render the very distinction between living and dead meaningless—one granted the freedom to do as they please.
In any case, the boy's eyes held a bright, cheerful madness—a light that existed not because he felt no fear in this situation, but because he had never once in his entire life felt fear at all.
"Now then, I could go ahead and slash through every enemy I see, one by one, and single-handedly repaint the battlefield—that would be a feat, an exploit, a legend of the highest order, and no one could do it but me…"
That gaze—which would likely terrify anyone else—lowered as the boy stopped scanning the distance and tilted his head.
"Somehow, I don't really get the feeling that would lead to a good outcome!"
Hands raised in surrender, the boy was simply being honest with his own intuition.
With his power, it was no exaggeration to say he could mow down the vast majority of the dead haunting the Imperial Capital all by himself. But the boy wouldn't do it. And the reason he wouldn't—though he couldn't quite articulate it—troubled him all the same.
For the countless people suffering in the Imperial Capital, this was a complaint so far off the beaten path it wouldn't merely be a luxury—it would be cause for rage. No one but the boy could understand it, no one but the boy could find meaning in it, and yet it was a matter of great concern to him.
"Mm-mm…" he groaned, sighing with a troubled expression, before— "It's hard to explain. What do you think about all this?"
"Not… really sure, but…"
"Yeah?"
"Wouldn't it be better if you pulled me up first before havin' this conversation…?"
The boy squatted down and peered over the edge.
What filled his vision was a tall building—one he'd chosen as a temporary perch—its rooftop, and a man in an iron helmet clinging desperately to the edge, doing everything he could not to fall.
The man was supporting his entire weight with one hand. But that was unavoidable, for he had only one arm to begin with—making it impossible for him to hold on with both hands.
Gazing down at the man in this dire predicament, the boy—Cecilus—smiled.
"I'm afraid not, Al. After all, since I have no idea what you even are, I can't very well decide whether it's worth dragging you along for the rest of my story!"
Grinning broadly, Cecilus looked down at the man dangling below him—Al—and a thin, strangled sound escaped the man's throat.
The Imperial Capital Lupugana had become a hellish spiral of death where the dead called to the dead— "Ah, shit, this is really the worst…"
—but at the very least, this one fleeting scene had become a confrontation between two living beings who should have had no reason to fight each other, each forcing the other to question what it truly means to be alive.