That night, after the end of the fifth match and Kuze the Passing Disaster's win by default. The elderly Eleventh Minister, Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell, returned home to his residence, another man in tow.
The guest gazed out over the state of his home and spat out a single comment.
"What a dump."
The young man, cigarette in his mouth, left a crude and vulgar impression. The light fading from it, the cigarette itself almost gone entirely, yet he still kept it fast in his mouth.
"Haah. Is that so? If you compared it to the prosperity of everyone in Sun's Conifer… Well then, I suppose it may look a bit humble."
The young man's name was Giza the Wingsword. He was the second-in- command of the guild, Sun's Conifer.
Sun's Conifer—children who had engaged in the harsh labor of mining radzio ore on the frontier—started their own enterprise and climbed up from nothing amid an age of upheaval, unscrupulous about their means. However, their leader, Jivlart the Ash Border, had suffered a shameful death right before his match against Aureatia's strongest champion, Rosclay, and the guild's path to rising further up in the world was severed.
Killed in a woman's house, there were those spreading slanderous rumors regarding Jivlart's abilities and conduct, and there were repeated incidents of their members hearing said rumors, and getting violent with the city's citizens.
Lacking a leader to set their course of action, Sun's Conifer was now losing their place within Aureatia. From the very beginning, they were uneducated young men who were unable to grow accustomed to the peaceful metropolis.
"However… Well, I think it's a perfectly adequate apartment to have a chat. At the very least, we won't have anyone listening in to what we say. There aren't any inhabitants on either side of me, you see. Ha-ha…"
"Spare me the stupid preamble. What happened to the person who killed Jivlart?"
"…Yes, yes. Let me begin things by saying Master Jivlart was killed by Elea the Red Tag, having rebelled against the Aureatia Assembly, and let's see… For example, whether it came from being seduced by her charms or that he was embarrassingly killed by a woman's slender arms—"
Giza's hands moved faster than his mouth.
He grabbed Nophtok by the collar, before then driving his fist into Nophtok's face. Blood spilled from the elder's nose.
"Gah, bwaugh."
"Go ahead, asshole, Hey. Say that again, why don't ya."
"I-it's not my… There are citizens repeating these sorts of rumors. H-haah… Phew. Pardon me. I—I need time…to get my breathing in order… What I'm saying is that…they're wrong. It wasn't a woman who killed Jivlart."
"..."
"You and your group believe as much, yes…? Hence why you're angry at the citizens' rumors. You have to find out the true culprit, the truth of the incident… I understand."
"Who is it? Tell me that first. Which asshole's the culprit? I-I'm going to kill them… I'll use Sun's Conifer's combined strength to turn 'em into mincemeat. Even if we pound them down straight to hell, it still won't be enough."
"…I require a bit of courage to disclose this fact…as it concerns my own reputation as well."
It was all a made-up story. He was relating a complete fabrication, the sort that Sun's Conifer would hope was indeed the truth.
Contrary to what he said, Nophtok held no value in his name or reputation. Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell's official post was charged with controlling the
Order. It was a position where he was simply denounced by the Order leadership for his supervisory responsibilities and criticized for the neglect.
Nophtok harbored, in some senses, a monstrous mental spirit that eclipsed all others, having worked unselfishly, going with the flow, and following the wills of others, and as a result, he arrived at the position most bereft of prestige, the seat of the Eleventh Minister.
Taking up residence in a housing complex in the slums while also being one of Aureatia's most authoritative individuals, the drab interior possessed neither furniture to indicate his tastes nor any articles that expressed his experiences in life.
It was a room where he simply ate, slept, and woke up. A life of this, day in and day out.
His disinterest was abnormal, completely different in nature from Yuca the Halation Gaol's own lack of unselfishness.
"I believe the Order I've been charged with…is involved somehow in Master Jivlart's death."
"…No way."
Giza answered incredulously, his face bright red.
"The Order… Those Order guys… Jivlart took really good care of 'em all… Said he loved the kids… That since the kids aren't prejudiced, they don't look at us like we're bad guys."
"Ah yes. I am aware."
It was because everyone looked at Jivlart so coldly that he had wanted children at least to think of him well.
A lowly, infantile thought.
Through an investigation, Nophtok already knew that even in Aureatia, their guild had continued their criminal activities. Unable to reform his fundamental evil nature, he instead tried to earn the approval of innocent children.
It was exploiting approval from the weak.
Nophtok felt that men like those in Sun's Conifer were the ones who truly needed to face punishment.
"There was a priest in training at the almshouse Jivlart supported by the name of Naijy the Rhombus Knot. Were you aware of the fact that he died by suicide?"
"…He died right after Jivlart went. Like hell I'd forget. We… Right when we were talkin' about pooling money together and keeping that place going."
"I see. Did you consult with Naijy on the matter?"
"Of course we didn't. We wanted to get everything squared away and then go cheer 'im up."
"I see… In any event, one of the reasons for his suicide was an incident, see… Where he found one of the destinations he tried to send an orphan, in fact, turned out to be a slave trader."
"…What?"
"Indeed. An internal investigation proved that there is someone within the order who was tightly connected with such an organization. Master Jivlart must have realized that the almshouse he was donating to had this strange business going on. As a result, well…"
"Wait, wait, hold on."
Giza once again went to pull Nophtok in by his collar but realized what he
was doing himself and stopped.
"Even if that was true… I can't believe Jivlart'd get knocked off by any regular bastard. The Order folks don't train for combat or anything. Who then. Who got 'im?"
"You appear to have realized the answer yourself, Master Giza."
Nophtok spread pictures out across the table. Pictures of assassins' corpses, the ones he had dispatched against Kuze.
"Dammit…"
Nophtok's job was always dirty work.
Thus now, with the winner of the fifth match decided, was when he truly needed to make a move. In order to dispose of his candidate.
"The order's paladin, Kuze the Passing Disaster. He is an assassin secretly working behind the scenes of the Sixways Exhibition. Conspiring together with Elea the Red Tag, he assassinated Master Jivlart."
Kuze had won. Not a simple victory, either, but a win by default.
There was a high likelihood that he and Tu the Magic, and thus her sponsor, Flinsuda, had made some sort of deal right before the match. The Order, as an organization, was on its last legs, but if they turned Flinsuda the Portent and her immense wealth into an ally, the power relationships in the Sixways Exhibition would shift dramatically.
It was possibly the Gray-Haired Child, instead. There was a chance he colluded with Aureatia's largest dissidents and used some scheme to dispose of Tu the Magic.
It would have been better if Kuze had simply won. A victory for Kuze means the death of his opponent… It means I wouldn't have to worry about there being any surviving pieces left in play.
However, given that he had taken moves to reject the match itself, he needed to fear the possibility that now Kuze the Passing Disaster and Tu the Magic were both rising in revolt against Aureatia, together. Once the strongest spear and the strongest shield had combined forces, there were very few players who could possibly topple their absoluteness, even among the other hero candidates.
At this point, I can still dispose of Kuze. Right now, while his vulnerability still remains in Aureatia… I can't let this opportunity slip by.
Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell mildly accepted being treated as an incompetent older man, never letting his artless and modest expression and tone falter.
However, he was a member of the Twenty-Nine Officials exactly because of his excellence and capability. On behalf of Rosclay, still critically wounded from
the fourth match and unable to issue orders, he could move quickly to fulfill his own role.
"Kuze the Passing Disaster… Kuze, huh."
Giza the Wingsword's face twisted in anger, and he lit the cigarette in his mouth.
Nophtok heaved a fatigued sigh.
"I… I cannot stand that the Order has produced such a man. I needed to get your guild's cooperation in order to finally put him down for good."
"…Bring him on. Damn the bastard. I'll drop him down into the pits of hell."
The sole weakness of Kuze the Passing Disaster was clear. Even a powerless elderly man like Nophtok could dispose of him.
In order to enact his plan, he needed a myopic and ethically bankrupt group to work with.
"We'll take his tools of the trade, the children, hostage."
A short walk away from the almshouse Kuze grew up in, there was a small pond.
A murky pond, dirtied by algae and mysterious plant life.
On the opposite shore, the old vestiges of a divine idol were buried in the roots, and while the children never paid it any mind, thinking about it now, it had been a spooky place.
The pond's waters barely came up to the children's knees, but since there was a cleaner and fish-filled river near the almshouse, none of the children played there. The only one who visited was Kuze.
Slipping out of the church complex late at night all alone, he'd often get yelled at by the priests.
To them, young Kuze must have been an awful handful of a child.
He was always alone as he traveled the somber path, stepping over the grass wet with night dew and hearing the chirping of insects resounding around him.
However, once night fell, there was someone there singing. A tiny, faint, boyish voice.
It was a song no one knew.
Because the Word Arts weren't of this world.
He asked his friends, he asked the teachers, but there wasn't anyone who knew about the singer. It was a very quiet song, so Kuze thought that no one else could hear it except for him.
The nighttime memories remained because Kuze picked that time to go see her.
He thought it was a sacred spectacle, one that no one else should be there to witness.
Moonlight. The warble of the trees, waving in the wind.
A soft song, only audible in that moment when the world fell silent.
A beautiful terror and mystery, as if catching a glimpse of a far-off place beyond the reach of Word Arts.
It was an angel.
Pure-white hair. Pure-white clothes. Pure-white wings.
She had no weight. She was able to dance on top of a single flower petal.
A being who, during the time of creation, had been here with the original visitors to their world.
As though she had been left behind in the cogwheels of the world, her eyes couldn't see anything, and her ears couldn't hear. She was an afterimage of the creation, any meaning behind wielding the power she was given now gone, simply existing there until the day she should disappear.
Why was only Kuze able to see her? Why did she choose Kuze?
Why did she bring death?
The rain was pouring down in the Aureatia night.
Gas lamps were sparse in this town in the Western Outer Ward, and it didn't have the same activity seen in central Aureatia.
However, Kuze the Passing Disaster could hear the festival-like hustle and bustle echoing from afar.
"Light. Dammit, there's light. It's all up in flames! Zigita Zogi!"
He shouted to the man on the other side of the radzio. The first person he reported the situation to was Zigita Zogi the Thousandth, in a collaborative relationship with Kuze.
However, Kuze had once again been too late. He was sure of it.
"Still… Still, right now there are kids sleeping inside there! The guy who watched over the place, Naijy's gone, too, so there's no one protect them at night!"
That night, Sun's Conifer had mobilized in great numbers and occupied the almshouse.
Kuze had immediately learned about the trouble thanks to contact from Zigita Zogi, and rushed over immediately, but of course Ozonezma, still heavily wounded from the third match, nor Hiroto and Zigita Zogi, under surveillance by the Twenty-Nine Officials, could act directly in response to the situation.
<…Master Kuze. Should it be necessary, I can mobilize our goblin force and eliminate Sun's Conifer without issue. However, our opponent has this large number at their command. I believe it's reasonable to think the news of a goblin unit closing in on them would instead fan the group's already excited emotional state. As for the excuse to give Aureatia's side of things, claiming we were independently cooperating with the city to maintain public safety…would be somewhat difficult. While suppressing the group itself may be possible, we might not be able to ensure the safety of the hostages.>
"…Zigita Zogi. You know, I… Bweh-heh-heh. I killed Nofelt. That's how far I went…to try to win the Sixways Exhibition. I wanted to help the Order. Truly."
"No. You got it wrong. I'm not trying to fault you or anything."
Kuze smiled hollowly. It was self-deprecation about the irony currently attacking him.
"If it was Nofelt… I'm sure he would've mobilized the army for them immediately. See, he grew powerful and influential to help save the Order. If that's the case, then…just what did I do?"
<…In any event, Nofelt would not have returned to Aureatia until the eighth match, correct? Aureatia's handling of Order-related matters would have remained the same as it is now.>
"I… I had been his friend, too. He was even the one who taught me how to
count. That guy even had that amazing talent of his. And yet…"
Kuze had several other Order comrades. Kind ones. Wise ones. Strong ones.
All of them were ground down together by the age of the True Demon King and would never return.
Kuze, alone, was now a shura.
"…Bweh-heh-heh. For what, then?"
"…Forget it."
Everyone living in this world had their own ideas and their own language.
They wanted there to be a wicked somebody who could bear the blame for their own suffering. It was a childish hope.
Perhaps it was because of such hopes that the True Demon King was born in the first place.
"I'll go."
Kuze had given up. Just like that day Cunodey had died. Like the day Rozelha had died.
<…Please don't give up, Master Kuze. If you fight, then—>
"Hey. Zigita Zogi. Don't you think maybe…maybe even I should be able to talk things out? Without any killing or being killed… Some kinda…"
If Kuze the Passing Disaster fought, there was guaranteed to be death.
That was why he carried a great shield. So that he wouldn't kill his enemies. "…some sort of magical outcome like that."
A bell could be heard from the church. A bell announcing the end of the day. The black-clad assassin flew into the middle of the light.
Even if there was nothing but darkness in the future beyond it.