——The first thing felt was something like a nightmare seen with open eyes.
"B-b-b…"
A sensation in which the soul, not the mind, rejected comprehension.
Like the feeling of a taut thread being severed—the sensation of what came "right before," completely severed and separated from who they were now, yet the body's acknowledgment that the soul refused to accept.
The nightmare continued.
An unbearable sense of loss, an impossible sense of ending, an unforgivable sense of sacrilege—as something forced itself through the mouth opened to let out a scream and devoured the body's innards from the inside out.
Who, exactly, could bear the sensation of their own existence being gnawed away?
Spilling yellow stomach acid from the corner of their mouth, they convulsed on the cold floor.
That dimly lit place—far too full of wrongness to be a place where life begins—was proof that a soul, torn apart by a nightmare from which there was no waking, had already repeated this countless times.
——Why.
A question like that rose in their mind.
It was a "why"—a "why" directed at the unreasonable, the absurd, at unforeseen misfortune, at some manner of malice, at an unforgivable threat, at a senseless vicious cycle.
——Why, why, why, why, why.
Why did they have to suffer such a fate? Had they truly committed such an awful act? Was it a crime worthy of such punishment?
If it had been an irredeemable mistake, then before piling on drowning punishments, they should have been allowed to begin atoning.
And yet, *why*?
——Why, why, why, why, why, why, why.
To that—questions that would not disappear— "Come, come—to the
A voice, as though it were both a blessing and a curse, brimming with rapture, spoke.
△▼△▼△▼△ "——Petraaa!"
Petra's body lurched forward, and Meili instinctively caught her by the shoulder.
It was barely five seconds after the resolute Petra had turned the page of the black-bound book—the "Book of the Dead." From her demeanor alone, it was clear she had succeeded in reading that book.
The "Book of the Dead" was a magical tome that allowed one to vicariously experience the life history of a person who had died.
However, one could not freely read just anyone's book. There was a condition for reading it—it was limited to those who had some form of connection to the person whose book it was.
You couldn't indulge in the poor taste of peering endlessly into the history of some stranger.
Mind you, whether peering into the history of someone you knew was an elegant practice was, at best, debatable. Either way, Meili—who had herself searched for a "Book of the Dead" she wanted to read—could hardly pass judgment on the matter.
What was important was that, judging from Petra's reaction, she had met the conditions to read that particular "Book of the Dead"—the untitled book found in
And— "Petra, Petra! …No good, she won't wake up."
Meili held Petra in her arms, lightly tapping the girl's closed eyes and pale cheeks, but there was no sign of the limp girl stirring. Fainting, swooning, collapse—whichever it was.
Prompted by Meili's worry, the red scorpion atop her head began busily snapping its pincers as if trying to rouse Petra. Naturally, it had no effect.
Anyone who read the "Book of the Dead" had an entire person's life crammed into their head.
The mental burden must have been enormous. According to what Flam had said, Ezzo—who had apparently pushed himself too hard and read over ten volumes—had initially foamed at the mouth, lost control of his bladder, and passed out.
Fortunately, Petra didn't seem to be suffering in a way that compromised a young lady's dignity to that degree, but— The unconscious girl's expression was etched with anguish and suffering, and her breathing—labored, as if racked by a high fever—was utterly painful to witness.
"Petra, whose… what kind of 'memories' were you shown…?"
Glancing briefly at the "Book of the Dead" that had fallen from Petra's grasp, Meili pushed the book—lying open and face-up on the floor—away with her foot.
The spine was facing upward, but in case the contents happened to catch her eye and Meili ended up collapsed like Petra, that would be a problem. —Not that Meili could think of anyone they shared in common with Petra who would make the "Book of the Dead" take effect.
"It's not Elsa, is it?"
The one possibility—the only person both Meili and Petra knew about, who was already among the dead—was
Given the purpose of this journey, it wasn't an unpleasant thought that Subaru might have found Elsa's "Book of the Dead" and hidden it in his bag so it wouldn't accidentally catch Meili's eye.
But however— "…Yeah, I get it. If it were him, he wouldn't scratch off the spine and hide it from me like that."
Meili quietly nodded in response to the red scorpion's protest as it waved its long tail back and forth.
It was her unwavering trust in Natsuki Subaru.
He had told her she didn't need to forget Elsa. —If he had found Elsa's book, he would have struggled, agonized over it, and ultimately confided in her.
That hesitation, too, would have been born not for his own sake, but out of concern for both Meili and Elsa.
So this had to be someone else's "Book of the Dead"—but— "—?"
When the red scorpion perched on her head suddenly stiffened, Meili slowly raised her face.
The red scorpion had pivoted atop Meili's head, its compound red eyes aimed not at empty space—no, at the tower wall. Noticing this, a prickle ran along the nape of Meili's neck.
It was a premonition, and not a good one. Feeling the subtle shift in the air against her skin, both Meili and the red scorpion sensed something unpleasant outside the tower, beyond the sand dunes.
"This is… no way!"
A connection sparked in her mind, and in the same breath, Meili—still cradling Petra—slipped the red scorpion into the collar of her clothes with one hand. The instant she did, something beyond the wall—not something so vague as that, but something thick and overwhelming, like an overboiled pot overflowing—approached.
She understood. A terrifying power—*the Witch's* power—was bearing down on them.
The same thing that had once blown Natsuki Subaru and
"You've got to be kidding…!"
Last time, it was the "Divine Dragon"
But now, for some reason, the "Divine Dragon" had left the tower together with Al, and there was nothing nearby capable of stopping it. Without the "Divine Dragon," clashing with the Witch's power and simply being blown somewhere seemed like an impossibly optimistic outcome.
In other words— "This is… where it ends?"
Meili let out a sigh at the prospect of such an anticlimactic conclusion.
Recognizing her own helpless exhale as though she were letting go of a burden, Meili then noticed that her arms were still pulling Petra closer.
Unconsciously, she was shielding Petra—against the Witch's power.
"You idiot… of a big brother…"
She didn't know what理由 had prompted that muttered complaint.
She only pressed her body over Petra's as if to muffle her own feeble voice with her ears. A shield made of this flimsy flesh would be of absolutely no use. She cursed herself for not having eaten more meat— —And then, just before the Witch's power reached the tower, something cut in between.
"————"
What happened beyond the wall remained just as unknowable.
But light and sound pierced through the tower's thick walls and blasted over Meili and the others inside.
"Aaahh!"
Screaming, Meili's body was slammed against the floor and the wall, Petra still clutched in her arms.
It was fortunate that they had happened to be near the wall and that Meili was lying flat on the ground. If not, both of them might have been thrown against the far wall with even greater force.
Still, her hair was disheveled, her clothes in disarray, and the room was a wreck with scattered belongings. Yet miraculously, neither Meili nor Petra appeared to have suffered any serious injuries.
"What… just happened…?"
"Lady Petra! Lady Meili! Are you alright!?"
Blinking against the haze in her eyes, Meili pushed herself upright. In her arms, Petra remained limp and unresponsive.
No sooner had she confirmed this than Flam burst into the room in a panic.
Flam—who had been carrying Garfiel and Ezzo to the lower levels ahead of Meili's discovery of the "Book of the Dead"—found them and her expression softened slightly before turning serious.
"It's the young master. The young master is holding her back."
"Holding her back…?"
"That means…"
"—The Witch of Envy, you mean?"
At the mention of that name, Flam's expression clearly blanched.
To see this woman—who hadn't been this shaken even when betrayed by Al and learning the "Divine Dragon" had turned against them—visibly etch fear into her eyes at that name, Meili murmured, "Sorry."
A natural reaction. Even Meili could only remain relatively composed because this was her second time.
Most people, upon sensing the "Witch of Envy" as a real and present threat, would feel their blood freeze throughout their body and become paralyzed.
"
Whether it was supreme resolve or simply the courage and nerve they happened to possess.
Either way, expecting everyone to have that same fortitude was unreasonable and absurd, so Meili stood up while supporting Petra.
"Swordsman" Reinhardt is out there fighting right now, right?"
"—. Yes. The young master is keeping her occupied. But if the young master can't push through…"
"…If we stay in here, we're just going to be in the way."
Meili didn't know the cause of the Witch of Envy's tantrums, but in her experience, both times had coincided with being inside the tower. Rather than considering herself the source of the Witch's anger—which she really didn't want to do—she figured it was best to assume the Witch simply didn't want them lingering in the tower.
And just as she thought that, a light poke on the back of her neck came from the red scorpion's pincer, which had crawled out from her clothes.
"Sorry, you were with us both times too, weren't you."
"Lady Meili! Let's leave the tower immediately. I'll carry Lady Petra—"
"—. No, it's fine. I'll carry Petra. Flam, could you please get
Meili shook her head slowly, declining Flam's offer, then hoisted Petra onto her back and slowly rose to her feet.
For a moment, Flam looked torn, but quickly nodded with a "yes" and headed out ahead of them.
"Down the spiral staircase! I'll have the dragon carriage ready!"
"Okay, thanks~"
Meili watched Flam's retreating figure disappear, then set off running after her.
Just before leaving, she felt a pang of hesitation about the belongings scattered throughout the room—particularly the "Book of the Dead," the cause of Petra's unconsciousness— "But that can wait."
Cheered on by the red scorpion's snapping pincer sounds as it settled back atop her head, Meili held Petra firmly to keep from dropping her and dashed out of the room.
If the contents of the "Book of the Dead" turned out to be truly necessary, she could ask Petra about it later—after Petra had safely and fully absorbed that someone's life.
With that thought, Meili ran with all her might. On her back, Petra—for whom a single tear spilled from beneath her long lashes and closed eyelids— And then— "I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Subaru…"
A faint, tearful apology that tore at a girl's heart.
The girl's anguished plea, as though begging the nightmare for forgiveness, was swallowed by the reverberations of the impossible clash between the "Swordsman" and the "Witch of Envy" echoing from beyond the tower, and never reached anyone's ears.
△▼△▼△▼△ "——Milk. Cold."
Aldebaran sat down heavily at the counter and placed his order with the shop's master.
It was the sole tavern in Millurra, the nearest town to the
That said, to conclude the shop wasn't popular on that basis alone would be rather narrow-minded.
After all, Aldebaran had visited the tavern during the liminal hours between deep night and early dawn—when both early risers and night owls were at their sleepiest, it was only natural for a rural tavern to be closed.
Yet the shopkeeper had opened the establishment for this off-hours visitor. Truly a considerate, reasonable person—the very model of someone in the hospitality trade.
"So, y'know, I respect your work ethic. I'm not about to do anything nasty to someone like that. I'll pay properly, too."
Propping his elbow sloppily on the counter, Aldebaran shrugged at the bearded shopkeeper.
The place apparently doubled as a residence—the shopkeeper had been roused from bed and was wearing pajamas, but Aldebaran wasn't about to criticize him for that. What he was protesting was the shopkeeper's apparent reluctance to actually get up and fetch his ordered milk.
But even about that— *"C'mon, honestly, everything you're saying just sounds like threats to me."* "Well, yeah, I guess it does."
*"See? Isn't the real reason people don't like you just that you show up at night, one-armed, wearing a helmet to hide your face?"* "You saying that's the biggest reason?"
The "Divine Dragon"—the most revered being in the Lugunica Kingdom—who spoke to him from the other side of the wall had manifested in a manner that was less "approachable" and more "thug-like," so really, what else could be expected.
Of course, Aldebaran's body couldn't exactly fit inside a tavern, so the "Dragon" had been made to wait uncomfortably out in the street. Whether that arrangement brought peace to the shopkeeper's heart was doubtful.
And so— the arrival of a suspicious late-night intruder and the "Divine Dragon" at a tavern constituted a rough summary of this unfortunate scene the shopkeeper had stumbled into.
"…Here's your milk."
Having taken ample time to compose himself, the shopkeeper finally set a wooden mug of milk on the counter. Aldebaran caught it with a "Thanks," then jerked his chin toward the outside.
"I hate to ask, but would you bring the fellow out there a bucket of water or milk or something? Not booze—I don't know what'd happen."
*"What, booze is fine. A legendary dragon being a lightweight isn't something that happens."* "Booze kills dragons in myths, right. I need you alive for a while longer. …Can't exactly be without a partner for the time being."
*"Sheesh—Master, hook me up!"* The "Aldebaran" that had been peering through the window withdrew his head with a tongue-click as loud as a gunshot. After watching this, the shopkeeper hesitated for a moment before finally resolving himself, shouldering a barrel and heading outside.
Noticing that one of the shopkeeper's legs was a prosthetic, Aldebaran regretted making such an inconvenient request. He should have carried the barrel himself.
He thought so—but— "…I'm seriously, abnormally, exhausted."
His body ached in every joint, but that was trivial compared to the sheer scale of his spiritual drain.
The degree of mental wear was as though he'd fought some immensely powerful enemy 132,044 times. —No, that had come out sounding too generous. The accurate version was: he'd lost 132,043 times in a row, and finally managed to finish things on the 132,044th.
He could roughly say that, as he had planned beforehand, he had succeeded in stalling the "Swordsman"
What he felt was a powerful sense of defeat, a vast sense of powerlessness, and a tiny— "…Relief that I got through it…?"
Aldebaran's objective—the two great obstacles—had been brilliantly held in check one and each, and yet all he felt in his chest was relief. At the end of the day, he was nothing more than a small fry.
Of course, calling it "brilliant" could only be taken as sarcasm. —At minimum, Aldebaran had already torn apart everyone in the tower, including Reinhard. And that number would only accelerate going forward.
The most critical crisis was still ongoing— "The 'Swordsman' and the 'Witch of Envy'… the battle of the century."
Lifting the chin guard of his helmet, Aldebaran drank from the mug of milk and murmured.
At the edge of his vision, through the window where the "Dragon" had withdrawn his head—flickering and visible from beyond, the aftershocks of an apocalyptic battle raged across the distant sea of sand.
A battle that tore through the night of that sand-sea again and again with blinding flashes of white, generating sandstorms visible even from afar while sounding a continuous, thunderous roar.
No matter how far removed from combat or how poor one's instincts, anyone would instinctively sense that such a sight was the same as what would unfold on the last day of the world.
And so—despite the hour being that ambiguous pre-dawn that could be called either night or morning—the residents of Millurra had risen from their beds, stepped outside, and were staring blankly at the spectacle beyond the sand-sea.
"————"
That battle would not end even after the sun began to rise and a new day started.
Until someone, somewhere, called it off, the people would continue watching the battle indefinitely. But it seemed likely they would stay right here without any catalyst to stir them.
This wasn't about a lack of awareness or a sense that it was someone else's problem.
It was simply that when humans are bathed in a light too vast for their own vessels to contain, they are blinded.
And once blinded, one cannot take wobbly steps onward. So in most cases, a blinded person follows the voice or presence of the very light that blinded them.
Blindly, as though drawn to the heat of a radiance so strong it sears the eyes.
And so—there could be no fault found with the people who stood frozen— "——Whoa, whoa~! Up close, you really are a 'Dragon'~! Honestly, I didn't realize for sure until I got this close!"
Suddenly, a shrill girl's voice sliced through the warlike tension in the air.
That incongruously bright, chirpy voice came from outside the tavern where Aldebaran was drinking his milk.
At the sound, Aldebaran slipped off his stool and turned toward the entrance.
The next instant— "——There you are, Aldebaran! Get out here right now!"
A red-haired man burst through the tavern entrance. Spotting Aldebaran, he stalked over with violent, rough strides.
Without hesitation, the man drew his sword and thrust the point directly at Aldebaran.
At such fierce resolve, Aldebaran raised one hand and said— "You said 'get out here,' but you can't exactly complain when I'm the one who comes to you."
"Don't twist my words! Forget about that—whoever was out front! That was definitely, without a doubt—"
"Whoever was out front?"
"Don't play dumb!"
The moment Aldebaran tilted his head, the man grabbed him by the collar as if to say the talking was over and hauled him to his feet, then shoved him out of the tavern entrance.
There was a sharp sensation of a blade pressed to his back, and though Aldebaran said, "There's no need for that, really," the other party wasn't listening.
It was understandable. —For this man, he was finally face to face with the existence he'd long wished for.
"Oh, Al-sama, you came out. …Why does it look like you're being taken hostage?"
"Seems like this one's got way too much blood in his head. Don't provoke him. I'm in danger."
"Oh, come on~. You never die no matter what you do, Al-sama~."
Saying this and waving cheerfully at Aldebaran—whose back still bore the blade's point—was a girl in a maid uniform with red as its base color and Japanese-style accents.
The cat-like, capricious girl spoke with easy familiarity. Aldebaran thought to himself that reality was far less casual than her tone suggested, but kept it to himself.
It would be pointless to say, and above all, she couldn't know—not her.
Anyway— *"This is gonna be one hell of a mess, isn't it?"* "Yeah, and you're sounding real casual about it, considering it ain't your problem."
Glancing up at the "Divine Dragon" who was looking down from his elevated position and laughing with amusement, Aldebaran let out a heavy sigh and retorted.
Then, turning around— "Man, what a reliable bunch."
— The "Aldebaran" who had stolen the "Divine Dragon's" dragon shell.
—
—
— Those were Aldebaran's "accomplices," those who stood with him against the world.
△▼△▼△▼△ ——Sixteen.
In the strategy to bring down the "Swordsman" Reinhard van Astrea, his father was a literal weak point and could serve as a trump card.
Whether Aldebaran wanted to use that trump card or not, setting aside his feelings, failing to prepare it would be unforgivable negligence. So he had properly courted his cooperation.
Heinkel had been at rock bottom for entirely different reasons, but as long as the pitch was constructed properly, he had the head to lend an ear.
Though they belonged to the same camp, Aldebaran and Heinkel were by no means on good terms. But his desire was consistent and easy to understand.
Call it single-minded devotion, perhaps. —For a man who had taken what Aldebaran both admired and deeply loathed as his core, a tangible reward after cooperation was remarkably effective.
Mind you— "—You promised me 'Dragon's Blood'! And right here, right in front of me, is the actual 'Dragon'! And you're *still* telling me to wait!?"
Bloodshot eyes, spittle flying—Aldebaran had imagined as much.
Heinkel, sword raised and pressing in with murderous intent—the tip of his blade was aimed at "Aldebaran," who lay docile as a chained dog in the town's street.
Strictly speaking, what the blade pointed at was the "Dragon's" chest—the heart within the dragon shell that pulsed with stored "Dragon's Blood."
—The "Dragon's Blood" brings bountiful harvests to the earth and can cure all illness in an instant.
It was a tale passed down since antiquity in the Lugunica Kingdom, said to be one of the three divine treasures the "Divine Dragon" had bestowed upon the Kingdom when the "Three Heroic Warriors" had defeated the "Witch of Envy" in ages past.
And it was the final drop of vital blood to have pulsed through the heart of a powerful "Dragon." With most "Dragons" having departed the surface, there were only so many ways to obtain it by conventional means.
The possibility of acquiring that "Dragon's Blood" was right before his eyes. —That fact burned with unbearable intensity in the soul of Heinkel Astrea, who had pursued miracles for over ten years.
"Finally… finally I can wake Luanna…!"
"…Your wife's name?"
"Yes. My wife… Luanna, who has been sleeping, sleeping for so long—I can wake her with the 'Dragon's Blood'! That's why I cooperated with you!"
"Yeah, I know you contributed and I acknowledge it. Fact is, thanks to you as insurance, your kid was kept in check."
"Then—!!"
Rather than a back-and-forth debate, it was more a matter of Heinkel's emotions running so far ahead that no rational conversation was possible.
Updating his internal matrix all the while, Aldebaran searched for the right words to calm Heinkel down— "Um, sorry to interrupt your heart-to-heart. But I've been wondering~—"
"What is it, maid? I'm in the middle of an important conversation with this guy—"
"That crackling, flashing light and sound over on the dunes—could that happen to be your son, Lord Heinkel?"
"—Huh?"
Shaking her hair—a hue blending vermillion and peach—Yae pointed toward the far end of the sand-sea, where the cataclysmic battle continued without pause.
Heinkel, who had apparently been conscious of nothing but the "Divine Dragon" he'd seen even in his dreams, blinked his blue eyes at the fierce battle— "…Hey, what the hell is that? Those two fighting over there—"
"Just as you'd imagine. The 'Swordsman' and the 'Witch of Envy.'"
"—! Wh-why… why did it turn into *that*!?"
Heinkel's eyes went wide in shock as he glared toward the sand-sea where his son and the "Witch" clashed. His shoulders began trembling, then— "This isn't what you told me! You said you'd use me to stop him! That was the deal—stop them right now! The Witch of Envy?! What kind of insane—!"
"Sorry, but I can't grant that request. Your payment is the 'Dragon's Blood.' Stopping things here wasn't part of the original terms. Can't do both."
"Guh… ugh…! Then—!"
"Then what?"
"—Ugh…"
He was furious, but the words wouldn't follow. His gaze wavered.
Aldebaran felt nothing but pity for the weakness of Heinkel's will. —He sympathized with Heinkel.
For he, too, was a clay figure tormented by fate, one who carried a family that exceeded his own stature.
Indifferent to Aldebaran's thoughts, Heinkel's sword tip rose and fell repeatedly— "Heinkel, sir, I absolutely refuse to be collateral damage, so could you please stop whining like a child?"
Having watched this go on long enough, Yae delivered a single frigid remark.
At those words, Aldebaran pressed his palm to his forehead while Heinkel's eyes bulged as he glared at her. Meeting his stare head-on, Yae tilted her head with a smile.
And with eyes that smiled nothing like her upturned lips, she fixed Heinkel with a cold stare.
"When you've decided to do something and then hem and haw about it afterward, that's just being a sore loser. If you've got two things you want and you reach for one, you obviously can't reach for the other at the same time. You're not a child."
"—! That kid could be any age and he's still a brat!"
"Oh dear, we're not getting anywhere~. —Al-sama?"
Yae looked at Aldebaran with an exasperated expression. Reading the meaning in her narrowed eyes, Aldebaran shook his head.
Yae didn't understand restraint. She was a woman who had never learned a way to deal with things other than killing.
So— "…Do me a favor."
*"Sure."* The next instant, the forearm of "Aldebaran" came crashing down, flattening the furious Heinkel from directly above and driving him into the ground.
"Whoa~" Yae's eyes went round at the tremendous rush of air, and before her lay the picture of Heinkel, face-down and half-buried in the earth.
"I feel bad for the old man, but I can't give him the 'Dragon's Blood' yet. Can't have the 'Divine Dragon's' heart stopped just now."
"You seem to have given him a pretty rough hit—Heinkel, sir, is dead, isn't he? That blow was enough to send even me to the brink."
*"He ain't dead. I didn't hold back… but he ain't dead. Always figured the old man was tough, but yeah, I see now."* "I haven't really checked properly, but this 'Divine Dragon' who talks exactly like Al-sama—what's the deal with that?"
"I'll explain later. No time to waste."
Answering Yae's question, Aldebaran crouched beside the buried Heinkel and moved to return the drawn sword to its sheath. —That was when.
"Oh—"
His wrist was seized, and Aldebaran held his breath. It was Heinkel—battered by what had apparently been a full-force blow even from the "Dragon."
Heinkel's eyes couldn't quite focus, but his gaze was piercing as it fixed on Aldebaran. Sensing the intent behind that look, Aldebaran exhaled and said— "I'll keep my promise about the 'Dragon's Blood.' And I won't let Reinhard get swallowed by the 'Witch of Envy.' —Trust me on that much."
"————"
Aldebaran's answer. Heinkel hadn't likely believed it from the bottom of his heart. But seeing Heinkel slump his head at those words, Aldebaran freed his captured wrist.
Then, glancing at Yae—who had been about to deliver a finishing heel—he said: "I'm beat, I've got one arm, and I'm delegating the old man-carrying to you."
"Does that leave me any choice? Because if it does, I choose no."
"It doesn't. That's an order. You carry him."
"Tch~ Al-sama, you're the worst~. Fine, fine~."
Yae stuck out her tongue and crouched to dig Heinkel out of the ground. Standing beside her as she worked, Aldebaran looked over at "Aldebaran" and said— "Said anything about the old man?"
*"Hm? Nah, nothing major. Just that he's hearty and tough."* "…Given the old man's position and personality, that sounds like a life full of suffering. Poor guy."
He was sorry things had come to this, but he genuinely hoped Heinkel would live as strongly as possible.
Heinkel's misfortune was considerable, but it wasn't the worst in the world. He didn't expect platitudes like that to land, nor did he believe they would.
"And besides, the kind of relationship where that kind of consolation would work is over now."
He had no right to feel regret over that, nor any standing to wish for atonement.
Knowing that, Aldebaran said no more on the matter. Instead, he addressed the girl at work— "Yae."
"Money."
"Worst opening line ever. Here you go~."
Yae rummaged in her pocket and tossed a leather pouch, which Aldebaran caught. He fished out a single gold coin, flicked it with his finger— "That includes inconvenience fee. Hold onto it."
He set it on the counter for the shopkeeper, who had been silently watching their exchange.
Beside "Aldebaran" was an empty water barrel—they'd fulfilled his order properly. It must have been quite the ordeal, but he'd managed to regroup with his accomplices and take a breather.
"That's my money, you know."
"Shut up. Just got here, but can you move right away?"
"Kunoichi training is insane. They make you run sleepless for half a month from the capital to your village on a single bamboo tube of water."
"Your insane ninja stories never get old."
She'd been through that kind of hell, so she probably meant to say this was nothing—but what reached Aldebaran was the memory of just how terrifying kunoichi were, and how thoroughly one of the Empire's most dangerous ninja had made his life miserable.
Anyway— "W-wait! …No, wait, please."
As Aldebaran and the others moved to leave, the shopkeeper called out to stop them.
It must have taken considerable courage to address this motley group, especially after the "Dragon's" violent blow moments earlier. The shopkeeper swallowed hard, then said to Aldebaran, who had turned around— "Could you… could you please stop that calamity? The one happening at the
"Yeah…"
At the shopkeeper's plea, Aldebaran fiddled with the seam of his helmet and sighed.
Looking around, he could see the residents of Millurra staring his way—no, at "Aldebaran"—from a distance, their eyes full of desperate hope.
In their eyes was fear and anxiety, but also reverence and expectation.
They had seen the legendary "Divine Dragon" Volcanica up close, and they believed it would stop the cataclysmic battle raging in the distance.
But— *"Sorry. Stopping that isn't my job right now."* "—!"
*"The 'Swordsman' was supposed to stop her no matter what, but even then, the aftershocks might reach here. Better to leave town for a few days."* "A few days… how many days is that…?"
Having received an answer that fell short of his hope in the very being he relied upon, the shopkeeper nonetheless persisted, searching for a reason to quell the turmoil in their hearts, pressing further.
Even if they were to leave the town, how long would they need to be gone?
That was— "—Seven days."
"————"
"In seven days, this will be over. —In seven days, the cause of the world's end will be removed."
With those words, Aldebaran turned his back on the shopkeeper, on the residents of Millurra, and walked away.
Behind him, Yae followed with the unconscious Heinkel slung over her back, and "Aldebaran" rose with a heavy creak of his frame and began walking too.
Aldebaran, who had made an enemy of the world, and his "accomplices"—they pressed onward.
Their steps must never stop.
"I'll keep going. —Because I'm me."