It felt like being buried up to the neck in a dark place.
Endless soil and sand, a mixture of fine stones and grit that swallowed his feet to the ankles, then to the waist, then buried his chest and shoulders until nothing but his head remained above the surface.
Even that sole head left exposed would soon be covered by the cold dust settling steadily from above — it was only a matter of time.
He craned his neck upward with all his might, blowing desperately with each breath to scatter the settling dust, trying to postpone even a single second the moment he would be buried to the very crown of his skull.
Never once since birth had he known such constriction.
His heart had always been unsteady, like walking on the surface of water, but his body had never failed him. He was surely more agile than the average person.
To have that taken away — how powerless he was. He wanted to cry. But he didn't know how to cry. He was pathetic, unable to even weep properly.
Everything was lacking. And yet, there was something he wanted.
He had been so painfully unaware, but at last he realized — his own ravenous hunger.
And then — "——"
The sensation of dust raining down from above suddenly ceased.
What had been settling softly against his forehead, burying him grain by grain, stopped. In its place, a flickering blue-white light began to circle the area.
That light, darting about his field of vision with deliberate provocation, enraged him beyond words. He thrashed, and thrashed, and thrashed, and thrashed, until the arms of his buried body finally broke through to the open air.
As though fleeing from his reaching hands, the blue-white light drifted a little higher.
He wanted to corner it. To reach that height, he forcibly pulled his buried body free. Shoulders, chest, waist — just a little more.
At last, his toes came free. He raised his head to seize the blue-white light, and then he noticed.
A blazing, crimson flame burning bright and fierce, right before his very eyes.
And that the blue-white light he had tried to grasp was now clinging to his body, pushing him toward the mercilessly brilliant flame.
For an instant, he hesitated. Not from fear of the fire.
It was a hesitation over whether he — frozen cold as he was — was worthy of the blessing of being burned by that flame.
But that hesitation lasted only a moment.
It wasn't a question of worthiness. He wanted to be burned.
He wanted to be burned.
And so — "——Enough with the sleeping already. How long do you intend to make me wait?"
To be burned by that gentle flame, he took one step straight ahead.
He stepped forward — "...Princess. I tried my best."
"As expected. — Who do you think my milk-sister is?"
△▼△▼△▼△ — In that instant, the
She had generated an army of the corpse-born as a Great Calamity, used the countless trials and errors they performed to verify the nature of the soul, and employed that to reproduce the Witch of Greed — fulfilling the creative purpose given to her.
Furthermore, she had eliminated the Stone Mass
By doing so, Sphinx had schemed to extract some form of revenge, victory, retribution, superiority, transcendence, subjugation, overwhelm, sacrilege, submission, uprising, ruin, frenzy, ecstasy, happiness — in short, *something* — against Leiwipe Bariel, who had taught her the revolting, abhorrent "heat" within herself, using Priscilla, who had led him to his death, as the instrument.
All of it — every last fragment — collapsed. Completely, mercilessly, beyond all hope of recovery.
"——The Secret Relic of the Undying King—"
Sphinx had no choice but to acknowledge that it had lost its power.
Using the imperial capital of Lupgana as its center and five points to the north, south, east, and west of the Vollachian Empire — designated as anchoring points for the ever-mobile Stone Mass — magic circles had been laid. Through the blood soaked into the Empire's earth as a medium, the Secret Relic of the Undying King had been used to continuously resurrect the dead.
But even that ended the moment the enormous mana supply from the Stone Mass was severed.
"'Spirit Eater'
It was an impossibility, yet from the events that had occurred, there was no other inference to be drawn.
Arakiya had been supposed to absorb and detonate a Great Spirit of such overwhelming magnitude that it defied comprehension. But through the subjugation of the swordswoman who wielded the Dream Sword Masayume, and through her own unfathomable tenacity, Arakiya had brought that Great Spirit completely under her dominion.
There was no longer any distinction between "Spirit Eater" Arakiya and the Stone Mass Muspel.
And Arakiya had no reason to betray the Vollachian Empire and cooperate with the Great Calamity.
From this point forward — "The corpse-born will no longer resurrect."
The premise collapsed — the immortal army, the endless hordes of the dead who rose again and again even after dying.
Even if the supply from the Stone Mass was cut, that did not mean the corpse-born would immediately lose their lives. The conditions had merely become the same — the same as those governing the living, who died and simply stayed dead.
"——!"
It took roughly five seconds for the mana supply to the magic circles to be severed and for Sphinx to process the situation.
But in those precious five seconds, the thirty-six remaining bodies of Sphinx were reduced by seven more, bringing the count down to twenty-nine.
Moving with extraordinary speed and combat power, the "Blue Lightning" and "The Worshipper" were too strong.
Sphinx — the creator, the one who should have been able to reproduce the Witch of Greed's abilities — was utterly powerless against them. She couldn't lay a finger on them. They were not even opponents whose numbers she could overwhelm.
She wanted to do something about it, but it was not only those two who held the Witch in check.
Therefore — "—Withdrawal is necessary."
At this point, the Witch Sphinx concluded that the abandonment of her plan was the most rational course.
It was a plan launched from a position of absolute security, with every contingency accounted for and every preparation complete. But to have it overturned to this degree — plan revision was no longer possible.
Bitter as it was, she had to accept it on the strength of having achieved one of her two great objectives. In truth, the creative purpose given to her by her creator across such a long span of time had been fulfilled. The goal pursued for over three hundred years and the goal desired for just over a year could not possibly hold equal value.
"—Withdrawal is necessary."
In the first place, this had never been a situation where the scales were balanced.
She reaffirmed what she had been created for. What was demanded was the Witch of Greed's re-advent — and that was assuredly being fulfilled.
Her current Sphinx identity would be overwritten, transformed into the Witch of Greed,
She would be remade. The creative purpose would thus be fulfilled.
Sphinx would vanish, Echidna would rise, and the days of obsession spanning over three hundred years would end.
To wish for more was not rational. Not rational. Not rational.
Not rational, and yet — "——"
In that instant, the Yang Sword raised aloft blazed with blinding light, proclaiming its presence across the entirety of the imperial capital.
It was a provocation — directed at the Witch who had resolved to retreat — that defied all logic: scorching the separate dimension, forcibly returning to the capital's sky, and transcending the future that should have seen it torn asunder.
A woman dressed in a blood-red gown, with hair bright as the sun, radiating a brilliance like flame, living in the only way she could — by burning others to ashes — smiled.
"—Come, Sphinx. I am your enemy."
In that instant, all twenty-nine bodies of the Witch Sphinx resolved themselves.
And that resolve was — "—*I* am your enemy, Priscilla Bariel!!"
△▼△▼△▼△ "If she escapes, she will undoubtedly become a scourge upon the world. In principle, I do not interfere with changes to the state of the world. —However, she has designated me as her fate."
Stepping down from Al's arms with the crumbling stone and earth behind her, Priscilla spoke those words.
Her figure — the very embodiment of insolent pride — was so filled with commanding presence that one could hardly believe she had been a captive moments before.
Her words were so forceful that even Al, who had charged in ahead, seemed momentarily cowed.
"So the princess is going to fight her? What's the need for that? We just gotta surround someone that troublesome and beat 'em dow — OW!"
"Fool. When you resort to any means to take a life, you grant the same option to your opponent. Before that creature names the world as its enemy, this battle must be decided."
"...Otherwise, we can't win?"
Arakiya tilted her head beside Priscilla, who had folded her arms in a way that emphasized her ample figure. Arakiya held a flame in her right eye while pressing her left eye — stained red with blood — with her hand. At Arakiya's question, Priscilla merely shrugged with exasperation.
"Arakiya, don't you start spouting the same foolishness as Al. Was the me you know ever one to place weight on such shallow matters as winning or losing?"
"But, Princess, you do like winning. You look happier when you win."
"That is only natural. That is who I am."
"Don't undermine your own premises! It's getting confusing!"
Priscilla was engaging in a thoroughly unreasonable exchange with Arakiya, and unable to keep silent, Subaru couldn't help but interject.
Leaning forward with the momentum of his outburst, Subaru's intensity caused Priscilla to narrow her crimson eyes.
"What now, you? There is no role in this for a brat like you. Be gone."
"Sorry about that! I may look like this, but I'm
"To call such a brat a knight — it seems that half-demon's staffing problems are truly dire. If anything, that loudmouthed fool would have been preferable."
"That's me! That's so me!"
The sheer injustice — beyond even what he had aimed at Arakiya — made Subaru forget his entire body's exhaustion and shout.
Subaru knew Priscilla deleted from her memory anyone she found uninteresting, but even if it wasn't to the extent of Al, Shult, or that sis-con Abel, Subaru had been worried enough about her to warrant some recognition.
Just as Subaru pressed forward, wiping the blood from his nose — "—Fool."
"Huh?"
"Learn to distinguish jest from seriousness. —Natsuki Subaru."
"—Ah."
Still with arms folded, her expression unchanged, Priscilla spoke those words. The instant their meaning sank into Subaru's brain, heat engulfed his entire body.
But it was not anger at being toyed with. It was a kind of emotion — *moved*.
That Priscilla Bariel had remembered his name, and called him by it.
"...I feel like the old me who got his jaw shattered has been vindicated."
Suppressing the welling emotion, Subaru merely touched his jaw and left it at that.
There was not a second to spare for further exchange — not for anyone in the imperial capital.
For that reason — "—She must be made to understand. What you should be gazing upon is not the world, but me."
The moment she finished speaking, Priscilla unfolded her arms and raised the Yang Sword in her right hand to the sky.
Then, without any explanation, the Yang Sword's radiance surged dramatically, and a blinding brilliance — as if a new sun had been born — scorched Subaru and the others' eyes. No — though its luminosity was tremendous, it did not bring the agony of staring directly at the sun.
"The Yang Sword cuts what I decree to be cut, and burns what I desire to be burned."
With that renewed explanation of its extraordinary nature, Priscilla smiled, holding the dazzling treasure sword — a glimmer detectable from anywhere in the capital — in her hand.
Smiling, she directed her provocation not at those present, but at the one who should be paying attention to her.
"—Come, Sphinx. I am your enemy."
"——"
That this was a trap Priscilla had laid — Subaru understood it instinctively.
Sphinx, who had tried to abduct Abel and bring him to Priscilla, was fixated on her for some reason. And that fixation had grown during contact with the captive Priscilla. Or perhaps Priscilla had guided her to become that way.
Either way — "—*I* am your enemy, Priscilla Bariel!!"
That the Witch had accepted Priscilla's declaration of war was palpable from the tension that gripped the battlefield.
And Subaru could not laugh at that conclusion — so devoid of logic or reason, driven purely by emotion.
No living creature could ignore the sun when challenged by it.
"Al, I leave this to you. Arakiya, come with me."
"—Got it."
"Right, Princess."
In short, irresistible commands from Priscilla — and Al and Arakiya responded accordingly.
One left to hold the ground, the other asked to follow. And to Subaru — who was neither — Priscilla turned.
"Natsuki Subaru."
"Y-Yeah. I'm — "
"You spoke of a hero's delusion, did you not?"
"——"
The shock of hearing his name again was immediately dispelled by her next words.
The resolve and determination that Subaru and Al had exchanged between them — what they had to carry, what they had to uphold in this empire and in the world to come.
If spoken aloud, it was the sort of thing that would invite ridicule from people stronger than Subaru. But Priscilla, he sensed, would not laugh at it.
"—Do what you must do."
Subaru's instinct was confirmed by Priscilla's single utterance.
He felt her words press against his back, against his soul, and Subaru fell silent. But Priscilla did not wait for a reply. Having said only what she wished to say, she turned her back.
Arakiya embraced Priscilla's slender waist, and the two of them rose into the air.
And as Priscilla soared upward alongside Arakiya — "Princess! Just like always, okay?!"
"That is only natural. Who do you think I am?"
"Priscilla Bariel! You're my princess!"
"Whoever said I was yours? Fool."
She threw Al's words back at him, leaving only the faintest trace of a parted-lip smile before Priscilla took flight.
Priscilla and her companion moved away from Subaru and the others — no, to be precise, they were not moving away from Subaru. They were distancing themselves from the Witch, who was held captive here.
"——"
Subaru and Al turned. Before them, slumped against a shattered wall, sat the Witch. Her entire body was bound in black light, her movements sealed.
It was similar to the seal that had been placed on the Great Sin Archbishop of Gluttony,
Facing this power-sealed Witch was Subaru's role.
"Subaru! I found them!"
Just as Subaru steeled himself,
That person was
"Keeping both hands free is the logical thing for a magician to d — actually, is this really okay?"
"Don't be difficult! Come, Spica, let's go!"
"Eah, au!"
At Beatrice's urging, Spica kicked off Roswaal's back and landed on the ground beside Subaru. He patted the head of the girl who looked up at him, and Spica squirmed with ticklish delight.
Then, taking her hand, he turned back to face the Witch.
And — "Spica, your stomach's probably bloated and you've got heartburn, but one last push, okay?"
"Mm!"
Spica answered bravely, showing her pointed teeth in a smile. Relying wholly on that courage, Subaru fixed his gaze on the Witch.
The Witch bore the face of the most vile Witch in existence — and she looked back at Subaru with those same features. Those dark eyes narrowed, the Witch smiled, and spoke.
"Can you capture my soul?"
In her immobilized state, the Witch spoke — she who always held the power of life and death in her hands, even now.
To that Witch's challenge, Subaru called to mind the sensation of Spica's hand in his, the presence of Al nodding beside him, Beatrice fighting alongside Roswaal to clear a path for him, all the allies who had helped rescue Priscilla from her fall, and the warm ice flower that had been his final gift — "Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not the one defeating you. *We* are."
"——"
With that, Subaru took one step closer to the Witch, Spica at his side.
Then, together with Spica, he reached out and touched the Witch's cheek — "—Sphinx."
To consume the existence of the Witch as a corpse-born, he undertook the final Star Eater.
△▼△▼△▼△ — The instant the orbs of light rained down one after another, Vincent scooped up Medium beside him and leaped from the upper floors of the Crystal Palace.
"Wahya!?!" Medium shrieked as Vincent caught her by her slender waist, careful not to drop the injured Madelin in his arms, and burst through to the outside.
At the same time, he directed his awareness toward the out-of-reach opponent also present — "Olbart Dunklecken!"
"I don't need you to tell me!"
Immediately after, the artillery platform of the Magic Crystal Cannon they had just leaped from was blown to pieces.
Bathing in the high-altitude wind, Vincent instructed Medium to "hold on." Feeling her arms tighten around him instinctively, he kicked off the wall with tremendous force.
The momentum carried them away from the pursuing beam of light, and they descended to the ground.
"Oho, dangerous, dangerous. Well, at this point, there's nothing left for this old shinobi to do except die of old age, wouldn't you say?"
"Indeed. I've never heard of a shinobi dying of natural causes."
"When you're too old to be useful, the standard shinobi move is to hand you a magic stone and have you blow yourself up!"
"Oh! Stop telling scary stories and put me down! Put me doooown!"
Despite having lost both arms, Olbart was in high spirits. Vincent exchanged words with him while Medium, kicking her limbs about, was set down on the ground.
Now with both hands free, Vincent gripped the Yang Sword once more and looked up.
There — "—The Witch."
In Vincent's field of vision, a white-haired woman descended onto the artillery platform.
The magic core had been lost, and a great deal of the castle's magic crystal had been siphoned off for the large-scale ritual. Yet the Witch had still alighted there, because that was where her objective lay.
What was the Witch plotting, once she had displaced Vincent and the others?
"—
"Oh? What are you talking about, Your Excellency? Mooglag's body was carried off by Balroy. And yet — "
"Fool. What was taken was merely the magic core. The castle still retains the *Metia* known as *Meteora*, minus its core — "
"— Abel!"
A thunderclap of realization struck Vincent's shoulders as Medium, her face drained of color, slapped them and pointed at the castle.
In response to that stimulus, the Crystal Palace underwent a new transformation. — Slowly, the Crystal Palace itself rose to its feet.
"——"
Moguro Hagane was the *Metia* called the Crystal Palace — the very symbol of the Vollachian Empire.
The magic core had served as both the control unit and power source for this *Metia*. It had been dismantled, and the rampaging core's explosion had been carried out to the distant sky.
In short, the entity recognized as Moguro Hagane — one of the Nine Divine Generals — was merely a portion of that colossal *Metia*. Even during the battle for the capital before the Great Calamity, Moguro had demonstrated his full power. The defensive mechanism originally designed to protect the magic core remained.
The Witch exploited this. By forcibly activating the defensive mechanism that had lost its original purpose upon the magic core's destruction, she had awakened a giant of steel — no, a giant of magic crystal.
The Crystal Palace risen from its foundations — this could only be called a Magic Crystal Colossus — shared certain features with Moguro Hagane as an individual, but its malevolent presence defied comparison.
Standing fifty meters tall or more, with most of its structure composed of hardened magic crystal, it was essentially a colossal bomb given legs.
"If we engage it carelessly — "
The meaning of the sacrifice Moguro and Balroy had made would be rendered utterly meaningless.
And just as Vincent ground his teeth — "Strike."
"Right, Princess."
She had not raised her voice particularly. And yet, it carried with absolute clarity.
The moment it seemed to have passed overhead, a fist of titanic flame — wreathed in light, some ten meters across — shot forth and struck the Magic Crystal Colossus head-on.
A tremendous shockwave of heat spread across the sky and the ground. The colossus staggered backward, and the streets below were swept away as if a great army had trampled them.
It was an absurdly excessive and recklessly bold blow.
"Reckless, you say. As if I had not thought it through."
"——"
"Ah~! Priscilla-chan!"
The Magic Crystal Colossus reeled. The one who had thrown the flame fist was Arakiya, hurtling through the air at high speed, clad in the brilliance of a diamond.
Releasing Arakiya's hand, the woman who descended with the hem of her dress fluttering — Priscilla — was pointed out by Medium in a high voice.
"Abelin, Abelin! It's Priscilla-chan!"
"You need not shout so loud. I can see. — Where were you held captive?"
"Sisterly as it sounds, that's no way to greet someone after an emotional reunion. I was in another dimension. The Witch took me along with the castle's underground prison — spirited away to another world."
"I see. That explains why you couldn't be found. How did you get out?"
"Burned my way out, naturally."
At Priscilla's curt reply, Vincent almost felt a twinge of amusement.
She had been a captive, subjected to who knew what by the Witch — yet here she was, appearing at the final stage with regal composure — "— Priscilla, you — "
A fleeting dissonance sprouted at the edge of his thoughts. He moved to ask Priscilla about it, but before the question could take shape, the Magic Crystal Colossus's counterattack cut him off.
Arakiya, circling through the air, disrupted the colossus with extraordinary force.
To bring Arakiya down, the entire body of the Magic Crystal Colossus began to glow, and from what served as its right arm, a beam of annihilating fire was unleashed.
Inferior to the full power of the Magic Crystal Cannon, perhaps, but more than sufficient to obliterate a single life — or half the capital. It targeted Arakiya through the sky, targeting, targeting — "—Incoming!"
To shield Arakiya — while scanning for the opening to intervene — Vincent saw the same resolve in Priscilla's eyes and raised the Yang Sword.
In the same instant, from the colossus's free left arm, the opposite of the one targeting Arakiya, a beam of annihilation was fired with merciless precision at Vincent and the others.
"——"
With Medium and the others behind them, Vincent and Priscilla stood with Yang Swords braced. The dazzling radiance of the crimson treasure swords rose as flame, meeting the onslaught of light head-on in a fierce clash.
But with battle following battle without pause, with the kindling of fighting spirit burning on and on despite exhaustion — blood seeped from Vincent's hand where it gripped the Yang Sword.
"What's this? How unbecoming, brother. You should rally yourself."
"I said you, who only recently rested, should be the one to exert yourself."
"My, to think that even after once being poisoned and killed, then driven from your homeland, your own sister would still be treated so roughly — you really have become the Vollachian Emperor, haven't you, brother?"
Tit for tat, exchanging barbs amid a life-or-death clash of annihilating light — Vincent gritted his back teeth and tightened his slackening lips.
He would admit it. It was pleasant. His heart surged at the return of Prisca — no, Priscilla. Even her merciless vitriol served as fuel for his fighting spirit.
Steadying himself, Vincent and Prisca stood their ground — and then — "—Children of my child. It is an honor."
In that instant, an impossible third Yang Sword joined the clash. For one beat, the light exploded, and the standoff ended. The one responsible was the Thorn King — who had returned with a roar, unleashing an artistic flash.
With not a trace of imperfection in its grace, Yugurd Volakia had entered the battle.
"I was sent from my star to deal with the Crystal Palace risen from its foundations. The shimmer of magic crystal is beyond anything but the Yang Sword to counter. It is not a failing of yours."
"I need not add that to the refrain. You have my thanks for the aid."
"Hmm. — My mother's beloved husband, and the Thorn King at that."
At Yugurd's words, Vincent closed one eye in acknowledgment, while Priscilla regarded him with a different emotion from gratitude for the assistance.
Vincent knew that Priscilla, a lover of books, had read *Iris and the Thorn King*. Of course, Vincent — who had not known Yorna = Sandra, or that Iris = Yorna — possessed different knowledge from Priscilla.
Regardless, as Priscilla studied Yugurd with open curiosity, Yugurd narrowed his eyes in turn.
"You too are a current-generation member of the imperial family. You remind me of my empress … Teriola."
"—Hmph."
Priscilla received Yugurd's evaluation with unusual brevity.
For Priscilla, who was known to despise being compared to others, this reaction gave Vincent a faint sense of incongruity. He didn't think Priscilla was the type to get fluttery over meeting a fairy-tale character, but still.
Regardless, the three of them stood together here: Vincent, Priscilla, and Yugurd.
"Three Yang Swords outside the Imperial Selection Ceremony — this is beyond reason."
"Indeed. In all of history, multiple Yang Swords have never manifested except in the form of siblings confronting one another. And certainly not directed against an enemy of the Empire."
As both Vincent and Yugurd agreed, it was an impossibility made real — born from the actions of the Great Calamity that resurrected the corpse-born, and from Vincent's own defiance of the Imperial Selection Ceremony that governed the succession of the Vollachian Empire.
"To reach the final reckoning and become so moved — my brother and the Thorn King have their composure about them."
Vincent and Yugurd nodded to each other. Standing between them, Priscilla let out a sniff.
Wielding her brilliant treasure sword with regal bearing, Priscilla cut a figure of living flame. At the sight, Vincent and Yugurd exchanged glances once more, then faced forward.
"Abelin! Priscilla-chan! Yorna's husband!"
Behind the three of them, Medium — still carrying the injured Madelin and supporting the wounded Olbart — raised her voice louder than ever before.
Louder than she ever had, louder than anyone in the entire capital — "—Do your best!!"
At those words, Vincent allowed a smile at the corner of his mouth, Yugurd gave a deep nod, and Priscilla, her crimson eyes blazing, gazed up at the Magic Crystal Colossus.
"Naturally. — Enjoy my sword dance to your heart's content."