Monan always felt useless, no matter what their progenitor told them.

“Useless? Of course not,” Moanin would say, wearing their characteristic wide, unnerving smile. “One day you will replace me as Ruler, after all, my beautiful child.”

However, Monan couldn’t readily believe it. First of all, they knew that it was the same kind of smile Moanin always used when lying or scheming something. Secondly, they knew that they’d never be able to be a proper Ruler.

“Beautiful”, now, Monan could believe. They had little pride in it, but since they had nothing better to do most of the time they would often doll up, take care of their skin and hair and wear all sorts of clothes and accessories.

Spoiled child, they’d heard people call them. It was perhaps obvious; the Stroba spent dirty lives underground, growing mushrooms and concocting potions, planning more and more assaults against Kalden. Meanwhile, the Ruler’s heir did nothing but stay in their spacious room.

Even so, it didn’t mean everyone scorned Monan. Many even regarded them favorably.

“Is it true that Kalden’s really beautiful?” Monan asked one day.

“Oh, yes. The trees are simply outstanding. I do think our mushrooms have a unique charm of their own, though,” answered the tall and fair Boum. Since Boum served as one of Stroba’s most long-standing spies, they’d been at Kalden most of the time.

“I have been to the trees above a couple of times,” said Monan, “but it’s probably incomparable to Kalden.”

“Right… it is.”

The two were friends when they were children, playing often. In fact, Monan might have considered Boum their one and only friend. Even so, Boum had been sent to Kalden pretty early on, posing as a war orphan from a nearby Kalden settlement, building connections since then.

Monan grew to admire them. They were actually useful to the Stroba, not only by being a spy but even in their proficiency in the usage of various potions. They were also very pretty. Naturally pretty, Monan felt, unlike them.

“If I told you to take me to Kalden… would you?” Monan asked one day, despite knowing the answer.

Boum wore a sad smile. “I wish I could. Even if that was feasible, the Ruler would never permit it anyway.” Monan lowered their head. “But… I promise you that one day we will take them over. And then you could finally live where you belong.”

“Where I belong…” Monan muttered. Was Boum speaking about Kalden, the city? Or perhaps about Kalden the castle. Many faerie tales would often speak of a Ruler and their beautiful child… what was the word, again? Princess?

Monan, too, longed for such romance. If they were the Princess, then perhaps… Boum could be their Prince?

Incapacitate the human to stop the Goddess’s attack—although this plan sounded simple, it was obviously extremely difficult in practice.

Gen wasn’t sure how seriously to tackle this. The human seemed to be their enemy, but they were probably manipulated by the Stroba, by the Goddess, or both. Even if they did try to kill him, it didn’t matter, because the Goddess intercepted each and every of their attacks.

Now that Shaya joined up with Gen, the others also quickly followed. The skies above the forest soon became a mess of flying arrows and Gen’s attacks snapping through the air.

“How about this!” called Shaya from the nearest treetop, trying to follow Alsa with her eyes. Although she had no need of icons in order to channel, she still needed to see her target.

Finally, a small, red blaze blossomed in air. This was perhaps Shaya’s deadliest technique, which made her hesitate in using it for various reasons, the environment around them included.

However, her attempt failed. Although she’d focused on the human’s legs, what caught fire was a strand of hair. Curiously, it seemed like it did have some effect, as an immediate psychic scream filled everyone’s minds.

“The arson’s heart pains me thus/suffering from the very depths of hell/consume till naught remains but ash!”

The next moment was a blur as the Goddess leapt toward the attacker. Apparently, this attempt had struck some sort of nerve. Shaya hurriedly jumped away, but was saved only by Gen’s channeled arm pulling her away. Another small tentacle pounded the ground to raise dust and leaves and obscure them.

“Are you fine?” Gen asked her.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, although her face was pale. She coughed.

Gen frowned; Shaya had only just recovered from the poisonous gas they both inhaled back during the raid on Marmony. Was it wise to let her fight like this? But he probably had no hope if he wanted to somehow beat the Goddess.

Finally, he pushed those worries aside for the moment. “That was weird,” he mumbled, launching them further away still in case of a counterattack. “Could it be that she’s like those beasts? Weak to channeling, I mean. …No, can’t be.” That was obviously untrue. After all, they’d already tried hurling all sorts of attacks at her. Admittedly not heat, but that still ruled out his hypothesis.

If she was an invincible God, it would be the end, for there was nothing they could do. However, as slim of a hope as it was, if she had some weakness after all, they had to figure it out right now.

“She almost seemed… mad,” Shaya pointed out. There were sounds of the still unfolding battle ahead. They both knew that the other soldiers wouldn’t be able to stand against the Goddess, so they needed to hurry back. “Do you think that we can take advantage of this?”

A spark of an idea. “Use this to defeat... no, to neutralize that man? Could work.”

“Then let’s try it.”

Linza looked down the cliff expressionlessly.

When she’d heard the Queen was organizing a great speech, she knew this could be her chance. Sure, Levia-O would also leave the castle at other times, but these excursions were much less predictable. She would obviously be protected, but Linza could do what no other assassin could.

She actually hesitated between doing this and going up to the castle to install some sort of trap or hide there, but eventually settled on attacking Levia in mid-transit. Perhaps this decision was made due to Linza’s immediate association with the Queen’s past—the circumstances that led to Prince Mayer’s death.

Unfortunately, the first attack had ended in complete failure. She’d crushed the carriage and yet Levia was rescued and brought outside. Linza was surprised, but then she finally understood—that none other than Stard Molton was in charge of guarding the Queen.

This was an unexpected bad news, obviously.

Linza was not a fighter but an assassin, so she’d never be able to stand up against the man. However, not all was completely lost. She still had the advantage since Molton couldn’t easily leave the Queen’s side without exposing her to further attacks.

Really, though… Molton? Had she underestimated the Queen? Had the Queen summoned her mightiest soldier expressly for this purpose?

Linza picked up a stone, briefly glanced at its icons, and then hurled it down with all of her might. In doing so she channeled weight, making it dozens of times heavier. It struck the rocky path below, greatly fissuring it. A few soldiers from the convoy screamed as they slipped and fell, but the Queen was again grabbed by Molton.

Linza repeated the attack yet again, not letting them catch their breath. Molton took the Queen and evaded again.

Linza glanced around quickly. Some of the soldiers separated from the convoy; they were probably going to try getting to her, though that would prove to be extremely difficult without using abilities like hers.

Still, her attempt failed and Molton could simply prioritize keeping the Queen safe and getting away. She couldn’t do anything about that, so she’d better escape. It was a good effort, and her third and final one. All things considered, it was a job well done.

At least she thought this, but… what if she did end up finishing the job?

What if she took out the legendary Stard Molton as well? Wouldn’t that be something? She might even get a bonus. She really needed a break after this short trip to Rumdon; too much anxiety, compared to her usual jobs.

No, that’s stupid, she reprimanded herself. Potential money didn’t matter if her chances of surviving this were close to nil. Instead, she retreated back on the cliff, carefully watching her environment. Which was why she saw Molton still hovering there while holding Levia in his arms.

Is he still planning on fighting me? But why would he…?

Was this due to Molton’s temperament? He was not a guard, but a soldier, and the strongest one at that. She heard the tales; he probably never let any enemy get away, notwithstanding the supposed eternal draw against his archnemesis, the Saintess of Sacrona. Moreover, he probably wanted to catch the assassin, as they couldn’t let her get away with it after not just one but three consecutive attempts.

Linza gulped. She was normally confident in her ability to escape, but this was Molton… having to go head-to-head with him was way outside her calculations. At best she might be able to kill the Queen but forfeit her life, not exactly a good result.

“Damn,” she spat, hurriedly drawing two rocks, activating and throwing them both in quick succession. Aiming at moving targets was difficult, but she knew she wasn’t going to hit him anyway. It was meant as a deterrent and to give her some time to think.

Molton still came flying there, carrying the Queen. He intended on risking her for that? Was he trying to both protect her and try to entice Linza to keep fighting in the hopes of killing her? He was insane. The Queen was insane.

Linza had to think of something and fast.

Joining Zade and a Demon to destroy Kalden was definitely not in any of Monan’s wildest dreams. Nothing could have prepared them for this, not even the faerie tales they loved so.

Something they were prepared for and came true was being useless. They were nothing but luggage. Why had Zade agreed to take them, anyway? Monan couldn’t tell.

At first the flight was actually surprisingly pleasant (if scary at times), but then some enemies appeared and Zade went berserk, causing the Demon to attack. Monan was also protected by it throughout all that, but being flung and carried around became even scarier. At times they were grazed by leaves and bushes.

“Z-Zade!” they tried shouting. “We should stop, this is getting a bit too—eeeep!” Monan shouted as they lurched to the sky, the Demon crashing into a tree.

“Kill them all!” Zade commanded, completely ignoring Monan.

Monan gave up on understanding the situation, but from time to time they would see their enemies, and at least two of them were faeries. After being with Zade for so long, they were able to instantly recognize this. One was probably a man, and the other was probably a woman.

While Zade could use magic as well, it was clear that these two were leagues above him. One used some sort of invisible force to leap in the air and throw unseen attacks, while the other controlled all sorts of magic at will.

Now the woman tried burning the Demon again, an act that seriously enraged it.

“Falling into a bottomless pit/flying in a sky without light/the coldness of the void.”

Although Monan never could understand the Demon’s strange projected thoughts, the rage and fear were apparent. It once again went on a relentless attack against the faerie woman, crushing everything in its path.

However, the faerie leapt to the side and was then carried swiftly up into the air to evade, going in complex routes around.

“I-I think they’re planning something…!” Monan shrieked urgently.

“Huh…?” mumbled Zade who was focused on this senseless chase until now.

Monan was perhaps incompetent and had nothing but their looks, but they were apparently the only one who could think right now. And so, they had a certain hunch.

“This is some sort of trap—” started Monan, but it was too late. They were already led through the full circle around certain trees. Only now Monan noticed that several of them were still standing despite their trunks being cut.

These all collapsed at once with terrible noise. With all this din, the quick movements and their panic, Monan couldn’t tell what was going on except the shock of a sudden, sharp pain.

No matter how powerful the Demon was, even it apparently had its limits. Its lethal hairs were fast enough to protect against any direct attacks, but what about indirect attacks? Monan had been scratched by the environment dozens of times until now. And now a large branch stabbed their arm.

“Ali…ma?” muttered Zade in shock. “Alima!”

It took Monan several seconds to even register what happened before letting out a scream of pain that was almost drowned by the sounds of the Demon crushing everything around them.

“I’m, fine… ah!” Monan screamed again upon glancing at their arm. Their vision momentarily blacked out. Pain blared in their mind. “Ahhh…”

“Alima… Alima!” Completely ignoring the destruction around him, Zade, who was himself covered in many cuts and scratches, tried reaching out toward his companion, both of them still bound by the hairs. “Let me… you have to do something!”

“Do you seek the embrace of death?/do you abhor the stench of life?/do you realize the weight of your sins?” asked the Demon.

“So you can’t?” Zade asked, his face contorted in pain that almost seemed larger than Monan’s. “You can’t… save her?”

Now that the dust and destruction of the trap had settled, they were getting surrounded by many figures from all sides. The Goddess was still silently thrashing, but almost seemed to be having a conversation with Zade. Monan could barely focus on any of this with all the pain. They couldn’t even think to pluck the offending branch out of their arm.

They only looked at Zade and waited.

Stard took into the air, brandishing no weapons but the one he was meant to protect, carrying her as if she was a princess from legends. Well, she really had been a princess once. He currently bore none of his legendary armaments, though he did have a plain sword hanging from his waist.

His enemy was now visible; a figure fully clad in brown, standing on the nearby cliff, a place no ordinary hiker could have possibly reached. That was definitely the assassin as described to him by young Revol.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked his query.

“Yes,” replied Levia, her hair fanned by the strong wind, “we can’t let them get away. This will make them hesitate as well.”

Stard mentioned nothing about the fact that it made him hesitate in his actions just as much. Battling an enemy in order to protect the very target he was holding was absurd; he’d never fought anyone like that.

The assassin threw a few rocks into the air and Stard evaded. However, it was probably just a means of buying some time, as immediately after doing so they leapt away, jumping much higher than any normal person could. He already learned from Salom about this theoretical usage of the weight channel.

“Follow them,” ordered Levia, making Stard sigh. He gave an immense burst of speed, overtaking even the assassin, hoping to catch them off-guard.

However, they used this opportunity to leap down another cliff, almost seeming to glide there. Stard swerved midair, following them again and dodging a thrown rock again.

They were approaching a somewhat forested area of the mountain. If he wasn’t careful, he might easily lose the assassin in the shade of some tree. Stard was conflicted for the umpteenth time: keeping his distance meant the assassin had more chances of getting away, while getting closer risked both him and the Queen.

“They seem to be running away, so perhaps I will lower you?” he suggested.

“Although I do not feel anyone else in the vicinity, we still cannot rule out the possibility they’re not working alone. If I am just left to wander here, I will become an easy target. They can possibly collapse the entire cliff itself, if they’re so proficient with weight channeling.”

At times the Queen could be quite obstinate. He thought her worries were negligible, so it was almost as if she was risking herself on purpose… but that didn’t fit her, either. Stard couldn’t spare the time to think about that right now as he kept his pursuit. He was already nearly losing the assassin from time to time.

“Will you allow me to try something dangerous, then?” he decided to ask. He couldn’t see, or rather not allow himself to look at Levia’s face—not that it mattered because she was probably wearing a neutral expression—but he knew she could definitely feel what he himself thought about this idea of his.

“You believe this will lead to victory, so you may go ahead,” she said plainly. Without making any reply, Stard gave another burst of speed, flying between two low trees.

Perhaps surprised, the assassin stopped in place for a moment, but then flung another rock. How many of those did they even have? Surely something as complicated as a weight icon would require careful work, so they would run out of ammo at some moment. Stard didn’t even need to dodge as the shot hit one of the trees.

Or was that on purpose? The moment it was hit, the tree was shaken by a large impact, causing it to snap in half and collapse.

And that is why I hate fighting like this, Stard thought as he pressed ahead, deciding to outrun the falling tree rather than avoid it. Although there was no doubt that the assassin aimed to use this small forested area to vanish, they had also restricted themselves and now Stard was almost upon them.

The battle would probably be settled by their next move.

The years following Zade’s arrival were perhaps the happiest and saddest that Monan ever felt. They felt elated, even if a major part of them also felt bad for what they’ve done. They were finally useful for something. They were finally loved.

There had been a small crisis about a year after Zade’s arrival, however.

“I know, my child… it is a terrible loss for all of us,” said Moanin, embracing their scion in a hug.

Monan wanted Moanin to let go, but they couldn’t even vocalize it due how much they were crying. They didn’t care that the guards outside the room could probably hear them. They didn’t care about anything at all, for they lost the person most important of all.

“They will be remembered. We will not—”

“S-shut up already!” Monan screamed. That seemed to wipe the grin off of Moanin’s face for once.

“Such an outburst does not behoove you, my child.”

“I don’t c-care!” How could Monan care about anything at all, after losing Boum like that? Least of all their manners or so-called station.

After having given them a great help with learning Zade’s language, Boum had left for another mission—promising that they would bring the other faeries with them and that Kalden’s downfall would be closer than ever.

Monan was thrilled, though not for those reasons, but by the fact that this would have been Boum’s final mission. After executing such a plan, they’d obviously be exposed as a spy once and for all. There’d be no turning back, and so Boum would finally return to Marmony, to Monan—

Unfortunately, it really had been their final mission. It was a complete blunder.

Monan would never see Boum again. Not even their body would ever find its way back to the ground of Marmony. Thinking about it hurt more than anything else before.

“I see that I cannot comfort you. Perhaps I don’t possess the right,” said Moanin sadly. “Your grief is something you’ll have to deal with by yourself… or perhaps not. You should go back to your rooms, now.”

The way back to their chambers was blurry, mostly due to the tears. Monan hadn’t even considered Zade at all during those moments until they came back and he stared at them.

“What’s wrong, Alima…?” he asked, his face a mask of shock.

“What? A-ah,” Monan mumbled. “No, i-it’s nothing…” Despite being under so much grief, Monan knew they shouldn’t break their role like that. If they simply ignored him then the potions would probably do the rest of the work.

They were surprised at themselves being so level-headed about this. They really wouldn’t have expected it from themselves.

“No, there’s definitely something wrong.” Zade spoke softly as he approached Monan. He lifted a hand, touching their damp cheek. “This is like… when I thought I’d lost you.”

Monan gasped. He was obviously referring to the loss of his actual wife. They’d heard that Zade was wailing and shouting as well during his first days until they gave him the potions and introduced him to Monan.

At times, still confused by the various mixtures’ effects, he would cry at night in Monan’s arms. Thinking back, his form during those sleepless, lonely nights was perhaps like Monan themselves was now.

“I’m just… I…”

Monan’s words were cut short by Zade pulling them to a close hug. It was so tight that for a moment Monan couldn’t breathe, and before noticing they even stopped crying.

“Please. I don’t want to see you cry,” Zade said softly. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

It was then that Monan realized they were the same.

Yes. Zade had lost his love, and Monan theirs. However, at this moment Monan felt that they gained each other. Losing Boum would never not hurt. Especially not when it was yet so fresh. This would never serve as a replacement either. However, it was still something new, a gain instead of a loss.

Perhaps that was when it finally happened—when Monan fell in love with Zade.

Gen and Shaya’s plan seemed to both work and fail. They attempted drowning the Goddess in so much debris and destruction that she would be unable to shield her queries against them all. However, the human was relatively unharmed and instead it was the fairy that received a major hit.

But it did stop the attacks—for now. The man looked distraught at its result.

“No… no… do something!” he man shouted. “Do something, you have to!”

Gen decided to take advantage of this pause in the hostilities. “Let’s stop this!” he shouted back, glaring at him. That caused the man to turn toward him, tears streaming down his eyes. “We don’t need to fight anymore.”

“You hurt her!” the man blamed. “You did this! All of you! After abandoning me… no, stop this!”

“Please calm down,” Shaya tried as well, standing unsteadily on a branch. “We only wanted to stop the Goddess… we don’t wish to fight at all!”

“Then why have you abandoned me?! Why have you not come to take me from those wretched caves?!”

“We have!” insisted Gen. “But you ran away.”

“No, you don’t understand… you don’t understand anything!”

Gen and Shaya exchanged helpless glances. They really did not understand. Could not. The man seemed to be completely crazy. He was perhaps talking of other times, detaching himself from the conversation currently taking place. It might be that the world he was viewing was completely different from theirs, too.

Even so, Gen wanted to help him. He believed that it could still be done. That was what he came there to do.

“Let’s start over,” Gen suggested. “It seems there’s some miscommunication and a misunderstanding between us… so let’s turn a new leaf. We’ll take you home—I mean Kalden, but one day we’ll get back to Plainland as well.”

“We’ll take care of that wounded fairy too!” added Shaya urgently.

The man’s eyes darted around. He seemed to be torn on whether he should believe in them or not.

“Zade…” squeaked the fairy. “You can… go with them.”

“But you—” his horrified eyes were drawn to his companion.

“I’m fine,” they said. “It hurts, hurts really bad, but I’ll live. I think.”

Zade shook his head in disbelief—and then the Goddess unleashed another mental scream at everyone around.

“You will never give up the blood and guts/watching the tree burn in a pillar of smoke/let the earth itself collapse into the abyss!” she said accusingly. “The lion will keep hunting for all eternity/an avalanche of avarice and bloodlust never fulfilled/jumping headlong into a bottomless pit!”

Alsa began thrashing, turning the crushed trees into even smaller fragments and causing the small unit surrounding her to get back.

“Stop her! Please!” Gen begged. Zade looked at him for a moment, but then shook his head again.

“I will finish this, once and for all,” he claimed, suddenly sounding surprisingly calm. He took Monan into his arms and then the woman holding them both shot into the air.

“Crap! I won’t let them get away!” Gen leapt as well, sending tentacles to the heavens, but was immediately deflected by Alsa’s hair, and then assaulted by a stab of pain. “…Eh?”

Was he so focused on the human that he really forgot to pay attention to anything else? Yet again this bad habit of his. During her ascension to the heavens, Alsa whipped up a storm of hairs that annihilated some more trees around, causing a rain of sharp wood splinters. Several of those now stabbed into Gen.

“Gen…? Gen!” Shaya shouted in horror as she saw him collapse to the ground.

“Never mind me,” he spat, blood dribbling from his mouth as well, “we gotta…!” Gen hurriedly got up on his legs, but then nearly stumbled again. “Crap…”

“This is enough, Genro,” said one of the fairies. “You’ve fought well, but you’re the only one who can catch up to them and match against them, and you’re in no state to do so!”

Gen grunted, but had to admit that was true. Judging by the lack of nearby sounds, the Goddess had already left the scene. Thinking back, he’d been lucky that they’d been so close to that monster and that she engaged them in the first place. He felt angry and useless—they were so close.

“Crap… no, shit!” Gen cursed, punching the ground in frustration. “We have to let Kalden know about this!”

Linza had only one icon-inscribed stone remaining and her usual cloth-ball on a string. There wasn’t much else she could do to win this fight and Molton was much more persistent than she had anticipated.

I’m going to die, she became convinced. Even back in Lastia there were stories about his prowess and about how only someone like the Saints of Sacrona could ever hope to match against him. He was inhuman and superhuman.

Linza led no honorable life. She grew rather mellow to it all throughout the years, forgetting her rough childhood and even rougher training as an assassin. When she wasn’t on a mission, she just enjoyed the places her clients brought her to.

Did she deserve to live? After taking a couple dozen of lives? Probably not.

Even so she still wanted to live. Even if her client had no interest in whether she lived or died, in whether she succeeded or failed, she still wanted to live. As long as didn’t leave any clues about her employer, she was allowed to live.

This is a nice mountain, she found herself thinking. It was a pity that only someone with similar abilities could reach this place. What would her deceased parents have thought about this place? Or that stupid nobleman’s son she met the other day?

How silly of her to think of such things while engaged in mortal combat. Was this what it meant to have your life flash before your eyes when you were on death’s door?

As Molton grew closer, Linza turned around, glanced at the cloth ball and threw it directly ahead. Predicting its trajectory, Molton swerved to the side and so the loud thud and crack came from a tree nearby. However, having expected this as well, she pulled back the string at an angle and landed a hit.

Molton grunted and nearly crashed into the ground as the ball hit him from the side. Unfortunately, the weight she channeled lessened with time, so on the way back it was already far less deadly.

Well, at least it bought her some time. After all, she wasn’t running around randomly, but aiming for a certain spot—a nearby ravine, where she thought she could escape to and hide in while waiting for things to cool down.

She had to time her attack perfectly because she only had a single stone. She could use her ball again, but she needed it to safely leap off of the mountain; even her earlier maneuver nearly severed the string.

Molton was growing ever closer, so it might end up becoming a simple question of who struck first—or so she thought until he did something completely unexpected and threw the Queen from his arms.

Linza stared in shock. Was he really throwing her away while flying? Did that not defeat the entire purpose? Would she not get seriously hurt, falling from that height, with that speed?

Using this opening, Molton closed in and landed a punch straight into her stomach.

Yes, it really was dangerous bringing the Queen directly into the fray, because even if it technically put Stard in the perfect position to protect her, it also actively hindered him from fighting and using his full powers.

Which was exactly why he’d thrown her away.

Many people thought that Stard’s compensation was simply the ability to fly, but that was not quite true. It was actually the pure, most concentrated control of the movement channel. Salom had once explained to him that rather than controlling kinetic movement itself, it was more like he was being wrapped an invisible field of force—but Stard was less focused on the technical side of things.

To cut a long story short, although he only excelled in moving himself, he could do the same to people and objects. Wrapping up Levia in his “aura”, he gently let her float aside and made use of the opening brought by this surprise action.

Wasting no time, he landed a punch in the assassin’s stomach, causing them to grunt and expel all air from their lungs. Following with a kick by his prosthetic, he then drew the short sword hanging at his waist and prepared to slash his opponent down.

At that moment something soft hit his head, causing his slash to go wide. The assassin turned their back to him, pounded a fist into the ground and it started crumbling away.

Only then Stard realized that they’d been approaching a sheer cliff that led down into a ravine; the assassin was probably aiming to fall down, aided by their weight channeling. He couldn’t let them get away, so he gave himself a boost of speed and stabbed ahead. He hit.

“Guh…!” groaned the assassin, still sliding down as blood spurt from their body, but the collapsing edge of the cliff raised a cloud of dust. Stard slashed again and missed, clicked his tongue and chose to go diving straight down.

He could hear the low rumble of the rocks tumbling down the ravine and hurriedly ran his eyes around in an attempt to see a human figure. Unfortunately, there was no such luck.

No… they’re still back on the cliff, he thought and turned around immediately with a cautious slash, only to hit air. His guess had been wrong.

His warrior’s intuition was perhaps futile against someone that was not a fighter. He took a quick leap into the sky to check the immediate area, and then glanced down the ravine again.

Stard had wounded the assassin pretty bad. It wasn’t unthinkable for them to have simply fallen to their death. There was perhaps another way to know for sure, so he hurried back toward the Queen, who he couldn’t leave for too long anyway.

“Have you killed them?” she asked him dispassionately as if it was a mere errand. She was slightly scraped and dirty as she sat on top of a fallen log, but didn’t seem to mind it.

“Uncertain, Your Majesty. We fought over a cliff and I injured them, but couldn’t find them.” While talking, he floated around and scanned the area. He still couldn’t let his guard down.

“I’ve felt them until a moment ago,” Levia said. If so, then they were likely dead. Perhaps he would come there later to check up on that? But it seemed too much of an effort to go looking for a body. Stard nodded in relief as Levia added, “There is no one else around. Now, let us go.”

“Back to the castle, Your Majesty?”

“What? No,” said Levia, “to the King’s Plaza, of course.”

Stard blinked and furrowed his brows. “You intend on going through with this? With what just happened?”

Levia smiled. “Of course. I have promised to deliver a speech, and deliver a speech I shall. Can you imagine Qumisson’s satisfaction if I postponed this due to a mere assassination attempt?”

A mere assassination attempt? Stard thought. “That was dangerously close; you should have let me settle it all earlier, Your Majesty.”

“The result is what matters, Molton.” She rose from the trunk, lightly brushing her half-ruined dress. “The threat had been eliminated, and I’m running late. We were the ones who set up this trap in the first place, and our plan was a success, all things considered. Getting back to the carriage would be too much of a hassle, so I must rely on you to get downtown.”

Stard sighed. Whatever it may be that Salom would often call her, he always thought of her as a logical woman, but he apparently still sorely lacked knowledge about how she thought.

Well, he could never understand women.

“Understood, Your Majesty. Let us go.”

He leaned, picking up the Queen. It was unfortunate that he hadn’t brought the usual harness, because he was still hurt and bruised after the fight. Even so, he had to follow Levia’s orders. That was his way of life.

Slowly rising into the air with Levia in his aching arms, Stard gave another cursory glance over the small forest and ravine just in case, found nothing and continued ahead.

Niu sat in front of the canvas and sighed. She tried drawing a nice, calm forest scenery, but the image simply didn’t want to come to her mind.

More precisely, whenever she pictured that forest, it was instantly overlayed with images of destruction and ruin and death. How strange. Even seeing the second and third wave from up close all those years ago hadn’t caused this kind of reaction, but somehow being responsible for an entire operation that happened so far from home did.

Fortunately, that was already over. There would still be many difficulties ahead, but the long, long fight against the Stroba was done for now. She managed to accomplish what even Acrus couldn’t, or at least wouldn’t.

She decided to give up on her painting, got dressed in her formal attire and left for the throne room—she probably had mountains of reports waiting for her by this time anyway. It was surreal how much she was getting used to this new way of life.

The moment she left her workroom with NiU in tow, however, she immediately found a nervous-looking Roah who was seemingly just about to go fetch her. He was also accompanied by two large laborers.

“Queen,” he breathed, “this is an emergency. We must evacuate.”

“What is it?” Niu asked through her small laborer, feeling a chill.

“I will explain on the way,” he said, so Niu hastened her steps and followed him. They went through the many corridors and toward the stairs, where presumably she would be led down to the dedicated shelter on ground level. “We have received a report. Apparently, the human under Stroban custody has been found, but he’d taken control of the Goddess and is hostile. He’s going on a rampage and is apparently heading here. Gen’s group tried to intercept it, but failed. There were some injuries, but nothing more for now.”

What? That was too much for Niu to take in all at once. Various unrelated things seemed to be intermingled for no reason. But she could see by Roah’s expression that he was just as perplexed by this situation, if not more.

For some reason, however, despite the initial jolt of fear, Niu suddenly found herself not worrying. Roah seemed to have noticed it, for he suddenly scowled and directed his lone eye at her.

“How are you so calm?”

“Isn’t this an, opportunity?” she asked back. “We wanted to bring him, here and we wanted to do, something about Alsa, right? What was that idiom, they often use here? Burning a single, branch to bring, down the tree?”

“…That is not a positive saying,” Roah noted. “And I see what you mean, but he’s apparently very dangerous.”

“Well, then try intercepting, him, by all means. Meanwhile, I will try my own thing.”

Just as she said this through NiU, the entire castle shook. Niu nearly tumbled down the stairs and was caught by one of the laborers’ thick arms at the very last second. And it happened again.

“They’re already here…?” Roah asked, wide-eyed.

Niu smiled weakly. “It’s time to settle, everything—with our fellow human, and Goddess.”

Killing people is easy. Surprisingly so.

What may be difficult, of course, is the moments leading up to that death.

But humans are extremely fragile. Even a weapon as crude as a stick or a shard of glass can kill.

Since it’s so easy, it’s also ironically heavy. I’m not talking about guilt or anything like that, I already threw that long ago, but about the knowledge that you used your two hands to rob a life.

The moment you see their relieved pale faces, you feel the burden of your own life.