And so I rose to my feet.
The battle had devolved into chaos.
Both Father and Elisabeth surely had their own thoughts on the matter. I couldn't guess what they were, and more precisely, I didn't even try.
According to Father, Consul Elisabeth was the sole individual whose scheming prowess could rival his own. If I half-heartedly cooked up some ploy, it would almost certainly be seen through. That made the answer simple — it was better not to think at all.
"You there. Where do you think you're going?"
The man spoke. He was one of the Sword Lords assigned to watch over us siblings.
"I have somewhere I need to go."
"Don't wander off until the battle is settled. That should have been made clear beforehand."
No fewer than four Sword Lords were keeping tabs on us. It was proof that the silver-haired Consul was consumed by paranoia. Since I was doing nothing, the Consul's suspicion had only deepened. Even in this battle where the fate of nations hung in the balance, she had dispatched four Sword Lords to babysit me.
The saying about tripping over one's own cleverness — that applied to the Consul. By doing absolutely nothing, I had tied down a formidable fighting force in a useless role.
Father was the same way — the weakness of brilliant people was that they thought too much. They devoured themselves with their own thoughts. I looked at the Sword Lords and spoke.
"I said I have somewhere I need to go."
"Daisy..."
Luke scrambled to his feet.
"Are you really going?"
"I told you. This is the best way."
"B-But..."
Luke wore the expression of a rain-soaked puppy — pitiful and helpless. Something about it was almost endearing, so I took hold of his chin and pressed my lips lightly to his. Luke's eyes went wide.
I had sensed for some time that Luke had feelings for me. I was sensitive to people's emotions. Half a year ago, when Luke was invited to my bedchamber, his flustered demeanor had confirmed it.
But I had no intention whatsoever of responding to Luke's feelings. Not because we were siblings — I simply didn't have the luxury of worrying about Luke too. I drew my lips gently away from his and smiled softly.
"Take care of things for me, brother."
"......"
The words carried multiple meanings. Take care of Barbatos. Take care of Father. No matter how dense Luke was, he could have understood at least that much. I'm trusting you, Luke.
I turned my head and looked at the Sword Lords.
"From this moment on, I intend to execute my father. I will not tolerate any interference."
"What..."
"You're welcome to report it to the Consul. After all, the sole condition I placed when I defected was a request for help in executing my father. You've even gone so far as to prepare this battlefield for me. I'm grateful."
The Sword Lords' expressions darkened.
I gripped the Sword of Bael and turned toward the front lines. Sure enough, the Sword Lords moved to block my path. I regarded them with an expressionless face. This was the critical moment.
"I made it quite clear that I will not tolerate interference."
"Our mission is to keep watch over you. If you act rashly, we will judge it as causing chaos among the ranks and attempting treason."
"Treason, is it?"
I let a faint, cold laugh escape.
"I handed over Barbatos — the Habsburg Empire's Regent and the leader of the Plains Faction — to you. I cooperated unconditionally with intelligence as well. What further charges could you possibly have left? Even if I were to betray you now and return to the Empire, does anyone honestly think my life would be safe? You could stand to use your heads a little."
"......Do you actually have some kind of plan?"
"I'm going to punch straight through."
The Sword Lords' expressions soured further. I continued unperturbed.
"I am my father's mortal enemy. The moment I break through a section of his battle line, Father will throw every resource he has into capturing me. When that happens, the Imperial Army's formation will crumble. If the Consul is truly as capable as you believe, she won't let that opportunity slip by."
"That's... literally a suicide charge, isn't it? Whether it succeeds or not, you won't come back alive."
"Yes. That's correct. Is there a problem?"
"......"
The Sword Lords stared at me in silence. I held their gazes. I was the person who had deceived Father. With their level of perception, seeing through my act was impossible.
I didn't forget to leave behind a few words that might move them, from their perspective.
"The Demon Lord Dantalion destroyed my village. He took my father and mother hostage and massacred everyone else. For over five years, I endured every kind of torture night after night. And now, the time has finally come to settle the score."
"......"
"This is my last warning. Do not interfere with me. That is the only thing I ask of you."
I walked past the Sword Lords, my footsteps heavy and deliberate. One of them reached for my shoulder, but I brushed his hand away with a casual backhand.
Voices murmured behind me. The Sword Lords were hurriedly reporting to their superior. The key now was to move slowly, but with weight. If I rushed, it would only arouse suspicion where none existed.
Up ahead, the Republican and Imperial forces had fully engaged.
Cavalry on both wings clashed in a swirling melee while infantry traded blows in the center. The battle seemed roughly even, perhaps — but the Ogres running rampant had dealt a severe blow to Republican militia morale. They probably wouldn't hold much longer before breaking.
"......"
I gripped the Sword of Bael and drew a deep breath.
Between the first and second battle lines — in that long, narrow gap — I steadied my breathing.
The ceaseless shouts and screams, the clatter of blades striking blade, the sound of hooves grinding against corpses, the cacophony of every imaginable noise — all of it slowly faded away. They said a first-rate actor achieves a state on stage where the audience disappears entirely. It must have been something like that.
Now it was time to meet Father.
Before killing me, Father would always come in person to exchange a few final words. Hearing the last words of the one he was about to kill — if that was a habit of his, then it was one I could exploit. So I needed to reprogram myself one more time, thoroughly and completely.
I hate Father.
My name is Daisy von Custos. The Demon Lord Dantalion's forces massacred innocent villagers from my homeland, filling me with a desire for revenge. I exploited Laura de Farnese's secret affection to sow discord, ultimately orchestrating the death of the Demon Lord Paimon. Now I plunge into enemy territory to finish off my nemesis...
That was my role.
The part written for me alone in this world.
"......Good."
I looked up at the sky.
It was early morning. Ashen clouds veiled the heavens. Even where the clouds parted, the sky was the same shade of grey. Perhaps a downpour would come around noon. The sky, starved of sunlight, reminded me somehow of my childhood.
"A fine day to die."
A smile touched my lips.
Well — time to take the stage for the final act.
I charged toward the battle line without hesitation.
In an instant I swept past Ogres and knights alike, arriving at the brutal melee where militia and mercenaries clashed. I pressed off the ground and vaulted into the air, landing on one soldier's helmet before springing off again. Using the helmets as stepping stones, I crossed four leaps and found myself face-to-face with a forest of long pikes.
"A Sword Lord! A Sword Lord has appeared!"
The Helvetica mercenaries cried out in alarm at the sight of my movement.
"Don't let her break through! Block her!"
"Stab her!"
The mercenaries thrust their pikes forward in unison. I cast a quick glance in every direction, found the optimal path, and drew the greatsword through the air. I felt the long shafts snap clean through, the sensation traveling up through my palm.
The next instant, dozens of pikes the mercenaries had thrust toward me fell to the ground, all sheared in half. Their faces drained of color with horror.
"Monster...!"
Who exactly are they calling a monster?
I swung the greatsword with a smile still on my face. The ugly heads of dwarves spiraled through the air. For one brief moment, a gap opened in the Imperial battle line. I threw myself into it.
"Damn it — a Sword Lord's breaking through!"
"Stop her! Stop her somehow!"
The mercenaries discarded their pikes and drew swords. There was no room left to thrust. They seemed well accustomed to fighting in chaos — even in the tight confines, they brought their blades down toward me with precision. I checked my surroundings again in a sidelong glance.
Eleven blades attacked simultaneously.
Then thirteen more followed.
Even tracing the optimal path, blocking them all was impossible. At least one — and if I was unlucky, two — would reach my body. It was better to cleanly surrender what couldn't be defended. In the slow-flowing stream of time, I made my decision.
One breath.
"Die, monster!"
I dropped my waist low. Five blades sliced uselessly through the air above me. From that lowered stance, I swept the greatsword horizontally. Seven dwarves lost their legs below the knee.
Two breaths.
"GRAAAGH!"
"Don't stop! Push her back!"
One dwarf collapsed, dropping his blade. A dirk — relatively short but useful. I snatched it from the air with my left hand as it fell. Greatsword in my right, dirk in my left. Right blade angled up, left blade held level. I pivoted on one knee and spun.
"Khuurgh! My arm — my arm! AAAARGH!"
"I told you not to stop, you sons of bitches!"
Three breaths.
This time, a strike came along the path I had predicted. It couldn't be blocked or dodged. I let it land. A blade swung by a mercenary behind me grazed my back — barely — searing pain erupting along my spine.
"Got her! Now rush her all at once ——!"
But that was as far as it went.
Without turning, I gripped the dirk in a reverse hold and drove it downward. A wet crunch echoed as a skull shattered into pieces. At the same time, I swept the greatsword in a wide arc with my right hand. The greatsword cleaved through everything in its path.
Four breaths.
"Kkhurgh...!"
Three dwarves charging from the front dropped to their knees. Clean slash wounds marked their throats in unison. Swallowing the blood gushing from their necks, the mercenaries collapsed without a word.
I hurled the dirk one last time. The blade embedded itself gently in the forehead of the commander who had been barking orders throughout the fight. As gently as if the skull were a sword sheath. The dwarven commander's eyes bulged wide as he slowly toppled backward.
— Thud.
The commander's fall raised a small puff of dust.
I exhaled my fifth breath. Twenty-four corpses lay scattered around me. Silence descended abruptly — on this deafening battlefield, only this place had gone quiet.
"Ugh, uuh... aaah..."
The surrounding mercenaries took a step back. No matter how battle-hardened the Helvetica mercenaries were, watching an entire platoon wiped out in the blink of an eye would be enough to ignite fear.
"My name is Daisy von Custos."
I planted the Sword of Bael point-down before me.
"Brave soldiers of Helvetica. Please do not block my path. The only thing I can offer you is death."