The Great Maze of Pandemonium, Fifth Layer, functions as the central hub of the Elroad Empire. Originally, it was a massive shelter and an important sector overseeing the Great Maze, which also houses hangars for ancient weapons such as sky battleships and war machines, making it a military facility as well.
This ancient military facility has been largely restored by Lily’s power, including the dining hall contained within.
The spacious dining hall of the command center is accessible only to a limited few assigned to this Fifth Layer, most of whom are Homunculi. These beings, who are utterly loyal to their creator, silently eat their meals without engaging in idle conversation. It would be more accurate to say they are engaged in nourishment as a form of work.
In a quiet corner of such a dining hall, Lily, with a not-so-pleased expression on her youthful face, was munching on a small fish skewered with her fork.
“Oh, that looks delicious. Is it a new menu item?”
“Fiona, you came here!”
With no semblance of decorum towards Her Majesty the Queen, Fiona boldly placed a tray heaped high with food right in front of Lily.
“I was in the mood to eat here today. It’s quite rare for you to come to the dining hall, isn’t it, Lily?”
“I just happened to be nearby. It doesn’t matter where I eat if I’m not with Chrono.”
Even though it is a dining hall designated for only super elites permitted to serve in the command center, it is unthinkable for the queen who rules the empire to dine alongside commoners.
However, Lily, who is not originally of royal blood, and Chrono share the same situation. The formal life is simply exhausting for them, so they are given considerations to behave freely in the Fifth Layer, where the eyes of others are limited. At the very least, the environment is more preferable for Chrono. He has no need for traditions, formalities, or etiquette if all they do is tire him.
Thus, in an environment where they need not worry about the eyes of the Homunculi, who are effectively just puppets, Lily and Fiona sat together at the same table, as they always had during their adventurer days.
“I’m fine with eating anywhere as long as it’s delicious.”
“You would say that.”
So much so that one could say the purpose of this dining hall is to provide Fiona with delicious food whenever she wants, as it reflects Chrono’s strong intentions to let her eat whatever she likes, whenever she likes, and as much as she likes.
“Are you that anxious?”
Straightforwardly, the fearless witch asked the displeased queen, having no intention of holding back.
“I at least wanted to have the Shangri-La out.”
“You cannot use immobile things, can you?”
The ultimate ancient weapon, the Sky Battleship Shangri-La, which is the pride of the Empire Army, is currently charging its power source, Ether. While it might be possible to fly around Pandemonium, it clearly lacks the energy needed to teleport via the Original Monolith.
Obviously, the Ether consumed during the previous Invasion of Beldoria, as well as the amount used to teleport to Avalon earlier, is impacting this. The Shangri-La successfully repelled the assault from the Beldoria Dragon Knight Corps, ending the battle nearly unscathed, but it cannot avoid consuming Ether no matter how hard it tries.
To send the Shangri-La to Fahren, it would need to wait for a month in this hangar to replenish the Ether. Yet Chrono did not wait that long.
“It is better than having the Black Dragon around.”
“That one cannot always fight at full strength, you know.”
Belkrosen receives a supply of magical power from Chrono, but that alone does not reinforce its overwhelming power. The contractor’s magical power is merely a key to unlock the true power, or a catalyst.
So, where does the Black Dragon’s immense power come from? Like the sky battleship, it originates from the Earth veins that circulate around this planet.
It is said that the existence of the Black Dragon, known in the world, possesses a fixed territory and does not leave it, likely because there is no need to move away from the Dragon Hole, where it can receive abundant magical power. The more powerful one is, the worse the fuel efficiency. Unless there is a sufficiently large Earth vein passing through, it is difficult for the Black Dragon to fully exert its power.
“I hate it that the elderly become unable to move quickly.”
“It’s thousands of years old, born in ancient times.”
Lily pouted at the powerful but heavily constrained Sky Battleship and Black Dragon. While embarking on an expedition without being able to fully utilize what could be considered trump cards within the Empire Army entails significant risks, Fiona shows no signs of concern. Is it genuine trust in Chrono, or is it because she really doesn’t think about it at all?
“Don’t you worry about Chrono?”
“The Apostles have already withdrawn from this Crusade, and their numbers have been scattered to around thirty thousand at best. There’s no need to recapture the capital; we just need to control one town on the mountain road where a complacent enemy is stationed. Plus, we’ll have the cooperation of Dark Elves familiar with the land… Is there any element of defeat in this?”
From the very start, there is a likelihood of victory. Even though our forces aren’t at their maximum, the number and quality are sufficient to take down the expected enemies.
Lily knows well that it is a battle they can definitely win, without needing to be told.
“Worrying doesn’t concern Chrono’s safety but rather his chastity.”
“Ugh…”
“To be honest, I regret making a promise to Brigit to hand over Chrono to her.”
“Ugh…”
A strained groan escaped Lily. It was not that a small fish bone had gotten stuck in her throat. She was just caught dead-to-rights, unable to make a sound.
“W-Well, it couldn’t be helped!”
“But you made that promise, Lily.”
“It was a situation that couldn’t be avoided!”
“Well, at that time, you had just gotten back together. You would want to do something for Chrono, even at the cost of suppressing your jealousy.”
“That’s right! I swallowed my tears and maintained the relationship with Fahren for Chrono—”
“But now, you’d rather want to forget that.”
“…That woman will definitely see this situation as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to pursue Chrono.”
“Ah, do you think so?”
“Of course! She would pretend to be significantly hurt from losing her country to evoke Chrono’s sympathy and then lure him into her body!”
“Lily, the reason you think people would act that way is that you would do the same.”
“Wouldn’t you, Fiona?”
“Absolutely not.”
“When I left crying, she took Sariel hostage and confessed to Chrono, didn’t she?”
“Of course, I would do that.”
Both Lily and Fiona would not hesitate to carry out actions that could attract Chrono’s attention. Losing a country might be sad, but neglecting a great opportunity to evoke sympathy from the man they like would be foolish.
“You’re still the same, Lily.”
“Because I am a pure and lovely fairy!”
“The eternal maiden’s heart is something to consider. You need to be able to separate these feelings to avoid harm to yourself or Chrono.”
“I-I know that already…”
She doesn’t want her jealousy to be a burden on Chrono. Yet at the same time, she is pleased with the concern shown for her.
But if she continues to depend on that feeling, it will eventually result in Chrono’s disadvantage. That is something she cannot allow. She cannot forgive herself if she were to do that.
“Are you not concerned?”
“I’m not. It’s too late of a discussion, anyway. Moreover—”
Pulling her chair back, Fiona stood up.
With a vague yet familiar face lit by a faint smile, she said, “I too will go to Fahren.”
Saying that, Fiona left.
Then, a minute later, she returned again, carrying a mountain of food.
“Are you still eating?”
“I am. Once I go to Fahren, I won’t be able to eat the food here anymore.”
“You’re just going to fortify with Morrigan, so the environment won’t make it hard for you to dine, will it?”
“I’m looking forward to having Fahren cuisine after so long.”
Seeing the witch, who was already considering what to eat next while eating, caused Lily’s heart to lighten just a bit. Even if it is an absurd and foolish answer, spilling her worries out allows her to feel refreshed.
“I still have to deal with finishing up Beldoria and preparing for the next operation, so I can’t go to Fahren… but in case of emergency, I leave it to you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll return as soon as I’m done. It would be troublesome if I deepened my feelings for too long.”
In a certain village in the northeastern part of Fahren. A commonplace village with slightly opened land and tree houses built in integration with the forest now had not a single Dark Elf in sight.
“Tch, it’s just puppets here as well!”
A knight clad in heavy silver armor swung his battle hammer down upon a fallen Wood Golem in a fit of rage.
The log body, having already lost its magical power, shattered upon being struck by the iron hammer.
“Well, well, isn’t this great, Darsley? You’ve acquired a new territory without any effort.”
“Hmm, this is rather unseemly, Priest.”
The priest from the Cross Church accompanying them offered a gentle smile to soothe the excitement and displeasure stirred up in Darsley.
They are currently the most advanced occupation force making their way through Fahren. The commander is the general’s third son, Darsley, of the Wellington Count family. This large young man who strongly inherits his father’s blood is hot-blooded for his age, holding ambitious dreams reliant on his martial prowess, much like the past Davis.
Through this Fahren campaign, he eagerly undertakes his first real battle while being in charge of expanding the territory of the Count family. Darsley, who desires success, is greatly motivated, but the enemies they face are far too weak.
“No, no, your dissatisfaction is entirely reasonable, Darsley. It is true that no worthy opponent has yet to appear for you to showcase your martial skill.”
“I’d love to say that, but… this armor is of great assistance. I truly appreciate being granted such powerful magical equipment.”
The silver armor Darsley wears is the new weapon “Mech Armor” provided by the Cross Church.
One of the supports that General Cardinal Arus offered to Count Wellington for this Fahren conquest was the transfer of fifty Mech Armors. It is a transfer and not a loan because not only is it set for actual combat testing, but also aims to have it widely distributed.
Thus, fifty powerful magical armors, along with priests necessary for supplying magical power to operate them, have been dispatched to the Count, with some allocated to accompany Darsley’s platoon at the frontline of the Fahren occupation.
“I would be pleased to assist the noble yet devout Wellington Count family as a priest. I expect even more notable achievements from you, Darsley.”
“Leave it to me! But those Dark Elves must still be hiding deep within the forest.”
“Indeed, they only summon beasts to delay us, as usual.”
The swift advance into Fahren territory is due more to the weakness of resistance in each town and village than the strength of Darsley’s platoon armed with Mech Armors.
Having already crossed a considerable number of towns and villages, it stands to reason they should have set up defensive lines in one or two relatively large towns or villages with defensible terrain. The Fahren Army that fled from the capital Nevan is expected to retreat to the former capital, Morrigan, deep within the country, and reorganize the army.
They assume they will have a showdown with a desperate team acting as a rear guard somewhere to buy time, but thus far, their efforts have been in vain.
The Dark Elves must be extraordinarily swift. Not only the soldiers but even the villagers have completely vanished.
“I wish I could have even a single woman, even if she’s just a mere villager— damn it, all that’s left are old hags who can’t even stand!”
Spitting out in disgust, Darsley kicked the corpse of a frail old woman lying beside a Wood Golem.
Her legs were thin like dry twigs, and it was obvious she was unable to stand and walk. In truth, the old woman sat in a chair with a magical tome in her embrace, likely in what appeared to be the village chief’s tree house.
It was undoubtedly this old woman who summoned the Wood Golems that fought Darsley’s platoon, and there seemed to be no other practitioners around her.
Whether she remained by her own will or was abandoned is unknown; there is no one here who knows the circumstances of the woman who had her head crushed by a hammer.
“We’ve progressed quite far east; it might be time to corner them. Even if the Demon Race has already escaped into Morrigan, it won’t be too far-fetched to think we will reach there as well.”
“Indeed, in this situation, there is no choice. Let’s hold off on seriously cutting them down until we reach Morrigan.”
“The white god shall bless Darsley’s might and devout faith.”
Just as the two turned away, thinking they had no more use for such a place…
“Enemy attack!”
“They’re here!”
“Hey, they’re hiding in the forest!”
Voices crying of impending enemy attacks mixed with the sound of a trumpet created a sudden commotion outside.
“Oh? How interesting. Have they finally decided to make a move?”
Darsley had been bored by cowards whose only capability is to flee, but now he was invigorated by the thought that they might finally be attempting a surprise attack. Channeling the white magical power into his Mech Armor, he readied himself for high-speed activation, only to be met by—
“—‘Demon King of the Storm’”
A massive shell struck. It was akin to a projectile, arriving with earth-shattering speed and impact.
Both the exterior wall of the tree house and the internal wall dividing the hall were torn apart like mere paper. Debris and dust swirled up, mingling with fresh blood and chunks of flesh.
“W-What!?”
By the time Darsley turned around in alarm, it was already standing right before him.
The pitch-black armor appeared to cloak the figure in darkness, billowing a large black mantle. At its feet lay the remains of the priest, no longer recognizable.
It had crashed in from outside and crushed the priest under its momentum.
Now, the hellish demon king gazed at Darsley with a fierce murderous intent emanating from the depths of its wicked helmet.
“W-Who the hell… are you?”
Darsley gasped, his words failing him, not merely due to the fearsome appearance of the pitch-black armor or the speed and destructive force with which it had entered.
This was a curse. A mass of curses, tremendously powerful. He realized this.
Darsley once saw a cursed weapon that his father showed him. Though still a boy then, he had an intuitive understanding of how terrifying and grotesque such a thing could be.
Yet, the cursed sword that had terrified him back then now felt like a mere toy a child might wield.
The figure before him clutched a sword of immense size, imbued with a curse far beyond the one he previously saw. It was on a different level entirely.
Furthermore, the pitch-black armor enveloping the figure was likely cursed as well. It definitely harbored immense curses comparable to those of a machete-like great sword.
But the most terrifying thing of all was the individual donning both the tremendously cursed sword and armor. While cloaked in curses that could drive one to madness from mere contact, it spoke in a disturbingly calm voice:
“You wear nice armor. You are the commander, aren’t you?”
“Ugh… ghu…”
What was this thing? What was this thing? How could it remain sane?
Confronted with the overwhelming pressure of rising curses manifesting as red-black aura, Darsley felt as if he were the one who was losing his sanity. However, his honed body and mind, along with the divine armor which further elevated his prowess, helped him maintain his rationality and fighting spirit.
And there was where Darsley’s limit lay.
“If you are the commander, I have many questions to ask you. Don’t worry, I will use the flat of the sword.”
As he turned his single-edged great sword around, Darsley never registered the moment he was struck with the cursed, blunted edge.