Chapter 1

The interviews for those “brave souls in every sense of the word” who wished to relocate to the Demiplane’s new sea concluded without incident, and before I knew it, I—Makoto Misumi—had arrived at the day of their final interviews.

Conveniently, my visit to the Kingdom of Limia had been postponed due to circumstances on their end, so we were able to wrap up these interviews first.

I’d already been given the interview reports in advance and had gone through them thoroughly, so I was quite well prepared. Unlike last time, I had a solid grasp of how things worked, which left me relaxed as I waited for our guests.

Once again, seated beside me was Ema, the highland orc who managed the day-to-day affairs of the Demiplane. I would never be able to repay her for everything she handled behind the scenes.

“Then, we’ll begin,” Ema said calmly, and with that, the interviews with the sea-dwelling races commenced.

The first to enter were the sahagin.

They were an eclectic sort of demi-humans—half fish, half humanoid—with shallow dish-like plates atop their heads, reminiscent of kappas, blending Japanese and Western traits in a curious harmony. They could live both on land and in water, but their primary habitat lay beneath the sea.

According to Sari’s reports, they’d spent the entire trial period living peacefully in the sea. They excelled at hunting and gathering and had even experimented with something akin to aquaculture.

My initial impression? These were the highland orcs of the sea.

The sahagin were model applicants. They’d experienced no friction with any other race and clearly expressed their desire to relocate. On top of that, they were supportive of collaborating with the planned port city, giving us no reason to turn them away.

Our interview was with the chieftain and his wife. Green scales indicated males, while vivid red marked females. The men served as warriors, specializing in coordinated unit combat, and they were also proficient in water-based magic. As for their fighting style, it reminded me strongly of the misty lizardfolk.

Everything proceeded smoothly, with Ema smiling the entire time. It was an astonishingly peaceful discussion, and a great start to our day.

“So, who’s next?”

“The merfolk,” Ema replied casually.

That answer made a question flicker through my mind.

“… How did they get here?”

After all, when you said merfolk, that meant their lower bodies were fully fish.

We were sitting inside a structure set up along the shoreline; we’d already made plans to handle any races that couldn’t come onto land later, at a separate venue.

“Apparently, they used something called a ‘potion with a price’ to temporarily take on humanoid forms,” Ema said. “Because of that, they said they wouldn’t require any assistance from us this time.”

“What is this, some tragic fairy tale?”

A potion with a price.What kind of price are we talking about? Losing their voice? Turning into sea foam?

That wasn’t funny. Seriously, if that was the case, we could just go to the water instead.

“Um, the price is apparently random, but nothing severe. The worst case reported was a mild fever.”

OK, that’s barely more than an over-the-counter side effect.

“You didn’t call it a secret elixir or anything, sure, but somehow I still feel cheated,” I murmured.

“Shall I invite them in, Young Master?”

“Ah—yeah. Go ahead.”

“Very well.”

Even if the potion situation left a bad taste in my mouth, once the interview actually began, it became clear that the merfolk themselves had no issues at all when it came to character.

If anything, they were too peace-loving. They’d accepted the invitation to live in the Demiplane precisely because they detested combat.

With hyuman fishing grounds expanding more and more lately, they’d begun worrying about interracial friction and had started looking for a new place to live. That was when our offer had reached them.

The merfolk were highly capable magic users. While they specialized almost exclusively in recovery magic, their proficiency was said to be exceptional.

They also loved the performing arts and had a deep fondness for singing. Because of that, they’d already grown close with the harpies and lorelei, who shared their enthusiasm for music.

Potions helped them adapt to life on land, but the sea was their true home. They traditionally lived in underwater villages organized by race and wished to continue in much the same way in the Demiplane.

For us, of course, that was an easy yes.

Their interactions with the other races were proactive and friendly, and they’d also promised to help with the port city project. After we’d discussed all of this, Ema met my confirming glance and nodded with clear satisfaction.

“To think they’ll be inviting us to hear them perform soon! How delightful,” she said.

Apparently, the merfolk and harpies would handle the singing, while the lorelei would provide instrumental accompaniment.

“Yeah. Since it’s a special occasion, why don’t we throw a big seaside festival?” I asked. “Really go all out.”

“A celebration to mark our meeting with new kin? I think that’s a wonderful idea. I’ll start planning it right away.”

“Thanks. I know you’ll do it well.”

With that, Ema called in the next candidates for relocation, and what appeared was a small mountain, colored marine blue.

Light flooded in as the massive door opened wide, only to be swallowed by a looming shadow. Bathed in that backlight, the mountain’s surface shimmered blue like a gemstone.

We were looking at the shell of a colossal turtle straight out of a tokusatsu film, a blue moon.

This was my first time meeting one in person, and… yeah. It was huge.

For today’s interviews, we were using an enormous gymnasium-like structure which we’d designed to double as an assembly hall in the future. The entrance itself was gigantic, fitted with one of the eldwar’s (the elder dwarves’) pride-and-joy mechanisms: a door that adjusted its opening to match whoever was pushing it.

As long as creatures around our size used it, it just looked like a cleverly painted illusion of a huge door. But when something truly massive pressed against it, the door proved very real.

Ema stood with her mouth slightly open, staring blankly up at the blue moon. It was strange to see her at a loss for words; she was usually so sharp and composed.

Somehow, the blue moon’s body floated gently, as if weightless. Paired with its sheer size, it made the whole thing a little unsettling. Still, I was grateful not to have to worry about every step cracking the floor with thunderous impacts.

How did they get it in here?

Once again, I was reminded just how absurdly deranged the eldwars’ design capabilities were. In the most complimentary sense possible, of course.

“An honor to meet you, O King. I am Hua, of the blue moon.”

Wait, what?

To my astonishment, the words that emerged from the creature’s mouth were in the common language.

Hearing a mythical beast of this magnitude speak felt strangely refreshing.

Perhaps snapping back to herself after being addressed as “King,” Ema straightened her posture and faced him with a composed expression.

“A pleasure to meet you, Hua,” I said. “I’m Makoto Misumi. This is my subordinate, Ema.”

“To think that one so small could give birth to such a vast sea… Truly, the world is wide indeed. Tell me, then: will I be permitted to continue dwelling within this bountiful ocean?”

“Of course. What we’d like to confirm today is just your general place of residence and whether you intend to live here long-term. After that, it’s just a matter of explaining a few basic rules.”

“My thanks. The blue moon exist in communion with the sea, leaving offspring behind. I found myself… ill-suited to the seas of the Goddess’s world, you see, and that troubled me greatly. I cannot yet say whether I can fully harmonize with this sea, but I do find it exceedingly comfortable.”

Ah, so he—pretty sure this one is a “he” from that deep voice—knows this place isn’t just some corner of the Goddess’s World, but an entirely different realm.

When he said they “communed with the sea,” he meant it literally. The blue moon didn’t require partners to reproduce; they truly birthed their young from the sea itself.

Despite possessing a male personality, Hua would have felt no discomfort whatsoever about being the one to lay eggs.

Perhaps the blue moon was a species for whom the concept of gender itself was inherently ambiguous.

Still, it was strange. Unlike with everyone’s favorite greater dragon, Luto, I found myself able to regard Hua with genuine respect.

Probably because there’s no unsettling sense of being targeted. Yeah. That’s got to be it.

Hua was also the only member of his species seeking relocation.

This time around, only two applicants had requested to migrate to the Demiplane entirely on their own, and he was one of them. Logically, it must not have posed a problem for either species, but I couldn’t help wondering if loneliness ever crossed his mind.

According to Hua himself, existing in the vastness of the sea left no room for such feelings.

All in all, a truly serene, unflappable race.

Naturally, there were no issues whatsoever.

Approved.

Just as he was leaving, Hua turned and asked me something. If he ever managed to lay eggs, could I be there to watch?

Apparently, their reproductive cycle occurred only once every five hundred to a thousand years. The odds required bordered on the miraculous.

I told him I would be honored to attend if that day ever came, but honestly, I couldn’t imagine being there when it happened.

When the blue moon departed, Ema let out a long breath.

“Truly,” she murmured, “he was a mountain.”

“Yeah,” I agreed simply.

“They say he came to be called the blue moon because his shell glows faintly under moonlight at night. But even in daylight, he was magnificent.”

“Mm. His address was… undefined, but he mentioned he’d respond to telepathy. So, if something comes up, either I or one of the other races nearby can handle it.”

“For now, I was thinking of asking him to report any unusual resources he happens to notice.”

“That sounds fine. Since he drifts and swims wherever the mood takes him, he might stumble across something unexpected.”

Despite his size, the blue moon possessed an unmistakably gentle, unhurried presence.

That impression was probably influenced by every depiction I’d ever seen of turtles, but still.

“The next applicant is another solo relocation request,” Ema announced.

I lowered my gaze to the documents.

“Ah, her,” I said with a nod. “A scylla, if I remember right?”

“Yes. She does present some concerns,” Ema replied. “If I were you, I would use the interview to determine her suitability.”

“Got it.”

“Then I’ll invite her in.”

A short while after Ema spoke, a girl who looked to be around my age entered the room.

Scylla.

Even in the seas of the Goddess’s world, this race was relatively rare… and, unfortunately, notoriously aggressive toward hyumans. Although the scylla were perfectly capable of living quietly on remote islands in the open ocean, they went out of their way to attack ships, sometimes relocating dangerously close to hyuman settlements just for the pleasure of messing with them.

Any sailor would tell you that scylla were the strongest monsters of the sea.

In truth, this race had very little reason to come to the Demiplane at all. And yet, for some reason, there was exactly one of them here.

“Pleased to meet you, King of the Demiplane,” the girl said, giving an elegant bow. “I am Levi of the scylla.”

A sailor uniform?

Wow. Those exist here? And she’s wearing one?

For a moment, I felt a strange wave of nostalgia, as if I were looking at a Japanese high school girl from another life.

“Nice to meet you, Levi,” I replied. “I’m Makoto Misumi. And this is Ema, one of my subordinates.”

Ema returned the bow, though her expression was noticeably stiff.

“Makoto-sama,” Levi continued smoothly, “I’ve been told this is the final interview. Which means my performance up to today has been sufficient to pass, correct?”

“Yes,” Ema answered.

“Thank you!” Levi said brightly. “Every opponent I faced had real bite. I enjoyed myself immensely.”

The reports on the scylla (namely, Levi) were composed almost entirely of combat logs. And not just skirmishes with other relocation candidates.

Apparently, Levi had proactively sought out powerful creatures living in the Demiplane’s sea and challenged them head-on.

At times, even land-based creatures had become her targets.

There was no doubt about it: she was extremely belligerent by nature.

“If you don’t mind,” Ema said coolly, folding her hands, “I have a few questions of my own, Levi-san.”

“Of course, Ema-san,” Levi replied without hesitation. “Ask anything you like.”

“Your kind are known to favor attacking hyumans. However, there are no hyumans here. One might argue Makoto-sama qualifies, but that’s debatable. Setting that aside, what is your purpose in relocating here in the first place?”

Excuse me?

What category am I being placed in exactly, Ema-san?

“You’re right,” Levi said calmly. “And for most of my kind, the answer to your question is none at all. Which is precisely why no one else is here.”

She puffed out her chest, smiling playfully.

“In short, I’m an oddball among the scylla.”

“Then I’ll be frank,” Ema said, her gaze sharpening. “Do you harbor any hostility or malicious intent toward Makoto-sama?”

That was very much like Ema: careful to a fault. She must have been unsettled by Levi’s roundabout phrasing and decided to get to the point.

“None whatsoever,” Levi answered.

“Because you’re an oddball?” Ema pressed, her tone edged with dry irony.

Levi nodded without the slightest hint of offense, flashing a wide, innocent smile.

“Exactly. Hyumans just aren’t fun at all.”

“Aren’t fun?” Ema echoed.

“Nope. Most of them are weak. And yet, everyone around me keeps competing over how many hyumans they’ve killed. Sneaking around, avoiding the Goddess’s gaze, bragging about how cleverly they did it—honestly, it bores me to tears.”

“…”

“Such a waste,” Levi elaborated. “Being born into such a powerful body, I mean.”

Ema let the silence hang for a moment before continuing.

“So, the reason you wish to relocate to the Demiplane,” she said slowly, “is because there are strong individuals here?”

“Yes!” Levi’s eyes sparked with joy. “This place is wonderful! There are opponents I’ve never seen before—and I’ve even spotted several powerful figures among the sealords I’ve wanted to challenge for a long time. You highland orcs, the misty lizardfolk, even that arach—everyone here is truly magnificent!”

The scylla grew increasingly animated as she began rattling off the Demiplane’s military strength entirely through the lens of her own enthusiasm.

It was impressive. Alarming, even.

As I listened, something in her words made a particular way of thinking click into place.

“Uh, Levi,” I interjected. “Sorry to interrupt, but if that’s the case, even if you don’t have any hostility or ill will, you will want to fight me someday?”

“Not yet,” she replied after a brief pause. “But eventually, I would like to request a match. First, I’m hoping to participate in the Demiplane Ranking.”

The Demiplane Ranking was a mock-combat system initiated by my follower, Tomoe.

Naturally, it had been composed entirely of land-based races so far. None of the races we’d interviewed until now had even mentioned its existence.

Somehow, Levi not only knew about it, but she was also already planning to join.

Ema tilted her head, the skepticism plain on her face. “That system wasn’t designed with sea-dwelling races in mind at all.”

“That’s all right,” Levi said breezily. “And I have no intention of asking for the rules to be changed.”

“Does that mean you’re planning to make your base on land?” Ema asked.

“Hm… not exactly. There are battles you can only experience in the sea, after all. I don’t want to limit myself to just one.”

There it is, I thought. With her,everything really does revolve around fighting.

To be honest, she’d probably get along frighteningly well with a certain someone in the Demiplane.

She wasn’t a mindless berserker, but she was undeniably battle-hungry. I couldn’t say that for certain yet, but it felt close.

“So, wait,” I said, “you’ve fought giant sharks, sea urchins, crustaceans, even moray eels? Why haven’t you tried fighting me yet?”

According to the reports (self-reported, sure, but still), her record of battles at sea was extensive, replete with both wins and losses. She didn’t seem particularly selective about her opponents.

Some entries even mentioned desperate retreats. And for some reason, she’d gone back to challenge those same opponents as many as three more times afterward.

“I just can’t picture it,” she replied after a thoughtful pause. “Fighting you, Makoto-sama. But it doesn’t feel boring, either. From experience, when that happens, it usually means I’m facing someone I simply can’t do anything against right now.”

She smiled faintly.

“So, for now, I’ll wait. By the way,” she added casually, “I get the same feeling from Tomoe-sama, Mio-sama, and Shiki-sama.”

Unfortunately for my peace of mind, her assessment was probably accurate.

“I see,” I said. “Then, as long as you understand that living here comes with rules, and you’re willing to accept them, is it safe to say you want to relocate?”

She nodded immediately. “Yes. I may cause some trouble at first, but I sincerely do want to live here. As for things like currency, I’ll study them as I go.”

Right, currency.

Thanks to Tomoe pulling some truly reckless stunts, I never thought I’d see the day when koban¹ circulated as legal tender in the Demiplane.

That was a problem for later. For now, Levi was clearly willing to adapt.

“Then your relocation is approved,” I said. “Welcome to the Demiplane.”

“Thank you so much!”

Levi bowed deeply, then spun on her heel and headed for the exit with an energetic bounce.

Meanwhile, I wondered if her kin—the ones who gleefully hunted weak hyumans and said things like “Score! another pair of ears!”—felt unbearably tame.

If all you cared about was facing strong opponents, then the Demiplane might truly be paradise.

Just as she reached the exit, Levi suddenly stopped and let out a small “Ah…” that made her sound exactly like a high school girl.

Until she opened her mouth again.

“But if you ever end up at war with someone,” she said brightly, turning back toward us, “be sure to let me know. I mean, if it’s a war, it’s okay to kill as many people as possible, right? Well then, excuse me!”

She smiled without a hint of malice, gave a cheerful wave, and left. I could feel a chill running straight down my spine.

As a species, the scylla harbored a deep hatred for hyumans, though Sari’s reports never explained why. But in Levi’s case, maybe it would be more accurate to call her a battle junkie who loved killing anything, hyuman or not.

It wasn’t just combat she loved; it was the space itself. The dangerous environment where blood flew and flesh scattered.

No matter how you looked at it, she really was an aberration.

“In the sense that her ambitions are directed solely toward battle, she is a relatively safe kid,” Ema said cautiously. “But are you certain this is acceptable, Young Master?”

“She probably won’t even break out of the middle tier if she joins the Ranking anytime soon,” I replied. “I don’t think there’ll be any issues.”

“Those types tend to change once the environment is right,” Ema countered. “Strengthening, perhaps. Or should I say, becoming more vicious? Or even… unhinged.”

For some reason, every one of those words fit perfectly.

Still, the Demiplane Ranking was a tightly controlled system, designed to prevent things from ever devolving into actual bloodshed. I took some comfort in that.

And if Levi ever needed to blow off steam?

Well.

I could always have Shiki or someone help her with that.

Yeah, no. Dealing with a high school girl who mutated her body and charged in while firing off magic indiscriminately was something I’d rather be spared from on a psychological level alone.

“Um, let’s see. Next up is…”

The next group was the harpies: hyuman women from the waist up, birds from the waist down.

I’d always imagined harpies as having wings sprouting from their backs, but the ones standing before us had arms that became wings, a design that leaned heavily into the avian side of things. As a race, they gave off an energetic, cheerful vibe. If I were being honest, they could even come across as somewhat childish at times.

Ema had mentioned before that they’d clashed with a land-based race with a similar temperament, so I was slightly concerned about her mood going into this.

The harpies primarily lived not so much in the sea as along it; sandy beaches and rocky reefs were their preferred habitats. In the Demiplane, they’d apparently taken a liking to a sheer cliffside island a bit offshore.

There was no issue with letting them settle there, so I approved it without hesitation.

Like the merfolk, they were fundamentally a peace-loving race; their love of singing was another point in common.

On the other hand, the complications that came with being an all-female race mirrored those of the gorgons, namely, the need for males of other races to bear children.

During the trial period, several races that learned about the harpies’ circumstances had discussed the matter among themselves. It hadn’t turned into a problem, and as long as everything was consensual, I personally had no objections.

Lime would probably be relieved to hear that.

If, by some bizarre twist of fate, he ended up being targeted… well, with his experience, he’d probably just grin and say “bring it on.”

I wasn’t about to help, but—good luck, buddy.

They also talked about plans to perform jointly with the merfolk and lorelei, so while the topic was fresh, I mentioned the festival idea I’d just come up with.

Their reaction was immediate and spirited: they burst into cheers, fluttering about as if they were seconds away from taking flight. At the end of the interview, the harpies bowed politely and asked us to please take good care of the lorelei, who were scheduled for the next interview.

Harmony among neighbors is a beautiful thing, I thought fondly as they left.

“That was… a lively group,” Ema commented.

“I’m just glad you didn’t get angry,” I replied, remembering the incident when the al-elemera had stepped squarely on Ema’s proverbial landmine.

“That was entirely because they were outrageously rude,” Ema shot back, bristling. “In contrast, the harpies just now behaved quite appropriately, didn’t they? Which means they can behave properly and simply chose not to back then. That is precisely why I was angry!” I really wasn’t in a position to criticize others, but still, expecting wild creatures to behave like trained ones just because they could felt a bit like demanding a wild lion jump through a flaming hoop simply because a circus lion could.

“What?” Ema asked sharply.

“Um, nothing.”

In any case, the harpies’ behavior had fallen within Ema’s acceptable range.

Crisis averted.

“Shall we invite the next group?” Ema asked.

“Yes.”

The lorelei.

They were apparently a subspecies of demons, but to be honest, I had almost nothing I wanted to ask them. Everything I wanted to know was already in the documents.

When I’d asked Sari, the former Demon King’s child who had joined the Demiplane, to handle the investigation and compilation, she’d thrown herself into the task with remarkable enthusiasm—and produced impressive results.

She’d even included an appendix titled something along the lines of “Questions Young Master Is Likely to Ask (with answers).”

Given that, I figured the interview could be as simple as:

“How have things been lately?”

“Same as ever.”

“Great, looking forward to working with you.”

Unlike Tomoe and the rest of my team, Sari was the type to prepare flawless documentation in advance. In other words, she didn’t set things up so I could experience something firsthand as part of a lesson.

Thanks largely to those documents, the interview with the lorelei really did play out just as I’d expected. A casual chat.

We briefly went through the documents. Talked a bit about Sari.

The lorelei clearly relied on her, and Sari seemed genuinely fond of them as well, engaging with them earnestly and attentively.

The fact that she’d stayed overnight in their village on several occasions made that bond obvious enough.

“Oh, right. Come to think of it,” Ema said, “I hear you’re all particularly skilled with musical instruments.”

“Yes,” one of the lorelei replied smoothly. “We specialize in both crafting instruments and performing with them. The Demiplane has so many materials we’ve never encountered before. We’re already looking forward to experimenting.”

“And we’re looking forward to hearing your music,” Ema said with a gentle smile.

“We believe we’ll be able to perform together with the other races before long,” the lorelei continued. “We’re practicing diligently so everyone can truly enjoy it.”

For someone like me, who was hopelessly inept with instruments, making music felt like a genuine superpower. If their whole race was inclined toward that skill…

For them, melody and rhythm weren’t limited to entertainment. They apparently wove musical phrases into their magic during combat, translating their skill with instruments into battlefield effectiveness. “Um,” I ventured, “are you by chance skilled in dancing as well?”

“Yes,” the lorelei answered readily. “We don’t often sing ourselves, but during rituals and festivals, dance is always incorporated.”

Oh, that works out perfectly!

“In that case,” I said, “I’d love to see that during the upcoming performance.”

“Ah, actually,” the lorelei said apologetically, “the dancing will be handled by the sealords. Their dancing’s top-class. They’ve kindly agreed to take that role.”

Right, the sealord.

I’d seen one before, and my impression of the species was still firmly filed under utterly incomprehensible.

So, what would their dancing be like?

My brain immediately conjured an image of a tuna and a king crab reenacting some kind of cursed Dragon Palace musical.

I couldn’t make it stop.

If they were being described as “top-class,” I should probably expect something incredible. Right?

The more I heard, the more it sounded like the singing and music were being set up as the straight act, with the dancing playing the punchline.

This wasn’t a comedy routine. We didn’t need a punchline.

“I… see,” I said, hearing my voice rising. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Yes. Then, with that settled,” the lorelei said politely, “may we continue to reside in this land from here on?”

“Yes. I’d like all of you to serve as a founding race of the port city.”

“Thank you very much! We shall cooperate with Sari-dono and strive with all our strength as citizens of this land.”

Good. Since these guys had originally evolved from land-dwelling demons, they would serve as a perfect bridge between land and sea environments.

“I do intend to have Sari continue working with you,” I explained, “but I’ll also be asking her to oversee support for all the races relocating this time. Because of that, she may not be able to stay in as frequent contact as before. I hope you’ll understand.”

“A promotion, then. That is wonderful news.”

“She’s told me herself that the work is rewarding, and she truly is capable. Besides, if I were to put Ema in charge of two cities, she’d collapse from overwork.”

“Young Master!” Ema exclaimed.

“I’d rather she still have the energy to get angry like that,” I said lightly. “That’s why I’m planning to have Sari step up. Thank you in advance for your support of her.”

Sari hadn’t said the work was “rewarding” just to curry favor with me. I could tell she genuinely meant it. So, I’d decided to let her focus on the maritime side going forward.

Truth be told, based on trust and proven results, I had considered leaving it all to Ema—but given her current workload, that simply wasn’t realistic. I didn’t want to push her too hard.

Now, while I’d made it sound like a cool and composed decision, the truth was the Demiplane was chronically short-handed.

After all, the root cause of that shortage was a deeply troubling issue: the Demiplane’s residents themselves kept proposing new projects one after another.

Seriously.

Everyone needed to rest a little more.

“To think that after severing ties with the demon race we could live in such a bountiful place…” The lorelei representative trailed off, eyes glistening. “Truly, one never knows what the world has in store.”

A couple of the others nodded, brushing at tears welling in their eyes.

Having abandoned a harsh land in search of hope at sea, the lorelei had apparently found that even there, life had never been particularly kind to them.

Misfortune piled upon misfortune.

No wonder the Sea of the Demiplane looked like paradise to them now.

Well, if they were happy, then so was I.

“That’s true,” Ema said thoughtfully. “The demon race is in expansion mode, and they’re stronger than ever right now. But they’re also in the middle of a war with the hyumans. Meanwhile, you’ll be starting peaceful city-building here. One really never knows how things will turn out.”

“We look forward to working with you, Young Master.”

“Likewise.”

With another deep bow, the lorelei took their leave.

“A subspecies of demons, huh,” I murmured.

To me, the differences between the lorelei and other demons seemed like they would fall under racial variation. Maybe there were deeper genetic distinctions? But visually speaking, I don’t know if I would have called them a subspecies.

“Given the harsh environments they’ve endured,” Ema said quietly, “they strike me as very patient and resilient people.”

“The demon race that stands beside the Demon King and wages war against hyumans and the Goddess, and the lorelei, who drifted their way here to the Demiplane,” I said. “Which do you think is happier?”

“That depends entirely on how one defines happiness,” Ema replied.

“Fair point. By the way, Ema, do you hold any resentment toward the lorelei? Or the demon race in general?”

The highland orcs had once been driven to the brink of extinction by a demon plot.

Not everyone knew about it, but Ema did. And that was what worried me.

“No, I have no lingering feelings toward the lorelei,” Ema answered without hesitation. “As for the demon race, I will admit there are some. But it’s also true that I met you because of all that.” She softened slightly as a wistful look entered her eyes. “As Tomoe-sama once told me, ‘All’s well that ends well.’ I think I’m finally starting to feel that way.”

“I see. Then that’s good.”

“Shall I call in the next group, then?”

And the next group was—

They were here.

The sealords.

Three people.

Or three sea creatures?

Eh. Either works.

A tuna.

A spiky crab. A king crab, if I had to guess.

And then, a whale.

But he… he’s so small!

Was this some kind of visual punchline?

A whale that stood barely two meters tall? That definitely counted as small, didn’t it?

I stood up straighter. Given how different this group felt compared to the others, I felt I should greet them with extra care.

“Pleased to meet you, esteemed sealord. I’m Makoto Misumi. This is Ema of the highland orcs, my subordinate.”

In response, the tuna on the left and the crab on the right dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. The movements were elegant, almost knightly.

The miniature whale standing between them stepped forward, then offered a graceful bow of his own.

Despite clearly being a whale-man with limbs, he had an undeniable air of dignity about him.

“Greetings, King of the Demiplane, Makoto-sama.”

After speaking, the whale took a step back, and the tuna-man waiting at his side spoke up.

“I serve as the swift-footed one, handling distribution and logistics. I am Tsuna of the Tuna Clan. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Makoto-sama.”

… Tuna. Named Tsuna.

So, he’s coming right out of the gate with a pun name.

Next, the crab-man spoke, his voice deep and steady.

“I serve as a Gōriki—civil engineering, construction, and other work requiring strength. I am Hana Saki of the Taraba Crab Clan. I look forward to working with you, Makoto-sama.”

You said Taraba Crab, didn’t you?! Then why is your name Hanasaki Crab?! Which is it?!

And finally—

“I am the one known as Ganen,² charged with safeguarding the lives of all, and I also serve as the leader of this delegation.” The whale-man spoke with calm self-assurance. “I am Selgei of the Whale Clan. Being granted an audience with you today fills me with profound joy.”

… Selgei.³

Goddess?!What in the world were you thinking when you made these?

No—actually, considering her, this level of… creative chaos might be a point against divine origin. If anything, they felt too distinct, too oddly refined.

Maybe they were an ancient race that existed long before the Goddess’s rule.

If so, then their history would rival that of the greater dragons.

Come to think of it…

There isn’t a greater dragon that governs the sea, is there?

Wait.

The name sealord.

They’re not actually the guardians of the ocean, are they? No. No way. Right?

“You said ganen, right?” I ventured carefully. “Pardon my ignorance, but as far as my knowledge goes, ganen refers to firefighters. And, well, it’s not exactly a word with the best image attached?”

I mean, really.

Having ganen as an occupation is strange to begin with.

You live in the ocean.

There are no fires.

No fires means no firefighting.

When I heard ganen, it conjured an image of Edo-period town fire brigades. Which sounded respectable, sure, but from what I knew, they were basically groups whose job during fires was to tear down houses wholesale. And when there weren’t fires, they were… well. Practically yakuza.

Were the sealords some kind of “so-and-so family” outfit, then?

The courier role, fine. That I could accept.

In my head, gōriki translated more to “porter–slash–mountain guide.” Definitely manual labor, but still.

The self-proclaimed ganen, Selgei, responded with impeccable courtesy.

“You’re quite knowledgeable. Indeed, even among our people, ganen is a term meaning firefighter, and its connotations are not favorable. Still, I must admit my surprise. You seemed already familiar with the roles of courier and gōriki, and you know of ganen as well? Makoto-sama, you are remarkably well read.”

The fact that only his title was rendered in pure on-yomi was probably something I shouldn’t think too hard about.

Still, being praised as “well-read” felt like an exaggeration. I was only slightly more knowledgeable than the average person.

Courier, gōriki, ganen—anyone who watched period dramas picked those up naturally. If I started explaining things like torikaebee, then maybe I’d deserve the compliment.

“Selgei-sama is fully aware of the implications of his title,” Tsuna interjected, “and yet still chooses to bear the name ganen.”

“No one is more noble of spirit than Selgei-sama,” Hana Saki added.

Yeah, I probably shouldn’t dig any deeper into this guy.

Honestly, I barely even knew what a hanasaki crab was beyond the name. I’d seen them mentioned on travel shows, as food, but as for their ecology or how they differed from king crabs? No idea.

Putting aside their bizarre appearances and even stranger lineup, the sealords were universally well-regarded among the other races. And more importantly, they were exceptionally cooperative with us.

Not just Sari; Tomoe, Mio, and Shiki all spoke highly of them as well.

All the documents showed the sealords to be a disciplined, upright people. No red flags.

Yet the way Tsuna and Hana Saki had just shown such careful consideration toward Selgei bothered me slightly. If there was something going on, I wanted to hear it here and now.

“Is there some circumstance I should be aware of?” I asked gently.

At that, Selgei met my gaze with a grave expression.

“I came here today intending to speak of this to you, Makoto-sama. It is a matter that brings shame upon us sealords, but would you be willing to listen?”

“Of course. If you’re going to live in the Demiplane, then you’re family to us. I want to accept everything, including those circumstances.”

The whale-man inclined his head slightly before continuing.

“The sealords are beings who govern the oceans of the world; one could call us guardians of the sea. Though our appearances differ, we all possess exceptional abilities, and since ancient times we have sought to preserve order in the oceans.”

“Guardians of the sea…”

Yeah, right.

“Though I speak grandly of guardianship,” Selgei went on, “we are still a race, and as such we have experienced our share of friction and internal conflict. There were times when factions formed, dragging other races into wars that split the seas. These events were never recorded in hyuman history. But beyond the sight of land, the oceans have known many battles of their own.”

“I see.”

So, the sea has had its own great wars, just as the land has.

“At present, such conflicts have faded, and we live in an age of peace. However, one issue arose. In truth… I am a twin. I have an older brother. My mirror image.”

“Then the throne would pass to your brother?” I asked.

“It already has,” Selgei answered. “I never intended to contest the crown. My wish was to support my brother and serve our people. With no opposition, the succession proceeded smoothly.”

All right, that sounds perfectly fine.

“Dividing the race through conflict would have been foolish. I had hoped to dedicate my life to being a general, offering this body to the nation and its people. However, it seems that surpassing my brother in certain individual abilities and my position at the head of the military proved problematic. Gradually, a poisonous atmosphere began to form between my brother and me.”

This got messy fast.

How did a group that looked like a walking gag lineup end up telling such a heavy, serious story? Honestly, sealords, pick a lane.

“So, what you’re saying,” I ventured carefully, “is that because you had the greater ability to rule, there were people who resented the fact that your brother became king.”

“There was no difference between us in terms of royal aptitude,” Selgei replied. “I merely surpassed him in areas such as martial prowess and magical ability. That said, it is true that there were those who felt as you described.”

Sure, there were.

If this were the case, I had a feeling it wasn’t just combat ability. Knowledge, competence, results, probably all of it leaned his way.

Public support, too… most likely.

“My brother came to see the fact that I commanded the military freely as a danger,” Selgei continued. “He began consolidating his faction, attempting to bring the armed forces under direct royal authority. We sealords have long practiced intentional decentralization to prevent just such a concentration of power. Ordinarily, my brother understood and respected this system.”

“Wow, so your race had a pretty advanced political structure,” I remarked.

Decentralization.When was the last time I even heard that word in this world?

It wasn’t about which was better, centralization or decentralization; the fact that multiple philosophies of power existed at all was impressive.

Honestly, it was only since coming here that I’d finally begun to understand concepts like separation of powers or the balance between central and local authority. Back home, they’d just been magic words I had to memorize for exams.

“Thank you,” Selgei said with a nod. “I, too, tried to prevent excessive centralization that might sow future disaster while also repairing my relationship with my brother. But in the end, we could not avoid the path toward civil war. I can only be ashamed of my own inadequacy.”

“Civil war?”

“Everyone believed there was no way left to avert it. However, a single ray of light remained. My exile from the sealord’ nation.”

“… Exile.”

“My brother likely intended it as a declaration of hostility when he spoke those words. But to me, it was salvation. I accepted exile, took on the title of Ganen, and became a wanderer of the seas.”

And just like that, whatever chapter of The Legend of Selgei this was, it felt like it had reached its conclusion.

“Um, so after that, you traveled from place to place, and eventually you came to live alongside sealords in various regions?”

“No. Warriors and civilians alike followed me into exile. However, my brother pursued us. We managed to escape with minimal fighting and established a hidden settlement, where we lived in seclusion. It was then that the Demiplane reached out to us.”

“That was… incredible timing.”

“We are all deeply grateful for this miracle. From this point forward, we intend to make this sea our home. To join hands with all who live here, and to serve you, Makoto-sama. That is our resolve.”

The intensity in Selgei’s eyes was striking.

Just as he’d said, he had weathered relentless storms. And yet, even someone as levelheaded as him couldn’t stop a political struggle once it had gathered momentum. That was a heavy truth to reckon with.

“The sealords are well regarded by the other races,” I said after a moment, “and you’ve already agreed to our rules. So, yes, you’re welcome to continue living here. You have our support. Do you have any requests on your end?”

“Thank you,” Selgei said with visible relief. “And yes. This may be presumptuous, but we have two requests. Firstly, we would like permission to participate in the gathering of the strong you mentioned—the Demiplane Ranking? Secondly, on the subject of what I’ve just told you, should conflict arise with my brother’s faction, we would be unable to take part in any fighting.”

“Unable to fight,” I repeated, nodding.

That sounded reasonable, all things considered.

Honestly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d asked us not to take sides at all.

Ema frowned. When she spoke next, her voice was sharp.

“Are you saying that even if they were to invade, the sealords here would refuse to fight?”

She had a point; even as a hypothetical, that was a hard pill to swallow.

“If such a situation were to occur,” Selgei said, his face twisting with bitterness, “we would take our own lives. We know that would not atone for anything. But burdening other races by refusing to fight on their behalf? That is something we cannot endure.”

I understood the feeling, but that didn’t mean I could accept it.

“No,” I said firmly. “That’s not acceptable. Suicide is not an option. You’ll have to find another solution.”

“Makoto-sama… but—”

Selgei’s expression remained pained.

“I apologize,” Ema cut in quickly. “I spoke rashly and raised an inappropriate hypothetical. Let’s treat this matter as homework from Young Master to the sealords.”

Hmm, sounds like Ema didn’t expect such an intense answer to her thought experiment.

“Ema-dono,” Selgei said, shaking his head. “The matter of self-destruction was a conclusion reached after discussion among all of—”

“Selgei-dono,” Ema interrupted firmly. “Please listen to reason. If you don’t… there are several people here in the Demiplane who would consider making that possibility disappear entirely.”

Meeting Ema’s unwavering gaze, Selgei seemed to grasp something at once. He inhaled sharply.

“Disappear entirely? You mean…?”

“I’ll leave that to your imagination,” Ema replied coolly. “Neither Young Master nor any of us wishes for your deaths. Please discuss this matter again, carefully.”

Disappear entirely. Huh.

Yeah. I got it.

If you wiped out the other sealords, then the worst-case scenario would never happen.

Not that an invasion of the Demiplane was likely to begin with. But if we were talking about reducing the odds to absolute zero, that was one way.

“I understand,” Selgei said at last. “Then we shall take our leave. Young Master, Ema-dono, thank you. We look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” I replied.

Just as Selgei turned to leave, something I’d been meaning to ask surfaced in my mind.

“Oh wait, Selgei-san!”

“Yes, Young Master?”

Right, so I’m already Young Master.

“About taking the title Ganen because you were exiled—it doesn’t quite sit right with me. After all, there’s no firefighting work in the sea, is there?”

“Ah, that,” Selgei said with a small smile. “Before I entered the military, I handled volcanic containment.”

“Volcanoes. You mean, in the sea?”

“Yes. There are underwater volcanoes. They differ in appearance, but they erupt just as land volcanoes do. Their scale was modest, but once, I halted such an eruption on my own. After that, I became known as Selgei of the First Standard.”

“Undersea volcanoes. I see. So, that’s why Ganen.”

“Indeed.”

Bowing deeply, the three sealords finally departed.

First Standard and now Ganen, huh.

So, he’d likened an undersea volcanic eruption to a fire. That made sense.

I was nodding to myself, piecing the puzzle together, when Ema suddenly addressed me in a trembling voice.

“Y-Young Master? Did he just say he stopped a volcanic eruption with a body that small?”

“Oh. Yeah. He did.”

Even a “small” volcanic eruption was no joke. I mean, not that I’d ever seen an underwater volcano myself, but a volcano was a volcano, right?

“So, even among the sea-dwelling races,” Ema murmured in awe, “there are powerhouses beyond reckoning. We’ll need to inform everyone.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Aside from the fact that their names are literal jokes, they were serious people. The sealords are definitely not to be underestimated.”

And with that, we continued on to interview several more races. For those who couldn’t leave the sea, we went to them instead.

By the end, every relocation had been approved.

The population of the Demiplane (if that was even the right word) had surpassed two thousand.

Huh.

So, more than two thousand beings saw me as ‘Young Master’ now. Honestly, I would have been perfectly happy just being called the landlord.

※※※

Second-Floor Reception Room, Kuzunoha Company.

At the same time, Makoto was conducting interviews with the sea-dwelling races, his retainer Shiki was meeting with four students.

Jin, Abelia, Shifu, and Yuno of Rotsgard Academy, where Makoto taught under the name Raidou. All four hoped to one day find employment with the Kuzunoha Company.

“Shiki-san. How did Raidou-sensei react?”

Jin spoke with barely enough composure to lift the tea that had been served to him. His nerves were written plainly across his face.

Shiki, of course, answered with the same gentle expression he always reserved for students.

“As far as you’re concerned, Jin, he was fairly positive. He did mention that the pay wouldn’t be particularly high, though.”

“Really?!”

“Yes. That said, this is a workplace where the workload is severe compared to the compensation. You should be prepared for that.”

“I don’t care about money,” Jin replied without hesitation. “As long as I can eat and sleep, that’s enough. The company does provide its employees with weapons and equipment when necessary, right?”

“When necessary. And in accordance with the individual’s ability.”

“Yes! All right—yes!!!” Jin cried, clenching his fists. None of the others had ever seen such joy bursting out from him. It was suddenly, painfully clear just how attractive Kuzunoha was to him, and how single-minded his vision for his future.

“Shiki-san, what about us?” Shifu asked anxiously.

She had connections. After all, her father was Patrick Rembrandt, one of Tsige’s most powerful merchants and someone on friendly terms with Makoto. But neither she nor her sister Yuno felt secure.

Both believed that Yuno’s failure to meet Raidou’s expectations during a recent lecture counted heavily against them.

“About you two…” Shiki began.

The pause that followed lasted only a few seconds, but it felt long enough to hear a gulp echo in the room. Yuno’s expression stiffened visibly.

“Your father has personally requested it, and I can see how determined you both are to pass the Guild’s examination,” Shiki continued. “We probably couldn’t assign you to especially dangerous postings, but… I think employing you would be acceptable.”

“Yuno!”

“Sis!”

The Rembrandt sisters clutched each other, their joy bursting forth like students who’d just received their acceptance letters.

“There is one condition,” Shiki added calmly. “Your pay will not receive any special treatment either. If that’s unacceptable—”

“We never cared about the salary to begin with!” Shifu said at once. “Right now, I want to test my own limits. And for that, I believe the best place to be is close to Raidou-sensei and you, Shiki-san.”

“She’s right!” Yuno chimed in, nodding vigorously. “I want to push myself harder. Much harder. Someday, I want to step into the Wasteland on my own. The Kuzunoha Company offers experiences I couldn’t get anywhere else!”

At that, three of the four students now wore bright, relieved smiles.

Only one remained.

“Shiki-san,” Abelia asked quietly, “what did the professor say about me?”

“Hmm.” Shiki paused, then said gently, “Jin, Shifu, Yuno, could I ask you to step outside for a moment?”

“!”

They understood instantly what that meant.

So, did Abelia.

She closed her eyes, lowered her head, and let out a slow, steady breath. Then she looked up again, her gaze firm.

“Shiki-san. That won’t be necessary,” she said with calm resignation. “Please tell me, right here in front of everyone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“…”

The other three were dead silent, their expressions as tense as when they were waiting for their own results.

Strictly speaking, this didn’t concern them, but Abelia wasn’t just a party member. She was truly one of them.

“Abelia,” Shiki said at last. “From Young Master’s perspective… you possess no particularly outstanding abilities. Your individual growth is already close to its ceiling. Judged solely on your current state, you are competent overall. In the long term, however, you’re the archetype of an early bloomer. Others will eventually catch up to you… and then surpass you.”

“—!”

The severity of the assessment made Abelia’s face stiffen.

“There is no doubt that with experience, you could continue to be useful across a wide range of roles,” Shiki continued. “However…”

He didn’t soften his words.

“The Kuzunoha Company has no need for you.”

“!!!”

“That is all.”

“No way.”

The words slipped out of someone nearby before they could stop themselves.

Abelia herself looked stunned. Being told so plainly—no need for you—was more than she could hide. Her wide-open eyes shimmered faintly with unshed tears.

This was quite possibly the first time any of them had seen Abelia cry.

“…!”

One glance from Shiki told Jin exactly what he needed to do. Without a moment’s hesitation, he gently ushered Shifu and Yuno out of the room.

The door closed quietly behind them.

Left alone with Shiki, Abelia finally spoke.

“So, Sensei really saw through me after all,” she said softly. “That I’m nothing special.”

“…”

Makoto hadn’t seen through her.

The one who’d done that was Shiki.

It was he who had judged her early-blooming nature, who had concluded that her future growth would be limited. And it was he who had delivered that merciless verdict: not needed.

Yet he had spoken those words as if they were Makoto’s.

Normally, he would never do something like that.

“I knew it,” Abelia went on, forcing a thin smile. “Compared to the others, I don’t have a defining strength. I’m not a specialist, but I’m not a true all-rounder either. So, I tried working on my leadership skills. Tried making myself useful through knowledge instead. I did what I could to compensate.”

“Yes,” Shiki agreed quietly. “You did make an effort.”

“Shiki-san,” Abelia pressed. “If I earn merchant guild certification, would that give me a chance? Is there anything I could do that would let me join the Kuzunoha Company? For example—”

“Like Shifu and Yuno?” Shiki asked gently.

“Shifu has incredible talent for magic synthesis. Yuno has compatibility with that strange suit. But if I work hard enough, I could reach their level, too. I could try harder, push myself more—”

“You already know the answer, Abelia. Those two are Rembrandt’s daughters. Young Master would employ them even if their abilities were inferior to yours.”

With proper care and consideration, he added silently.

“So, that’s what they call nepotism,” Abelia said bitterly.

“That’s right.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Why,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Why is it me. Why only me?”

As Abelia pressed on, struggling desperately to hold something back, Shiki responded with outward calm.

“It’s all right. You can cry. You push yourself too hard, Abelia. Being able to look upward and keep striving is one of your talents, but there are times when that alone isn’t enough to endure. You need to learn how to cry. How to bend. You’ve been pushing forward without ever learning that.”

Those words, spoken by the man she cared for, finally loosened the last restraint.

Abelia broke down, her sobs bursting out loud.

As she poured out all of her pent-up frustration and bitterness with her tears, Shiki said nothing. He simply accepted her, drawing her close and holding her.

He didn’t scold her for calling Raidou unfair.

He didn’t grow angry even when her emotions turned toward him.

Because he understood.

He knew that those words reflected her true feelings, but not all of them.

It was possible to admire someone deeply and still harbor negative emotions toward them. And when only that darker side surfaced, it didn’t mean the admiration itself had vanished.

After Abelia had cried and cried until her voice finally quieted, her body still leaning against him, Shiki spoke softly.

“Abelia. Please listen.” There was no reply, only a slight tremor running through her body.

He continued anyway.

“To be honest, I agree with Young Master’s judgment.”

“…!”

For Makoto, the issue was simple: he simply had little interest in Abelia. If she had earnestly begged, he likely would have hired her anyway. That was just the kind of person he was. But hiring her wouldn’t mean watching over her.

She would be treated like anyone else: assigned work and expected to do it well. And if, as things stood now, Abelia were to die someday on a dangerous job… there was a real chance Makoto wouldn’t even remember her clearly. He would provide adequate compensation to her family, and that would be the end of it.

To Shiki, that future was too cruel to imagine.

That was why he had spoken his own judgment as if it were Makoto’s.

“You are weak,” Shiki said plainly. “The Kuzunoha Company takes on many harsh assignments. You and Jin will inevitably be thrown into them someday.”

“…”

“And when that happens, you will die. I can’t say how many years it will take, but I am certain of it.”

“—!”

“There’s little room left for you to undergo a dramatic transformation. That is, regrettably, a fact. And yet, if you continue to look upward, then transforming is the only path left to you. It’s hard to believe, but Young Master himself did transform despite those odds. Which is precisely why there is no escape. Death, or awakening. It is an extraordinarily unfavorable gamble.”

“I’ve heard Kuzunoha also has safer positions.”

“It does,” Shiki acknowledged. “But neither Jin, nor Young Master, nor I, would be there.”

“!!!”

“That is why, Abelia,” he continued evenly, “even knowing the danger, you would choose to stay with Kuzunoha. And you would lose your life. I could see that outcome clearly, so I agreed with Young Master. Even without coming here, there are countless workplaces that would suit you far better.”

“I don’t care about workplaces with good conditions,” Abelia said, her voice firm despite the tears. “The only place I want to work is here.”

As she spoke, she grabbed hold of Shiki’s clothes.

He was already aware of her feelings. And now she knew that he knew.

“You’ve received concrete offers from the Gritonia Empire, haven’t you?” Shiki asked. “An unquestionable great power.”

“I hate cold places,” Abelia replied at once. “And I hate womanizing Heroes.”

“And the Kingdom of Limia will approach you eventually as well.”

“Are you serious?” Abelia shot back. “I’m the one who killed a major noble’s child there. Mithra, Izumo, Daena—we’ll never go to Limia. Unless you’re an absolute idiot, or someone blessed with absurd optimism and miraculous luck.”

Or someone who unconsciously nullifies every obstacle, Shiki thought. Like Young Master.

Abelia couldn’t see it, but at the line about “an absolute idiot,” Shiki was reminded of his master. He allowed himself a wry smile.

“Then how about Lorel?” he asked quietly. “I could arrange an introduction there.”

“Give that opportunity to Izumo,” Abelia said quietly. “She pretends she’s fine, but she’s been carrying a lot on her own, especially about her family.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Shiki-san. I want to be part of the Kuzunoha Company. And not for admirable reasons like those three,” she added, gesturing at the door. “Mine is probably the worst reason of all.”

Shiki said nothing, only gazed at her.

“But I’m serious. I’m set on this, and I’m not backing down. I’ll do anything. Truly anything. So, please.”

Shiki had replaced his own words with Makoto’s, but that choice carried risk. If handled poorly, it could plant hostility toward Makoto in Abelia’s heart.

Whether such hostility could actually harm Makoto was another matter. But as someone who served him, this was something Shiki should never have done lightly.

The reason he did it anyway was simple.

He didn’t dislike this student who had grown attached to him.

He would rather push her away than see her die.

Perhaps because he had walked the path of undeath himself, he didn’t quite reach the point of thinking I’ll protect her if she stays. But his feelings toward Abelia were undeniably different from those he held toward ordinary pupils. Or toward the many women who confessed their affection to him.

“Anything?” Shiki murmured, almost to himself.

“Yes.”

“Even ceasing to be hyuman?”

“What?”

Abelia looked up, searching his face. It wasn’t sorrow she saw there but a grave, unwavering resolve.

“If you push yourself to the limit,” Shiki continued, his voice steady, “and suffer more than you think possible and still fall short, could you make up the difference by abandoning your hyumanity?”

The moment Abelia met his eyes, she understood.

This is the last chance.

If she didn’t go to the Kuzunoha Company, if she didn’t stay by Shiki’s side right now…

There would never be another opportunity.

Abelia had always felt that, just like all the other women, she would eventually be forgotten by Shiki.

Driven by a desperate desire to escape that faceless mass—to be someone rather than anyone—she had set her sights on employment at Kuzunoha.

Even after words that were practically a confession left her lips, there had been no answer.

Still, Abelia’s heart wouldn’t allow her to let him go now.

“If that’s what it takes,” she answered quietly. “If it means I can stay by your side.”

“…”

“I—”

“I believe Lime was looking for subordinates,” Shiki cut her off. “The position involves intelligence work, specialized techniques, magic, and high combat aptitude. He’s been struggling to decide whom to recommend…”

“I’ll do it!!!”

“The grace period before I make the introduction would last until you graduate,” Shiki continued calmly. “I should warn you: party battles up to now will feel like child’s play. Your life may consist of classes, brief rest, and then training every afternoon.”

“I don’t care!”

“You’ll maintain your grades, continue your part-time work, and undergo formal training as a full employee.”

“Of course!!!”

“Very well,” Shiki said at last. “I’ll prepare the environment. Do everything in your power to earn Young Master’s approval, Abelia.”

He spoke her name gently at the end, then smiled, as if he’d finally given in.

In truth, he’d never been opposed to employing Abelia.

Even after saying all that, hiring her at Kuzunoha would hardly be an issue, Shiki thought. Then what do I want for her? If I am prepared to use her, even to the point of stripping her humanity, how much should I reveal, and how deeply should I involve myself?

This is ridiculous. I was certain of my own coldness. And yet, perhaps because I was once hyuman, there are moments when I can’t be like Tomoe-dono or Mio-dono. Abelia’s no more than a stray cat I happened upon. One that occasionally stirs others, but is insignificant otherwise. Am I beginning to find her difficult to let go of? I haven’t even shown her my true nature. What am I doing?

Even as such doubts churned quietly within him, Shiki realized, with a sense of confusion bordering on alarm, that some part of him had wanted this outcome all along.

※※※

A lone figure drifted into the kitchen where Mio, one of Makoto’s followers, was diligently preparing food.

“Oh my, Tomoe-san,” Mio said. “What brings you to the kitchen? That’s rare.”

The visitor was indeed Tomoe, another of Makoto’s trusted followers.

“Don’t give me that,” Tomoe shot back. “You’re plotting something, aren’t you?”

“Plotting? Whatever could you mean?”

“I dismissed everyone else just to ask you this. Don’t play dumb.”

It was the middle of dinner preparations.

Normally, there would have been several people bustling about, but today, Mio was alone. In truth, others had been there earlier, but Tomoe had gradually assigned them tasks elsewhere, one by one, until only Mio remained.

“Even so, I truly can’t think of anything,” Mio replied lightly.

“This concerns Young Master’s escort.”

At those words, Mio’s knife froze mid-motion.

Until now, she hadn’t once looked at Tomoe, identifying her by presence alone. Now, Mio slowly turned around.

“Is this about the matter of me being the sole escort to Limia?”

“That’s right. I’m not saying you can’t go,” Tomoe replied. “But there’s an irritating Hero over there. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m going, too.”

The Hero of Limia, Hibiki Otonashi, happened to be from Makoto’s homeland. A senpai of his, no less.

“I must decline,” Mio replied calmly.

“And on what grounds?” Tomoe demanded. “I’d like to hear the scheme behind that as well.”

“Hibiki poses no real threat. If anything, you’re being overly cautious, Tomoe-san.”

“If we’re talking combat ability alone, you’re right. But that’s not what makes her troublesome. It’s her intuition, her way of maneuvering. We can’t let her get too involved with Young Master.”

“I don’t see what you mean by ‘intuition.’ Even if Hibiki learns something, what difference does it…”

Mio paused, then continued in a voice so faint it was almost a whisper.

“If she were truly that sharp, I wouldn’t have needed to go myself in the first place.”

“It’s not about what she learns,” Tomoe said. “It’s about what she might tell Young Master. Even if it’s just a possibility, we can’t say it’s zero.”

“You’re usually so hands-off,” Mio countered. “Yet the moment Young Master might learn something inconvenient to you, you become overly protective.”

“You little—so that’s how you see me?!” Tomoe said, her voice rising. She wasn’t used to Mio speaking so pointedly.

“Isn’t it the truth?” Mio pressed on. “There are plenty of things you haven’t told Young Master, aren’t there? You even made me keep quiet about killing that revived lowlife in Rotsgard.”

“There are things one learns too early,” Tomoe replied stiffly, “and things better left unknown. Such matters are countless in this world.”

“I only recently learned this myself. That merchant Young Master thinks so highly of. Rembrandt. In his youth, he was quite a cruel man, wasn’t he? Someone who reads memories like you couldn’t not know that. And yet, you’ve told Young Master nothing.”

“And if I did tell him, what would come of it? Young Master would only suffer. Better to wait until he’s grown enough to bear it. Isn’t that sufficient?”

“I can’t agree with that way of thinking. This idea that watching over him is best.”

“Then what is it you want me to do?”

“That, I’ll show you once I get to Limia. Which is precisely why you being there would be a nuisance. I’d like you to rest for a while. There’s plenty of other work that needs doing.”

“So, giving Rembrandt’s daughter a weapon identical to the one we gave Young Master—was that also part of your philosophy?” Tomoe asked. “That caused him no small amount of anguish, you know.”

“Yes. And I was reprimanded for it. I’ve already apologized, and I was forgiven.” Mio’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. “Up until now, I’ve rarely interfered with what you do, Tomoe-san. Are you telling me you intend to interfere with my actions? Do you believe I would hurt Young Master?”

Though the jab struck close to home, Tomoe kept her composure.

“No. I know your devotion and loyalty to him. I’ve never once believed you would act with intent to harm. What I fear is your loss of restraint. You care for Young Master so deeply that you end up undervaluing everyone else. As long as he continues to care for the many, so too must we respect his will. You understand that as well, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That is why I said I would accompany you. To keep you in check.”

“And that’s exactly why I must do this.”

They weren’t talking past each other so much as colliding head-on.

“What did you say?”

“The one you’re worried about is Young Master,” Mio said coolly. “And yet, fools who don’t even realize the contest is already decided keep troubling his heart. Why should he be made to suffer over them again and again?”

“…”

“So, I’ll simply help them understand what kind of man Young Master truly is. That’s all.”

At those words, Tomoe finally accepted that persuading Mio was impossible.

True enough, until now, both Mio and Shiki had generally followed her lead.

Recalling that, Tomoe posed one final question.

“You’re doing this fully aware of Chiya’s abilities, aren’t you?”

The shrine maiden Chiya, who accompanied Hibiki’s party, was said to possess a power that wasn’t magic: an ability to see through something deep within others. Tomoe and Shiki had only just begun considering countermeasures, based on reports from Lime.

“Of course,” Mio replied. “I’m well aware.”

“And even knowing that, you insist on accompanying Young Master alone?”

“This time, I won’t yield.”

There wasn’t the slightest hint of jest in Mio’s demeanor as she angled the tip of her kitchen knife toward Tomoe.

“Very well,” Tomoe said.

Without reaching for her own blade, she raised both hands in surrender.

“How unexpectedly agreeable,” Mio remarked lightly. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

“The fact you started dinner prep earlier than usual means you’d already foreseen it turning out this way, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t want Young Master’s mealtime delayed. Even if we came to blows.”

Once more, the steady rhythm of knife against cutting board filled the kitchen.

“I understand that you don’t wish to hurt or trouble Young Master,” Tomoe said. “But know this: that feeling is shared by me, and likely by Shiki as well. None of us wants to see him collapse. Or break.”

“Of course,” Mio said coolly. “Anyone who would wish for that, I wouldn’t forgive.”

“You said this time you won’t yield,” Tomoe continued. “Then I’ll borrow those words from you, Mio.”

“What?”

“At the very least, take Lime with you. He’s useful in his own way. He won’t get in your way, and he’ll serve well enough as an errand runner on the other side.”

“But—”

Before Mio could protest, Tomoe met her gaze squarely and shook her head once.

“This is the one thing I won’t yield on, Mio. Young Master will find the journey easier with at least one man along. As you wished, neither Shiki nor I will go. Just Lime.”

“Young Master…”

“Please.”

After a brief pause, Mio exhaled softly.

“Very well. I’ll allow Lime to come along. But you and Shiki are absolutely forbidden from secretly following us.”

Tomoe gave an exasperated huff. “I wouldn’t do something so crude. Besides, we don’t know what they’ll try. While he’s in Limia, I’ve already asked Young Master to avoid traveling back and forth to the Demiplane as much as possible. You’ll have free rein to do as you like.”

“I’ll take you at your word.”

“And I’ll honor it.”

“Young Master doesn’t need to exhaust himself worrying about the entire world,” Mio muttered. “He doesn’t have to protect cities while being criticized from every direction. And every one of the nations in this world is too dull to realize it.”

“Don’t overdo it, Mio,” Tomoe warned quietly.

Tomoe feared Hibiki (or rather, the unpredictable variables that might arise if Hibiki and Makoto spent too much time together).

Mio, meanwhile, was seething at the world that surrounded Makoto.

Shiki, Shiki was far more invested in his students than Makoto realized.

Blissfully unaware of all this, Makoto set off for the Kingdom of Limia, accompanied by Mio and Lime.

Chapter 2

The representative of the Kuzunoha Company was visiting the Kingdom of Limia.

For that great nation, it was little more than a minor piece of news.

A trading company headquartered in another country going out of its way to pay a courtesy visit to Limia was somewhat unusual, but to most knights and nobles, it wasn’t worth paying attention to; nothing more than routine merchant politicking. And truth be told, the representative himself felt much the same.

Limia’s merchants had already heard of Kuzunoha’s intentions through the Rotsgard Merchant Guild, and many of them were even less interested than the nobility.

For the time being, Kuzunoha had no plans to expand into Limia. This visit had been requested by the Limian royal family, and Kuzunoha had no major business negotiations prepared in response.

At most, a handful of information-savvy individuals were wondering whether they might use this visit to establish a connection with the Kuzunoha Company.

After all, in the ever-shifting front lines of information, the value of certain products bearing the name Kuzunoha had been gradually spreading through Limia as well.

For a very small number of people, however, this visit carried enormous significance.

On the Limian side, Prince Joshua and Hibiki, the Hero. The Hopleys family, who had lost their second-eldest son, Ilmgand, in the Rotsgard Mutant Incident. And even the King of Limia himself held a measured interest in the Kuzunoha Company and in its representative, Raidou.

On Kuzunoha’s side, Raidou’s retainer Mio was approaching this visit with unspoken resolve burning quietly in her chest.

For all of them, it was obvious that this meeting would not end as a mere exchange of pleasantries.

Finally, the morning came when Raidou, Mio, and Lime were to depart for Limia.

The weather was perfectly clear.

In front of the academy-managed teleportation circle, members of the Kuzunoha Company gathered to see them off.

Teleportation would take them as far as Limia’s border. From there, the journey would continue by carriage.

“Young Master. Please do take every precaution.”

After casting a brief glance toward Mio, Tomoe inclined her head to Raidou.

“Mm. I’ll do my best,” Raidou replied. “I won’t be able to drop by the Demiplane for a while, so I’m counting on you to handle things there.”

“Yes. I acknowledge your orders.”

“Young Master,” Shiki added, stepping forward, “I’ll take care of any miscellaneous affairs at the academy. You should handle student selection as planned. I’ll remain on standby to respond to telepathic contact at any time, so don’t hesitate to reach out if you need advice.”

“Thanks, Shiki. I’ll probably take you up on that a few times.”

Shiki nodded. His expression was distant, as if there was more he wanted to say. But in the end, he said nothing.

Unaware of his retainer’s hesitation, Raidou turned his attention to the forest ogres, Aqua and Eris.

“I’m counting on you two as well.”

“Don’t worry; leave the shop to us,” Aqua replied earnestly.

“We’ve totally mastered customer manipulation now,” Eris added with an inscrutable grin. “I even acquired the skill ‘Demonic Store Clerk.’ Go forth feeling like you’re riding a leaky boat.”

Aqua’s sincere response and Eris’s baffling declaration—nothing new there.

“Also, if your souvenir ends up being bananas, that leaky boat turns into a luxury vesse—”

“All right, we’re heading out.”

Cutting Eris off (or rather, not engaging with her at all), Raidou led Mio and Lime into the building that housed the teleportation circle.

“Such flawless ignoring,” Eris murmured. “What an advanced skill. I never imagined Young Master had already mastered it.”

“There aren’t any bananas in Limia, Eris,” Aqua said flatly.

“Compared to that, what a painfully predictable retort. Aqua, your level’s low. You need to start over with ‘Why the hell would that be?’”

With no one around to stop them, the two forest ogres were soon engrossed in their familiar bickering.

Tomoe was watching Raidou’s back as he departed. She gave Shiki a light tap on the shoulder.

“Shiki, you’ve got a look about you. Something on your mind?”

“… No,” Shiki replied slowly.

“Raidou and Mio are gone. There’s something I want to ask you. Come with me.”

After telling Aqua and Eris to be back in time for opening, Tomoe led Shiki away.

The two of them arrived at one of the academy’s unused buildings.

It was quiet, devoid of any hyuman presence; a place slipping slowly into ruin.

“This should do,” Tomoe said, glancing around. “For the past few days, you haven’t quite been yourself, Shiki. Even earlier, when we were seeing Young Master off, you looked like there was something you wanted to say.”

“Have I? I admit I’ve been busy, but I believe I’ve been the same as always.”

“I would say you seem to be aware of it yourself. And yet, you agreed far too easily to Young Master taking Mio along to Limia.”

“That was… Well. Mio-dono did give me quite the lecture.”

“Physically?” Tomoe asked dryly.

“No, please, let’s not go there,” Shiki replied with a nervous shake of his head.

“As for me,” Tomoe continued, unfazed, “I had my own little clash with Mio. And because of that, your way of thinking has been bothering me.”

“My way of thinking? And you clashed with Mio-dono?”

Shiki’s confusion was genuine. This was the first he’d heard of any friction between the two.

“What do you think of Young Master—no, that’s not quite it. What do you want him to become?”

“Young Master?”

“Your behavior lately may well stem from that,” Tomoe went on. “You’ve been far too invested in the students at Rotsgard. Especially for someone like you.”

“That’s not true!” Shiki said immediately, but his reaction was far too sharp to be convincing.

“If nothing else,” Tomoe added calmly, “what you did for that girl—Abelia, was it?—depending on your reasons, that’s not something to laugh off.”

“How do you know about that?!”

“I happened to pass by. She was broadcasting a head full of pink thoughts everywhere. She looked incredibly happy, I’ll give her that, but the content was something I couldn’t just ignore. I never expected you to show up in the middle of it, though.”

“…”

“Come to think of it,” Tomoe went on, “perhaps the three of us don’t actually share a single, unified wish for Young Master. We certainly don’t want him to work with the Goddess to turn this world into some hyuman paradise. But beyond that, our desires may differ. We may not oppose him, yet it would hardly be strange for us to clash with one another.”

“That’s absurd,” Shiki shot back. “We are Young Master’s retainers, bound by a contract of Domination. Acting against him is not something we could even—”

“And yet, you took your own words and passed them off as Young Master’s to that girl. Depending on how one looks at it, that could be called a betrayal.”

“!”

“There are no absolutes,” Tomoe continued. “Not defying Young Master, while still coming into conflict with one another—that is entirely possible. And those conflicts could, in the end, lead to harm coming to him.”

“I would never!” Shiki protested. “I would never defy Young Master! What I did was for his sake, and for Abelia’s!”

“But the way you handled it, didn’t it leave Abelia with a decidedly negative impression of Young Master?”

Shiki had, after all, delivered a harsh evaluation to Abelia under Raidou’s name, then positioned himself as the one offering comfort.

It wasn’t unreasonable to call that an act of disloyalty.

“Tomoe-dono, that’s not the case,” Shiki said firmly. “I had already given that girl more than enough praise. You could say my role had been to give her confidence. That’s precisely why I had to become the villain in that moment. Doing otherwise would have gone against what Young Master said when he set his teaching policy.”

“But that wasn’t actually Young Master’s assessment to begin with, was it?” Tomoe pressed. “You spoke a falsehood. That fact doesn’t change.”

“It’s true. I lied. But the evaluation Young Master held of Abelia at that time would have been far too cruel for her to bear. For someone who is learning, there are things far more painful than harsh criticism. So, I chose to present my conclusion, drawn from analyzing her shortcomings, as if it were Young Master’s.”

“Then how did Young Master truly see her?”

“He said she was ‘ordinary,’” Shiki recalled. “It took some probing on my part to draw out anything more than that. ‘A scholar who can move,’ or ‘she talks a lot,’ things like that. In short, he had little interest in her. Little impression at all.”

“…”

“He does assign certain traits to other students as well—almost like symbols to help him keep track of them,” Shiki went on. “But at a fundamental level, Young Master does not hold any interest or emotional attachment toward them beyond people to whom he imparts techniques. At first, he said he wouldn’t draw hard lines… that he wouldn’t distance himself too much. Given how close he is to them in age, I thought that boundary would eventually blur.”

Shiki shook his head faintly.

“It never did. Nor did he form a master–disciple relationship like one might with a teacher of the bow. He has remained firmly in the role of instructor, but as a duty. Not a true mentor. And so, even if they could never become true master and disciple, I hoped that, one day, Young Master and Jin, Abelia, and the others might at least become something like friends.”

He paused.

“No. At some point, I realized I had begun to wish for that.”

“Master–disciple, huh,” Tomoe murmured.

“Do you understand, Tomoe-dono?” Shiki asked quietly. “For someone who sincerely admires their teacher and earnestly seeks their instruction, what is the most painful thing of all? It’s not harsh criticism.”

He let the silence linger for a moment.

“It’s indifference,” he finally said. “Being met with no interest at all. Being processed as just another face in the crowd, no different from the rest. That is the worst of it. At least, that is what I believe.”

“Is that something you understand because you were once hyuman and walked the path of scholarship before becoming a lich?” Tomoe asked. “I can’t help but think you’re getting a bit too involved.”

“I don’t know,” Shiki admitted. “But after regaining a hyuman body and spending so long in an academy again… It’s true, I’ve grown attached to the students, just as you say.”

Hearing that, Tomoe let out a long breath and shrugged.

“Good grief. So, that’s where the miscalculation lies. This really is backward.”

“Backward?”

“You chose to play the villain using a harsh evaluation that feltlike something Young Master would say. So, that Abelia would believe he had taken an interest in her, that he had properly assessed her abilities.”

“Yes,” Shiki answered after a moment.

The word backward lingered in his mind, but for now, he simply acknowledged her conclusion.

“And on the other hand,” Tomoe continued coolly, “you’ve already foreseen that if that girl joins us, she’s likely to end up dead. And somewhere deep in your heart, you want to prevent that outcome.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. You’re a troublesome man—made more troublesome by the fact that you don’t realize it yourself.”

“?”

“To begin with, Young Master has no interest in Abelia whatsoever. If she truly wants to work here, you could simply employ her under you, and that would be the end of it. Simple.”

“But if we did that,” Shiki said slowly, “the result would only be her dying meaninglessly. Young Master wouldn’t devise special measures for her sake.”

“Exactly. And so what if she dies meaninglessly? It’s just one foolish woman who didn’t know her place. What’s the problem?”

“…!”

“That is what you would have said when you first came to Rotsgard.” Tomoe’s gaze softened, just slightly. “And that is where my miscalculation lies. Honestly, when you felt repulsed by what I just said, it was because you’ve come to value their lives. Whether that’s all the students or just that girl, I can’t say.”

Shiki’s eyes went wide with shock.

“What?” he murmured. His lips moved weakly, as if it took great effort to form the words. “I… value them that much?”

“Good grief.” Tomoe sighed, shaking her head. “Every man in this company turns out to be hopelessly dense when it truly matters. In that sense, Young Master, consistently oblivious as he is, almost feels more reliable.”

She let out a humorless chuckle, then continued as Shiki stood speechless.

“Since everything hit the mark, perhaps you wanted to complain about how I so casually dumped all matters regarding the students onto you earlier?”

“I would never complain about Young Master!” Shiki said quickly. “But yes. I did think that perhaps he could have said something to Jin and the others. Those young people follow both his and my lectures with sincerity. If that’s the case, then we, too, should respond with—”

“Shiki,” Tomoe interjected, taking a step closer to him.

“Y-yes?”

“Do you remember what I meant when I said things were backward?”

“Y-yes.”

“You see. I agreed to send you along to Rotsgard because I wanted you to rein Young Master in, should he ever become like you are now.”

“Like me?”

“Exactly. I thought that if it came to that, you would never let it go too far. Turns out I misjudged you. Quite spectacularly.”

Tomoe leaned in until their faces were almost touching, her voice low and rough, yet carrying a calm, undeniable weight.

“That’s why I said it was backward. You’re the one who’s grown attached, while Young Master has remained unchanged.”

“So, that’s what you meant…”

“It is.”

“But why did you think I wouldn’t be the one to—”

Tomoe cut him off with a tired sigh.

“You really are too far gone, Shiki. Surely you haven’t forgotten what you were doing before you became Young Master’s retainer? Even if you regained a hyuman body, your past didn’t simply vanish. Try to remember. What was it that you, as a lich, did across the world? And to whom?”

“!!!”

“To hyumans. Demi-humans. Beasts. How many lives did you take in the name of ‘research’? And how many victims were left behind when the results you sought never came to fruition?”

Tomoe was right.

The knowledge she invoked was directly connected to the “final option” Shiki had hinted at for Abelia.

He’d told Young Master there was “insufficient data,” but Shiki himself had plenty of experience manipulating hyuman bodies. If Abelia truly lacked the strength to reach her goal, he had intended to use that knowledge to enhance her, safely.

Given that those techniques were built atop countless sacrifices, forgetting their origin would indeed justify being called senile.

“Ugh.”

“In the past,” Tomoe continued, “you were part of an academy-like institution not unlike Rotsgard. I don’t know whether there were earnest, quick-witted students there, but perhaps the present situation has stirred something ancient within you. Even so, pretending the intervening years never existed, pretending it was all nothing—that’s simply impossible.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Shiki said weakly. “Not once.”

“Then even without me spelling it out, you understand why I expected that role of you, don’t you? Tell me, what color are those hands of yours? Are they hands that can gently pat a student on the head and say ‘good job’?”

Shiki lowered his gaze, staring silently at his hands. He understood all too well what Tomoe was getting at.

“Hmm. Well, if this were Mio, she’d probably tilt her head and say something innocent like, ‘They’re pretty, aren’t they?’” Tomoe let out a dry chuckle. “But that sort of answer wouldn’t suit you.”

She sighed and stepped back, dispelling the accusatory air.

“It’s true,” Shiki admitted, grateful for the way Tomoe’s joke loosened the tension. “I’ve been a bit carried away. More than simple fondness; I seem to have become deeply invested in my students.”

“I guessed as much,” Tomoe replied. “Which means I can also guess what you want for Young Master. You want to correct his discrimination against hyumans, don’t you?”

“Yes. So, you noticed that as well, Tomoe-dono.”

The word discrimination didn’t quite seem to fit Makoto, and yet Shiki couldn’t exactly say Tomoe was wrong.

“Well, of course,” she said. “On the record, Young Master declares that he doesn’t discriminate against demi-humans, and he lives by that. But on the flip side, he discriminates against almost all hyumans. The direct cause is probably that fool who rampaged through the Demiplane. It’s not absolute, though; he’s always made exceptions for people he’s known for a long time, like Rembrandt.”

“You’re right,” Shiki said. “When it comes to hyumans, he never fully opens his heart. He draws a clear line, then observes their words and actions from beyond it. Even at Rotsgard, there were several moments where he stood back simply because they were hyuman. Ironically, that very stance earned him a positive evaluation from Rona, didn’t it?”

“That’s what makes it troublesome. He’s doing it without even thinking about it. Even so, I wouldn’t mind if that part of him softened a little.”

“So, it is unconscious. That explains it, since I truly believe Young Master is firmly against discrimination.”

“He was raised that way. Taught that judging someone based solely on differences is wrong. Skin color, traits they possess or lack compared to yourself, things like that.”

“That’s a gentle lesson.”

“Indeed. But Young Master’s feelings toward hyumans are… complicated. There’s the matter of the Goddess, for one. And more fundamentally, in this world, hyumans are blessed by ability and by status. From the perspective of demi-humans, there are plenty who think that if hyumans have to suffer a little, it’s no great loss. Try explaining things plainly to Young Master as he is now, and I doubt it would sink in beyond the surface. Hyumans do include decent folk, and not all demi-humans are simple or pure either. But still.”

“That’s true. Hyuman discrimination isn’t a phrase one hears in this world.”

“Which is why I’m uneasy. But I’m placing some hope in Hibiki. She’s Japanese like him, and there’s a chance she could nudge his way of thinking in a better direction. Though she’ll almost certainly do something unnecessary along the way, so Mio—no, Lime—will have to serve as a proper breakwater.”

“From my perspective as well, she’s closer to a deadly drug than a cure,” Shiki said wryly.

“I know it’s a gamble. Still…” Tomoe sighed. “I can’t help but wonder whether what I’ve done for Young Master has truly been good for him, or whether I’ve simply blocked his view without realizing it.”

“Unlike me, Tomoe-dono, you’ve always acted for Young Master’s best interests,” Shiki said sincerely. “From where I stand, you watch over him like family.”

He meant it.

The affection Tomoe showed Makoto wasn’t the devotion of a woman to the man she loved; it was something different. Shiki had always seen it as the fondness of an older sibling, or perhaps a guardian.

That was precisely why hearing Tomoe admit to doubt had shaken him.

“And yet,” Tomoe continued, “since coming to this world, Young Master has undeniably begun walking a different path from the peaceful one he once knew. One could say it’s only natural; his world literally changed. But even so, I sometimes wonder whether there might have been a better way. If what I’ve done hasn’t actually narrowed his world instead. Those thoughts, they don’t leave me.”

“This isn’t a world where the powerful can live without killing, wounding, or causing conflict,” Shiki replied quietly. “Young Master changing as he encounters a new world and new norms was probably inevitable. In that sense, I don’t think it’s anyone’s fault.”

“Young Master’s doing his best. Once upon a time, he believed the wider world was something to look up at from afar, and yet he’s been forced onto that stage regardless. There, he’s struggling to find a place where he can finally rest. He was never a vessel meant to swim through a vast ocean of a world like this. And yet.”

Tomoe looked at him expectantly.

“Shiki,” Tomoe continued, “I want Young Master to live in peace. And until he takes his last breath, I want him to remain connected to us. To never abandon that bond. Even if that day comes, I don’t want to be cast aside.”

“That day?

“But Mio is different. She’ll accept any choice Young Master makes. In that sense, she alone is fundamentally different from you and me. As a retainer, she stands equal to us. But in what she wants, she stands apart.”

“Tomoe-dono…”

“In the land of the demons, Young Master achieved Creation. Without a doubt, he’s taken a step closer to standing against the Goddess—and to the moment when he must choose what lies beyond.”

“You mean the moment that could become a farewell?”

“Yes. Compared to the Heroes, Young Master is far more attached to his original world. There is a possibility. Even in the Demiplane, he avoids exercising absolute authority as a ruler. I sometimes wonder whether he truly clings to this world. Or even to the Demiplane. Once those thoughts start, there’s no end to them. Japan or us, which matters more to—”

“Then let’s search,” Shiki interrupted.

“Search? Not ask him directly?”

“Exactly. There’s no need to ask. Young Master’s wish is obvious.”

“And that would be?”

“You’re overthinking it, Tomoe-dono. Young Master would undoubtedly say he wants to go to his original world while still being able to come and go from the Demiplane, and without losing his connection to us.”

“Are you an idiot? We’re worrying precisely because we don’t know how to make that possible. That’s why we’re agonizing over what his ultimate choice might be.”

“Then we simply need to put more effort into it,” Shiki replied calmly. “Luto-dono, the beings who existed in the Demiplane from the start, even the blessings granted by foreign gods—there are still avenues left. At this point, we should cast aside pride and propriety and gather information from every possible faction regarding world transfer.”

“Shamelessly, you mean.”

“Yes. Fortunately, Kuzunoha’s full of potion merchants, we have access to fresh intelligence from the Rembrandt Company, and we can expect knowledge from the demons as well. It’s far too early to give up.”

“Hmm. When you put it that way, searching for a method to freely traverse worlds might be an even greater challenge than dealing with the Goddess herself. You say Young Master’s wish is easy to understand, and perhaps you’re right.”

“And we can still obtain some information, albeit slightly outdated, from the Goddess’s side as well.”

Shiki said this with a crooked, unpleasant smile, which immediately caught Tomoe’s interest.

“Oh?”

“I recently met a bird and a cow who have contacts there. And there’s also one creature whose location we know for certain in Lorel. Kukuku.”

“I see,” Tomoe murmured. “So, even while Young Master is away, we’ll have more than enough to keep ourselves busy. Fufufu.”

In the silent ruins, witnessed only by two souls, a quiet conspiracy was born.

For the first time in a long while, Tomoe smiled with genuine brightness.

“By the way,” Shiki added, “I wonder what Mio-dono has planned to counter that shrine maiden. Even we couldn’t find a decisive solution.”

“Who knows,” Tomoe replied. “Knowing her, she probably has some outrageously unorthodox method in mind. It did seem like she was putting her brain to work for once.”

※※※

Lime Latte was holding his head in his hands.

He was in Limia’s royal capital as part of the escort for the Kuzunoha Company’s representative, Raidou.

What troubled him wasn’t simply the discomfort of their stay the night before in the Hopleys' territory (though that had been awful).

Even if Kuzunoha only had an indirect connection to their son’s death, and the king himself had almost certainly ordered them to provide proper escort in their domain, the Hopleys family had treated the company with unmistakable coldness.

One particularly infuriating headache was the lord’s relatives: brazen, hostile, and barely bothering to hide it. It was like they’d been given official permission to quietly assassinate Kuzunoha’s representative.

Lime had spent the entire time fearing Mio would decide to resolve things through force. He hadn’t felt alive in his own body for even a second.

That night, his expectations had been confirmed in the worst way: assassins infiltrated their lodging. And they were undeniably top-class assassins. And when it came time to deal with them, Lime had found himself doing more of the work than Mio.

Maybe it had been a little bit of spite on his part.

From Lime’s perspective, the Hopleys’ territory was an odd choice for an overnight stop in the first place. After all, it wasn’t as if it were close to the capital. And with the lord himself absent (supposedly in the capital to greet the Kuzunoha delegation), Lime had no idea why they were staying there at all.

Which was why all the ugly speculation—did they have permission to assassinate us?—didn’t feel entirely unreasonable once you filtered it through the behavior of Limia’s great nobles.

The townspeople’s gazes hadn’t been welcoming either. Children, always the worst at hiding their feelings, had stared at them like they wanted to curse them to death. Adults had smiled with eyes that made Lime’s skin crawl.

It wasn’t a place where anyone could truly relax.

Raidou had merely said, “They’re probably still hurting. Ilmgand ended up like that at the academy. “He didn’t seem to realize that the resentment was still aimed squarely at him.”

As for Ilmgand’s case, the academy, the kingdom, and the Hopleys family had all investigated the evidence and circumstances in detail. In the end, the Kuzunoha Company had officially been judged blameless.

Unfortunately, hyuman emotions didn’t settle so neatly.

Given that kind of history, Lime couldn’t help feeling that his master was a frighteningly big man for calmly accepting the kingdom’s proposed stopover in Hopleys territory.

At the same time, his stomach twisted painfully.

And Mio?

She had slaughtered the assassins. Yet instead of being furious at the kingdom’s treatment, she wore a bright, cheerful smile. Lime couldn’t begin to guess why.

Her inexplicable good mood only made his stomach hurt worse.

Had he been an ordinary man, Lime would’ve collapsed long ago, but he was now a proper member of the Kuzunoha Company himself. He’d expected a certain level of ugliness. Something like that, he could wash away clean with a single drink.

So, then why was he sitting here, head in his hands?

The answer was simple: something worse had happened.

Their carriage rolled through the gates of the royal capital, clattering along the main streets past the rubble and clamor of reconstruction and toward the castle.

Here, the locals’ reactions were split: some watched with interest, others couldn’t care less. And those in the first group looked at them with a decent measure of goodwill.

So, far, so good.

The problem began after the carriage stopped near the castle.

Lime had asked Mio again and again:

Are we fully prepared for the shrine maiden’s eyes?

You’ve really handled it, right?

You did something about it, didn’t you?

Mio had nodded, utterly confident. “I’ve handled it perfectly,” she’d said breezily. “Young Master can stay in his usual state. Just conceal the mana body. That’ll be enough.”

For some reason, Lime felt a faint shiver of unease at that. But Mio was one of Kuzunoha’s strongest; she was Tomoe’s equal in many respects. If she said it was fine… Lime had forced himself to swallow his anxiety.

And then—

Lime was the first to step down from the carriage. He scanned the welcoming party, noting who was present, and moved forward.

Next came Mio.

She descended with elegant ease, dressed in a traditional kimono and full makeup. At once, countless eyes snapped toward her. Her beauty resembled Hero Hibiki’s… yet was different in a way Lime couldn’t quite name. A wave of admiring murmurs and breathless sighs rolled through the gathered crowd.

All except one person.

The shrine maiden, Chiya.

She didn’t stare in admiration. She didn’t light up with joy at the reunion.

She clapped a hand over her mouth as if to smother a scream, eyes stretched wide to the limit, shaking in tiny, frantic tremors like her body had forgotten how to function.

Lime had one thought.

Oh no.

He glanced at Mio, expecting to see her frowning in alarm and wondering if the countermeasures had failed.

Instead, she was watching Chiya with the unmistakable look of someone savoring a meal.

This is bad. Real bad, Tomoe-neesan.

For a split second, Lime wondered if he should stop Raidou from getting out next, but it was too late.

Raidou was the last to step down. Of the three of them, he was the only one who looked genuinely nervous.

Chiya stared at him, her brow furrowed in utter confusion as she froze for several seconds.

Then she shrieked. The next second, she lost all control of her body and fainted.

There was a light thump as her body hit the ground.

Raidou recoiled, panicking at the sudden turn of events. As the area erupted into chaos, Lime returned both hands to his head. And then, just to make matters worse, he caught the expression on Mio’s face beside him. Those red lips twisted in quiet, satisfied delight.

His stomach clenched so hard it felt like it was being wrung out.

What kind of punishment game is this? Don’t tell me this is about Lorel. No way, neesan, that’s too cruel.

Thinking of the brutal days that were now all but guaranteed in Limia, Lime pressed his right hand to his forehead and looked up at the sky.

The Kuzunoha Company delegation had arrived safely in the Limian royal capital.

Chapter 3

“… Right. Of course.”

Back in the guest room I’d been assigned, I let out a long breath, half regret and half exhaustion. “We didn’t meet the Emperor in Gritonia, but in Limia I’ve already met the king once. I really should’ve seen this coming.”

My head felt heavy, like someone had set a weight right on top of my skull. I remembered the sensation well; it was how I felt after hours of studying. The point where concentration snapped and everything turned into dull, miserable fog.

I’d been prepared to deal with nobles. That part wasn’t the surprise. But in Gritonia, the most I’d dealt with was the princess and the Hero. So, somewhere along the way, I’d lazily assumed I wouldn’t have to face the king here either.

We’d stayed overnight in the Hopleys’ territory, and they’d been considerate. There were barely any formal meetings with “important people.” They’d told us the lord would offer proper greetings later, which meant we’d been able to take it easy.

And then, the moment we arrived in the capital, everything flipped.

“We’d like to express our gratitude for what you did in Rotsgard.”

That’s how it started: straight into an audience with the king.

Personally, what I wanted was to go check on the shrine maiden who’d collapsed the second she saw me. But I was very politely turned away.

So, all I could do was ask Mio and Lime to gather whatever information they could and leave it to them.

I got through it, at least. My experience dealing with the Demon King helped more than I’d like to admit. Still, the discussions afterward with the nobles dragged on longer than I expected, and there were far more of them than I’d braced for.

I’d come here thinking I’d have a decent conversation with Prince Joshua, then maybe deal with whatever awkwardness awaited me with Hibiki-senpai.

This was way beyond that.

There was also the Hopleys family.

When I actually met them in the capital, something about them felt off. Not openly hostile; their tone was mild, and they even helped summarize some of the nobles’ opinions. In other words, they acted cooperatively on the surface. But every so often, they’d look at me with eyes that clung. Sticky, unpleasant eyes, like mud you couldn’t scrape off.

At least, that’s how it felt to me.

I was pretty sure I wasn’t being paranoid. I caught the same sort of gaze from a few other nobles seated near him, too. And more than once, I saw them subtly checking each other, their faces showing a mixture of restraint and tension that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the power games between them.

If the rumors were true, then Limia’s nobility really did have a passion for political infighting.

I’d taken their consideration back in Hopleys territory as a sign their lord was a thoughtful, tactful person. But maybe that kindness hadn’t come from him at all.

At the very least, nothing we discussed today even touched on Kuzunoha setting up shop in Limia.

Lime had warned me there was a decent chance some kind of arrangement already existed between the kingdom’s Merchant Guild and the nobles. The longer the meetings dragged on, the more that explanation felt painfully plausible.

“Welcome back, Young Master.”

“You’ve done well, Boss.”

Mio and Lime were both waiting in the room to receive me.

“Whew, good to see both of you. Hibiki-senpai wasn’t there, but meeting the king, plus all those nobles after, was exhausting.”

“As for the shrine maiden you were concerned about,” Mio said smoothly, “we were told she may have been overworked and suffered hallucinations.”

“Aye. No danger to her life; she was sleeping peacefully,” Lime added.

“Hallucinations from exhaustion? She’s so small, too.” I frowned. “Hibiki-senpai has to be worried.”

Being part of Limia’s Hero’s party felt like a sure path to prestige, but maybe the workload was brutal enough to grind you down anyway.

Hibiki-senpai was apparently fighting demons on the front lines. And in this world, where it was normal for children to work, maybe that kind of strain was simply expected.

“And another thing,” Mio added. “A messenger came and said that Prince Joshua’s waiting for you. It’s not urgent, but he asked that you notify the person in the corridor once you’re ready.”

“Got it.”

I hesitated, then turned my eyes toward Mio.

“Hey, Mio.”

“Yes?”

“That shrine maiden. It really looked like she collapsed because she saw you and me. You didn’t do anything, did you?”

“I did nothing,” Mio said, utterly unruffled. “Besides, there was a crowd when we arrived, wasn’t there? And she was the only one who reacted that way. No matter what you think of me, I wouldn’t deliberately cast a spell on a small girl for no reason.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Mio replied graciously. “And besides…”

“Hm?”

“If neither you, nor I, nor Lime did anything,” Mio said softly, “then perhaps the cause lies with her. If she attempted something against us and brought that upon herself, then it would be nothing more than the consequences of her own actions. In any case, there’s absolutely no reason for you to let this disturb your heart, Young Master.”

All the while as she spoke, Mio wore the same gentle smile.

For her, who could get surprisingly emotional whenever she was around Tomoe or me, this calm, composed demeanor was rare. She seemed unshakable. Relaxed. Like she had room to breathe.

I’d assumed I’d be leaning on Lime for most of this trip, but Mio was starting to look like someone I could genuinely rely on, too.

Not that Limia was likely to demand any especially hard decisions from us, but still, having two dependable people at my side if things went sideways was reassuring.

“So, she might’ve tried something…” I turned to Lime. “Lime, you’ve spent more time than we have with Hibiki-senpai’s group. As a shrine maiden, does she have some kind of special spiritual sense?”

He chose his words carefully, making sure I could follow.

“She does, to a degree. I reckon she’s real good at seein’ a person’s true nature.”

“True nature.” I exhaled. “That’s pretty occult. Pretty mystical. It didn’t look like she was seeing my mana body with her eyes or anything, so… more like she can see things normal people can’t. Yeah. That’s very shrine maiden.”

“Yessir.”

“I’ll ask her about it when I go visit her later. For now, I shouldn’t keep the prince waiting.” I started toward the door, then glanced back. “Oh, if I’m back by evening, you two don’t have to stay here guarding the room or anything.”

“In that case, Young Master,” Mio said smoothly, “I’ll go see Hibiki. We can discuss the arrangements for visiting the shrine maiden in detail.”

“You’re going alone?”

Even if we were inside the castle, Hibiki and Mio together still made me uneasy for reasons I couldn’t fully explain.

“Then I’ll take Lime with me,” Mio said at once. “Will that be acceptable? You could explore the city as well, but it would be better to get permission to go out first. Today, it’s safer to prioritize business within the castle. That way, we avoid causing offense.”

“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “Please.”

What is this? She’s… ridiculously reliable.

Did Mio level up while I wasn’t looking?

There hadn’t been any warning. But recently, even the arachs among my followers had been growing fast. Maybe Mio was the same.

She was right; technically, we hadn’t received official permission to go out yet.

I’d been thinking, They’re strong enough to slip around unnoticed if they really want to, and that thought alone made me wince.

No. Bad habit.

Order matters. We should’ve gotten permission first. I’d just completely overlooked it.

“Then take care,” Mio said.

“Yep. See you later.”

That faint sense of unease still lingered in the back of my mind. I stepped out and spoke to the guard standing watch outside our door.

※※※

“Now then,” Mio said lightly, “shall we go see Hibiki, Lime?”

“… Neesan.”

Something in Lime’s voice made Mio respond with a soft smile and a subtle narrowing of her eyes.

“What is it?”

Lime took a breath, then asked the question head-on.

“What did you do to Chiya? What did you show her?”

“I did nothing,” Mio replied serenely. “Nothing at all.”

“I told Tomoe-neesan what the shrine maiden’s eyes looked like,” Lime said carefully. “Boss doesn’t seem to know, but you did, right?”

“Yes.”

“You did?” Lime’s face tightened. “Don’t tell me this was on purpose?”

“Young Master isn’t skilled at political theater. And besides, even if my true nature becomes known, all it does is deepen their understanding of him. There’s no problem.”

“Y-your true nature.” Cold sweat began to bead down Lime’s face. “Don’t tell me you’re some kind of greater dragon like Tomoe-neesan?!”

It wasn’t a pleasant kind of sweat.

Still, it was unavoidable.

The last time Lime had gotten tangled up with Luto and had Tomoe’s identity exposed, he’d been proud of himself for not fainting on the spot.

Mio’s smile grew faintly amused.

“Fufufu, no. Not that,” she said. “But it’s something similar. And as for what that girl saw, we’ll find out once we ask Hibiki. I don’t know myself, you see.”

“Seriously,” Lime muttered. “Just what are you people?”

He couldn’t stop wondering what Chiya had seen inside Raidou and Mio. What words would she use to describe them?

Mio’s tone grew almost gentle.

“Young Master’s like a cat basking in sunlight. He has no malice, no hostility. So, long as you don’t touch him against his will, shake him awake, or meddle for your own convenience.”

“Chiya did not look like she’d just seen a cute cat,” Lime said. “Not even close.”

“Then she must have had foolish intentions,” Mio said, wearing a smile with a dangerous edge. “Ah, I don’t know what her ability is exactly, but if every hyuman had something like it, it would be quite convenient.”

“O-okay,” Lime said quickly. “Then I’ll contact Hibiki and set it—”

“No need,” Mio cut in. “You know where she is, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Hibiki’s info is stored in this thing, so I can track her,” Lime said, tapping the sword at his hip.

The blade, given to him by Makoto via Tomoe, had been custom-forged for Lime, packed with several unique functions. One of them was exactly this: he could locate Hibiki without even needing to investigate.

Apparently, Hibiki was currently tending to Chiya.

Hearing that, Mio’s smile deepened.

“How convenient,” she murmured. “Then we’ll go. Now.”

“Right now?!” Lime blurted. “Shouldn’t we at least send Hibiki a telepathic message first, just as a—”

“Oh? I trained her before, gave her a weapon, repaired it for her afterward, and on top of that, I even ceded several merits to her. For someone who owes me that much, I have no need to be polite.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong, but…”

Everything Mio had just said was, unfortunately, true. When it was all laid out like that, Lime couldn’t deny she’d done quite a lot for Hibiki.

“During this stay,” Mio continued, “Hibiki needs to learn about Young Master. Thoroughly.”

“Learn about the Boss,” Lime repeated, uneasy.

The phrasing alone felt ominous.

His instincts were screaming danger.

“Mm. First,” Mio said thoughtfully, “perhaps I’ll have her accompany me to deliver that.”

Her gaze flicked to a cloth sack lying in the corner of the room.

“I didn’t get the full details,” Lime admitted, “but that’s a dragon egg, right?”

“Yes. It belongs to Lyca, the Waterfall.”

“Uh-huh. ‘Lyca, the Waterfall,’” Lime echoed in the blank tone of someone who understood none of those words.

Mio smiled as though she’d been waiting for this moment.

“A dragon so softened by peace that it could be taken down by something as minor as a ‘Dragon Slayer.’ But it can still be made useful.”

“… Wait, Waterfall? Lyca? Dragon Slayer?” Lime’s face went pale as the meaning finally clicked. “Huh? HUH?!”

As Lime erupted into a loud, chaotic outpouring of panic—

Mio simply vanished.

“Hm. So, this is the room where the shrine maiden is sleeping.”

It wasn’t an infirmary; it was a private chamber.

Everything was spotless, yet nothing looked lived-in. Religious tools were placed throughout the room, making it immediately obvious that the owner was in holy service.

“Who’s there?!”

A long-haired woman sprang up from the chair beside an ornate canopy bed.

Mio didn’t so much as blink.

“Hibiki, it’s me. It seems you didn’t attend the audience either. Young Master was worried about you. About several things.”

“Mio-san. And Lime, too.” Hibiki’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t invite you. And you didn’t knock. What is this?”

“It hasn’t even been that long,” Lime said, trying to sound casual. “But yeah. You looked more or less alive, so that’s a relief. Sorry, we barged in.”

“Sorry?” Hibiki shot him a glare. “Lime, you—”

“How much do you think you owe us?” Mio cut her off crisply. “Something this small, I think you can let it slide.”

“Hah…” Hibiki exhaled, shoulders dropping. “Yeah. That’s a hard argument to fight.”

In the center of the large bed, beneath the blankets, was a small hump. That was Chiya, lying unconscious.

“She still hasn’t woken up,” Mio observed. “Young Master is worried about her, too. He wants to pay her a visit, so I hope you will make time for it.”

“Misumi-kun is… But that—”

“He looked pained,” Mio continued, smiling faintly, “thinking he might have done something to her. When it was actually your side that tried something, wasn’t it?”

Hibiki’s eyes sharpened.

“So, Lime told you.”

Lime met her gaze head-on.

He hadn’t promised secrecy. And if anything, given their history, Hibiki still owed him more than he owed her. He had nothing to feel guilty about. At least, that’s what he projected.

“It’s my job,” he said simply.

“Yeah,” Hibiki admitted. “I can’t exactly blame you for that.”

“And besides,” Mio added, “weren’t you expecting us to come prepared?”

“Yes.” A flicker of regret passed through Hibiki’s eyes. “Her eyes are already known, so I wasn’t expecting much. Even then, I asked as a long shot.”

“Now then,” Mio purred, her smile deepening, “what did this little girl see, I wonder? I’ve been looking forward to hearing it. What a shame she hasn’t woken up yet.”

“So, you didn’t… take any countermeasures?” Hibiki asked carefully.

“Nope. None at all. There’s nothing about being seen that troubles me. I thought of it as getting a free fortune-telling.”

“You’re bold as ever,” Hibiki said, her tone a blend of awe and wariness. “I honestly expected you to behave more cautiously.”

“Fufufufu. Hibiki, you say the funniest things.” Mio’s eyes flicked to Hibiki’s face, where she saw a faint shadow passing. “Oh?”

“Didn’t you want to understand Young Master better? Then you should look happier. Thanks to the shrine maiden, you’ve obtained something valuable.”

“Chiya-chan has looked at a lot of people,” Hibiki said quietly. “But she’s never lost control like that. It might be valuable information, but because I underestimated things, I put her through something painful. I can’t exactly be happy about it.”

“So, you have gotten better at maneuvering,” Mio observed coolly. “And yet you’re still soft on your companions. How… lukewarm.”

“This,” Hibiki said firmly, “is one thing you can’t throw away. Not until the very end.”

She hadn’t said she couldn’t throw it away, but the meaning was there.

Then she pushed back in a different direction.

“Besides, Mio-san, you call me warm, but Misumi-kun seems pretty soft on you and the others, too.”

It was true. Makoto was just as lenient with those he considered family, if not more so.

“Our positions are different,” Mio replied. “If your actions match your capacity, that’s not warmth. What Young Master does is generosity born from surplus. What you do is pointless overreaching.”

“You’ll say it that bluntly?” Hibiki’s eyes narrowed. “Then tell me your basis.”

“That,” Mio said, smiling, “is something you should learn for yourself.”

“Huh?”

“I won’t interfere,” Mio continued. “Neither will Lime. As it happens, Young Master has been wanting to visit the area around that lake in Limia—what was it called? He said there’s an errand he needs to handle anyway. Perfect timing.”

She leaned in slightly, voice sweet.

“Why don’t you guide him? You and he are compatriots, after all; surely you have plenty to talk about. Go with him, just the two of you.”

“—?!”

“Neesan?” Lime started.

“Be silent, Lime.”

Mio’s tone alone shut him down.

Then she turned her calm smile back to Hibiki.

“Well, Hibiki?” Mio asked pleasantly. “If you’ll guide Young Master by yourself, then I’m willing to erase every debt you owe us up to now.”

“That depends on where he wants to go,” Hibiki said after a beat. “But I can make time. I’ve been thinking for a while that Misumi-kun and I needed a proper chance to talk anyway.”

At Hibiki’s agreeable answer, Lime’s brow furrowed.

So, she did think it was necessary, yet she didn’t create an opportunity right away. She made Boss sit through the meetings with all those nobles first, let us gather information, let the atmosphere turn sour. And then she steps in afterward, when he’s tired, when he’s more likely to just feel relieved that he’s seeing a familiar face. Some of those nobles were probably doing her bidding, too. Even the “nursing Chiya” excuse turned into a convenient excuse.

Hibiki is not “lukewarm.” That thing she said you shouldn’t throw away until the very end? Maybe it’s something she’ll toss the moment it reaches the edge. If Mio-neesan’s going to put the Boss and Hibiki alone together, then at least I need to keep tabs. Tomoe-neesan was worried, too.

“I’m going to this much trouble to set the table for you,” Mio said smoothly. “So, you’ll make it happen. Whatever place Young Master wants to visit, you will ensure he can go. If the Hero says she’ll accompany him, you can make others accept it easily enough, can’t you?”

“He is a guest invited by the Kingdom of Limia,” Hibiki replied, “but his standing is still that of a mere merchant. There are places he wouldn’t be allowed to enter.”

“Hibiki”. Mio’s smile thinned. “Young Master was summoned here as thanks for saving your king and your prince. I have no interest in your pretense. If you intend to add conditions after I’ve arranged everything this far—”

“Hibiki,” Lime cut in quickly. “It ain’t a bad deal, is it?”

He kept his tone steady, even as a cold edge of urgency ran through him. He could already guess what Mio was about to say next. And it wasn’t something she should say out loud.

“Boss isn’t the kind of man who’ll cause you trouble. If you know him, you already know that, don’t you?”

Hibiki’s lips tightened.

“Fine,” she said. “Not today; that’s impossible. Tomorrow, or the day after. I’ll work around Misumi-kun’s schedule and guide him myself.”

Her gaze sharpened as she looked at Mio.

“Just to confirm, only Misumi-kun and I. That’s what you want?”

It sounded like a question.

From Hibiki’s point of view, Mio had always disliked other women drawing close to Makoto. And yet here she was, practically pushing Hibiki into a one-on-one situation.

Not suspecting an ulterior motive would’ve been stupid.

“Of course,” Mio said sweetly. “Young Master has been tired lately, so we should do everything we can to help him relax. I’m leaving it to you, Hibiki.”

“Of course.” Hibiki answered carefully. “I’ll do what I can. And since Chiya-chan’s still resting, that’s enough for today.”

“Naturally. Our business is concluded.” Mio turned on her heel. “Come, Lime.”

“Yes, neesan.”

As she was leaving, Mio looked back over her shoulder and called to Hibiki once more.

“Oh, Hibiki? This is a request. Starting fresh, all debts erased. When you learn what the shrine maiden saw, do tell me. I’m very interested.”

“I’ll do my best,” Hibiki replied. “But I can’t promise.”

The spot where Mio and Lime had vanished into the shadows remained in Hibiki’s gaze for a long moment, her expression grave.

Something was being set in motion.

That much, even she could tell.

She hadn’t spoken it aloud to anyone yet, but she’d also reached a certain hypothesis about the man calling himself Raidou. Makoto Misumi. Her desire for information about him (and about the people around him) was so strong, she could feel it in her throat.

But the preparation was too perfect. And Chiya’s reaction had been completely beyond anything Hibiki could have anticipated.

“What did she see?” Hibiki whispered to herself. “That’s what I want to know most. If possible, I’d rather hear it before I guide Misumi-kun…”

Her eyes drifted toward the girl, who looked utterly peaceful in sleep.

“… But they told me it’s best to wait for her to wake up on her own.”

Hibiki let out a short breath.

That lingering sense of dread wouldn’t leave her.

Ever since Chiya collapsed, an icy chill had clung to the back of Hibiki’s neck like a curse.

Meanwhile, back in the guest quarters, Lime was slumped forward in front of Mio, his face drained of all life. The way his body sagged, as if his joints had simply given up, was almost pitiful.

“Please,” he groaned. “I’m begging you. If I hadn’t cut in, you were this close to saying something like ‘I’ll turn the capital to ash’ right in front of Hibiki.”

“I was a little irritated,” Mio admitted, clearly unbothered. “She was trying to be clever. Should’ve accepted what was offered and kept quiet. Still, yes; saying I’d erase the capital would have been inappropriate. You saved me, Lime. Young Master would have been troubled.”

“Another thing,” Lime pressed, sweat gathering at his temples. “Putting Hibiki and the Boss alone together, that ain’t a great idea. Tomoe-nee—”

“Lime.”

“Y-yeah?”

“There is no problem.”

“No problem,” Lime repeated weakly.

“Yes. None.”

“I see.”

At that point, there was nothing else he could say.

So, Lime grudgingly shifted gears, deciding he’d have to find a way to discreetly monitor the two of them.

And then, Mio’s pleasant voice slid in like a blade.

“If you try to spy on them, I’ll do something interesting, Lime. Something very, very interesting.”

Lime had absolutely nothing to say.

On the first day of their stay in the royal capital, a heavy curtain of storm clouds had already rolled in over his future.

Chapter 4

Prince Joshua’s room.

There were no nobles in attendance, just the two of us.

After receiving permission to enter, what greeted my eyes was Prince Joshua… except not the Prince Joshua I was used to.

The usual masculine presentation was gone. Instead, she wore a dress. It was simple but elegant, in a way that made the room feel different.

“Honestly, I never imagined Raidou-dono was from another world,” Joshua said once our reminiscences of Rotsgard had settled into a lull. “A Hero or a Demon King, perhaps, but a merchant being summoned? That’s beyond what anyone would reasonably expect.”

“?!”

“I heard it from Hibiki,” she continued smoothly. “That you and she are from the same world, and that you knew each other back there. Of course, only His Majesty and I know this. We haven’t told the Hopleys family either, despite our time together in Rotsgard.”

So, Hibiki-senpai told them.

If so, it wasn’t strange that Joshua knew. Still, to share something that sensitive meant Hibiki and the Limian royal family had a real foundation of trust.

I’d even entertained a stupid theory at some point: that, despite being a Hero, Hibiki might be treated poorly because she was often at the front lines and the nobility held so much power here.

Looks like that was just my imagination.

Honestly, I felt relieved.

“I see. From Senpai,” I said carefully. “Yeah, Hibiki-senpai and I are from the same hometown. I didn’t really know how to explain it, so I’ve rarely spoken about my background.”

“I can understand that,” Joshua said with a nod. “In cases like Hibiki’s, where one’s identity is guaranteed by a god, that sort of disclosure’s easier. But in your case, it was sudden, wasn’t it? When Hibiki told me, I was shocked. And at the same time, I found myself respecting you even more. In spite of what happened, you still managed to build yourself into a successful merchant.”

“It’s not that impressive.”

More like bad luck had twisted into good luck in ways I didn’t fully deserve (and it was true that a lot of what I had now wasn’t solely “my” accomplishment).

Hibiki and I had already talked about how I ended up here. Well, kind of. I’d kept it vague, and it was good to know that Prince Joshua hadn’t heard the full story either.

If I explained it properly to Senpai, I’d have to admit the root cause was my family and me.

Hibiki-senpai and the Empire’s Hero, Tomoki, neither of them should’ve ever had any reason to touch a world like this in the first place.

And yet because of me, the Goddess forced a choice onto them.

No matter how you sliced it, they were victims.

Being told to decide, within a ridiculously short time, whether to abandon your world… there’s no way anyone could make the “right” call.

Even I’d made my decision for reasons I believed in, and I still regretted it every waking moment.

So, I couldn’t pretend Hibiki-senpai or Tomoki didn’t regret their answers either. I knew I would need to apologize to both of them someday.

How was I even supposed to start?

I’d been stuck on that question for a long time. And with Tomoki, things got even worse after everything that happened with Tomoe, so it was even harder to bring up.

With Senpai, at least, I might have been able to say it.

Maybe.

Still, because of all that, I don’t want to end up opposing them if I can avoid it. Not truly. Tsukuyomi-sama had asked me for the same thing, too; softly, but clearly.

It’s complicated.

It’s exhausting.

“Still,” Joshua was saying, “it also explains why you’re so strong. When Hibiki got here, she already had the power to fight a knight commander head-on. And she had remarkable knowledge and wisdom, having studied a broad range of disciplines at that academy—Nakatsuhara, was it? If that’s the case, then it isn’t so strange that you, who studied in the same place, were able to start a business in this world from nothing and bring it onto stable footing.”

No! That’s—no. That’s a misunderstanding of catastrophic proportions.

Joshua was making my high school sound like some kind of elite institution for world-conquering prodigies. And using Hibiki-senpai as the benchmark was really not fair.

Could I reach her level in a year, just because I started school a year after her?

No chance.

Honestly, I don’t think I could reach her even if you gave me my whole life.

Oddly, if Joshua was talking like this, then Hibiki must’ve made it sound like high school students regularly launched successful businesses back where we came from.

“Hibiki-senpai was exceptional, even among us,” I said. “Compared to her, I’m honestly nowhere close. Even with business, sure, I can handle something like the guild exam. But when it comes to real work, I get tripped up all the time by local customs and my own inexperience. I’m not as capable as you imagine, Joshua-sama.”

Joshua’s expression softened, becoming almost amused.

“Hibiki spoke very highly of you,” she said. “She said that if she could stand shoulder to shoulder with you, there would be no one more reassuring. That much praise even surprised His Majesty. And the merchants’ guild exam, from what I hear, requires extensive study. For you to dismiss it as ‘just an exam,’ even if you don’t realize it yourself, suggests you truly are competent. In any field, the ability to clear obstacles through one’s own effort and capability is, in itself, proof of excellence.”

Pretty sure that compliment is actually aimed at Mio and Beren, I thought. Not me.

I wasn’t blind to how absurdly lucky I’d been with people, at least.

There was no way Hibiki-senpai had noticed what I’d done in Limia, and she definitely didn’t know I’d dealt with the Purple Mist incident either.

Even for her, the only material she could be using to evaluate me was the company’s talent around me.

“Aha…” I forced a laugh. “Hearing it put like that is kind of scary.”

Grasping for a safer topic, I pointed at her clothes.

“Speaking of surprises, Joshua-sama, your outfit surprised me, too. So, you dress normally indoors, after all.”

“No,” Joshua said, shaking her head almost apologetically. “I don’t normally dress like this even in private. In truth, it’s been a long time since I removed my male attire within the castle.”

“Oh. Really?”

“This room has been secured with considerable care,” she explained. “There’s no concern of anyone peering in. And the other reason is that the guest I’m receiving is you.”

“Because I already know the situation,” I said.

“Yes. If my presentation were merely a hobby, it would be one thing. But it isn’t.”

“So, it really is different.”

“I don’t wear men’s clothing because I enjoy it. It is a means to an end. If it is necessary, I do it without hesitation. If it is unnecessary, it is not something I choose.”

“A means,” I murmured. Not wanting to pry, I kept my response deliberately neutral. “So, there are complicated circumstances.”

Whether her disguise was a preference or a strategy, it wasn’t something I felt any strong curiosity about. I just wanted to steer the conversation back to safer ground before I stepped right on top of a verbal hornet’s nest.

The fact that I’d tried to dodge “Japan talk,” only to pick a topic that could still blow up in my face… Yeah. That was exactly the kind of shallow thinking I kept falling into.

Be careful, I told myself. At least try.

“In terms of relaxing,” Joshua said, “this is actually more comfortable for me. So, I did make use of you as an excuse to dress like this. Please forgive me.”

“No, no, of course. If it helps at all, feel free to use me as you like. Um, I mean, Prince Joshua has that dignified charm, too, but Joshua-sama when you’re relaxed is… also very beautiful.”

I’d been told Limia had plenty of situations where flattery was expected, so I figured I’d put it into practice as soon as possible.

The noble meeting had been nothing but questions fired at me, so I hadn’t had much chance to use it. But with Joshua dressed like this, she probably wouldn’t nitpick, and she felt like a safe person to test it on.

Joshua stared at me for a moment.

“Those sorts of compliments are better saved for a party,” she finally said, “or for nobles who enjoy boasting about their partners. Though first, you’ll need to learn to say them more naturally.”

Her gaze sharpened.

“And saying ‘um’ out loud is completely unacceptable.”

Oh no. I had said it out loud, hadn’t I?

“Sorry,” I said, rubbing the back of my head. “I’m not used to it. Since you’re someone I know, I kind of tested it without thinking.”

“I am still the prince of this country,” Joshua reminded me, her expression complicated.

There was a brief pause.

“Well, with you dressed like this,” I ventured, “I thought maybe rank didn’t matter as much right now.”

If this meeting wasn’t ‘Prince Joshua receiving a guest’ but something else, then it probably wasn’t official business.

“It’s not perfect,” Joshua said, “but you do seem to have some ability to read intentions. I would have liked you to also consider the other person’s feelings.”

“T-that’s a harsh review.”

I mean, the way she’d said it was gentle, but it still felt like she’d graded me on something fundamental and found me lacking.

“Because you still don’t fully understand what this attire means,” Joshua said. “Hibiki is good at reading these things, so I suppose I expected the same from you.”

Wait, what does the dress mean?

In my head, it still seemed simple.

This room was secure. I already knew her circumstances. So, she’d relaxed a little and dropped the disguise.

Right?

She’d basically said as much.

Prince Joshua watched me for a moment, waiting for my answer; when I didn’t give one, she let out a small, troubled breath and met my eyes directly.

“Raidou-dono,” she said quietly, “you learned my most sensitive secret.”

“Y-yes.”

“And I came back to my country after making you promise not to speak of it.”

“Yes.”

A pause.

Another pause.

Why did it feel like we’d fallen into a pit of silence again?

It was true: I knew Prince Joshua was actually a woman. She’d warned me to keep it secret, and then we’d parted ways.

Now we’d reunited in Limia.

So, what about it?

“Hibiki told me you weren’t the type to scheme,” Joshua murmured, almost to herself. “I see now. This is what she meant. And I can understand why she corrected herself. Why she said it wasn’t the Kuzunoha Company as a whole, but you personally.”

“Uh…”

“At that time,” she went on, “I couldn’t offer you a clear reward. Nor could I give you anything as a token, an advance, or even a guarantee. All I could do was ask you to keep silent. So, tell me, Raidou-dono. What do you think I felt toward you in that moment?”

“That you wanted to settle it quickly once you could offer a reward?” I guessed.

“No.”

“That the capital was in such chaos that you didn’t have the bandwidth to think about it?”

“No. And that has nothing to do with what I felt toward you.”

Right.

What did she mean?

Even if she’d been concerned, she hadn’t kept trying to contact me afterward. There hadn’t been that kind of pressure.

I’d assumed it was simply because reconstruction had kept her too busy to spare attention for anything else. And even when I’d met Hibiki-senpai later, nothing like this had come up. So, what would someone think in her position?

If a secret that could ruin you got exposed to someone far away, and all you’d done was ask them not to speak.

If it were me, I’d be anxious.

Depending on the situation, I’d want to remove that anxiety as soon as possible.

Still, Limia hadn’t sent a single assassin after me. So, Joshua hadn’t considered violent solutions. Then maybe she’d tried to confirm whether I’d talked. To read my intentions. Yet I’d never heard any report that someone had been sniffing around.

“Because you were uneasy, you wanted to know the other person’s movements and their true intentions,” I said carefully.

If that wasn’t it, then I was out of ideas.

Joshua’s expression softened, and she gave a small nod.

“Correct. And as far as I’ve been able to determine, you haven’t spoken of my secret. Not even disguised as an anecdote or a hypothetical.”

OK, so she did investigate.

My people hadn’t mentioned anything to me, which only made it more unsettling.

“How?” was the question that wanted to slip out, but I swallowed it.

“No,” I said instead. “I haven’t told anyone.”

I’d been ordered not to, and even beyond that, I had no use for the secret of Limia’s second prince.

Joshua looked at me steadily.

“Which is why,” she said, “as a sign that I will trust you going forward, I chose to show you myself like this.”

“So, you did suspect me quite a bit?” I asked before I could stop myself.

The thought stung more than it should have.

Even if she was royalty, even if she’d grown up sheltered, being distrusted like that still hit hard.

Joshua didn’t flinch.

“Then let me ask you instead,” she said quietly. “Why should I have trusted you? You were a merchant of unknown background, someone I met one day at Rotsgard.”

Well, when you put it that way, you’re not wrong.

Even if I had no intention of using her secret against her, suspicion was the natural response.

“At that time,” Joshua said quietly, “I imagined even my own ruin. I went so far as to consider ways to erase myself without drawing suspicion, so that at the very least I wouldn’t bring trouble upon His Majesty.”

My throat went tight.

Erase herself?

As in suicide?

That’s—no. That’s terrifying.

“That’s why I’m telling you,” I said, the words coming out sharper than I’d intended. “I really didn’t say anything.”

I hadn’t even told anyone in the Demiplane; honestly, it was closer to something I’d filed away and forgotten.

“And yet,” Joshua continued, unshaken by my tone, “this is the secret of Limia’s second prince. Used properly, it could elevate a merchant a level or two. Using it would be the natural, rational choice. Especially for someone who claims to be a merchant.”

“Ah.”

So, that was it.

She’d been watching for leverage.

Now that she said it, I remembered those repeated telepathic questions before we ever came to Limia: about whether I planned to do business here, whether I wanted the kingdom’s help, and whether I’d be asking for special treatment.

Every time, I’d answered the same way: No plans. Focus on reconstruction. Don’t worry about me.

“You didn’t just refrain from exploiting the secret,” Joshua said. “Even in your talks with the nobles today, you stated plainly that you have no plans to conduct trade in Limia at present. Frankly, it was hard to believe.”

“Well, there’s also the matter of manpower,” I said. “And Kuzunoha has its own circumstances. We can’t just build a new storefront wherever we feel like it.”

Technically, we did have a small presence in Limia through peddling routes. I’d been planning to disclose that ourselves during this stay, albeit not as a shop or an official expansion.

Actually.

If nobles started making a fuss later, it might be smarter to tell Joshua now and have her help smooth things over.

“I see,” Joshua said, her expression easing at last. “To be honest, I was ready to suspect you of motives far removed from those of a merchant; something closer to a soldier, or a noble. But if I consider Hibiki’s account alongside your own, it seems that was simply my imagination.”

“Still, there is something related to trade. Something I was planning on mentioning. Since the opportunity’s here, I’d like to tell you first, Joshua-sama.”

“That sounded very much like something you thought of just now. Go on.”

I hadn’t just thought of it; I’d simply never planned to bring it up here, in this room.

“The Kuzunoha Company has a small external-sales group,” I explained. “More like a peddling unit. The truth is they’ve already done business in some Limian villages.”

Joshua’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Hm. I’ve received no report, but I see.”

“It’s extremely minor trade,” I hurried to add. “And it shouldn’t be in territory directly controlled by the royal family. But I’ve been told there are border-adjacent noble domains where our people have traded with the same village more than once.”

“And?”

“I’m hoping the royal family and the nobles can accept it after the fact. If necessary, I’d like your help smoothing it over.”

“So, you want me to persuade them.”

“Yes. And if needed, we can provide sales reports going forward and pay taxes accordingly. Please.”

The transactions weren’t large, so even taxes, whatever form they might take, shouldn’t become a huge issue. In theory.

Still, I’d need to look into Limia’s system properly if it came to that.

Joshua fell silent for a moment, thinking.

Then she looked back at me.

“If it’s truly to that extent, it won’t be a problem. Depending on the amounts, there may be details to address, but I’ll make sure the tax side is handled properly. I promise.”

“Thank you. That helps a lot.”

“And in today’s meeting,” she continued, “you must have heard many voices hoping that Kuzunoha would open a shop here. Some said nothing, of course, but overall, there were very few who sounded outright opposed.”

“Ah, right. Now that you mention it…”

“They may wish for you to expand, and there’s unlikely to be a coordinated push to exclude you. Still, just in case, could you tell me the approximate locations of the villages you have in mind? The ones you’re already aware of.”

As she spoke, Joshua got up and took a map of Limia from a shelf, spreading it out for me to see.

It was a rough map.

You could tell the general outline of the borders, but the inside was almost blank, more like a template waiting to be filled. Were all the maps here really this barebones?

Only a handful of major cities were marked, and even the roads were sparse.

It was nothing like what we used.

One by one, I began pointing out the villages for Joshua. It was imprecise work, since I was mentally overlaying the little circles drawn on the peddlers’ own maps, but I hoped it was close enough.

There were around twenty locations; mostly along the border, with a few tucked into forests and valleys. Of course, on Joshua’s map, most of those areas were basically white space.

If I included places we’d only visited once or only passed through, the number would’ve been much higher, so I limited it to the villages where we’d traded repeatedly. The ones where the name Kuzunoha had actually taken root.

In some villages, apparently, the Forest Ogre merchants and others who handled our peddling were being called Kuzu-san.

A nickname that was honestly kind of tragic.

When I imagined it—kids with bright innocent faces, elderly people enjoying retirement, all of them cheerfully calling someone Kuzu-san—it felt like psychological damage in nickname form.

Because if they were calling our people Kuzu-san, then I was basically the boss of Kuzu-san.

The representative of garbage.

Yeah. No thanks.

Maybe that was part of why I’d started hearing rumors here and there that village chiefs wanted to formally greet me. I still hadn’t visited any of them.

Joshua marked each spot on her map as I indicated them.

“That’s quite a number,” she said when we were done. “But it’s strangely concentrated in the west.”

The result was exactly as she described: dots scattered from north to south along Limia’s western border.

“I’ve heard there are more poor villages along the western frontier,” I explained. “So, our people tend to bring goods there often.”

Near the southern border, most of the area was the Hopleys’ territory, and from what I’d been told, there weren’t many villages suffering from that kind of poverty there.

Hopleys’ territory did things differently. They didn’t settle many people right up against the harsher borderlands. Instead, they placed troops where distribution lines were easier to maintain, then built villages in a planned, controlled way.

“Why?” Joshua asked, puzzled. “In poor villages, you won’t earn much money.”

Why are you saying that like it’s obvious? was what almost came out of my mouth.

“But people in poor villages need supplies more, don’t they?” I said instead. “We don’t deal exclusively in luxury goods. It’s mostly daily necessities or basic medicine. We bring things to places that struggle to get them.”

I didn’t think that sounded strange, but Joshua went quiet. Her expression was the kind you make when you meet a rare creature in the wild: half confusion, half astonishment.

I’m not a rare animal, I wanted to protest, a little sadly.

“What?” I asked. “Did I say something weird?”

“No.” Joshua recovered herself. “If you’ve been centering your route around villages like these, it makes sense that reports to the lords have been slow to reach us.”

She tapped the map lightly.

“This isn’t finalized yet,” she continued, “but I’ll consider measures to make it easier for Kuzunoha personnel to move within Limia. There are things that are only possible precisely because you’re operating on a small scale.”

“Easier to move. You mean, like travel permits?”

Like we’d been given in the demon lands.

“Permits.” Joshua nodded thoughtfully. “Road passage authorizations, peddling permissions within the kingdom, something along those lines. I can’t promise the exact form yet. But as thanks for keeping my secret… I will help you with this.”

“Thank you.”

“Now then,” Joshua said, meeting my eyes again, “may I ask about your plans beyond what we already know?”

“Oh. A friend asked me to handle something. I was thinking of going out for a few hours tomorrow.”

From the schedule they’d given me, tomorrow and the day after had large open blocks. Especially tomorrow, which could almost become a full free day if I adjusted things.

“Where to?”

“A lake.”

“Oh, Star Lake?” Joshua’s tone brightened slightly. “It’s close to the capital, and lots of tourists visit it.”

Ah, not that one.

I’d created Star Lake myself, and thanks to that questionable achievement, I’d heard people were calling me Wicked One in the streets.

It was a beautiful place. Besides being a modest tourist attraction, it was providing the city with real benefits. But if you asked whether I actually wanted to go there, I could only shake my head.

Who in their right mind would willingly stroll into a place that got you labeled Wicked One?

“No,” I said. “Maylis Lake. I’ve heard it’s a famous site in Limia.”

It wasn’t that far, and apparently, it wasn’t locked down like the Empire’s desert. That alone was a blessing.

“Maylis.” Joshua’s brows knit. “It is famous, yes, but are you sure your acquaintance didn’t misunderstand?”

“No, I’m sure,” I insisted. “He specifically called it Maylis. He said it isn’t forbidden to those who wish to enter. Is that wrong?”

“No, it’s not wrong. The lake is well known, and while we do confirm intent beforehand, we do not prohibit entry.”

“Thank goodness.” I exhaled, showing perhaps a little too much relief.

I’d been secretly nervous that Luto was up to something again.

That guy had handed me yet another egg with that airy smile of his, casually claiming his joints still hurt. Like nothing in the world could possibly bother him.

With Luto, you never knew what was coming.

Joshua’s tone suddenly became more serious.

“Well, it is a dangerous place. That lake remains untouched under an agreement between the Kingdom and a greater dragon. If someone goes there to test their strength or train, that is one matter. But for an invited guest of ours, we would prefer you refrain.”

“Ah. So, that’s what it is.”

Come to think of it, even the desert in Gritonia had been described as dangerous, although I’d made a day trip of it so easily that I started treating it like a scenic stop.

So, Maylis Lake was seen the same way here. And yet Luto had said, “It’s open to the public, the lakeshore is beautiful; take a walk on your way back.”

Yeah. Sure.

If the Kingdom pushed back, I’d have to consider slipping out quietly again, one way or another.

“I’ll speak to His Majesty,” Joshua said, “but please don’t expect too much. If it cannot be arranged, there are places I would like to show you tomorrow as well. You won’t be bored.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

That sounded very much like probably not.

Would it help if I said I’d bring Mio?

Or even Lime?

Hibiki should know how capable Lime was, so maybe I could ask her to put in a word.

After that, we talked a little longer about casual, harmless matters like how business was going.

Nothing blew up.

When I finally left Joshua’s room, at least I’d managed to tell her about the Forest Ogre peddlers.

More importantly, I’d gotten a forward-looking answer in return.

For me, it was a meeting with real value.

※※※

A troublesome man…

This was Joshua’s first time truly speaking with Raidou at length, and she had to be honest about her impressions. The person in front of her had been nothing like the image she’d built up in her mind.

It was only a verbal promise. And yet he treated it as if we’d signed a formal contract.It’s reassuring, yes, but if I turn it around, it means any simple promise I make to him could carry the same binding weight as a written agreement. In his eyes, my words can become shackles.

If she carelessly nodded along, a vague assurance could become an unexpected constraint.

With Raidou, she would need an entirely different standard of negotiation.

A quiet sigh slipped from Joshua’s lips.

And his view of commerce, even compared to Hibiki’s, is absurdly abnormal. The way he spoke, his tone, his expression, he didn’t look like someone chasing profit. He looked like someone doing charity work.

Even thinking that made her feel ridiculous. And yet, Raidou hadn’t tried to blackmail her with her secret.

He hadn’t asked for convenience or preferential treatment in trade.

All he’d done was request retroactive approval for a small peddling operation that had already happened. And even that felt so unforced, Joshua had almost suspected he’d improvised it on the spot.

No. This won’t do. There’s far too little information.

The safe course was to mark him as unassessable for now.

He was from the same homeland as Hibiki. He’d studied at the same academy. Someone like that couldn’t possibly be ordinary. And his desire to visit Maylis Lake instead of Star Lake only deepened the mystery.

If possible, I’d like to assign someone to shadow him and observe. But would that even be wise?

Raidou wasn’t someone Limia could afford to simply ignore.

On that, Hibiki, the king of Limia, and Prince Joshua were all in agreement.

Even if the gap between expectation and reality had unsettled her, it hadn’t changed her underlying conclusion.

His personal power was superhuman.

His company’s influence was abnormal.

And the students he’d trained demonstrated abilities that overturned common sense.

By any measure, he was an asset too valuable to let slip into another country’s hands.

Especially Gritonia’s.

If he went there, the balance between nations could tilt. And once it tilted, it wouldn’t easily return.

So, yes.

To Joshua, Raidou was a troublesome man from every possible angle.

Limia had forced itself to invite him, despite still being halfway through reconstruction, for a reason. The kingdom had intentions.

The royal family: Joshua and the king.

The Hero: Hibiki.

A handful of sharp-eyed nobles.

And though they were quiet for now, the merchants might move as well.

Tomorrow was meant to carefully and strategically expose those intentions while also showing Raidou the capital as it existed now.

From Limia’s side, it was a free day with purpose.

If Raidou had a different wish…

Even if granting it was unlikely, Joshua couldn’t simply dismiss it. And that was yet another reason the princess found herself wanting to groan.

※※※

Despite being forced to drink a frankly unreasonable amount at the welcome banquet held after my meeting with Prince Joshua last night, I woke up feeling surprisingly good.

I’d spoken with Hibiki a little, been approached by a few nobles with the same, “We don’t care about scale; why not try doing some kind of business in our domain?” pitch, and then His Majesty had opened up about his worries over the city’s reconstruction.

There was a hopeful outlook: once the relief unit from Rotsgard arrived, the pace of recovery would pick up.

Unfortunately, winter was winter, and the season’s cruel conditions were already threatening secondary damage. The King had said it with a heavy, sinking tone.

In the end, this was what it meant to be outplayed by the demons.

Honestly, it showed.

If you stepped one street back from the main roads, the capital still looked like a ruin. And even outside the rebuilt outer wall, there were still countless camps.

To me, it felt like the capital’s reconstruction had only just begun.

I wasn’t tactless enough to say that out loud to people who were finally letting themselves feel hope, but the thought still stayed with me.

“Then I will be escorting Raidou-dono,” Hibiki-senpai announced, addressing the Limian attendants as well as Mio and Lime. “I swear to you, even at the cost of my life, that he will travel safely. Please be at ease.”

I stood there with the cloth sack holding Lyca’s egg slung over my shoulder and only the bare minimum of luggage in hand.

Meanwhile, Senpai stood in front of me looking like she was heading off to war: sword at her side, layered in equipment that carried the unmistakable presence of enchantments.

My request to visit Maylis Lake had been approved, but in a quite unexpected way.

Permission granted, on the condition that Hero Hibiki accompanies you.

Apparently, it had been decided through quiet internal consultation, because many people were wearing openly puzzled expressions about the two of us going together.

This was strange for me, too. Even back in Japan, I’d never ended up alone with Senpai in the first place.

Now, after coming here, this would make the second time (the first being that meeting at the company) where it was just the two of us.

I’d been bracing myself for Mio to react, but she’d agreed so easily it was almost frightening.

She’s absolutely plotting something.

Her smile had even looked Luto-like for a split second. And that was never a good sign.

If anything, the ones who were protesting were from the Hero’s party.

If I remembered right, that warrior-type guy was also a prince. But in the end, one word from the king shut it down, and he’d been forced to accept it.

Honestly, if it meant avoiding resentment, I wouldn’t have minded him coming, too. I could’ve shaken him off halfway anyway.

Still.

What worried me more was that the shrine maiden who’d collapsed wasn’t here.

Had she still not woken up? Or had something like an aftereffect appeared?

Mio kept insisting she’d done nothing, and the way she said it didn’t feel like a lie. But if she truly hadn’t done anything, I didn’t see how Chiya could’ve reacted like that just from looking at Mio and me.

I mean, sure, over here I was an ugly guy, but even the very first random person I’d run into out in the Wasteland (while I was leaking magic like a busted pipe) had only screamed and sprinted away like a rocket.

Only?

That counts as ‘only,’ doesn’t it?

No. Don’t think about it.

Still, even if the concealment hadn’t worked and the shrine maiden had seen my mana body, would someone from the Hero’s party—someone who’d probably seen all kinds of horrors—really panic so badly she collapsed?

Just remembering it made my chest go all tight.

At first, she’d stared at me with this blank expression. It was absolutely nothing like the reaction of anyone else who’d seen me in this world.

I’d thought, Huh. That’s unusual, and looked back.

Then it was like something clicked inside her, and her eyes went wide.

Her whole body started shaking.

Then a scream.

A collapse.

Thud.

Yeah, that one stung.

Even if Mio was right, and the shrine maiden had tried to do something first, I still wanted to know what happened.

I wanted the why.

“Have a safe trip, Young Master,” Mio said, perfectly composed on the surface. “With the Hero at your side, you’ll be in good hands.”

Outwardly, at least, she was her usual self.

Lime, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to say about ten different things and was swallowing all of them.

“Take care,” he said, forcing the words out. “A-and we’ll handle things here. So, p-please don’t worry about us.”

Handle things. As if he could actually hold Mio back if she decided to do something.

We both knew better.

Still, after this, Joshua and several attendants were supposed to guide Mio and Lime around the lower city. If I made sure they understood not to cause trouble, it should be fine.

“I’m heading out,” I said. “Don’t cause problems for Joshua-sama or the people of Limia. If something happens, I’m leaving it to your judgment. But whatever you do, don’t interfere with the reconstruction work.”

“We won’t,” Mio said smoothly.

“Even at the cost of my life,” Lime added.

I almost laughed.

“Lime. Copying Hibiki-senpai right now isn’t funny.” But his face was too serious for it to be a joke.

If I finished today’s delivery, then after that, I could pretty much go with the flow of whatever schedule they pushed on me and not worry too much.

I’d already gotten some bonus time to talk with Senpai.

Honestly, this trip to Limia was going very smoothly compared to my other state visits. A little too smoothly.

No one had demanded, “Send us people,” or “Prove your strength,” or anything like that. At least not yet.

Maybe I’d misjudged Limia, assuming it would be like Gritonia just because it was another major nation, and because I’d already decided nobles here would be overbearing.

“Well then,” Hibiki said, “shall we go, Raidou-dono?”

“Thank you for today, Hibiki-sama.”

Calling her Senpai in public felt like asking for trouble.

She didn’t seem bothered by the shift at all; she simply smiled and nodded, then swung up onto her horse.

I glanced back once at Mio, who waved cheerfully. Then I mounted my own horse, turned, and followed after Hibiki, setting off toward Maylis Lake.

If I explained the situation, I was sure Senpai would let me go on alone once we were partway there; by the time we arrived, I would feel even more secure.

When I thought about it, I really had been visiting nothing but difficult countries until now.

Places where they demanded proof, manpower, and results.

So, fine.

This was one of the few errands I actually had in Limia. Let’s deliver the egg, then get back as quickly as possible.

Chapter 5

Maylis Lake was a peculiar body of water. Officially, it was administered, along with the surrounding region, by the Kingdom of Limia.

There were a handful of public-facing reasons for this, of course. But in practice, it was much the same as the Gritonia Empire: a place the royal family protected through a pact with a dragon.

Unlike in the Empire, however, Limia’s contract was so old that it had begun to fade from public memory. Only the royal house and a limited circle of high-ranking nobles—those entrusted with the kingdom’s most critical matters—still knew the details.

To the average person, Maylis Lake wasn’t “territory claimed by a greater dragon” so much as it was “the most dangerous training ground in all of Limia.”

Even entry wasn’t especially strict. There were gates at the four cardinal directions, and all they really did was confirm you were entering of your own free will.

Hunters from nearby villages slipped in from other points anyway, and both the lake and the forest around it were widely thought to bring great blessings to everyday life.

When Makoto Misumi and Hibiki Otonashi arrived at the East Gate, the closest of the four to the lake, they dismounted and continued on foot.

The gatekeeper waiting there had apparently been informed at the last minute that the Hero would be visiting. He looked like he’d been wound so tight he might snap. Once he managed to rattle off his explanation of Maylis Lake without tripping over his own words, he promptly went limp, sinking to his knees as if all the strength had left him at once.

He must have crammed the basics in a frantic panic during the short time before they arrived.

Now the two of them walked side by side along a path worn flat by countless footsteps, earth packed tight beneath their boots.

“In Japan, being able to ride a horse is the kind of thing you’d put down as a special skill,” Hibiki said. “But here, you just end up learning it naturally.”

“Yeah,” Makoto agreed. “That’s pretty much how it feels for me, too.”

“How many times have you really let a horse go full speed?”

“Hm, only a few. Two or three times, and only over short distances. You looked really comfortable up there, Senpai. Do you ride often? Or did you have experience back in Japan?”

“Yeah. I had some experience. Nothing fancy, just normal riding. But honestly, even that kind of worked against me here. It was the differences. Even if it’s still riding a horse, the techniques you’re expected to use can be surprisingly different.”

The entire Maylis Lake region, including the forests, grasslands, and scattered hills surrounding it, was preserved in a pristine, untouched state. Makoto wasn’t sure if they had national parks here, but this felt like one, vast and sealed away from civilization.

The roads leading toward the lake were maintained to a degree, but beyond that, everything came down to personal responsibility. Whether you hunted monsters for training or ended up becoming their next meal, the consequences were entirely your own.

Despite not being all that far from the royal capital, the forest was dense enough to qualify as a primeval woodland. Hibiki and Makoto encountered monsters more than once, but each time, Hibiki dispatched them in a single clean stroke. Makoto simply followed a few steps behind her, with nothing left to do.

The two kept up a stream of casual conversation as they walked, their lighthearted tone sounding out of place amid the forest's oppressive atmosphere.

“By the way, Makoto-kun,” Hibiki said, glancing back at him. “I didn’t even know people lived out here. What exactly is it you’re delivering?”

“I’m sorry,” Makoto replied with an apologetic smile. “I’ve been asked to keep it confidential. If the recipient doesn’t mind, I’ll show you when we get there.”

“That’s a shame. Just curiosity. But I would appreciate it if you could ask for me.”

Hibiki was more curious about Makoto’s delivery than she let on. But she knew that forcing the issue would only sour the mood, and there was nothing to gain from that.

“Sure,” Makoto said. Then, after a brief pause, he smiled wryly. “Still, you’ve really gotten strong, Senpai. I don’t think there’s any situation where I’d get a turn. Back in Japan, you were already a nationally recognized swordswoman, right?”

Makoto remembered how once, after an archery club match of his own, he’d gone to watch one of Hibiki’s kendo matches being held nearby. Even then, he’d felt that her swordsmanship wasn’t just modern kendo; it seemed to carry traces of much older techniques.

He’d never brought it up.

“Well, I am supposed to be your bodyguard,” Hibiki said with a faint shrug. “If it were a place I couldn’t handle alone, I would’ve brought companions. But since I can manage just fine, it’s just the two of us here. That’s all. Whether you even need a guard at all, considering you have Tomoe-san and Mio-san with you, is another matter entirely.”

What Hibiki didn’t say was her true objective: to establish a connection with Makoto, and to keep an eye on him.

“No, really, I’m grateful you’re here in Limia, Senpai,” Makoto said quietly. “If it were Mio or Lime, I don’t think the Limians would trust us at all. Having power alone just isn’t enough. You don’t earn trust that way.”

His voice carried a note of genuine reflection.

If power alone were sufficient, Makoto would already be far more trusted than he was now.

Even at present, much of the reason Makoto was viewed with suspicion lay in his conduct. Still, in those circumstances, he had come to experience something many people grasp only after years of maturity: the limits of power by itself.

That said, the path that led him there was highly unusual. Simply realizing it didn’t mean he had accumulated the life experience that should have accompanied such an understanding.

At the very least, Makoto still didn’t fully grasp the true value of his own strength, or how it ought to be wielded.

“Power is the foundation of everything,” Hibiki said after a moment. “If you have enough of it, trust will follow, one way or another.”

“Is that really how it works?”

By now, Hibiki had begun compensating for what used to be her weakness in long-range combat, weaving magic seamlessly into her swordplay.

At that exact moment, a spear of flame burst from her hand, piercing a magical beast that had leapt from the treetops and reducing it to charred remains midair. She’d struck the instant its jump sent the branches swaying.

The fact that she could unleash magic of that power with only a brief chant spoke volumes about the sheer magnitude of a Hero’s strength.

Had she been able to do that back at Rotsgard Academy, it would have given her an overwhelming advantage.

Nothing about her technique was flashy or abnormal. It was the result of talent and steady effort, polished to a fine edge. The clean way she denied her opponent even a chance to act was proof enough. Anyone who knew what they were looking at would recognize her overall ability as exceptionally high.

Hibiki spoke slowly as if nothing had happened, spacing out each word.

“Between individuals. Within organizations. Even across entire societies,” she said. “In the end, it’s all a competition over who can gather more power. I guess you could call it ‘the foundation and everything built on it.’”

She cast a sideways glance at Makoto.

Despite the blazing spear of fire unleashed before his eyes, despite everything she’d done with her sword until now, his reaction wasn’t shock.

It was admiration.

So, my strength is already within his expectations. I’ve shown Lime my full power before; I suppose that can’t be helped.

And this was the eastern gate, the most dangerous way into the forest.

“Do you mean physical strength? Combat ability, too?” Makoto asked. “I get that in this world, individuals can sometimes overpower entire armies, but…”

That kind of logic wouldn’t hold up back in Japan, would it?

Hibiki met his eyes, and in that brief exchange, several of her earlier assumptions about him quietly dissolved while others grew firmer in their place. Letting nothing show in her expression, she continued calmly.

“It’s the same here and in Japan. When I say power, I mean everything: physical strength, intelligence, all of it combined. The total sum of what you possess, and what you’ve gathered, determines how much influence you have over society.”

“…”

“And hyumans are creatures that perform best when they act in groups. Friends. Allies. Supporters. The more people like that you have, the more their power adds to your own. Whether you’re alone or surrounded by others, power is still power.”

“I, um, feel like you and I aren’t actually talking about the same thing.”

“No, we are. Exactly the same thing. We’re just looking at it differently. I believe any kind of power can be quantified. You don’t. That’s the only difference.”

“Quantified, huh. I’ve honestly never thought about it that way. And when you talk about things like physical strength and intelligence, even if you turn them into numbers, it feels kind of meaningless.”

Though Makoto’s words were critical, his expression held no hostility, only uncertainty. Hibiki picked up on that at once and nodded serenely.

She was deliberately walking him through her way of thinking.

This entire discussion had started because she’d seized on his earlier remark: that power alone couldn’t earn trust. Makoto himself didn’t seem to realize it yet, but she continued anyway.

There were things she wanted to accomplish during this time alone with him.

“Those numbers can double or be cut in half depending on the situation, but they still have meaning,” Hibiki said. “After all, even between people who are often lumped together for comparison, like Tomoki-kun and me, differences already exist.

“Strengths and weaknesses can’t really be helped. That’s exactly why it’s important to gather not just more power, but different kinds of power as well—to be able to respond to a wider range of situations.”

“So… you and Tomoki.”

“Yes. According to your analysis of him—ah.”

She cut off mid-sentence, slicing aside a hurled projectile that whistled toward her like an arrowhead. In the same motion, Hibiki closed the distance and, with a fluid backhand swing, finished off several monsters in quick succession.

“What do you think would happen?” she continued smoothly, glancing back over her shoulder at Makoto.

“Tomoki’s an attacker-type,” Makoto said. “He relies on equipment buffs and overwhelming first-strike firepower to take enemies down before they can react. I’ll wager combat is what he’s best at. He has Charm, too, but that doesn’t really work on people who can resist it.”

“Even so,” Hibiki replied, “in its own way, Charm is his strongest weapon. Thanks to that ability, there’s almost no one in the Empire who can get in his way. When you can turn enemies into supporters with ease, and you have a source of simple but devastating firepower to trample your opposition, there’s a great deal you can accomplish.”

“Right. So, that means it should be counted as part of his overall power. It’s a convenient ability—lets him crush problems before they even become problems.”

“Exactly. I’d like to hear more about your thoughts on him sometime. But for now, I’m more interested in how you see me. Tell me, what’s your assessment?”

“Senpai is…” Makoto paused, then blinked. “Ah. I see. So, that’s why I was thinking the way I was. You really are something else.”

As he started nodding to himself in sudden understanding, Hibiki gave him a puzzled look.

“Makoto-kun?”

“Ah, sorry. You have some strengths and weaknesses, but overall, you’re incredibly well-rounded. Your magic is versatile, and you handle both physical combat and spellcasting without any gaps. If there is a weakness, maybe it’s long-range attacks or raw firepower. But with your reaction speed and movement, that’s barely an issue.”

“…”

“Compared to Tomoki, your firepower might be lower,” Makoto continued. “But in pretty much every other area, I think you’re superior. And honestly, I don’t think combat is even the field you’re best at.”

“Oh?”

“I thought this back home, too, but you’re really good at building relationships with people who can do things you can’t. I think that’s amazing. There should be rivalry, insecurity, plenty of things that get in the way. But you’re good at getting along with people. And for someone our age, you’re incredibly comfortable with debate and public speaking. It never felt like we were peers.”

“I can’t do everything on my own,” Hibiki replied. “Thinking about having someone cover what I lack seems natural, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not,” Makoto said without hesitation. “Not for someone who can already do as much as you can. And after hearing what you said earlier, it hit me. I think that might be your greatest strength.”

“That sounds like a compliment and not a compliment at the same time.”

“It is a compliment. You can look at anyone without prejudice and see that ability as a genuine strength. And you understand that even ordinary people, without any standout talent, can help accomplish something big if they come together. That perspective, that way of thinking, is your greatest power.”

Makoto knew that there were as many motives as there were people in the world.

Even so, people gathered around Hibiki. They cooperated with her, and while doing so, each of them pursued their own goals. It wasn’t subjugation; it was cooperation, plain and simple.

She was competent at nearly everything and kind to people.

That was why Makoto had always thought of her as a flawless overachiever. A genius. Hearing her philosophy about power had altered that image slightly, but it hadn’t made him think any less of her.

If he’d stayed by her side longer and observed her more closely, he might have seen the less pristine, more calculating aspects of her as well. But the connection between Makoto and Hibiki had never been that deep.

Using people’s strengths.

That, Makoto felt from the bottom of his heart, was Hibiki’s true talent.

“Thank you. That makes me happy,” Hibiki said, her smile gentle.

Even as she spoke, her thoughts raced. All she was thinking of was Makoto.

Keeping every nerve taut, being careful not to miss even the smallest signal in his words, gestures, or tone, Hibiki was gathering information. At the same time, she was searching her memories for the version of herself he likely remembered, doing her best to play that roleconvincingly.

He’s not an idiot after all. Limited, maybe, but he does have a personal framework for evaluating people. I’ve heard about some of his clumsy moves, but could it be that he hasn’t yet acquired the perspective or conduct appropriate for the stage he’s standing on now? His company’s rapid rise and growing attention point to high latent potential, but what if its capabilities and his capabilities aren’t proportional? From what I remember of him in Japan, he was the classic one-trick type. Average grades, average athletic ability, and only his club activity stood out dramatically. I think. My memory’s fuzzy, but that sounds right.

Oblivious to Hibiki’s inner analysis, Makoto flushed slightly at her straightforward thanks.

This never would’ve happened back in Japan, he thought.

“No, it’s really nothing,” he said, waving off Hibiki’s grateful words. “Lime mentioned you had a bit of trouble in Lorel, but that’s probably just because you didn’t have the right people around you at the time. I’m sure you’ve already got countermeasures in mind.”

“Long-range firepower, yes,” Hibiki replied with a small sigh. “Unfortunately, that’s still lacking. Rebuilding the capital’s the top priority right now. My companions and I are testing a few approaches, but I wouldn’t call any of them satisfactory yet.”

And yet, the Makoto-kun who used to be a one-trick specialist is clearly spreading his hands into many different fields in this world. The Kuzunoha Company’s business classification is practically “jack-of-all-trades.” Medicines whose effectiveness and cost-performance leave competitors far behind. A stable supply of materials and food that should be nearly impossible to obtain in the wilderness. A distribution network so fast it’s even better than modern Japan. Dwarven weapons, as hard as they are for hyumans to get their hands on, handled like regular merchandise. Tomoe-san, Mio-san, Lime, they’re all so monstrously strong that even mercenary bands would flee barefoot. None of this can be explained by mere dedication to archery. And even his behavior so far is way too clumsy for a cutting-edge merchant. Which means whatever evolved from that bow specialty must be something else entirely.

“Well,” Makoto said, breaking the silence, “when it comes to long-range attacks in this world, magic really is the star of the show. If you just need one decisive blow, ritual magic’s the strongest. But the prep is a nightmare, and it’s easy to counter once people expect it…”

“And it needs to be power you can respond with immediately,” Hibiki finished. “Ritual magic has acceptable firepower, but that’s exactly where it falls short. Effective range, power, accuracy?” She exhaled softly. “Honestly, between that and the reconstruction efforts, I can’t help but resent my own lack of strength. Rotsgard was destroyed around the same time as this city, and yet it’s already gotten so much of its old vitality back. With me there, I keep wondering if I could have done more. Especially when I do have modern knowledge to draw from.”

More than anything, it’s the strength of his “Japanese scent” that bothers me. It’s been two years since we came to this world. Someone like Tomoki, who’s built such a stereotypical harem, has obviously changed drastically from who he was in Japan. Even I’m consciously dredging up my old self right now, trying to act like the person I used to be. And yet Makoto’s so natural about it. At least on the surface, he still feels unmistakably Japanese. How is that possible? If it were escapism, he wouldn’t be so deeply involved with this world. Then what kind of life has he been living to end up like this?

“There are a few people in my company who specialize in long-range attacks,” Makoto said apologetically. “But they’re all invaluable employees. I can’t exactly loan them out. I’m sorry.”

Hibiki paused, then narrowed her eyes. “You mean including the one who unleashed that terrifying attack on the purple cloud that struck Lorel? That shot came from a ridiculous distance, maintained bomb-level destructive power, and had accuracy like a cutting-edge weapon.”

I tried organizing what Tomoki and I had in common once, to see if there were shared traits among Heroes. I wonder how many of those apply to him as well. Appearance probably isn’t a summoning condition. Some baseline of talent or aptitude must be required, but if so, does Makoto-kun share more with us—with me and Tomoki? I should start examining the less common overlaps I have with Tomoki. The biggest would be attachment to our original world. But somehow, that doesn’t seem like it fits in Makoto’s case.

“Ah, that one?” Makoto asked, scratching his cheek. “Was it really that strange?”

“Not strange. Incredible,” Hibiki answered quickly. “It honestly made my spine go cold. I thought, So, if you pick a fight with the Kuzunoha Company, your city could be erased in a single strike.”

The Goddess said we could never go back. Tomoki and I accepted that and chose to come here, so our attachment isn’t especially strong. Sometimes I miss Japanese food, or the quiet stability of everyday life, but it’s a different kind of value than before. What this world has given me is far greater. The same goes for Tomoki. Or rather, if that man, with his do-whatever-you-want harem, ever said he wanted to go back to Japan, I’d hunt him down before the Demon King ever could. There are even unconfirmed rumors of imperial nobles bearing his children, and, in truth, countless girls are already pregnant. Well, setting that aside…

“Ah—aha…”

“That attack, was it someone I know?” Hibiki asked carefully. “Tomoe-san? Or Mio-san, maybe?”

If that’s the case, then the next thing I should be concerned about is that. From the standpoint of Hero aptitude, it’s a plausible explanation. But if it applies to both of them, it also ties into something that’s been bothering me.

“Well, actually,” Makoto said, suddenly hesitant, “it was a pretty incredible weapon made by elder dwarves, and um, I was the one who used it. I’d never destroy a city for no reason, so I hope you understand. It’s not like the Kuzunoha Company uses that kind of thing as a negotiation tactic.”

“?!”

What did he just say?! Hibiki thought.

Seeing her consternation, Makoto laughed awkwardly.

“I really didn’t think it was that impressive…”

What he meant was, I didn’t think an attack like that was anything worth being shocked over.

Hibiki understood it in a completely different way. More like, possessing a ludicrous attack capable of erasing a city in a single strike.

“Makoto-kun. You fired that attack?!” she demanded.

“Yeah. I mean… yes.”

“By yourself?”

“?” Makoto tilted his head, then nodded. “Yes.”

“…”

“Senpai?”

“I see,” Hibiki said at last, forcing a smile. “So, you’re a long-range combat specialist. I have to admit that really surprised me.”

That wipes out more than half of my response plans. This is bad. In that case, I absolutely need to ask him about that, or I won’t be able to see what comes next. And if his personal combat ability’s already specialized at that level, then it also means he might genuinely be worthy of commanding Tomoe-san and Mio-san.

“I’ve always been good with a bow,” Makoto said simply. “Even in this world, it’s what I rely on.”

“By the way, Makoto-kun,” Hibiki said. “Gaining that level of skill couldn’t have been easy. Do you mind if I ask you something?”

In truth, when it came to training, Makoto hadn’t really found anything in this world difficult.

If anything, the period when Makoto had truly struggled in that regard was his childhood, before he’d attained even an average physique. And that was back in Japan.

“If it’s something I can answer,” he said, replying with the convenient stock phrase he’d picked up since becoming a merchant.

“Makoto-kun,” Hibiki asked evenly, “have you ever killed a hyuman, a demi-human, or a demon?”

Makoto didn’t hesitate before answering.

“I’m not sure why you’re separating demi-humans and demons, but yes. I have. For what it’s worth, I’ve experienced the battlefield, too.”

“So, you consider demons to be just one of many demi-human races?” Hibiki murmured. “I see. So, you have, then.”

“I’ve been treated brutally. Had killing intent directed at me. Been attacked outright,” Makoto explained calmly. “In this world, those things really do put your life on the line.”

Demons are just another race, huh. That’s not something you hear often if you’re on the hyuman side of things. Deep down, even I thought of demons as just demons until fairly recently. If that’s how he sees it, then perhaps this war we’re in looks to him like a revolution by an oppressed class known as demons. Troublesome. And just now, he had absolutely no problem confirming that he’s killed. A person raised with a Japanese moral education should feel major resistance to taking a life. That’s not something you lose overnight. I’ve read reports about soldiers on the battlefield who couldn’t bring themselves to kill, even if they died as a result. Being able to kill, to cross that line at all, can be considered a trait in itself. That’s why armies deliberately train soldiers to numb that aversion. And yet Tomoki, Makoto-kun and I all overcame it and are still alive. Is that really a coincidence?

“That’s true,” Hibiki said out loud. “I’ve killed plenty of demons on the battlefield myself. Demi-humans who turned their blades on me… and even some hyumans.”

“For me,” Makoto replied, “the first time I killed a hyuman was after someone I knew was murdered.”

“Someone you knew. That must have been painful. Do you have nightmares? Do the faces of the people you killed linger in your mind? Are you… all right?”

After losing Navarre, I was genuinely pushed to the brink for a while, too. Even if they’re enemies, taking lives takes a toll on you; there’s no avoiding that. Especially when your heart is already worn down. I’ve grown used to the dreams by now. When I talked about it with Tomoki, he put on a brave front. But judging by him, he’s probably already rationalized it away. He gained his abilities in that “strange space” before I did, after all. So, then, how does Makoto-kun feel about it?

“Hm? No, not really,” Makoto said, tilting his head. “At first, sure; I thought, so this makes me a murderer, and I struggled with it. I worried about it. I’ve taken a lot of lives since then, that’s true. But almost all of those were in situations where the other side had accepted it, too. Or in places like the Wasteland, where it’s survival of the fittest.”

Thinking of the savanna-like logic of the Wasteland, Makoto gave a wry smile.

Hibiki was stuck on another word he’d just used.

“Accepted?” she asked, her voice coming out faintly hoarse. Her eyes had gone wide for a moment, and she carefully brought her expression back to normal.

What was that just now? That chill down my spine?

“If you’re armed and fighting on a battlefield, then you’ve accepted that it’s a life-or-death exchange, right?” Makoto continued calmly. “And if you’ve killed someone before, on or off a battlefield, then I don’t think you can really complain if you’re killed by someone else someday. That applies to you and me, too, Senpai. You never know how or where hatred will come back around. I’ve already given up on trying to fully grasp that kind of chain; it’s beyond me.”

“Th-then,” Hibiki pressed carefully, “if someone has resolved themselves to fight, or has already killed someone, you wouldn’t hesitate to kill them?”

“If it’s necessary. But no one kills for fun.”

“Otherwise you’d just become someone who repeats killings for pleasure.”

He answered that so plainly, as if it were nothing at all. That composure isn’t an act. This is bad, bad, bad. He’s more dangerous than I’d even imagined. I don’t know why, but if there’s still some Japanese sensibility in there somewhere, there should be a way to interact with him. But how light is life to him, really? How much value does it even hold?

“You mean a serial killer? You shouldn’t joke about that,” Makoto said, although he let out a dry laugh.

“Life’s precious,” Hibiki replied softly. “It’s the one irreplaceable thing each of us has.”

“Yeah, you’re right. So, why do people take it away? Or use it as nothing more than a means to make a living? I guess soldiers are different. They probably have something precious they want to protect. Maybe that’s why they live each moment to the fullest, even knowing the risks.”

As they continued forward, a view worthy of being called spectacular gradually revealed itself through breaks in the trees: a crystal-clear, breathtakingly beautiful lake.

Sadly, Hibiki had no room in her heart to appreciate it.

Her thoughts were consumed by doubt: was Makoto truly someone she could proceed with as planned? Should she even bring up the topic she’d intended to discuss with him?

“Oh, Senpai. Is that Maylis Lake?” Makoto asked, pointing ahead. “It’s bigger than I expected.”

“Yeah. It’s beautiful,” Hibiki replied absently.

Using one’s only life as a means to make a living? That almost sounds like he’s talking about a single casino chip. Something you’re supposed to use carefully because there’s only one. How… light. Too light. Far too light.

He probably believes that even if he takes thousands, or tens of thousands, of lives, as long as it’s on a battlefield, the other side’s already accepted their deaths. No, if my worst suspicion is correct, the Makoto walking beside me right now may already have committed mass slaughter and is still capable of saying things like this afterward.

I don’t know why there’s such a gap between his combat power and mine, but that doesn’t matter right now. What does matter is that he’s far too dangerous without some kind of brake. What do I do? What can I do? Maybe coming here was a mistake; it was too early. If I’d heard Chiya-chan’s impression of him first, I could’ve prepared something more concrete. But then again, we might never have gotten a chance to be alone like this. Mio-san or Lime could’ve acted in the shadows, and he still would’ve come here by himself.

Ah! I see. Was Mio-san being unusually cooperative on purpose? To make me realize how dangerous he is? To make sure I understand what would happen if I interfered with Makoto-kun or the Kuzunoha Company? A city erased by long-range firepower, while on the battlefield, monsters that armies can’t stop, supported by an unbreakable supply line, trample everything in a one-versus-a-thousand slaughter. Even with only the strength I’m aware of, they could bring down Limia itself. What an absurd concealed force.

Cold sweat beaded on Hibiki’s forehead.

Beside her, Makoto gazed at the scenery, letting out an innocent, unguarded remark of admiration.

“This place looks promising. Once I’ve finished my business, could you spare a little time? I’d really like to take a proper look around.”

“… Sure.”

“By the way, the shrine maiden from Lorel—Chiya, was it? Is she doing all right? I heard she collapsed from the shock and’s been bedridden. I’ve been kind of worried about her.”

“You mean she collapsed after seeing you?”

“Ah, so it was because of me?” Makoto frowned. “Why? I still don’t really get it.”

“That was my fault,” Hibiki said. “Didn’t Lime tell you about the shrine maiden’s ability? He seemed to know about the purple cloud.”

“Ability?” Makoto tilted his head.

Lime had reported the matter of the Shrine Maiden’s Eye to Tomoe. She, along with Shiki and Mio, had considered various countermeasures.

In the end, none of them bore fruit. Mio ultimately chose the strategy of doing nothing at all when facing the shrine maiden.

Makoto knew none of this.

He’d instructed his attendants to report anything important, but he’d never told them to report everything. If they did, he would find his days lost to doing nothing but listening to reports. And so he trusted his retainers to act as a kind of filter on information.

The intention had been to brief Makoto about Chiya’s ability before the trip to Limia, but it ended up being shelved in favor of trusting Mio’s supremely confident “countermeasure.”

“Chiya-chan,” Hibiki explained, “gained a kind of magical eye through her training in Lorel. It lets her see a person’s essence. Who they truly are. Even latent qualities that the person themselves isn’t aware of.”

“Like mind-reading?” Makoto ventured.

“Something like that, maybe. In practice, only she can use it. She’s only just learned how to turn it on and off at will, which is why she came back to Limia. Before that, I asked her to look at you and Mio with that eye.”

When she looked at me, she said I was “shining, but still myself.” So, how did Makoto-kun appear to her? That sense of foreboding I feel around him, what shape did it take in Chiya-chan’s vision?

“So, she saw something in Mio, got shocked, and then saw something in me and outright collapsed?”

“That’s it in a nutshell,” Hibiki said. “We still don’t know exactly what she saw. I feel bad for putting her through that.”

If even I feel this chill and unease so strongly, then what Chiya-chan saw must’ve been something unbelievable, Hibiki thought. She’s been through a lot herself; she’s not the kind of girl who faints over trivial things…

“That’s honestly pretty depressing to hear,” Makoto said.

And yet, he didn’t seem particularly shaken.

Maybe Tomoe and the others didn’t tell me because it wasn’t something that directly harmed me, he reasoned. She was the one who collapsed, after all.

If anything, he seemed to like the idea of having his true nature or latent traits examined.

“When she wakes up, I’ll ask her what impression she got of you,” Hibiki said. “If you want to know, I’ll tell you. You might learn something about yourself you didn’t even realize.”

Hiding things or deceiving him would be far too risky. He’s not someone we can afford to make an enemy of. But at the same time, having him as an ally right now is terrifying in its own way. The best option is distance. To create a world where no one can exploit him. The first step is keeping him close, within my sight. And I need to understand what he values—what he’s willing to protect.

“Is it really okay for me to hear?” Makoto asked. “I’m actually pretty curious.”

“Whether you can be there in person depends on Chiya-chan,” Hibiki replied. “We can’t have her collapsing again.”

“Yeah. Scream—thud, right?”

“To my eyes, you’re just an ordinary young man. In this world, I mostly just feel sorry for you. You’re bound to have a hard time with those looks.”

We’re still in a war with the demons. Even if we somehow make it to the postwar era, Tomoki in the Empire is practically guaranteed to start rampaging next. We’re already stretched thin just rebuilding the capital and purging Limia’s rot, and now something completely absurd shows up right in front of me. This is practically a cursed god situation. If I don’t start moving now, everything falls apart. Honestly, what an endlessly demanding world. Maybe that Goddess really is some kind of deity of trials.

“I’ve had my share of trouble,” Makoto said quietly.

His expression clouded for just a moment, as if a bitter memory had surfaced.

“We’ll talk about that later,” Hibiki said gently. “After you’ve finished your business.”

Just then, they crested a small hill and saw the forest opening wide before them.

Sunlight spilled across a vast lake, its surface shimmering brilliantly. It was a scene of pure, breathtaking beauty.

There were bodies scattered in the wake of Hibiki and Makoto’s passage, but the scene before them seemed to wash that carnage away entirely.

During their walk, Hibiki’s impression and evaluation of Makoto had shifted dramatically.

Now that she’d arrived at the lake, the thought occupying her mind was an intensely practical one: When will Shrine Maiden Chiya awaken?

※※※

Meanwhile, the shrine maiden had awakened.

She lay flat on her back in bed, eyes open, breathing quietly and steadily without uttering a single word.

Mio-san was a spider. The Black Spider of Calamity. I can’t believe it, but it’s true. To me, she looked exactly like that enormous black spider from back then.

No, she wasn’t the same. Two things were different. First, her eyes. Before, they were wild, overflowing with nothing but instinct. This time, they were incredibly calm; gentle, even. And the other difference, that was the collar.

Chiya continued to think.

About that moment, when she had seen the Kuzunoha Company’s entourage arrive at the royal capital.

Lime had been the first to step down from the carriage, just as before.

A great tree appeared behind him, floating like part of a diorama landscape. It was one of the most peaceful images Chiya had ever seen.

Then the black-haired woman emerged.

The instant Chiya saw Mio, she nearly screamed.

A gigantic black spider descended from the carriage. It didn’t rampage or bare its fangs, just smiled at Chiya, who stood frozen under its gaze.

Chiya clapped a hand over her mouth, barely suppressing her voice, and struggled to calm herself. To stay composed.

Then she noticed it.

The eyes of this spider were different from those she had encountered before. These eyes conveyed unmistakable intelligence. And round its neck was a collar.

A chain extended from that collar, trailing back into the carriage.

From time to time, the spider gently touched the collar and chain, almost affectionately. At the very least, it showed no sign of resentment or discomfort.

Finally, the representative of the Kuzunoha Company stepped down.

Raidou himself.

At first, Chiya looked at him directly, without using her mind’s eye.

As a hyuman, he was unremarkable to the point of rarity. Plain, even awkward-looking, but nothing more than that.

She couldn’t sense any magical power. Compared to Lime or Mio, he was so obviously weak it was apparent at a glance. And since he was said to be a merchant, Chiya felt there was nothing strange about him at all.

Then Chiya activated her mind’s eye and looked at Raidou.

He was holding the chain.

He appeared as a pure-white hyumanoid: smooth and featureless, like a polished egg. Small in stature, vaguely resembling Raidou’s own silhouette.

And in his hand?

He held the chain that extended from the spider’s collar.

Before seeing him, Chiya had already encountered several people who gave off a similar image.

Some looked like hyumanoid figures molded from soil. Others had a metallic sheen.

From those few examples, she had begun to suspect that this imagery was common among people bound by something.

What they all shared was simple: a hyumanoid shape, and a complete lack of features.

There were individual differences (some had elongated limbs, for instance), but Chiya still didn’t know what those variations signified. That was simply a matter of her own lack of experience.

Raidou’s image, however, was different.

In his left hand, he held a large bow. It was immaculately beautiful, so pristine it felt sacred.

In his right hand were three chains.

One chain extended to the spider.

The remaining two stretched off into the distance, disappearing somewhere beyond her sight.

Chains probably represent Domination, enslavement, something like that. The bow’s the weapon he uses. But it was so beautiful, and he held it so carefully, that it might mean more than just a weapon.

At first, Chiya had been able to observe Raidou’s image calmly.

She thought about the meaning of the chains, the bow, and the color white.

Until she noticed it.

She remembered it being around the neck.

Just recalling that moment sent tremors racing through her entire body.

Still, she closed her eyes once, forced her shaking to stop, then opened them again, steeling herself as she confronted the memory head-on.

She didn’t want to repeat her failure.

Yes, it was the neck. Just there, a portion of that smooth surface was cracked. And at the center of the crack… it was black. At first, I thought it was just a stain, but it wasn’t. It was a cavity. A hole.

Chiya had narrowed her gaze, trying to discern what that black something was.

And she saw it.

There was something there. Was it “there”? Or was it simply “present”? I don’t know. But those eyes.

Just being looked at was enough to flood my mind with images of death. One after another, endlessly. It felt like I was being killed over and over again. This is only intuition, but that thing wasn’t a living creature. It was something that shouldn’t have eyes at all. And yet it was peering out from inside him. Curiously, restlessly, looking around.

When Chiya had locked eyes with the gaze peering out from the crack in that image, terror seized her entire body in a merciless grip, and purely on instinct, she screamed.

She knew screaming wouldn’t make him disappear.

She knew it wouldn’t solve anything.

And yet, she screamed anyway.

That’s what happens when confusion and fear flood your mind, Chiya reflected bitterly, recalling the disgraceful state she’d been reduced to.

It was an experience unlike anything she’d faced in her life so far.

If asked whether she could remain calm the next time she met Raidou or Mio, the answer was obvious. She could not. Chiya prided herself on her curiosity, but even so, she felt no desire whatsoever to learn the true nature of the something lurking inside Raidou.

A person who keeps something like that inside them and yet controls that black spider. Sairitsu-sama is a sage like Hibiki-oneechan, so she was talking about inviting him to Lorel someday, but… no. That’s not okay. He’s not okay. I don’t even know what the other two chains are connected to.

Wrapping her arms around her shoulders, Chiya thought of Sairitsu—chūgū, or head shrine maiden of Lorel, and a kind of older sister to her.

The demons, the Demon King: these were enemies she could still understand.

So, were demi-humans and monsters who openly bore hostility toward hyumans.

Now, for the first time in her life, Chiya was engulfed by a vast, formless anxiety, one without clear cause. And she had no idea how she should respond.

What is the Kuzunoha Company? There’s no way it’s just a normal shop…

She understood, rationally, that she needed to report what she’d seen as soon as possible.

But her body still wouldn’t move, so there she lay, trapped in bed.

One thing was certain: even though she hadn’t exchanged a single word with him yet, Chiya’s impression of Raidou was already at rock bottom.

※※※

“Mm… Senpai, this way,” Makoto said after just a moment’s thought, striding confidently toward the lakeshore.

“Makoto-kun, this is your first time here, right?” Hibiki asked.

“Yep.”

“Then how do you know which way to go? You didn’t have a map, did you?”

“Because once you reach the lake, you’re told where the guide will be,” Makoto replied.

“I see. So, that’s it.” Hibiki’s tone carried a hint of doubt.

She suspected, rightly, that Makoto’s answer was only half the truth.

It was true that a guide was waiting somewhere around the lake. It was also true that Makoto had already pinpointed their location using Realm.

For now, though, he wasn’t deploying his magical body, and Realm was being used purely to gather environmental information.

Considering where we’re headed, it’s probably better not to use the magical body, the Materia Prima, he was thinking. Still, abbreviating Materia Prima as MP feels way too on the nose. Straight-up Magic Points. If you flip it to PM, it’s either afternoon or, if you put numbers with it, it sounds like particulate matter. Not good for you. Does Luto seriously have no naming sense?

Not that I’m one to talk.

Lost in such idle thoughts, Makoto had completely relaxed into sightseeing mode.

Hibiki, on the other hand, was under considerable strain.

Part of it was because she was still thinking through countermeasures regarding Makoto, but that alone would’ve been within her tolerance.

What truly robbed her of the margin she normally maintained was her concern over the imminent contact between Makoto and the being that dwelled in Maylis Lake.

Hibiki had been informed beforehand that this place was the residence of a greater dragon bearing the epithet The Waterfall—Lyca.

Having once made contact with Lancer, Hibiki possessed a more accurate understanding of greater dragons than the average person.

Lyca was even worshiped as a deity in this region.

Hibiki knew this was not an existence to be approached carelessly.

I’ve never met Lyca myself, but there’s no doubt that this lake, and everything around us, is kept in order by that dragon. It’s not out of fear that people worship it; it’s out of gratitude for the blessings they get. The monsters living in this forest never stray beyond its borders, and they don’t expand their territory. That kind of unnatural balance has a dragon’s hand all over it. In fact, the water flowing from this lake and the greenery it sustains are incredibly beneficial. Hunters have come into the outer edges of the forest for generations, and there are thriving cities along the rivers branching out from the lake.

In other words, Lyca is capable of coexisting with hyumans. Which means unnecessary conflict must be avoided. I can’t let Makoto-kun kill it.

For the first time, Hibiki was thinking of Makoto as someone who could potentially slay a greater dragon.

That assessment was tied to one of the many hypotheses she’d formed while trying to grasp Makoto’s true nature.

To her, Makoto represented a walking hazard. She imagined plastered head to toe with skull-and-crossbones warnings that read do not touch.

“Oh, there they are.”

“Huh?”

Hibiki followed the direction Makoto was pointing.

Sure enough, something could be seen along the distant water’s edge.

“There’s our guide,” Makoto said. “I’ll ask if it’s okay for you to come along, too, Senpai.”

“Makoto-kun, sorry to bring up something obvious,” Hibiki said quietly, “but this lake has a master. Something like a water god.”

“A water god? That’s a nice way to put it. Eastern dragons are basically that, after all.”

“Wait, you already know what’s here?! At Maylis Lake?”

“Well, more or less. I always try to learn the basics of the places I’m going to. This is the territory of the greater dragon Lyca, right?”

“That information isn’t supposed to be public knowledge outside the kingdom,” Hibiki said, shaking her head slowly. “There’s just old legends about it, in a few of the villages around here and some of the cities along the river basin.”

Hibiki, of course, had learned the truth directly from the royal family, only later hearing about those local traditions.

Which was exactly why Makoto’s certainty bothered her. He didn’t just know that a greater dragon existed here, but its name, too.

“I heard it from the client for this delivery,” Makoto said.

“I see. Then, would you mind telling me who that client is? I may be a Japanese Hero, but I also work for the Kingdom of Limia now. I can’t just ignore the possibility of you causing trouble with a greater dragon.”

“I’d like to check with the client first before I answer that,” Makoto said after a brief pause. “It’s work, so I’d rather not promise anything I can’t guarantee. But I can assure you that this delivery won’t cause any problems with Lyca.”

“All right. I’ll trust you, Makoto.”

So, he does take responsibility for the jobs he accepts, Hibiki thought. Still, “that person” he mentioned earlier, wasn’t that a monster? If so, it’s reasonable to assume the request didn’t come from the Adventurer’s Guild. What exactly is he delivering, and to whom?

Her suspicion proved correct.

What waited at their destination looked like a hyuman-sized mass of translucent gel. Judging by its presence alone, Hibiki would’ve rated it as upper-middle tier among the monsters she’d encountered so far.

Fortunately, it showed no hostility. Instead, it moved closer, calmly welcoming the two of them.

For a Hero who’d only ever interacted with monsters through combat, it was an extremely awkward reaction.

“Hello,” Makoto greeted the gel politely. “I believe everything’s been arranged. I’m Raidou; I believe I have a delivery for you.”

The monster gave a small nod.

Wait, they can understand each other? Is that Makoto-kun’s ability?

The words Makoto spoke reached Hibiki’s ears as perfectly ordinary Japanese. Which, of course, was not a language one expected monsters to understand. But from the thing’s reactions, it was clear that it knew exactly what he’d said.

“Yes, that’s right. I have it here,” Makoto continued. “And if it’s all right, the Hero of the Kingdom of Limia, Hibiki, would like to join us as well. Would that be okay?”

“…”

They’re… talking, right? To me, it just looks like a gelatinous mass trembling a bit. Are they using telepathy? But Makoto’s speaking out loud, like normal.

“Thank you. Oh—here? Right now? All right.”

While Hibiki was still sorting through her thoughts, the discussion seemed to conclude. Makoto thanked the slime-like creature, then opened the mouth of the cloth sack slung over his shoulder.

From it, he produced a large egg.

Hibiki had expected something spherical, so it fit within her rough expectations, but just barely. For one thing, it was far larger than any egg she’d ever seen.

“Makoto-kun. What is that?” she asked carefully. “I mean, it’s obviously an egg, but—”

“You don’t get many chances to see one, do you?” Makoto said casually. “This is a dragon egg.”

“A dragon?!” Hibiki blurted, alarm sharpening her voice.

Maylis Lake was the territory of a greater dragon.

Exchanging dragon eggs in a place like this could spark an extraordinarily delicate and dangerous situation.

“Yes. It’s Lyca’s egg,” Makoto answered. “I guess you could say I’m just helping it get back home.”

“Ly… ca?”

“Senpai?” Makoto chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “That one surprised you, didn’t it?”

From Makoto’s perspective, it was the kind of reaction you got when a joke landed perfectly. But the last thing Hibiki was thinking about was how her reaction had made her look.

If this had been the kind of joke meant to make her laugh, she would’ve had the presence of mind to play along properly, to respond in a way that pleased the other person.

But it wasn’t that kind of joke.

“Wh-why,” she demanded, forcing her breathing back under control, “would you, someone who lives in Rotsgard, be carrying something like that?”

“There’s… a bit of a situation behind it,” Makoto replied vaguely.

“You said it was Lyca’s egg, didn’t you? Don’t tell me some idiot actually stole a greater dragon’s egg?!”

“Eh—ah. Well, when I say Lyca’s egg, I don’t mean her child. It’s Lyca herself. There were various, um, things that happened a little while back.”

“Herself?!” Hibiki snapped. “Listen, Makoto-kun. You don’t get to brush this off with ‘various things that happened.’ Lyca’s a dragon living in Limian territory. I can’t just pretend this doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“Uh, well, that’s… I can’t really say without asking these folks—wait, huh? Hey, hold on a sec—aeugh?!”

As Makoto scrambled for an explanation, he noticed the gel creature and let out a confused sound.

Part of the monster’s gooey body had stretched out, morphing into something like a hammer. Despite their telepathic exchange minutes before, Makoto didn’t seem to have any idea what was going on.

Right in front of them, the gel swung the hammer-like limb down in a single, decisive motion.

Crack.

The hammer struck the egg, sending a large fissure spreading across the shell.

Honestly, the fact that it didn’t shatter completely was more impressive.

“… Safe? Or—wow, that thing’s tougher than it looks,” Makoto murmured.

“W-wait!”

Both he and Hibiki stood there, staring in stunned silence.

The gel creature did nothing further. It simply remained beside the egg, motionless.

Then a sound began to echo through the quiet forest.

Tap. Tap.

“You’re kidding,” Hibiki whispered as she realized where it was coming from. “It’s hatching? Here?”

“Oh. So, that was an assist to speed up the hatching,” Makoto said, understanding dawning on him.

The sheer absurdity of the situation had flipped their levels of composure 180 degrees.

All they could do was stand there and watch.

Finally, after several tense moments and several more resounding taps, the thick shell bulged upward from the center of the crack. Looking surprisingly like a newborn chick, a dragon’s head—small enough to perch on a hand—pushed through and peered out at the world.

How the hell does a greater dragon suddenly decide to hatch like this? And Makoto-kun doesn’t even look worried?! Is this kind of catastrophe just normal for him?

It’s a Western-style dragon. A lake-dwelling dragon, water-aligned, exceptional at healing. I was hoping for more of a serpent type. Is Tomoe the only snake dragon around?

But wow. I actually can’t imagine a less cute way of breaking out of an egg.

Hibiki’s thoughts felt jumbled as she struggled to process what her eyes were seeing.

Makoto, meanwhile, was gazing at the emerging dragon’s head and claws with curiosity.

He’d sort of expected Lyca to thrash about, shaking its body to fling shell fragments everywhere. But despite being no bigger than Makoto’s hand, the dragon had calmly and methodically used its claws to split the shell and extract its body.

The light in its eyes wasn’t innocent. Nor was it naïve.

It was the gaze of a being that already possessed mature intelligence.

Once the creature was fully free, it raised a small claw and traced a sigil in the air. Just minutes after hatching, it was invoking magic.

The broken shell around it instantly froze, shattered into dust, and vanished.

Lyca rolled her neck left and right as if checking its range of motion—then turned her gaze to the gel monster.

“I appreciate you guarding this place in my absence,” the dragon said. “I should increase your numbers as well.”

Wait, she can talk right out of the egg? Makoto thought. Nobody told me that. Honestly, couldn’t she have just come back on her own if she wanted? She even cleans up after herself. Zero cuteness points. Well, Gel Boy looks thrilled, so I guess that’s fine.

The monster, meanwhile, was trembling more violently than ever before. Inside its semi-transparent body, thousands of tiny bubbles churned in excitement.

Only then did Lyca turn her attention to Makoto and Hibiki.

Makoto, accustomed as he was to Luto, Tomoe, and other greater dragons, remained as relaxed as ever.

Hibiki, however, went rigid.

She’d never before faced a greater dragon like this.

Sure, there was Lancer, but that had been in battle, and Shiki’d done most of the fighting.

“Raidou. You have my gratitude for answering the request of that troublesome, whimsical individual,” Lyca said, her voice calm as she addressed Makoto. “For returning me to Maylis Lake—thank you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Makoto replied lightly.

“I would like to speak with you at leisure later,” Lyca continued. “Would you be willing to stay with me a little longer?”

“As long as I can make it back today, there’s no problem,” Makoto said, then glanced sideways. “Right, Senpai?”

“Ah, yes. That’s fine, Lyca-sama,” Hibiki answered quickly.

“Hehe. There’s no need for honorifics,” Lyca said with a gentle smile. “Hero of Limia, Hibiki—whether it was strictly necessary or not, I appreciate you escorting Raidou this far. And I thank you as well for the royal family’s continued observance of our contract. As a gesture of goodwill, I will invite you, too, alongside Raidou, to my dwelling. It has been a very long time since I last welcomed someone there.”

“Thank you very much,” Hibiki said.

She seems sharp-minded, she thought. And Lyca herself appears to have her own thoughts about Makoto-kun. Just a hunch, but there’s probably something complicated going on here. Either way, if I can hear even a little of it, that’s better than nothing.

“Then let us proceed,” Lyca said. “Raidou. Hibiki. Please remain as you are.”

She shifted her gaze to the gel creature.

The monster swelled, its body expanding outward and spreading open as if forming a mouth. The mouth enveloped Lyca, Makoto, and Hibiki—and then the creature dove straight into the lake.

“Between land and lake lies the space where I reside.” Lyca’s voice came as if from a distance. “You’ll get to enjoy the underwater scenery for a short while.”

The gel monster’s body was normally faintly cloudy, but now that it had stretched into a thin membrane, the outside was easy to see.

A full 360-degree underwater panorama unfolded around them. It looked like an advertisement aquarium would proudly advertise.

Between land and lake, huh; not land and sea. Good thing I turned my magical body off. That could’ve gotten awkward when it wrapped around us.

Stay calm. Keep the core of myself cold at all times, and assess the situation. No matter how harsh things get, rushing ahead without that margin never leads to the best outcome. That leeway isn’t luxury, it’s a lifeline. Don’t panic. Even if the decisions I make here could affect the war and what comes after, I won’t give up on achieving the best possible “better,” even if the perfect outcome’s out of reach. That’s my role now.

Each of them carried their own thoughts as they sank into the water.

The day at Maylis Lake was far from over.

※※※

The capital of Limia, Ur.

Reconstruction was not going well.

Even with contributions from the royal treasury, the wealth of the nobility, and the tireless efforts of knights and citizens alike—despite allocating every resource as effectively as possible—progress stubbornly failed to meet expectations.

Winter played its part, certainly. In fact, had the city been reduced completely to bare ground, rebuilding might have been faster. But reality was less convenient.

The first steps of reconstruction meant clearing endless rubble and repairing roads that had been gouged out and left unrecognizable. And with the kingdom still at war—and monsters a constant threat—repairing the city’s walls took priority over everything else.

Given all that, and especially compared to other cities, Ur’s recovery was actually proceeding at a commendable pace. Under normal circumstances, no one would have been complaining.

Unfortunately, there was one problem.

Another city had been destroyed at the same time and was already making a miraculous recovery.

Rotsgard, the Academy City.

Ur and Rotsgard were similar in size, and both had multiple satellite cities. And yet, the speed of Rotsgard’s reconstruction was nothing short of astonishing.

The discrepancy between the two cities was so great that citizens and nobles of the royal capital began questioning whether their own reconstruction plans were fundamentally flawed.

In the end, the Limian royal family formally requested assistance from Rotsgard.

It was widely known that Rotsgard’s recovery had been driven by the mobilization of countless students and mages. Limia hoped to adopt the same approach.

With Hero Hibiki acting as envoy, the request was approved. Within less than a month, many students and spellcasters would be participating in the capital’s restoration. Their motives varied, no doubt, but the result was the same.

That the request had been accepted meant Rotsgard no longer needed those mages.

It was proof that the city had already regained much of its former strength.

A metropolis counted among the world’s largest had pulled itself out of devastation in only a few short months, a remarkable recovery that would look like a sharp “V” on a graph and be spoken of for years to come.

Under those circumstances, Mio, who was being guided through the city by Prince Joshua, didn’t hesitate to voice her dissatisfaction.

“This is progressing rather slowly, isn’t it?”

“Rotsgard’s just abnormally fast, is all,” Lime replied pragmatically. “We helped out there, too, but that place is basically a treasure trove of mages. When the folks giving orders and the folks carrying them out click just right, you get something close to a miracle.”

From Mio’s expression, it was clear she was not buying this explanation.

“That being the case, why not rebuild the outer wall further out and expand the city while you’re at it?” she asked coolly. “Is there truly no leader here with the brains to think that far ahead?”

“Neesan. A city’s outer wall is its lifeline,” Lime replied, choosing his words carefully. “Rebuilding it from scratch is a massive undertaking all on its own. Fortunately, most of the wall’s foundation survived, so restoring it as-is is a perfectly reasonable call.”

“Ah. So, that’s why relocation didn’t go through. Even though it’s obvious this location invites constant harassment from the demons.”

“Hibiki and a handful of nobles apparently pushed for relocation. But in this situation? No chance. Even if they forced it through, who knows how many citizens would still be around by the time a new capital was finished?”

As he spoke, Lime kept stealing careful glances at the prince, who was leading them.

There was no way Prince Joshua couldn’t hear Mio’s words.

Even though they’d been told upon leaving the castle, Please don’t worry about formalities, Lime wasn’t the type to take that at face value. He hovered anxiously between Mio and Joshua, worried she might be picking a fight.

Joshua, however, responded calmly to each of Mio’s barbed remarks.

“Given that both of you have seen the so-called ‘miracle city’ of Rotsgard, your assessment is understandable. The state of the capital is a headache for us as well, and it’s true that our impatience tends to run ahead of reality. Hibiki’s proposal to relocate the capital was certainly worth considering. However, restoring the capital’s functions, its streets, and the people’s lives had to take precedence. For now, at least.”

“How leisurely,” Mio replied flatly. “Will it even be finished this winter?”

She had a good point; a city that had suffered such catastrophic damage couldn’t normally recover at such a pace. Any reasonable plan would span several years at a minimum.

“We must at least restore appearances, no matter what,” Joshua explained. “Ah, this way, you two. You can climb up to the outer wall from here. The view of the capital’s quite different from the one you see from the castle.”

Joshua led them to a staircase ascending to the top of the wall. When they emerged along the shortest route, they were greeted with a sweeping view of both the inside and the outside of the capital.

“Wow,” Lime muttered. “Even with help coming in from Rotsgard, it looks like it’ll take at least half a year just to make things presentable.”

“An accurate estimate,” Joshua said with a nod. “After we reviewed the specifics of Rotsgard’s assistance, our projections reached roughly the same conclusion. Hibiki believes it might be sped up somewhat, but—”

“By then, the demons will already be attacking,” Mio cut in sharply. “And they’re not the sort of enemy that politely waits just because a city is still under reconstruction.”

Her blunt assessment made Lime wince. Unable to stay silent any longer, he reached out to her with telepathy, practically begging.

“Mio-neesan, let’s leave it at that. Please. This is Limia’s problem. Help from Rotsgard is on the way. If we stick our noses in further, I don’t see it ending well. And the boss didn’t tell us to get involved either.”

“Lime. Are you asking to be peeled like a katsura radish, perhaps?”

“A k-katsura?!”

“Honestly. Do you have any idea how much Young Master contributed to Rotsgard’s reconstruction? The first priority is making them understand the facts correctly. Be quiet.”

“N-no, wait!"

“Be quiet. Got it? I’ll explain things properly to Young Master myself. You just need to keep in step with me.”

“… Got it.”

Lime was completely shut down, metaphorical tail tucked firmly between his legs.

To begin with, the gap in both standing and power between him and Mio was far too wide. Trying to confront her head-on was simply pointless.

At best, he could hope to nudge her direction slightly.

“Then,” Prince Joshua asked, turning to Mio, “do the two of you from the Kuzunoha Company have a better solution in mind?”

“Of course,” Mio replied. “If you’d like, I can show you right now.”

Watching that smile, Lime forced his expression into its usual neutral mask. Inside, he was screaming and rolling around in sheer panic.

No! There it is again, that smile! Boss, please come back already! This is impossible for me to handle alone!

Lime had no idea what Mio was planning. But he was absolutely certain she was about to do something.

His stomach twisted painfully. He could only grit his teeth and endure it.

“By all means,” Joshua said, his eyes sharpening slightly as he answered.

“Yes. Let’s see,” Mio said, glancing out over the city. “That district there—there’s rubble piled up everywhere. It looks like no one’s even started working on it yet.”

“No, that area hasn’t been touched yet,” Prince Joshua replied. “Neither has the section beyond it, nor the one to the left. We haven’t even managed to clear the rubble.”

“Are there people living there?” Mio asked.

“At present, the area is off-limits.”

“In that case, would you permit me to use a little magic?”

“Go ahead.”

“Fufu.”

With a small, satisfied smile, Mio slipped a folding fan from her sleeve and pointed it toward the ruined district.

Prince Joshua’s gaze flicked back and forth between Mio and the debris, his expression sharp with concentration.

Lime, who by this point had completely resigned himself to fate, stared off into the distance with a thin, hollow smile.

“Very well,” Mio said softly. “Here I go.”

A black vortex bloomed in the air where her fan was directed.

The piled rubble and earth were swallowed up in an instant, vanishing almost entirely into the swirling darkness.

“?!”

Prince Joshua gasped, reflexively covering his mouth with his right hand. His eyes were practically bulging out of his head with shock.

She did it. She actually did it. Boss, did you see that?

Lime’s inner voice echoed uselessly as he let out a long, weary sigh, feeling like his soul might leak out with it.

Now they definitely know that we had a hand in Rotsgard’s reconstruction. I mean, the boss probably thought he was just helping rebuild the city he lived in, so he didn’t bother telling us to keep it quiet. But I knew we should’ve hidden it better. I really did. And now Mio-neesan’s just going full scorched earth on the secrets. Everything’s coming apart…

“And you said the areas over there, and to the left as well?” Mio continued calmly. “Then…”

She repeated the act, erasing the rubble from two more sections as easily as the first.

Months’ worth of devastation, left untouched due to prioritization, was gone in moments.

“What kind of magic could do that?” Joshua murmured, staring blankly at the newly cleared land. “I’ve never heard of a dark-element spell like that. And where did everything that was swallowed up go…”

His words drifted into silence as he continued to gaze at the expanse Mio’s spell had left behind, which was now nothing but open ground.

“That’s something I’ll take care of next,” Mio answered, as if Joshua had been speaking to her. “For now, anywhere outside the outer wall is acceptable, yes?”

“Ah, would you be able to avoid areas where camps are set up?” Joshua’s tone had slipped into that of someone speaking to a construction supervisor. Which, for a prince, was hardly inappropriate. If anything, his earlier courtesy had been excessively polite.

“Very well. Then that area should suffice,” Mio said smoothly.

She showed no concern for the change in his attitude. But then again, she hadn’t been paying attention to it in the first place.

Turning her fan toward the land beyond the city, Mio summoned another black vortex in midair.

Far in the distance, earth and rubble poured out of the swirling darkness, crashing down one after another. The dull tremors and low rumbling reached even the three of them atop the wall.

“What overwhelming magic,” Joshua breathed.

“Overwhelming?” Mio echoed, nonchalantly. “This much could be done hundreds of times over. If I were serious, I could clear all the rubble and scrap from this city in a single day. She glanced at Lime. “How much time would that shave off the reconstruction?”

“Hmm,” Lime mused. “I’d say at least two months.”

“Oh my. How simple.”

“Mio-dono,” Joshua said carefully, “are you saying you would lend that power to us? That you would help with the reconstruction of this city?”

“I’ll confirm properly once Young Master gets back,” Mio replied. “But helping for today alone shouldn’t be a problem. I’m rather bored without him, after all.”

“Even a single day would be an incredible boon!” Joshua exclaimed. “We’ll, of course, compensate you. I’ll bring the relevant officials at once. Please, I can’t tell you how much your help would mean to us!”

“The officials don’t matter,” Mio said coolly. “But, Prince, my condition is that you remain with us. I want you to witness, with your own eyes, what Mio of the Kuzunoha Company does.”

“If that is acceptable,” Joshua said, meeting her gaze, “I will burn it into my memory.”

The sun was still high in the sky.

What had begun as an impromptu act of reconstruction support promised to turn into a very long day for Mio and Lime.

Chapter 6

“I was imagining something like a cavern,” Makoto said. “But this is completely different.”

“True. But if we’re talking about a water dragon, this might actually be more fitting,” Hibiki replied. “It’s fascinating.”

The two of them were standing inside a colossal temple built atop an island floating at the center of Maylis Lake.

The structure evoked ancient Greece: towering stone tiles and massive pillars, every single component oversized to the point that it was immediately obvious this was no place meant for hyumans to live.

Outside, the scenery had transformed entirely.

The lake surrounding the temple was frozen solid. Violent winds howled across its surface, driving swirling ground blizzards that skittered over the ice like living things. It looked less like a lake and more like a polar wasteland.

There was no sign of life anywhere.

The damage is extensive. If this were a ruin, that’d be one thing. But this is a residence. And there are plenty of new scars, too, which were clearly left by weapons and magic. Whatever Makoto-kun meant by “various circumstances,” it must’ve been something pretty rough.

Both on the outside and the inside, the temple was far too damaged to be called a dwelling.

Hibiki’s assessment was spot-on. Many of the scars were fresh.

Though frozen over, countless gouges and fractures, the work of blades and spells, were carved deeply into both the temple and the lake itself. She was certain now that a large-scale battle had taken place here not long ago.

“Since ancient times, water has also been used as a mirror,” Lyca said calmly. Perched neatly atop the gelatinous monster like a guardian statue, she turned her head toward her guests as she spoke. “The nature of water is far more diverse than people tend to realize.”

The greater dragon Lyca resided on an island at the center of Maylis Lake.

And yet, there was no blue water here. No lush greenery.

Only white, biting cold.

The Maylis Lake Makoto and Hibiki had been walking beside earlier, had no island at its center at all.

The lake they now stood within was better described as a different dimension; an isolated space created by Lyca herself.

Its structure differed greatly from Tomoe’s domain, but Lyca, too, was a dragon with a world of her own.

A mirror, huh. A mirror world, maybe? Reflections on water usually feel unstable, distorted by ripples, but this place feels spatially stable. It looks like demon territory, yet somehow it also looks so much like Tomoe’s Demiplane. Could it be that water’s inherently close to spatial attributes?

“Lyca,” Hibiki said. “If one were to apply water affinity at a high level, would it be possible to construct and maintain a temporary pocket space?”

She was thinking in terms of military application. If storage-type subspaces could be created, even temporarily, it would revolutionize logistics.

The hyuman forces were already struggling. Without gaining ground in technology or strategy, that disadvantage would only deepen.

“I wouldn’t say it’s impossible,” Lyca replied thoughtfully. “But this temple is the result of an accident. One born from the interaction between my own water aspect and the power of Maylis Lake itself. That is also why I reside here. Among the elements, water comes closest to magic that generates space. But if you wish to realize the application you’re imagining, then a truly exceptional illusionist would hold the greatest potential.”

“An exceptional illusionist,” Hibiki repeated, nodding slowly. “I suppose something on that scale wouldn’t be easily achieved.”

She sounded disappointed.

Beside her, Makoto was lost in thought, not outwardly reacting to Lyca’s answer.

That’s basically Tomoe you’re describing. I get the feeling Lyca knows exactly what she’s saying. Makes me wonder, how do greater dragons’ memories even work?

Using Realm, Makoto began surveying the domain in greater detail.

This really isn’t the same as the Demiplane. It’s only about the size of the forest around the lake at most, and it’s clearly deteriorating. This endless winter scenery is probably the result of Lyca’s absence. It’s been left unmanaged.

From the information coming in, he understood that this place was still connected to the real Maylis Lake. Structurally, it was fundamentally different from Tomoe’s Demiplane, which could be completely isolated at will.

“Now then, this way please,” Lyca said gently. “I’m still small, after all. We can talk comfortably here.”

At her invitation, the two people stepped into an inner courtyard.

In stark contrast to the rest of this frozen world, the place was bathed in soft, warm light. From inside, they could see the frozen lake beyond.

A table and chairs had been prepared. Cups and even a teapot were neatly set out.

Makoto and Hibiki took their seats.

The palm-sized greater dragon climbed onto a raised chair prepared just for her.

The gel creature deftly grasped the teapot and poured what appeared to be tea into Makoto’s and Hibiki’s cups.

“He’s pretty handy,” Makoto observed, nodding in honest admiration.

“I have him take care of my daily needs,” Lyca replied. “Though his numbers were greatly reduced during that commotion.”

“Is he a familiar? Or more like a follower?”

“He has the same relationship to me as she does to the misty lizardfolk, Raidou.”

“Ah.”

Lyca had phrased it in a way only Makoto would immediately understand.

“Lyca,” Hibiki interjected carefully, “are you sure it’s all right for me to be here?”

Since she’d already been permitted to stay, the question was more a matter of courtesy than anything else.

“Of course,” Lyca said without hesitation. “I have a personal interest in you as well. Please do stay. My conversation with Raidou won’t take long, and afterward, there are things I’d like to discuss with the two of you together.”

“All right.”

“Now then, Raidou,” Lyca continued. “That individual caused you no small amount of trouble. While the situation has been brought under control, it’s easy to imagine how much worse things could have become without your strength. Once again, you have my thanks.”

“It’s really not worth such formal gratitude,” Makoto replied easily. “And honestly, the one who was probably inconvenienced the most was Gront-san. You might want to show your appreciation to her more than to me.”

“Gront, yes,” Lyca nodded. “You had already met her after crossing the White Desert. Given my condition at the time, it’s true I placed a considerable burden on her.”

“Exactly.”

“Regardless,” Lyca said, her tone growing slightly more solemn, “as a greater dragon, I believe I must repay you properly. I doubt you would be pleased by gold or material wealth. So, I have prepared a grimoire.”

At the word grimoire, Hibiki’s guard immediately rose.

She understood all too well how dangerous a powerful magical text could be.

With Makoto-kun, sometimes I sense overwhelming magic, sometimes nothing at all; it’s hard to pin down. And given that attack that dispersed the purple cloud, it’s reasonable to assume his magical power’s already immense. Which would mean a dragon’s grimoire could inflate his strength even further. But there’s no realistic way to stop it. So, frustrating…

“A grimoire?” Makoto said. “Thank you very much.”

“I believe it’s a book you’ll need,” Lyca continued. “I hope you’ll use it to guide things toward a harmonious, favorable outcome. Of course, you may take as many copies as you like. I’ll have someone guide you. Why not go and see them now?”

“Is that really all right?” Makoto asked.

If Lyca, who clearly knew far more about the circumstances than she let on, had prepared these grimoires specifically with him in mind, it was only natural that his interest would be piqued.

“Of course. You’ve accepted my thanks, and if you’re willing to accept your reward as well, that would make me very glad. I’ll have an attendant waiting beyond the courtyard, along the lakeside corridor. Let’s say the formalities are over for now. I have something I’d like to discuss with Hibiki while you’re away.”

“Thank you very much. Sorry to trouble you.”

She might be the most serious, straightforward greater dragon I’ve met so far. I truly don’t know what to make of this.

Makoto stood, followed the corridor Lyca indicated, and soon disappeared from the sight of the other two.

As they watched his back vanish, a brief silence settled between Lyca and Hibiki.

“I figured you wanted to speak with me alone, since you had Makoto-kun leave,” Hibiki said at last, meeting Lyca’s gaze straight on. “But to be honest, I’d thought you were closer to Makoto’s side than mine. May I ask why?”

Lyca smiled faintly.

“You’re perceptive. Just as I hoped—you truly are the kind of person I believed you to be, Hibiki. I wanted to be alone with you because there is something I wish to ask of you.”

“Ask me?” Hibiki echoed. “You’re a greater dragon. Why ask me anything?”

“Is that so strange?” Lyca replied calmly. “Even the Goddess herself makes requests of Heroes.”

“…”

“As you can see, I’m not in a position to wield much power at the moment. Ideally, I would have made contact with you before things reached this point, but unforeseen circumstances prevented that.”

“You mean the ‘various things that happened’ that Makoto mentioned?”

“Of course. If I’m going to ask you for something, I will explain the situation in due time,” Lyca said. Then her tone shifted, becoming slightly more intent. “… Hibiki.”

“Yes?”

“I would like you to seal Raidou.”

“—!!!”

The words were so far beyond what she had anticipated that Hibiki’s breath caught in her throat.

Shock lingered plainly in her eyes as she waited for Lyca to continue.

“When I say seal, I don’t mean that I want you to do anything violent,” Lyca said. “More specifically, I want you to prevent him from growing any further. I want you to act as his restraint. His watcher.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“I believe you’ve already realized this yourself. That man is extremely dangerous. Even now, he is a threat to every single being that lives in this world.”

“That much?” Hibiki asked quietly.

“Yes.”

Lyca’s voice carried no exaggeration.

“We greater dragons do not, by nature, intervene in conflicts between hyumans and demi-humans. Frankly speaking, we have little interest in which side enjoys an age of prosperity. That is why, aside from the spirits who serve the Goddess, greater dragons have not taken an active role in the current war between hyumans and demons.”

“…”

It was true; though widely known as beings of immense power, the greater dragons had largely stayed out of the ongoing conflict.

Gront, who had granted her blessing to an imperial knight, was a trial-giving dragon—one who bestowed power on hyumans periodically, regardless of whether war existed or not.

The sole exception was Lancer, who acted alongside Sofia the Dragon Slayer. Yet even Lancer had not sided with hyumanity or the demons. Bound by his contract with Sofia, he had simply pursued his own purpose.

“And yet,” Lyca continued, “when I consider this world as a whole—hyumans, demi-humans, and every other race within it—there is now one hyuman who has become an unprecedented threat.”

Her gaze hardened.

“That is Raidou. Makoto Misumi. Depending on how he chooses to act, even I may be forced to move.”

“An unprecedented threat,” Hibiki repeated.

And she understood.

Lyca’s perception was frighteningly close to her own.

This dragon grasped the danger posed by Makoto with the same intuition, the same unease, as Hibiki.

“Hyumans are like water,” Lyca explained. “Ever-shifting. Endowed with vessels that are flexible and capable of changing into countless forms. Ordinarily, that change should be observed and allowed to unfold. Even if a revolutionary arises among your kind, one who shatters old systems, that, too, is part of the natural flow.”

She paused.

“But Raidou is not that.”

Her voice dropped, becoming heavy with certainty.

“He does not create. He only destroys. The old order, the present state, the future yet to come: he possesses the potential to shatter all of it. And that possibility burns within him more vividly than in any being I have ever seen.”

So, almost the same conclusion as I came to, but not quite. Makoto-kun doesn’t hesitate to fight once hostility is confirmed. And he treats life, probably including his own, with a frightening level of detachment. If killing’s the most efficient way to resolve a problem, he’ll remove the obstacle without hesitation. He accepts that flow as natural. What lies beyond that point, he likely isn’t looking at. And even without seeing what’s ahead, he steps forward without pause.

Lyca had been slain by Sofia and temporarily absorbed. Given that she’d intended to make contact with Hibiki, her death had been a massive miscalculation. And yet she had gained far deeper insight into the enigma known as Raidou.

Two battles against Sofia.

Time spent within the egg.

Above all, Luto’s analysis.

Together, these experiences had led Lyca to understand Makoto Misumi far better than she ever should have.

The first thing that had filled her mind afterward was rage. Rage at her fellow dragons who had been closest at hand.

Just how far are you planning to indulge your own selfish amusement, you piece of—! What do you think this world even is?!

Eighty percent of that rage had been aimed at Luto.

The remaining twenty percent, at Tomoe.

The words themselves were too vile to repeat; it was language Lyca herself hadn’t used in many lifetimes. But then again, Lyca hadn’t been so angry in many lifetimes. Had she ever held this level of fury within her?

Which was why, when she learned that Hibiki, the Hero she’d had her eye on, had come to Maylis Lake together with Raidou, Lyca felt genuine gratitude for the coincidence. And in that moment, she decided to abandon caution entirely.

“At the very least, the man I knew before wasn’t like this,” Hibiki said slowly. “He was just a normal boy. I don’t think he possessed anything so thoroughly abnormal back then.”

“The most likely cause is this world itself,” Lyca replied. “Torn away from his family, from a peaceful society steeped in shared common sense, the values he once accepted in that world have gradually begun to peel away. Even so, there’s still a thin shell around him. Rather like the membrane of an egg. Morality. Ethics. Those still live on. What you remember of the former Raidou, that is what remains.”

“So, the abnormality that would’ve stayed buried if he’d never come here… Does that mean he was never meant to come to this world?”

“Exactly. If you consider a scenario where only he had been summoned here, then the fact that salvation still exists in the current situation could almost be called miraculous.”

“I’m sorry, what do you mean by that?”

“The head of the greater dragons maintains a connection to the Goddess. This information comes from that source, so its credibility is beyond doubt. Originally, the only one who had a true karmic tie to this world was Raidou.”

“So, the irregular ones aren’t Makoto, but us? The ones summoned as Heroes?”

“Yes. And this is only my conjecture, but I believe that fact has become one of Raidou’s burdens.”

“A burden? Why would that be?”

Hibiki’s question was perfectly reasonable.

Both she and Tomoki had received an explanation from the Goddess and had accepted the transfer to this world. Perhaps they’d been given too little time to deliberate, but it had been their choice.

Even if becoming Heroes was an irregularity, there was no reason for anyone, least of all Makoto, to feel indebted to them.

“This is only a hypothesis,” Lyca said evenly. “I want you to confirm it yourself, with your own eyes and ears, when the opportunity arises. And if it proves correct…”

“… You want me to keep quiet about the fact that I don’t feel that way at all. Rather, that I think it’s completely misguided.”

“Your quick understanding is appreciated. Use it to your advantage.”

If someone carried guilt of their own accord, then it was something to be used, not corrected.

On that point, their thinking aligned perfectly.

“To be honest,” Hibiki said, “I’ve sensed the danger of Makoto-kun for a while now. Today is when it crystallized into certainty. I don’t know if I can fully meet your expectations, but I do believe I need to find a way to coexist with him.”

“That will suffice,” Lyca replied. “Do not accustom him to battle. Keep him as far from war as possible. If he wishes to live as a merchant, then affirm that choice and support it. For the time being, that is the best course.”

“There’s no true solution, then?”

“There is one. However, while Raidou himself might accept it, those around him would not. If you could persuade them, then the ideal solution is precisely what he is going to see right now.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s quite simple. The ritual of return—the method of sending him back to his original world. From my perspective, that is the optimal answer. But given the current circumstances, it is all but impossible to realize.”

“Send him back?!” Hibiki gasped, and her eyes lit up at once. “You mean a way to return him to Japan! Then—!”

If that was truly possible, then Raidou—who likely held little lingering attachment to this world—could be completely removed with his own consent. No bloodshed. No collateral damage.

Hibiki couldn’t have imagined a better solution. This way, no one had to be unhappy.

Yet at the same time, Lyca’s regretful tone and the word impossible, gnawed at her.

“The ritual requires the lives of roughly a thousand people to complete,” Lyca said with a sigh. “And it is strictly one-way. There is no return. Moreover, it cannot be forced; without the subject’s consent, the ritual itself will not activate.”

“A thousand,” Hibiki murmured.

Even so, she weighed the number in her mind. Was it large or small when measured against the future of the world?

“Raidou has formed many unusual bonds,” Lyca continued. “There are not a few individuals in this world with whom he shares deep ties. It is simply not a realistic option.”

“Tomoe and Mio.”

“Yes. That is the crux of the problem. As for Mio, your companion Chiya should know more than enough. You should speak with her when you return. What I can say with certainty is this: whether Tomoe or Mio, obtaining their consent for the ritual would be impossible. Those born of this world cannot follow Raidou home, even if they agree to the ritual. They would be left behind.”

“…”

“Hibiki. You must restrain him. Not through battle, but through other means. Change him, and bind him within peace if you can. Raidou’s vessel for power is fundamentally different from yours, or from the Empire’s Hero. He is a mutation. To oppose him through force would be the act of a fool. No matter how large a container a hyuman might build, it cannot hold the sea. This is not a matter of comparison; it is a matter of category.”

“A vessel for power.”

“To be frank,” Lyca continued, “if he continues to grow as he is now, then even uniting every power in this world would not be enough to wage a proper battle against him.”

“Then… are you saying that even the Goddess—”

“… If the Goddess herself were to descend into this world and fight him directly…”

“…”

“… then the order of this world would be destroyed at its very foundation.”

“That’s absurd.”

“I am certain of it.”

“…”

Was Lyca saying that Makoto already possessed power sufficient to bring down the Goddess herself?

That conclusion was too extreme for Hibiki to accept at face value. Even so, she stored it away—not as fact, but as one possible interpretation of Raidou.

“You understand the Goddess’s world, both its surface and its underside, and yet you still choose to change it from within. That resolve moved me,” Lyca said. “I am weak for now, so I cannot offer you a blessing or a contract. But I, greater dragon Lyca, the Waterfall, promise this: I will be an ally to Hero Hibiki. I entrust this world to you.”

“You mentioned it earlier, but why are you in that form, Lyca?” Hibiki asked.

“Oh, I suppose I haven’t explained yet. To be frank, I was killed by Sofia not long ago. The scars left here are from that battle.”

“… What?”

Did she just casually say she was “killed,” Hibiki wondered, or did I not hear right?

The damage etched into the temple didn’t look like the aftermath of a fight between a single individual and a greater dragon. Just how powerful had Sofia been? A dark shadow crossed Hibiki’s face.

“Sofia, who had already slain Akari and Yomatoi and taken their power,” Lyca continued, “was beaten to within an inch of her life by Raidou. And he himself suffered not so much as a scratch.”

“What?!”

“In the end, Sofia was disposed of by our leader, Luto. Those of us who were released were placed under the care of the greater dragons’ leader in egg form, and now Raidou is delivering each of us to where we belong.”

Hibiki stared, aghast.

“That man also has ties to the demons,” Lyca added. “You’re going to have a very hard time, Hibiki. Any ordinary man would lose his hair young and cruelly under this kind of stress. But I believe you can weigh all the circumstances and arrive at the best possible outcome.”

“W-wait, demons?!”

Bombarded with revelation after revelation, Hibiki was reduced to a reaction doll.

Lyca, gazing straight at her with round, earnest eyes, was applying pressure far beyond what her small body suggested.

“Whew. Saying it all out loud makes me feel better. Like a weight’s been lifted from my shoulders.”

“Well, keep the weight on then!” Hibiki shot to her feet, her voice ringing out in protest. “What do you mean, demons?! That guarantees we’ll end up opposing him at some point!”

“Do your best, Hibiki.”

“You said you’d be my ally, didn’t you? You just said that!” Hibiki snapped. “Then isn’t this exactly the kind of thing you should’ve told me earlier instead of dumping it all on me at once?!”

“I apologize. I was dead until quite recently, you see, and only reborn today. I could observe and listen, but I had no means to convey anything.”

“What even is that excuse? Dead? What do you mean, dead?! Honestly…”

The fight drained out of her all at once. Hibiki slumped back into her chair, legs feeling like they’d given out beneath her.

“And yet, you will not break,” Lyca said gently. “At your core, you are a challenger. And a genius. Squeeze every ounce of strength hyumanity has to offer, and somehow protect this world. And the Goddess, to the extent you can.”

“I don’t know why, but I’m exhausted.”

“When you return, listen to the shrine maiden’s account. And if possible, test your strength against Raidou. Just once. If you do, you will understand. You will see what I saw, and what I feared.”

Whether she was trying to organize the situation in her head or was simply overwhelmed, Hibiki said nothing for a long while. Eyes closed, head bowed, she remained silent.

“I’ll try discussing the return ritual with him. And I’ll try persuading him,” she finally said. “I’ll test him as well. If there’s no choice but to move forward carrying all this, then that’s what I’ll do.”

It’s not the north wind but the sun that makes a traveler shed his coat. It’s not the tiger but the old mother who defeats Watōnai.

I can’t believe that in the middle of an actual war, I’ll be doing this with my other hand. It feels like I’m fighting on two fronts: against the demons, and against the Kuzunoha Company.

“I’m counting on you,” Lyca said. “And please, continue treating Raidou exactly as you have until now.”

“You told me all this because you believed I could do that, didn’t you?” Hibiki replied. “I’m starting to get a sense of your personality.”

“How reassuring.”

Hibiki stood, and Lyca hopped lightly onto her shoulder. Together, they headed toward the archive where Makoto had gone.

“Oh, one more thing, Hibiki,” Lyca said. “I can assume my full size for a short while. I’ll send you back myself. It will add a bit of prestige to your name.”

“If there’s anything I can use to my advantage at this point, I’ll take it,” Hibiki answered without hesitation.

Then she let out a quiet sigh. She was fully aware that sleepless nights awaited her for quite some time to come.

※※※

And so Hibiki and Makoto returned to Ur astride a gigantic dragon.

Lyca’s massive form, soaring in against the crimson evening sky, sent waves of shock through the citizens of the capital. But once it became clear that it was the kingdom’s Hero riding upon the dragon’s back, the surprise quickly turned into thunderous cheers.

Amidst that uproar, Makoto noticed a change in the scenery below.

Huh? Someone’s moved a huge amount of rubble outside the walls. The relief teams from Rotsgard shouldn’t have arrived yet, so was that Mio’s doing?

Having finished his egg delivery mission and in possession of several highly useful grimoires from Lyca, Makoto was in high spirits.

Among the grimoires was a spellbook that might be applicable to freely traveling between worlds. By the time Hibiki and Lyca finished their discussion and came to fetch him, Makoto was so engrossed in reading that he barely noticed their presence.

After dismounting near the outer wall and thanking Lyca, Hibiki and Makoto returned to the castle, where they temporarily went their separate ways.

Makoto met up with Mio and Lime for a daily debriefing. He praised Mio for helping with the reconstruction, thanked Lime for his efforts, and showed them the magic books he’d gotten from Lyca.

Meanwhile, Hibiki attended an emergency council meeting with the king of Limia, Prince Joshua, and the king’s closest aides.

In stark contrast to Makoto’s relaxed atmosphere, the meeting was steeped in tension as Hibiki explained Lyca’s existence.

Naturally, much of what she’d learned from Lyca couldn’t be openly shared, nor could the true depth of the crisis Hibiki felt herself falling into be revealed.

On top of that, Joshua reported on the Kuzunoha Company’s reconstruction capabilities, prompting Hibiki to let out yet another sigh among a number of sighs she’d lost count of for the day.

When the emergency council ended, Hibiki went to see Chiya, who had finally woken up.

“Mio-san is the Black Spider, Onee-chan.”

“Please. Spare me,” Hibiki groaned.

She hadn’t planned on forcing Chiya to describe what she’d seen, so she was genuinely grateful that the shrine maiden brought it up on her own.

Unfortunately, the content was the kind of gratitude that came with psychic damage.

“It’s true,” Chiya insisted. “And then that man, Raidou? He’s either controlling that black spider or keeping her like a pet.”

“… Haaaah.”

“Onee-chan?”

“What is it, Chiya-chan?” Hibiki asked wearily.

Hibiki had already set the guest list for tonight’s dinner: only her own party, the Kuzunoha Company people, and the royals. But she didn’t know whether Chiya would even be able to attend, so her visit doubled as a check-in on her condition and her intentions.

The first thing Hibiki had done upon arriving was apologize for having Chiya use her Shrine Maiden’s Eye. But Chiya had immediately scolded her, saying an apology wasn’t necessary.

“That Raidou guy is absolutely not okay,” Chiya said, her voice small but adamant. “Don’t fight him, and don’t try to be friends with him either. He’s not someone who should be among everyone else. If I were you, I wouldn’t even get involved with the Kuzunoha Company.”

“How did he look to you, Chiya-chan?” Hibiki asked.

“He looked like a white, smooth humanoid image. But inside, there was something really bad.”

“I’ve heard you mention those ‘humanoid images’ a few times before. But you’ve never said anything was inside.”

“The white part was cracked,” Chiya recalled with a shudder. “Just a little. And through it, I saw a little bit.”

“Cracked,” Hibiki murmured. “So, that white humanoid is the shape he wants to be? And it’s fraying? But white… Wait, has anyone else looked white?”

“Mm-hm. But his image was pure white.”

Something about the color snagged at Hibiki’s mind, but she couldn’t remember why.

“Either way,” Hibiki said gently, “I understand that it’s a dangerous image. And that we shouldn’t rush to conclusions about what it means. Thank you, Chiya-chan. You won’t need to use your Eye on them anymore.”

“Okay,” Chiya said. She hesitated, then went on bravely, “But if it’s necessary, I will do it again.”

A bitter laugh leaked out from Hibiki.

“Still, Mio-san is the Black Spider,” she said. “I thought it was strange that we only ran into her once and then never even got a report of another sighting, but to think she’s an employee of the company. That’s beyond unexpected.”

Her voice dropped, turning inward and sounding almost self-punishing.

“So, basically, the one who toyed with me until I was nearly dead, then left on a whim, ended up helping train me later. And even gave me equipment.” She let out a long, hollow breath. “What am I even doing? Seriously.”

Chiya couldn’t recall ever hearing Hibiki’s voice so raw, so touched by pain.

“I think Raidou’s probably even stronger than that,” Chiya said quietly. “And Mio-san didn’t seem to hate being controlled. Also…”

“Yeah. Keep going,” Hibiki urged gently.

“He had three chains. Chains of domination,” Chiya said, hugging her arms tighter. “So, there are two more people. People like Mio-san.”

“Two more. Yeah. I’ve got a pretty good idea who those are.”

“Oh, you do? You really are amazing, onee-chan!”

“Chiya-chan, tonight’s dinner is with the Kuzunoha Company members. Can you come? If it’s too much, you can eat in your room.”

“I’ll go. I did something rude to them, and I should apologize.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“I’d hate it more if I caused trouble for the Kingdom of Limia and the Lorel Union,” Chiya said, her expression far too mature for her age. “So, I’ll be fine.”

Hibiki froze for a heartbeat. Then a small, genuinely pleased laugh escaped her throat, and she nodded.

“Thank you. And after dinner, just as an extra thing, I was thinking I might try sparring with h—”

Chiya cut her off with a voice that was almost a shriek.

“Don’t!!!”

“Not a fight to the death,” Hibiki said quickly. “Just a spar. This is only my guess, but if it’s that kind of match, it should be safe. And even if it isn’t, he’s someone I have to evaluate. Someone else told me to as well, but I already felt it was necessary.”

“He’s way more dangerous than Tomoki-san,” Chiya insisted. “Probably more than the Demon King!”

“I know. I agree, Chiya-chan. I think there are other ways, too, but to be honest, I’ve started wanting to test something.”

“Test him?”

“Not him, me. I thought I was done acting on selfish impulses. But I guess I’m not. I want to throw everything I have at it. So, I can understand him. And understand myself.”

“Then I’ll watch, too. No matter how badly you get hurt, I’ll heal you right away.”

“Please do. And sorry for being such a hopeless Hero.”

“For me, Hibiki-oneechan is the best Hero and the greatest sage!” Chiya blurted, cheeks flushed. “You’re not hopeless at all!”

“Yeah,” Hibiki said quietly. “Thanks.”

※※※

“I never imagined you’d accept a request like this. Thank you, Raidou-dono.”

“It’s nothing. I’ve got a few things I’ve been thinking about, too. And honestly, getting to spar with the Hero? That alone gives me bragging rights with the students back at the academy.”

About two hours after returning from Maylis Lake and finishing dinner without incident, Makoto and Hibiki faced each other in the training grounds behind the castle, a space normally used by the knights.

“I know you’d probably rather have fewer spectators,” Hibiki apologized, “but this was the best I could do.”

A small audience lingered at a distance: Hibiki’s party, the king of Limia, Prince Joshua, a handful of nobles, plus Mio and Lime.

“I don’t mind,” Makoto replied.

I’ll just do what I want to test, then lose gracefully, he thought. Easy.

“Let’s do this for real,” Hibiki said, her tone sharpening. “No holding back. And when we’re done, we’ll have a drink together. You can drink a little, right? After a night like this, it’d be rude not to treat you properly.”

“A little.” Makoto nodded. “I’d be happy to.”

Suddenly, this match was the least of Makoto’s worries.

Alcohol, he thought. Senpai looks like she could drink like a monster. But she won’t force it on me, probably. I’ll just switch to tea early.

With that settled, they widened the distance between them.

Perhaps out of consideration for the fact that Makoto’s weapon was a bow, they stood far beyond a swordsman’s usual range.

“Then let’s begin,” Hibiki said.

“Yes.”

At those words, the air snapped tight, the tension in the grounds rising in an instant.

Hibiki reached for the silver band at her waist and summoned Horn. In the same heartbeat, she unfolded her full armament.

The horn and the silver band flared with light, wrapping her body in a radiance that felt almost physical.

It covered very little skin, barely more than a thin veil, but the divine armament formed an invisible defensive field that granted her durability. At the same time, her speed surged.

Then she drew her wind-aspected sword.

The moment the blade cleared, her acceleration compounded. It stacked, amplified, and turned her into something sharp enough to cut the air itself.

So, that’s the build: speed and firepower, specialized to the extreme. Just like at Maylis Lake. “If you can’t hit me, it doesn’t matter. “Senpai, you’re a maniac, and I mean that in the best way. Defense is decent, but that outfit’s clearly built for mobility.

On top of that, she’s using magic to reinforce her body, too? Full boost. Senpai’s going all-in from the first move.

Bow in hand, Makoto expanded his construct and watched her closely.

He knew immediately that she was the perfect opponent.

After performing “Creation” in demon territory, Makoto had noticed something about his own image. But he hadn’t found the right person to test it on.

Now, he intended to test it on Hibiki.

He had no intention of taking her life, nor even of leaving wounds, or lingering damage, or anything she’d have to carry after this.

With that in mind, Makoto could accept her “serious” match without fear.

A bow fires an arrow straight. With a Bridt or a magic-made arrow, sure, you can cheat that. But a real arrow? I’d always assumed that was just how it worked. Still, in this world, maybe I can do something even crazier.

“… Hah!”

Watching Makoto with her bastard sword held one-handed like a katana, Hibiki swung.

Iaijutsu?! No… that’s not a draw cut. That’s sword pressure.

A faintly tinted wave—compressed force given an edge—rippled toward Makoto. Naturally, it dispersed the moment it met the magic body wrapped around him.

The impact kicked up a curtain of dust, swallowing his vision whole.

That really did look like iaijutsu, he thought. Throwing sword pressure through the air? Now that’s aggressively Hero-like.

Makoto didn’t panic for a moment as he raised his bow and drew an arrow into his right hand.

He didn’t nock it.

He simply waited, still as a drawn breath, listening for her movement. A slash struck the back of his magic body, then another from the right, then left, then left again.

She already closed that distance. She might be faster than that Demiplane wolf!

Despite his impaired vision, he endured the barrage. Every strike was stopped by the mana construct before it could reach his flesh.

Hibiki didn’t feel frantic, but the intervals between her cuts began to subtly, unmistakably widen. She was analyzing.

“Oh, there you are.”

Her presence snapped into focus directly in front of him.

“That defense is insane!” Hibiki called.

From a low, coiled stance, she launched a single, merciless flash. The blade split Makoto’s invisible magic body cleanly in half.

It wasn’t just the mana reinforcement; her speed was so high that Makoto’s eyes couldn’t track the cut.

“No scabbard, and you’re pulling off iaijutsu… How does that even—”

“I just use the wind as my scabbard,” Hibiki said, teeth bared in a grin. “Now I can actually land a proper hit!”

Finally, she’d found something worth sinking her blade into.

But her next strike died before it was born.

The arm of Makoto’s reconstituted magic body slammed her into the ground with overwhelming force, then pinned her in place.

Hibiki’s movement stopped, but she didn’t let go of her sword.

“Using the wind as a scabbard? What kind of brain does that take?!”

“Ggh! I felt that one connect, and still!” Hibiki snarled.

“!”

Something pierced straight through the arm of Makoto’s visible magic body. It was the very arm that had been pinning Hibiki down. And from that point the entire structure collapsed. It was as if its framework had been destroyed from the inside.

A gunshot? No, she’s not using anything like that. She did something with her sword. But she’s moving her whole body like a spring?! Damn, restraining her is hard.

Startled by the sheer power of Hibiki’s mysterious counter, Makoto finally caught her properly in his sight as she leapt back to create distance.

He nocked an arrow and focused entirely on her position.

Hibiki, meanwhile, calmly dissected Makoto’s actions.

I can break out of that restraint if I can pierce it. And that thing pinning me down is probably also his defense. Meaning if I increase the penetration power, there’s a chance I can reach Makoto-kun himself. But with just this much?

Makoto aimed squarely at Hibiki. And in that instant, Hibiki realized something.

I assumed I could dodge his arrows. But this kid is infamous for his absurd accuracy. If that’s been “evolved” in this world the same way my wind-iaijutsu was…

Fine. If it’s truly unavoidable, then I’ll knock it away the moment it touches me.

Their gazes crossed in silence.

Deflect the arrow, split the defense with iaijutsu, then immediately go all-in with a full-power penetration. Turn the tables in one shot.

But Makoto-kun isn’t moving?

Guess I’ll have to make him.

Hibiki vanished.

To Makoto, dust or no dust made no difference; he couldn’t track her at all.

If he’d been actively trying to follow her movement, perhaps it would have been different. But he remained perfectly still, bow drawn, arrow nocked, not shifting so much as a fingertip.

His eyes were fixed straight ahead.

There was no comparison between Sophia’s speed and Hibiki’s speed.

Hibiki blended illusion with reality, exploiting hyuman perceptual blind spots and gaps in awareness. She wasn’t just using raw velocity, but experienced speed.

Just as Lime had judged on first sight, it was viciously hard to deal with.

Unlike the time with Sofia, whom he could barely follow with the naked eye, Hibiki’s speed felt fundamentally alien to Makoto.

Yeah, I really can’t see her at all. Actuallyf, this is perfect. If it were anything less, it wouldn’t be worth testing.

And then, of all things, Makoto closed his eyes.

He burned the last instant of Hibiki’s form into his mind, fixed that image as his target, and quietly loosed the arrow.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt it: the destruction of his magic body. Hibiki’s attacks were growing sharper and stronger by the second, as though some ability were continuously amplifying them. Whatever the mechanism was, Makoto didn’t care.

With his magic body gone, he stopped relying on sight altogether and instead used Realm to grasp Hibiki’s position.

There she was.

Hibiki stood frozen, her right shoulder pierced clean through by the arrow.

The pain and shock had stalled her movement. That was likely the only reason Makoto could locate her so easily.

She really had been that fast.

And then she did something insane.

“Your left hand?!”

Hibiki switched her grip, forcing the sword into her left hand alone, and from that position unleashed her trump card: Pierce.

The wave of blade pressure twisted into a spiral, packed tightly and driven forward to bore through a single point.

Compressing sword pressure and firing it like a bullet? What the hell kind of brain does she have?!

Crap.

Hibiki’s Pierce was already right in front of him.

He’d been too absorbed to redeploy his full magic body in time.

So, instead of his bow arm, Makoto wrapped only his free right hand, the one that had released the arrow, in a partial layer of his magic body and took the attack head-on.

His right hand met the mana-laden blade pressure in front of his chest.

“This is strong! Really strong!!!”

At first, Makoto tried to crush it outright.

The instant he realized that wouldn’t work, he changed tactics and began redirecting instead. He twisted his wrist and violently slapped the attack aside.

“Y-you blocked Pierce with your hand?!”

“Heave, ho!!”

Almost simultaneously with the swing of Makoto’s arm, the deflected Pierce slammed into the ground behind him, detonating with a thunderous roar.

“…”

“Ow, ow. Sorry. I don’t think I can keep fighting,” Makoto said, wincing as he shook his right hand. “I yield.”

Blood dripped steadily from his fingers.

Imperfect as it was, this was the first time Hibiki had managed to land a clean hit on him.

Mio’s brow twitched at the sight of Makoto’s injury, but that was all. She made no move.

“Looks like I’m done too,” Hibiki replied, absentmindedly pulling the arrow from her shoulder. A soft healing light bloomed over the spreading crimson stain. “Let’s call it a draw, Raidou-dono.”

I never even felt it, she thought in awe. If that arrow had gone for my head, I’d be dead without ever understanding how. So, this is what Lyca meant by “difference in capacity.” To Raidou, I wasn’t even a worthy opponent. When the gap is this overwhelming, you don’t even feel competitive anymore.

Hibiki had no idea what Makoto had done.

He’d barely moved, yet she’d been completely led around by the nose, and this was the result.

The only times Makoto had truly acted were when he nocked the arrow, and when he caught her trump card with his bare hand.

When that happened, she understood that she had lost.

Makoto had intended to lose from the start, and Hibiki knew it. So, she’d swallowed the bitterness in her chest and declared it a draw instead.

After that moment, if he’d gone on to theatrically press the advantage just to “lose” on purpose, it would have been unbearable.

So, when I carry the image all the way to the point of impact, it really does turn into that kind of result, Makoto mused. I see. The reason it took me so long to reach full focus compared to usual must be because the difficulty is that much greater. Still, back then, I fired at the image of Senpai standing in that spot. And that arrow hit her exactly as imagined, even though she should’ve been darting all over the place.

At this point, it’s not kyudo or archery anymore. It’s just suspicious. Might still not be enough against a goddess, but it gives me a bit of confidence. Now I just need to bring it up to a practical level.

“Yeah. That felt good,” Makoto murmured.

He was satisfied. What he’d intended to test had worked exactly as hoped.

That the match had ended in a draw instead of his planned loss didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Mio, meanwhile, wasn’t watching Makoto at all. Her eyes locked on Hibiki, she was hiding a satisfied smile behind her fan.

Only Lime noticed that smile.

And because he chose to pretend he hadn’t seen it, no one else ever found out.

Thus ended a long, exhausting day for the Kingdom of Limia.

Chapter 7

“You look much better now, Hibiki.”

“Yes. It was only an arrow in the shoulder. Nothing serious. Thank you for coming to check on me.”

“Check on you?”

Mio’s words trailed off, and silence settled over the room where only the two of them remained.

“Ah. How about his injury?” Hibiki asked after a beat.

“That little thing? I healed it on the spot,” Mio replied with a shrug. “More importantly, though, you’ve been doing quite a bit of maneuvering behind the scenes. You traveled with Young Master, even crossed blades with him last night. By now, you understand, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say I was ‘maneuvering behind the scenes.’ But yes, I understand his strength now.” Hibiki was choosing her words carefully, almost as if weighing each syllable. “Enough strength to have you serving under him.”

The night before, she had indeed crossed blades with Makoto.

At least, she had thought of it as crossing blades. It was painfully clear that Makoto had not been fighting with the same intent. In the end, she’d barely managed to land a single effective attack.

Makoto had yielded, and Hibiki had declared it a draw. To her, however, it had been neither a draw nor a victory.

It had been a loss.

“Unacceptable, Hibiki,” Mio said coolly. “Understanding Young Master’s power is one thing, but keeping secrets from me is another. It was your hand behind arranging for us to stay in the Hopleys’ territory on the way to the capital, wasn’t it?”

“Of course not. That was the result of some rather forceful interference from certain nobles,” Hibiki replied. “If you want to say I failed to stop it, then yes, that responsibility is mine.”

“So, you’re saying you know nothing about what happened there? Nothing at all?”

“Exactly. At least, neither the royal family nor I is aware of anything. Did something… happen?”

“Hibiki.”

“Yes, Mio-san?”

“You, the royal family, and the provincial nobles are all the same to me,” Mio said flatly. “You’re all simply Limia. When the time comes, that will not serve as an escape route.”

“…”

“It doesn’t matter what colors the painting is made of. There’s only a sheet of paper in front of me, waiting to be torn.”

“Ugh.”

Hibiki’s throat moved almost imperceptibly.

She swallowed.

“Look into it. It was nothing worth mentioning in itself, but this is a new debt.”

“I see.”

“And,” Mio went on, “according to Young Master, you’re quite clever, aren’t you? A prodigy who can do anything, or so I’ve heard.”

For a brief instant, Hibiki looked stunned, the tension slipping from her face.

“A prodi—what on earth has Makoto-kun been telling you, Mio?”

“By now, you should understand Young Master and the Kuzunoha Company correctly,” Mio said. “Tell me your conclusion.”

Hibiki just stood there, completely unsure what to say.

“Go on. I’ve scattered more than enough hints over the past few days,” Mio pressed. “If you still don’t understand, then perhaps I’ll need to leave behind something more… tangible. Something you won’t be able to look away from, no matter how badly you want to.”

Hibiki’s eyes widened. The chill in Mio’s voice sounded like a final warning.

“Hibiki,” Mio said softly. “What is Young Master? Based on the information you’ve gathered, and that sharp mind of yours, what conclusion have you reached?”

Hibiki hesitated, thinking hard about what to say next. Then, as if resigning herself, she looked Mio straight in the eye and spoke.

“Raidou, Makoto Misumi, is the Wicked One. It’s him. And the ‘white figure’ who saved me in Limia. That was him as well.”

Hibiki’s quiet words brought a smile to Mio’s face.

Her lips curved. Her eyes softened. Mio smiled in open satisfaction and applauded Hibiki without restraint.

“Well done. Exactly so. The being you call the Wicked One, that is Young Master. And he is also the head of the Kuzunoha Company.”

“I’d had suspicions for some time,” Hibiki replied. “They deepened at Maylis Lake, and after the mock battle, they turned into certainty.”

“It was worth assigning you to Young Master. And it was worth giving that suit to the Rembrandt girl as well.”

“You mean the prototype of the new defensive equipment developed by the Kuzunoha Company,” Hibiki said. “The one being used by a girl named Yuno Rembrandt, that tokusatsu-style suit. So, that was an intentional leak.”

“Of course. I wanted you to arrive at the conclusion that Young Master was the Wicked One. And also the one who saved you.”

“Then I’ve had my life saved by him twice, haven’t I?”

“Yes. The first time, at the cost of injuries to himself. The second time, through a bargain with the Goddess. In both cases, the result was the same: Young Master saved you and this country.”

“I see. That’s true.”

“Then show the proper attitude toward your benefactor. Just by watching Young Master, you must have understood by now, yes? He does not desire war. He helped you simply because you were from the same world.”

“…”

“Good. I’m not telling you to cooperate with us. Just stop interfering with the Kuzunoha Company from now on. And if you see others doing so, and it’s within your means, put a stop to it. Young Master merely wishes to be of benefit to people.”

Hibiki frowned slightly at the last part of Mio’s statement.

“Is that really so?”

“What did you say?”

“Is he truly acting only to provide quality goods at fair prices, purely as a merchant?”

It wasn’t a question Hibiki had pulled out of nowhere. She’d been turning the question over and over in her mind ever since she’d seen Makoto up close.

If the Kuzunoha Company truly held only the intention Mio claimed—if all they really wanted was to sell good goods cheaply for the benefit of the people—then Hibiki couldn’t help feeling there were contradictions in how the company did business.

“If what you’re saying is true,” Hibiki pressed when Mio didn’t respond immediately, “then why has he refined his combat skills to that extent? If he only wanted to live as a merchant, wouldn’t you and Tomoe-san be enough? I don’t think he was strong originally. The Empire’s Hero and I were at least somewhat capable from the start, but considering what he could do back in our world, he shouldn’t have been any more than that. And yet he’s clearly different from us now. He’s obtained a degree of power that’s clearly abnormal.”

“Young Master was cast to the Edge of the World,” Mio replied. “It was a necessity. Nothing more.”

“That necessity! It makes me think he’s even anticipating how he’ll move in war! I didn’t sense ambition from him, but he makes me doubt anyway. Like he has a hidden agenda.”

“You spoke with him, and yet you still entertain such childish suspicions?”

“Yes. I did speak with him. But my unease won’t leave me so easily. His strength and the way he thinks. He’s already far too distant from what you’d expect from a boy raised in a normal household in modern Japan. So, I want to ask you directly, Mio-san.”

Her voice dropped, steadying.

“Is it really okay for him to keep changing like this?”

“That’s not for you to concern yourself with,” Mio said simply. “If Young Master changes as he feels he must, then that is good. All I do is follow. If you want an answer to your question, then of course it is ‘good.’ It could only ever be good.”

Hibiki’s fingers tightened slightly at her sides.

“I can’t answer yet,” she said at last. “How I should treat him, and his company, I can’t decide yet.”

“Hibiki.”

“Not yet. There’s still time. Time to understand him.”

“I see. Fine. We’ll wait a little longer. If you wish to speak with Young Master, I’ll allow it.”

Her gaze turned cold again, and when she spoke, her voice was a freshly sharpened knife.

“But only talk. Absolutely nothing more.”

“I understand.”

Mio exhaled tiredly.

“Haa… troublesome.”

Then she tilted her head, and her eyes regained their usual calm.

“By the way, Hibiki, you already know I’m a spider, don’t you? That shrine maiden has awakened, yes?”

“Th-that—!”

Hibiki hadn’t expected Mio to reveal her identity so casually, at this timing of all moments. She faltered, then gave a stiff nod.

“Yes. I know,” she admitted. “I was told you’re the Black Spider of Calamity. But it’s true?”

“Fufufu. I’m certainly curious how Chiya saw Young Master,” Mio said. “But we’ll save that for later. For now, given that premise, allow me to give you a bit of information.”

“Information?”

“You said Young Master’s strength is ‘abnormal.’ But you should know this: he encountered me, back when I was a spider, within less than two weeks of arriving in this world.”

“?!”

“There was some time discrepancy between his summoning and yours, and Tomoki’s. So, perhaps it was ten days, perhaps a month. In any case, it seems Young Master arrived later than you did.”

“Then you’re saying he fought Mio-san—I mean, the Spider of Calamity—when he’d barely had any experience at all?”

Impossible, Hibiki thought.

If she herself had faced that spider back then, before getting used to combat in this world, before gathering any comrades she could truly trust… well, the outcome wasn’t even worth imagining.

“Yes,” Mio said simply.

“Ah.” Hibiki’s mind scrambled. “Tomoe-san. She was with him then, wasn’t she?”

She remembered the order in which Makoto had met his retainers; Mio had said before that she had encountered him after Tomoe.

“She was there,” Mio acknowledged. “However, Young Master fought me alone.”

“No, that’s—”

“And he was wounded, just a little. But he defeated me. And thus, the Spider of Calamity vanished from this world.”

“Then he already had that ridiculous strength from the very beginning? Without relying on the Goddess’s power at all?”

“Who can say? I don’t remember much from my time as a spider. But later, out of curiosity, I looked into it…”

Hibiki stared at Mio as comprehension came to her.

“The day I first met Young Master appears to have been within days of the battle you and the others fought. From what I can tell, the gap between you and him has been widening ever since. And it continues to widen even now. That fact is something you should think about very carefully.”

The difference between what she had been then and what Makoto had been even earlier hit Hibiki like a fist to the stomach.

“Of course,” Mio added, smiling, “while we remain in this country.”

With that, just as she had arrived, Mio melted into the darkness and was gone.

Hibiki was left behind, unable to move.

The gap is still widening.

Only those words remained, spinning, spiraling, echoing inside her until they drowned out everything else.

※※※

“Hmmm…”

In my room, I kept opening and closing the hand Mio had healed, turning the sensation over in my head like a pebble I couldn’t stop worrying at.

Right on cue, Lime came back from somewhere, pausing in the doorway as if he’d walked in on a crime scene.

“Huh? Somethin’ up, boss?”

“Hey, Lime.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you attack me?”

“Excuse me?”

Lime’s face did exactly what I expected it to: blank first, then loudly confused.

“No, listen. Last night, I sparred with Hibiki-senpai. Or had a friendly match, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

“Honestly, I’d already seen how she fights at Maylis Lake, so most of it was about what I expected.”

“But?” Lime prodded, eyeing me warily.

“But every now and then, she felt stronger than she should’ve been. Like, weirdly stronger.”

I flexed my fingers again, watching the skin move as if it could explain itself.

“I didn’t do anything special on defense. So, I’m pretty sure she did something. The problem is, I don’t actually know what my defense is at right now. Not precisely.”

“You’re tellin’ me that whole thing wasn’t even you tryin’ to defend?” Lime muttered. He sounded genuinely offended on Hibiki’s behalf.

“Which brings us back to my first request. I figured if I take one clean hit from you, I could get a better feel for it. So, uh, one shot. Please.”

“R-right here?!” Lime yelped. “In the room?!”

“Yep.”

If I got hurt, I could wait for Mio. And if it was a light wound, Lime could heal it himself. No need to go outside and attract attention like we were staging some kind of assassination attempt.

Lime wrestled with it for a moment, then seemed to realize I wasn’t going to let this go. With a long, resigned sigh, he reached for his beloved blade.

“You’re seriously sayin’ no holdin’ back?” he asked. “I still don’t think I’ll hit you as hard as Hibiki did, but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “And honestly, if we’re talking gear, yours is better than hers, right? If anything goes wrong, I’ll have Mio come over. Just hit me as hard as you can. Don’t think. Don’t hesitate.”

“You’re sure Mio-neesan’s gonna patch things up?”

“Of course. I’m not gonna ask for it and then go, ‘Help meee!’ afterward.”

“All right,” Lime said, voice going flat with grim acceptance. “Then, sorry in advance.”

He drew.

The steel slid free with a clean, hungry sound.

Dropping his center of gravity, Lime bent his knees and lowered his posture, holding the blade upright in his right hand: tip angled forward, ready to spear.

A thrust stance.

I remembered that posture. It was the same setup he used for one of his hardest-hitting techniques.

Even though I’d asked for this, I still felt a flicker of gratitude that he was taking it seriously. He was really putting everything into it.

I expanded my magic body and waited, the same way I had when I tested what it meant to “carry the image” all the way through my shot.

Lime didn’t move. But inside him, power began to pile up, layer by layer, like pressure building behind a sealed door.

Charge attacks were always a pain if you had to worry about time. But when the whole point was letting him charge, it really was one of the best tools in the box.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Lime didn’t answer.

Instead, mana began to leak from his body. It was thin and luminous, like heat shimmer given shape.

Still silent, he kicked off the floor.

Power traveled from his legs to his hips, from his hips to his shoulder, and finally poured into the blade. The amplified force condensed at the tip and drove straight toward my magic body.

But—

“!!!”

There was no high, ringing clash.

No impact loud enough to rattle the room.

Lime’s blade simply stopped, hanging in the air just a short distance in front of me, like it’d hit an invisible wall made of stubborn reality.

Yeah. Even Lime at full power can’t cut through that—

But then Lime pushed further.

His right hand slipped off the hilt for an instant, and his left palm pressed hard against the pommel, as if he were driving a stake.

A surge of mana flooded from his left hand into the sword, and with it came an additional shove.

A charge technique with a second stage.

That’s honestly kind of awesome.

And still, my magic body didn’t collapse.

“Ah.”

“Geh.”

The sounds came from both of our mouths a fraction of a second apart. I’m pretty sure we meant the same thing.

The next instant, Lime’s sword trembled, and the blade shattered into glittering fragments.

Oops. It couldn’t withstand the pressure between my defense and Lime’s output.

“Sorry, Lime,” I said quickly.

“Nah,” he replied, exhaling through his nose. “While I’m escortin’ you in Limia, I probably won’t need to use this thing anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

“How long does it take to regenerate?”

“If things’re goin’ well, about half a day. This time, I’ll play it safe and assume a full day. If anything happens today, I've got a spare sword.”

As he spoke, he pointed to one of the rings on his hand.

Right, he’d mentioned he had a lot of tricks built in. If I remembered correctly, that particular ring could transform into a blade.

The reason neither of us looked devastated was simple: Lime’s cherished sword regenerated even if it snapped or shattered. As long as the hilt remained, the recovery was fast.

I didn’t know the exact timing, but if it came back within a day, even at the slow end, that was impressively quick.

“Still,” I muttered, “Hibiki-senpai was breaking through my defense with a sword that’s worse than yours. And she made it look kind of easy. Any idea why?”

“I don’t really know,” Lime admitted, shaking his head. “Hibiki’s been focusin’ on ranged slashes as her main project for a while now, but as for raw power, nothin’ comes to mind beyond the usual. When I was travelin’ with her, I never saw her do any especially strange training either.”

“So, a blessing from the Goddess, maybe.”

“That silver sash looks like somethin’ the Goddess gave ‘er. She said the way she uses it is her own, though.”

“Her own. You mean that exposure setup?”

I’d seen it enough times that I was starting to get used to it, but still.

It was a lot.

Hibiki’s willingness to accept it as “worth it” for greater combat power was impressive, and the actual boost it gave her was no joke. But if we were talking about what was most impressive?

Yeah.

The visuals were winning by a landslide.

“Honestly,” Lime said, “respondin’ to that speed is rough. Some idiot adventurers like to run their mouths and say, ‘If you’re never gettin’ hit, armor doesn’t matter.’ But with her? That nonsense starts lookin’ achievable.”

“Hm? So, in that mode, her defense isn’t that great?”

“No, it’s not that. Even with that speed, Hibiki gets how important defense is. Apparently, that form actually has higher defense than normal. It’s just that she’s been losin’ to people whose whole thing is big attack power, so lately she’s been talkin’ about compressin’ the field-like defensive area that covers her body—strengthenin’ it into somethin’ denser.”

“So, instead of blocking attacks with a wide surface, she wants to stop them with a reinforced point,” I said. The idea was finally clicking into place. “That’s the opposite of me. I’m basically always defending with a ‘surface’ by default.”

A pinpoint barrier.

Harder, probably; way harder than what I was doing.

Sure, one point would get stronger, but controlling that point manually meant everything else became paper-thin.

That wasn’t just specialized; it was spiky.

“Ah, what are you doing, Lime?”

Mio was back.

“Eep!” Lime squeaked like a man who’d just watched the guillotine descend.

“Oh, welcome back, Mio,” I said, doing my best to sound normal.

“I apologize for leaving your side for errands,” Mio replied sweetly. Her eyes slid to Lime. “Now then. Lime. What did you say you were doing?”

“Th-this is—”

“Explanations can wait,” Mio said, cutting him off. “I will calm myself first.”

Her smile sharpened.

“Come here.”

“Y-you’re calmin’ down, right?” Lime tried, voice climbing into panic. “If you’re calmin’ down, then… I don’t think you need me for—”

“What are you even saying?” Mio shook her head as if he were speaking gibberish. “If I am to settle my feelings, it cannot even begin without you.”

Um, Mio, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who isn’t making sense.

She was radiating pure negative energy, and Lime’s fear looked entirely justified.

“Boss?!” Lime squeaked.

“It’s fine, Lime,” Mio said. “I’ll heal you properly. I’ll put you back exactly the way you were.”

“Heal?!”

Mio strode over with sharp, angry footsteps and seized Lime’s hand with her slender arm. It looked like he could yank free, but in reality, her grip was terrifyingly strong.

No, that’s not the point.

I said I’d back him up. I couldn’t just stand here and let that promise turn into a lie. Besides, if Mio needed to vent her rage, I’d rather she did it on me.

“Mio. That’s enough,” I said firmly. “Lime was helping me with a test. I asked him to. So, it’s fine.”

“A test?” Mio’s body went still, although she maintained her death grip on Lime’s hand. And of course, Lime still looked like a man staring down an executioner. Pure survival instinct.

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “In fact, I would like you to help, too. Hmm. Could you hit me once with that pride-and-joy Zantetsu Fan of yours?”

That fan. The slashes she launched from it.

She always went, “Ah, and here I thought I’d cut something trivial again,” so I’d jokingly snapped, “What is that, a zantetsu fan?”

Apparently, she’d liked the name, because it stuck.

“You want me to use Zantetsu… on you, Young Master?”

“Yeah, something in my spar with Hibiki-senpai has been bothering me. So, please.”

“With Hibiki,” Mio repeated, as if trying to understand. “Very well. If that’s the reason, I accept.”

Finally, she released Lime.

I’d expected it to take more persuasion, but lately Mio had become oddly cooperative the moment Hibiki’s name came up.

“Then, here I go!”

With no hesitation, Mio raised the closed fan toward me—

With careful adjustments to how much power she put into each strike, she sent slash after slash at my magic body.

I received them head-on.

Again.

Again.

Until, at last, the construct was cut clean through.

“Thanks, Mio,” I said.

“Is that all you needed?” she asked.

“Yeah. Now I know Hibiki-senpai’s sword is around this level in terms of power.”

“The attack that left a wound on you during the mock battle,” Mio said, her voice sharper than usual.

“That strike, too, but it wasn’t just that,” I replied. “Her attacks overall were weirdly strong. And the one you used at the end just now—Mio, you were pretty serious, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t even at eighty percent,” Mio declared at once. “I wasn’t serious at all!”

Sure. Whatever you say.

Even if it was only seventy-something percent, it was still more than enough for my purposes. If Hibiki pushed into that range, it’d go the same way it did during the mock battle.

As a test, it was plenty.

“Still,” I muttered, “it’s not just her speed. It’s that high attack power; there’s something there. Next time I spar with her, I should reinforce myself a bit more. Otherwise, I might actually get hurt.”

“Back when she was struggling in the Wasteland, Hibiki didn’t have anything like that,” Mio said, thoughtful now. “She had good instincts and broad awareness, yes. But nothing resembling a special boost to her attack power. If I recall correctly, Shiki said that when she went to Limia with you, Hibiki suddenly started firing off unusually powerful attacks right after her confinement barrier was broken. When you get back, you should ask Shiki about it.”

“Ah.” I frowned as the memory clicked into place. “When the barrier that trapped her broke? I see.”

A new awakening from the Goddess’s power?

That sure sounded like a “Hero event.”

I hadn’t seen any sign of her using a specific spell to buff her damage. It could also be an ability with a stealthy activation form, like my Realm, something that didn’t announce itself.

If that was the case, I probably shouldn’t underestimate it.

“And yet,” Mio muttered, her face scrunching up as if she was eating something unpleasant, “she truly possessed that kind of attack power. And still she had the nerve to consult us about a new weapon.”

“Mio?” I tilted my head. “Something wrong?”

“N-no! It’s nothing at all!!!”

“Right.”

OK, let’s not poke that hornet’s nest. Change the subject.

“Speaking of which,” I said, “what was that errand you went on? You were just meeting a few nobles and merchants this afternoon, right? Were you with Hibiki-senpai?”

Mio and Hibiki-senpai…

Given what happened at Rotsgard, the pairing did make me uneasy, but I’d also heard they’d been in a temporary mentor–student relationship back in Tsige. So, it probably wasn’t something I needed to panic over.

“Just a bit of idle talk,” Mio replied smoothly. “About the time those people were in Tsige. Oh! Also, Hibiki said she’ll likely be able to speak with the shrine maiden soon.”

“Chiya?” I blinked. “That’s good news. I wanted to see her at least once before we leave.”

“Yes,” Mio said with a nod. “I believe you will have the chance.”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious what Chiya had seen when she looked at Mio and me. No guarantee she’d tell me, of course, but at least I could ask.

Of course, I had no intention of pressuring a young girl into anything. Maybe after dinner, I could ask Hibiki-senpai if she’d spare some time to ask.

All right. Around now, the attendants should be coming to fetch me.

Time for my favorite part of meetings with nobles:

We’ll take this back to the company and provide a formal response at a later date.

Because there was no way I planned to reach any real conclusion here. If they could just take the hint and go home, that would be great.

Wow, I still haven’t even had a proper chance to walk around the city.

I haven’t seen the capital at all.

What a waste.

Chapter 8

“Permission for the Kuzunoha Company to run itinerant trade across the territories?”

“Yes,” Prince Joshua said, his tone even as he answered Hibiki’s surprise. “Not only I, but His Majesty as well, owe Raidou our lives from Rotsgard. We summoned him to offer thanks. There was no world where we could do nothing. And since Raidou has already submitted a request of his own, and it isn’t a matter that requires major political adjustments, I’ve given him a favorable answer.”

“I see.”

Hibiki nodded slowly, her expression turning thoughtful.

Belda was in the room with them, as he’d often been lately, but he still hadn’t joined the conversation. Though he carried the face of royalty as Joshua did, he was choosing to remain here as a member of Hibiki’s party—quiet, watchful, letting her take point.

“Do you see a problem with it?” Joshua asked. “Some nobles who wanted him to establish permanent storefronts may be displeased, but as far as the Crown’s concerned, there should be no disadvantage.”

“No,” Hibiki agreed. “I believe Your Highness is correct. If that’s what he asked for, then granting it as thanks is appropriate.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Joshua said with a smile. “Though, honestly, the fact that Raidou is only asking for that is what troubles me. If he demanded a title, or even land, my conscience would feel lighter.”

“He probably thinks he’s already been compensated enough,” Hibiki replied.

“Surely not,” Joshua said, genuine disbelief slipping into his voice. “A man saves the king and prince of a major kingdom, is invited into the capital, and he considers that sufficient? No one thinks like that.”

Hibiki’s eyes lowered as a faint shadow passed over her face.

“He might. That’s the kind of boy he is.”

Joshua paused, weighing her words carefully.

“I did feel that Raidou has a kind of gentleness not befitting a merchant,” he admitted. “But he can’t be without desire. If only for the sake of appearances, I’d like to reward him more properly. Leaving behind a strange knot of resentment would be unwise.”

Joshua had chosen his words carefully, but Hibiki restated them in blunt, unvarnished terms.

“You want to say it’s naïve. I know it’s not something you should say about a benefactor, but you’re right.”

“I would prefer you not to phrase it that way,” Joshua chided gently—yet there was no hostility between them.

Belda remained silent, sipping his tea.

This was simply how the two of them always were.

“Joshua-sama,” Hibiki continued, “how do you intend to deal with them going forward?”

Her question had nothing to do with Joshua’s personal opinion. Hibiki was checking the will of the royal family, especially the king.

Joshua was the king’s right hand. Often, Joshua’s view was the king’s view.

“He himself has not a shred of malice,” Joshua said. “The company’s power, not to mention the abilities of its members, could certainly become a threat. But fundamentally, we wish to maintain a good relationship. It’s obvious they’re not mere merchants. In fact, Mio-dono’s contribution to reconstruction in half a day was remarkable. I’d heard they helped rebuild Rotsgard as well, but at that level, they weren’t just ‘helpers.’ They must have done far more than the reports suggested. If I’d only read the documents, I might have overlooked it.”

“Rotsgard has already reclaimed its former vitality and is moving beyond it,” Hibiki said, but there was a hint of bitterness in her voice. “Sadly, the speed of the capital’s recovery is nowhere near comparable. There’s no question that the Kuzunoha Company played a major role in Rotsgard. Judging by merit alone, they’re an incredibly attractive ally, but…” She trailed off, her expression tightening with visible anguish.

“So, there is a problem,” Joshua said quietly. “To me, they look like an extremely beneficial partner. What is it you see in him, Hibiki?”

“I can’t put all of it into clean words yet,” Hibiki admitted. “But I can name a few things.”

More than anything, Hibiki was worried about Joshua’s goodwill toward him.

Since the moment they’d met face to face, the prince had shown unmistakable fondness for both the Kuzunoha Company and its representative, Makoto. For Hibiki, this was one of the more unexpected developments.

“That’s fine,” Joshua said. “Tell me.”

“First,” Hibiki said, “he has no interest in the war happening in this world. And despite being the head of an organization large enough to require a strategic, high-level view, he doesn’t seem to possess anything beyond a personal perspective.”

She held Joshua’s gaze steadily as she continued.

“He’s extremely unstable. Too dangerous for the Kingdom to keep inside its borders.”

“Kuzunoha,” Joshua murmured, folding his hands lightly. “Even if there are only a few more fighters on Mio-dono’s level, once you factor in Raidou-dono himself, you could argue they possess a military force that surpasses not just an ordinary mercenary band, but an entire nation. I agree that an organization with that kind of power ought to be thinking on a national scale. But ‘no interest in the war.’ What do you mean by that? And ‘unstable’ still isn’t quite landing for me.”

“I mean exactly what I said,” Hibiki replied. “He gives the impression that he genuinely doesn’t care how much hyumans and demi-humans—or demons—fight one another. And he has no prejudice against demi-humans. If someone came to him desperate and asked for help, I think he’d sell supplies to demons, too.”

“That’s absurd!” Belda cut in for the first time. “That would be a betrayal of hyumanity!”

“Sell to demons,” Joshua repeated, a crease forming between his brows. “He didn’t strike me as someone so shameless.”

“That isn’t what I mean,” Hibiki said, shaking her head. “I’m not saying he’s unscrupulous in pursuit of profit. If anything, I think he’s lax about those boundaries. The point is the reason. ‘Because they’re suffering’ would matter more to him than anything else.”

Joshua’s eyes narrowed; he seemed to be testing the shape of the idea. “So, if a demon village couldn’t secure enough food to survive the winter and begged for aid, you’re saying you think he would help them? Even if repayment was doubtful, or impossible?”

“Yes,” Hibiki said without hesitation. “And if a demi-human village made the same request, I think he’d make the same choice.”

“And even if the result is the war dragging on and on and more lives being lost and the entire world bleeding itself dry?”

“He’s kind,” Hibiki answered, the words coming out with a softness that didn’t match the heaviness in her eyes. “If the ones suffering are hyumans, he’ll help. If they’re demons, he’ll help. Demi-humans wounded by hyumans, hyumans wounded by demi-humans…”

Her mouth curved into a complicated smile.

“He won’t distinguish between them.”

“I see.” Joshua’s voice lowered. “It’s true; Raidou-dono did seem like the sort to prioritize helping someone over profit. If demons exist within the category of ‘people worth saving’ on the same level as hyumans in his mind, then the Kuzunoha Company becomes a very troublesome organization indeed.”

“Yes,” Hibiki said. “For both hyumans and demons, they would be extremely harmful.”

“It’s difficult to accept at face value,” Joshua admitted. “But if it’s your assessment, then it’s worth considering. For them to help the demons as much as they help us, that would be intolerable. However…”

His gaze shifted, thoughts moving quickly, weighing what could be done now and what could not.

“… Even if that’s the case, our immediate response can’t change.” His eyes narrowed as he looked back at Hibiki. “I understand now. That’s what you’re struggling with.”

“Yes.” Hibiki’s expression tightened. “No matter what we think of them, for the time being, we must maintain a friendly posture. If they’re a source of benefit in every direction, we can’t avoid dealing with them.”

If they could profit, they had no choice but to engage. Even if the same profit might flow to their enemy.

“Fufufu. Yes,” Joshua laughed. “There’s no reason for only us to renounce that benefit. In fact, even on this very visit, we’ve made extensive use of them. And after that, to speak of them as a threat… How unlucky for them.”

He knew that there were, in fact, several secondary objectives behind inviting the Kuzunoha Company to the capital—objectives they hadn’t told the company itself about.

“I’ll try to persuade him,” Hibiki promised. “If he chose our side, then most of the kingdom’s major problems would be solved.”

“Your face tells me you don’t think it will go well,” Joshua said.

“Honestly, I’m not confident,” Hibiki admitted. “Our values are… very different now. I don’t know if he’ll understand.”

“I hope you succeed,” Joshua said quietly. “I would like to remain on good terms with him as well.”

“I agree, from the bottom of my heart,” Hibiki said. “He’s the last person I want to end up in conflict with.”

“The last person you want to end up in conflict with,” Joshua repeated, weighing the phrase. “Very well. For now, I’ll leave the judgment regarding Raidou to you. Then, Hibiki, can we proceed as planned with the arrangements we discussed?”

“Yes,” Hibiki said. “Mio-san pressed me a little, but it’s fine. Let’s push forward all at once.”

“Understood.”

With that, Hibiki rose from her seat.

Joshua stood a breath later, seeing her off.

On instinct, Belda started to follow her out, but a voice stopped him from behind.

“I still have something to discuss with you, Brother. Please remain.”

“Haehh?”

The shift from the usual pattern was so abrupt that Belda let out an embarrassingly dumb sound.

He’d been thinking of himself as little more than Hibiki’s escort, and he hadn’t expected to be singled out.

Sure, he’d sat in on Joshua and Hibiki’s conversations before, but Joshua had never once stopped him from leaving.

“Oh.” Hibiki didn’t even look back. “Then I’ll be going ahead.”

“H-Hibiki?!”

Right in front of Belda, the door shut with merciless finality.

“Tch.” Belda clicked his tongue, then slumped back down into the chair. With Hibiki gone, his voice returned to the blunt tone he used with family. “What is it, Joshua?”

“Brother,” Joshua said calmly, “I’ve arranged meetings like this many times. Yet you’ve never once participated properly.”

“I’m here as a knight,” Belda answered quickly. “As Hibiki’s guard. It’s not my place to butt in with opinions in the first place.”

“Until now, Father’s will has allowed me to overlook your attitude. But with the capital in this state, I can’t let this continue.”

Belda’s face twisted, already tired. “Listen, Joshua—”

Joshua cut him off, unwavering.

“Isn’t it time you started thinking about the Kingdom’s governance? Not as a knight. Not as Hibiki’s party member. Not even as her shield. As Father’s successor. As the next king.”

“That again.” Belda sighed hard. “I’ve already decided. I’ll live as a knight; as Hibiki’s shield. If you want the throne, take it. No one’s going to oppose you if you inherit, Joshua.”

“I don’t have the talent to be king. We’re at war. The role demanded of Limia’s king right now is to inspire the whole nation, to lift it. The one most suited for that is you, Brother. Besides, I already renounced my right of succession.”

“Then take it back. I’m sure they’ll give it back to you. And anyway, whether I sit on the throne as a decoration while you do the real work, or you sit there yourself, what’s the difference? I’m not letting people hoist me up just because I’m the perfect ornament.”

“Renouncing succession isn’t some light thing. And if you’re truly suited to be lifted as an ornament, then in a sense you already possess the talent of a king.”

“I said no. I want to be useful to Hib—”

He tried to end it with his usual line, the same speech he always used to shut this conversation down.

Unfortunately, today, everything was different. When Joshua cut him off, he was shouting.

“If you really believe that, why can’t you understand that the best way is to act as the next king?!”

His fist slammed into the table, the impact ringing across the room like a bell being struck.

“What did you just say?” Belda asked, his eyes growing sharp.

“Just look at Hibiki now. You can see it,” Joshua said, breath heavy with restrained fury. “She’s already beyond anything an ordinary person can keep up with. Anyone who watched last night’s fight would understand. She’s—she’s not in your reach anymore.”

His voice rose again as the bitter truth forced its way out.

“There’s no longer any place in which Hibiki needs you as a shield. Nowhere. What can you even do as a party member? Guard the shrine maiden, perhaps. Protect Woody. That’s it!”

Joshua was no expert in combat, but she understood this clearly. The strength Hibiki displayed in that mock battle wasn’t merely “strong.”

It was outside the norm. Outside the axis.

Raidou was the same, of course, but there was no need to compare the two of them. Whether Belda’s hard-earned strength could function in that realm was a question that didn’t deserve to be asked.

“Joshua… you—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying you will inevitably become Hibiki’s shackle,” Joshua replied, gaze unflinching. “So, leave the party before that happens, and help her through politics instead!”

His jaw clenched.

“I’ll say it plainly, since you refuse to listen otherwise. The only thing ‘extraordinary’ about you is the circumstances of your birth. The royal blood in your veins.”

“Shut up!” Belda roared, heat surging into his face.

But Joshua was just getting started.

“For example, those three from Kuzunoha who are here right now. You wouldn’t defeat any of them. Not one. But if you become our king, then you can still become Hibiki’s strength. Exactly as you wish.”

“I said shut up!”

“I’m telling you, this is Father’s will!!!”

“?!”

Joshua’s words hit like a thrown stone.

His fury didn’t fade. If anything, it sharpened into something colder.

“This isn’t just my opinion. It’s not ‘I think so.’” His eyes locked on Belda. “If the capital’s attacked again, can anyone guarantee the king survives? If the king falls without a publicly declared successor, what then? Limia can’t afford to fracture over succession in its current state. Even you understand that. Father intends to present you as his successor. He’s decided it. At the very least, have the decency to notice your own father’s heart without making me say it out loud. For once, Brother.”

“I can still do it,” Belda insisted. “I’ll get stronger. I can still support—”

“I know you don’t shy away from effort. But Hibiki isn’t the only one. Chiya. Woody. Nabaal. They’re all people with rare, exceptional talent. You can’t follow them forever on effort alone.”

He paused, then softened just a fraction.

“Fortunately, the defensive swordsmanship you’ve honed will still matter in an emergency. It may save a life. Please be reasonable.”

Belda’s jaw worked, anger and fear colliding behind his eyes.

“Then what about a replacement?!” he snapped. “Yeah, maybe I’m not enough. But right now, who else is there by Hibiki’s side? Who else can cover her blind spots? If you’re really telling me I have to be king, then you’d better have someone ready to take my place first!”

“We do.”

“What?”

“I said there is someone. You probably won’t meet them until after the Kuzunoha Company people leave, but yes. They exist.”

Joshua’s words rang with a merciless finality. Belda could only stand there, stunned. This stubborn, iron-hard resolve in his brother’s face was something he had never seen before.

※※※

Night.

With the day’s obligations finally behind me, I was sprawled out in my room, enjoying the rare luxury of doing absolutely nothing.

Lime, polishing the sword he’d just finished regenerating, was talking enthusiastically about what he’d seen in the lower city. His mood was bright enough to make up for the stale air of the castle.

“So, the rebuilding’s still nowhere close, huh?” I said.

“Yeah,” Lime replied. “Rotsgard recovered way too fast. Set everyone’s expectations all wrong. And after Mio-neesan showed off what she can do, I wouldn’t be surprised if Prince Joshua comes around with some kind of request.”

“I don’t mind helping, within reason. If we can at least get the workflow organized before the Rotsgard teams arrive, it’ll make things a lot easier for everyone.”

“Within reason,” Lime echoed.

“All we can do is within reason. Besides, if the war flares up again, it’ll all get smashed back down anyway.”

“The demons, huh. They’re not the type to go, ‘Oh, it’s winter, we’ll hold off to be polite.’ But they’re not attacking either. Makes you wonder what they’re schemin’. If I were in their shoes, I’d want to crush a shaky Limia while it’s still wobblin’.”

Winter was a season the demons could defend easily while hyumans struggled to move, to supply, to push. But that didn’t mean winter made it hard for them to attack.

Having actually met them, I could say this with certainty: the Demon King wasn’t the type to soften his hand out of courtesy.

He would deliver a merciless finishing blow without flinching.

Which meant if they weren’t coming, it wasn’t because they couldn’t.

There was a reason.

That thought sat heavily on me. If the demons were holding their assault back, then maybe this waiting—the rebuilding, the “let’s just hang on until spring”—wasn’t recovery time for hyumans at all.

Maybe it was a countdown. Because somewhere out there, the demons were likely doing something more effective than simply invading Limia head-on.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “But if it comes to it, I’ll move, too. Worst-case scenario won’t happen.”

“The boss is gonna step in?” Lime asked. “You didn’t seem too interested in the war.”

“Hm? I’m not interested in the war. And I don’t plan on becoming interested. It’s just that I don’t think the demons would go out of their way to hassle ordinary merchants or adventurers. So, whoever ends up holding power, I don’t think our day-to-day lives will change that much.”

“Havin’ decent relations with the demons sure leaves a weird taste in the mouth. But then, when you say you’ll ‘move,’ what do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ll at least help Hibiki-senpai. This country? I’m not promising anything that big.”

“That’s you all right, huh. Wait, someone’s comin’. I think it’s Hibiki. Kinda rare this late at night…”

“Hibiki-senpai? If she needs something, it’ll probably be me.”

“Yeah. And if it’s you and Hibiki meetin’ at night, nothin’s gonna happen. Probably some unsexy conversation, if I had to guess.”

“You’ve got a mouth. I’m one thing, but Hibiki-senpai was ridiculously popular back in Japan, you know?”

“Sure.” Lime’s grin turned sly. “On the surface, she looks like she knows how to handle men, but—well. She’s like you, Boss. She doesn’t go runnin’ headfirst into that kind of mess.”

“Like me?”

Lime just gave me a cocky little smile.

“Heh. Just the nonsense I used to hear from guys who played around. Don’t mind it.”

What’s that supposed to mean? It’s not like Hibiki-senpai, and I have that many overlaps.

A moment later, there was a knock at the door.

“It’s Hibiki,” came the voice. “May I come in for a moment?”

Nailed it as always, Lime.

“Come in!” I answered.

“Oh. Lime, you’re here, too.” Hibiki-senpai’s gaze flicked to him, then back to me. “Could you give us a—no, actually, Raidou-dono. Would you come with me? This might take a bit.”

I wonder what she wants? At this hour, it’s definitely not about visiting Chiya.

“Sure,” I agreed. “Lime, I’ll be back later. Feel free to turn in early if you want.”

“Much obliged,” Lime replied, bowing politely.

His mouth was smiling, but his eyes weren’t.

Did Tomoe tell him to be wary of Hibiki-senpai or something?

Still, I didn’t have any information on Hibiki that would be a disaster if someone overheard. If he wanted to worry, that was his choice.

“All right,” I said, rising. “Let’s go.”

“Yes.”

Hibiki-senpai was acting normal, but tension bled from the corners of her body like a fine mist. I could already tell this wasn’t going to be a casual topic.

From my perspective, things in Limia had actually been going pretty well. Lyca had been surprisingly serious for a greater dragon, but she’d opened up her library, sent us back herself, and overall acted downright generous. We’d even gotten approval for the Forest Ogre–led trading caravan.

If we could just head home without incident after this, that would be perfect.

Of course, life didn’t let things tie up that neatly.

Oh, yeah. Depending on what she says, maybe I should bring up the return ritual I saw at Lyca’s.

Information about a way back to our original world was important.

Yeah. That’s not a bad idea at all.

The silence between us, as we walked, gave me just enough space to sort my thoughts into shape. Eventually, Hibiki stopped and turned to face me.

We’d come to a scenic corridor connecting the castle to one of the spires a short distance away.

Side by side, we could see the entire city below.

Chapter 9

“What do you think of Limia?”

It was the kind of vague question Senpai liked.

“It’s a big country,” I answered. “Maybe a great power in this world?”

If she’d asked something more specific, I might’ve given a different reply. But as far as first impressions went, that was what came to mind.

There were plenty of bad ones (nobles throwing their weight around, that sort of thing), but when it came to positives, “it’s big” was about all I had.

“Mm-hm. A great power,” Hibiki echoed with a soft, playful laugh. “You’re not wrong. But the truth is, it’s also very different from the kind of ‘great power’ you and I imagine. It’s a surprisingly slapdash country, too.”

“Slapdash?”

A great power running on “slapdash” didn’t make any sense. The more people you had living under one flag, the more you needed solid institutions to manage them. Without that, how did a nation even hold together?

“For example, population,” Hibiki said. “How many people do you think Limia has?”

P-Population?

That was a topic I hadn’t even thought about since coming to this world.

“It’s a huge landmass,” I said, thinking quickly. “So, tens of millions? Maybe even hundreds of millions?”

“The correct answer is: we don’t know.”

“Huh?”

That was such a cheat it almost made me laugh. We don’t know? How was that an answer?

“In this world, almost no country has a proper grasp of its population. Limia included,” Senpai said matter-of-factly. “As far as I know, the only place that did was Tsige. And even then, the people who had the data weren’t government officials. It was a single trading company.”

Seriously?

A single trading company? Well, there was only one outfit that fit the description.

Does Rembrandt even have a handle on the population boom now, I wonder?

“That sounds difficult,” I admitted. “Probably.”

Tracking people. A resident registry, or maybe more like a family register.

Wait. Japan had something like that going back a long way, didn’t it? Which meant it wasn’t some impossible achievement, unless you were living through an era so chaotic that records burned and even memory broke.

If we’re talking that level of collapse, Japan had the Ōnin War. But things weren’t that kind of chaos here.

So, if I followed that logic, it didn’t feel strange to think Limia could’ve built a registry system, too.

“It’s not that they can’t,” Senpai said, as if she’d read the thought off my face. “They simply don’t want to. They don’t see the point. Lords report the year’s harvest, and taxes are decided from that. In a system like that, there’s very little reason for the kingdom to bother managing population.”

“O-Oh.”

So, taxes were tied to land output, not people. If that were the case, the crown could dump the details on the nobility and call it governance.

It felt like passing the buck, but if money reliably flowed into the treasury every year, I could see why no one bothered fixing what “worked.”

“But if a nation wants to grow stronger, it can’t ignore problems like this,” Senpai continued. “My estimate is that Limia has between fifty and seventy million people. Yet the taxes that actually reach the royal coffers amount to only about half of what they should.”

“Half,” I echoed, shaking my head. “So, the rest is being… seized?”

Limia was practically synonymous with nobles abusing their power. The fact that the country functioned at all with that kind of rot meant it had to be obscenely wealthy, blessed with ridiculous advantages.

That’s insane.

“Yes,” Senpai said. “And I’m sorry to tell you after the fact, but I’ve had you help me with efforts to improve that situation.”

“Me? Have I… done anything?”

She didn’t answer the question. She only smiled—lightly, warmly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You helped more than you know,” she said. “Thank you.”

“I don’t really feel like I did anything,” I admitted. “But if I was useful, then I’m glad. Still, Hibiki-senpai, are you involved in things like reforms?”

Tax revenue reform sounded like something that went straight to the heart of how a kingdom functioned.

“Improvement is Japan’s specialty,” Senpai said. “Just because we’re in another world doesn’t mean it can’t be done here, right? I only used population as an example. There are so many things in this world that could be changed for the better.”

That’s overselling it a bit, Senpai. Improvement isn’t exactly a Japanese monopoly; every country on Earth works on that sort of thing.

“Well, I suppose some of it could be applied,” I said carefully. “But you’re awfully invested in this country, aren’t you? I mean, it’s wealthy, but you know how rotten it is on the inside, don’t you?”

“This is the country that summoned me.”

“I know.”

“It’s the country with the most people I know, and the most people who know me. A country that carries the hopes entrusted to it by so many. Isn’t it only natural that I’d care about it?”

“I’m sorry.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Somehow, it felt like I’d been scolded.

At the same time, I thought I might know how she felt. I treasured my Demiplane, too. Maybe it wasn’t all that different.

Unlike the Demiplane, though, Limia was connected to other nations by land. If it had enemies, they could march straight in.

“I want you to come to like this country as well,” Senpai said softly. “Is that too much to ask?”

Her eyes sharpened then, the light in them turning unmistakably serious.

“Makoto-kun. This world is very different from the one you came from. Even ‘common sense’ here is alien. There are things you won’t be able to accept. Things that feel unfair.

“I know you don’t hold warm feelings toward the Goddess. I won’t ask you to throw those away. But to bring this long war to an end, won’t you lend me your strength? I’m not asking you to fight. Just supply materials at fair prices. That alone would be enough.”

So, Kuzunoha supplying Limia with goods.

Helping Hibiki was one thing. But cooperating to end a war, even if only through logistics, meant declaring where I stood.

It meant saying, I’m on the hyuman side.

In other words, it was no different from participating in the war indirectly.

Yeah. There was only one answer.

“So?” she asked quietly.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” I said. “If it’s just a personal request from you, like selling a reasonable amount of goods in moderation, I don’t mind. But that’s as far as I can go.”

“I see. So, you won’t cooperate for the sake of ending the war.”

Ah. Yeah. For the sake of ending the war.

I understood why Senpai worded it that way.

Was I already suspected of having ties with the demons?

There probably wasn’t any solid proof. I doubted I’d be accused of a crime outright, but still.

“The Kuzunoha Company wants to keep its doors open to everyone who needs us,” I said carefully. “Please let us keep helping in that way by maintaining a neutral stance.”

“Listen, Makoto-kun,” Senpai said, her tone softening. “I don’t believe that everything the Goddess does is right, either.”

“What?!”

Senpai?!

No, wait, isn’t that something a Hero absolutely should not be saying?!

“She isn’t what we usually imagine when we say ‘god,’” Hibiki continued. “She has a clear personality. An ego. I’ve never heard of any other gods existing in this world, so she’s probably a true monotheistic deity. But she’s far removed from the idea of an omnipotent being.”

Exactly. There was no way that thing deserved to be called a god.

What Hibiki was describing was probably closer to a heavenly deity. Something like the abstract, distant, and truly omnipotent gods people imagined.

I’d never met one like that either.

One thing I was sure of was that letting that garbage Goddess continue doing whatever she pleased couldn’t possibly be right.

“A being that manages and watches over the world,” Senpai said thoughtfully. “If gods truly exist, they’re probably meant to do that sort of work. To be honest, I think there are… problems with her, as a goddess.”

“Senpai…”

“But Makoto-kun. No matter what kind of being she is, she lives in a completely different realm from us. In that sense, she’s irrelevant. The night I met her was the first time. I didn’t even believe in gods before that. To us, she’s nothing more than that. A being we brushed against for only an instant in our short lives.”

I stared at her, trying to wrap my mind around what she was saying.

“So, why cling to negative feelings toward something like that?” Senpai asked. “It’s no different from resenting the natural laws of the world or the phenomena that exist within it. Isn’t that rather meaningless?”

“Hibiki-senpai, why did you—”

As I listened to her speak so earnestly, a question that had been lodged deep inside me for a long time slipped out before I could stop it.

“Hm?”

“Why did you come to this world? Back there, you had a life that was practically guaranteed to succeed. You were already winning.”

I truly don’t understand.

“You want to know why I came here?”

“Yes.”

“Why did someone completely unrelated, someone who probably never should have been given the chance in the first place, end up in this world? Does that bother you?”

“!”

She knows?

Does she know that because of me and my parents, two people ended up being given the chance to be summoned as Heroes?

“Because it sounded interesting,” she said simply.

“Inter—what?”

She smiled faintly.

“I won’t say I have no desire to get my old life in Japan back. But at that moment, I genuinely felt that another world was more appealing. That’s why I’m here. In the end, I think that fleeting feeling I had back then is the entirety of my reason. Since then, I’ve formed more and more connections in this world. Now, I can’t just leave so easily.”

“A fleeting feeling?”

So, she wasn’t planning to go back to Japan anymore.

She’d said before that she wasn’t completely without longing. But today, there wasn’t the slightest trace of homesickness on her face.

“Tomoki-kun’s probably the same,” Senpai went on. “If the Goddess had spoken to him on a different day, his answer might have been different, too. There was a possibility that a different Hero would’ve been summoned instead. A possibility where he and I would still be living peaceful lives in Japan. In theory, at least.”

Yeah.

That’s right.

On that day, during a single, unrepeatable moment, the two of them had decided to become Heroes.

A decision is still a decision. But if you asked whether it was the result of long, careful deliberation?

No. It wasn’t.

“Don’t make that face,” Hibiki said gently. “I’m not blaming you. Let me finish what I was saying earlier. To the world, divine interference isn’t absolute. Nor is it unavoidable. From here on, the world will keep changing. If we can end the war quickly and calm the conflict between hyumans and demons, that just means we’ll have more time to change the world itself. Can’t you see it that way?”

“Change the world?”

“Yes. Not right away, of course. But I think we can build a path toward a society where hyumans stop looking down on demi-humans. A society where everyone cooperates instead.”

Reforming the very way hyumans think?

Since that mindset was rooted in the Goddess’s teachings, it felt impossible.

Even the doctrine of the spirits, which was far gentler than the Goddess’s religion, still preached that demi-humans were inferior to hyumans.

“Isn’t that a bit too idealistic, even for a Hero?” I asked. “The religion most hyumans follow outright denies a society like that, doesn’t it? And hyumans make up the overwhelming majority of this world.”

“But you’ve already shown it can happen, Makoto-kun,” Hibiki replied, her voice calm and analytical. “In Rotsgard, and in Tsige. If it can happen there, it’s not impossible to make it happen across human society as a whole. I don’t believe the Goddess can forcibly ‘correct’ hyumans who choose to change of their own will.

“I’ve observed her actions for decades. She favors hyumans who are obedient and beautiful. That tendency is clear. But she hasn’t purged anyone simply for holding different beliefs. At least, not openly.”

So, Senpai was trying to change the Goddess’s world from the inside.

And yet, if that were the case, our views should have been close.

So, why did she feel so distant?

“Then, Senpai,” I said slowly. “That would mean the Goddess doesn’t have to exist in this world at all, right? Hypothetically. Even if another god came along and took her seat, that wouldn’t be a problem.”

The words slipped out on impulse. I couldn’t even picture what “another god” would look like. But if Hibiki thought that way, too, then maybe cooperation was possible.

If she truly wanted a society without discrimination against demi-humans, then even dialogue with the demons should be on the table.

“Even if the Goddess disappeared?” Senpai asked.

“I-It’s just a hypothetical,” I said quickly.

If I were to fight, win, and punish the Goddess…

If that happened, there was no way she’d continue managing the world the same way she always had. At best, the world would be left without a god for a while. At worst, an even more disagreeable deity would take her place.

“If that happened, and the world suffered no consequences at all,” Senpai said, “then I wouldn’t mind.”

“But?”

“The disappearance of the Goddess would also mean the disappearance of her attendants, the spirits. The world would lose its administrator. We don’t know what kind of effect that would have on magic power itself. Because that’s what forms the backbone of this world. On top of that, blessings and divine protections would vanish. Temples would lose their authority. And there’s even the risk that the Goddess’s teachings themselves would collapse and fade away.”

If I were being honest, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.

If the Goddess lost her power (or was destroyed outright), then as long as there were people I wanted to protect, I could just shelter them in the Demiplane ahead of time.

This world had existed before her, hadn’t it?

Figures like Luto had been around back then. I doubted the world would suddenly become uninhabitable. And the idea that magic and mana would be wiped out completely, along with her, felt unlikely.

Because of that, I’d never bothered thinking any deeper. But Hibiki clearly had.

“Even if the moment itself was peaceful,” she continued, “there’s an extremely high chance the world would plunge straight into chaos. A living hell. Especially the hyumans, who’ve acted as though they were the masters of this world thanks to the Goddess’s favor. Other races could very easily turn them into targets.”

“That does sound likely.”

No, more like practically guaranteed.

Without blessings, unless they possessed real strength, most hyumans would probably suffer badly.

If even the common language disappeared, things could devolve into a Tower of Babel situation. Utter disorder.

Large, unified nations like those that exist now wouldn’t be possible. There was a real chance the balance of power would shift entirely to another race.

“If you were to do it in a way that minimized the world’s upheaval as much as possible,” Hibiki said at last, “then I could accept it.”

“And if the kind of consequences you’re worried about really did happen?”

“Then I would resist. Even if it cost me my life. If someone were plotting something like that, they’d be no different from the demons. A terrorist against the world itself. An act driven by nothing but malice, one that mercilessly corners countless people living in peace and steals their lives. The ones who’d suffer the most would be hyumans, yes. But demi-humans wouldn’t escape it either. Everyone would be dragged in.”

“Terrorists? The demons are a different race, with their own nation. They’re a wartime enemy, aren’t they? Calling them terrorists in the context of a war feels a little biased.”

“Yes, terrorists. Originally, they were a small ethnic group. They shouldn’t have been able to stand toe-to-toe with us at all. If they raised complaints, suppressing them should have been enough. And yet, before anyone realized it, the situation escalated into a full-blown war. That’s probably why the Goddess panicked and summoned Heroes.”

“A small ethnic group…”

Then I remembered Demon King Zef’s words. He’d said that even at the most generous estimate, the demon population was only around one to one and a half million.

If Limia alone had tens of millions of people, and if the “Four Great Nations” were on the same scale as Limia, then the total hyuman population of the world was probably at least four times that.

If it’s fifty million per nation, then maybe around two hundred million?

Two hundred million versus one or at most two million.

Even if other demi-humans were counted alongside them, maybe the demon side reached a few tens of millions at most?

The demons were originally a mixed-race force by nature.

Then again, even that was probably a low estimate for hyumans.

Either way, if you looked at sheer numbers, Senpai wasn’t wrong. This felt less like a war between equals and more like a civil conflict.

In a world where quality often trumped quantity, the fact that the demons were holding their own was honestly impressive.

“At its core,” she continued, “the demons’ demands amount to a denial of the Goddess herself. Even if it stops short of outright revenge, it’s a call for better treatment. But that act is a rejection of the fundamental social order this world has lived under for thousands of years.”

“They might have gone extinct if they hadn’t done that,” I said quietly.

“You’re awfully sympathetic to the demons.”

“I read somewhere that the Goddess’s discrimination against them was extremely severe. If that’s true, then the demons’ actions were unavoidable, weren’t they? They were just trying to survive.”

“Yes. This uprising was probably inevitable for them. However—”

“Then—!”

“No, Makoto-kun. That’s exactly the point. It was already too late,” Hibiki said firmly. “They should have done something before being driven that far. They should have tried to improve their own circumstances, even a little, and make hyumans acknowledge them. And by means other than taking up arms and fighting.”

“That’s asking the impossible, isn’t it?”

Especially when the Goddess herself is the one shoving them aside.

“I’ve looked into the history between hyumans and demons,” Senpai continued. “Of course, the sources are hyuman records, so there’s bias. Even so, there are very few examples of demons acting friendly toward hyumans. And among those few, none lasted.”

“The history between hyumans and demons,” I repeated, realizing I only knew the rough outlines.

“To demons, hyumans are an overwhelming majority,” Hibiki explained. “And they’re unified under a single religion. On top of that, demons can’t match hyumans in individual combat ability. Choosing to fight them in the first place was irrational.”

“That’s true.”

With the Goddess’s blessings tipping the scales, the demons must have been losing ground in terms of mana and magic as well. It was a terrible matchup.

The more I thought about it, the more impressive it was that they’d managed to keep fighting at all.

They hadn’t been at war the entire time, of course. Mostly, they must have endured discrimination and oppression.

“Demons have fought hyumans again and again. Each time, they’ve lost. And yet, they never changed their approach.”

“…”

“They had opportunities. Many of them,” she went on. “Opportunities to integrate into hyuman society, just like other demi-humans.”

“What?”

“If it were me, that’s what I’d do. If the opponent is overwhelming, if your own strength can’t possibly match theirs, then you slip inside and change them from within. You create space for yourself, then assimilate. That’s one realistic way for a minority to survive, don’t you think?”

“So, you’re saying they should’ve lived as slaves among hyumans?”

Hibiki paused, but only for a moment. “Even starting from the slave class, it’s still possible to climb upward,” she said. “But they chose to keep holding swords. They never let them go. I have no intention of exterminating them, but unless they’re driven right up to the brink of it, no one will be satisfied. At the very least, those currently running their country, the military personnel, and anyone who supported them would all have to be—”

“And that ‘satisfaction’ is the result of the Goddess’s warped thinking, isn’t it?” I cut in.

If she hadn’t polluted the world with those idiotic doctrines, it never would’ve come to this.

The very fact that such a goddess existed was the core problem. Sooner or later, someone would have to confront her.

And if that meant the people living now would suffer a little in the process, then erasing the twisted ideology she spread across the world felt far more worthwhile.

“A warped doctrine, yes,” Senpai said. “But here, it’s a religion worshipped across the entire world. A small minority can’t change that by picking up weapons.”

“So, they’re supposed to swallow it, then?” I shot back. “Because the Goddess’s teachings can’t be changed, it’s only natural to cripple the demons beyond recovery? Since they didn’t hurry up and submit, didn’t choose to become slaves or whatever else to survive, it’s fine if they’re treated as less than that? That’s what you believe, Senpai?”

Anger simmered in my chest.

Anyone would complain if they were abused.

Anyone would want to resist if they were discriminated against for absurd reasons.

To demand that they always remain calm, always rationally assess the situation, always choose the optimal path for the long-term survival of their race, that wasn’t something just anyone could do.

And yet—

“Yes,” she said.

Senpai’s immediate answer left me at a loss for words. I’d expected hesitation. Even just a little.

“I told you before,” she continued evenly. “For both the demons and the hyumans, it’s too late. Unless someone brings this war to an end, neither race can move forward. That’s how much hatred has piled up between them. Even I’m no exception, and I fought on the fields of Limia.”

Her voice never wavered as she kept speaking.

“The Goddess’s teachings, reliance on her, discrimination against demi-humans, and every other problem you can name—addressing any of that begins after the war ends. That point alone is non-negotiable. No one can change it.”

“No one?”

Really?

If anyone could act as a bridge between both sides, wouldn’t it be the Kuzunoha Company?

No. Before even that, if I just went and made that bug reflect on herself, wouldn’t things change dramatically?

“No one,” Senpai repeated. “Not even a god. A hyuman who’s lost their family to demons grows up carrying that hatred, and one day becomes a blade turned against them. A demon who’s lost their family to hyumans is exactly the same. This chain of negative memories can never be erased.”

For just an instant, pain flickered across her face.

It stood out all the more because up until then she’d been speaking with a cold, composed expression. It reminded me of the frozen surface of a lake in winter. That fleeting crack lodged itself in my chest.

Memories can’t be erased, huh.

Rotsgard had become a far more livable place for demi-humans as a result of everything that happened there. But without a clear, undeniable crisis like the Mutant Incident, maybe the distortions hyumans accepted as “common sense” really couldn’t be fixed so easily.

The larger the population, the more deeply rooted those distortions became. The harder they were to correct.

“Hatred and grief,” I said quietly. “They don’t disappear so easily. I get that.”

Still.

I really do need to deal with the Goddess as soon as possible.

Senpai was worried about what came afterward, but as long as she continued to exist, the root of the problem would remain untouched.

That bug needed to be forced to change her ways.

“A tiny minority of demons waging war against an overwhelming majority of hyumans, as well as the Goddess herself,” Senpai said. “A mad war sparked by terrorists seeking a revolution that most of the world never asked for. I want it to end as soon as possible. Makoto-kun, I’ll say it one more time. Please, lend us your strength.”

She bowed deeply.

But my answer didn’t change.

“Senpai, I’ll say it again, too. I can’t do it.”

If anything, I felt she was being too realistic.

In a world already warped beyond recognition by the Goddess doing whatever she pleased, trying to change values slowly felt pointless. No matter how careful you were, it wouldn’t be enough.

“Let me be frank,” Senpai said as she raised her head. “The stance of the Kuzunoha Company could end up benefiting the demons as well. Supplying goods to both sides of a war—that’s what merchants of death do. Do you want this war to continue? Do you intend to profit from it?”

“No. If anything, I’d rather there wasn’t a war,” I replied. “But I still believe the root of everything is the Goddess. If she just corrected her way of thinking, even a little, there would be so many options we could pursue from there.”

“What do you mean? Even if the Goddess is the cause, what exactly are you planning to do?”

“The Kuzunoha Company will continue welcoming anyone who seeks us out; that hasn’t changed. But personally, I think the best solution might be to drag the Goddess down. Just once.”

“Drag the Goddess down…”

Senpai echoed the words faintly, then fell silent.

“Sure, the world might descend into chaos for a while,” I went on. “There might be limits on what magic can be used. Hyumans and demi-humans could even end up in a post-apocalyptic mess. Even so, knocking her off that throne she’s been arrogantly warming might actually be the fastest path forward.”

“And how,” Senpai asked slowly, “do you intend to do that?”

“Well, with force.”

“Force? And you’re saying the world falling into chaos is acceptable? She’s a god. Even if you somehow managed to overpower her, are you saying you could take her place?!”

“Overpower her?” I said. “I don’t know about that. And to begin with, I have no intention of replacing her.”

“Then what?” Senpai swayed slightly, clutching her head. “You’d simply destroy a god?”

No, no. I didn’t plan on killing her.

Half-dead should be enough. Maybe a little past that.

For all my complaints, I was still alive because of her. I’d met Tomoe and the others because of her, too. I couldn’t deny that much.

“Well, she’s probably not the only god out there,” I said. “If things really came to that, I’m sure another one would show up eventually.”

“You say that like you’ve actually met other gods,” Senpai muttered. “Though I suppose I’ve run into one suspicious entity in a strange place myself.”

“Uh, well, I have met another god who seemed to know her. Or at least, someone like that…”

She stared at me.

“So, your plan is to force the Goddess to change her thinking through brute strength?” Senpai asked. “Without considering the consequences at all?”

“If it comes down to it, people can just evacuate somewhere safe until the chaos settles,” I replied.

“To be honest, you’re remarkably cold when it comes to a hyuman crisis. You don’t discriminate against demi-humans, but you do discriminate against hyumans.”

Nope. I absolutely do not.

“I don’t discriminate against anyone, demi-humans or hyumans,” I insisted.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Senpai murmured. “Then that’s… quite serious.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Your words and actions keep implying that hyumans deserve to suffer. That since they and the Goddess have done whatever they wanted for so long, it’s only fair they get hurt now.”

“Well, hyumans have been doing whatever they wanted, haven’t they?”

That wasn’t discrimination. That was a fact.

“Yes,” Senpai agreed. “But isn’t turning around and treating them coldly because of that discrimination as well?”

“Hyumans are the overwhelming majority in this world,” I said. “The ones who essentially hold all the power. How does the word ‘discrimination’ even apply to them?”

Discrimination was something the strong did to the weak. That was how I understood it.

“So?” she pressed.

“Huh?”

“So, you’re saying discrimination doesn’t count if it’s directed at the ruling class? Hyumans do have a particular way of looking at demi-humans, that’s true. But have you noticed, Makoto-kun? You sometimes look at hyumans the same way.”

“…!”

“Here. And back in Rotsgard, too.”

I didn’t have any conscious awareness of that.

When she put it that way—when she asked whether it was acceptable to treat a powerful group discriminatorily just because they were powerful—I couldn’t honestly say yes.

“Listen,” Senpai said. “By this world’s structure, you and I are outsiders. If that’s the case, shouldn’t someone who truly doesn’t discriminate treat both hyumans and demi-humans equally, without regard for historical baggage? If someone’s suffering right in front of you, shouldn’t you reach out regardless of their past, their status, or how they’ve lived? ‘Hyumans have had it good, so endure it.’ ‘Demi-humans are pitiful, so help them.’ Don’t you think that mindset itself is discrimination against hyumans?”

“But hyumans have spent generations treating demi-humans as convenient servants,” I shot back. “They’ve lived without ever reflecting on it. I can’t look at them with saintly compassion.”

“That’s because you’re judging them by our common sense,” Senpai replied immediately. “This isn’t Japan. It’s another world. The common sense here, for both hyumans and demi-humans, is built that way. And the demons are the ones who took up arms and started a war precisely because they rejected that common sense.”

“It’s a wrong common sense,” I said quietly.

“To a Japanese person, yes. But from a hyuman’s perspective in this world, the things you criticize are perfectly ordinary. Most of them wouldn’t even understand why they’re being condemned. And hyumans, aside from their treatment of demi-humans and their obsession with beauty, do possess a genuine hatred of discrimination among themselves.”

“You can’t just exclude the parts that matter most and expect me to accept that.”

“That’s exactly why changing people at the root takes time. Time that can only begin after the war ends. But if someone like you insists on solving everything by overpowering the Goddess, then everything we’ve built will be destroyed.”

“I’m not saying I’m guaranteed to win. You can fight the war your way, Senpai. At the very least, I’m going to act according to my own beliefs. No matter whose words they are, even yours, I can’t just accept them unquestioningly.”

“If only you’d lose,” she murmured, leaning her weight against the handrail of the covered walkway and slowly sinking to her knees.

“There’s a very real chance of that,” I said. “No matter how you slice it, she is a god.”

What she’d said stung a little, but there was nothing to be done about it.

I understood why that outcome would make her happy. Senpai was clearly, completely opposed to the idea of me fighting the Goddess.

Even so, I couldn’t imagine arranging things so perfectly that the world would suffer no consequences before taking her on.

I had zero interest in managing this world, and even less in becoming a god.

Rather than worrying about something pointless, it felt far more important to find a way to return to my home world with Tomoe and the others, preferably while still being able to come and go from the Demiplane.

Hibiki looked up at me with an expression that was equal parts resentful and sulky.

“I just can’t picture you losing,” she said.

“T-Thanks. I guess.”

“It’s one thing if the enemy’s too far away, or the range is too wide, or there are just too many of them,” she went on. “In those cases, I understand my own limits. But facing someone I can strike directly, someone I can’t do anything against? That’s a first for me.”

She gave a faint, bitter smile.

“And that’s with me going all out. The current me, at that.”

The current her, going all out.

Yeah. That pretty much confirmed it. She’d probably acquired some kind of absurd ability, something on the level of World-type powers. Either way, she was hiding something big.

“H-Hey, you were strong too,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “You really lived up to the whole ‘Hero’ title.”

“You weren’t serious at all,” she shot back. “So, then, which is stronger? Me or the Demon King?”

“If I’d actually fought the Demon King, I could answer that.”

“Then what about Io, their general? You fought him in the capital, didn’t you? The White One.”

The White One… Oh no. The suit.

My face heated up as the memory came rushing back.

So, she’d already figured out that was me, huh? Yeah. I should’ve known. There was no fooling her.

“If the attack power I showed during our sparring match is anything to go by,” I said after a pause, “then yeah. I think you could probably beat Io.”

Fighting Io, huh…

That would come down to whether you could overwhelm that giant’s regeneration.

If you waited for it to run out, it’d turn into an absurd endurance match. You’d have to press the attack and finish it decisively somewhere along the line.

Senpai had taken some nasty hits from him before, hadn’t she?

Yeah. Their compatibility was awful. Still, with how she was now, I could see her pulling off a win.

Which meant she was even stronger than that terrifying brute of a giant.

That was honestly kind of scary.

“Getting a seal of approval from the ‘white guy’ really boosts my confidence,” Senpai said with a wry smile. “And I have to beat him.”

“Uh-huh.”

After crossing paths on the battlefield so many times, I guess you’re bound to build a grudge or two.

I didn’t really have anything like that. Not with anyone except the Goddess.

Suddenly, Senpai let go of the railing and straightened up, her back snapping perfectly upright. Maybe it was because she’d practiced kendo, but her posture was so immaculate it made me stop and stare.

That part of her hadn’t changed at all since back then.

“So,” she said briskly, “Raidou and the Kuzunoha Company are allies to everyone in need. Right?”

“Huh?”

W-Wait. Is that okay?

I mean, I wasn’t going to complain.

No matter how hard she pushed me to side exclusively with Limia, I could never agree to it.

“And on top of that, you’re a troublesome individual who’s openly anti-Goddess,” she added lightly. “Well, I’ll keep that part secret for you.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Honestly, I doubt the Goddess has been listening anyway. Ever since the capital was attacked, there’s been almost no reaction at all. Blessings and protections still exist, but beyond that? Nothing. I have no idea what she’s thinking right now.”

No reaction from the Goddess?

So, she wasn’t responding to the temples. Or even to the Heroes?

The attack on the capital…

Right. That lined up with when Susanoo and the others had met her.

I hadn’t been told the details, but had something happened then? Some kind of pact or agreement that left her unable to act?

“Maybe I said something strange,” Senpai admitted with a faint, rueful smile. “But if you understand, even if just a little, that I intend someday to remove the Goddess’s distortions and harmful influence from this world, then that’s enough for today.”

“I did get the sense that you’re thinking of it as something far in the future,” I replied.

Far in the future, as in probably long after we’re both gone.

That must be why she’d felt so distant.

This woman wasn’t necessarily determined to accomplish the goals she set with her own hands. She was willing to move forward steadily, one step at a time. And if she couldn’t finish in her lifetime, she’d pass it on to the future.

“Humans can pass their feelings on,” Senpai said. “We’re a species that can make time our ally. Trying to do everything yourself, within your own generation, can lead to needless pain. It can even distort the purpose itself.”

“If you decide to do something, then see it through with your own hands no matter what, I find that quite admirable,” I said. “Time inevitably erodes memory. And once you’re gone, there’s no way to know whether future generations will feel the same way you did.”

“So, you can’t bring yourself to trust society as a whole. This world itself.”

“I think you’re right about what you said earlier. Somewhere deep down, I probably do have a bias against hyumans. I understand what you’re saying logically, but it won’t sink into my heart. That’s why. Being told to trust hyumans, or their ability to change, right now?”

I shook my head.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Even if you understand it, that doesn’t mean you can erase it right away,” Senpai said softly. “And it’s not something you need to apologize for. From here on, let’s just treat each other as merchant and customer. I’ll be in your care, Makoto-kun.”

“Yes, likewise.”

We were close.

And yet, far apart.

I hadn’t wanted to understand that, but I did.

It wasn’t the same discomfort I felt toward Tomoki. This was different. A difference I wished didn’t exist.

Senpai accepted the Goddess’s world as it was.

From there, she planned to convey the unease she felt as a Japanese person, and slowly, painfully slowly, change it. Fully aware of how much time it would take.

I didn’t think like that.

I believed it was only natural to force the Goddess to reflect on herself, right now, and to bring about a world where hyumans and demi-humans stood as equals immediately.

Even if it caused immense damage.

From this world’s perspective, or from the Goddess’s, maybe I was the most vicious terrorist of all.

Even so, if I could just find a way to go back to my original world in the form I wanted, I knew I’d move.

To face the Goddess head-on.

And when that time came, would I end up fighting Hikibi as well?

I didn’t think a real battle between us could even happen, but still. If I could avoid raising my blade against her, I truly wanted to.

Chapter 10

“Do you understand what you just did?”

Alone on the covered walkway after Makoto had gone, Hibiki spoke into the empty space, her tone faintly self-mocking.

“Without even getting serious, you brushed aside the power of the feelings of tens of millions of people—feelings that have been entrusted to me. Seeing it directly like that made you far more frightening than the Goddess ever was.

“Honestly, I really am the type who stumbles right when it matters most.”

Her thoughts drifted to her fight with Io. To her attempts to recruit Mio and Lime. Hibiki chuckled bitterly.

It was the same sensation every time: like the most important things always slipped through her arms just before she could grasp them. Like wind slipping between the fingers of an outstretched hand.

That’s exactly what it feels like, she thought, and her soliloquy continued.

“If we lose to the demons, it’s over. If we lose the war with Tomoki, it’s over. And if Makoto-kun runs wild, that’s the end, too. What a situation.” She exhaled slowly. “At least with the last one, there’s still a sliver of hope afterward. A world without the Goddess? Judging from the current state of things, eight or nine times out of ten, it would turn into a warring-states era of countless small nations. At the very least, it would be more hopeless than the world we have now. That much is certain.”

Grim visions surfaced in her mind, only to fade away one after another.

Defeat the demons. Silence the Empire. And on top of that, restrain Makoto without relying on brute force.

Only after accomplishing all of that could Hibiki’s true objective even begin.

Just as she herself had said, it was an insane situation. One so close to impossible it was laughable.

Even so, Hibiki couldn’t retreat.

“I have to keep going to the very end,” she whispered. “So, many people died believing in me. I killed so many for the sake of what I aim for. There were people like Navarre, who put their own lives on the line to protect me.”

Her hands clenched.

“I can’t give up. I have to struggle until the very last moment, right up to the brink of death.”

As an awakened individual brought through world transference, Hibiki could turn others' thoughts into power.

Because of that, she was acutely aware of the countless wishes tied around her like sashes, never leaving her body.

She fought while constantly bearing the weight of both the lives entrusted to her and the lives she had taken.

Hibiki felt that, in exchange for her newly gained power, she had taken on the obligation to give everything she had until the very last instant.

That was why she couldn’t retreat. Even if her opponent possessed strength that could effortlessly tear apart the combined weight of countless people’s feelings.

“Being a Hero is really such a demanding role.”

To Hibiki, the Goddess was the existence that had given her this environment.

Because of that, she did feel a certain amount of gratitude toward her. But only a certain amount.

If she had to put it into words, it was like recognizing someone as the person who first discovered her potential.

Unfortunately, that superior was the kind of person who was hard to respect and riddled with problems. Still, they produced solid results on paper, so you had no choice but to find a way to work with them.

That was just how it was.

Reaching that conclusion, Hibiki sighed.

“Haa. If I could choose freely which god to hoist up as my banner, Makoto-kun would honestly be easier to deal with than the Goddess. Even if we treated him like a god, we could probably isolate him as much as we wanted under the pretense of worshipping him. And yet, after all the outrageous things he said, the only things he reacted strongly to were the Goddess herself… and maybe the part about anti-hyuman discrimination. He has no intention of ruling. That boy doesn’t even have the will to found a nation.”

Hibiki understood all too well that if he did go so far as creating a country—one whose military strength would obviously surpass every existing nation’s—and becoming its king, their range of options would expand dramatically. That would be a move neither hyumans nor demons could afford to ignore.

At the very least, as long as Makoto and his close companions lived, no one would be able to wage an all-out war without considering that country.

“No desire to be a king, or a god. And yet he unconsciously treats authority as something beneath him, while thinking of the Goddess as an equal opponent. I don’t understand him at all.”

With a soft thud, Hibiki sank down onto the cold corridor floor.

“My legs just gave out. Yeah. Of course they did. I mean, if things had gone just a little differently, I might’ve gone cold right there. It wasn’t just my mind; my body was enduring the fear, too.”

An absolute powerhouse.

That’s what Makoto was to Hibiki at that point.

The moment the tension she’d been holding snapped loose, her body reminded her, in its own merciless way, of what she’d been facing.

The things she wanted to ask. The attempt to recruit him. The confrontation she’d feared.

For Hibiki, that conversation had been one carried out as if she were standing on thin ice.

He’s not on a level where you can think of him as just human anymore. He’s closer to an earthquake, a tsunami, a volcanic eruption, or a tornado. Something like that. Fighting him isn’t realistic. But because he has will and agency, he can’t simply be ignored either.

What a monster he’s become.

Then Hibiki realized something.

Two separate snags had formed inside her.

Then why didn’t I submit to him? In terms of sheer force, he’s an individual who surpasses entire nations. A monster wearing human skin. No matter how hard Limia tried, it couldn’t beat him. If I were being brutally practical, the only rational choice should’ve been to flatter him.

One answer came to her almost immediately.

Because it was her own emotion.

She stared down at the city below, where the lights were sparse and thinning, and fell silent.

I know what it is. Hatred. I can’t forgive the demons. They burned dozens, maybe hundreds of villages. They killed so many people. They killed Navarre. That’s it. That’s why.

Hibiki nodded to herself several times.

She faced that feeling and brought it under control.

Important. And difficult.

The more natural a feeling became, the deeper it settled inside you. The harder it was to uproot.

This wasn’t the same as overcoming the death of a companion.

At last, she understood why she hadn’t chosen the option of completely currying favor with Makoto.

Of course. I’ve killed so many of them myself. Every one of those people must have had comrades, family, lovers. And even so, I hate the demons. So, this is what it means to become a party to it. This is the hatred born of war. Such a troublesome thing.

She was startled by the depth of the hatred for the demons that had quietly accumulated within her. It had taken root so naturally that it had grown large before she’d even noticed.

Yes, the demons were enemies. Yes, they were detestable.

But she hadn’t realized she herself was bound this tightly by that feeling.

She’d believed she had it under control.

That was why the shock ran so deep.

If I were to flatter Makoto-kun, I’d have to at least superficially affirm his way of thinking. Which would make continuing the war impossible. That’s why I…

She stopped short.

Hibiki wanted the war to continue.

Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening.

That’s it. I can’t do it. I want revenge. I want to kill him. Until I kill Io.

At last, she’d found her answer.

And then she felt foolish. For how painfully personal it was.

It wasn’t strange. Not at all. And yet, a laugh bubbled up from deep in her throat.

She laughed for a while, quietly, until it finally subsided, but she remained seated on the floor.

Then she turned her thoughts to the second snag.

What was it that felt off? Just before I thought of Makoto-kun as a monster, I felt something. Something very specific.

Her eyes widened again.

Evacuation. That’s it. After saying the world would fall into chaos, into a post-apocalyptic state, he said, “Evacuate.” Why would evacuation be necessary?

Certainly, if the Goddess were defeated, massive upheaval would follow. But for powerful individuals or organizations, that wouldn’t be a reason to flee. It would be an opportunity.

With that kind of turmoil, the Kuzunoha Company could realistically become the greatest merchant guild in the world by riding the wave.

And yet he’d said evacuate.

That was what struck her as unnatural, coming from someone so overwhelmingly strong.

And yet, when Makoto-kun says it, it doesn’t feel strange.

Evacuate.

A safe place. Which means he has somewhere that will still be safe even if the entire world collapses.

It couldn’t have been his shops. During Rotsgard’s Mutant Incident, even the Kuzunoha storefronts had been destroyed. And neither Rotsgard nor Tsige would be spared if the world descended into chaos.

Hibiki began listing places connected to Makoto, weighing each possibility.

She wanted, even if only a little, to grasp his tendencies, his hidden cards.

!!! There is one.

The very first place he visited in this world. The Edge of the World. If his base lies deep within the Wasteland, then it would be completely detached from the chaos of the world. A place where one could live peacefully for years, untouched. For someone like him, someone who wouldn’t even think to restore order himself, that’s more than plausible.

She dredged up memories from Tsige, where she’d once stayed to train.

She searched her recollections for any mention of a base in the Wasteland beyond the known outposts.

And eventually, she arrived at an answer.

The topic itself had been rare to begin with, which made it all the easier for her to reach it by process of elimination. The phantom city she’d heard whispered about more than once in Tsige.

“The Mirage City,” she murmured. “I don’t want to think so, but could that be Makoto-kun’s true base?”

In the end, Hibiki had never gotten the chance to visit it before returning to Limia.

Yet the more she thought about it, the more strongly she felt that the Mirage City and the Kuzunoha Company were deeply intertwined.

“A phantom city somewhere in the Wasteland. If that is their headquarters, then having their first storefront in Tsige almost feels like the perfect decoy. The Wasteland as their true home, Tsige as a branch. Yeah! If he’d already secured a base before ever stepping out of the Wasteland and into Tsige, then…”

Another realization struck her, so chilling it stole her breath away.

The Wasteland is much too far away.

If it’s truly their base, they’d need to be able to go back there quickly and easily.

The Emperor and Prince Joshua had said it after returning from Rotsgard:

“We ended up crippling the long-distance teleportation the Kuzunoha Company relied on.”

That was a lie.

It wasn’t crippled. They didn’t just have a way to transport goods; they had a stable, long-range means of returning. Otherwise, evacuation wouldn’t even be an option.

Hibiki didn’t know about the Demiplane.

So, to her, the Mirage City existed somewhere at the far Edge of the World; a real city, but unimaginably distant.

If conceiving of an entirely separate dimension was impossible, then she had just come astonishingly close to pinpointing Makoto’s base.

If you can manipulate teleportation at will and completely ignore distance, then running shops while you send merchants to peddle goods across the world makes perfect sense.

Yeah. If I treat Kuzunoha Company the same way as the Goddess, as beings who reside on a different plane of existence, then…

They’ve clearly said they have no interest in war. That means there’s still room to maneuver.

Hibiki was now working out how she might engage with the Kuzunoha Company while simultaneously forecasting how the war with the demons might unfold.

It’s not exactly what Lyca asked of me, but if the absolute minimum compromise is preventing Makoto-kun from destroying the world, then I can still act.

If I can balance things so that the benefits Kuzunoha Company brings are equal for both hyumans and demons. If the demons make a major move while the Goddess remains unharmed. Then, with her support, things might tilt in our favor.

Although, since the demons already see the Goddess as an enemy, too, maybe that part isn’t something I need to worry about.

Hibiki rose to her feet and left the covered walkway, heading in the opposite direction from where Makoto had gone.

Even after gaining a clearer understanding of Makoto and the Kuzunoha Company’s true power, there was no resignation in her eyes.

If anything, they burned with resolve.

Makoto and Hibiki’s dialogue, and Hibiki’s inner monologue.

That chapter of the story came to a close.

Far from the covered walkway, in a place no one should have been, sat a lone figure.

Having heard every word of Makoto and Hibiki’s exchange from her perch atop one of the castle’s slender spires, the woman’s smile slowly spread—first across her lips, then up to her eyes.

This was Mio.

“Ufufufu, a complete breakdown. As expected,” she murmured softly. “Young Master and Hibiki only appeared similar in how they viewed the current situation. Of course, it wouldn’t work out. I couldn’t have planned that more perfectly.”

Mio had arranged the circumstances that led Makoto and Hibiki into conversation, gently guided the flow, but she hadn’t interfered with the outcome.

Nor had she manipulated their words.

She had just known, instinctively, what would happen once the two truly clashed.

“When Tomoe told me her assessment of Hibiki, I knew right away. It was fine. There was no way she and Young Master could ever understand each other. Hibiki’s never known the bottom. And then Young Master, in a sense, has only ever looked up from below. This outcome was inevitable.”

Tomoe’s evaluation of Hibiki echoed in Mio’s mind.

It had cut straight into a part of Hibiki she herself hadn’t yet realized.

Hibiki does not know the position of the truly weak.

She cannot understand the standpoint of absolute weakness. Because she genuinely believes that if people work hard enough, they will achieve results. She does not know that there are those who, no matter how they struggle, will never be anything but fools, will never be strong. Of course, since she herself can succeed if she tries, it’s hardly strange that a young girl like her would think that way.

If one risks their life and works hard, they can achieve something. Hibiki believed that with all her heart. And while there are those for whom that is true, there also exists a layer of people for whom even that is meaningless. People who are crushed not only by talent or environment, but by external pressures they can never overcome.

For someone like Hibiki—raised in Japan, in a clearly privileged environment, gifted with ability, and never forced into that role herself—it was perhaps unreasonable to expect her to truly understand that reality.

Tomoe’s words were harsh, but fair.

Makoto, on the other hand, did not possess the perspective of the strong.

In terms of position and responsibility, he didn’t even grasp what stage he should be standing on. His sense of balance in that regard was catastrophically poor.

This wasn’t exaggeration or mockery.

If responsibility were proportional to power, Makoto should already be acting with the weight of the entire world in mind.

“Because the more Hibiki learns, the less she understands him, she grows wary,” Mio muttered. “And since she can’t draw him to her side, she’ll try to exclude him from the war as much as possible. But Young Master will never accept that.”

She gave a soft, thoroughly satisfied laugh.

Bathed in moonlight, Mio’s innocent smile carried a fragile, dangerous beauty. It bordered on madness.

“After all, to Young Master, it doesn’t matter whether someone’s hyuman or demi-human. If both are standing there in trouble, he’ll save the demi-human first—but only by that much. To him, it’s the individual who really matters. And simply because, in everything he’s seen so far, there have been more foolish hyumans than demi-humans, he ends up leaning that way. It’s such a simple thing. And yet no one understands it. How strange.”

That, Mio realized, was precisely why Makoto still maintained ties with hyumans. And at the same time, why he remained unable to adopt a broad, overarching perspective beyond a certain point.

“If war comes, no one gets to stay out of it. If war makes people suffer, Young Master will act. There’s no chance he’d bother himself with troublesome questions like what their futures might look like afterward. Keeping pace with someone like Hibiki, who thinks only about the future and the world at large, that was a fantasy from the start.”

Her voice was calm, assured as she spoke to herself.

“I’m sure Young Master realized that, too. Really, the future is a problem for future citizens. No matter what Young Master does now, and no matter how the world changes because of it, to those born later, it’s nothing more than an unavoidable fate.”

It was a reckless line of reasoning. But Mio was incapable of caring about anything other than Makoto.

If something pleased him, then it was right.

If bothersome noise crept close and caused her master distress, then she wanted nothing more than to remove the source of that distress.

This was the sole reason for everything Mio had done.

Still, Makoto worried far more than necessary about those around him. And so Mio had decided to act, just a little, from the shadows.

“The ones at the top, whether hyumans or demons, are truly unbearable. Young Master has already said he has no interest. So, they should just kill each other however they like, somewhere out of his sight. Honestly.”

Almost simultaneously with those words leaving her lips, Mio vanished from the spire.

As if she’d never been there at all.

※※※

“Oh. The shrine maiden–san—ah, no. Shrine Maiden–sama, isn’t it?”

Before I could reach my room, I ran into someone very unexpected indeed.

A member of Senpai’s party; the Shrine Maiden of Lorel. If I remembered right, her name was Chiya.

She looked to be about twelve or thirteen. Despite the late hour, she stood there as if she’d been waiting for me. And judging from her clothes, they definitely weren’t sleepwear.

“Um, did you need something from me?” I prompted when she continued staring at me in silence.

“I am Chiya, Shrine Maiden of Lorel. First, please allow me to apologize for the many discourtesies I have shown you. I am truly sorry.”

She bent at the waist, bowing deeply. So deeply it was almost excessive.

“If you mean the time you collapsed, don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’ve heard a bit about what happened. Though if you don’t mind, I would appreciate hearing what you saw. At least as much as you’re able to explain.”

“It was not only that,” she replied. “I was also unable to join you for dinner even once.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem. You weren’t feeling well, right? I don’t want you to feel bad about that.”

It was true, though; Senpai and Prince Joshua had eaten with me several times, but the shrine maiden hadn’t joined us even once. There was even a time when the meal had clearly been prepared, yet she never showed up.

I’d assumed something had come up at the last minute. But even then, if she was unwell enough to miss meals, that wasn’t something she should feel responsible for.

She’s so proper for someone so young, I thought.

“Thank you very much,” Chiya said softly. “My discourtesy could reasonably be taken as discourtesy on Lorel’s behalf, so hearing you say that is a relief.”

She’s also way too stiff for someone her age.

The apology itself wasn’t an issue, but I was curious about what she’d seen.

What could someone like her possibly have witnessed, I wondered, that made her lose control and collapse?

So, I stayed silent, waiting for what she would say next.

“I attempted to peer into the essence of those of the Kuzunoha Company without restraint,” Chiya said. “Even if it was through the power of a shrine maiden, it was an act deserving of censure. If you wish it, conveying the results to you may be my duty.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t say I’m offended or anything like that…”

Besides, it sounded like Senpai had put her up to it anyway. Even if a child her age were given the ability to see into the essence of others, it wouldn’t be strange for her to want to try using it.

Although calling this shrine maiden a “child” didn’t quite feel right either.

“What I saw in Lime was a gentle, enormous tree,” Chiya said quietly. “Its leaves were lush and vivid, and it was glittering as if wet with rain. I saw the form of a young dragon nestled within it, as though it lived there. I can’t discern what it signifies, but it left me with the impression that she is a deeply admirable person.”

A gentle giant tree. And a young dragon. Yeah. That tracks.

This girl really was seeing things only she could see.

Still, those visions felt like they held a great deal of truth. Like she was touching something close to a person’s core.

“As for Mio-san, she appeared as a large, black spider,” Chiya continued. “The Spider of Calamity. Around its neck was a massive collar, and the spider treated the chained collar as something precious. Something it cherished.”

So, she saw straight through Mio, huh.

That collar was probably a symbol of her contract.

Which meant—

Did she see the chain as being connected to me?

“Ah. Mio is… complicated,” I said carefully. “But as you can see, she’s not an indiscriminate monster right now. In most situations, she’s actually safer than she used to be, so—”

“Even if I were to make a fuss, I understand that nothing would improve,” Chiya said calmly. “Please rest assured.”

“Oh. I see. That’s a relief.”

“And then, there was you.”

Her voice tightened slightly.

“You appeared as a faceless humanoid, entirely white. You were carrying a large, beautiful bow.”

A white, faceless figure?

A doll, maybe?

No, that alone wouldn’t be enough to make her collapse.

“A white, faceless humanoid,” I repeated. “That’s quite something. Unfortunately, I don’t really understand what that might mean. Was it some kind of symbol?”

I’d expected her gift to show her something much less abstract, much easier to grasp.

“I’m sorry,” Chiya said. “I only awakened to this power recently. I still can’t accurately interpret the things I see.”

“No, I’m not blaming you.”

As I tried to reassure her, the shrine maiden hesitated, then continued.

“There were cracks in that white figure. Small ones.”

“Cracks?”

“And within them—” She sucked in a sharp breath. “P-Please forgive me. Within them, there was something… something utterly grotesque. At least, that’s how it appeared to me. Th-those… eyes…”

Wait, just the eyes were that horrifying that she’s struggling to describe them?

“How bad are we talking?” I asked. “Something so unpleasant you’d collapse just from seeing it?”

“I don’t know,” Chiya admitted. “I didn’t look at it for very long.”

“I see.”

After a brief silence, she suddenly stepped closer, her expression strained with urgency.

“Please!” she pleaded. “I may not be capable of doing anything myself, but please don’t let that come to the surface! If you truly consider yourself a merchant, then I beg you. Please!”

“Whoa, h-hey! Calm down,” I said quickly.

First of all, what exactly was this “that” that she was talking about?

The eyes? Was I supposed to imagine eyeballs oozing out or something?

Yeah, that would be scary.

Still, how was I supposed to keep something I didn’t even understand from “coming out”?

Coming back to her senses, Chiya drew a few shaky breaths. She was still tense, her whole body stiff.

“I-I am terribly sorry.”

“Um, I don’t really understand, but I’ll do what I can,” I said carefully. “So, please try not to worry too much. You might have seen something unsettling, but this isn’t… future sight or anything like that, right?”

“N-no. It isn’t.”

She hesitated, then looked up at me again.

“Onee—no, Hibiki-sama mentioned this, but you don’t worship the Goddess, do you?” Then she quickly added, “I’m not accusing you of anything! Whether it’s the spirits, scholarship, money, magic, or the sword—it can be anything at all. But for the sake of my own learning, could you tell me what teachings or beliefs you rely on?”

“Huh? My teachings or beliefs?”

“Yes. The Goddess’s doctrine, the teachings of the four elemental spirits derived from it, or the truths of scholarship revered by some academics, things like that.”

“I don’t really have any,” I said after thinking it over. “I’m not particularly interested in religion, and I don’t believe science explains everything either. Do you mean like a guiding principle?”

The shrine maiden stared at me, dumbfounded.

Had she expected an answer right away?

That was asking a bit much.

“Well, I did study kyūdō for a while,” I added. “So, I suppose I have some rules I keep for myself. Would that count?”

“Please. I would like to hear them.”

“Once I decide to do something, I see it through with my own strength. Since it’s my decision, I don’t rely on anyone else; I treat it as a discipline I must obey. It’s pretty vague, I admit. And honestly, in my life so far, there’s only been one thing I’ve ever decided like that.”

“And what would that be?”

She was leaning forward, listening so intently that it was almost disarming. Maybe she was simply used to hearing people talk.

Or maybe it was because she was still a kid.

“I decided I’d keep practicing the bow,” I answered. “No matter which path I choose, what job I take, or where I end up living, I’ve decided I’ll practice archery for my entire life. That’s all.”

“I see,” Chiya said softly. “To continue something requires strong will, no matter what it is. It is difficult, but I think it is a wonderful resolution.”

“Thank you. Somehow, it feels like I’m the one being comforted here.”

“Once you decide, you will absolutely do it…”

She repeated my words under her breath, as if tasting them, letting them sink in.

“By the way, Lady Shrine Maiden, how are you feeling now?” I asked. “If you’re still recovering, I can give you some medicine, just in case.”

“Huh? Ah, n-no, I’m quite fine.”

“I see. Then, it’s already quite late, so perhaps you should head back to your room? If you’d like, I can walk you part of the way.”

“I can manage on my own. Thank you for your concern. And please forgive the intrusion at such a late hour. Good night, Raidou-sama.”

As she turned and walked away, I was left standing there, wondering: just how many different girls had I talked to tonight?

She’d been a remarkably mature child. That impression lingered with me long after she disappeared down the corridor.

“Oh, boss! Welcome back. The shrine maiden was just here a little while ago, y’know? You didn’t happen to run into her on the way, did you?”

When I entered the room, Lime was waiting for me.

“Yeah, I did. She came all the way to this room on her own.”

“Figured. She said she wanted to apologize to you. I told her you weren’t the type to hold grudges, and that I’d pass the message along, so she should head back and get some rest. She wouldn’t listen, as you probably saw.”

“Right. Well, that lines up with what we talked about. Mr. Gentle Giant Tree.”

“Huh?”

“The white, faceless guy is going to bed now. Night.”

“Right. Good night, Boss.”

The day of our departure from Limia was getting close.

Hibiki-senpai’s home, the Kingdom of Limia.

I’d thought it might be a fairly comfortable stay. But in the end, it had turned out to be a lot more exhausting than I’d imagined.

I didn’t have the capacity Senpai did to think about the future of a nation, or of the entire world.

I could barely read the intentions of individuals one by one. There was no way I could grasp the will of millions of people, the collective intent of entire races, crystallized into something like a country.

The Demon King. Senpai. The kings of various nations.

They all steered the ship, knowing full well how impossible that task was.

I mean, I couldn’t even fully keep track of the circumstances or motivations of everyone working in my own trading company. This kind of responsibility was far too heavy for me.

Should you take on what you can’t do but must do?

Or should you focus solely on what you can do?

When I get back to the Demiplane, I should talk it over with Tomoe and Shiki.

Ah. While I’m at it, maybe I’ll drop by and see Kaleneon on the way back.And I should probably have a word with Demon King Zef, too.

Maybe it was because my head was already full. Or maybe it was just because so much had happened, and it was already so late.

Either way, my thoughts cut off right there.

Sleep wins. All right, whatever. I’m turning in.

Author: Azumi Kei

was born in Aichi Prefecture. In 2012, Kei began serializing Tsuki ga Michibiku Isekai Dōchū (Tsukimichi: Moonlit Fantasy) on the web. It quickly became a popular series and won the Readers’ Choice Award at the 5th Alphapolis Fantasy Novel Awards. In May 2013, following revisions, Kei made their publishing debut with Tsuki ga Michibiku Isekai Dōchū.

Illustrations by Mitsuaki Matsumoto

http://transparnaut.web.fc2.com/

This book is a revised and published version of the work originally posted on the website “Shosetsuka ni Naro” (http://syosetu.com/)

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