Battle For The Underworld, Six PM, November 7th, 380 HE Part 3

Standing on the other side was a warrior, or perhaps a priestess, about half a

head shorter than even the young students. Her brown hair was tied into a

braid, and she wore a silver breastplate over a black habit. The sword in her

right hand was short for her size but very fine. She looked no older than a child,

but even though she had just slaughtered the fearsome nonhuman soldier, her

little face showed no sign of intimidation.

It was at this point that Renly finally snapped to attention. This girl was no

swordswoman, nor was she a holy woman.

She was a knight, an apprentice Integrity Knight by the name of Linel

Synthesis Twenty-Eight. She was one of the Terrible Twins, the girl who had

dueled and killed the previous twenty-eighth knight and taken the number for

herself.

Linel's expression did not change upon seeing Renly and his pathetic posture.

She checked on the two students, saw that Kirito was safe where he sat, and

turned on her heel. Then another apprentice knight appeared at the doorway of

the tent.

Fizel Synthesis Twenty-Nine, her short hair the same color as Linel's,

murmured to her partner, "Nel, I cleaned up all the goblins around here, but

more will come. Maybe we should move."

"Mm. Got it, Zel," Linel agreed. She stuck the toe of her boot under the body

of the goblin that blocked the floor near the entrance and flipped it out of the

way. Not much blood spilled in the process, a sign that the blow from behind

had been so quick and precise that there hadn't even been time for the goblin

to bleed.

She turned back to the speechless trainees and said, "I am Linel, and this is

Fizel. We're apprentice knights."

"Y-yes, I know. I saw you during exercises. We're Primary Trainees Tiese

Schtrinen and Ronie Arabel. Th…thank you for saving us," Tiese said, her voice

still trembling a bit. Ronie bowed her head.

Linel just shrugged, in a very mature way. "You might be getting ahead of

yourself. Over a hundred goblins broke through the defensive line along the left

wing of the First and Second Regiments thanks to the smoke screen they set

up."

She paused then and finally looked right at Renly. Her purplish-gray eyes

narrowed.

"What is the elite knight who is supposed to be in command of the Second

Regiment's left wing doing in here? Your subordinates are running around in a

panic within the smoke."

Renly looked away, avoiding the piercing gaze of the apprentice knight, and

grunted, "It has nothing to do with you. Take these two and their sick patient to

a safe place."

He was keenly aware of an abrupt change in Linel's manner. A chill brushed

his cheek, something no child would be capable of emitting. The little blade

gleamed and flickered in the orange campfire light, reflecting off the goblin

blood.

Was she going to kill him, as she had the previous Twenty-Eight?

Then let it be quick. He was meant to be stored away as a failure of a knight. It

had been a mistake to put him into a real battle in the first place. He couldn't go

back to the Second Regiment, and there was no place for him back at the

cathedral if he fled there. Being executed by an apprentice knight like Linel was

a fitting end for a coward like him.

Renly turned his head away, awaiting the finality of the blade.

But what he heard was not approaching footsteps but a soft voice. "You might

be a terrible coward…but you are an elite knight, which means you possess

some kind of strength. You ought to be grateful to the swordsman you called a

'sick patient.'"

What does that mean? Renly wondered. By the time he raised his head, he

saw only the back of Linel's habit.

"Trainees, bring Kirito and follow me," Linel ordered at the same time that

Fizel reported, "Nel, they're here! Eight…no, ten of them!"

There were indeed multiple sets of footsteps approaching from the east.

Tiese and Ronie were rooted to the spot, so Linel turned to them and said,

"Ignore that command. Stay here for a while. We will go clean up the goblins."

"Y-yes, Miss Knight," Tiese said. Linel slid out of the tent and disappeared with

Fizel. Immediately, they heard a goblin yell "There! Ium younglings!" and fading

footsteps. They were going to put some distance between them and the tent

before they killed their targets.

Facing ten goblins without fear was a bold act, one that seemed out of place

for apprentices. But they clearly had the strength to achieve this.

Strength.

Linel had identified Renly as a coward but also said that he had "some kind of

strength." And also that he should be grateful to the very rebel, Kirito, who had

once been their opponent.

He didn't know what that meant, and he didn't feel the tiniest bit of this

strength he supposedly had. He had been within eyesight of the enemy and

couldn't even find the bravery to get to his feet. Renly hung his head, unable to

even look up at Tiese and Ronie.

But that lasted for only a few seconds. Just to the left of Renly, the thick hemp

wall of the tent tore in a straight line. This time, he was startled into lifting off

the ground and leaping away from the disturbance.

Standing on the other side of the rip was a goblin in finer armor than the one

before, though it was a bit shorter. This leather armor was well crafted and

dyed black. Assuming it had slipped past the twins, this one seemed to be an

advance scout adept at clandestine actions.

Without realizing it, Renly was reaching for his throwing weapons. But he

couldn't draw them; as with the first goblin, the terror that bubbled up from his

gut seemed to freeze his fingers.

Renly wasn't clearly aware of this, but the source of his fear was not the sight

of his first close-up nonhuman enemy. It was fear of fighting itself. To be

precise, fear arising from the knowledge that if he fought with this goblin, it

would continue until one of them died.

He was afraid of being killed. And even more afraid of doing the killing.

More feet marched closer as he stood there. This must be a separate unit

from the ones Linel and Fizel were drawing away from the tent. More than just

ten or twenty goblins had slipped through the defensive line.

The scout saw Renly's fear in the way he stood still, so it grinned and turned

to Tiese and Ronie. The girls stepped in front of Kirito and bravely raised their

swords. But their faces soon turned to despair—more figures were approaching

behind the scout, silhouetted against the smoke.

The scout raised the scythe-like weapon it held and crept closer to the girls.

"S-stop right there! Come any closer, and I'll attack!" the redhead bravely

warned. But her voice was thin and wavering.

"…"

The goblin closed the distance. It was clear from the way it kept in motion,

rather than wasting time with threats and gloating, that it was a well-trained

elite soldier. But Tiese held her ground and pulled back the sword, her face

resolute.

You can't. Run away.

But Renly's lips wouldn't move. Even now, his body—his soul—refused to

fight.

Then he heard some faint sound, like creaking. His eyes flitted to the right.

In the darkness at the back of the tent, the black-haired young man sat lifeless

in his chair, expression blank. The sound was coming from his left hand. A vein

rose on the skin where he clutched the two swords, the tendons bulging. There

was great strength being expended there.

As though furious that he had no right hand with which to wield a sword.

"Are you…?" Renly whispered, all air and no voice. Are you trying to save

them? When you cannot stand or use your sword or even speak?

All at once, he understood.

The strength that Linel and Fizel spoke of—it was not about technique or

sacred arts or divine weapons or Perfect Control arts.

It was that simple power that everyone, Integrity Knight or common folk alike,

possessed but could lose so easily.

Bravery.

Renly's right hand began to move, ever so slowly. His numb fingers brushed

the Double-Winged Blades at his waist.

All of a sudden, the feeling returned to them. The Divine Objects were saying

something to him.

The goblin pulled back its wicked scythe, preparing to swing it at Tiese.

All at once, there was a swift swishing of air being split, and a pale shine

flashed briefly, reflecting throughout the tent.

The light curved from Renly's hand on upward, brushing the roof of the tent

before plunging. It swept through the goblin's body, changed angles, and

snapped back right between the index and middle fingers of Renly's

outstretched right hand.

"…Gr…hg…?"

The goblin's growl sounded more confused than anything. A pale-red line

appeared, running through the middle of its face.

Then the top half of the goblin's head slid wetly off the bottom and plopped

onto the ground.

The Double-Winged Blades were very thin steel throwing blades that curved

at the center. There was no hilt or handle to hold the forty-cen blades. Both

ends had sharp tips, which he gripped between his fingers to throw the blades.

They then flew, rotating rapidly, changing angles on the fly, before returning to

their master for him to catch them between his fingers again.

In other words, even in ordinary use, they required far more concentration

than a simple sword did. If he lost any bit of focus, he would fail to catch the

returning blade and could easily lose a finger or two.

The fact that he could capably use such a weapon was proof enough of

Renly's considerable skill—but he was completely unaware of this. The lack of

Perfect Weapon Control was a huge weight on his shoulders, an inadequacy

that softened his resolve.

So a single attack that instantly killed its goblin target did not suddenly bring

Renly back to his senses, ready to fight.

Cold metal rang faintly in his outstretched fingers. He breathed in and out,

shallow and quick. I killed. I killed it, he repeated in his head, over and over.

"…Sir Knight."

It was Tiese who broke the silence. There were little tears in her maple-red

eyes. "Thank…thank you," she practically whispered. "You…you saved us."

The words were a warm balm on the icy fear that enveloped Renly's heart.

But he didn't have the wherewithal to respond. Multiple figures were

approaching from the smoke screen. It looked like more than ten, in fact.

I can't. I can't fight anymore. A single goblin was already too terrifying.

The meager bravery he had summoned from his every fiber was already

fleeing him. His breath was quick. His legs felt weak. His eyes swam around,

looking for an escape. Once again, they were drawn to the two longswords

clutched under the black-haired youth's arm.

One of them, a sword with a beautiful, finely carved rose on its hilt, seemed

to be faintly glowing in the gloom. The light was blue but seemed almost warm

somehow. It pulsed, beating like a heart. He felt the chilly fear that enveloped

him gradually melt.

Renly sucked in a deep breath and said, "You stay here and protect Kirito."

"W-we will!" Tiese and Ronie replied. He nodded to them and left the tent

through the rip the goblin scout had made.

Two goblins at the head of the approaching group instantly noticed him and

bared their fangs.

His right hand flicked, and the light shot through the air again.

The blade returned to his fingertips at the same moment that two heads fell

to the ground. But Renly didn't even register it, his eyes already searching for

the next target, at which point he threw the blade from his left side. Two more

goblins perished instantly, their bodies crumpling.

In just four seconds, Renly had eliminated four goblins, but more of them

approached.

"A knight…"

"It's a leader!"

"Kill him! Kill him!!" they screeched. Renly began running toward the front

line to draw them away from the tent. The goblins pursued, their armor rattling

as they scrambled after him.

Eventually, the rows of supply tents petered out. Just to the left was a vertical

rock face, and the visibility ahead was reduced by the thick smoke screen, out

of which charged goblin after goblin. Then there were the ten or so following

him from behind.

Having charged to his potential death, Renly now stopped and held out his

arms, a curved blade in each hand, and shouted, "My name is Renly!! The

Integrity Knight Renly Synthesis Twenty-Seven!! If you want my head, you will

have to give your life to take it!"

The goblins greeted his speech—containing every last ounce of boldness he

had—with ferocious roars. They brandished their crude knives and raced for

him, front and back.

Renly hurled his two blades. The one from his right hand went right, and the

left blade went left. Each line of approaching goblins was met with a flying,

curving projectile.

Numerous heads left their shoulders and toppled to the ground. A second

later, filthy black blood spurted from their necks as the bodies flopped over.

Rather than pinching the blades as they returned, Renly caught them spinning

around his index fingers, keeping the rotation alive, and hurled them again

without pause.

The exact same effect resulted. In a head-to-head comparison of regular

attack power, this was more powerful than even Deusolbert's Conflagration

Bow and Fanatio's Heaven-Piercing Blade. The Double-Winged Blades were

thinner than paper and spun with such incredible speed that anything less than

the finest armor might as well not even exist.

Two tosses of the pair of blades offed more than ten goblins, and even the

fearless goblins' mad charge slowed a bit, as they were stunned by the sudden

deaths of their fellows.

He could do this. If he just held out a bit longer, reinforcements would soon

come through the line ahead, where the smoke would be thinning out. Stifling

the fear he felt toward his own mass slaughter, Renly threw the blades for a

third time.

But this time, he did not hear that familiar sound, like a machete slicing

through a small branch. Instead, it was a high-pitched clash: Kshiiing!

Renly reached out as far as he could to catch the blades, which just barely

managed to return, despite being knocked fiercely off their trajectory. He

couldn't nimbly catch them on one finger this time and had to gingerly receive

the lethal blades on the fly.

Through gaping eyes, he saw a single goblin appear through the hazy smoke.

It was large. In height, it was not far off from Renly, whose physical frame was

that of a fifteen-year-old. But the rippling muscles that covered its body and the

malevolent look pouring like fire from its yellow eyes were not at all like the

other goblins. It wore light armor of studded leather, perhaps for better

mobility, and a thick cleaver hung from its right hand.

"…Are you the captain?" Renly asked, his voice low.

"I am. Kosogi, chief of the mountain goblins," the creature replied and made a

show of looking around. "Well, well, you've done quite a number here. I didn't

think there would be an Integrity Knight stationed back here. So much for my

guess."

In addition to its stature, this goblin did not speak like the others, either.

While it was just as malicious and hostile, the brutishness was held in check by

what was clearly much higher intelligence.

That doesn't matter. Just because it was lucky enough to deflect the DoubleWinged Blades once doesn't mean it can keep it up, Renly told himself. He

crossed his arms before him and shouted, "Your war ends here!!"

He threw his blades as hard and fast as he could.

The right blade swept down at an angle from above, while the left skimmed

the ground and leaped upward, both aiming right for Kosogi's neck.

But again, Renly's attack resulted in a loud, clear ringing noise.

With speed that reduced his weapon to a gray blur, Kosogi had swung it and

blocked the attacks coming from both sides in one capable motion. The

deflected blades barely made it back to Renly's grasp.

Why?! The blades should be able to slice through any goblin weapon! he

thought, scarcely believing it. His eyes were drawn to Kosogi's cleaver.

It was the same crude style of knife that the other goblins carried, but the

color of the blade was different. That was not primitive cast iron; it was refined

steel that had been forged over a long period of time to increase its quality.

Sensing Renly's shock, Kosogi hefted the blade up close to his face and

chuckled. "This? It's a test model. Pretty good, isn't it? Much blood was shed to

steal the materials and methods from the dark knighthood. But…this isn't the

only reason I was able to block you, boy knight."

"…How about this, then?"

Renly hurled his hands upward. The blades vanished out of sight into the

darkness of the night sky, then swooped down to attack Kosogi from behind.

Surely that would be impossible to stop— "…!!"

But Renly's certainty was proven wrong immediately. To his disbelief, Kosogi

swung the cleaver behind his back and struck the high-speed blades that he

couldn't possibly see for himself.

The weapons wobbled their way unsteadily back, and Renly just barely failed

to catch one of them, cutting the middle finger on his left hand. He didn't have

time to register the pain, however.

"They're too light, boy. And they make sound," Kosogi explained simply. He

had perfectly identified the weakness of the Double-Winged Blades.

The weight of each blade was almost impossibly light for the weapons known

as Divine Objects. It was an inevitable consequence of prioritizing only

sharpness and rotation power, and it meant that any enemy with armor of a

sufficient priority level who could react in time could not be simply

overpowered.

Also, a blade that flew and spun at a high rate of rotation produced a

characteristic slicing sound. Someone with good ears listening for that sort of

anomaly could predict where it was going if they were skilled enough.

The intelligence that Kosogi showed in identifying and reacting to his attacks

after only a handful of chances sent a chill down Renly's spine. How a crude,

lesser being like a goblin could be capable of such cleverness was— "I see that

look on your face, boy. It says, 'But you're a goblin…,'" Kosogi quipped, grinning,

but with a whiff of mournfulness about it. "And I can turn that phrase around

on you. 'But you're a high and mighty knight…' I've heard that the Integrity

Knights have the strength of a thousand, but you don't seem to live up to that

standard, do you? Is that why you were hiding here in the back?"

"…Yeah, that's right." It was a mistake for him to have looked down on this

foe as a mere goblin. Renly decided to abandon his pride and admit the truth. "I

am a failure of a knight. But don't take the wrong meaning from that. I'm the

failure…not these." He held up the silver blades near his face.

The only way to eliminate the inherent weakness of the Double-Winged

Blades was the special technique of the Integrity Knight itself: Perfect Weapon

Control.

These weapons had once been a pair of holy birds that had each lost a wing,

one right and one left. Unable to fly with just one wing each, they'd connected

their bodies and risen to a height that other birds could only dream of. They'd

flown distances that were nearly infinite.

This legend had inflicted a sharp but tiny wound in his heart, so deep that he

did not even realize it was there.

It regarded his loved one, the person removed from his memory by the

Synthesis Ritual. It was his best friend growing up, someone whose life he'd

taken in an accident during the extreme combat between them in the final of

the Four-Empire Unification Tournament.

He and Renly had truly been like a pair of birds. They'd competed with each

other from the moment they were self-aware, and after leaving home to travel

to Centoria, they became support for one another in their quest to overcome all

challenges and reach the very heights of their craft.

But that was where their wings gave way.

Even losing his memory and being made an Integrity Knight did not fill the

gaping hole left in Renly's heart. Without the bravery to take his sword and

fight, and the joy of having his heart connected to another's, there was no way

for Renly to summon the mental image of the holy birds flapping together with

one wing each.

However, he had just met this young black-haired man who seemed more

damaged than anyone had ever been yet still clutched those two precious

swords in his only arm. The faint light that one of those swords emitted seemed

to speak to Renly, silently telling him that there was one thing in this world that

was never lost, even after death.

It was memory.

Life was passed on from one soul to the next, through personal bonds and

connections, in perpetuity, for as long as the world itself existed.

Renly looked away from the approaching goblin chief, who was smiling with

the certainty of victory, and closed his eyes. From the body of the boy knight

who seemed to have given up all hope, a burst of sword energy like a searing

wind suddenly issued forth. His eyes shot open. He crossed his arms in front

with the steel blades, hiding the bottom half of his face from view.

"Double Wings, take flight!!"

He flung his arms sideways. Two strips of light leaped upward, arcing, and

plunged toward Kosogi from the sides.

"Keep trying it…and you'll only get the same result!!" The goblin chief readied

his cleaver and forcefully knocked the blades aside.

Red sparks flew along with metallic screeches. The two flying blades were

easily deflected, but they rose into the air again, rather than falling to the

ground. Like a pair of birds soaring together, they swept into a spiral formation,

growing closer and closer.

The moment that the blades touched, Renly shouted, "Release…

Recollection!!"

It was not simply Perfect Weapon Control, but the ultimate secret technique

beyond it, the command to unleash the weapon's memories.

Pure, blinding brilliance lit the ravine.

The steel blades drew into the center of that light, where they connected and

fused.

It was the unleashed true form of the Double-Winged Blades: a cross-shaped

construction that gleamed blue, like the stars of the distant night sky, as it

slowly rotated.

Renly lifted a hand toward his counterpart glowing in the far heights.

It's beautiful. Just like me and…

Then he clenched his raised hand.

The cross-shaped blade began to spin with tremendous force. The windwhistling sound that it normally made rose in pitch until it passed out of the

range of hearing and became silent.

With a soft, easy motion, Renly swung his hand downward. The DoubleWinged Blades, now just a disc of light, sliced silently toward the goblin.

"This is a waste of time!!" roared Kosogi, swinging his cleaver at the weapon

as it descended upon him. But right when the thick steel was about to hit the

ultrathin blade, the divine weapon abruptly changed course, bouncing vertically

to cause the cleaver to miss, then accelerating straight down once again.

There was a faint, dry sound: kahk.

Then a pale shine rippled through the median line of Kosogi's well-muscled

body.

"Gaaaaah!!" the goblin bellowed, trying to leap onto Renly. But his left half

seemed unable to keep up with his right. After a step or two, the two halves

separated entirely and fell heavily to the ground.

At the moment of his death, Kosogi tried to use his excellent mind to figure

out how he'd lost.

According to his own values, the weak-looking boy knight could win only by

having a greater will to murder and a greater desire to win than Kosogi. But no

matter how he squinted, through eyes quickly separating and losing focus, he

could not sense any kind of malice in that knight's childish face.

Then what did I lose to?

He desperately wanted to know but did not find out before everything went

black.

When Renly caught the returning Double-Winged Blades, they silently

separated into two parts and assumed their former shapes. He stared at the

twin blades, which were utterly spotless.

His hidden memories had not returned. In fact, Renly was not aware that

some of his own memories had been taken out of his reach at all.

But he was certain now that somewhere within him were faint traces of

someone whom he'd once been very close to, whose heart had been connected

to his own. For the moment, that was enough for him.

He closed his eyes briefly, then lifted his head. Many goblin warriors waited

behind Kosogi, the enemy leader. But it was strangely quiet all around. Through

the layer of smoke, which was gradually clearing up, Renly saw that there were

hundreds of bodies piled in heaps. They were enemy soldiers who had been

alive just minutes before this. He was shocked; who had done this—and when?

"…Well, I suppose you've gotten the tiniest bit more knightly."

He turned, startled, toward the source of the voice. Approaching from the

right was the apprentice knight Linel Synthesis Twenty-Eight. Nearby was Fizel

Synthesis Twenty-Nine. Clearly, these two were responsible for cleaning up all

the enemy troops.

He stood there, dumbfounded. Eventually Linel, the one with the braids,

snorted and gave him what seemed like a very forced knight's salute.

"Elder Knight, we beseech thee for orders," she said, probably mostly out of

sarcasm, but it beat open derision.

Renly cleared his throat and asked, "Are he and the other girls all right?"

"Yeah. We sent them back to the supply team," Fizel reported.

He sighed in relief. "And the infiltrating enemy soldiers?"

"Entirely wiped out," said Linel this time.

"Then I'm returning to my unit. You should do the same."

"Fine." "Yes, sir."

The girls turned and ran off, not seeming fatigued in any way by the battle.

Renly watched them go, then glanced back at the supply tents behind him.

…Thank you, he said to the two trainee girls and the young swordsman.

Renly Synthesis Twenty-Seven, elite knight, began running east to rejoin the

left wing of the Second Regiment, where he belonged.

3

The very back of the secondary formation of the Dark Territory troops sat

about five hundred mels from the ravine, where the fighting was pitched. On

the second level of a deluxe four-wheeled carriage (if still inferior to Emperor

Vecta's tank) stood a tall woman, arms crossed, with plenty of bare skin

showing. It was one of the dark lords, the chancellor of the dark mages guild,

Dee Eye Ell.

A messenger mage dressed in black looked up at her master from the side

and reported, "Sigurosig, Shibori, and Kosogi have been struck down."

Dee's lips instantly twisted with scorn. "Useless vermin…I shouldn't have

expected a nonhuman to do anything right."

She looked down at the necklace charm draped over the skin of her ample

breasts. The silver circle with twelve precious stones set around it was a special

Divine Object that told time by the changing color of the stones. The six o'clock

stone glowed orange, but the seven o'clock stone was still dark. That meant

that only about twenty minutes had passed since the start of the hostilities at

six o'clock.

"Have you located the Integrity Knights?" she snapped, clearly irritated. The

messenger mage uttered a quick command and waited to hear the response of

her counterpart lurking somewhere on the battlefield.

"Three sighted on the front line have been targeted. Two others in the rear

have been sighted, but their locations are not quite ready."

"Still only five? Perhaps that is all the number they have," Dee snarled to

herself, a far cry from the coquettish display she put on in the presence of the

emperor. "In either case, we must eliminate those five without fail…"

She thought it over, then ordered, "Send in the minions. My command is…"

She narrowed her eyes, judging the distance to the crumbled gate and the

battlefield near it. "Fly seven hundred mels, descend to the ground, and lay

waste to the enemy."

"At that distance, the nonhuman troops fighting at the front will get caught

up in the attack."

"No matter," she replied, unbothered.

The messenger showed no emotion of her own as she nodded her

understanding, then asked, "And what number, my lady? All eight hundred

currently hatched are at your disposal."

"Let's see…"

Dee considered the question. Minions required considerable resources and

time to generate, and they were a far more valuable tool to her than the goblin

soldiers. She wished she could be sparing with them, but if her plan to wipe out

the enemy's main force with a concentrated dark-arts barrage from a distance

failed to do the job, the emperor would be very displeased with her.

"…All eight hundred," she ordered, a cruel smile on her lips.

Dee's secret ambition was to help Dark God Vecta triumph in this battle so he

could capture the so-called Priestess of Light and return to the depths of the

earth—and then gain the emperor's mantle from him and rule the entire

Underworld in the aftermath.

On the day she became empress of the world, she could make thousands

upon thousands of minions. Her greatest obstacle, General Shasta, was dead

now, and the only power players after him were the merchant who only had

interest in money and the pugilist who only had interest in fighting. Ultimate

success was nearly at her doorstep.

Once Dee had conquered the entire world, which even the half-god

Administrator couldn't do, she would gain the sacred art of everlasting life that

was supposedly hidden in the headquarters of the Axiom Church.

Immortality. Eternal youth.

Sweet chills of pleasure ran up Dee's spine at the thought. A red tongue licked

over her blue-painted lips.

Just then, the messenger mage's orders reached the brigade of dark mages at

the front, and the man-made black monsters took flight all at once, like

darkness itself gaining wings. Eight hundred minions rose on command,

campfire light reflecting off their shining skin, and flew right for the ravine.

Here they come.

Commander Bercouli's lips, which had been closed as tightly as a statue's

since the battle had begun, finally split into a wide grin. He sensed that a large

number of flying enemy troops were entering the boundaries of his Perfect

Weapon Control power, which he was maintaining in the air over the gate.

These were not dragons bearing dark knights. They were soulless minions,

cold as clay.

But he did not activate the art yet. There were plenty more of them yet to be

drawn within his giant web of cuts before they were all there.

Bercouli's finely honed senses already told him about the valiant efforts of

Fanatio and Deusolbert—and even of Renly's initial escape and subsequent

awakening into his power. If they had struck down three of the invading army's

advance-line generals, there was no danger of the front line being pushed back

upon them at this point.

If they could simply have Alice, waiting high above, use all the resources

acquired thus far to nullify the enemy's long-distance sacred arts as planned,

then the unharmed Second Regiment of the guardian army would be free to

fight with the enemy's main force, which was made up of dark knights and

pugilists.

He suspected that his own true part to play would come after that. And not in

a one-on-one fight against his rival, Dark General Shasta.

Bercouli was already aware that Shasta's presence was gone from the

enemy's camp. Most likely, the snuffing out of the great presence in the far east

several days ago had been the final moment of that worthy warrior's life.

As the eldest of the Integrity Knights, Bercouli had lived countless months and

years, and he no longer mourned the death of those whose lives met their

natural end. But the death of Shasta brought him nothing but bitter

disappointment—he was a man who Bercouli had once hoped would one day

help draw the land of darkness and the human realm into a peaceful

coexistence free of bloodshed.

Now the one out there who'd ended Shasta's life, the owner of that vast,

freezing emptiness—whoever he was—likely commanded the entire army of

the Dark Territory, and only by cutting that foe down could Bercouli properly

mourn his rival.

Or perhaps it would finally be the end of his own life, he sensed. But there

was no longer even a shred of him that still clung to living on. If the time had

finally come for him to die, then so be it.

When Fanatio's lower knight unleashed her Incarnate power in that final

desperate moment, Bercouli was both impressed and even a little jealous. But

of course, now was not that time for him. At last, the swarm of minions that

tore through the darkness overhead was entirely contained within the prison of

his sword's slashes.

Bercouli's eyes flashed, and he slowly, easily lifted the Time-Splitting Sword

from its resting point, with the tip against the ground, to an overhead position.

"…Slice!!"

His cry cut forth, a naked blade through the void.

At the same time, in the air up ahead, a multitude of white lines formed a

three-dimensional lattice pattern and flashed brightly. There was a great chorus

of screeching death wails, and filthy black blood poured down on the

nonhuman enemy army in torrents. Minion blood was mildly poisonous, and it

only brought further chaos to the troops that were already without their

commanding officers.

The messenger mage, who had been utterly emotionless the entire time, now

let a faint note of fear creep into her voice, giving Dee an ill premonition. That

feeling quickly became reality in just a single second.

"My lady, I am afraid…that all eight hundred minions have been eliminated

just before they were set to descend."

"Wha—?"

Silence.

A crystal goblet screamed its last as it shattered against the carriage floor.

"But how?! No one told me of any large mage division among the enemy!"

And more importantly, it was nearly impossible to dispatch eight hundred

minions with an art command alone. Because they were made mostly of clay,

they were highly resistant to burning and freezing. Sharp-bladed attacks were

the most effective counter, but the minions were still in the air, far from the

soldiers on the ground.

"…And the enemy dragons have not yet made an appearance?" Dee asked,

finally controlling her anger somewhat.

The messenger mage hung her head. "Correct. Not a single dragon has been

confirmed in the air over the battlefield from the start until now."

"Which would make this…that special bit of Integrity Knight trickery…Perfect

Weapon Control arts. But…can they truly have this much…?"

She swallowed the final word of the sentence and let her bared fangs gnash

with frustration.

Like Dark General Shasta, Dee had attempted to collect information on the

secret technique of the Integrity Knights. But it had been nearly impossible to

witness it in action for herself. The only thing she had unveiled was that it

combined and amplified the power of the Divine Object and of the knight himor herself.

"But using the weapon that way should devour a great amount of life. It

cannot be utilized in such rapid sequence…," she muttered, her mind racing.

Then the messenger mage, who had been listening to reports from the front,

shot upward and said in a voice slightly more composed, "Chancellor, location

of two rear Integrity Knights has been found. Identifying all five knights'

targets."

"…Good," Dee said, pondering. Should she send in the dark knights and

pugilists, who made up the bulk of the Second Army, to force the Integrity

Knights to consume more of their Perfect Weapon Control power, the greatest

unknown variable on the other side? Or should she use the dark mages guild,

her best weapon, and try to finish it all right now?

Dee was normally a very cautious person who plotted obsessively and

removed all room for doubt or concern before she finally acted. But the

instantaneous destruction of her eight hundred precious minions left her at a

loss and filled her with a panic and haste that she wasn't aware she was feeling.

She filled a new crystal glass with more dark-purple liquid and told herself, I

am calm.

This is the moment when I seize my first true glory.

Dee Eye Ell downed the drink in one go, then held the glass high and

commanded, "Ogre archers, dark mages, advance! Proceed into the ravine,

then begin preparing the cast of the wide-range incineration projectiles!!"

"Krururu…," crooned a lonely voice. Amayori was concerned about its master.

Alice the Integrity Knight managed her best attempt at a smile and whispered,

"It's all right. Don't be worried."

But as a matter of fact, she was not all right at all. Her vision was strangely

warped, her breathing ragged, and her limbs felt as cold as ice. She might pass

out at any moment.

It was not the massive sacred art that Alice had been weaving since before

the fighting started—and that even now placed so much pressure on her insides

that she felt as if she might explode—that had her so fatigued.

It was the source of the sacred power that the art itself was consuming: all

those deaths.

Knights. Guards. Priests. And the enemies: goblins, orcs, giants. So many lives

being lost at such an astounding speed—and the fear, sadness, and despair they

felt in those final moments all plagued Alice without end.

The old Alice would never have paid any heed to the lives or deaths of the

common people of the Human Empire, much less of any who lived in the Dark

Territory.

Through half a year of living in Rulid, she understood the divinity of the

humble lives of the villagers and realized that it was worth protecting, but she

did not find herself caring about the lives of those who dwelled in the dark

world. In fact, when the goblins and orcs had attacked Rulid just ten days ago,

Alice had slaughtered them without hesitation.

The forces of darkness were pillagers without mercy or compassion and ought

to be killed to the very last one, she had always believed without a shred of

doubt, until the mission Bercouli had given her.

To her shock…

…the sacred power that arose from the spilled lives of the soldiers on either

side of the battlefield below, whether human or nonhuman, was of the exact

same nature. They were all warm and vivid and pure, and it was absolutely

impossible for her to distinguish which side either of these souls fought on.

At first it shook Alice to her core. But if the people of the human realm and

the monsters of the Dark Territory had, in essence, the same souls and differed

only in which side of the mountains they were born on…

…then why were they fighting in the first place? Why are we fighting in the

first place?

"…Kirito. If you are still alive and well…"

You might have found another way, she did not say aloud. She had to focus on

the sacred art she was still preparing.

At the military council before the battle, Alice had expressed her reservations

to Vice Commander Fanatio. Who would actually perform such a massive

sacred art that it would devour all the spatial resources that existed within the

battlefield—narrow for a ravine but a vast space nonetheless?

Fanatio looked Alice right in the eyes and said, It is you, Alice Synthesis Thirty.

You might not realize it yet, but your present power surpasses the bounds of the

Integrity Knight itself. I believe that you are capable of true godly power that

splits the heavens and tears the earth asunder.

At the time, she thought it was an exaggeration, a misunderstanding. But she

also felt, in that moment, that it was a duty she needed to give her own life to

fulfill, if need be. It was her responsibility, for having turned her sword on the

pontifex and shaken the Axiom Church's very power structure.

She stopped thinking about this and tried to focus on nothing but gathering

the necessary sacred power and converting it to the sacred words that would

further weave the great art.

But the screams never stopped echoing across the ravine, and Alice could not

prevent them from affecting her.

They were dying. Someone's father or brother or sister or child.

…Hurry, a voice said from deep within her consciousness.

If only that moment would come even a second sooner. The moment that

would invite many times more death, all in one awful instance, to bring this

entire atrocity to an end that much sooner…

The nonhuman first wave of the invading army, consisting of mountain

goblins, flatland goblins, and giants, was holding fast just one tiny step short of

absolute defeat.

The three leaders had died in battle. That meant the knights commanding the

enemy force were stronger than any individual among the nonhuman division.

And the one rule carved into the souls of the Dark Territory's inhabitants was

"the one who is mightiest rules."

If this had been a fight between demi-humans, all of the soldiers would have

surrendered completely the moment that their commanders had been struck

down. The only thing preventing that outcome now was the existence of

Emperor Vecta, the god of darkness, who stepped onto the soil of the Dark

Territory in person. The emperor was stronger than any of the ten lords, and it

had not yet been determined whether he or the knights of the human realm

were stronger.

So they had to stay fixated on their original orders and fight desperately

against the guardian army, which was growing bolder with rising morale. The

few minutes this ill-fated conflict bought allowed the Dark Territory's secret

long-range weapon—the ogre archers and Dee's dark mage brigade—to move

into position just short of the collapsed gate.

The plan called for the three thousand ogres to ready their huge war bows in

the front, with the three thousand dark mages chanting their attack arts from

the rear. It would be not ogre chief Furgr who took overall command but an

archmage who also served as Dee's associate.

This mage listened for the orders from the rear and then shouted, "Ogres,

prepare to loose greatbows! Mages, begin chanting the command for the widerange incineration projectiles!! Spotters, begin chanting the command to guide

projectiles toward the location of the enemy Integrity Knights!!"

The "wide-range incineration projectiles" were a large-scale eradication art

that Dee Eye Ell had designed specifically for this battle. It involved converting

all the spatial dark power filling the battlefield into heat elements that could be

transferred to the ogres' arrows for extra-long-range attacks.

Because transforming commands like Bird Shape and Arrow Shape did not

consume extra dark power, their potency upon landing should be nearly

unfathomable. These were the kinds of unprecedented attack arts that were

possible only now and not during the Age of Blood and Iron, because all the

races were united under Emperor Vecta's rule.

Dee also ordered mages skilled in wielding wind elements to serve as spotters

keeping track of the Integrity Knights on the other side. They would set up a

"wind path" that would allow for precise aiming at those distant targets. If all of

the incineration projectiles landed in one spot, it would result in an ultra-highpriority attack that even the great Administrator would not have been able to

defend against without coming to severe harm.

It was that very use of the crude power of numbers to triumph over the

power of a great individual that Cardinal the little sage had been so worried

about.

Amayori gurgled again. However, this time it was not a worried croon but a

sharper sound, wary and full of warning.

Alice summoned her wits, whipping her dazed mind back into shape, and

gazed through the darkness to the far distance ahead.

Here they come!!

Beyond the nonhuman enemies, which still fought with the guardian army

below, a new army was approaching with care. She did not see the glint of any

metallic armor. This would likely be a long-range regiment—the dark mages

guild of the Dark Territory.

They were the ones Bercouli was most careful about, the ones with the

potential power to wipe out the entire Human Guardian Army. But the same

could be said about Alice herself.

The genesis of the large-scale sacred art she had been preparing this entire

time had been an idea from the fight between Vice Commander Fanatio and

Kirito, as it was told to others. It might as well be called a "reflective cohesion

beam" art.

Using the spatial sacred power released by the countless lives that had been

lost in this battle, Alice first generated an enormous glass ball measuring three

mels across by transforming crystal elements.

Next, she built a thick silver film out of steel elements and covered the

entirety of the glass sphere with it. This created a "locked mirror," as she

thought of it. The sphere was kept in a little hollow in Amayori's back, right

between its wings. Alice kept her hands pressed to it, locking in the light

elements that she continually created with the endless flow of spatial power.

Maintaining elements was a basic but incredibly powerful technique that had

tormented greater-arts wielders for generations.

If you didn't keep your focus on whatever flame or ice or wind element you

generated, the orbs would float freely, eventually expending the heat or chill

they contained, and vanish. The upper limit of elements that could be

simultaneously maintained was locked to the number of "terminals" the caster

could use—meaning the number of fingers on their hands.

Prime Senator Chudelkin had utilized his unique body type to do a headstand

that allowed him to use his toes as output points as well, so he could maintain

twenty elements at once. And through some technique known only to her,

Administrator had turned her own silver hair into endings, enabling her to

maintain over a hundred elements all at once.

But Alice could mimic neither of these things. And neither ten nor a hundred

were even close to enough in this situation. The enemy's dark mages guild

boasted three thousand members; assuming each one averaged five elements

at once, that meant there would likely be over fifteen thousand in total.

So Alice had tried to come up with a method that would allow her to save the

elements she generated, even after letting them drift away from her mind's

control. The first idea she'd had was some kind of container. The problem was

that the heat and ice elements used in typical attack arts simply affected the

temperature of whatever they touched, and then they disappeared.

But in the fight on the fiftieth floor of Central Cathedral, Kirito had used a

mirror he'd fashioned from a few steel elements and crystal elements to reflect

the light of Fanatio's Heaven-Piercing Blade. When Alice heard that story, she

had a flash of inspiration.

If light simply reflected off a mirror, rather than affecting it in any way, and if

she could create a mirror that was perfectly closed with no exits and she could

generate light elements inside it…

…theoretically, until the life of the mirror itself ran out, she could maintain an

infinite number of light elements inside it.

The mighty ogres pulled their great creaking bowstrings and pointed them at

the dark sky. Three thousand dark mages raised their hands high, uttering the

command that would infuse the rows of gleaming, pointed arrowheads with the

power of flame.

"""System Call!!"""

It was a chorus of death, delivered exclusively by female voices. Intoxicated

by the sheer size of the power they were channeling, the many mages

continued in tandem with """Generate Thermal Element!!"""

Long, slender fingers blinked with faint red points—but the color promptly

dimmed and snuffed out with tiny puffs of smoke.

The archmage in command of the brigade could not tell what had just

happened at first, and she issued the same command again. But the results

were the same, to her bafflement.

Then her mages, taken aback, began to shout, "I can't generate the flame

elements!"

"It's not going to be possible to execute the wide-range-incinerationprojectile art like this!"

She looked around for the source of the phenomenon and heard the aide

murmur into her ear, "Ar-Archmage…I think that the spatial dark power might

be entirely spent…"

"Th-that cannot be true!!" the commanding officer shouted. Her left hand,

knotted with rings, pointed to the front line far in the distance. "Don't you hear

the screams?! Everyone is dying there—humans and nonhumans alike! Where

could all those lives be going, then?!"

Nobody could answer her question. The ogres were irritated that the order to

shoot their arrows was not forthcoming, but they held their strings regardless.

The time had come.

Alice closed her eyes briefly and prayed.

She would accept upon her own shoulders the sin of taking countless lives for

the sake of just one.

The silver sphere three mels across resting on Amayori's powerful back was as

packed and pressured as it could be on the inside. She pulled her hands off the

surface and drew her sword.

"Bloom, my flowers! Enhance Armament!" she called, splitting the Osmanthus

Blade into countless tiny pieces, a golden swarm that she could control. "Lower

your head, Amayori!"

The dragon obeyed, inclining its body forward. The silver ball rolled silently

forth, and by the time it had rotated one full time, it passed the dragon's head

and plunged into the void. The little swarm formed by Alice's weapon carefully

caught it, cradling the ball and adjusting it so that a particular spot on its surface

pointed forward and down.

Aim…steady.

She inhaled until her lungs were full, and she whispered, "…Burst Element."

It was such a short and simple activation for a sacred art that contained such

tremendous power.

The silver sphere was fashioned to be thinner in just one spot. The searing

luminosity and heat of unlimited light elements focused on that point, melting

the layers of silver and glass until they were bright red…

Pow! It burst forth into the outer world.

Fanatio stood in mute shock as she looked up from the surface of the earth at

a light beam whose power was thousands of times more potent than what the

Heaven-Piercing Blade could create with Perfect Weapon Control.

The other knights and guards simply quaked in fear of what they believed to

be the power of Solus herself.

A pillar of light five mels across descended from the sky to the earth at ultrahigh speed, plunging into the midst of the demi-human soldiers. Then it

changed directions, caressing the ground as it continued farther through the

ravine.

With the roar of thousands of bells ringing all at once, waves of heat and light

billowed throughout the entire breadth of the ravine. Then the space erupted

into a pillar of fire nearly as tall as the End Mountains themselves, lighting the

entire night sky red.

When she first saw the incredibly vast explosion, so close she could nearly

touch it, Dee Eye Ell smiled, thinking that it was the result of her own strategic

masterpiece. But shortly after, the smile vanished from her face as the torrid

heat exploded out of the ravine and toward her four-wheeled carriage.

The searing wind brought with it the dying screams of all the nonhumans and

the dark mages she had worked so hard to raise into a proud combat force.

She stood still with shock as the messenger mage rasped, "Due to an

unidentified drought of spatial dark power, our wide-range incineration

projectiles failed to generate…then a large-scale attack of unknown detail

issued by the enemy eradicated ninety percent of the nonhuman battalion,

seventy percent of the ogre archers, and over…thirty percent of the dark mage

battalion…"

"An unidentified drought…?!" Dee raged, trembling at last with the anger

bubbling up inside her. "The cause is clear! That monstrous spell on the other

side devoured every last bit of magical power in the ravine!! But…it's

impossible! Even I could not execute such an art…Not even the late pontifex

could do such a thing!! Whose work was this?!"

But none of her screaming earned her the answer to that question. How

would she salvage this quandary—and more importantly, how would she report

this to Emperor Vecta? Dee Eye Ell was considered to have the sharpest mind in

the dark realm, but all she could do now was breathe, rapidly and raggedly.

The blowback from that impossibly huge art and the destruction that it

wreaked worked together to crush Alice. As soon as the Osmanthus Blade had

returned to her sheath, she crumpled onto Amayori's back.

The dragon gently cushioned her body, slowly descending in a spiral motion

toward the front line of the Human Guardian Army. The first to run to the

dragon was Vice Commander Fanatio. Her outstretched arms caught Alice as

she slid from the dragon's back.

"…That was incredible spellwork and Incarnation, Alice," Fanatio said,

overcome with emotion. Alice's eyelids rose, giving her a glimpse of the burning

red floor of the ravine and the figures of enemy soldiers fleeing in uncontrolled

panic. She couldn't see any bodies, even. Either the initial burst of light had

evaporated them instantly, or the explosion had scattered them to pieces.

The sight of such merciless destruction and carnage did not fill her with pride,

but soon there came a swelling roar of cheers from the soldiers around her.

Individual voices blended and morphed into one great exultation of triumph,

repeated over and over.

Praise for the Integrity Knights and the Axiom Church ringing in her ears, Alice

finally let out the breath she'd been holding and straightened herself up with

Fanatio's help. The vice commander gave her a sympathetic smile and dipped

her head.

"The enemy has retreated. You guided us to victory."

Alice smiled back at her, then said severely, "The battle is not yet over,

Fanatio. We must consume the sacred power created by that attack for healing

arts, lest the enemy reuse it against us."

"You're right…The dark knights and pugilists that make up the core of their

army are still in pristine shape," said the beautiful dark-haired woman, though

her voice did sound tired. "In that case, everyone on their feet currently, take

the wounded and withdraw toward the Second Regiment! All priests and those

guardsmen with knowledge of healing arts, focus on curing the wounded as

best you can until the power dries up! And keep an eye on the enemy in the

meanwhile!"

The guards scrambled to carry out her order. In the rear, the commands for

sacred arts could be heard, one after the other.

"I will report to the commander himself. May I leave this in your hands now?"

Alice nodded, and Fanatio gave her another smile before trotting off. The

people cleared out of the area, and soon only Alice and Amayori were present

at the front line. She watched the vice commander go, then walked to her

dragon and scratched under its chin, purring, "You did very well up there,

Amayori. I know it must have been tiring to maintain a stationary position for so

long. Go back to your bed and eat your fill."

The dragon trilled excitedly, then flapped its wings and rose into the air until

it could glide back to its own kind at the rear of the camp.

Alice had just taken her very first step toward aiding the injured when she

heard a voice.

"...…Mentor."

It was low and soft and belonged to Eldrie.

She turned around to offer encouragement and praise to her only disciple and

saw the young man, who was always so carefree and saucy, in a dreadful state.

The sword in his right hand and the whip in his left were dyed black with thick

dried blood. On top of that, his shining armor and lustrous, curled lilac hair were

splattered and hideous. How hard did one have to fight to end up looking like

this?

"E…Eldrie! Are you hurt?!" she asked, holding her breath.

With a vacant expression, he shook his head. "No…I did not take any major

wounds. But…I ought to have lost my life in the midst of battle…"

"Why would you say that? You have a duty to lead the men-at-arms and fight

to the very end of this battle…"

"I could not achieve my duty," the young Integrity Knight murmured, his voice

cracking.

What Alice did not know was that after Eldrie had allowed the mountain

goblins to slip past the defensive line with their smoke-screen strategy, he'd

spent several minutes fruitlessly attempting to clear the smoke without sacred

arts, until he'd finally taken his guards and chased after the goblins that had

gotten behind them.

But by that point, Chief Kosogi of the goblins had already been defeated by

Renly, who was generally known to be a failure of a knight. His chance at

regaining face after this failure lost, Eldrie's cool slipped away from him, and he

began slaughtering fleeing goblins one after the other. When he stared up into

the sky at Alice's godly display, he was already splattered in fresh blood.

"I betrayed…your expectations of me…" He returned the Frostscale Whip to

his side and used the empty hand to cover his face. "So stupid…so miserable…so

humiliating…A disgrace of a knight…"

And he had wanted to protect his mentor?

With the power of that great sacred art to alter the heavens and earth? She

was completely beyond his reach in every way.

He was never necessary. What use would a genius have for a half-assed

excuse for a knight like him? He excelled in no area—not sword ability nor

sacred power nor Perfect Control—and he couldn't even be counted upon to

outsmart a bunch of goblins.

The idea that he could be worthy of her heart…of gaining her love…It was

laughable.

"I do not have…the right to call myself your disciple!" spat Eldrie, so fiercely

that blood nearly flew from his lungs.

"You…you did so well!" Alice stammered, in a daze. It was all she could bring

herself to say.

What had happened to Eldrie? There had been confusion at the front line, but

they'd defended against the enemy without too much damage so far.

"…I, the guardian army, and the people of the realm need you. Why would

you berate yourself so fiercely?" she asked, trying to keep her voice as calm and

soothing as possible, but the darkness did not leave Eldrie's eyes. His bloodflecked cheeks twitched, and his voice was barely audible to her ears.

"Need…as a source of power in battle? Or...?"

He did not finish that question. An alien growl rolled through the air at that

moment, drawing Alice's and Eldrie's attention.

"Frrrhh…"

It was wet and throaty, like a wolf's warning signal. Alice's eyes were wide

and alert as she stared into the darkness down the ravine. The smoldering

flames here and there in the valley cast light on some huge shape standing

ahead.

It was not human. The lower extremities were folded at an odd angle, the

waist was extraordinarily long, and the torso was powerful but slouching

forward. The head atop its shoulders was nearly indistinguishable from a wolf.

This was the last remaining demi-human race of the Dark Territory, the ogre.

Alice had her hand on the pommel of her sword already, but she noticed that

the ogre was unarmed. In fact, the left half of its body was badly burned, even

smoking slightly. The burning light attack was responsible for these wounds. But

why didn't it flee along with its surviving companions?

She glanced around to see that the other soldiers were all in the back, and

only she and Eldrie stood at the front now. Wary of the ogre's movements, Alice

asked sharply, "Your life must be nearly down to nothing. Why do you stand

there without a weapon?"

The demi-human growled miserably. "Grrr…I am…ogre chief, Furgr…" Its long

tongue hung out of its open mouth as it panted.

Alice squeezed harder on her sword. If it was chief of the ogres, it was one of

the ten dark lords, among the highest rank of the enemy army. It must be

expending its last bit of strength to attack.

But the ogre's next words took her aback.

"I…saw. You created…spell of, light. That power…that look…You are Priestess

of Light. Grrr…If I…take you…war will end. Ogres return…to the plains…"

What…is it saying? Priestess of Light? The war will end…?

It didn't make sense to Alice, but she could tell she was on the verge of

obtaining some extremely important information. She had to find out more.

What was the Priestess of Light? Where was she to be taken?

But the moment the ogre's words halted, she heard a voice scream, "Why,

you…overgrown beast!!"

It was Eldrie. His bloody sword was high overhead, then swooping downward

directly toward the ogre chief.

But it did not finish its swing.

Alice leaped so quickly, she practically teleported, pinching the edge of

Eldrie's blade between her fingertips and using all her strength to stop his

momentum.

"M-Mentor…why?!" he gasped, falling to his knee, but she couldn't take the

time to explain it to him. She let go of the sword and turned, approaching the

still ogre.

Up close, she could see that the creature's wounds were not just deep, but

mortal. It was charred black from its left arm to its chest, and its left eyeball was

cloudy. Alice sensed that its consciousness itself was hazy, but she asked her

questions anyway.

"Indeed…I am the Priestess of Light. Now, where are you taking me? Who is it

that seeks me?"

"…Grrr…" The ogre's good eye shone. Blood-flecked spittle ran down its long

tongue. "…Emperor…Vecta…said. Only wants…Priestess of Light. Grab

priestess…deliverer's wish…comes true. Ogres…return to plains…keep horses…

hunt birds…live..."

Emperor Vecta.

The name of the god of darkness, as he was known in the human lands. And

that figure was now present in the Dark Territory? And he had started this war

for the purpose of gaining this "Priestess of Light" that he wanted?

Alice committed these details to memory as she favored the creature that

stood before her with a look of compassion. None of the stink of greed and

desire found wafting off the goblins exuded from this wolf-headed warrior. It

merely took part in the war as commanded and pulled back its bowstring—and

nearly all its people had died out before they could even loose their arrows.

"…Don't you despise me? I was the one who slaughtered your people," Alice

said. She couldn't help it, even knowing that nothing would come of it.

The ogre's answer was simple: "The strong…bear as much…as they have

strength. I, too…bear chief's duty. So…I capture you…and take…to...!"

Grrrooooo!!

The ogre suddenly bayed ferociously. Its powerful right arm lunged for Alice,

quicker than the eye could follow.

Ting.

It was the briefest of sounds: the Osmanthus Blade's hilt hitting the sheath.

Alice had drawn it, slashed, and returned it to its scabbard at several times the

speed of even the ogre's attack.

The creature's large body froze.

Alice took a step back, and the ogre slowly sank to the ground. There was a

fresh bloody line across its burly chest, from which the last bits of its life spilled

out as pale dots of light. She reached toward the body of the proud wolfheaded warrior, stopping the sacred power that floated up from it and creating

a number of wind elements.

"Let your soul travel across the plains, at least…"

She swept her hand aside, turning the formation of green lights into a little

whirlwind that rose up and up into the eastern sky.

4

As her forehead scraped the floor of the dragon tank in obeisance, Dee

trembled inwardly at the gaze of Emperor Vecta upon her back.

There was no anger in his ice-blue eyes. He was measuring her value without

emotion of any kind. What kind of action would the emperor take against her if

he found her to be without skill or use to him? The thought made her very

bones shiver.

After an agonizing wait, his deep, smooth voice said, "Hmm. So the failure of

your plan and the death of a thousand dark mages were because the enemy

absorbed and used the spatial dark power before we could…you say?"

"Y…yes!" she stammered, lifting her face just the tiniest bit. "That is correct,

Your Majesty. We had no knowledge that suggested the enemy had a caster so

powerful after the pontifex, so…"

"And there is no means of replenishing that power?" he asked, interrupting

her excuse. But she could not give him a satisfactory response to that question,

either.

"I…I'm afraid…that we will need rich land and ample sunlight to replenish

enough spatial dark power to eliminate the enemy Integrity Knights, neither of

which is in good supply here. The treasury at Obsidia Palace would have

glimstones that can be converted into power, but we would need days to

retrieve them now…"

"I see," the emperor said simply, then turned his sharp features toward the

distant ravine. "But from what I can see…there are no plants on the land here,

and the sun has already set. What source of power were you going to use for

this large-scale magic art of yours?"

Dee was in such mortal terror that she never registered how strange it was for

Vecta, god of darkness and supposed founder of the dark arts, to ask her such a

fundamental question about its workings. It was only the desperate drive for

self-preservation that helped her answer the question.

"Well, Majesty, this is a battlefield…so the blood and life shed by the demihumans and the enemy soldiers becomes dark power that fills the air around

them."

"Uh…huh." The emperor stood up from his makeshift throne. Dee's entire

body went rigid.

His black leather boots approached, clicking on the floor. She felt terror

clenching her guts. The emperor stopped just to the left of Dee, fur cape waving

in the wind, and murmured into the night.

"Blood…and life."

"Priestess of Light…?" Commander Bercouli muttered, broad jaw working as

he chewed on a flat pastry cooked with dried fruit and nuts.

They used the momentary lull in fighting to rush out some rations from the

supply team to the soldiers on the guardian army side. The healing of the

wounded was done for now, and thanks to the help of the Integrity Knights,

who had considerable healing skill themselves, even the warriors who'd been at

death's door were in good enough shape to sit up and sip bowls of soup.

Of course, the dead would never return. Of the two-thousand-plus that had

made up the First Regiment, nearly a hundred and fifty soldiers and one lower

knight had perished.

Sitting across the folding table from the leader of the knights, Alice said, "Yes.

I don't recall that name showing up in any of the history texts, but it seems

clear that the enemy commander strongly desires this person."

"Commander…meaning Vecta, god of darkness," Bercouli grunted.

Fanatio poured siral water into his cup and added, "It's very difficult to

believe…a god, coming back to walk among us…"

"I suppose so. But some of it does make sense. I know that you, too, must

have felt the eerie Incarnation that hangs over the enemy camp."

"Yes…I do sense a chill that seems to suck away the warmth from my bones…"

"For the first time since the creation of the world, there is no Eastern Gate

standing there. Perhaps we should understand that anything is possible now.

But, Little Miss," he said, staring right at Alice with great intent, "if we presume

that Vecta himself has appeared in the Dark Territory, that he wants this

'Priestess of Light,' and that priestess is you—the question is, how does that

affect the current status of the battle?"

Indeed. That was the real question. Even if Vecta was satisfied with gaining

control of the priestess, the other races of darkness would surely continue their

pillaging after that. It did nothing to change the fact that they must protect this

ravine to the death.

But there was another term that had stuck itself in Alice's brain and refused

to leave.

World's End Altar.

It was something the "god of the outer world" had said in conversation with

Kirito through the crystal panel, in the aftermath of the battle at the top of

Central Cathedral half a year ago.

Head for the World's End Altar. Leave the Eastern Gate and head far to the

south.

If she went there, she might be able to bring Kirito's mind back. Yet, no

matter how much she might wish to make that happen, she couldn't abandon

the defense of the gate.

But what if they chase after me?

What if she went through the gate and Vecta and his armies chased behind

her, the Priestess of Light? It might even draw the enemy away from the human

world and buy the guardian army enough time to fortify its defenses.

Alice chose to keep the vague topic of the altar a secret for now. She reported

crisply to the supreme officer of the guardian army, "Uncle…Lord Bercouli. I will

go along, break through the enemy ranks, and head to the distant reaches of

the Dark Territory. If the ringleader of the enemy desires the 'Priestess of Light,'

he will pursue me with at least some of his troops. Once I've gained some

distance and split their forces, strike back at the remaining army and wipe them

out."

In a dry voice devoid of all emotion, Emperor Vecta asked, "Dee Eye Ell, would

three thousand suffice?"

"Huh…?"

She lifted her head again, uncertain of his meaning. In profile, the emperor's

face was smooth, even peaceful, but the way his pale-blue eyes stared down at

the armies below filled her veins with ice.

"In order to have the dark power needed to reenact the large-scale dark art

that will eliminate the enemy Integrity Knights," he elaborated, "would three

thousand lives of that secondary orc battalion suffice?"

Even Dee, who was cruel by the measure of her peers, gaped at this

suggestion. A chill crawled up her legs. Fear struck deep.

But as the idea sank into Dee's mind, it all turned to sweet intoxication. "It

will be enough." She pressed her forehead to the emperor's boot before she

realized what she was doing.

"It will be enough, indeed, Your Majesty. The remaining two thousand mages

will pool their efforts to make it happen…The dark mages guild will perform the

greatest and most powerful act of terror that anyone has ever seen…"

Whether on the human or the dark side, the Underworld's inhabitants' names

did not possess any inherent meaning as defined by their language.

This had happened because the four Rath engineers who'd raised the original

artificial fluctlights had not considered the concept of their names too deeply.

They'd simply picked out foreign-sounding "fantasy" names and given them to

the children and grandchildren under their care.

After the four creators had logged out, the fluctlights continued having

children on their own and naturally had to raise them. The first problem that

plagued them was the lack of an established naming rule.

Without a better choice, the first parents gave their children meaningless

phoneme combinations that were similar to their own. But as time went on and

generations passed, eventually there came to be a system for naming, until it

evolved into what you might call the Underworld's own unique "naming arts."

In short, each of the individual sounds derived from their names were given

meanings, and the combinations that resulted were a way of wishing for that

child's future growth.

Specifically, the open vowels meant sincerity. The hard K sound indicated

liveliness. S meant quick-witted. T stood for good health. N meant generosity. L

and R were markers of beauty, and so on. So as an example, Eugeo was given

his name in the hopes that he would be gentle, hardworking, and honest. Tiese

was given her name in the hopes that she would be lively, caring, and skilled in

the ways of combat. Ronie was cute and empathetic and serious.

Most of these naming arts were shared with the demi-humans of the Dark

Territory. Sigurosig, for example, stood for agility, ferocity, fearlessness, and

then more agility and ferocity for good measure. Only the highly prolific goblins

were an exception, basing many of their names on the roots of Japanese verbs

for pillaging, slicing, chopping, and other such menacing activities. The elite

families of dark mages, too, saw these naming arts as inferior customs and

traditionally took only capital letters from the ancient dark tongue.

As for the chief of the orcs—the final survivor of the nonhuman races' leaders

as of the start of the battle—his given name was Lilpilin.

Lilpilin was known, along with the leaders of the dark mages and the goblins,

as one of the greatest impediments to the possibility of achieving peace with

the human realm, according to Dark General Shasta, owing to his ferocious

hostility toward humans as a whole.

But this was not an innate hatred from birth.

When Lilpilin was born to a powerful orc clan, he was praised as the most

beautiful baby in the clan's history. They gave him a name with three L sounds

in it to indicate beauty—a great rarity for an orc.

As his parents wished, Lilpilin grew into a youngling of considerable beauty in

both body and mind. He was blessed with skill in battle, and hopes were high

for him to become the future chief. One day, he assisted the clan leader at the

time on his first-ever trip out of the orcs' marshland domain in the southeast to

pay a visit to Obsidia Palace.

When he entered the castle town, back arched with the pride he took in his

gleaming armor and sword, Lilpilin saw the thin bodies, lustrous hair, and

comely features of the humans who lived there.

It came as an earthshaking revelation to Lilpilin that his own beauty would

forever have the phrase "for an orc" appended to the end of it. On this day, he

learned that the orcs were mocked by the rest of the dark realm as the ugliest

of its races.

A rounded gut, short legs, a huge and flat-ended nose, squashed little eyes,

and drooping ears—the only reason other orcs called Lilpilin beautiful for these

features was that his face was just barely more human in appearance than

theirs.

Lilpilin's soul very nearly reached its breaking point. The only way he could

maintain his functioning mind was to cling to one blistering emotion.

It was hostility. The brutal and fierce determination to destroy and enslave all

of humanity, crushing all their eyes so they could never again mock orcs for

being ugly, was the force that drove Lilpilin into the position of chief.

So he did not have the innate cruelty of someone like Kosogi. His hatred of

humanity was simply an imprint of his massive inferiority complex. To his own

people, he was a wise and benevolent leader.

"Dis…dis is unfeah!!" shouted Lilpilin when he heard the emperor's orders.

The orcs had already sent a thousand of their number as supplementary

troops in the first group, nearly all of whom had been lost. He'd already felt his

heart being crushed by the knowledge that his people had fought and died

under the orders of goblins and giants, removed from his command. But this

order was simply beyond the pale in its cruelty.

Offer three thousand sacrifices to be the cornerstone of the dark mages'

attack spell.