Translation of Sword Art Online’s volume 15, chapter 17.

Chapter 17

Dark Territory

11th Month of Human Empire Calendar 380

1

Dark Knight Lipia Zankale leapt off her flying dragon’s back before it came to a stop and began running through the elevated walkway connecting the landing platform and imperial palace at full speed.

Soon finding it stifling, she tore off the helmet covering even face with her right hand.

Settling her long ashen-blue hair that waved out behind her with her left hand, Lipia sped up further. Though she would strip off her heavy armor and mantle if she could, she had no desire to give the magistrates who filled the imperial palace even a glimpse of her skin.

A gigantic, towering black palace tore into the red skies in the gaps between round columns lined up on her right after she dashed through the winding corridor.

Imperial Obsidia Palace was built by excavating the tallest—ignoring the vexing «mountain range at the edge»—rocky mountains found in the boundless land of darkness over a hundred years.

It was said the mountain range at the edge and the humongous gate carved into its solid rock could be seen just beyond the western horizon from the throne room at the top floor, though just barely.

However, no one could verify the truth behind that legend.

The throne of the land of darkness was left vacant ever since the first emperor, Vector the god of darkness, departed for the darkness beneath the earth in ancient times. The grand door to the top floor was sealed with chains of infinite Life and will never open.

Lipia tore her sight off the top of the pitch-black palace and called out the ogre guards protecting the looming palace gate.

“I am the eleventh among the dark knights, Zankale! Open the gate!!”

The guards with the head of wolves and the body of men were rather dull in their heads compared to their brawns and it was only immediately before Lipia reached the cast iron gate when they began rotating the handle to open it.

A leaden noise tolled as the gate opened and she slipped sideways through before it got far.

The palace greeted Lipia for the first time in three months with its usual chilly air.

The corridors polished by the simple and honest subordinate kobolds daily were speckless. She ran, her shoes clanging against the obsidian flooring, and saw a pair of women, voluptuous and clad in revealing clothing, noiselessly gliding across the floor before her.

The large pointy hats sitting on their glossy, wavy hair indicated them to be dark arts users. When she attempted to pass them without making eye contact, one of the women deliberately spoke out in her shrill voice.

“My, how the earth trembles! I wonder if there are orcs running somewhere?!”

A reply immediately came from the other accompanied with high-pitched laughter.

“That wouldn’t be enough, this tremor must be from the giants!”

—I would have slit their tongues off if it wasn’t for the restriction on drawing swords in the palace.

Lipia thought as she ran past with no more than a snort.

Most female humans born in the land of darkness enter the Dark Arts Users’ Guild after graduating from the preparatory school. The notoriously hedonic organization was said to teach indulgence in place of order and those who finished were mostly like that bunch, holding interest in nothing but dressing up.

Despite all that, they become uncharacteristically fired up when it came to opposing girls who choose the path of the knight. Lipia, too, was driven to her wits’ end when she was young and an art user she was on bad terms with in her class in cadet school shot a poison curse at her. Though that girl became rather docile after having the braided hair she was so proud of snipped off.

In the end, those of this land were no more than fools without concern for the future.

The land of darkness had no future with its organizations and people at each other’s throat, not knowing any means of settling conflicts except through strength.

Though the «Ten Lords Assembly» was key to maintaining the perilous equilibrium now, that will not last long. If any of the ten lords lose their life in the looming war with the Human Empire—which the orcs and goblins call the «land of iums»—the balance will collapse and a warring age where blood is washed away by blood will return.

The one who painted that image of the future to Lipia was one of the ten lords, her direct supervisor as the head of the Order of the Dark Knights as well as the man who was her lover.

And Lipia now held confidential information in her chest that he eagerly awaited.

In which case, she did not have even a second to spare on the female art users’ nonsense.

Crossing straight through the empty hall, she ran up the grand staircase, two steps at a time. Though trained, she was still out of breath when she finally reached the floor she wanted.

The «Ten Lords Assembly» ruled over the entire land of darkness through conferences, with five seats going to the human race, two seats to the goblin race, and the remaining three seats to the heads of the orc, ogre, and giant races. With something like a treaty tended after over a hundred long years of civil wars, the result was an agreement that stipulated none among the five races was superior to another.

As such, the eighteenth floor near the top floor of Obsidia Palace had private rooms established for each of the ten lords. Silencing her footsteps somewhat as she ran through the hallway, Lipia knocked on the door to one of the rooms further in three times with her armored right hand.

“Enter.”

A husky voice immediately responded.

After looking to the sides and confirming no one was in the hallway, Lipia quickly slipped through the door.

While feeling nostalgia from the masculine smell in the room that maximized utilitarianism in terms of decoration, she placed a knee onto the floor and lowered her head.

“Knight Lipia Zankale has now returned under your service.”

“Good work. Go on, sit.”

She raised her face, aware of the throbbing in her chest in response to that deep voice.

The man who flumped himself onto one of the sofas surrounding a round table with his legs crossed up high was the dark knight commander—with the alias, «Dark General», Viksul Ur Shasta.

A towering stature despite being of the human race. Though naturally the same could not be said of his girth, he would not lose in height even against ogres. His deep black hair was trimmed short and the moustache at his mouth was in order as well.

His plain hemp shirt covered rising burly muscles that threatened to burst its buttons, but there was absolutely no excess meat around his waist. Few knew his perfect body hardly thinkable of one who crossed forty was maintained through his tremendous daily training that he continued without fail even after ascending to the top among the knights.

Holding down her desire to jump into the chest of her sweetheart upon seeing him for the first time in three months, Lipia sat on the sofa facing Shasta.

With his upper body up, Shasta lifted one of the two crystal cups prepared on the table to Lipia and broke the seal on what appeared to be well aged wine.

“I swiped this from the treasury yesterday in thoughts of having it with you.”

He poured the fragrant scarlet liquid into the glass with an eye closed. The way that expression brought out his impish side was the same as it was in the past.

“Th… thank you very much, Your Excellency.”

“How many times must I tell you to refrain from that when we’re alone?”

“However, I am still in the midst of my duty.”

Lightly clicking her glass against Shasta’s as he shrugged in exasperation, she gulped down the mellow wine all at once and felt the Life exhausted over the long journey slowly recovering.

“…And, so.”

Emptying his own cup and straightening his expression, the knight commander asked at a slightly softer volume.

“What exactly was that grave affair you sent word of through your familiar?”

“Yes…”

Lipia ran her sight left and right before leaning forward. Shasta was an openhearted man, yet prudent at the same time. Multiple layers of defensive arts have been laid down this room and not even the chief of the Dark Arts Users’ Guild, that «witch», could eavesdrop. But despite that knowledge, she could not help but whisper upon considering the importance of the information she held.

Staring into Shasta’s black eyes, Lipia voiced her brief report.

“The highest minister of the Human Empire’s Axiom Church… has passed away.”

He was that Dark General, but his eyes still flashed wide open nonetheless.

A lengthy, deep breath broke the silence.

“Questioning if that is credible… would be an insult to you, wouldn’t it. I do not doubt the information, but… still… to think that immortal being would……”

“Yes… I understand what you mean. I, too, could not believe the abruptness and spent a week confirming it, but it truly appeared to be no mistake. I hid «ear bugs» in the Central Cathedral and collected the evidence.”

“My word, what a reckless act. If they had followed your art, you would have been torn from limb to limb before you could escape from the capital.”

“Indeed. But by the fact they could not detect an art on my level, too, proves the report was true.”

“…Hmm…”

Wetting his tongue on his second cup of wine, Shasta lowered his hardy face.

“When had that happened? And the cause?”

“Approximately half a year ago and…”

“Half a year. I believe that was about when the guard at the mountain range slackened for some time.”

“Yes. As for the highest minister’s cause of death… though it is somewhat hard to believe, it was said she was done in by a sword…”

“A sword. —Someone capable of cutting down that immortal being existed, you say?”

“There couldn’t be.”

Lipia shook her head towards the speechless Shasta.

“Despite what we call her, that immortal being must have had her Life exhausted. However, in order to immortalize the divinity of the highest minister, they must have resorted to such deception to…”

“Hmm… well, let’s leave it at that. But still… she truly is dead, isn’t she, Highest Minister Administrator…”

Shasta shut his eyes and crossed his arms before leaning his upper back into the sofa.

A fair bit of silence started then, but eventually, his eyelids flashed open with short words.

“It’s our chance.”

Lipia lost her breath for an instant before asking in a squeaky voice.

“For what, exactly?”

The reply was immediate.

“There is no other… but for peace, of course.”

That vocabulary too dangerous to let out from one’s mouth within this palace permeated into the room’s atmosphere and dissipated.

“Do you believe… that to be possible, Your Excellency?”

Shasta set his eyes on the crimson liquid in his glass and nodded, slowly but deeply, at Lipia who asked so in a whisper.

“Be it possible or not, we will have to make it succeed no matter what.”

Gulping down the wine, he continued.

“The Life of the «Great Gate» that had been separating the Human Empire and land of darkness since the age of creation is finally near its end. The armies of the five dark races are like a huge kettle close to boil with the invasion of the Human Empire abundant in the grace of the sunlight and earth before them. The previous Ten Lords Assembly was a huge mess, deciding how to split the land, treasures, and slaves of the Human Empire. Good grief… what incorrigible greed they have.”

Lipia lowered her face at Shasta’s frank, curt speech.

Unlike the Human Empire controlled by that lengthy code of law called the «Taboo Index», only one law existed in the land of darkness. In short—to plunder with strength.

In that sense, Shasta would be the odd one out, considering peace like the Human Empire, when compared to the nine lords whose lust for conquest burned on even after ascending to the top positions of power.

However, that peculiarity contributed to Lipia’s boundless attraction towards this man. Whatever others might say or think, Lipia was not taken against her will unlike the women waiting on the other lords. Shasta had knelt down and offered her a bouquet of flowers, persuading her with sincere words.

Showing no sign he was aware of his lover’s contemplation, Shasta continued his words in a solemn tone.

“…However, the lords think too lowly of the humans. Especially of the Order of the Integrity Knights who protected the Human Empire over three hundred years.”

Lipia nodded while feeling her head cool off gradually upon hearing that name.

“Certainly… Their mastery is to be feared.”

“Each of them is literally a match for a thousand. Despite the countless fatalities suffered by the Order of the Dark Knights throughout its long history caused by integrity knights, the opposite had never come about. Their swordsmanship is exquisite and the sacred tools they wear are without peer… Not even I had finished a single one of them off even if I have cornered them before on numerous occasions. Naturally, the times I had fled overwhelms those, however.”

“That is… due to that strange art they use to release flames and light from their swords…”

“The «armament full control art», huh. Our knight order’s art research division hadn’t arrived at the details to that even after lengthy research. Not even a hundred goblin soldiers could stand against a single use of that art.”

“That said… our forces number fifty thousand. Conversely, there are but thirty or so integrity knights. Could we not drive them down with numbers…?”

Shasta cynically raised an end of his fine moustache at Lipia’s words.

“Had I not said each of them is comparable to a thousand? By those calculations, that will be the end of thirty thousand of our troops.”

“Well, I never… to think they could take on that many.”

“It’s natural to think so. Though it does not stick well with me, a strategy with us, the knight order, as the vanguards supported by the ogres and giants, with ranged arts pouring down from the dark arts users in the back should exhaust even the integrity knights eventually. But I cannot imagine how many casualties we would suffer before the final knight falls. I will not claim that it will be thirty thousand, but half of that is a feasible figure.”

The crystal cup was placed onto the table with a firm clink.

Holding back Lipia with a hand when she tried to pour more liquor, Shasta leaned his broad back against the sofa.

“…And when all is said and done, an imbalance will naturally develop among the strength of the five dark races. The Ten Lords Assembly will lose its purpose and the agreement of equality among the five races will be naught but in name. When it comes to that, the «age of blood and iron» from a hundred years before will return. No, it will be worse. After all, the gate to the vast ocean of bottomless nectar, the Human Empire, will be open this time. The wars to sort out the authorities of rule to each land will not end even in a hundred years…”

That was what Shasta truly feared, more so than the prior issues, that worst picture of the future he lectured Lipia about time after time. And aside from Shasta, the other lords would not think of that future as the worst—instead, they might even anticipate it.

Lipia lowered her face and stared hard at the jet-black gleam from the full-body armor she was granted when she was knighted which was scratched all over yet polished thoroughly.

Lipia would have probably never made it as a knight if it was during the «age of blood and iron» due to how small she was as a child. She would have been sold as a slave or abandoned in the wilderness outside the city, ending that short life.

However, though hardly perfect, it was thanks to that peace treaty that she could enter a cadet school instead of the slave market and discover her late blooming aptitude for the sword, reaching practically the highest position a human female could hope for.

After she became a knight, she managed an institution similar to a nursery that cared for infants gathered from remote regions where slave trafficking was still rampant who were abandoned by their parents at the expense of most of her monthly wages.

She did not inform Shasta of that fact, let alone her colleagues. After all, not even she could explain why she undertook such an act either.

Still—

The instinct that this land was strange somehow for letting the strength plunder everything was always somewhere in Lipia’s mind. She lacked the wisdom to put her own uncertainties into clear words unlike Shasta, but still, she felt there was a more «ideal, correct form» that would better fit this land—no, the whole of the Underworld including the Human Empire.

Even Lipia could now recognize that that so-called new world would only arrive long after that peace Shasta advocated. Along with that, she desired to become a pillar of strength for the man she loved as a woman.

But.

“…But Your Excellency, how do you plan on persuading the other lords? Besides… will the Order of the Integrity Knights accept peace negotiations in the first place?”

Lipia asked in a subdued manner.

“…Hmm…”

Shasta shut both of his eyes and stroke his glossy moustache with his right hand. Before long, a somewhat bitter voice softly sounded out from him.

“I see potential in the integrity knights. With the highest minister’s demise, the one who picked up overall command must be old man Bercouli. Though cunning, words do get through to him. The problem would be… the Ten Lords Assembly as expected. For that… though it may be contradictory…”

Raising his eyelids, his two eyes concealing a dangerous light gazed at the air.

“—I may have to cut them down. Four of them at the very least.”

Drawing in a sharp breath, Lipia asked in trepidation.

“Four, you say… I suppose those would be the two goblin chiefs, the orc chief, and…”

“The head of the Dark Arts Users’ Guild. That woman harbors ambition to obtain the secret of Administrator’s immortality and to eventually ascend to the emperor’s throne. She would never accept any plans for peace.”

“B-But!”

Lipia wrung her rebuttal out.

“That is far too dangerous, Your Excellency! The goblin and orc chiefs are no match for you… but I cannot even begin to imagine what tricks that dark arts user would resort to!”

Shasta kept his silence for a short while even after Lipia’s mouth shut.

The words he suddenly let out, too, were utterly unexpected.

“Hey, Lipia. How long have you been by my side for?”

“Huh? Yes… e-erm… I was twenty-one… so four years?”

“So that much time had already passed. …I apologize for keeping you away for so long. How about it… it should be about time, we, well.”

He scratched his head, his sight wandering, and the dark knight commander spoke slightly brusquely.

“…Wouldn’t you officially become my bride? Though I must say sorry for being such an old man.”

“Your… Your Excellency…”

Lipia was rendered speechless with her two eyes wide open—

Some sort of heat slowly spread out from around her heart and she was about to jump across the table into the chest of the man she loved.

When a strained, shrill voice rang out from beyond the thick door.

“It’s an emergency!! A real emergency!! Aah, how could this have happened?!! Come, lords, hurry, hurry!!”

The faintly familiar voice belonged to one of the ten lords, the Economic Guild’s head.

The croaky screams which did not suit that magnanimous, well-built man in Lipia’s memories continued still.

“It’s a true emergency!! —T-The throne room! The sealing chains! They are quiveriiiiing!!”



2

Having descended into the throne room as Emperor Vector, Gabriel Miller gazed upon the artificial fluct lights kneeling at his feet, their heads lowered, feeling deeply moved with a sort of emotion.

They were quantum information from light confined within light cubes measuring two inches per side. And yet they were real humans endowed with intelligence and souls in this world. But then again, half of the ten lined up in front were monsters with bizarre appearances.

The ten generals who named themselves as «feudal lords», the knights and dark arts users, along with the fifty thousand troops stationed outside the palace were thus the units granted to Gabriel. He had to move them appropriately, exterminate the Human Empire’s defense forces, and secure «Alice».

However, unlike a real-time strategy game in the real world, these units could not be mobilized as he liked with a mouse and keyboard. He had to lead and command them with his words and behavior.

Gabriel silently stood up from the throne and gazed into a mirror affixed onto the wall behind after several steps.

Reflected was a view of himself sporting an utterly tasteless look.

His facial features and that blonde hair nearing white were all that remained of the real world’s Gabriel. However, a crown of black metal inlaid with a crimson jewel adorned his brow and he wore a luxurious fur gown, pitch-black like the suede-like shirt and trousers made from leather below it. A narrow long sword let out a hazy glow as it hung off his waist and meticulous patterns were embroidered in silver thread on his boots and gloves. In addition, on his back was a long cape dyed blood-red.

Shifting his view towards the right, he saw a knight one step down from the throne, glancing around with his hands joined together behind his head.

Inside that full-body armor, gleaming like a deep purple gem, was Vassago Casals who logged in with Gabriel. Though he warned him to refrain from getting carried over and mentioning anything unnecessary until they understood the situation, it appeared his emotions were practically bursting from his chest to be expressed in his slang as his toes clattered away.

Lightly shaking his head, Gabriel returned his eyes to himself in the mirror.

Accustomed to tailor-made suits, his body felt only unease at his get-up. However, in this «Underworld», Gabriel was no CTO of some private military company.

He was the emperor who governed the boundless Dark Territory.

And, God.

Gabriel shut both of his eyes, and then slowly took in a breath of air and let it out.

The switch in his mind to swap the role he played from a tough and cool commander to a ruthless emperor made a click.

Opening his eyes, Gabriel—the god of darkness, Vector—turned with his crimson mantle billowing and glared haughtily at the ten generals as his voice, lacking all sense of humanity, resounded through the throne room.

“Raise your heads and name yourself. —You, over there, you start.”

The well-built middle-aged man whose brow was practically scraping against the floor as he prostrated himself raised his upper body with unexpected nimbleness before stating his name in fluent Japanese.

“Y-Yess! My name is Lengyel Gira Sukovo, I serve as the leader of the Economic Guild!”

The middle-aged man bowed once more and a something giant, like a small hill, began moving beside him.

The demi-human, likely over twelve feet if it stood, who had its massive frame wreathed in crisscrossing chains shining with black luster and an animal pelt covering its waist jerked up its abnormally long nose bridge and named itself in a low tone that resembled a tremor.

“Chief of the giant race, Sigrosig.”

By the time Gabriel internalized the fact that intelligence and a soul resided within this monster as well, the third let out a hoarse voice that grated on his ears.

“…Assassins’ Guild head… Fu Za…

The one dressed in a hooded robe had a presence far too frail when compared to the one from the giant race beside, with no clear indication of even age or gender.

Though Gabriel mused over giving an order for revealing that face for an instant, he decided to leave it aside, figuring an assassin like that would have one principle or another prohibiting it, and shifted his sight to the next general.

He narrowly held back an immediate urge to frown.

The meticulous embodiment of ugliness sat down with a thud. Its legs were too short to kneel. Its swollen, round belly shone with a sheen as though greasy and what appeared like skulls of small animals dangled from its neck half-sunken into its shoulders.

The head on top was seven part pig, three part human. A flat nose protruded forward and fangs peeked from its huge mouth, but intelligence blazed in its beady eyes like a human which made it all the more repulsive.

“Chieef of the orc racee, Rirupirin.”

Upon hearing that shrill voice, Gabriel wondered whether this was actually a male or female, but immediately casted aside that curiosity this time as well. An orc would be an inferior unit. There would be no purpose keeping them around after running them ragged.

The next to bring his head up with a quick bow was young enough to be still termed a young man. His curly red hair hung down and all that was wrapped on the top half of his tanned body was a single leather belt. On the bottom were skin-tight leather trousers and sandals while rectangular, metal-studded gloves were worn on his two hands.

“Tenth champion of the Pugilists’ Guild, Iskahn!!”

Looking back at the youth who assertively shouted out, Gabriel tilted his side in confusion inside. Pugilists were effectively boxers? Would they be suitable as soldiers despite being barehanded?

He pondered and a loud growl roared out all of a sudden.

The source was a type of demi-human with a physique unlike humans, though not to the extent of the giants. Long fur engulfed nearly all of its upper body. He understood it to be real hair rather than clothing only because its head was completely that of a beast.

It closely resembled a wolf. The protruding nose bridge; those teeth lined up like a saw; and those triangular ears. A barely comprehensible voice seeped out from its mouth where its long tongue hung out.

“Grr… chief of… ogres… Fulgrr… rrr…”

Though he had no confidence whether that was its name or simply a growl, Gabriel lightly nodded and looked at the next.

An ear-splitting squeak resounded right after.

“Hagashi, chief of the mountain goblins, at your service! Your Majesty, do grant the brave warriors of our race the honor of being your shock troops!!”

It was a type of demi-human, small, with long and narrow ears stretching out from its bald head, like that of a monkey. Its height was below that of a human, let alone the giant, orc, or ogre who named themselves earlier.

According to the lecture he received from Critter’ before diving, there was only one law in this Dark Territory. In short, the strong reign. In that case, what strength allowed the goblins who appeared powerless in every sense to stand on an equal footing with the other races?

Despite how they were the weakest infantry units beneath the orcs at any rate, Gabriel peered into the mountain goblin’s face with slight interest and realized the answer to his question with a hmm. There was a vehement hunger swirling within the unsightly demi-human’s beady eyes.

Right after the chief of the mountain goblins finished its salutations, similar squeaks came from the demi-human sitting beside who differed only in skin tone.

“Outrageous! We will be ten times as useful compared to them, Your Majesty! Kubiri, chief of the plains goblins, humbly at your service!”

“What was you, you bunch of slug-eaters! Have your heads turned to mush from how sodden your lands are?!!”

“The same goes to you, have your brains dried up with the sun shining down on them?!!”

Before the noses of the two who began squabbling—

Shot out blue sparks with a crack and the goblin chiefs jumped back with shrieks.

“—If I may remind the both of you, you are before His Majesty the Emperor.”

The one who lowered her raised hand with that bewitching voice was a young woman clad in revealing clothing. The sparks flew from her fingertips as they rubbed together like the flint on a lighter.

Swaying up, she bent her hips as though to put her voluptuous body and captivating looks on display before giving a mannered bow. Even Gabriel could understand how Vassago felt, whistling softly on his right.

Her skin, the shade of café au lait and glistening as though oiled, was covered minimally with black enamel leather. She wore stiletto boots narrow as needles. A fur mantle shining black and silver was on her back and her platinum blonde hair flowed down to her waist above it.

Her eyeshadow and lipstick were light blue, and those blue eyes that were just as vivid narrowed coquettishly as she named herself.

“I am the head of the Dark Arts Users’ Guild, D.I.L. The three thousand art users under me and I devote all of our minds and bodies to you, Your Majesty.”

Though her actions and voice were charming indeed, Gabriel simply nodded coolly, unaffected by sexual urges as he was.

The witch who called herself D. blinked her eyes and apparently considered supplementing her words, but gave a silent bow before returning to kneeling.

Gabriel thought that wise as he shifted his sight to look down upon the final general unit.

The man who quietly bowed was in the prime of his life, boasting an outstanding physique for a human.

The pitch-black armor covering his entire body shone dully with countless scratches carved into it. A shallow scar could be seen running from his brow to the bridge of his nose on his lowered face.

The man let out his voice without raising his head in a grating baritone.

“Dark Knight Commander, Viksul Ur Shasta. Before I dedicate my sword to you, Your Majesty… I have a question.”

The man finally lifted his face and on it, Gabriel saw a grimness resembling those rare «true soldiers» he met before.

The knight, Shasta, stared at Gabriel with a sort of conviction in his eyes absent from the previous nine generals who named themselves while continuing in an even lower voice.

“Where do Your Majesty’s ambitions lie to return to the throne in these times?”

I see—this is certainly no mere program.

Internally considering how he ought to always keep that in mind, Gabriel replied indifferently as the ruthless emperor.

“Bloodshed and terror. Arson and destruction. Death and screams.”

The generals’ expressions drew tight the moment Gabriel’s voice streamed out, stiff like machined steel.

Looking at the ten faces in turn, Gabriel then waved his fur mantle and pointed his right arm, high, towards the western skies.

Words filled with a false desire for conquest shot from his mouth nearly autonomously.

“…The «Great Gate» that protects the western lands brimming with strength of the gods who oust’d me from the Celestial World crumbles on even now. I have return’d… to make mine authority known to all who inhabit the lands!”

He received as detailed a lecture as possible from Critter regarding the «final load test» approaching in a week’s time inside. Following those details, he continued his speech in that theatrical tone.

“The Human Empire will truly belong to us, the ones of the darkness, when the Great Gate shatters! I seek only one, she who appears in those lands then, the «goddesses medium»! I shall permit slaughter and pillage for all other humans as thine wills take you! ‘Tis the time the ones of the darkness have awaited—’tis the promis’d time!!”

The air turned still with silence—

Broken by shrill, savage roars.

“Giiiii!! Killl! White iums, kill them allllll!!”

It was the orc chief who shrieked while its feet wriggled, its beady eyes seething with lust and resentment. The goblin chiefs followed with their arms raised in unison immediately after.

“Hooooouu!! War!! War!!”

“Ura——!! War, war——!!”

The war cries spread to the other generals and the officers behind them before long. The black robes in the Assassins’ Guild swayed with their bodies as thin as sticks while the women in the Dark Arts Users’ Guild let out merry cries along with sparks of all colors.

Within the gigantic hall filled full with primitive, unrefined voices—

That knight named Shasta alone stayed kneeling without a single movement as Gabriel noticed.

He could not tell from that armored figure, still as a sculpture, whether it stemmed from militaristic restraint or some sort of emotion.





* * *



“To think you had such a talent, bro! Shouldn’t you have become an actor instead?”

Gabriel snorted in reply to Vassago who threw a bottle of wine while smirking.

“I merely did as necessary. It would be best if you learn how to give a similar speech too. You are a step above them in the hierarchy, after all.”

Popping the caught bottle’s cork off with his fingertip, he held some of the ruby-colored fluid in his mouth before considering whether that counted as drinking on duty.

As for Vassago, he downed what appeared like a top-quality antique in a manner akin to chugging down beer as though stating that it would be a waste not to drink it, and then brusquely wiped his mouth before replying.

“Rather than giving orders or speeches, I would rather lead the attack. We got this rare chance to dive into this amazing VR world and all, ya know… I can’t think of this wine or its bottle as anything but real.”

“In exchange, you’ll hurt when cut and bleed too. There is no pain absorber at work here, after all.”

“Ain’t that the good part?”

Shrugging his shoulders at the grinning Vassago, Gabriel returned the bottle to the table and stood from the sofa.

The emperor’s living quarters on the top floor of Obsidia Palace was far wider than that executive room in the headquarters of Glowgen DS and massive windows allowed an unobstructed night view of the town around the palace. Though the lights and colors paled in comparison to San Diego, it made up for that with how it was pulled out from fantasy.

The ten generals who called themselves lords have left the palace to prepare for war and the flames of the transport troops carrying out supplies from the warehouses moved through the main street without pause. The head of the Economic Guild in charge of supplies was ordered to use up all of the rations and equipment stored in the palace, so the solders should not suffer from starvation or cold.

Taking his eyes off the countless lights, Gabriel walked towards a corner of the room and touched the purple crystal pane—the system console—installed there with his hand.

Deftly running through the menu, he pressed the button to call out to external observers. The temporal acceleration rate decreased and following the odd sensation as the rates were matched, Critter’s fast speech streamed out from the screen.

“Commander!? We’ve only just sent Vassago and you off and returned to the main control room, Commander!!”

“It’s already the first night here. Though I understand, temporal acceleration is a strange thing, isn’t it? We will be proceeding as planned for the time being. The units’ preparation will be completed within a day or two and the march towards the Human Empire is scheduled to begin in two days.”

“Brilliant. Remember, once you secure «Alice» herself, bring her there and go through the ejection process for the main control room. «Alice»’s light cube will be ours then. Also, please drill this into that idiot Vassago.”

It seemed Critter’s voice reached his ears as a short curse could be heard from behind.

“As we currently have no administrator rights, we cannot reset accounts. In other words, neither you, Commander, nor Vassago can use those super accounts again once you die on that side. You’ll really have to start over as a recruit at that point, you hear!”

“Aah… understood. I will refrain from heading out to the front lines at present. Have the JSDF acted?”

“Nothing at the moment. It seems they haven’t noticed your diving in yet.”

“Good. I will cut communications, then. I will like to set our next comms to be after securing Alice.”

“Understood, I’ll look forward to that.”

With the communication window closed, the acceleration rate reverted with that sense of slight disconcertion.

Vassago was still muttering curses while fighting against the armor’s fasteners, but eventually threw all of the metallic equipment onto the floor and stood up dressed in a leather shirt and trousers.

“Ermm, bro, if I said I wanted to go play around downtown… guess it’ll be a no, wouldn’t it.”

“Hold yourself back for the time being. I’ll get you a night after the operation’s over.”

“Got it. No killing or women, huh… Then I’ll be a good boy and get some sleep. I’ll use that room.”

Vassago disappeared into the connecting bedroom with his joints creaking and Gabriel let out a breath as well and removed the jeweled crown from his forehead.

Leaving the exaggerated mantle and gown on the sofa too, he hurled the sword atop them.

In the VR games he played thus far, removing equipment would return them to the inventory, but it appeared there was no such convenient feature in this world. Living for even a month in room would render it to a dismal state at this rate, but they would set out from this palace in a couple of days and return next only to log out, after all.

Upon opening the door facing that which Vassago vanished into while unbuttoning his shirt, Gabriel—narrowed his eyes in surprise.

At the side of the grandiose bed in this bedroom which was just as enormous was a small prostrating silhouette.

He recalled ordering for no one, not even servants, to go above the palace’s throne room. How could there be any capable of disobeying a god’s orders?

Though he considered for a moment to return and take his sword, Gabriel went ahead and stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

“…Who are you.”

He curtly asked for the person’s identity.

The reply was in a slightly husky, feminine voice.

“…I was entrusted as your attendant for tonight.”

“Oh?”

Raising an eyebrow, he crossed straight through the dim bedroom towards the bed.

The two hands against the floor belonged to a young woman clad in flimsy clothing. Her ash-blue hair was bound up high and secured by an ornate ribbon. The faintly visible lines of her body revealed no presence of any sort of weapon.

“On whose orders?”

He questioned while sitting onto the glossy silk sheets and the woman replied in a hushed voice after a momentary pause.

“No… I am merely here bound by such a duty.”

“I see.”

Gabriel turned his eyes away and laid himself down onto the center of the bed with a thud.

The woman stood seconds later and silently slithered to his right.

“I beg your pardon…”

The whispering woman’s face possessed an exotic beauty that amazed even Gabriel. Though her skin was dark, there was a nobility present around her cheekbones typical of Northern Europe.

A sort of emotion came over Gabriel as he looked up at the woman who was about to gently pull away her sheer clothes and remove the ribbon binding her hair.

Could an artificial fluct light go this far?

Was even this woman incomplete as a true AI? If that was so, what heights had Alice reached in her state of completeness?

What moved Gabriel’s heart was not the woman’s act of giving up her body.

Rather—

It was that sharp knife raised up high, drawn from within the woman’s undulating hair, as his foresight told him.

Catching her right arm with ample composure, Gabriel’s other hand flashed as it nimbly gripped her slender neck and pulled it down onto the bed.

“Kh…!!”

The woman ground her teeth while continuing her struggle to force the knife forward. Her strength was more than expected, but still too little to trouble Gabriel. He sealed her movement, locking her dominant arm with his right hand and gently digging his right thumb into her windpipe.

Even as her face warped with intense pain, the determination in the woman’s ashen eyes remained unfaded. The awkwardness of the cosmetics on her ferocious expression and the state of her muscles led to doubts that she was a professional assassin. In that case, the turncoat was not the one named Fu Za who managed the assassins, but one of the other nine generals—likely one among the human generals.

Closing in to the woman’s face, Gabriel asked the same question as earlier.

“On whose orders?”

The deep, hoarse answer was the same as before.

“By my own… will.”

“Then, who is your superior?”

“……I have none.”

“Hmm.”

Gabriel pondered like a machine, without any trace of emotion.

The breakthrough «Rath» aimed for, to exceed that boundary of artificial fluct lights. That referred to the incapability to oppose law, regulations, and orders from some superior being.

Compared to the inhabitants of the Human Empire, bound by countless laws, the residents of the Dark Territory appeared to always exercise their freedom, but in reality, they differed in no way. It looked like freedom merely because the law passed down onto the fluct lights on this side numbered only one.

That law was to «plunder with strength». A world of survival of the fittest where those strong in combat rule over the weak. It seemed that even without Gabriel’s intervention, Rath planned to have the Human Empire that believed in order and the land of darkness filled with chaos clash and use the resulting war as a catalyst for their next breakthrough had their experiments proceeded.

However, by whatever reason, a fluct light that broke through that limit was born in the Human Empire before their plans proceeded to that point. There was no information regarding a similar fluct light originating from the land of darkness from the insider in Rath.

That was to say, the soul of this woman who planned to assassinate the emperor with a single knife, too, must be bound by that absolute law. Despite that, she would not reveal her master’s name even after Gabriel asked, no, ordered. If that was the case, this woman was effectively prioritizing her loyalty to her master over the orders of Gabriel, both emperor and god. In other words, she believed her master to be stronger than the emperor.

It appeared there was a need for an opportunity to properly display his might to the generals and executive units and have them acknowledge Gabriel—Emperor Vector—as the world’s strongest existence. However, he could not very well slaughter all of the generals. How could he go about it?

—No.

Either way, he had to get rid of one among the generals. The one who inspired the will for assassination in this woman.

How could he smoke that traitor out? Should he contact Critter again and have him monitor the general units from the outside? No, that would require the temporal acceleration to be set to the same as the real world and waste that precious time there.

Now then—

Processing that far in an instant, Gabriel once again stared into those eyes in the color of steel.

“Why do you seek my life? To amass wealth? A promise of territory?”

He asked without much concern. However, the immediate reply was entirely beyond his expectations.

“For justice!”

“Oh…?”

“If a war starts now, we will be set back a hundred, no, two hundred years! The time where the powerless are oppressed must not return!!”

Slight surprise came over Gabriel yet again.

Was this woman truly at the stage before that breakthrough? If that was the case, was it her master who spoke those words?

Gabriel leaned his face in and stared into her ashen eyes up close.

Determination. Loyalty. And the emotion hidden deep within……

Ah, that makes sense.

He had no further need for this woman, then. To be specific, he had no further need for this woman’s fluct light.

Gabriel abided by the judgement he passed and nonchalantly added strength to his left hand, gripping the woman’s neck, so that she would not let out any more of those meaningless words.

He could hear and feel her neck bones creaking. Silent screams left her mouth with her two eyes wide open.

Gabriel tasted a different variant of surprise even as he held her struggling limbs down tight and strangled her neck without mercy.

Was this really a virtual world? The sensation of sinews and cartilage breaking apart transmitted to his left hand stimulated his five senses more vividly than in the real world alongside the dread and pain radiating from her exposed skin.

Trembling unconsciously, he drew his left hand close on reflex.

Crack. The unknown woman’s neck bones crumbled with that dull noise.

And Gabriel saw it.

From the brow of the woman who closed her eyes tight as she endured the pain—gushed out a light shining in rainbow colors.

This was unmistakably what he saw then—the moment the young Alicia’s life ended—that soul cloud.

Gabriel opened his mouth widely in that instant and sucked in the woman’s soul without missing any of it.

Bitterness, from fear and pain.

Sourness, of chagrin and sorrow.

Succeeding those two, an indescribable divine nectar engulfed Gabriel’s tongue.

Hazy scenes flickered behind his shut eyelids.

Young children playing in the front yard of a decrepit two-story building. There were humans, goblins, and orcs. The children looked this way and charged in with their hands extended, their faces gleaming.

As that image disappeared, he then saw a man’s upper body. An embrace in his broad chest, trained to its limit, warm and firm.

[I love… you… Your Excellency……]

A voice sounded out faintly, echoed, and departed.

Even after everything faded away, Gabriel’s strong grip on the woman’s husk remained.

Marvelous. What a marvelous experiment.

Though much of his consciousness quivered in ecstasy, Gabriel inferred the logic behind the phenomenon with some of what sense he had left over.

The light cube storing the woman’s fluct light and Gabriel’s own fluct light were connected through the STL. As such, their Life, when her Life, her hit points, turned to zero, the fragments of her deallocated quantum data might have went upstream through the circuit.

However, that theory no longer mattered. He had replicated that phenomenon he spent his life seeking at last. He had tasted all of that final emotion the woman held on the verge of death—love. That was just like a heavenly nectar sprinkling onto a desolated desert.

More.

He needed more.

He needed to kill more.

Gabriel threw his body back and let loose silent, raucous laughter.





* * *



Gabriel gazed over the ten generals and their respective executives, lined up orderly and bowing low with respect once again, with satisfaction.

As ordered, they had completed the preparation for marching within two days. In a sense, these general units might be superior to those people residing on the directors’ floor in Glowgen DS’s headquarters.

He thought them fit enough to be considered complete. That ability to handle work without complaint and that loyalty. What more could one want for an AI installed on a robot for war?

That said, he had to keep in mind that the generals’ loyalty was the reason for that issue regarding artificial fluct lights that Rath was so fixated with. The great law imprinted into their souls, the strongest shall rule, was what made these ten obey the emperor, Gabriel, no, Vector. That also meant it would not be unnatural for any of them to betray the emperor the moment they develop doubt in his might.

That concern had already been realized.

The female assassin who sneaked into his bedroom two nights ago.

That woman tried to kill the most powerful, the emperor. There must have been a master she thought superior to Gabriel in her heart. That person she called «Your Excellency» in her final words. And that person was almost certainly among the ten generals lined up before his eyes.

In her eyes, her own master overpowered Emperor Vector. If that was the case, there was a high possibility this Your Excellency had not truly swore fealty to Gabriel. If he went to the battlefield with such a unit under his command, he might even be assassinated in his sleep, however slight the chance might be.

Hence, the final mission before setting out for the front lines would be to smoke out and execute this Your Excellency from among the ten.

And at the same time, the remaining nine would recognize the might of the emperor. The balance of power would be forever carved into their fluct lights.



At this point, Gabriel Miller had not considered in the slightest being beaten—losing in a one-versus-one fight—by any of the ten units under his eyes. The beliefs that the Underworld was no more than a VR world, a direct successor to games, and that the units in it were all mere NPCs were still entrenched in him.





* * *



The words of his master surfaced in Dark Knight Viksul Ur Shasta’s mind as he knelt with his head lowered. The memory was from over twenty years in the past, in the Order of the Dark Knights’s training area.

[—The master of my own died instantly with his head lopped off. My master had his chest gouged into and fell on the way back to the palace. I lost an arm, but returned alive as you can see. Not that it is anything to brag about.]

Sitting upright on the floor shining with black luster, his master showed Shasta his right arm, cleanly severed from the elbow, as he spoke. It hurt simply looking at the wound, wrapped in bandages with the blood stopped with medicine.

The one who made that wound a mere three days ago was the longtime enemy of the dark knights and the world’s strongest swordsman, or perhaps its worst monster—the Integrity Knight Commander himself, Bercouli Synthesis One.

[Do you understand what this implies, Viksul?]

At roughly twenty back then, Shasta could do nothing but to tilt his head in confusion. His master returned his severed arm into the bosom of his clothes, shut his eyes, and murmured.

[I’ve caught up, at long last.]

[Caught up—with him, you mean?]

A tinge of disbelief found itself into the young Shasta’s words. That was how overwhelming Bercouli’s swordsmanship was. The chill that struck him in the back like an ice pillar the moment he saw his master’s right arm trace a line of fresh blood as it flew up high had not disappeared even after three days.

[I will turn fifty this year. But still, I do not believe I have yet mastered how to hold the sword, let alone swing it. In all likelihood, that will remain so in the next five or ten years before I drop dead.]

His master spoke softly.

[…Our brief lives cannot possibly reach where he got after living for over two hundred years. I hate to admit it, but I had given up inside up until the moment I crossed swords with him. However, now that I had fled back with this unsightly loss, I know those were not mistakes. They weren’t for nothing… My master and the rest of the masters thus far have not continued challenging that man for nothing. —Viksul, what is the apex of swordsmanship?]

Shasta instinctively gave an answer to the sudden question.

[The «unconscious blade».]

[Yes. To unite with one’s sword through many years of training, and cut, draw, and even move without conscious thought for the sake of one slash; that is the apex of swordsmanship. I was taught so by my master and I had taught you so, too. But you see… Viksul, it was wrong. There is more. I understood that, being cut by that monster.]

A faint hue of excitement ran through his master’s aged features. Shasta, too, leaned forward without noticing while still sitting upright.

[More… you say?]

[The opposite of unconscious. A resolute conviction. The power of one’s will, Viksul.]

His master strongly waved his right arm, severed above the elbow, without warning.

[Look at it. I had cut down from the right at that point. It was a truly unconscious slash, the fastest my sword had been in my life. I must have taken the initiative over Bercouli at the start.]

[Yes… I thought so as well.]

[But, but you see. Originally, he would be on the defensive with his sword deflected by mine, but instead, he pushed mine back and cut away this arm. …Can you believe it, Viksul? His sword did not even touch mine in that moment!]

Shasta turned speechless and shook his head awkwardly.

[How… how could that…]

[It is the truth. It was almost as if the trajectory of his slash was averted by some unseen power. That was no art. Neither was it the armament full control art. I can offer no other explanation for that phenomenon. My unconscious blade was defeated by his willpower, trained up over two hundred years. He pictured the path of his sword so strongly that it became unchangeable reality!]

Shasta could not immediately trust his master’s words.

It was beyond belief that something intangible like the might of one’s willpower could repel a heavy, hard sword with its irrefutable presence.

It appeared Shasta’s master predicted his response. Abruptly straightening his sitting posture, he quietly ordered atop the floorboards shining black.

[Viksul, I shall impart upon you the final secret of the sword. —Cut me.]

[Wha… what are you saying?! You even got through that…]

With your life intact; Shasta could not help but to keep those words unsaid. There was a sudden, intense glint in his master’s eyes.

[I have to be cut down by you with our lives interconnected. Now that I have lost to him in a single strike, you do not consider me to be the strongest any longer. If I live, you cannot fight against him on equal grounds. You, too, must cut, no, kill me and stand where he… Bercouli does!!]

Finishing those words, his master stood and adopting a stance akin to wielding a sword with that missing right arm.

[Now, stand! Draw your sword, Viksul!!]



Shasta slashed his master and ended that life.

With that, he learned the meaning behind his master’s words with his body.

Sparks scattered wildly when Shasta’s sword crossed the unseen blade held in his master’s right arm—that sword named willpower—and it really did tear into his cheek, leaving behind a gash that would never disappear.

Though wet with tears and fresh blood, The young Shasta stood at the first step of the secret surpassing the «unconscious blade», the «incarnate blade».

And the years flowed on—to five years ago.

Shasta was finally challenged by the bitter enemy of the dark knights, Integrity Knight Commander Bercouli. At the age of thirty-seven, he felt his sword reach its limit.

His master returned alive at the cost of an arm, but Shasta had no intention of returning alive if he lost. After all, Shasta had made no disciples for the sake of succeeding himself. He had no desire to have some youth shoulder the fate of cutting down his or her master and being cut down by his or her disciple. He decided to sever that link stained with blood at the cost of his life.

The sword laced with all of his determination and resolution, the «power of incarnation», clashed against Bercouli’s initial strike head-on without being deflected. But Shasta had already predicted his defeat by that point. He doubted his capability to execute another slash of similar weight.

However, Bercouli laughed openly and whispered with their swords crossed.

[Your swordsmanship’s great. A sword clotted with the intent to kill could never take on my sword. Chew on that thought and come back in another five years, boy.]

And the integrity knight commander widened the distance between them before calmly taking his leave. For some reason, he could not bring himself to cut him down from behind despite how his back appeared so full of openings.

It took a long time before he understand what Bercouli implied. But now, five years later, he felt like he understood. Shasta would have likely lost in that clash if his blade was ladened with nothing but blood thirst and hatred. Though it was merely once, his strike was an equal match only because of that resolution hidden in his chest, surpassing even his murderous urges.

In other words—his gratitude towards his predecessors who passed down techniques at the cost of their lives and his prayers for the youth succeeding himself.

That was why Shasta decided to begin negotiations for peace immediately after receiving news of the highest minister’s death. He had the confidence that Bercouli would definitely accept such a proposal.

For the same reason—

He had to personally take the head of Emperor Vector who descended onto Obsidia Palace all of a sudden with that tyrannical decision to initiate war.

Even as he knelt with his head lowered, Shasta refined the willpower to be set on the blade certain to take his life.

The emperor, revived after going missing for hundreds of years, was a young man with pale skin and blonde hair just like a human of the Human Empire. Neither his physique nor his features demonstrated much power either.

However, only those two eyes of the emperor, too vividly blue, showed him to be no commoner. There was nothing in them. They were bottomless voids, sucking in all light. This man was hiding some vile craving.

If the emperor’s void were to absorb his refined power of incarnation entirely, his sword would not reach.

Dark General Shasta will probably die then. However, his intentions should be inherited by those succeeding him.

His only lingering regret was that he could not convey his decision to Lipia as she did not show up at his room last night. Was she worked to the bone with her duties for the departure, or perhaps making an appearance at her precious «home»?

If he had revealed his plan to cut the emperor to her, she might have had insisted on accompanying him. Hence, this might have been for the best.

Shasta slowly drew in a breath and held it.

Lowering his waist, he softly touched his cherished sword left on the floor with the fingertips on his left hand.

There were fifteen mel to the throne. Two steps to reach.

None must know of his initial movement. He must draw unconsciously.

He poured the power of incarnation, sharpened to its limit, into his sword from his fingers. And he became air.

His left hand grabbed at the sword’s sheath——

But before he could.

The emperor casually spoke in his hard and smooth voice that resembled glass.

“Incidentally, a person sneak’d into my bedroom the night before last. With hair hiding a knife.”

Hushed astonishment rocked the air in the great hall.

Among the nine lords lined up to Shasta’s left, one gulped softly, another groaned deeply from the throat, and yet another shrank into that thick robe. Several cries of surprise were raised from the line of executives held at the back as well.

Shasta, too, was struck by shock. He went through his thoughts in an instant, his posture still ready to go forth and cut.

Another came to the conclusion that the emperor should be eliminated. It must have, unfortunately, been a failure judging from how the emperor was unharmed—but just who among the nine called for the assassination?

It would not be the five demi-human lords. Even the smaller goblin races could not possibly sneak past the guards’ eyes into the top floor, let alone the giants, ogres, and orcs.

If he were to look towards the four human lords, he could first eliminate the head of the pugilists, the young Iskahn and the Economic Guild’s head, Lengyel. Iskahn was an impulsive and straightforward youngster with the sole aim of mastering bare fist combat techniques and Lengyel would only start a war if it made him a tidy sum.

Seeing if the culprit had sneaked into that bedroom, the head of the Assassins’ Guild, Fu Za, would be most fishy and in truth, he could not understand what went through that man’s mind, but that man would never use a knife.

What the Assassins’ Guild researched in earnest at the bottom of their dark pit was neither arts nor swordsmanship, but a third power: poison. Those blessed in neither arts usage authority nor weapon wielding authority banded together to live on, forming Fu Za’s tribe. They follow a standard methodology with their weapons limited to needles coated in poison, concealed or shot from blowpipes. Knives were not included.

By the same reasoning, he also had to exclude the head of the dark arts users kneeling directly on his left, D.I.L. As ambition embodied, the woman seemed likely to consider taking the emperor’s head and climbing straight up to rule over the Dark Empire, but assassins from D. should use arts instead of knives.

However, that would mean none among the nine lords called for the assassination.

The one and only remaining was Dark Knight Commander Shasta himself.

But of course, he had no recollection of doing so. He had decided to eliminate the emperor only by his own sword, staking his life on it. Forget ordering his subordinates for an assassination, he had not talked about his hidden determination even once—

No.

No…

She could not have.

Reaching that point in his thought in the span of a blink after the emperor spoke of the assassin, Shasta felt his left hand in contact with his sword’s scabbard turn increasingly chilly.

His refined power of incarnation transformed in no time at all. To suspicion. To unease. To dread. And, to an ominous certainty.

At almost the same time, Emperor Vector continued to the latter half of his words.

“I intend not to flush out the one who sent that assassin. I applaud that spirit of exercising power to gain more. Thou art welcome to come at me whenever if thou desire mine head.”

Glaring haughtily over the great hall immersed in a low clamor once more, the emperor expressed what could be considered emotion for the first time with that pale face—

“Naturally, I request thou prepare ample compensation for such a wager. For example… this.”

Pulling his hand from his pitch-black long clothes, he nonchalantly made a signal.

And with that, the door made in the wall to the east of Shasta, beside the throne, silently opened and a servant girl slowly walked in. A large silver tray, carefully held up by her two hands, had something rectangular placed on it, but the black cloth covering it obscured its identity.

The servant placed the silver tray before the throne, reverentially lowered her head to the emperor, and left the room through the door once more.

In the silence strained thin, Emperor Vector reached out with the toes of his boots, his lips in a somehow warped smile, and swept off the cloth covering the silver tray as through trampling on it.

What Shasta, his entire being frozen, saw with his two eyes—

Was a clear ice cube, faintly blue.

And sealed within it, never to wake again, was the face of the woman he loved.

“Li… pi…”

-a. Shasta silently mouthed her name.

An endless, dark sensation of nihility filled his chest, erasing even the chill that engulfed his body.

Shasta knew of the orphanage Dark Knight Lipia Zankale secretly managed. He thought he saw hope for the future in Lipia’s act of protecting and raising the children who awaited only a death in the wilderness, their relatives lost, regardless of their race.

That was why Shasta spoke of his ideals only to Lipia. That boundless dream where the constant war with the Human Empire ended and they joined hands for a world shared rather than fought over.

However, that ended up leading to Lipia’s assassination of the emperor and the consequential reveal of that tragic form. Though the emperor was the one who murdered her—Shasta, too, did so. He was sure of that.

An immense tempest of regret and self-condemnation blew through Shasta’s hollow chest, concentrated into a brief moment.

It took no time at all for that to transform into a single dark emotion.

blood thirst.

Kill. He would kill that man sitting on the throne with his legs crossed, that faint smile on his face, whatever it took.

Even if he had to give up on his life and the future of the Dark Territory hereafter.





* * *



Now then, which would turn out to be the problem?

With slight interest, Gabriel gazed over the ten leader units kneeling under his eyes.

The female assassin loved her master from the bottom of her heart. Having drank in that emotion that resembled some nectar of the gods, released on her death, Gabriel understood not just her yearning, but even the nature of the love her master showed her—though merely as organized data.

Hence, he knew that person she called Your Excellency would definitely make a move if he displayed her head. He would execute that traitor unit pointing a blade towards him without mercy and heighten the remaining units’ loyalties with fear. Like in those simulation games he played in his spare time in the real world.

What a deplorable and delightful bunch.

Limited in intelligence despite possessing proper souls and on top of that, infinitely replenishable no matter how many he slaughtered. The day the Underworld fell into his hands, both its mainframe and its light cubes, would certainly be when he satiates that hunger tormenting him since his childhood.

Placing a cheek against the arm he rested on the throne’s armrest, Gabriel waited, relaxed.

There was a whole fifteen meters from the units. He could face off an attack from any weapon with the sword equipped on the left of his waist without issue.

Of course, that was not enough against attacks ranging from system calls to commands. However, Gabriel’s insecurities were wiped away before he logged in.

The super account, «Dark God Vector», was set up for Rath’s staff to forcibly intervene with the Dark Territory. As such, the HP known as Life was enormous, the equipped sword was the strongest, and above all, Vector held the rule-breaking trait of being unselectable for all sorts of commands from others.

Protected by all of those conditions,

Gabriel understood not, protected by all of those conditions, even as the knight in pitch-black armor sitting at the left end of the ten units curled up his back.

He understood not, even as a faint shadow-like aura enveloped that entire body.

Not even when the knight grabbed the sheathed sword on the floor with his left hand at the speed of lightning, head leaping up with that, and showed the two eyes centered among those masculine features releasing crimson light that would not belong on any human—

Did Gabriel understand at all what was happening.

He did not understand this world, while being a program running on a physical server, was «grounded in reality» constructed by quantum bits the same as humans’ fluct lights.

He did not understand that as such, the pure yet intense blood thirst originating from the dark knight could reach the STL Gabriel was hooked up to from his light cube, through the main visualizer and the quantum transmission lines.





* * *



Shasta recognized only the emperor in the middle of his sight soaked in the shade of blood.

His right arm moved faster than it ever had, and drew.

What was released from the scabbard, was not the familiar grey blade of the sacred tool inherited from his master, the tachi, «Oborogasumi». As its name suggested, thick mist resembling night fog surrounded its extremely long blade and twisted into a swirl.

Though Shasta did not notice that the logic behind the phenomenon was identical to the integrity knight’s ultimate technique, the armament full control art, inexplicable even after long years of research, that no longer mattered to him.

“Kill!!”

Shasta swung his beloved sword, carrying all of his anger, hatred, and sorrow, with a fleeting scream.



3

From the northern tip of the Human Empire to the ends of its eastern region.

This would be the first time Integrity Knight Alice and Amayori, born in the western empire, visited the eastern empire, Eastabarieth, a land most mysterious even among the four empires.

Rivers, blue as lapis lazuli, flowed swiftly through the gaps between jutting, strangely-shaped rocks under her eyes. The towns and villages near the bank sometimes appeared to be mainly built from lumber rather than stone like the familiar northern side.

Most of those who looked up into the sky and pointed had black hair. The recollection that Deputy Knight Commander Fanatio, whom she simply could not get along with, was born here suddenly sprang into her mind.

Returning her gaze forward, Alice saw Kirito, blankly gazing at the sky while leaning against her as she grasped the reins, had pitch-black hair as well, and considered the possibility that he could have been born here and might regain his mind if she descended into town and let him come into contact with the people; however, she currently had the need to reach her destination even a second faster.

It was the third day of their rushed journey, camping in remote places away from the population at night, and having the fish Amayori caught along with the dried fruits they carried for meals—

In the noon of the eleventh month’s second day, the mountain range at the edge, whose appearance alone remained unchanged from its view at the northern side, appeared before them with a gorge made with vertical cuts so straight it could only be the work of the gods.

“…You can see it now, Kirito.”

Alice murmured and gently caressed the nape of her cherished dragon whom she had forced on this long journey while carrying a heavy load. Though the flying dragons boasted of the highest Life among all living beings now that most of the magical beasts have disappeared, it must have still been a major undertaking to fly while burdened with two humans and three sacred tools. It seemed she had almost exhausted the energy she stored up by living on a lavish diet of fish for half a year.

Upon snapping the reins while thinking to, at the very least, feed her plenty of her favorite boiled mutton once they reached the camp site, Amayori responded with a voice that revealed no sense of fatigue and strongly flapped her wings.

Though the gorge appeared like a narrow gap from afar, she noticed it was nothing that simple as they approached.

The valley likely reached about a hundred mel in width. Wide enough for a large army of orcs and ogres to march in rank.

At the grasslands that spread out, as though to envelop the whole entrance to the valley that pierced right through the mountain, countless white tents were lined up systematically, forming a large camp site. Smoke from cooking rose from one place or another while the soldiers were training on the outskirts. The gleam from the swords they swung and the spirit they exuded reached even the skies.

Though morale was not as low as she had worried, the number of troops was still despairingly low. A brief scan showed the total to be less than even three thousand. On the other hand, the invading army from the Dark Territory was no less than fifty thousand. Despite how only a miniscule percentage became soldiers or guards when bestowed such sacred tasks in the Human Empire, everyone who could fight, regardless of age or gender, was made a soldier beyond the mountain range.

Alice doubted anything about this situation would change with just the addition of herself. What kinds of strategies for defense did Knight Commander Bercouli have in mind…?

Alice first flew over the camp site in her contemplation and led her flying dragon towards the gorge sunken in dim darkness.

“I am sorry, Amayori, please fly on for a little more.”

She called out so and the dragon responded with a kururuu immediately before the light of Solus was obstructed by the mountain mass.

A chill that made her shiver enveloped her the moment they entered the gorge. The walls of rock on the left and right rose so smoothly, she truly believed the gods must have done it. She saw absolutely no vegetation, let alone wildlife.

After continuing to fly while decelerating for several minutes—

A ridiculously large structure finally showed itself before the lingering mist.

“This is… the «Great East Gate»……?”

The grey gate that rose up vertically likely measured at least three hundred mel tall. Though lower than the Axiom Church’s Central Cathedral that reached five hundred mel, it was no less intimidating.

Most shocking was how it was carved from a single slab of stone, leaving no seam at all between the left and right gates. She thought such a feat was impossible to produce even by sacred arts, let alone by human hands. Though the greatest structures the highest minister, Administrator, brought forth were the «immortal walls» splitting Central Capital Centoria into four, each of those connecting walls was far smaller than these doors.

This great gate was placed here by the gods when the world began. In order to divide the Human Empire and the land of darkness—and to bring about tragedy three hundred and several tens of years later.

“Stop, Amayori.”

The flying dragon halted in the air and Alice looked up at the gate again from up close.

Something was written in sacred script around two hundred mel above ground where stone slabs forming the left and right gates joined.

“Destruct… at… the last stage…”

Though she managed to sound out one line among many, she did not understand its meaning.

It was when she tilted her head. A tremendous shattering noise suddenly shook the air and shocked both Alice and Amayori. Stroking the dragon’s nape, she stared hard and saw a thin crack carved into the gate, like a flashing of jet-black lightning, which was smooth just a moment earlier.

The crack which extended for tens of mel stopped at last and several rocks peeled off from around it, vanishing into the bottom of the valley far below.

Raising her head, she once again focused on the giant gate. She then noticed that cracks had run across almost the entire flat stone slab like stitches.

Lightly swinging the reins, Alice went as close to the gate astride her dragon as she could.

Delicately stretching out her left hand and quickly drawing Stacia’s seal in midair, she softly knocked against the gate’s surface.

The Great Eastern Gate’s maximum and current Life were recorded on the purple «window» that floated out.

The number on the left was the largest even among the many Life values she had witnessed—an enormous value above three million. However, the number shown on the right was not even a thousandth of that at 2985. While staring at that dumbfounded, she saw the current value decrease by one before her eyes.

Alice counted the time until the number dropped again while sweat formed on her palm. And she estimated how long it would take for its Life to fully run out.

“…It couldn’t…”

Unable to believe the answer her own head derived, Alice muttered.

“…Five days… there are only five days left……?”

The Great Gate that solemnly divided the two worlds for over three hundred years would crumble in merely five days—could that actually happen?

Selka’s brilliant smile, the elderly Garitta’s wrinkled face, and the sullen face belonging to her father, Gasupht, passed through her mind one after another. Mere days had passed since she drove away the goblins assaulting them and sealed the cave with ice. She had believed Rulid would stay peaceful for the time being with that.

If the Great Gate were to collapse in five days and the defense army was unable to hold up to the advancing forces of darkness, the Human Empire will be flooded with monsters thirsting for blood. The waves would reach the northern region before long and swallow up Rulid Village.

“I have… I have to do something…”

Alice unconsciously drew the reins closer while muttering incoherently. Separating from the Great Gate on the verge of collapsing, Amayori ascended with a slow flap of her wings.

Upon reaching the top of the gate, towering three hundred mel tall, she hovered once more.

The gorge splitting the mountain range extended straight beyond the gate just like on the side of the Human Empire. However, it was not blue skies and verdant grasslands that stretched out there, but skies dyed in the shade of blood and the Dark Territory’s wastelands that appeared sprinkled with cinders.

Tearing her eyes from the ominous scene, Alice abruptly squinted.

She saw light flickering on the barely visible blackened earth.

Making Amayori ascend further, she focused her eyes. There were more than a single light. Though irregularly arranged, they extended on as far as she could see.

Those were campfires.

It was a camp site. The vanguards for the forces of darkness were lying in wait in great numbers right before her eyes. Awaiting that moment the gate crumbles and opens the path to the Human Empire.

“Another… five days…”

Alice hoarsely muttered once more.

Her flying dragon turned about immediately after. She thought she would be swallowed by uneasiness and cut down by a single enemy line if she continued staring into the legion of camp fires.

Even so, she held confidence she could slaughter one or two hundred of their infantry if they consisted of goblins or orcs. However, it would not be as simple if there was a battalion of ogre archers or dark arts users in the enemy line.

Even if the integrity knights could match a thousand, that power came solely from each of them. They would not get out unscathed if ranged attacks were concentrated on them beyond where their swords and arts could reach and even minor wounds could rob them of all their Life when accumulated. That was the exact, greatest weakness of the Order of the Integrity Knights—and consequently, the defense of the Human Empire—that Knight Commander Bercouli feared throughout his many years.

The highest minister, Administrator, where all of their war potential went, was already deceased and the mountain of equipment hoarded in the cathedral had already been distributed to the defense army. However, there was far too little time left. If they had at least ten thousand troops, or a year of preparation—

Shaking away her futile thoughts with a sigh, Alice issued Amayori instructions to descend.



The meadow in the middle of the defense army’s camp site was vastly vacated. Seeing as there was a gigantic tent beside it, that was unmistakably the landing field for flying dragons.

Descending in an arc, Amayori turned her long neck towards the tent with her four talons barely touching the green undergrowth and sounded out a fawning kururuu from her throat.

A slightly deeper voice immediately replied. It must be her brother, Takiguri. Alice leapt down onto the meadow while carrying Kirito the moment the dragon came to a stop and detached the heavy luggage from her two feet. Amayori stampeded towards the tent the moment she was done and rubbed her head against her brother’s which peeked out from under the thick cloth.

Though it made Alice smile unwittingly, she noticed footsteps approaching from behind and straightened her expression in a fluster. Putting the hem of her plain skirt in order, she swept her hair, disheveled by the wind, behind her back.

A familiar man’s voice rang through the landing field before she could turn back.

“Master! My master, Alice-sama!! I believed in you!!”

Slipping around in front of her while sliding over the grass was the integrity knight she shared a parting drink with just ten days ago, Eldrie Synthesis Thirty-one. Despite being in a camp, there was not even a speck on his undulating light purple hair or his silver armor.

“…Looks like you have been well.”

Eldrie was overcome with emotion and about to reply, undaunted by Alice’s blunt reply, but his lips came to a sudden stop.

He noticed the black-haired young man supported in Alice’s left arm.

With a side of his cheek stiffening, the young knight threw his head back greatly and groaned as though in disbelief.

“You brought him… haven’t you? Why?”

Alice, too, held her head as high as she could and replied.

“Naturally. I swore to protect him.”

“S-Still… we integrity knights must stand as the vanguards when battle begins. What are your intentions when crossing swords with the enemies? You could not possibly be thinking of carrying him while doing so?”

“I shall, should the need arise.”

Alice pulled back her right foot slightly as though hiding Kirito’s gaunt body, unable to stand on his own, from Eldrie’s eyes. However, small groups of the resting soldiers and lower ranking integrity knights around the landing field had gathered before long and turned gazes of suspicion on Alice and Kirito who stood close together.

Eldrie released a sharp rebuttal, eclipsing the waves of chatter.

“You must not, master! With all due respect, allow me to state that fighting while ladened with that useless burden might not only halve your capability with the sword, but also expose yourself to danger! With regards to the looming battle, Alice-sama…”

Cutting off his words for a moment, he pointed at the surrounding soldiers with his dazzling silver gauntlet.

“…Has the responsibility of leading them into battle! You must be able to display your full might!”

It was sound. However, she could not simply accept it. Alice firmly grinded her molars and searched for the words to explain how she felt them both to be just as important—both fighting for the Human Empire and protecting Kirito.

At the same time, she felt some surprise at her disciple’s fervent speech.

He showed clear change since the time before when Alice taught him the sword in the Central Cathedral. Eldrie then practically worshipped Alice and would never talk back no matter what she said. The mysterious «gods of the outside world» had applied a seal in the right eye of every human in this world and made them utterly unable to oppose the law or those superior. As far as Alice knew, the only ones who broke that seal were the now-deceased Blue Rose swordsman, Eugeo, and she herself. Not even the two who boasted of authority equal to the gods, the highest minister, Administrator, and the sage, Cardinal, were able to oppose that seal in the end.

Eldrie must be still under the influence of that seal. Despite that, he had escaped from his previous blind obedience—though it might not be too clear if he was truly opposing Alice’s words. He had his own thoughts and expressed his own opinions.

The one who brought about that change was likely Kirito. And Eugeo.

Eldrie’s soul must have greatly agitated by those two, the world’s greatest rebels and proud swordsmen, despite their brief encounter.

Now that she thought about it, her little sister, Selka, who lived in Rulid showed displeasure for the village’s unchanging laws and the stubbornness of those who held power. There were also the two female students who ran out when Alice arrested Kirito and Eugeo from the North Centoria Sword Mastery Academy. It would have been usually impossible for such young girls to call for an integrity knight to halt.

And of course—there was Alice herself.

Until the time she crossed swords with Kirito and fell to the walls outside the cathedral with him, she held no doubts at all about the structure of the world, the rule of the church, and the divinity of the highest minister.

However, throughout their reluctant cooperation to escape the crisis, their truce, and their climb up the outer walls, Kirito had continuously aggravated Alice with his words, his sword, and those jet-black eyes—finally resulting in her breaking the seal on her right eye…

Yes, Kirito was like a hammer that swung down onto this world filled with false harmony. Shaking and jolting the world with the power concealed in his soul, he finally broke away that ancient nail embedded in the Human Empire’s heart known as the Axiom Church. However, his best friend, Eugeo, and the guru, Cardinal, had lost their lives in return while he lost his mind…

Alice hugged the fragile body supported on her left arm closer. And she looked straight back towards Eldrie’s two eyes.

She wanted to tell him. You are only as you are now because you fought with this man. However, he would never understand. To the Order of the Integrity Knights, Kirito was still no more than an unforgivable traitor.

With an expression like enduring some dull pain, Eldrie was about to hurl more words at Alice who stood stock still in silence.

That was when it happened. A part of the surrounding crowd split apart as though pushed aside by some giant’s hand.

The voice that reached Alice from beyond the crowd was nostalgic enough to render her to tears yet created a sense of tension that was almost painful.

“Now, no need for your temper, Eldrie.”

Taking her sight off the young knight who straightened up in a hurry, Alice slowly turned about and saw who the voice belonged to.

Those loose clothes in the style of the eastern region which were folded in front. That wide band tied at a low position. That rustic long sword crudely stuck in at the left of his waist. That strange footwear slipped on his feet.

The equipment was far lighter than that of the knights and soldiers around him. However, the pressure exuding from his body, forged to the limit, was denser and heavier than any armor.

Roughly stroking the pale blue hair cut short that went well with his clothes, the owner of the voice formed a grin with his mouth.

“Yo, lil’ miss. Glad you look better than I thought you would be. Put some on weight around your face?”

“…Esteemed uncle. It has been a while.”

Desperately holding back her tears, Alice bowed to the world’s oldest and strongest swordsman—Integrity Knight Commander Bercouli Synthesis One.

In the six years she lived as an integrity knight, he was the one person Alice had allowed in her heart, respected as a master, and adored as a father. At the same time, he was the only swordsman—aside from Kirito—she could never defeat in this world.

Thus, she must not show a face covered in tears now.

If Bercouli denied her from having Kirito here, she had to obey. Of course, Alice now had the ability to go against his orders. However, opposing him in front of everyone would shake the order between the Order and the Defense Army. With the decisive battle looming in merely five days, she must not put even a hairline crack into Bercouli’s authority of command.

As though seeing through Alice’s conflicts, Bercouli slowly approached while revealing a smile filled with rustic gentleness.

He first stared into Alice’s eyes and nodded strongly.

And after holding back Eldrie, who seemed like he wanted to put in a word, with a glance, the knight commander turned his look towards Kirito, held in Alice’s arm.

His lips tensed up. A light resembling bluish-white flames dwelled in his keen eyes.

Bercouli drew in a long breath. Alice felt the air around freeze up, bit by bit.

“…Esteemed uncle…”

Alice forced out her inaudible voice.

Bercouli was sharpening his spirit as a swordsman. He was about to release that «incarnation technique» imparted only the integrity knights… the secret technique that surpassed the «incarnation arm», capable of moving objects with the strength of one’s mind, the «incarnation blade».

The focused power of incarnation was set onto a sword and released. That unseen blade could sometimes even repel a tangible enemy’s blade. The armament full control art of the sacred tool the knight commander held, the «Time Piercing Sword», only first came into existence due to his overwhelming power of incarnation.

In other words—Bercouli was trying to cut Kirito.

She could never accept it if he was trying to settle this problem by literally cutting it into two. If things came to that, she would protect Kirito even if she had to draw her sword.

Overwhelmed by the knight commander’s intense spirit, the surrounding soldiers, Eldrie, and even the flying dragons in the tent sank into silence. With her breath unsteady in the heavy, condensed air, Alice desperately tried to move the fingers on her right hand.

However, just before Alice touched her precious sword, Bercouli’s mouth moved slightly and she heard words that seemed like they came from his thoughts.

—Relax, lil’ miss.

“…!?”

It happened the instant when Alice caught her breath.

Without moving in the slightest, Bercouli’s two eyes let out a dreadful light.

At the same time, Kirito’s body shook violently within Alice’s arm.

Kin! A loud noise rang out and a silver flash burst out in the air between Bercouli and Kirito.

—What was that!?

Though Alice gasped softly from shock, Bercouli had already broken into a wide smile by then as though that spirit earlier was an illusion.

“Esteemed… uncle…?”

The knight commander rubbed his chin and spoke to Alice who murmured in a daze as though some practice had just ended.

“Lil’ miss, did you see that?”

“Ye… yes. Though it was only for a brief instant… there was the glint from swords…?”

“Indeed. I fired an incarnation blade, no, dagger at that young man. If it hit, it would have cut into his skin on a cheek.”

“If… it hit? You mean…”

“That’s right. He took it on. That young man, with his own will.”

Alice could not help but peek into Kirito’s face as she supported him on her left arm.

However, her hopes were immediately dashed. She saw nothing more than a hollow darkness in his faintly open black eyes. His expression was completely lacking as usual.

—Still, his body certainly shook earlier.

Alice caressed Kirito’s hair with her right hand while turning to look at Bercouli. Though he shook his head, the knight commander still gave his judgment in clear words.

“Looks like his heart isn’t here… But he’s not dead. Listen, that boy tried to protect you instead of himself just now, lil’ miss. So he’ll be back. I believe so. Probably when you need him the most.”

Alice struggled even harder than before to hold back her tears that threatened to flow.

—Yes, he will return for sure.

—After all, Kirito, Kirito truly is the world’s strongest swordsman. He even defeated her, close to the realm of gods, by swinging those two swords.

—I won’t… say it is my sake. But please return, for the many people living in this world…

Unable to hold herself back any longer, Alice hugged Kirito tight with both arms. The knight commander’s admonishing voice brushed softly against her back.

“It’s as you see, Eldrie. Don’t mind something so trivial, we can look after one young man at least.”

“…But… but still…”

Showing remarkable mettle, Eldrie the newest integrity knight expressed his thoughts to Bercouli the oldest knight.

“I can understand if he adds to our war potential even in the slightest, but as he is… besides, even if he regains his senses, how much can a student’s sword…”

“Oh, c’mon.”

Bercouli’s voice carried a keen edge equivalent to that of some renowned sword with that gentle smile.

“Have you forgotten? The partner of this boy won against me. Against Integrity Knight Commander Bercouli Synthesis One.”

The surroundings instantly fall silent.

“That boy called Eugeo… he was strong, absurdly so. I even used the Time Piercing Sword’s full control art. And I still lost. Like you, Deusolbert, and Fanatio did.”

It appeared Eldrie found no words to respond to that. That was only natural; there could be none among the Order of the Integrity Knights or those beyond the Great Gate in the Dark Territory capable of defeating Bercouli in a one-versus-one—or so everyone in the Axiom Church believed.

However, was that proclamation not too hazardous?

Knight Commander Bercouli had hurriedly constructed the Defense Army through the dignity of him being the strongest. If everyone knew of Eugeo’s existence as a swordsman who defeated him—and that Kirito held just as much power…

It was when Alice thought that far and looked up.

Bercouli had glanced up towards the skies as though impelled to do so.

“Esteemed… uncle…?”

The knight commander replied to Alice’s question with words she never could have expected.

“In a place far, far away, a swordsman’s immense spirit intensified, and then vanished… Someone I knew is dead…”



4

The ten lords of the land of darkness’s Ten Lords Assembly bore no resemblance to each other, be it in nature, personality, or the ambitions they tucked away inside, but still, they happened to be perfectly synchronized in one point.

That would be how they understood that one law, «strength rules over all else», more so than any other.

Rather, it could be said that the law was carved onto their souls since childhood and it was only due to their constant hard work—be it training themselves or eliminating any who interfered—that they stood at nearly the top of this world where blood was washed away with more blood.

And so.

None among the nine lords lined up with Shasta were genuinely shocked when the dark knight commander turned to the emperor and drew his sword with the fervor behind that scream.

Instead, many sympathized with “You’re doing it now?” or “How daring”. Even the chiefs of the orcs and ogres whose linguistic ability, or intelligence, had been degenerating for three hundred years showed sharp glints in their beastlike eyes in anticipation of finding out how strong the emperor could be. The young chief of the pugilists, too, internally cheered Shasta on, to cut him down now that he had drawn his sword, out of respect for a peer seeking enlightenment.

Two among them predicted this state of affairs seconds earlier.

One was the head of the Dark Arts Users’ Guild, D.I.L. A fierce detractor to Shasta, the woman had planned to kidnap the dark general’s lover and had prior knowledge of Lipia’s face.

Hence, her shock was instead more pronounced when she saw Lipia’s hewn head frozen in ice. Predicting Shasta might draw his sword out of rage, she swiftly pondered over how to act if that occurred.

Though she considered having the emperor owe her a favor by firing an art into Shasta’s back, she chose the role of a spectator in the end. All would be well if Shasta lost to the emperor and even in the strange case he won, that would be when she would roast her bitter enemy, likely covered in severe wounds, black and hold supremacy over the land of darkness. Inside, D. chuckled while licking her lips to conceal her excitement.

And the last who surmised the dark general’s insurgency was yet another—

This one made a move at once.





* * *



With only that one word, “kill”, in his heart, Shasta swung his cherished sword down, hard.

The degree of incarnation augmenting his tachi alone certainly surpassed that time he crossed swords with Integrity Knight Commander Bercouli. The intensity of his wrath and grief weighed enough to instantaneously induce the full control phenomenon that originally required a lengthy incantation.

The tachi Shasta wielded in his hand, «Oborogasumi» was an object on the class of sacred tools procedurally generated by the Underworld, a VRMMO package, roughly two hundred years ago. Its element was «water» and its blade, responding to Shasta’s overwhelming blood thirst, had lost its substance and transformed into a mist while keeping its deadly might.

The special quality of Oborogasumi in full control mode was to bypass the attacking process for all types of swords, «to deal damage by cutting or piercing the target with the sword». All who came in contact with the long, extending mist would suffer slashing-type damage to their Life. In other words, there was no method to defend against it but to evade.

The emperor, Gabriel Miller, drew the sword on his waist as well when Shasta did in order to repel the enemy’s strike.

If the situation had proceeded, Shasta’s blade of mist would slip past Gabriel’s sword and reach him, pouring his concentrated bloodlust into him.

However, that happened when he stepped forth at the speed of gods to deliver the critical slash.

Shasta’s movement ceased as though frozen.

A single throwing needle had buried itself deep into a trifling seam on the left side of the dark general’s armor without notice.

Swaying onto his feet behind was a man as gaunt as a ghost clad entirely in a deep grey robe.

Head of the Assassins’ Guild, Fu Za. Bearing hardly any presence even as one of the ten lords, the inconspicuous man who barely spoke even in the meetings smoothly moved forward while attracting more attention than ever before.

Fu Za inferred Shasta’s rebellion in advance only because he was more of a coward and bundle of nerves than any of the other lords.

The Assassins’ Guild was a mixed gathering of the powerless. It was a group, made by those born without blessings of strength, aptitude, assets, or any sort of power yet refused to live exploited as slaves, to refine their «poison techniques» loathed even in the Dark Territory.

Venomous objects such as some of the insects, snakes, and plants in the Underworld were originally placed as part of the load test. As such, their effectiveness was limited to a level that could be recovered from if the inhabitants utilized the necessary knowledge. Conversely, it could never reach the power of arts and swordsmanship.

However, those who formed the Assassins’ Guild went beyond Rath’s expectation and worked out the techniques to «concentrate», spending many years to produce and strengthen venom. The guild’s headquarters located underground in the town’s slums had large kettles concentrating the sap of poisonous fruits, pots of venomous snakes gathered from various areas cannibalizing each other, and such prepared over more than a hundred years.

However, the long-awaited completion of the «fatal poison» brought forth tragedy within the guild with widespread assassinations. Unlike with swords and arts, identifying the perpetrator of slow-acting poisons was difficult.

Naturally, the one leading the guild would never survive without utmost cowardice. To the extent of lurking into the glances of those around, no, beyond that, into the meaning for those glances to sense even the most insignificant budding desire to murder.

To Fu Za, the blood thirst Shasta emitted the moment he saw Lipia’s head smelled more distinctively than the stench of fresh blood.

And also to Fu Za, the dark general, Shasta, was a being more detestable than any other.

He had constructed and abandoned countless assassination plans. He had the confidence he could kill him. But if the cause of death was revealed to be poison, all would realize it was the work of the Assassins’ Guild. The peerless Order of the Dark Knights would probably charge into the guild’s headquarters and slaughter everyone an hour after Shasta breathed his last. They had no chance at a frontal assault.

However, if it was done now, in this instant.

There was a just cause for stabbing a needle covered in concentrated poison into the body of his sworn enemy. The moment he drew his sword before the emperor, Shasta was no longer the dark general or among the ten lords, but a mere traitor.

What Fu Za pulled out and threw from his robe’s pocket was an assassination tool passed down through the Assassins’ Guild heads. Known as «Lubellr Venomsteel», it was carved into an extremely thin needle from a dangerous mineral that secreted paralyzing venom and could store any sort of venom in its hollowed interior.

Injected into him was the quintessence of the guild as well, a lethal poison. It was only after mashing fifty thousand leeches, from a rare breed called «Jigsarvil», then filtering and concentrating the result, time after time, that just a single drop of venom could be produced. As all attempts to cultivate the leeches through breeding had failed, an absurd amount of effort was necessary to produce a single drop of this venom.

Fu Za could not have known, but the animals inhabiting the Underworld’s fields were generated by the system based on specific values for each area, so aside from exceptions designated as livestock like sheep and cows, none of them could be artificially bred.

In other words, it would be no exaggeration to say the poison needle Fu Za let fly was the culmination of the Assassins’ Guild concentrated onto a single point, be it the needle itself or the venom within. Simultaneously, it was the crystallization of the oppressed and weak’s hatred over the hundreds of years.





* * *



Shasta had focused his will solely on the sword he held and as a result, he felt nearly none of the pain from the poison needle stabbing deep into his body.

However, it was in the instant he tried to leap up high towards the throne when he felt a tremendous weight, as though his entire body had turned to lead, and widely opened his eyes.

Strength left his legs and only after slipping down onto a single knee did he notice the foreign object in the left side of his chest.

—Poison, huh.

Instant