1
Silence spread in the hall. Ahead in the bema, before the multitude of guests, the Marquise himself had taken the elevated speaker stand, requesting attention. The acoustics of the cathedral carried his voice without trouble even to those further away. Not that Yuliana had any trouble in that regard. In the Emperor’s company, she had a front row position, while the other guests kept a respectable distance. However, she noted that Bramms wasn’t present. At some point, the hero had left them, without announcing his destination. Not that Yuliana wanted to know, in particular.
Even in the warrior’s absence, there was no need to worry about security.
On the balconies above, along the aisles under, behind the Marquise, there were armed knights everywhere. Yes, they weren’t De la Cartá’s own mercenaries, but men from the Imperial elite forces. Why so many of them? Only because of the Emperor…?
“Good evening,” the Marquise greeted his audience. “And thank you all for coming. It greatly pleases this old heart to see so many come to celebrate him. How old was I again? My memory has not been quite what it used to be...”
The guests politely laughed at the generic joke.
“After I am gone, what will be left of me?” he continued on a more serious note. “It may seem too early to consider such things, but consider it I have. How will I be remembered? What will be my legacy to the Empire that has taken such good care of me over the past three decades? As a matter of fact, I’ve thought about this ever since the premature passing of my good friend, the previous Emperor, Estafallan VI. Divines rest his soul. What is remembered of his grace today? What legacy did he leave us? How did knowing him change me as a person? We are all part of a great continuity, links in a chain that connects everyone and everything. It is both a comforting notion, as well as a fearsome one. Not one of us is alone, and not one of us will go unjudged by the rest.”
It was uncanny how silent such a large space could get, Yuliana thought.
“I want to be remembered as a benefactor, above all. Thanks to me, Bhastifal has an effective press to share important daily news. Which has, in turn, increased the rate of literacy, and improved the employment rate, on top of increasing people’s awareness of the kind of world they live in. Sadly, I have also seen this great asset be abused for the benefit of the few. As one among this powerful minority, I lack the right to judge such maneuvers, but I am saddened by the matter all the same. After I am no more, I would like someone to take a good look at what we’ve been doing. And condemn us. So that things can be better for the generations that come after us. For real. I suppose this is the greatest fear we old people have. To see the results of our efforts to elevate our country fall in the wrong hands, and be turned against everything we believed in.”
Somewhat confused whispers could be heard here and there.
“But, no matter what the future brings us, I hope that all of you big-pockets out there can continue to support the work of this Cathedral, which has provided for the poor of Bhastifal for over two decades. Your generosity has helped save lives and reduce the crime rate that has plagued our beautiful city for so long. May the Divines bless you for your kindness and generosity. I am sure you will be glad for it the next time you have to take a walk out at nighttime—and not get robbed along the way.”
As laughter rang out all around them, the mustached servant, Izumi in his wake, made their way through the crowds.
“Hurry,” he urged her. “His excellency is buying us time to save face!”
“I’m trying,” Izumi replied, doing her best to hold the tray still. A lot of people had no intention of making way for a mere servant.
“Ah, there. Now, on your best behavior.”
Finally, they reached the front part of the audience, and the servant located the Emperor with his sharp gaze. Not that it was particularly difficult. His majesty had the best spot, with a polite distance to the other guests. Izumi felt her pulse quicken.
It was now or never.
They were approaching the target from behind, unnoticed. The hero Bramms was nowhere to be seen. Another opportunity like this might never come. She had to kill the Emperor here, before he turned and recognized her. She would break a glass, activate Sifl, and cut his artery before the guards could act.
Gripping the tray, Izumi braced herself, her pulse something fierce, parted her lips to name the runes. And—
——She stopped.
The Emperor wasn’t alone. As the servant moved out of her way, Izumi saw that right next to his majesty stood a beautiful young woman—a girl.
Izumi nearly dropped the tray out of shock.
It was not an illusion. It was her.
No way Izumi would ever confuse her for another.
Yuliana was there. Yuliana.
What!? How? Why? What’s going on!?
“What are you still waiting for?” the servant grunted at her. “Come on!”
“Bathroom,” Izumi replied, shoved the tray on the servant’s hands and spun around.
“Wha—wait, what...?”
Too late. Izumi had already disappeared back into the crowd.
—“Hm?”
Wondering what the jarring commotion was about, Yuliana glanced over her shoulder. She saw a male servant with a mustache standing aghast there, holding a tray with two glasses of white wine. With a dry cough, the servant quickly regained his composure and brought the drinks over.
“Your majesty. Your highness.” He bowed and held out the tray.
“Took your sweet time,” the Emperor commented, taking a glass.
“My deepest apologies,” the servant bowed deeper.
“Ever heard of this thing called ‘discretion’?” Yuliana asked.
“I have no excuse...”
A short distance ahead of them, Marquise De la Cartá smirked and raised his own glass.
“To this beautiful city,” he said. “To progress. And to good health.”
All the six hundred guests raised their glasses as well.
—“To good health! Happy birthday!”
Everyone emptied their glasses at varying speeds. Yuliana thought the drink had exceptional depth of flavor, rich sweetness complemented by fruity acidity, and a most pleasing aroma.
“Hm, it was worth the wait,” she voiced her opinion.
“Really?” The Emperor looked in his already empty glass. “They all taste the same to me.”
Servants gathered the empty glasses, after which the guests went on to take food. They dined, spoke with various people, ate some more, not with hungry wanton as in a rural banquet, but with sophistication, only a bit at a time, to give a natural context to all the socializing. It wasn’t the first such occasion the princess of Langoria had seen, and she quickly sank back to her often rehearsed public persona, giving her usual stock responses to the repeated, generic queries.
Only a few weeks ago, deep in the Felorn forest, she had never imagined she would be playing the part of a princess again. Not that she wanted to. The previous celebration she had attended wasn’t so easily erased from memory. Fortunately, such primitive threats looked distant and unlikely here, in the heart of the Empire, of modern civilization. Nevertheless, she couldn’t bring herself to fully enjoy the occasion either.
Then, her solitary reflections were interrupted by the merry sound of a flute. The lone instrument was soon joined by others in a delicate song, turning everyone’s attention to the sizable orchestra, which had appeared in the minstrel’s gallery high up.
“Ah, music!” the Emperor exclaimed. “Shall we dance?”
“Eh?” Yuliana blinked, surprised by the invitation.
“Surely you do know how to dance, your highness?”
“Why, I do, but...I didn’t think you cared for such things.”
“Well, there is another misapprehension we ought to fix. If you will.”
The man extended his hand to her. With a half-ironic curtsy, Yuliana took it, and they moved to the clearer central floor, where a few other pairs were joining the song.
There was indeed nothing particularly wrong with the Emperor’s dancing skills, even while he was not a particularly passionate performer either. Even if a bit stiff, his lead was stable, courteous, dependable. Yuliana could easily forget about the motions and simply follow along with light feet, forgetting about time and place.
“Do you think there will still be dance in the world, a year from now?” she asked.
“I do,” he answered. “I will make it so.”
“A confident answer. Do you ever doubt yourself?”
“Even if I did, I wouldn’t speak of it. That would be my last mistake.”
“Is it really so bad, being an Emperor? That you have to trade away your humanity for it?”
“You ask me such a thing, as a princess?”
“It is because I am a princess that I must be more human than the average,” Yuliana answered. “I must be the example that my people will follow. I must show them the best of themselves, but also, that it is normal to have weaknesses. Otherwise, what would become of them?”
“They should figure out what to be for themselves, and not depend on princesses to tell them.”
“Not everyone can be so strong. Even such people we must embrace and guide.”
“It takes a heart stronger than my own to love all,” he said.
“If that’s true, then why are you trying to save them?” she asked.
“Even if I don’t love them, that doesn’t mean I want their deaths.”
“Then why do you kill them?”
“Unless the weak and foolish are culled, everyone will be doomed. My wants and wishes cannot change this.”
“Are those your own beliefs? Or do you say them only because you are the Emperor?”
“Beyond an emperor, I am nothing. Should I stop being what people expect me to be, then I will cease to be altogether.”
“You always speak in riddles. Are you still mocking me? Do you take me for a child, unable to understand the weight of responsibility?”
“I wouldn’t dare. You are strong and you are sharp. And I fear for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. I fear that the harsh future we face will shatter you like a crystal vase. I am trying to take your burden to bear it on your behalf, commit the evil you are incapable of, but you will not let me. And I fear that seeing a heart as beautiful as yours be broken will destroy what little is left intact of mine. Then we will both be equally lost, and the world together with us. I cannot allow this to happen.”
“Crystals and hearts? Now you are a poet as well? But do you not rate my spirit too poorly?”
“I will don whatever mask best suits my needs. For the sake of our world, I will become an artist as well as a butcher.”
“Why not a friend?”
“Will friendship help us?”
“It will help us help ourselves.”
The Emperor fell silent and looked away. They continued to dance, turn around, oblivious to the admiring, envious, enthralled gazes they were attracting. Then, he suddenly spoke again,
“Let’s run away.”
“Excuse me?” Yuliana couldn’t believe her ears.
However, there had been no misunderstanding.
“Leave this city together with me. We’ll quit the Empire, leave these cold, hard walls and conspiring villains behind. Forget all these lies, corruption, and bloodshed. I will follow you wherever you choose to go, as your sword and shield. Even to the land of daemons, if you want to. Just the two of us. Let us take fate in our own hands, as you say.”
“You test me again.”
“I speak my true feelings. Perhaps for the first and only time in my life.”
Yuliana averted her face.
For a fleeting second, she considered the proposal. What if she agreed? Would he really come with her? Would she be able to return to her original purpose, with this man as her ally? If there was anyone in the world, who could understand her motives and feelings, it was this man, royalty like herself. He would understand what they were getting into and not regret it, even should it cost them their lives. Wasn’t this the ideal path for her? If she went with him, Yuliana would be able to face her fate with peace.
But…
“It’s impossible,” she said.
“Because you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you. That much.”
“Yet you refuse me.”
“We’d never make it. They’d hunt us down. And—we wouldn’t be able to do it alone. I foolishly thought I could, when I left home, but...a lot has happened since. I’ve been made to face my weakness again and again, and I understand now. Both the Empire and Langoria are needed to succeed. Humans, elves...we need everyone in the world to lend us a hand, if we are to best the daemons and carve our path to the ends of the world. That’s why, we can’t run away. Only we can make it happen. By choosing to do so. Right here. Right now. Every moment from hereon.”
“...”
The Emperor said nothing but stopped.
He let go of Yuliana and a distance was created between them.
“I admire your wisdom and resolve,” he said, a hollow, lightless look in his dark eyes. “But it will not be enough to overcome the darkness of this world.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
2
Izumi wandered in the crowd with a vacant look. Her mind was in a state of thorough confusion and disarray. Why was Yuliana there with the Emperor? Wasn’t she held captive? Why did it look like she was free and there of her own will, in such a beautiful costume too? Why had no one told her she was there? Watching the two dance from a distance, intimately whispering to one another, Izumi’s stormy feelings were only stirred more.
There was no way she could murder the man in cold blood, right in front of the princess’s eyes. Yuliana would hate her forever if she did.
Then, what could she do?
Perhaps there was a way to take Yuliana, sneak out, and escape the city? But that would’ve meant betraying her promise to Carmelia…To begin with, was the princess even willing to leave? Didn’t she have her own reasons, her own goals, which had nothing to do with the woman from the other world? Every minute spent second-guessing elevated the risk of being exposed. Izumi knew this, but it didn’t make the decision any easier.
What was she to do?
At the same time, Izumi felt strangely hurt.
The princess and the Emperor—they looked uncannily good together.
The tall, powerful frame of an adult man, how well it shielded the gorgeous flower by his side, complemented her. And then there was Izumi herself, an assassin without honor, a remorseless, penniless, underhanded killer, the robber of maids, the explorer of sewers, and a pervert to boot.
“Darn, darn, darn, darn, darn, darn it...When did my life in another world go so wrong…!?”
The mission was a failure, no way around it.
The only choice left was to retreat, quietly exit the building. So long as she left no traces, no one would be able to realize what had happened or pin it on Carmelia. It was still safe. They could try again another time. Yes, there was no plan B and only two days left of the week, but nothing could be done about that.
But then, something happened.
Something that changed everything.
A loud, collective gasp awoke Izumi from her frantic thoughts.
The dance stopped. Everyone’s attention was suddenly drawn to the front part of the hall. What they were so intently looking with horrified faces at was the old Marquise. De la Cartá was kneeling on the floor, clutching his chest, a shattered wine glass beside him. The man’s eyes were rounded in shock, as strength rapidly drained from his limbs. Unable to breathe, a quiet groan escaped his throat, but no audible words. Then, having lost the struggle against the poison coursing in his veins, he fell on his face and ceased to move.
Decidedly dead.
Innumerable shrieks and cries of astonishment created a thunderous clamor in the hall, and all the hundreds of guests started to shift towards the exit, against the guards’ feeble attempts to calm them. No, weren’t the guards practically throwing them out? What on earth was happening? Izumi remained still as guests flooded past her, dazed, unable to comprehend any of it.
Suddenly, someone was standing right beside her.
Izumi turned her head and saw it was the head servant, the one with the mustache. He took her hand and put something in it. Looking down, she saw it was a small blade, similar to a paper knife, featureless and easily hidden. She faintly recalled seeing a similar sting once, in the hands of someone else, but it felt like it had been a lifetime ago.
“From the ashes comes life,” the servant sternly told her and hurried out along with the guests.
Clutching the blade, a sense of purpose returned to Izumi. She looked up and saw the Emperor leave in the opposite direction from everyone else, leading the princess by the arm, towards a doorway in the back of the hall.
Suddenly, things started to make sense to her again.
“Now you’ve done it…!”
Picking up the pace, she ran after the two, a sense of dread pressing on her heart.
3
The Emperor led Yuliana through a doorway in the apse, the back end of the hall. They climbed up the stairs through there, floor after floor, before arriving in a spacious room somewhere in the overpass between the two towers of the enormous edifice. Like the hall below, it had been cleared of furniture, save for a small table in the middle.
“The Marquise is dead...murdered. Why?” Yuliana questioned the Emperor at the first available opportunity. “Why would anyone do such a thing? Why now, at a time like this? In his own birthday party!”
Approaching the lone table, the Emperor answered,
“The Circle of Pale Ashes would.”
“Who?” Yuliana thought the name sounded vaguely familiar, but that was all.
“He was a necessary sacrifice, to set the stage,” his majesty continued, turning around. “Nothing more complicated than that.”
His expression had returned forcibly neutral, unemotional and distant.
“The stage?” the princess frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Recognize this?”
Picking up a piece of paper that someone had left on the table, the Emperor presented it to the princess. With suspicion, Yuliana walked closer and took a look at the document—quickly recognizing the contents.
It was the geas scroll—the one written for her, binding her to act against her fatherland under the pain of death, which she had refused to sign.
“I have understood certain things this week,” the Emperor told her. “You will not yield before threats. You cannot be bribed nor seduced. You cannot be coerced without breaking your body and mind beyond recovery, rendering you useless to our cause. You will sooner take your own life than compromise on the safety of your kingdom and her people. No arguments can change your mind, once made up. Then this document is useless, as it is. Unless you will sign it yet, by your own will. Would you consider it?”
“You...” Yuliana looked at the man in disgust. “You had the Marquise killed? Just to make me sign that?”
“Not quite. I knew De la Cartá would die, yes. He brought it upon himself. I did not give the command, but I counted on it happening all the same. In the hopes that it would make you see the light of reason. And recognize the kind of reality we live in.”
“Reason?” the young woman spat. “All I see here is pure madness!”
“...I was afraid you would say that. You cannot be forced and neither can our cause be rationalized to you. Indeed, during our time together, I have perceived but one weakness in your impeccable fortitude. That is, your friends. Both of them have been delivered outside my grasp. But perhaps one will yet come back, of her own volition.”
The Emperor turned to look over his shoulder. Someone had appeared in the doorway, a maid. Tearing the white scarf off her head, the maid quickened her pace and ran to them with a determined, furious look.
Of course, she was not a maid.
“Izumi!?” Yuliana cried, bewildered, recognizing the woman in her unusual getup.
Gritting her teeth, Izumi charged straight at the Emperor.
At this point, it was too late for regrets. As she had suspected, the plan had been compromised from the beginning. Her moves were being read, anticipated, every step of the way. The Emperor had taken Yuliana for a hostage here, to force Izumi’s hand.
Retreat was simply not an option.
Only success, forced even through stone if necessary.
Through blood and tears.
But no matter the cost, she would succeed.
Whatever the Emperor was planning, it was useless.
Surely only a god would be able to still her killing hand now.
“Hope you saved a bunch, ‘cos it's a bad end for you!” she shouted and leaped in the air, raising her weapon, to overwhelm her solitary opponent, to crush him, to bury him. For once and for all.
But reach him, she didn’t.
At that moment——for no explicable reason, the very air between the two exploded.
Izumi was struck back by the impact, cast across the air. With effort, she twisted her hips to fix her orientation mid-flight and landed on her feet, sliding a good distance over the polished stone floor.
Having instinctively shielded her face from the abrupt flash, Yuliana quickly opened her eyes again and saw that another person had appeared out of nothingness, to block the assassin’s path.
An uncannily beautiful woman with long, deep blue hair.
That divine vision was all the princess saw.
In the next instant, a wall suddenly surged up from the floor, dividing the entire room in two. That dense barrier shortly separated her and the Emperor from the two other people.
“Izumi!” Yuliana called, striking at the wall. To no avail. That wall was not a trick or an illusion but of solid stone, at least half a meter in thickness. The magic to produce such a thing clearly exceeded ordinary human ability.
What was happening on the other side, there was no longer any way for her to tell.
Only faint tremors carried through, along the marble floor.
Izumi, on the other hand, had a better grasp of the situation.
“I didn’t see that coming, okay...”
In front of her stood Cinithlea, one of the Divine patrons of the Empire, who had repelled her with a light display of mystical power. Cinithlea wasn’t alone, either. On the right, a distance away, stood Gwanlyn in her simplistic kimono. It was her power, which had created the wall, manipulating the stone naturally present in the building, as easily as though it were part of her own body.
“Then, the third one must be...”
Searching for the missing person, Izumi sensed movement from above. She stepped back, barely in time to avoid the agile figure of Yubilea falling at her from above, both the spirit’s feet veiled in shoes of bright red flame. The moment she hit the floor, without suspense, the spirit kicked up and back, aiming at Izumi’s unshielded head. Activating Sifl, however, Izumi evaded by a hair and jumped back to get over a safer distance.
For a moment, those present were locked in a staring contest of unparalleled intensity.
“I see,” Cinithlea spoke with a faint smile. “I perceive a familiar pattern in your magic. It appears you have gained powerful supporters, mortal. Now I know how you were able to survive the encounter with our protégé.”
“On the other hand,” Izumi replied, “I expected better than kicks and punches from you guys. Compared to the Divines I’ve met before, you don’t seem that big a deal anymore. Maybe you shouldn’t have started playing favorites?”
“Indeed, we are paying a heavy toll for our bias,” the blue spirit replied. “The power of the Covenant goes beyond your paltry mortal vows. But even if reduced to mere shadows of our former selves, there are things we cannot allow to pass.”
“Why? I thought all you cared about was lazing off and pampering the big guy.”
“It is for Waramoti’s sake that we are here. The Emperor has learned of our weakness; he has threatened to ship the hero to the land of daemons, unless we do him this favor. Regrettably, even our power would not protect the man overseas. Therefore, there is no other choice but for you to die tonight, in exchange for our entertainer’s safety.”
“Oh, is that so?” Izumi replied. “As popular as it makes me feel, I really don’t have the time to play with you now. Somebody important to me needs a hand.”
“The vessel of White?” Cinithlea guessed. “My apologies, but keeping you from that child is one of the core tasks given to us tonight.”
“And fortunately for us,” Gwanlyn spoke, “it is nighttime and the White Death slumbers. No one is coming to your rescue, mortal.”
“Low as we may have fallen,” Yubilea said, “we have until daybreak. That’s more than enough time to destroy one feeble human!”
The red spirit dashed at Izumi. Her flame-coated feet glided over the floor unhindered by inertia, crossing the distance in an instant. Izumi tried to keep calm and analyze her opponent the same as always, but the dire circumstances were undeniably getting on her nerves.
A way past the three spirits, a way to reach Yuliana—she couldn’t see any.
All she could do was focus on the moment and try to survive.
Yubilea appeared to be a close-combat type of spirit, while the two others kept their distance. With the fury of a firecracker, the Lord of Scarlet Flame attacked Izumi with rapid kicks and punches of deadly force, augmented by her element. Even though she had a human vessel, her movements were free of hindrances characteristic to ordinary people. Normally, there should always be a slight delay between one’s actions, due to the necessary contraction and relaxation of musculature. But the body of the spirit of red flowed from one technique to the next uninterrupted, with the agility of a seasoned dancer.
Normally, a mortal fighter even with Izumi’s experience would have been swiftly overwhelmed. But Izumi had Carmelia’s magic.
Keeping Sifl active, she endured the heat of Yubilea’s flames and evaded her attacks. The human form gave the spirit the power to interfere with the physical world, but it was also a limitation which allowed Izumi to read and anticipate her.
“Stay still, will you!” the irritated spirit yelled at her.
“Can’t do that,” Izumi replied with faked confidence. In truth, evading was all she could do. There was no opening for a counterattack anywhere. The limiter Carmelia had placed on Sifl prevented her from accelerating her speed—accelerating her time, that is—to dangerous levels. But even the swiftness that greatly exceeded an average person was barely enough to keep up with the Divine Lord.
Perhaps there was a way to break through, if she got a bit forceful...But the presence of the two other Lords couldn’t be ignored either. For the time being, they simply observed from a distance, but there were no guarantees that they wouldn’t join the fight if the tide was turned.
And beyond that, Izumi was worried about Yuliana.
What was happening on the other side of the wall?
Was the Emperor’s goal only to terminate the threat on his life?
Or was Izumi herself being used for some ulterior purpose?
If so.
If that was the case.
Then had she, by coming here, only served to make things worse for Yuliana…?
“Khh…!”
That thought wrenched Izumi’s heart worse than any threat against herself.
“I’ll praise your efforts, mortal!” Yubilea told her. “But how do you like this?”
The spirit leaped in the air, as if to strike from above. However, at that moment, her form burst into brilliant flames and vanished from before Izumi’s eyes with a loud crack.
“That move…!?”
Instinctively, Izumi felt a connection.
It was only a gut feeling, but she reacted to it immediately, by turning around.
Behind her back, the air was torn by another explosion of flame out of nothing, and through those flames dived Yubilea’s youthful figure, braced to strike at an unsuspecting foe.
But the foe wasn’t unsuspecting.
Izumi had guessed correctly. Although the aesthetics of the skill differed, there was an uncanny resemblance between Yubilea’s sudden maneuver...and the shadowy technique of the daemons.
Izumi didn’t waste the opening. Instead of retreating, she lowered her posture, letting Yubilea’s fist brush past her face, put strength into her hips, and extended her right arm.
“Eh?” the Divine made a surprised sound as she missed.
“Gram!” Izumi spoke the incantation.
The woman’s knuckles connected with the spirit’s stomach, strengthened by the rune of power. In the next instant, Yubilea’s slim form was blown away, struck into the cathedral wall thirty feet away.
—“GAAAAAAAHHH!”
“Speed and mass equals power!” Izumi exclaimed. “Watch Bruce Lee, if you don’t believe me! With this—”
She turned back to face the two remaining Lords.
Neither Cinithlea nor Gwanlyn had moved.
Instead——the floor moved.
The ceiling moved.
The whole room around Izumi was suddenly in motion. New walls sprang from above and below, further dividing the already divided space, rapidly creating obstacles one after the other. Izumi’s chances of reaching Yuliana were quickly reduced to nothing.
“Give me a break…!” she cried, sprinting towards the window on the left side wall.
Too late. Well before she could reach it, even that opening vanished, devoured by the animated stone wall. Izumi looked around, desperately trying to find another way to escape the trap, only to find that all the exits were gone. Without any natural light source available, she should have been left in complete darkness—but that was not the case.
The angry flames covering Yubilea kept the room lit, as the spirit struggled up from amid the stone rubble.
“You’re going to pay for that…!” she roared at Izumi. “Human!”
Even after taking such a heavy blow, the Divine appeared unharmed.
Naturally. The form of the Lord was “human” in appearance only.
Whoever the maiden sacrificed to Yubilea had been in life, that life had been consumed in full by the spirit, to produce her current incarnation. These vain spirits had not been content with simply possessing a vessel; what they wanted was to savor the pleasures of physical life in full.
The cost was severe, both for the Lord and the host. Nothing of the previous humanity of the sacrifice remained. But in exchange for this intimate fusion, the boundaries of mortality were cast aside. So long as the spirit herself lived, her shell could not be easily destroyed—in other words, the form of the spirit could only be destroyed by an attack that also destroyed the spirit itself.
In effect, only a Lord could kill a Lord.
Izumi’s struggle was hopeless from the start.
“It doesn’t get much worse than this, does it?” she mumbled.
As soon as she said that…
Where the door of the room had once been, a loud explosion occurred. The marble wall was shattered by an impact of incredible force, causing it to cave in, together with a large portion of the wall itself. Chunks of stone scattered all over the polished floor. Both Izumi and the Divine of flame were left momentarily stunned, staring at the freshly appeared cavity, through which a tall man walked in.
A man holding an enormous, circular shield.
“You…!” Yubilea gasped.
“Good evening,” that man, that hero, Bramms of the Grand Shield, stepped over the debris and greeted the two with a nod.
“Mind if I join in?”