On their head, a pitch-black hood. Extending from it, a slightly transparent veil obscured all but the contours of their face. Their armour, tastefully decorated with slight hints of gold and silver, was carefully crafted as though to invoke an image of purity.

On their back sat three pairs of gorgeous white wings, occasionally scattering a feather here and there, also partially covered in armour with a metallic glow.

“BarE…”

They spoke, as though multiple voices at once, each with a slightly different intonation. Yet despite that, their voice managed to sound somehow natural.

“… YoUR teeTh.”

From beneath their veil, their hidden eyes stared at the other figure, unblinking.

And the other figure took a step backwards.

“Eh? That’s embarrassing…” the girl said, placing a hand behind her head in mock shame. She knew exactly why she was being asked such a thing, which was why she was unwilling to comply.

“nO ONe… Is wATcHing. HuRRY IT up.”

As the figure stated, there was no one around to see. Although this area nominally fell under the jurisdiction of the Citadel of Stars, Folis, in a practical sense, it was too far away to fall under regular watch. Even if the girl showed off her teeth, no one would see.

Except the figure, that is.

And that was exactly why she couldn’t.

“You say that, but… I only just met you today, you know? Asking me to show myself off like that, aren’t you going a little fast? Take me out to dinner first…~”

From the cold sweat on her face, anyone could tell that the girl was just making excuses.

“tHERe Is… No tIMe. tHis IS for ThE safEty… oF thE CITiZENs, aND THE RulES… of THe WORlD.”

Suddenly, the figure was holding a weapon. More specifically, a lance… They pointed the tip at the girl.

“Bare youR tEeth.”

“Uuuu… Well then, I’m leaving-!”

The girl spun on her heels and, within a single second, was already a good twenty-five metres away.

One of the things they were renowned for, after all, was their speed.

“They” being, of course, vampires.

And yet—

At some point, the figure had gotten in front of her.

“Wha-?!”

The figure raised their hand, and she crashed into it full-force, causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground.

“YoUR teETH. sHoW mE. nOW.”

The figure pointed their lance at the girl’s throat, but she refused to respond, so they stepped closer. They crouched down, stuck their free hand in the girl’s mouth, and pulled it open.

“YouR tEETh. YoU ARe A vaMPIRE. ProceedING wItH eXTeRminAtioN.”

Indeed, the figure was searching for vampires.

Recently, there had been a strange increase in their number. It was especially strange since this was the capital, of all places.

The girl tried to fight back in a variety of ways, but her prone position left her unable to use physical attacks, and chanting magic was practically impossible with the figure’s hand in her mouth as they poked and prodded at her sharp fangs.

“MAY THE FRAGMenTs of YOuR soul FiND A BeTtEr LIfE.”

After a prayer some would decry as hypocritical, the figure placed their foot on the vampire’s gut to prevent her from escaping, raised their lance and—

With a sickening squelch and a flash of red, the life faded from the girl’s eyes.

In her chest was a smoking flesh wound in the shape of a cross.

The figure raised their head and walked off, leaving a corpse behind.

This was their only purpose… So they would keep doing it, their heart shining Golden.

***

A crucible. A melting pot. A forge.

What it was, exactly, wasn’t important…

But, after all, ‘crucible’ seemed the most apt.

A mixture of… something, swirled around, inside.

Elven xenophobia. Drakonian contempt. Dwarven pride. Mermaid isolation.

In addition, pitch-black pride and blindingly white kindness.

It swirled, and swirled, and mixed together.

A faint sense of ‘self’, melting in and out.

Green. Red. Brown. Blue. Black. White.

The colours blended together, so deeply they could never again be separated even if one wanted to. A rainbow… Or, at the very least, something similar.

Like the opposite of a glass Prism, the different colours converged and became one.

Whether that was white, or black, or something inbetween… Even the colour itself didn’t know.

A legendary hammer, wielded by expert, machine-like hands, slammed away at the colour, again and again, trying to force it into shape.

But it refused to submit. Its ‘body’ stayed flexible, malleable, even liquid. And yet…

The hammering was certainly not accomplishing nothing. Nay, slowly but surely, the unidentifiable colour’s ‘mind’ was given shape.

And yet, the colour failed to recognise the existence wielding the hammer as a ‘parent’. Even for the inhuman, artificial soul that had formed only by complete coincidence, that thing was too fake.

So, then, where to turn but inside oneself?

Consulting the colours that made up the colour, the colour ended up with… a list, so to speak, of people.

The origins of red, blue, green and brown were, of course, important…

But there were two people at the top of this list.

Papa.

Mama.

The colour identified its parental figures.

And soon, realised one was nearby.

No, not just nearby.

Papa was watching.

I’ll try my best!

I’ll try my best, so… so please watch me, Papa.

Please don’t take your eyes off me. This soul-crushing loneliness in my heart… I won’t be able to take it if you shun me.

I’ll be useful-! I’ll be useful, so-! So-!

Please, Papa, Mama, please love me!

Despite not even having a fully-functioning consciousness yet…

No, perhaps because of that, the colour formed a craving, swift as could be.

To be useful to them, the colour would do anything, take on any shape.

Whether Papa needed a bastard sword, or a longsword, or a greatsword, or a zweihander.

Whether Papa needed a battleaxe, or a holy lance, or a demon blade, or a scythe of death.

Any form was fine. Any shape was fine. Any time period was fine. Even objects from the future were fine—

So please love me.

Thus, a warped sense of loving loyalty was given form.

The demon king grasped his new blade, fresh from the forge, and…

“Hmm. ‘Tis a good sword. Aye, ‘tis wonderful. But such a splendid sword needs a name…”

With an expression that could pass as tenderness only to those surrounding him, those who were just as broken as he was, he caressed the blade.

“The blade which will usher in the end of this play that causes nought but tragedy… Aye, I shall call you-”

The demon sword was born. Its name-

Her name was-

***

She wanted to be useful.

He’d saved her from a life in the dungeons, so she wanted to repay him.

She wished to be praised. To be patted on the head for a job well done, perhaps given a hunk of meat, and then to be sent out again.

Those fleeting moments of affection he would give her… If she could, she would freeze them in ice and preserve them forever.

She realised it was likely he had been joking, but he had told her to pick up a trick of some sort, while they were in that enchanted blizzard, up north.

And there was nothing she valued higher than his orders. Thus, she had intently observed the creatures living there, the ones called Cursed Jacks.

At first, she was just as confused as anyone else. There was no logical way for those things to resist being beheaded, even if they were undead. Her instincts, too, screamed that they should’ve died.

But, in fact, it was her instincts, combined with her skill at ice magic, that allowed her to figure out the trick.

Ice magic was, in other words, magic to freeze things.

Of course, ice-based projectiles and barriers and such were available, but fundamentally, all ice magic functioned by freezing something.

Freezing a lake. Freezing water vapour in the air. Freezing an opponent’s attack. Freezing an opponent.

Freezing a concept.

Suddenly, with a snap, she realised.

They had frozen themselves.

Not physically, or anything. No, they had not even frozen the ‘current state’ of their bodies.

They had frozen the ‘current state’ of their existence.

If one were to kill an undead, that would change their state from undead to simply dead.

But if that state were somehow frozen as ‘undead’, then even if they were killed, they would not actually die.

It would have no meaning to do this to a living creature, since their body would remain dead even if their soul was kept alive… But for an undead, this would allow them to keep moving indefinitely.

After all, their bodies would just regenerate.

With this same concept, they could easily freeze their magic circuits and thus prevent them from getting clogged with junk, which would rid them of the ‘lifespan’ undead normally had.

None of this was directly applicable to her, in a one-to-one manner.

But the idea was…

If she had enough power, she could simply freeze concepts.

She could shackle her moments of bliss to the ‘present’, allowing her to always feel that gentle happiness. No, perhaps she could even shackle the happiness itself to her soul.

Enough ice to freeze everything and everything…

She just, needed the power to fuel it.

If she were to inform her lord of this breakthrough, surely he would approve and grant her power.

Surely… Right?

She suddenly found herself uncertain.

Images of her life before.

What if…

What if he’d get angry that all she came up with was a theory?

The knowledge that his command had been a joke had all but evaporated from her mind.

But, there was someone… No, something watching which didn’t want her to just give up.

It, along with its eternal enemy, had taken notice of this world once already, when Faith solidified.

And when Faith managed to, however temporarily, break the chains around that one, they had decided that Faith was something worth keeping track of.

And one of these two concepts, locked in eternal war with the other, had already chosen a side, thus forcing the other to pick Faith’s side.

The ‘other’ didn’t want this potential ally to just give up and forget about her discovery, because she was exactly right.

Thus—

“Young lady.”

Its voice obscured by heavy static, it spoke.

Through static so heavy that it blocked out all sound, including its voice, its intentions managed to reach her anyway.

“Do you want power?”

The white noise prevented her from hearing its words, but she found herself nodding along regardless.

“The power to turn your theorem into reality?”

Its words, through the white noise, sounded sickeningly sweet, though she was entirely unable to discern their contents.

She found herself with one question at the forefront of her mind.

Who was speaking to her?

“My identity? It is not an important thing… But you may call me ████████.”

Even through the mysterious static that allowed its intentions to pass through, its name was obscured, but she didn’t mind. She hadn’t been asking about its name.

“I cannot tell you any more. Will you accept, young lady?”

Something like a thin sneer crept up on her, wrapping itself around her body and filling her with primal disgust.

“Well?”

She wanted out of here. But at the same time, its proposal…

“I can wait. But can you?”

The static was overpowering everything, obscuring her sight. Like snow, it blocked her eyes, preventing her from seeing even the smallest thing. It did not ask for anything in return, and her honed instincts told her it was not malicious towards her, so perhaps this was just how it was, but…

That was, in and of itself, terribly unpleasant.

“It is no problem for me if you refuse, young lady… After all, I am sure I will encounter your lord soon, anyway. But do you not wish to prove yourself?”

Like a smirking phantom, it provoked her, as though trying to draw out a reaction.

Finally giving in, she shook its hand.

“Very well. Then, congratulations…”

Her eyes, already black as the night, turned blacker than ever before. The static invaded her mind…

And then it was gone, leaving only a mysterious power in her hands.

Fenrir was born. The maddened wolf which would shackle the world in her chains of ice.

Filled with innocent glee, she rushed over to her lord to report.