1

A brazier’s subdued hum and crackle was the only indicator of the passage of time. The tops of the innumerable apartment buildings peered over the city wall in the distance like mischievous children, and the dense curtain of nightly darkness veiled all of the land. Between the facing walls, the earth plunged into the dry moat under the bridge, the bottom of which could not be discerned from the height of the wall. Only black.

Izumi avoided looking down and faced the parapet of the gatehouse terrace in silence. It was a clear night, without clouds, the foreign stars clearly in view, but no less distant than the ones at home.

“I don’t see why I should also be punished when I’ve done nothing wrong,” the man a few steps off to her left said, observing the same view. There was the slightest suggestion of blame in his normally cordial tone.

“If you can’t tell what you did wrong, then you really are beyond help,” Izumi snapped back, anger stirring in her again.

“I was merely defending myself and sought to end the conflict as quickly as possible. The Marshal is rather unreasonable to think I shouldn’t have reacted at all whilst under attack.”

“You didn’t exactly turn down the challenge either, smartass.”

“Whatever brought it about, anyway?” He ignored her dangerous tone and continued. “The timing was not very wisely chosen, if I may say so.”

“Will you just shut up?”

Izumi resolved not to take any further part in the jarring conversation and peered over the embrasure, down at the bridge between the two gates. Nothing moved on the narrow strip of stone, nor in the city ahead. It seemed like baiting fate, leaving only two people to watch the main entrance, but the gate and the spells upon it had already demonstrated their effectiveness. If daemons could get through, around, or over the barrier, they would have done so already, no doubt. The main responsibility of the two was merely to ring the alarm bell if they spotted anything suspicious, not fight back invading hostiles on their own.

Still, the watcher’s responsibility was not too light either. If either of them made a mistake, they could all die and mankind would be doomed—it was one high-stakes lesson on the necessity of cooperation. Personal grievances felt petty next to it.

Although the choice of a partner didn’t make it one bit easier to endure.

“You are angry with me?” Arnwahl asked.

“You only just noticed?” Izumi exclaimed, against her earlier intention to ignore him.

“No, it is plain enough to see. It is the cause that escapes me. Lady Millanueve herself insisted she held no ill will for me. Then why should you? As far as I can tell, the incident had naught to do with yourself. Do explain how I have offended you, when we have scarcely met or spoken in all week?”

“Work it out for yourself, geez…” she groaned.

“I’d love to. But I have to admit, the finer nuances of other people’s emotional life, particularly those of females, have always been something of a mystery to me. Right when I think I’ve begun to perceive a method in their madness, they defy expectations once again. Truth be told, I have long ceased trying to make sense of it. I am quite sure there is nothing so irrational in myself.”

“Maybe that’s the whole problem.”

“What do you mean?”

Unable to hide the disgust in her tone, Izumi answered, “Can’t empathize with others or relate to their perspective, always putting your own self first—in my world, there’s a specific word for people like you.”

“Really?” he asked, earnest curiosity in his tone. “What is it?”

“’Psychopath’.”

Arnwahl reflected for a moment and nodded.

“Hm, I see. I rather like the sound of that. Yes, I am a psychopath. In all sincerity, I can only be glad for being spared of something that drives people to behave in such irrational, self-harming ways, against their own best interest. I reckon it is for being without such baggage that I’ve made it as far on the Path as I have. But here I imagined you were the same. Your ability is indisputable. I doubt you acquired your skill by common measures. No, one cannot possibly gain such a talent for slaughter, if she were slowed down by any considerations for those beneath her.”

“You sure love the sound of your own voice,” Izumi grumpily replied. “I told you to zip it.”

“Pardon me. I am merely trying to make clear the causes of this quarrel, so that it wouldn’t happen again. Since, as the Marshal kindly reminded us, it would be a great loss to our overall combat strength if either one of us perished.”

“A little too late for the white knight act...”

The spite in her words silenced him for a quarter hour, and they continued to watch the unchanging scenery in the pale light of the twin moons. The closer one was halved by the planetary shadow, only but a seed in the sky, while the other one showed full on the opposing side. Both depressingly furtive and far.

Arnwahl spoke again.

“If you detested me so, then how come you didn’t kill me?”

Izumi frowned at him. “What?”

“You didn’t use magic even once. Had you employed the runes you used to take down the daemon in the city, I doubt I could have done much to defend myself. That is what I find most mystifying. Your intent to kill was apparent, and you were prepared to throw away everything in the effort—yet, at the same time, you clearly held back. Why is that?”

Izumi exhaled a heavy sigh. “When did I say I wanted to kill you?”

“Hm?”

“I said I was going to teach you a lesson. Whether you deserve to die or don’t—let’s just say I’m still undecided on that. You may be an obnoxious creep, and what you did wasn’t something I can forgive and forget. But it’s also true that no one’s dead. Unfortunately, just being sick in the head isn’t enough a reason to earn the capital punishment. I wanted to see if pushing you a bit would take you over the line and make you show your true colors. But you kept holding back the whole time too.”

“…What makes you say that?”

“You barely used a fraction of that crazy sword’s power. The amount of power released correlates with the length of the blade that catches light, doesn’t it? By what I saw, you could probably level half the castle if you discharged the full yield. But you didn’t. Moreover, you kept missing me by a hair. Probably to protect yourself from the repercussions, rather than for my sake. But, whatever the reason, you didn’t cross the line. So in the end, I couldn’t cut you either.”

Arnwahl took a moment to consider her explanation.

“In other words,” he then said, “you put your rank and privileges as a champion of the Empire on the line, your personal liberty, all for the sake of...teaching me a lesson? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t give a rat about any of that,” she muttered. “I didn’t ask to be made a champion or whatever. It was only a necessary evil. If they think they can get by without me, then let them. I wouldn’t mind quitting this pain of a job at the first opportunity, if there ever came any.”

“Is that so?” The man remarked. “Still, to have deduced as much by so little, you are every bit as formidable as I thought. But why limit yourself so by notions of fairness, if not for the benefits it earns you from other people? There are very few in the world who can be called fully evil. You are only taking on unreasonable, potentially fatal handicaps if you cannot cut down your enemy before you first ascertain their nature. You would be capable of soaring yet much higher on the Path if you let go of such pointless considerations. If you have the necessary strength to eliminate your opponent and a fit opportunity, then no more reason should be required to follow through with all of your might.”

Izumi responded to this with another long sigh.

“You really are an unbelievable creep.”

“Huh?”

“It wasn’t a mindless murder hobo I wanted to become when I was little,” she said, turning her bitter gaze back to the dark city of the dead ahead.

“I wanted to be a hero.”

2

If the daily patrols had been tedious, the solo duty that times ten. The two weren’t allowed to leave the gate-side castellations, but could only move along the length of the wall from corner to corner. Neither were they allowed to lose sight of one another. The night was cold and marching the windy wall-walk, even for a change of pace, was not pleasant. Most of the time, they stood at the gatehouse terrace, where they could view the bridge in full, had some shelter from the wind, and the brazier for warmth.

The other walls had their regular watches, but no one was allowed to see or speak to the champions while their punishment was in progress. It wouldn’t have been much of a reparation if it became a picnic with friends. But Izumi was not a young, hardened knight, and after a week with poor food and sleep, she was beginning to feel the punishment. The earlier scuffle had left her drained. The bruises on the hip and side weren’t bad, but gave reminders of their existence each time she moved. The dull ache was all that kept her from dozing off on her feet.

She could’ve refreshed herself with Ohrm, but hesitated to cast the rune in Arnwahl’s sight. He was not perhaps an “enemy” now, but who could say what the future might bring? After all she had learned about him, she remained strictly convinced that he would add nothing good in her life. Showing him any more of her cards was guaranteed to backfire before long. To preserve her minuscule advantage, she endured the pain and fatigue, but it made her irritable and restless.

Still a full week left before Mai-chan gets here...I’m not going to last.

And she was hungry. She’d had nothing but a cup of tea the whole day, and had missed dinner thanks to the earlier episode. She couldn’t exactly leave and get a sandwich either. They’d put her in chains.

Izumi glanced at the knight next to her. He didn’t seem any different from usual. The magic of youth?

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked him in annoyance.

“Me?” Arnwahl stirred. “No, not in particular. I had a hearty breakfast and I’m used to only one meal per day.”

“That so?”

“You shouldn’t skip out on breakfast. It is the most important meal of the day.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, damn it!”

“My, have I upset you again? You are an even more difficult person than I thought.”

“Look who’s talking!”

Izumi regretted speaking up. She continued to stand and stare at the unchanging urban landscape. The fantasy city had begun to lose its luster over the days. Not even a solitary bat could be seen swooping over the clear rooftops. All was still, save for the gale which blew from the south, searing and cold and seemed to pass straight through to the bone. It was nothing compared to the winds of Eylia, perhaps, but not a joy either. Izumi pulled her jacket tighter on and added another log into the brazier. Due to the shortage of wood, they had to let the fire burn out almost completely before refilling, or their small stock would run out. But the winter night was torturously cold. She took off her sword from the magnetite holder, and set it against the parapet, and stood warming her hands against the revived flames.

“Are you sure you should let go of your weapon?” Arnwahl observed her and asked. “The enemy might fall upon us at any given moment.”

“It’s heavy,” she mumbled.

“It does seem like a weapon ill-suited for a woman,” he continued. “Have you ever considered changing to something lighter?”

“As soon as I find one that’s also unbreakable, I will.”

Time crawled on. They stood in the fire’s limited circle of light, their backsides barely any warmer than the front and stared into the night. To maintain the illusion of being occupied, there were fires also in the corner towers in the north and south. When they saw the lights in the top windows begin to fade, they had to make the trip to add wood in the braziers, and then hiked back. And so the night passed, in silence, and it was as if the world had ended already.

Izumi stood using her sword for a crutch, trying to appear dignified, yet barely conscious anymore. Right as she began to think she would turn into a frozen statue and remain the same way forever, the scenery began to show gradual signs of change. Each time she stirred from her daze and looked out, the shadows had become ever so slightly less black than they had been before, and the stars a little fainter, and the twin moons had moved out of view.

Little by little, light was coming back.

The long watch was nearing its end and with it their honor thereby ransomed.

Like a ghoul stirring at the approach of a graverobber, she stretched her arms, yawned wide, and asked, “Is it time yet?”

“No,” Arnwahl replied, the same as ever. “The Captain will come free us at six. I’d say we still have about half an hour left.”

“Well, after twelve hours, that’s practically nothing.”

Izumi rubbed her numb hands and kicked her legs, eager to get indoors to warm up and sleep. Their fire was out, all the wood spent, but it wasn’t that cold anymore. She watched the world grow visibly brighter by the minute. The frosty sky assumed tones of faint blue, still clear of clouds, and the thick rime stuck on the walls and the bridge glittered in the diffused light. Then, she felt something shift.

The shapeless awareness beyond the city wall was on the move. Izumi tensed in alarm and took a step closer to the parapet. The sun had yet to cross the level of the mountains, but the buildings on the other side could be seen in full detail now. There was still no sign of motion, on the city wall or the bridge, yet she felt in her bones that the enemy’s attention was upon them. What were they up to?

“What is it?” Arnwahl noticed her tense expression and asked.

Izumi didn’t answer. She stared at the wide open city entrance and watched a solitary figure emerge, highlighted by the glow of morning.

A cold dread seized her heart. “Ha…?”

Arnwahl saw it as well.

“What is that?”

What they saw had to be a daemon. Nothing else could survive in the desolate city. But there was only one of them. Furthermore, its appearance was strange. It had the looks of an adolescent girl, pale and slender, with long limbs and subtle curves, not at all like the bony, furtive children of human parents. She stood nude in the heart of winter, only strands of platinum hair for a cover, and even from a distance they could see the leaf-like shape of her ears as they stood projected from the sides of her elegantly shaped head.

The girl came to stand in the middle of the bridgehead and gazed up across the moat at the gatehouse and the watchers. She smiled happily and waved at them. Then a bizarre show started. They watched in confusion as the girl hopped here and there, assumed seductive poses and swaggered and danced without a hint of shame, all sides of that precious form open and exposed to view.

Izumi forgot to breathe.

How?

How could the enemy know that image, which was no longer in this world? They should only have been able to imitate the appearances of those they had directly encountered and analyzed. It was impossible. Simply impossible!

No, there was one way. Only one plausible explanation for this macabre theater, only one available source for the knowledge. They had gleaned the image of the elven child from nowhere else but Izumi’s own mind, along the unnatural linkage between them, and were not beyond desecrating that beautiful memory for the sake of taunting her. Her in specific, and no other. And they couldn’t have come up with a worse insult if they tried.

But she was above such.

Obviously, she wouldn’t fall for such a blatant provocation.

She thought she was above such.

Yet, her rational mind had already taken the backseat. She never thought “seeing red” could be a literal expression, but that was all she saw right now, red and murder.

Unforgivable. Unforgivable. Unforgivable…!

Before she could think twice about it, Izumi body sprung to action.

“Now you’ve done it, you bastard…!” she roared. “Sifl! Gram!”

She gripped her sword, vaulted over the embrasure and dropped down. Below on the wall hung a long, blue banner of the royal house, hardened by frost. She sank the Amygla through it to slow her descent. Ere the end, she swung herself off and onto a flagpole sticking up from the stone by the gate, and from there managed to lever herself onto the hefty drawbridge chain. She half slide half tumbled along the chain to the ground level and fell onto the landing burned black from the oil fire. As soon as her boots touched ground, she dashed off at the playful figure pirouetting across the bridge. Seeing her come, Naliya turned away with a voiceless giggle, slapped lightly her pale rear, and ran off. And Izumi chased after her, leaving only a faint blue line behind in the brightening morning scenery.

Arnwahl watched the woman disappear through the gateway into the fallen city.

“…This is not good.”

3

The daemon hopped and skipped down the Castle street and then slipped between the houses on the right, Izumi close behind in pursuit. The hide-and-seek proceeded through the narrow alleyways and vacant backyards where laundry still hung uncollected on scattered ropes. Left and right, up a fence, and past trash cans, one random turn after another. The enemy wasn’t going very fast, while Izumi had accelerated her speed, yet after every corner the gap had grown wider.

Instantaneous movement...Did the monster have no intention to attack her, even after luring her this far out of the safe zone? No. It definitely wouldn’t miss such a golden opportunity. They were clearly looking to take her out. They would try something unfair. A trap. An ambush at a bad spot. Reinforcements. Whatever.

If they wanted a fight, she would give them a fight, and then some.

“Get back here, you annoying spook!” Izumi yelled after the fleeing girl. “And I’ll teach you this saying from my world, about biting off more than you can ch—”

The passage ended. She dived out to open ground and forgot the rest of her sentence. Her steps gradually slowed and then stopped altogether as she gazed around in dismay, struggling to process the scenery.

The game of tag had brought her to the wide marketplace plaza, occupied by the forgotten trade stalls. Naliya was no longer anywhere to be seen.

Instead, at the dry stone fountain in the middle of the plaza sat Riswelze. Judging by the glittering frost on the ground, the temperature remained below freezing, yet the assassin’s tanned, trained figure, and dark curls were without a veil.

And she wasn’t alone.

At the stall on the left, pretending to buy the frost-bitten, rotten apples, was another Riswelze. Behind the stall, selling the spoiled goods with a proud smile, was another Riswelze. There was another one further back, feeding non-existent pigeons with crumbs of sand. And another one, walking hand-in-hand around the fountain with another one. And another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one—In fact, there was quite a crowd, over a hundred youthful assassin girls or so, each of them perfectly identical and all buck naked.

Izumi’s sword hand dropped. She had known a trap awaited her, of course, but the scale of the setup exceeded her imagination. No more tests. No challenge, no escape. No chances whatsoever. It was a thoroughly prepared checkmate, no matter how she looked at it.

While the rest of the population carried on with their elusive business, paying little heed to the woman, the Riswelze at the fountain stood. She stepped unhurriedly across the frozen plaza to Izumi, a cynical smile on her lips, mischief in her brown eyes, and stopped nary a foot away and said,

“Tell me the most painful memory you know.”

“Just kill me,” Izumi said.

She could admit her mistake, but she wasn’t going to play any mind games.

The daemon brought her face closer and said, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ll kill her. I’ll kill every last one of them, right in front of your eyes, but not you. Never you.”

Izumi squeezed the sword hard enough that her whole arm trembled and fingers hurt. She could still force their hand. To begin with, there was no guarantee the monsters wouldn’t follow through with the threat even if she humored them. No, of course they wouldn’t. They were monsters. Yet, she failed to make a move.

Why? She had to question herself. She was so tired. Beyond tired. Hadn’t she come all this way just to find her end? Wasn’t this place as good as any to log out? The others would be better off without her. They’d think she went down like a hero and use their anger to struggle on harder. Because they were humans, because that’s what humans did. And if they did that, it was surely better than anything she could do for them while alive.

But she couldn’t raise the blade. She could feel it. With the daemon right in front of her, she could tell—they meant it. They were going to let her go. She could still live.

Why?

What difference did it make if she died here or a week from now? Nothing. There was no difference. No reason whatsoever to persist. For hope? What hope could they have? She didn’t know. But because she didn’t know, she could still lie to herself and believe there was a way, hidden somewhere in that haze that she didn’t know.

A way to save her.

A way to live—with her.

Humans really were rotten creatures.

Izumi forced her trembling lips apart and looked for the words. She found them soon enough and they began to bubble out of her like water from a fountain. Her most painful memory—there were countless painful memories, of course, but the question was easy.

“I was...I was fifteen,” she said. “It was a day like any other. I think it was Tuesday. We went out shopping together; my mom, my little brother, and me. We went by car, parked by the street. The lot was packed like always but we found an open spot some way down the hill. I got out first. The shop was across the street, so I went ahead. Mom was locking up, saying something to my brother, and then they came after me. There was a big van parked uphill, next to ours, it blocked their view. Some cleaning company car, or something. They couldn’t see if there were any cars coming behind—it was a narrow street, dangerous. But I had the better view. So I just waved at them to come on over, it was safe. I was impatient, hated going shopping. But I—I wasn’t paying attention that well. I didn’t notice how the sports car behind the van was about to leave. The driver took off way too fast. He didn’t see my mom stepping onto the road from behind the other car. There was no way he could react in time. The bumper hit her pretty hard. She had to be hospitalized for a time, but got away without any lasting injuries. But...But the thing is—the thing is, it wasn’t just her. My mother was seven months pregnant at the time. The angle the car hit her—the baby didn’t make it. Nothing the doctors could do. No one ever said anything to me, but we all knew it. Everyone knew. It was my fault. They trusted me and I failed them, for the first and last time. I killed my own little sister that day.”

Izumi finished and fell quiet, trembled a little, cold and hollow inside. She had never told the story to anyone before.

Riswelze looked up at the woman and exhaled deep, an almost ecstatic smile on her lips, as if having witnessed something terribly uplifting and brave come to life.

“There. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

4

The castle was on full alert. Arnwahl had wasted no time informing the others of Izumi’s desertion, and all the available force had been summoned to see what would come next. And after some twenty minutes of impatient waiting, the words no one wanted to hear carried down from the bulwark.

“Someone comes!”

Miragrave hiked up to the battlement, Yuliana and the others close behind her, and they gazed over the barrier to see with their own eyes. Across the bridge from the city trudged the figure of the summoned champion from Earth and she came alone, alive and in one piece.

“Oh thank goodness…” Yuliana’s quiet prayers had been answered with a genuine miracle. A huge weight was lifted off her heart. But her relieved smile was left short-lived.

“Archers, nocked and ready!” the Marshal called out and the knights lining the battlement armed their weapons.

“W-what are you doing…?” her majesty seized the officer’s sleeve and questioned the decision, eyes rounded. “T-that’s Izumi out there. That’s Izumi...!”

“So what!?” Miragrave spat. “If the enemy has obtained the elven regalia, they have the means to break down the gate and kill us all. Even if the chance of being mistaken were one in a million, I wouldn’t take those odds. She brought this on herself. Take aim! Fire if she comes any closer!”

“B-but...!” Yuliana clung to her coat, short of breath. “It’s Izumi…!”

“You don’t think I know that!?”

For the second time in one day, the woman from the other world came within a knocking distance from Hel. But before the command to loose could be given, another unusual sight distracted the defenders.

Across the courtyard from the main building came Carmelia. Her instructions were to stand by within the main building unless otherwise requested, yet she had left her post on her own. Surrounded by the fatalistic air of an immortal priestess, she strode up to the gate. Lifting her hand, she conjured a portal and bypassed the obstacles, coming stand on the bridge before Izumi.

Seeing her, Izumi stopped and sighed.

“Are you sure?”

“I owe you more than you know, including my own life twice over,” Carmelia answered. “And what wouldn’t one do—for a friend?”

“...I’m sorry.”

“I am not the one who needs those words.”

The sorceress turned and returned through the black oval. Drawing a deep breath to ready herself, knowing she could never be ready, Izumi followed after Carmelia and came to the castle courtyard, where she was soon confronted by the astounded Empress, who came running down from the wall.

For a time, Yuliana said nothing, only stared at the woman with a look where a thousand conflicting emotions struggled to decide which should be expressed first, all the while tears streamed down her cheeks. Then, the simplest feeling won over, she drew back her hand and struck the woman across the face.

“—DON’T EVER, EVER DO THAT AGAIN!” she screamed.

Her majesty covered her mouth, spun around, and hurried into the castle, followed shortly after by Carmelia.

Izumi fixed her posture and drew a deep breath as lively warmth spread over her face. Her line of sight fell next on the irate Marshal. Miragrave said nothing to her. Her glare spoke volumes. Since Carmelia had gone out of her way to bail the champion out of trouble, there was no point left in penalizing her further. Nothing could lessen the hypocrisy of it. But the commander would not soon forget this slight on her authority, or the betrayal of her confidence.

“Return to your stations!” she yelled at the staring crowds, and strode off into the main building. And with great effort, the usual routine resumed.

Feeling deeply averse to attention and company, Izumi also went inside. Where to? Was there a place left anywhere on earth where she could go? Not even death wanted her. She wandered through the bleak entrance hall, up the stairs and stopped at the mouth of the north side corridor. It was a suitably secluded, shaded spot, so she sat down on the short stairs and leaned on her knees, to gather the scattered pieces of her spirit.

In a short while, she sensed another presence and glanced to the side.

Millanueve took a seat on the stairs a few paces away from her.

“I know you’d probably rather be by yourself now,” the girl spoke with caution. “But we agreed not to leave anyone alone, and....Well, just imagine I’m not really here. I won’t say anything. You don’t need to explain. Just...Take your time.”

As promised, she spoke no more and sat staring off.

Izumi could endure no more. She got up and stepped over to the girl. She dropped on her knees in front of Millanueve and clung to her legs, like they were the first peak of rock to emerge from the Biblical deluge in a world where all other life had been drowned.

“I’m sorry!” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry! Please forgive me! Please…! I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry...!”

Millanueve stared down at the woman for a time, at a loss for words, surprised by the reaction. Then an understanding came to her and her gaze was filled with warm affection. She leaned over, reached her arms around Izumi’s trembling shoulders and held her.

“…You know, I never once blamed you,” she said. “If anything, I’m the one who’s sorry. Had only I been braver back then, had only I had the courage to speak the words I really wanted to say, so many things could be different...Ah, I see. So you didn’t hate me, after all? I’m so—relieved.”

Izumi continued to cry while hugging the girl’s knees, the grief of a long year spilling out at once. Millanueve embraced her closer and held her for a long, long time.

“It’s so mysterious,” she quietly spoke. “Here we sit, surrounded by horror and despair from every direction, yet I’m not at all afraid. I got to see you one last time. I got to speak with you and make peace. I never thought people could know such happiness. Even were this to be my last day in this life, I could leave it saying I was truly glad to have lived it.”