1

The majestic Cathedral of Tenessia stood out quite easily in the streetview of the Falvale district. It was built close to the northern bank of the river Thuleois, the wide stream of which separated the district from the rest of Eskeleion. The high cathedral building of white stone could thereby be easily seen from both sides of the river, being perhaps an even more striking reminder of the Divines’ presence than the Three’s temple two and a half miles southwest.

Falvale was an orderly residential area with multi-storied apartment complexes of gorgeous marble and slim pillars, housing a great number of upper middle class citizens. Whereas their earthly needs were sated by the various quality stores and services around, the ancient cathedral had been repurposed to meet the ever-growing demand for spiritual enrichment.

In other words, it provided an excellent opportunity for business.

The citizens joining the daily masses would spare a few coins for charity, to cure the mild guilt that those with a full stomach were bound to feel next to those worse off—which the Gralia district a couple of miles east supplied without limit. Some of the poor from the slums, children and crippled, would make day trips to Falvale, to beg for alms at street corners and secluded alleyways, before being chased away by the guard patrols. Simultaneously reminding the locals to not get too comfortable.

Inside the cathedral, from morning service on, were markets, where charms were sold, magical items, blessings, curse-breaking services, exorcisms, divinations, and so on, the effectiveness of the products varying from mild to non-existent. Not all of the entrepreneurs worked for the Marquess. Independent traders were welcome, so long as they could afford to rent a spot for their stall in the cathedral hall. Also, of all transactions within the grounds, the management taxed a meager percentage, which over time had produced quite a mountain of silver, further grown each day.

At the heart of all these operations was De la Cartá, an Archbishop and a Marquess by title, a corporate CEO by function.

Labeling the man a greedy, self-centered, money-grubbing hypocrite would have been easy—and perhaps largely justified—but few did so. In this world, in this Empire of men, no one saw ethical problems in seeking earthly fortune through facilities of spiritual service. Rather, whatever method one could find to earn wealth and power was surely only to their personal credit. After all, in Tratovia, strength was everything.

The concept of sin was also absent. Good fortune as well as bad were both things to be earned and sold, like anything else in life, and nothing more profound than that. What awaited after death, no one could say for certain, and thus it was meaningless to even ponder. The Divines offered no such answers, even if they had some.

No heavenly punishment was expected for accumulating wealth, as the old Marquess proved by his healthy example. Therefore, he had always been quite transparent about his prosperity and the benefits of it, took pride in them, and proclaimed it was all the natural result of his inborn business sense. As a matter of fact, the old Archbishop was a widely liked figure, perhaps even more so than anyone of the ruling regime. It was undeniably thanks to his work, that the city flourished financially. And unlike most other local nobles, he didn’t entirely despise the poor either, but sent bread and clean water to the slums, whenever he happened to feel like it, earning gratitude in place of envy.

The cathedral building itself was, surprisingly enough, very much like a cathedral one might see in an entirely different world.

It had a large and sturdy, almost coffin-like main building, much longer and taller than it was wide, fashioned of serene white stone, with high and narrow windows in the walls in two layers. The back end of the long building split into hefty twin towers, with great bells of copper in the top steeples.

In the front part, framed by massive pillars, was a grand, incrementally vaulting entryway, with a flight of wide stone stairs connecting it to the street level.

Already well before dusk, a line of guests had formed on the stairs, atop of which servants verified the identity of each, matching the invitation letters against the corresponding entries on the guest list. The unrest of recent days hadn’t gone unnoticed by the cathedral staff, who exercised particular caution and took their time allowing entry, despite the steadily growing line. A solid number of armored knights stood outside the building and at the entrance too, ensuring with their mere presence that not even the more impatient guests would dare to cut in line.

Through the door, the visitor would first come into an enormous entrance hall, often lined all around with small stands selling previously described spiritual goods and services. On this special day, such crude shops had been cleared away. Instead, a small army of servants was there to receive the guests and, if necessary, take and store their coats and other belongings which weren’t needed inside.

Only slightly younger than the Imperial Palace, the cathedral hardly lost to it in the exquisiteness of interior design. The polished marble floor of the entrance hall featured a check-pattern of white and jade-green tiles. On the ceiling, ageless art works of painters long gone, with themes of Divine lore, elicited gasps of awe from the guests, regardless of how many times they had seen them. The air was cool and crisp, even whispers echoing effortlessly from the voluminous walls.

Going further in, one came into a no less dignified intermediary hall, with marble stairs on both sides leading to the upper floor and storage rooms, presently off-limits, sealed off by thick ropes and informing placards across the way.

Forward from there came the nave, the vast central hall of the cathedral, exhibiting the full splendor of the architecture of old. There were no benches to sit on, like in a church. The extensive floor space was largely clear today, save for tables set up on the far sides, where the necessary consumables would be placed, in no small quantities. So high was the nave not even a giant would have hit his head in the ceiling, the whole space illuminated by enormous gilded chandeliers, upon which countless magically powered candles gave off their stable radiance. Six hundred guests was a considerable number, but seeing the grandiose hall with one’s own eyes, it was easy to believe that they would all fit in, with room to spare.

No other parts of the cathedral would the guests see on this occasion, it was all they needed to be familiar with, and in this regard, the princess of Langoria was no exception.

Although Yuliana and the Emperor weren’t among the first to arrive—for their extended tour around the city had taken them longer than expected—they weren’t subjected to the tedious wait in the line. Not at all. With Bramms making them way with his imposing presence alone, they walked brazenly up the stairs like pop idols, past the awed guests, and were quickly admitted without any jarring questions or verification of documents.

Even though Yuliana expected no less, her modest, chivalrous spirit couldn’t help but feel guilty, for passing so easily where her elders were left to wait their turn. Not that she would have joined them with pleasure, even if given the choice; as the sun started to set, the streets of Bhastifal were quickly turning chilly.

At the same time, the certain would-be assassin was looking at sides of the cathedral scarce few knew. A small and flimsy fisher boat brought Izumi to the northern bank of the Thuleios, where an entry point had been previously identified. There was a small opening of a tunnel, half submerged in the water, so covered in dirt and grass that one had to wonder how it had been located in the first place.

“Mind showing the way?” Izumi asked the shady, cloaked man rowing the boat, after jumping off. Not saying a word, the man merely turned the boat around and sailed away downstream. Left standing near the shore, feeling lukewarm water flood her shoes, Izumi had to go on alone. Sighing heavily, she turned and crawled into the tunnel.

The way in didn’t look one bit inviting.

At times, it was so cramped that Izumi was forced to crawl on all fours in the water, while even at highest spots, she had to remain deeply crouched. Progress was painfully slow. She had to be careful not to hit her head on the sudden, rocky bumps along the way.

Needless to say, in addition to spare room, the tunnel was also utterly devoid of light sources. Not far in, Izumi found that she couldn’t see in any direction anymore. After a few more minutes of blind fumbling and tripping, her sense of direction became helplessly mixed.

Which way had she come from, which way was she going? The uneven, slimy walls appeared to oppose her in every direction. There was barely enough room left to turn around, her shoulders kept hitting the walls if she stepped even slightly aside. A few times her feet slipped on the soft, unstable path, and she nearly became fully submerged in the filthy, stagnant water.

Izumi hadn’t ever been claustrophobic before, but neither was she in the habit of crawling into dark, tight places. Soon, she found that she had reached a new psychological limit she had never wanted to test.

“Come on, now’s not the time to panic...” she muttered and stopped, forcing her erratic breathing back under control. Doing her best to ignore her soaked clothes and the resulting discomfort, Izumi gathered focus and recalled the previous day’s lessons.

“Gehir...Ocíl.”

The root rune, which opened one’s form to change, and the rune of perception—casting the two now, Izumi tested if they would improve her situation. As magical energy flowed into her eyes, her optic nerves started to pick up the normally imperceptible, minuscule amounts of natural light seeping in, allowing her to vaguely make out the interior of the narrow tunnel. Her vision was colorless and fuzzy, but it was a clear improvement nonetheless. Looking back, she saw the entrance glow like a star in the darkness.

The way forward didn’t look any more encouraging than before—rather, being unable to see the hellish hole akin to a giant’s rectum ahead had been a blessing—but at least Izumi could tell where she had to go.

“Why do I have to do something like this…?” The joy of having obtained magical powers only warmed her heart faintly now, as she waded on. “This isn’t a job for a lady!”

The tunnel appeared to go on forever.

Izumi felt like she had been crawling on for at least an hour already, but there was no ending in sight. What if this was the wrong path? What if a part of it had collapsed? If she reached a dead end now, there would be no other choice but to return the same way. It seemed much easier to just give up and die there.

Then, it appeared that her fears were going to turn real.

The tunnel abruptly ended in a pile of rubble.

No matter how she looked at it, Izumi saw no way forward. No branching paths. No crack to squeeze through. Despair already gripped at her heart—but then a random observation made her forget it. The messy back end of the tunnel looked oddly bright and clear in her vision. Dragging herself closer to see better, Izumi discovered that the ragged path actually took a steep turn upward, and the precarious opening in the ceiling had simply been hidden from her point of view.

Moreover, there was clearly light coming from high above.

Squeezing through the tight turn, begrudgingly agreeing that large breasts were not always a thing to be grateful about, Izumi started to climb upward. Taking support of the deep cracks and corroded corners along the way, she pulled herself up, little by little. Higher she ascended, one painful inch at a time, and as she advanced, the light showering her grew brighter, bright enough so that she soon had to deactivate Ocíl. One careless slip-up could have caused her to plummet back down to the bottom of this deceitful shaft, but the wild hope brought by the nearing destination banished the threat from her mind.

Finally, Izumi reached an iron grate riddled with ornate holes, like the lid of a drain. Through the holes, she could see that there was no more mud or rock, but a spacious, artificially walled room above. With only a bit of effort, she pushed the grate out of the way—it had clearly been loosened for her—and pulled herself up. There she lay, sprawled on the cold stone floor for a while, catching her breath, congratulating herself for getting through another ordeal, as well as trying to gather the willpower to go on. She was tired by the effort, wet and muddy all over, but it was only here that her actual mission could begin.

The room around appeared to be a storage of some kind. Only a few meters wide and deep, full of wooden barrels and grates. Small stone stairs led to a solitary doorway. The door was open. Or rather, there was no door to begin with.

“I’m not going to pass for a guest, looking like this...” Izumi examined herself. Her face had to have been rather filthy too. A mirror to make herself more presentable and a spare set of clothes—the latter was supposed to have been provided by an insider.

According to Carmelia, the disguise had been left somewhere near the entry point, and Izumi started to look for the quest item at once. She examined the dusty shelves by the walls, barrels and the grates, under them, between them, behind them…

...But found nothing.

There were some old bottles, half-burned candles, ladles, sacks, plates, rope, cobwebs, but nothing that could be identified as human clothing. Clearly enough, the insider hadn’t made things too easy for her, or else she really sucked at looking. Both, most likely.

Sighing, Izumi left the room. Being spotted by a servant or a guard in her present state would have meant instant game over, with no retries, and her soiled footsteps left a distinct trail on the floor for anyone to follow. But there were no alternatives.

Out of the room, Izumi came to a bare, narrow corridor going straight ahead, with an intersection along the way. No places to run or hide. Listening close for footsteps, she discreetly made her way to the next corner, peeked her head around it, and gave a quick glance both ways.

Only an identical view met her. Another long, featureless corridor, with two more intersections, left and right, respectively.

“What’s up with this place…! Where am I?”

Little by little, Izumi grew certain there were no other people around, and hastened her exploration. But the more she learned about her surroundings, the more her confusion increased. The place was a downright maze. At the end of each corridor was a door. Some doors were locked, others were not. Behind the open doors were more storage rooms similar to the one she had entered through, with hardly better loot. There was a room with a great many wine bottles, but all unlabeled and dusty, clearly not for the party and decades old. Another room had crates with dry meat, not from this century. One more had long, wooden benches, piled along the walls in massive heaps.

Still, Izumi found neither party dresses nor a mirror. Or even a way out. After concluding her fruitless search through all the unlocked rooms, she realized she had to start over from the beginning and go through the locked ones as well.

All the while the success of her mission was on a countdown.

“This...is going to get complicated, huh?”

2

Marquess De la Cartá looked shorter in person than one would have expected. A bit chubby, though not to the point of obesity, he was dressed in a light, white silk cassock, with a turquoise-patterned surplice over it. Around his neck hung various gold accessories, medallions and such, and on his fingers as well were a number of great rings bearing rare stones and jewels. On top of his head was a tiny, white hat, which couldn’t cover even the few short strands of gray hair still left on his scalp. De la Cartá’s wide face, however, was quite sympathetic and humorous, and he greeted the Emperor and the princess with a wide smile.

“Well, there you are, at last! Welcome! Welcome!” He approached them with open arms. “Worry not, for I have been informed of your circumstances, and am most happy to be depended on by his majesty. Dear friends, treat everything here as your own, and myself as your humble servant.”

Yuliana thought his greeting was a bit strange, but could think no deeper on it, when the Marquess already approached her directly.

“Princess Yuliana Da Via Brannan of Langoria, I presume,” the man shook her hand with fatherly warmth. “It is a pleasure. I’ve had the honor of meeting your father once in the past, and it was a privilege I shall never forget. A true man, he was—no doubt, still is. You were not yet born at the time but, seeing your highness in person now, I deeply regret not coming to visit the proud Castle of Walhollem more often.”

“Eh, the honor is all mine,” Yuliana courteously answered.

“If there is anything at all that you need,” the man continued, not letting go of her hand, “anything...don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Thank you, your excellency, so I shall,” the princess replied, keeping her smile on with rehearsed effort.

—“Congratulations on your sixtieth birthday,” the Emperor spoke and stepped forward to shake the Marquess’s hand, as if to save the princess from the older man’s mischievous eyes. “It is a reputable age you’ve reached, in this dangerous world.”

“Dangerous,” the Marquess repeated with a coy glance. “What danger could there be, when I spend all my time holed up indoors, counting numbers, bottles, and lovers? Of course, there is the ever-present danger of slipping on a bar of soap in a hot bath, but I thank the Divines it hasn’t happened just yet. Not to a fatal extent, at any rate.”

“I am of the opinion that good luck is most certainly a talent.”

“And how lucky are you? I’m afraid I’d be left second in that contest!”

The Emperor lowered his voice and leaned slightly closer to the older man.

“I understand this is terribly amusing to you, but try to remember what is at stake. One careless word could bring...”

“Oh, don’t lecture me on my birthday, you’re much too green for that,” the Marquess interrupted him with a snort. “Do you think one still fears death at my age? I’ll have you know I’m not terribly fond of that boy. I only agreed to this because it amused me, and because I happen to have something of a personal interest in you, my friend. After everything I’ve achieved in life, games of destiny like this are all I have left to look forward to. I’ll gladly die to witness it unfold, if I must.”

“...I see you have elected your path then.”

“But I’m not going to die!” De la Cartá added in a lighter tone and spread his arms wide apart. “I practically own this city! What would happen to it without me? You know that, don’t you? A ruler rules, but it’s the ones who keep the industry running that really make or break an empire. If I’m not indispensable, then who is, pray tell?”

Even at the face of this rather scandalous statement, the Emperor remained composed.

“I assure you, I am better than aware of the intricacies of economy.”

“And that is why you are here,” De la Cartá nodded with a more serious look. “Please, your highness...your majesty...enjoy the food and drinks. Enjoy life. For all it lasts.”

The Marquess turned away, ending the brief meeting. Naturally, there were a great many more people he had to meet and greet tonight. Gesturing for the princess to follow, the Emperor left to return where the rest of the guests were gathering.

“What was that about?” Yuliana couldn’t help but ask with a confused look.

The Emperor she had grown to know wouldn’t let such remarks go without consequences—but the man stepping beside her only answered with a carefree shrug.

“The old fool has lost his marbles. Pay no heed to his ramblings. All I am counting on him for is setting the stage, and in that, I’d say he has done adequately enough. Before anything else, this is a night for us, remember? I’ll allow no one to get in the way of that.”

“So that we may see eye to eye, is that it?” the princess asked.

“If all goes well,” he answered. “Come now. I shall use my authority to secure the best parts of the lobster for you.”

“Hey!” she laughed. “Are you promoting diplomacy or trying to plump me out?”

3

It took Izumi quite some time to find a way forward, but she finally did. One of the locked doors hid no costumes but there were stairs taking upward. Following them, and through another locked door, she emerged in a hallway larger than before. Servants occasionally passed through, on the way to retrieve supplies. Apparently, she had progressed from the abandoned underground storage rooms to storage rooms that were still actively in use.

The main hall couldn’t have been far off now.

Barely avoiding detection, Izumi slowly advanced in the direction the servants were coming from, before spotting a lone maid coming in with an empty tray on her hands.

The maid was roughly Izumi’s size.

“Snake, if you’re out of ammo, then you gotta pick some up on the battlefield…”

Stealthily following the maid into a room full of kitchenware, Izumi caught the poor woman in a chokehold from behind. Applying pressure as gently as possible, she kept the hold until her victim ceased her struggle and fell limp.

“I’m really sorry about this, but the fate of the world is at stake,” she apologized, checking that the woman resumed breathing, and quickly started to take off her skirt. “Not enjoying this. Nope. Not at all. It’s a terrible thing to do to another person. Nice undies, by the way. Real retro.”

Tying the maid’s hands and legs with improvised binds and gagging her with a napkin, Izumi hid her behind a heap of boxes. Then, double-checking that no one was coming, with shaking hands, she put the acquired costume on, tying up and veiling her dirty hair with a white scarf. She examined her disguise using the polished silver tray for a mirror. There was no helping her foreign looks, but she definitely seemed like a simple worker now and nobody too suspicious.

“Well, aren’t I just too pretty for my own good?” Izumi nodded approvingly.

Giving the room one last look, to see if the captive wasn’t easily spotted, she gathered her courage, picked up some random utensils to take with her, and headed out.

Walking briskly through the hallway, trying to appear like she belonged there, she ran into a male servant along the way. The frown he gave her was a bit disconcerting, but he wasn’t slowing down, at least. Thinking it was more suspicious to keep quiet, Izumi decided to speak up.

“Busy night, huh!” she told him with a friendly smile as they passed one another.

A mistake.

“Wait, who are you?” the servant immediately stopped and spun around to question her.

BANG! Izumi turned and whacked him in the head with the large tray, knocking the man out. Subsequently, all the spoons, forks, and knives she had been carrying were sent flying all over the floor and bouncing off the walls, making a lot of noise and leaving a hideous mess in the hallway.

“Okay, this is not good. Nerves. Nerves.”

The number of captives increased by one, Izumi tried again, this time determined to apply more discretion in spite of the disguise. Fortunately for her, no more servants were coming, for the time being. She found another set of stairs, which took her further up, until she stepped out—not into a hallway, but into the hall between the lobby and the nave.

Ahead was a red rope drawn across the way, with a placard warning the guests, and beyond that, on the right, the way to the central hall. The doors had already been closed. Apparently, all the expected guests were inside. Going in now was bound to attract unnecessary attention, no to mention that the doorway was guarded by four armed knights. They were no doubt going to ask some tricky questions, if she approached them on her own.

Izumi looked right. The stairs continued there to the second floor. She decided to take this path, hoping it would give her a better overview of the situation. Her intuition wasn’t mistaken there. Rushing up the stairs, she came to the east-side balcony spanning the entire length of the nave, not in use during the party. Not by the guests, anyway. Izumi saw a number of armed knights positioned by each pier, keeping a close eye on the guests below, over the low balustrade. She could count at least eight of them on this side alone.

“The heck?” Izumi frowned, taking cover near the entrance. “’Minimal security’? This place is tighter than the review embargo of a triple-A title.”

If they spotted any suspicious movement down on the party floor, the guards would raise an alarm. Even if she could find a way down to the hall, she wouldn't be able to approach the Emperor without catching the watchers’ attention. Then the doors would be blocked, there would be no way to get back the way she came. The end result would be precisely the chaos and bloodbath of her most pessimistic expectations.

Now that the reality of it stood before her, Izumi wasn't all that eager to challenge the cathedral sentries. Izumi had made it into the restricted zone, but there remained a near insurmountable distance between her and the target, who was somewhere in that faceless mass swarming downstairs.

What could she do?

Try to take down the balcony guards, one by one?

No, there was a similar balcony on the west side, and more guards. Someone was going to notice if their colleagues started disappearing right in front of them. Then, maybe create a distraction and lure them away from their positions? No, if there was any impression of a threat, they would probably evacuate the Emperor first and ask questions later, resulting in a critical mission failure.

Geez. There has to be a way. Think, think, think...

—“Hey! You there!”

At that moment, Izumi heard an angry voice coming from behind her.

Before she realized, someone had appeared on the landing at the base of the stairs and spotted her. A man dressed in a black suit, with a short mustache and sleek black hair. With quick feet, the man ran up the stairs to her.

She was in trouble.

The nearest knight on the balcony had heard the shout and was already giving her the evil eye. Caught between the fire and the frying pan, Izumi had nowhere left to go. Was it going to turn into a fight, after all? So soon! Had she failed before even trying? All hell was going to break loose. The Emperor would immediately escape, and all would be ruined. In the worst case, Izumi herself would be caught. It was game over for the conspirators.

However, as she still hesitated, the suited man already reached her and stopped. Instead of calling the guards, he brought his voice down and asked in an irritated tone,

“Are you here to work or spectate? Well?”

“Eh..?”

It seemed the man hadn’t realized Izumi wasn’t part of the work force yet.

Surprised, she caught onto the slim hope and hurried to reply,

“W-work, of course. Why, I was—just taking a little breather, that’s all!”

“A breather?” he gasped. “Now’s really not the time for that, missy! I sent someone to retrieve glasses and a bottle of Bourdelain forever ago and they still haven’t come back. The guests will toast any moment now and we can’t serve the Emperor any old cow piss! By the Lords, people just disappear into thin air when I’m not looking! This night is shaping up to become the greatest disaster in my career! You go get them!”

“Just leave it to me!” Izumi said, striking a militaristic salute. “I’ll take care of it!”

“Music to my ears. Be quick now! Bourdelain, remember; the ‘69 vintage. The Emperor is a connoisseur of wines, he’ll have us hanged if we serve him a subpar product. And two glasses. Run, woman, run! I’ll wait here, I’ve already walked too much today, my feet are killing me!”

“Gotcha!”

Izumi ran straight back to the cellar room where she had hidden the captured servants. Both had regained consciousness by now and were struggling to free themselves, fortunately with little success so far. Propping the male servant up to a sitting position, Izumi removed the gag, and asked,

“Where can I find me some Boulder-rain, sixty-nine vintage?”

“What? Bourdelain?” the servant repeated, confused. “What are you going to do with that? No, wait, who the—”

—“One chance to answer, then your pinky goes. This is a matter of national security, and I’ll have you know I’ve seen all seasons of 24.”

“That’s...I-in the next room. The bottles by the left-hand wall. You can’t miss them, the name is on the label—mmphh-hmm!”

Izumi put the gag back on.

“Thanks Jeeves. Someone will come free you someday soon, I’m sure. And no peeking, you’ve got lady company.”

Soon enough, Izumi returned to the mustache man with a bottle of Bourdelain and two glasses on a tray, thanking Aiwesh at heart for the ability to read this odd world’s writing.

“Excellent!” the servant nodded. “Follow me and pray his majesty is in a good mood today.”

“Oh, he’ll be in seventh heaven,” she answered with a wide smile. “Real soon.”

4

Silence spread in the cathedral hall. Ahead in the bema near the back end, facing the multitude of guests, the Marquess himself had taken the elevated speaker stand, requesting attention. The acoustics of the architecture carried his voice without trouble even to those further back. Not that Yuliana had any trouble in that regard. In the Emperor’s company, she had a front row spot, while the other guests kept a respectful distance. Glancing around, the princess noted that Bramms wasn’t present. At some point, the hero had left them without announcing his destination. His sour expression had suggested that the warrior wasn’t exactly in his element here. Not that Yuliana cared to know where he’d gone to, in particular.

Even in the hero’s absence, there was no need to worry about security.

Along the walls, on the balconies above, behind the Marquess, there were armed knights everywhere. They weren’t De la Cartá’s own mercenaries, but men from the Imperial Guard. Why so many of them? Even though the Emperor was here, weren’t their numbers a tad overblown?

“Good evening,” the Marquess greeted his audience. “And thank you all for coming. It greatly pleases this old heart to see so many come share my celebration. How old was I again? My memory has not been quite what it used to be...”

The guests politely laughed at the generic joke.

“After I am gone, what will be left of me?” De la Carta continued on a more serious note. “It may seem too early to consider such things, but consider it I have. How will I be remembered? What will be my legacy to the Empire and her people, who have taken such good care of me over the past three decades? As a matter of fact, I’ve thought about this ever since the premature passing of my good friend, the previous Emperor, Estafallan VI. Divines rest his soul. What is remembered of his grace today? What is the social and historical inheritance he left us? How did knowing that great man change me as a person? He helped me think about life outside my own limited sphere. He helped me see what I used to think of as the purpose as only a vessel. Through my many dealings with his majesty, I came to understand beauty in a way I hadn’t seen it before. The beauty in organized living. We are all part of an infinite continuity, links in a chain that connects everyone and everything. It is both a comforting notion, as well as fearsome one. Not one of us is alone, and not one of us will go unjudged by the rest.”

It was uncanny how quiet such a large crowd could get, Yuliana thought.

“I want to be remembered as a benefactor, above all,” the Marquess carried on. “Thanks to me, Bhastifal has an effective press to share important daily news. Which has, in turn, improved the rate of literacy, the rate of employment, on top of increasing people’s awareness of the kind of a world they live in. Sadly, I have also seen this great asset become abused for the benefit of the few. As one among this powerful minority, I lack the right to judge such maneuvers, but I am saddened by it all the same. After I am no more, I would like someone to take a good look at what we’ve been doing. And condemn us. So that things can be better for the generations that come after us. I suppose this is the greatest fear we old people have. To see the fruits of our earnest efforts to elevate our beloved country fall in the wrong hands, and be used to undo everything we believed in. And...not be able to speak up against it, for it was us who made it. This machine.”

Somewhat confused whispers could be heard here and there.

“But,” De la Carta abruptly raised his voice, cheerier, “no matter what the future brings us, I hope that all of you big-pockets out there can continue to support the work of this cathedral of mine, which has provided for the poor of Bhastifal for over two decades. Your generosity has helped save lives and reduce the crime rate that has plagued our beautiful city for so long. May the Divines bless you for your kindness and generosity. I am sure you will be glad for it the next time you have to take a walk out at nighttime—and not get mugged along the way.”

As soft laughter rang out all around them, the mustached servant, Izumi in his wake, made their way through the crowds.

“Hurry,” he urged her. “His excellency is buying us time to save face!”

“I’m trying,” Izumi replied, doing her best to keep up and hold the tray still. A lot of people had no intention of making way for a mere servant.

“Ah, over there,” the servant said. “On your best behavior now.”

Finally, they reached the front part of the hall, and the servant located the Emperor with his sharp gaze. Not that it was particularly difficult. His majesty had the best view, with a polite distance apart from the other guests. Izumi felt her pulse quicken.

They were approaching the target from behind, unseen.

The hero Bramms was nowhere to be seen.

It was now or never.

Another opportunity like this might never come. She had to kill the Emperor here, before he turned and recognized her. She would break a glass, activate Sifl, and cut his artery before the guards could act. Gripping the tray, Izumi braced herself, her pulse something fierce, parted her lips to name the runes. And—

——She stopped.

The Emperor wasn’t alone.

As the servant moved out of her way, Izumi saw that right next to his majesty stood a beautiful young woman in a gorgeous scarlet dress—a girl.

Izumi nearly dropped the tray out of shock.

It was not an illusion. It was her.

No way Izumi would ever confuse that girl for any other.

Yuliana was there.

Yuliana.

Her Yuliana and no other.

What!? How? Why? What’s going on!?

“What are you still waiting for?” the servant grunted at her. “Come on!”

“Bathroom,” Izumi replied, shoved the tray in the servant’s hands and spun around.

“Wha—wait, what...?”

Too late. Izumi had already disappeared back into the crowd.

—“Hm?”

Wondering what the jarring hustle and whispering was about, Yuliana glanced over her shoulder. She saw a male servant with a mustache stand aghast there, holding a tray with two glasses of white wine. With a dry cough, the servant quickly recomposed himself and brought over the drinks.

“Your majesty. Your highness.” He bowed and held out the tray.

“Took your sweet time,” the Emperor commented, taking a glass.

“My deepest apologies, your majesty,” the servant bowed deeper.

“You might want to check what ‘discretion’ means before next time,” Yuliana suggested, picking up the remaining glass.

“I have no excuse.” The servant silently wondered if there would ever come a next time.

A short distance ahead of them, Marquise De la Cartá smirked and raised his own glass.

“To this beautiful city,” he said. “To progress. And to good health.”

All six hundred guests raised their glasses as well.

—“To good health! Happy birthday!”

Everyone savored their drinks at varying speeds. Yuliana thought the wine had exceptional depth of flavor, rich sweetness complemented by fruity acidity, and a most pleasing aroma.

“Hm, it was worth the wait,” she voiced her opinion.

“Really?” The Emperor looked in his already empty glass. “They all taste the same to me.”

Servants gathered the empty glasses, after which it came time for the main course, laid out during the speech. The guests dined, spoke, ate some more, not with a hungry wanton as in a barbaric feast, but with sophistication, only a bit at a time, to give a natural context for all the socializing. It wasn’t the first such occasion the princess of Langoria had seen, and she quickly slipped back to her public persona, dispensing her usual stock responses to the repeated, generic queries.

Only a few weeks back, as she journeyed deep in the Felorn woods, Yuliana would have never imagined that she would be playing the role of a princess again. Not that she really wanted to either. The previous celebration she had attended wasn’t so easily erased from memory. Fortunately, those primitive threats looked distant and unlikely here, in the heart of the Empire, of a truly modern civilization.

Nevertheless, Yuliana couldn’t bring herself to fully enjoy the occasion either, recalling again what she was meant to achieve. Then, her solitary reflections were interrupted by the merry sound of a flute. The lone instrument was soon joined by others in a delicate song, drawing everyone’s attention to the sizable orchestra, which had assembled on the minstrel’s gallery above.

“Ah, music!” the Emperor exclaimed. “Shall we dance?”

“Eh?” Yuliana blinked, surprised by the invitation.

“Surely you do know how to dance, your highness?” he asked.

“Why, I do, but...I didn’t think you cared for such things.”

“Well, there is another misapprehension we ought to fix. If you would be so kind.”

The man extended his hand to her. With a half-ironic curtsy, Yuliana took it and they moved to the clearer central floor, where few other pairs were joining the song.

There was indeed nothing particularly wrong with the Emperor’s dancing skills, even while he was not a passionate performer either. But though a bit stiff, his lead was stable, courteous, and reliable. Yuliana could easily forget about the motions and simply follow along with light feet.

“Do you think there will still be dance in the world, a year from now?” she asked him.

“I do,” he answered. “If only we make it so.”

“A confident answer. Do you ever doubt yourself?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t speak of it. That would be my last mistake.”

“Is it really so bad, being an Emperor? That you have to trade away your humanity for it?”

“You ask me such a thing, as a princess?”

“I feel it is because I am a princess that I mustn’t turn away from my humanity,” Yuliana answered. “I must be the example that my people will follow. I must show them the best of themselves, but also that it is natural to have weaknesses. I couldn’t ask them to aspire for something that is beyond even myself. Otherwise, what would become of them?”

“The people should figure what to be for themselves, and not depend on princesses to tell them.”

“Not everyone can be so strong. Even such people we must embrace and guide.”

“It takes a heart stronger than my own to love all,” he said. “As much is certain.”

“If that’s true, then why are you trying to save them?” she asked.

“Even if I don’t love them, that doesn’t mean I want their deaths.”

“Then why do you kill them?”

“Unless the weak and foolish are culled, everyone will be doomed. My wants and wishes cannot change this.”

“Are those your own beliefs? Or must you say them as an emperor?”

“Beyond an emperor, I am nothing. Should I stop being what people expect me to be, then I will cease to be altogether.”

“You always speak in riddles,” Yuliana said, looking away. “Are you still mocking me? Do you take me for a child, unable to understand the weight of responsibility?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he told her. “You are strong and you are sharp. And I fear for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes. I fear that the harsh future we face will shatter you like a crystal vase. I am trying to take your burden to bear it on your behalf, commit the evil you are incapable of, but you will not let me. And I fear that seeing a heart as beautiful as yours be broken will destroy what little is left intact of mine. Then we will both be equally lost, and the world together with us. I cannot allow this to happen.”

“Crystal vases and hearts?” she met his gaze with a look of irony. “Now you are a poet as well?”

“I will don whatever mask best suits my needs,” he replied without humor. “For the sake of our world, I will become an artist as well as a butcher.”

“Why not a friend?”

“Will friendship help us?”

“It will help us help ourselves.”

The Emperor fell silent. They continued to dance, turn around, oblivious to the admiring, envious, enthralled gazes they were attracting.

Then, he suddenly spoke again, further lowering his voice to a whisper.

“Let’s run away.”

“Excuse me?” Yuliana couldn’t believe her ears.

“Leave this city together with me. We’ll quit the Empire, leave these unfeeling, empty walls, and conspiring villains behind. Forget all these lies, corruption, and bloodshed. I will follow you wherever you choose to go, as your sword and shield. Even to the land of daemons, if you want to. Just the two of us. Let us take fate in our own hands, as you say and think of no else.”

“You test me again,” she said and shook her head.

“I speak my true feelings,” he insisted. “Perhaps for the first and only time in my life.”

He sounded sincere. Looked sincere.

Yuliana averted her face. For a fleeting second, she considered the proposal.

What if she agreed? Would he really come with her? Would she be able to return to her original mission, with this man as her ally? If there was anyone in the world, who could understand her motives and feelings, was it not him, royalty like herself? He knew what they were getting into and not regret it, even should it cost them their lives. Moreover, she wouldn't have to regret such an alliance either. It was a solution by all means too good to be true.

Because of that, she finally answered,

“It’s impossible.”

“Because you hate me?” he asked.

“I don’t hate you. That much.”

“Yet you refuse me.”

“We’d never make it,” Yuliana told him. “Not on our own. I foolishly thought I could, when I left my home and family, but I can see now that I was indeed a fool. Over the past weeks, I’ve been made to face my weakness again and again, and it has made me understand many things. It is as you’ve told me. Both the Empire and Langoria are needed to succeed. Humans, elves—we need everyone in the world to lend us a hand, if we are to best the daemons and carve our path to the ends of the world. Running away from this fate is not possible to us, nor is denying it. We can't be the change, as we are, but we can start it. By choosing so, right here and now. And every moment from hereon.”

“...”

The Emperor said nothing but stopped.

He let go of Yuliana and a distance was created between them.

“I admire your wisdom and resolve,” he said, a hollow, lightless look in his eyes. “But it will not be enough to overcome the darkness of this land.”

5

Izumi wandered amid the guests with a vacant look, pretending to gather glasses. She took a few, carried them to a table by the wall, and then left to look for more, like a simple automaton. Her mind was in a state of thorough confusion and disarray. Why was Yuliana there with the Emperor? Wasn’t she held captive? Why did it look like she was free and there of her own will, in such a beautiful costume too? Why had no one told her she would be there? Watching the two dance from a distance, intimately whispering to one another, Izumi’s stormy feelings were only further mixed. She thought she was going to go mad.

There was no way she could murder the man in cold blood, right in front of the princess’s eyes. Yuliana would hate her forever if she did. Then, what could she do?

Perhaps there was a way to take Yuliana, sneak out, and escape the city? But that would have meant betraying her promise to Carmelia. To begin with, was the princess even willing to go with her? Didn’t she have her own reasons, her own goals, which had nothing to do with the woman from the other world?

Every minute spent second-guessing elevated the risk of becoming exposed. Izumi knew this, but it didn’t make the decision any easier.

What was she to do?

A weird, blunt pain pulsated in her chest, crippling her inside.

The princess and the Emperor—they looked uncannily good together.

The tall, powerful frame of an adult man, how well it shielded the gorgeous flower by his side, complemented her. And then there was Izumi herself, an assassin without honor, a remorseless, penniless, underhanded killer, the robber of maids, the explorer of sewers, and a pervert to the core.

“Darn, darn, darn, darn, darn, darn it...When did my life in another world go so wrong…!?”

The mission was a failure, no way around it.

The only choice left was to retreat, quietly exit the building. So long as she left no traces, no one would be able to realize what had happened or pin it on Carmelia. It was still safe. They could try again another time. Yes, there was no plan B and less than two days left of the week, but nothing could be done about that.

Having made her decision, Izumi turned towards the exit. She would find a servant, tell them she was feeling sick and ask to be let out. With luck, they’d show her outside without a hassle, and it would be over.

But then, something happened.

Something that changed everything.

“Hm?”

A loud, collective gasp awoke Izumi from her frantic thoughts.

The dance stopped. The music stopped. Everyone’s attention was suddenly drawn to the front part of the hall. What they were so intently ogling at with horrified faces was the old Marquess.

De la Cartá was kneeling on the floor, clutching his chest, a shattered wine glass beside him. The man’s eyes were rounded in shock, as strength rapidly drained from his convulsing limbs. Unable to breathe, a quiet groan escaped his throat, but no audible words. Then, having lost the futile struggle against the poison coursing in his veins, he fell on his face and ceased to move.

Decidedly dead.

Numerous loud shrieks and shocked cries created thunderous noise the hall, and all the hundreds of guests started to shift towards the exit, against the guards’ feeble attempts to calm them. No, weren’t they practically throwing them out? The doors were shoved open, the knights waving at the people and servants alike to leave. What on earth was happening?

Izumi remained standing still as frightened guests flooded past her like so many sheep, dazed, unable to comprehend any of it. Suddenly, someone was standing right beside her.

The woman turned her head and saw that it was the head servant, the one with the mustache. He took her hand and put something in it. Looking down, she saw it was a small blade, flat and thin, with a bare handle, easily hidden.

“From ashes comes life,” the servant sternly told her and hurried out along with the guests.

A sense of purpose returned to Izumi as she clutched the blade. She looked up and saw the Emperor leave in the opposite direction from everyone else, leading the princess by the arm, towards a smaller doorway in the far back of the hall.

Suddenly, things started to make sense to her again.

“Now you’ve done it…!”

Picking up the pace, she ran after the two, a sense of dread gripping her heart.

6

“Follow me. This way.” The Emperor led Yuliana through a doorway in the apse. Through it, they climbed up the stairs, floor after floor, before arriving in a spacious room somewhere between the two belfry towers. Like the hall below, the room had been cleared of furniture, save for a small table left in the very middle of it.

“The Marquess is dead—murdered. Why?” Yuliana questioned the man, shaking her wrist from his hold. “Why would anyone do such a thing? Why now, at a time like this? In his own birthday party!”

Approaching the lone table, the Emperor answered,

“The Circle of Pale Ashes would.”

“Who?” Yuliana thought the name sounded vaguely familiar, but knew no better.

“He was a necessary sacrifice, to set the stage,” his majesty continued, turning around. “Nothing more complicated than that.”

His expression had returned forcibly neutral, unemotional, and distant.

“The stage?” the princess frowned at his choice of words. “What are you talking about?”

“Recognize this?”

Picking up a piece of paper that someone had left on the table, the Emperor presented it to the princess. With suspicion, Yuliana walked closer and took a look at the document—quickly recognizing the contents.

It was the gias scroll. The one written for her, binding her to act against her fatherland under the pain of death, which she had refused to sign before.

“I have understood certain things this week,” the Emperor told her, placing the contract back onto the table. “You will not yield before threats. You cannot be bribed nor seduced. You cannot be coerced without breaking your body and mind beyond recovery, rendering you useless to our cause. You will sooner take your own life than compromise on the safety of your kingdom and her people. No arguments can change your mind, once made up. Then this document is useless, as it is. Unless you will sign it yet, by your own will. How about it? Would you consider it?”

“You...” Yuliana looked at the man in disgust. “You had the Marquess killed? Just to make me sign that...?”

“Not quite,” he denied. “I knew De la Cartá would die, yes. He brought it upon himself. I did not give the command, but I counted on it happening all the same. In the hopes that it would make you see the light of reason, and recognize the kind of reality we live in.”

“Reason?” the young woman spat. “All I see here is pure madness!”

“...I was afraid you would say that. You cannot be forced and neither can our cause be rationalized to you. Indeed, during our time together, I have perceived but one weakness in your impeccable fortitude. That is, your friends. Both of them have been delivered outside my reach. But perhaps one will yet come back, of her own volition.”

The Emperor looked up and nodded towards the entrance. Yuliana turned, following his gesture. Someone had appeared in the doorway, a maid. Tearing the white scarf off her head, the maid quickened her pace and ran at them with a determined, furious look.

Of course, she was not a maid.

“Izumi!?” Yuliana cried, bewildered, recognizing the woman in her unusual getup.

Gritting her teeth, Izumi charged straight at the Emperor.

At this point, it was too late for regrets. No point with pretenses. As she had predicted, the plan had been compromised from the beginning. Her moves were being read, anticipated, every step of the way. The Emperor had taken Yuliana for a hostage, no doubt to force Izumi’s hand.

Retreat was simply not an option anymore. Only success, at whatever cost.

Through solid stone.

Even through blood and tears.

He was all alone. Where were his guards? Perhaps he had been counting on Yuliana's presence to hold Izumi back. As if it mattered anymore. To save the princess, Izumi could deal with being loathed. Whatever the Emperor was planning, it was useless. Useless. All useless.

Surely only a God would be able to still her killing hand now.

“Hope you saved a bunch, ‘cos it’s a bad end for you!” Izumi shouted and leaped in the air, raising her weapon, to overwhelm her solitary opponent, to crush him, to bury him. For once and for all.

But reach him, she didn’t.

At that moment, for no explicable reason——the very air between the two exploded.

Izumi was struck back by the impact, cast across the air. With effort, she twisted her hips to fix her orientation mid-flight and landed on her feet, sliding a good distance over the polished stone floor. Yuliana had instinctively shielded her face from the abrupt flash, and now quickly opened her eyes again. To her amazement, the princess saw that another person had appeared out of nothing to block the assassin’s path.

A woman of inhuman beauty, with long, deep blue hair.

That divine vision was all Yuliana saw.

In the next instant, a wall suddenly surged up from the floor, dividing the entire room in two. That abnormal barrier quickly separated her and the Emperor from the two others.

“Izumi!” Yuliana called, striking at the wall. To no avail. It was not a trick or an illusion but of solid stone, at least two feet in thickness. The magic to produce such a thing clearly exceeded ordinary human ability.

What was happening on the other side, there was no longer any way for her to tell. Only faint tremors carried through, along the marble floor.

“I didn’t see that coming, okay...” Izumi, on the other hand, had a better view of the situation.

In front of her stood Divine Lord Cinithlea, who had repelled her with a light display of mystical power. Cinithlea wasn’t alone either. On the right, a distance away, stood Gwanlyn in her elegant kimono. It was the latter’s power, which had created the wall, manipulating the stone naturally present in the building, as easily as though it were part of her own body.

“Then, the third one must be...”

Searching for the missing spirit, Izumi's senses picked up movement from above. She stepped back, barely in time to avoid the agile figure of Yubilea dropping down at her, both the spirit’s feet veiled in shoes of vibrant flames. The moment she hit the floor, without suspense, Yubilea turned like a ballet dancer, and kicked up and back, aiming at Izumi’s unshielded head. Activating Sifl, however, Izumi evaded by a hair and jumped back to get over a safer distance.

“I see,” Cinithlea spoke with a faint smile, looking at Izumi. “I perceive a familiar signature in your eidos. It appears you have gained powerful supporters, mortal. Now I see how you were able to survive the encounter with our protege.”

“On the other hand,” Izumi replied, “I expected better than kicks and punches from you guys. Compared to some other Divines I’ve met, you don’t seem that big a deal anymore. Maybe you shouldn’t have started playing favorites?”

“Indeed, we are paying a heavy toll for our favors,” the blue spirit replied. “The power of the Covenant extends beyond your paltry vows. But even if reduced to mere shadows of our former selves, there are things we cannot allow to pass.”

“Why? I thought all you cared about was lazing off and pampering the big guy.”

“It is ultimately for Waramoti’s sake that we are here. The Emperor has learned of our weakness; he has threatened to dispatch the hero overseas, unless we do him this favor. Regrettably, even our power would not protect the man on the lost continent. Therefore, there is no other choice but for you to die tonight, in exchange for our thespian’s safety.”

“Oh, is that so?” Izumi replied. “As popular as it makes me feel, I really don’t have the time to play with you now. Somebody important to me needs my help.”

“The vessel of White?” Cinithlea guessed. “My apologies, but keeping you from that child is one of the core tasks given to us tonight.”

“And fortunately for us,” Gwanlyn spoke, “it is night time and the White Death slumbers. No one will come to your rescue, mortal.”

“Low as we may have fallen,” Yubilea added, “we have until daybreak. That’s more than enough time to destroy one feeble human!”

The red spirit dashed at Izumi, leaving a faint, fiery trail in the air. Her flame-coated feet glided over the floor unhindered by inertia, crossing the distance in an instant. Backing up, Izumi tried to keep calm and analyze her opponent the same as always, but the dire circumstances were getting to her nerves.

A way past the three spirits, a way to reach Yuliana—she couldn’t see any. She had her hands full with trying to survive.

Yubilea appeared to be the close combat type, while the two others kept their distance. With the fury of a firecracker, the Lord of Scarlet Flame assaulted Izumi with rapid kicks and punches of deadly force, augmented by her burning element. Even though she had a humanoid vessel, the Divine’s movements were free of hindrances characteristic to conventional human fighters. Normally, there would always be a slight pause in between one’s actions, due to the necessary contraction and relaxation of musculature. But the body of the spirit of red flowed from one technique to the next uninterrupted, with the agility of a seasoned dancer.

An ordinary mortal fighter even with Izumi’s experience would have been swiftly overwhelmed by the murderous bombardment. But Izumi had left the category of ordinary behind. She now had the magic Carmelia had taught her, and made full use of it.

Keeping Sifl active, her speed five times the usual, Izumi endured the heat of Yubilea’s flames and evaded her offensive. The human form gave the spirit the power to interfere with the physical world, but that familiar build also allowed Izumi to read and anticipate her better, than if her form were something completely imaginary. The Divine’s attacks would randomly cast off waves of brilliant fire, greatly extending her reach, but Izumi stuck daringly close to Yubilea, as if they were indeed only dancing instead of trying to kill one another, and kept dodging aside at the last instant to escape all damage.

“Kh! What’s with you!? Be still!” the irritated Divine yelled at her.

“Can’t do that,” Izumi replied with faked lightness.

In truth, evading was all she could do. There was no opening for a counterattack anywhere. The limiter Carmelia had placed on Sifl prevented her from accelerating her speed—accelerating her time, that is—to dangerous levels. But even the swiftness that greatly exceeded an average person was barely enough to match the Divine Lord's moves.

Perhaps there was a way to break through, if she got a bit more forceful—but the presence of the two other Lords couldn’t be ignored either. For the time being, they simply observed the duel from a distance, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t join in to aid their sister if need be.

If Izumi fell here, who would save Yuliana?

What was happening on the other side of the wall?

Was the Emperor’s goal only to get rid of the threat to his life?

Or was Izumi herself being used?

If so. If that was the case.

Then had she, by coming here, only served to make things worse for the princess…?

“Hn…!”

That thought wrenched Izumi’s heart worse than any mortal peril.

“You have some guts, mortal, looking away while I'm your opponent!” Yubilea growled at her. “But how do you like this!?”

The spirit darted up in the air, as if charging up a larger blow. However, instead of dropping back down, her form burst into brilliant flames and vanished with a loud crack.

“That move…!?”

Instinctively, Izumi felt a connection. It was only a gut feeling, but she reacted to it immediately, and turned around.

Where her back had been facing, the air was torn by another explosion of flame out of nothing, and through those flames dived Yubilea’s youthful figure, braced to strike at an unsuspecting foe.

But the foe wasn’t unsuspecting.

Although the aesthetics of the skill differed, there was an uncanny resemblance between Yubilea’s maneuver, and the shadowy technique of the daemons.

Izumi had guessed correctly and didn’t waste the opening. Instead of retreating, she lowered her posture and leaned in, letting Yubilea’s fist brush past her face. She put strength into her hips, and extended her right arm to point at center of the spirit’s torso.

“Eh?” an unguarded gasp escaped Yubilea’s lips, seeing that her punch missed.

“Gram,” Izumi spoke the incantation.

The woman’s knuckles connected with the spirit’s abs, strengthened by the Rune of Power. In the next instant, Yubilea’s slim form was blown away, struck into the wall thirty feet away.

—“GAAAAAAAHHH!” she yowled and was buried in broken off stone debris as she fell.

“Speed and mass equals power!” Izumi cheerfully exclaimed, turning back to face the two other spirits. “Watch Bruce Lee and his amazing one inch punch, if you don’t believe me! With this—”

Neither Cinithlea nor Gwanlyn moved.

Instead——the floor moved.

The ceiling moved. The walls moved.

The whole room around Izumi was suddenly in motion. New walls sprang from above and below, further dividing the already divided space, rapidly altering the architecture to set additional obstacles, one after the other. Izumi’s chances of reaching Yuliana were quickly reduced to nothing.

“Give me a break…!” she cried, sprinting towards the window on the left side wall.

Too late. Well before she could reach it, even that opening vanished, devoured by the animated stone. Izumi looked around, desperately trying to find another way to escape the trap, only to find that all the exits were gone. Without any natural light source available, she should have been left in a complete darkness—but that was not the case.

The angry flames covering Yubilea kept the room lit, as the spirit struggled back up from among the dust and chunks of rock on the floor.

“You’re going to pay for that…!” she roared at Izumi. “Human!”

Even after taking such a heavy hit, the Divine appeared unharmed.

Naturally. The form of the Lord was “human” in appearance only.

It wasn’t simple possession that had brought the Divine into life.

Whoever the maiden sacrificed to Yubilea had been in life, that life had been consumed in full by the spirit, to produce her current incarnation. These vain entities had not been content with simply sharing the container of a person; what they wanted was an absolute, uncompromising presence in the physical reality.

The cost was severe, for both the Lord and the host: nothing of the previous humanity of the sacrifice remained, and the Divine itself was reduced to a bare ghost of its past self, its crippled core barely above the natural life forms in intensity. But in exchange for this intimate fusion, the Divines had gained precisely that which they sought: stable corporeal existence.

And that existence could not be taken from them without power that could damage the very spirit within. No matter how weakened, as Lords they stood above all base elements, untouchable by mortal hands.

Izumi’s struggle had been hopeless from the start.

“It doesn’t get much worse than this, does it?” she mumbled.

As soon as she had said that…

Where the door of the room had once been, a loud explosion occurred. The marble wall was shattered by an impact of incredible force, and caved in together with a large portion of the wall itself. Enormous blocks of stone scattered all over the polished floor. Both Izumi and the Divine of flame were left momentarily stunned, staring at the freshly appeared cavity, through which a tall man walked in.

A man holding an enormous, circular shield.

“You…!” Yubilea gasped.

“Good evening,” that man, that hero, Bramms of the Grand Shield, stepped over the debris and greeted the two.

“Mind if I join in?”