Volume 4: The Great Bewitchment of the Underhanded Battle

Intermission: Regarding Another Hero

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“You really like to read, don’t you!”

A cute and girly voice called out to him, so he raised his head. Sure enough, there was a girl. A real pretty one, too. She was around his age - fifteen or sixteen, give or take. She had an upturned nose and a proportional face. Her blonde hair was long and wavy.

“……”

That was right: she had blonde hair, a color that was not found inside of his country. His eyes narrowed as they followed the waves in her hair. Then he looked to her eyes, closed his book, and spoke.

“…Actually, I kind of hate reading?”

She laughed. It was awful. Awfully naïve. “Geez! You’re full of lies. Why do you come to the library every single day, then?”

He shrugged. “Nowhere else to go.”

“Nowhere to go? Ha. That’s the first time that I’ve ever heard someone say that there’s ‘nowhere to go’ here in the capital of Stohl, the greatest country in the Northern Continent!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. There’s so many places to go here that you’d die before you made it through them all.”

“So I’d die trying, huh?”

“Yeah. You’d die.”

He smiled bitterly. It was all he could do when he saw her smile so innocently. “So why are you standing around in this library if you have so many fun places here?”

“…Well,” she started, and her eyebrows furrowed. Then she smiled, awkward as could be. “It’s just that… you’re my type.”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, my. What’s up with that indifferent reply?”

“No, it’s not that I’m indifferent. You’re pretty. Especially that blonde hair of yours.”

She smiled. It was so innocent. Like she truly didn’t worry about anything at all. She fully understood her beauty and the value in it. “This is the first time that I’ve gotten a compliment like that about my hair. It’s not that special…”

“It’s beautiful,” he said. “And that dress looks really good on you, too.”

She reddened. He looked at her moist eyes, then to her blonde hair, contrasted by her navy dress. 

“……”

He recalled his birthplace—a small settlement in the northern tip of the continent. Those outside of his home would consider his hair unusual, but there, over half of the population was born with this rare pink hair. Of course, he was the same. He, his family, and friends all had it, for the most part.

Maybe it was because of that that people weren’t born blond. Why, he had no idea. All he knew was that at home, they didn’t have any blonds. In fact, he’d never seen it before.

That was why he was fascinated by her. Her and her blonde hair.

A thought occurred to him as he stared at her hair.

“……”

He thought of the man who led the large army that beheaded his father, who had been chief of his settlement. The man who gave the order to abduct and rape his mother and the other women of the village, then kill them once they were done. The man who forced them to surrender.

He had blond hair, too.

He was the king of Imperial Stohl, Fennen Daras.

It seemed that their nobility was, as a whole, born blond. Those of noble lineages, too, were typically blond.

In other words, she was a blonde noble. Her dress was classy and her accessories looked painfully expensive. When she spoke, she had his full attention.

“…Your hair is a rare color, too,” she said. “Really. It’s the first time that I’ve ever seen someone with pink hair.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it weird?”

“No, I think it’s really pretty.”

“You really do?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Okay, cool. Thanks for the compliment.” He raised his hands up to gesture that he was happy.

She laughed. Her smile was so innocent. He laughed, too.

“……”

She was funny. She thought his pink hair was cute. She didn’t know anything about what her people did to them. She didn’t even know who his people were. She had no idea. She just laughed about it, naïve as could be.

He sneered.

He was the son of Royl Edea, leader of the settlement on the extreme northern end of the continent, Gastark.

It had been three years since he was captured and taken hostage following a battle at the northernmost canyon where his people lived and had decided to strike back against the occupying forces of Stohl.

It wasn’t just him, either. The eldest sons of the Pintest and Orla houses had been taken and brought here, too. The official story was that they’d been received as nobles here, but…

“…You think we’re inconsequential,” he muttered.

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing. It seems like you don’t care much for history. That’s all.”

She looked confused. “Why do you say that?”

“Do you know about Gastark?” he asked.

“Gastark?”

“You don’t know.”

“No, I know about it. They were a powerful but violent group of people. Royl Edea led them, right? I heard that the Stohl army liberated those poor suffering people from his tyrannical rule a few years ago.”

That was how the victors wrote history, it seemed.

The book he was reading now was like that, too. It was full of embarrassing lies from cover to cover. It was one of many such books.

But the Stohl army that they spoke of was the side that killed his father, raped their women, and pillaged their homes.

But Gastark hadn’t done anything to them. They had been a peaceful rural society, living out common lives. That was all they were. That was all.

She was still confused, so she asked him, “what about it?”

“Nothing. I was just reading about it,” he said and motioned to his book of eight hundred lies. “That’s all.”

Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me that you’re some kind of history nerd!”

He shook his head. “No matter how I look at it, I can’t stand history.”

She looked so doubtful. “Huuuh?”

“I’m serious. No matter what history book I pick up, it’s all the same—boring from cover to cover. It’s all the same story: people fight, people die, and only those who are left can write about it. But people are greedy, so those who lived to fight again will do so, since they always want more, more, more, and more… To be honest, I’m sick of it,” he spat.

She stared for a moment, a serious expression on her face… but then she smiled. “We call people who think about that stuff ‘history nerds,’ you know.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yup.”

“Then I guess it’s true. So? Are you disillusioned with me now, since I’m into boring things like this?”

She shook her head, then met his eyes. “No, I think it’s cool. All the men around me spend their time partying, drinking, and chasing skirts… it’s my first time meeting a guy like you.”

He laughed. “My head’s full of skirts too, you know. Especially when I see a cute girl like you,” he said and held his hand out, motioning for her to come closer.

She reddened. “I don’t even know your name y…”

“Riphal. Riphal Edea. And yours is?”

“I’m—”

Just then, someone called out to him.

“Riphaaaal!”

Sure enough, another man in the library was yelling his name.

But Riphal ignored him. “Now, your name…?”

“Hey, pay attention to meeee. Please listen to me, Riphal.”

“Your name—”

“I’m telling you to listen!”

“Your n—”

“Hey! Hurry up and listen to me, Riphal! Riphal Riphal Riphal—!”

“Auuughhh shut uuuppp!” Riphal finally yelled. Then he turned around and glared at the pain in the ass who was yelling his name. 

He was an attractive young man holding a book about the structure of the Stohlian magic system. He was pale with clear eyes, and he had the same pink hair as Riphal. He wore a blue military uniform.

He was Rigwaltz Pintest, the eldest son of the Pintest household who had come to Stohl along with Riphal as a hostage. He was Riphal’s childhood friend. Riz, he called him.

Riphal glared. “The hell do you want, Riz? I was just getting to the good part!” he yelled.

Riz looked at Riphal with his clear blue eyes, then shot a nasty look at the blonde girl behind him. “Riphal, do you honestly think that would be a good match for you?” His tone was light, but his words were harsh.

“Haaaah!?” the blonde girl—what was her name?—yelled, hostile beyond belief. “Hey, Riphal. Who does he think he is!?”

“No, wait, just ignore him—”

“Really, Riphal?” Riz interrupted. “We are the prideful people of Gastark, and she looks like she has nothing more than breadcrumbs for brains. Do you have no shame? I don’t think you do!”

By now, her face was bright red. It wasn’t anything like the embarrassed red from before. Now, it was only colored by anger. She glared at Riz, then turned on Riphal. “Haaah? What’s up with you two? Gastark? Really? You’re what, the hostages from the countryside powerhouses of Gastark? You bumpkins would speak to me, daughter of Duke Sepul, in a tone like that?”

Her face was scrunched up with hate, but even so, she was still pretty cute. Damn shame about what happened here. But the worst part was the position that this was putting them in. If her dad was a duke, then this was bad. Really bad. That was someone who they didn’t want to get the attention of. It was highly possible that everything they’d worked for up until now would go out the window.

He had to patch things up, but he flailed at the critical moment. “H-hey, hear me out. What he’s saying is just—”

Riz cut him off. “Would you look at that? This bitch’s true nature has come out to play. You saw it, right, Riphal? This is the real her. She doesn’t suit you at all.”

“S-shut u—”

“I w-won’t forgive you,” she muttered. “I absolutely will not forgive you!”

“Wait, come on, it’s all a misunderstanding—”

“I absolutely won’t forgive you! I’ll kill you. I’ll tell my dad all about you, and he’ll have you killed for me!” she screamed, on the verge of tears. Then she took off towards the door leading out of the library.

Riphal stared after her, then grimaced. It soon turned into a glare that he fixed on Riz. “You littleeee—!”

Riz looked like he didn’t understand what he did wrong. At all. “Oh, what a relief,” he said. “I’m so glad that an awful woman like her didn’t eat you up.”

“It’s not a good thing!” Riphal yelled, but Riz ignored him.

“In the first place, you’ve been spending too much time with girls ever since we came to Stohl. These are the children of our people’s enemy! What on earth is so fun about being with them? Ugh, your taste is just awful.”

Riphal was beyond done with him. “What? What ground do you have to call my taste bad? You’re the one who can’t get enough of the girls. How many people have you hooked up with since we came here?”

Riz thought for a moment, then started counting on his fingers. One, two, three, four… then he suddenly decided that counting was too much of a pain and changed his strategy. “None, I’d say.”

“You fucking liaarrr!”

“Well, aha, it’s certainly less than you.”

“Liar! You damned liar! You’ve been with twice as many as me! Twice! You horny bastard!”

Riz smirked. “What, are you jealous? To think that you, Riphal, are jealous of me for being more popular…”

“I’m not! I mean, what? What are you even saying? Is it a competition now? Are you challenging me to see who’s more popular out of the two of us?” Riphal yelled.

Sure enough, Riz stood and nodded. “Fine. Shall we settle it with a match to see who can net more girls for the next three days?”

Riphal stood to face him. “Sure, if that’s what you want to do.”

A third voice spoke to them. “The hell is ‘what you want to do?’ You horny brats.”

Riphal and Riz both looked over to him. There was a man standing at the entrance to the library. One with Gastark’s characteristic pink hair. He was two or three years older than Riphal and Riz. He had a cheerful expression, but that cheerfulness carried a certain sharpness.

He too was a hostage from Gastark: Lir Orla, oldest son of the Orla household, born as God’s Representative. 

The three of them were childhood friends. They’d grown up together. Who would have thought that they’d be brought to this country together, too?

Their parents were killed.

Their whole families were killed.

Their friends were killed.

Their lovers were killed.

Their country was stolen.

Their land was stolen.

They were taken hostage, too.

But even so, they were together.

They were familiar with each other to the point where Riphal was downright sick of their faces. Seeing someone every single damn day of your life would do that to anyone.

Even so, somehow, despite everything, Lir had managed to disappear for a while. It’d been about three months since they last saw each other, give or take. So Riphal smiled when he saw him.

“Geez, you’re late. I got tired of waiting. Do you have any idea what it’s been like since you left us here in Stohl? We’re powerless without you. You know that, right? We had no choice but to go drown ourselves in drinks and girls, gambling it all away. It’s so hard acting like this. It’s destroying our bodies.”

Lir laughed. “Had a little too much fun, then?”

“Yeah, exactly. It’s because Stohl’s women are all so beautiful… right?” Riz said with a laugh. Then he approached Lir and patted his shoulder. In an instant, his frivolous facade crumbled to pieces. It was replaced with a serious face and a low tone. “So what happened? Tell us everything. You didn’t come back empty-handed, did you?”

Lir nodded. “No need to worry. It went well.” Then he looked at Riphal. “Now, Riphal. We’ll soon reach the point of no return. Are you prepared?

“……”

Riphal smiled.

Was he prepared? He’d been prepared a long time ago.

He’d been waiting for this since the day that his parents were killed and his home was stolen from him.

“……”

No, that wasn’t true.

He’d been prepared even before that. He’d been waiting before that. Maybe he’d always been waiting.

Maybe he’d been waiting ever since he was born as the oldest son of Gastark’s king.

The Edea family was cursed. They had been chosen by the sword that devoured life, Glowvelle.

The sword devoured life.

It devoured hope.

It devoured dreams.

Not just that of people, either—Gods, Demons, Goddesses.

It was said that it could devour everything in this world. That meant that it wasn’t something that should exist in this world. It shouldn’t even exist in this dimension.

But it did.

It wasn’t supposed to, but it did.

He heard about it in a story that his dad told him while he was nestled up against his pillow in bed.

It was a story made painful by the truth.

His father told him all about it.

“…There is something in this world that betrays all that is logical. It is something that shouldn’t exist, and that ‘thing’ is encroaching on our world from a place called Erel.”

“…Erel? What’s that?”

“That’s something that I don’t know. But I’ve heard about it, and believe that it exists.”

“Hmm.”

“There’s more to the story, too,” his father said, and continued. It was hard to understand - the words and expressions he used were too advanced for him at the time. No, even now, it was hard to make sense of it all.

But every day, every single day, his father told him that story. He said that he’d heard it from his own father, too. It’d been passed down through many generations of the Edea family, never skipping a soul.

His father continued. “The center of the world as we could see it split open, and a Priest appeared from the other side. But that Priest looked nothing like a human. It was distinctly ‘other’—some living creature, but not human. Never human. They emitted a sort of light, but they were not divinity either. They were something else completely. Something uncanny. Those who came from the other side of logic - from Erel - were always uncanny to the point of being grotesque,” he said.

“As those Priests came to us, they sorted people based on their own logic. They searched for those who could bear their ‘power’—a strange power that shouldn’t have existed in our world. It’s said that the majority of humanity perished as part of their screening. Then they found someone: a young man by the name of Riphal Edea.”

“That’s my name!”

“Yes, it is. That’s how you got your name. We named you after him, the blueprint.”

“He was an amazing person, wasn’t he!”

His father shook his head. “He was a sad person.”

“Sad?”

“That’s right. Because he was the very first person to bear the curse,” his father said. 

The Priests chose him, and this is what they said:

—Riphal Edea. We have chosen you. Now, we will encase you with the words of our contract.

Riphal answered.

—I don’t want it. I don’t want to make a contract with you.

—Hahaha, hahaha—

—Help me! Someone help me! I don’t want to be cursed!

—Hahaha, hahaha—

—Someone, anyone, help me!

Riphal screamed and screamed, but it was useless. He was an ignorant and powerless boy. What could he possibly do? It wasn’t possible for him to break out of this. It shouldn’t have been.

The Priests raised their black swords. They were long, too long, and throwing them made it look like they continued forever. They stabbed the ground, and the world began to rumble. It shook to the point that it felt as though it was losing form and the world was ending.

The priests spoke.

—Now, bear this sword. Take it, Riphal Edea. Take the sword, Riphal Edea. Take Glowvelle in your hands, and everything will come back anew, Riphal Edea.

—I hate this, I hate it, I hate it!

Riphal screamed again, but it didn’t change anything. He couldn’t move his own body freely. It moved itself. His legs moved, his body moved, and the sword—his hands moved by their own volition, intent on grasping it.

—No, no more! Someone, please! Save me!

Riphal screamed, but nobody was left to save him. They’d all been killed already. The people who were important to him were all gone. The Priests had killed them. Their human blood, flesh, bones, souls, hatred, dreams, hopes, and despair mixed together created this sword. Tens of thousands of lives were sacrificed for this sword called Glowvelle.

Riphal’s family, friends, and lover were torn from him, cut into pieces and mashed together while they screamed from despair until there was nothing left to scream. But they still said that wasn’t enough. That it wasn’t ‘complete.’ That it wasn’t enough for them to save the world.

The mad Goddesses.

The Demons from another dimension.

They said that it wasn’t enough power to restore the ground that the Fallen Black Hero had desecrated with death.

So the Priests spoke.

—Now, take the sword, Riphal Edea, and bring this world back to life. You will become a true hero - the Hero of Salvation, one who creates an eternal paradise, one without conflict, out of this world. It is for this purpose that we held our hands out for you to take. It is for this purpose. Take the sword, and complete Glowvelle.

They gave him an order.

—Take the sword in hand and devour that woman to complete the sword.

Riphal had no way to disobey. He tried with all of his strength, but his body wouldn’t listen to him at all. There was nothing that he could do.

The sword was buried in the earth, distorting it to its core. He pressed a hand to it, and it came to his palm as though it had free will of its own—like it had been a part of him since the very beginning.

In that instant, he felt pleasure unlike what he had ever felt before. It vibrated inside of him, a feeling so powerful that it could have easily wiped him to a clean slate and controlled him forever after.

But Riphal screamed.

He went against that pleasure and screamed.

—I hate this. Stop, please! This is enough. Why play with me like this? If you’re going to kill me, then just hurry up and do it!

But they wouldn’t grant his wish. The Priests laughed—ha, ha, haha, ha—and that was that.

Did that laughter really come from them, or was it some ‘other’ being? He didn’t even know that. The pleasure was still racing through his veins. He couldn’t focus. Nothing made sense.

He held the sword, and raised it up to the crying woman before him, just as the laughing Priests ordered.

He held it against her.

He held it against his mother.

—Riphal.

His mother spoke to him as she cried, but despite everything, there was a small smile on her lips.

—Don’t worry, Riphal. It isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.

He did everything in his power to resist obeying the Priests. He did everything he could to keep his feet from taking a step towards her. He fought himself from raising the sword to kill her.

—Ah, aah, I hate this. I can’t kill my own mother. I absolutely can’t kill her!

He screamed, but his legs moved on their own, taking steps towards his mother so that he could kill her.

It made him want to cry… no, he was already crying. He bit down hard on his lip as he tried to stand his ground, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped.

His resistance was meaningless.

—Why? How did things end up like this?

—It is for the sake of your world.

—Who cares about the world!?

—Haha, hahaha—

—I don’t care about this world! So stop this, please. Just stop!

Riphal couldn’t stop.

He took a step, then another.

And the sword.

He raised the black longsword up and pointed it at the nape of his mother’s neck.

—N, noooo! Save me! Save me, please, from this strange world…

He screamed and screamed, but even he understood by now that there was absolutely nothing that he could do.

He hadn’t moved fast enough. He had missed his chance completely, and now everything was ruined. He knew that.

Because of him, the worst possible ending had come to be the truth.

He raised the sword against his mother with his own two hands…

But then his mother spoke. Her voice was filled with sadness, and she looked at him with lonely eyes.

—It’s okay. It’s okay, Riphal. You can’t kill me, so don’t cry. You don’t need to feel guilty. You aren’t responsible for the horrible things that have happened. So you don’t need to cry, okay?

Her soft smile still held so much love for him.

Riphal gazed at her kind smile.

—But, but Mom, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. My body won’t listen to me. At this rate, I’ll… I’ll…

His mother spoke when he faltered.

—It’s okay. You can’t kill me. I didn’t raise a child who could kill. So don’t worry.

—But…

—It’s okay. Really. But… I’m sorry, Riphal, for leaving you here all alone in this awful world where you’ve already lost everything. I’m sorry. You will be alone, but… I will always, always love you. I have wished for nothing but your happiness from the second you were born. So even if I disappear, even if everyone disappears, you must live.

—I hate being alone. I hate it!

Riphal screamed, and in that instant, the eerie black sword moved ever closer to her neck.

He began to shiver. He was terrified.

He watched her smile. For some reason, she looked a little happy.

—It’s okay. I won’t let you kill me.

She raised her hand up to the gap between the sword and her neck.

—I love you, Riphal.

Those were her last words before she grabbed the blade of his sword in her hand, and sliced her own head off.

—Ah…

There was nothing else he could say. It’d already happened. The sword had penetrated her neck. Her blood poured out, then was sucked into the sword. Even so, her lips were smiling despite the tears in her loving eyes. She looked like she wanted to say something… but that was impossible now. The sword had sucked that up, too.

He understood what she had wanted to say: the same ones that she had said before.

I love you, Riphal.

I love you, Riphal.

I love you, Riphal.

So…

So live.

With that, she disappeared.

He was silent. Couldn’t speak.

He dropped the sword that had pierced and swallowed his mother. It stabbed into the ground, but it didn’t shake it this time. The logic defying instability of the world had left with his mother.

The Priests spoke.

—It’s complete.

Riphal responded.

—I’ll kill you.

So the Priests laughed.

—Ha ha ha, ha ha ha—

—I’m not kidding. I will kill you all.

—There is another opponent for you to kill.

—I’ll kill you.

—There is another darkness for you to cut through.

—I’ll kill you.

—You cannot yet use that sword. You are chosen, and nothing more. The sword is complete, but you are not.

He couldn’t understand what the Priests were saying. He couldn’t comprehend what they meant. It had nothing to do with him anyway. He’d kill them. He’d kill all of them. He’d destroy this sad and rotten world and all of the monsters that had a hand in making it.

That was what Riphal thought.

And the sword. The cursed sword. He took it in his hands. The sword that held the blood, flesh, and despair of those who he cherished, mixed together to form its curse.

He tried to swing it to cut the Priests apart, but he still couldn’t move.

The Priests spoke.

—Do not be so impatient, little hero. You are not yet complete. The sword is unusable. You cannot use it yet, but the day that you can wield it will soon come. The day where this world will be resurrected and freed from the hideous Hero, Goddesses, and Demons that violated it will soon come. Until then, you will be here, struggling to exist in this world of nothingness.

When the Priests stopped talking, the scenery opened up.

There was an open door leading to the other side of everything, and the Priests made to exit through it.

—Wait! Don’t run away!

Riphal screamed, but the Priests didn’t respond.

—Wait! I’ll kill you before long, so wait for me!

He screamed, but the Priests didn’t even turn around to face him. They disappeared, just like that.

Only Riphal was left on the other side of the door. All other humans who had once lived here now resided in the mad sword. He was the only one left in this world.

Only Riphal Edea was left here in the continent of Gastark.

He screamed.

—W-wait, please!

Riphal Edea screamed.

—P-please don’t leave me alone!

It was the scream of the beginning of a small hero.

—Don’t leave me all alone here in this rotten place!

Right then, he got a reply.

It was right where the world was ripped open. Right where the Priests were.

He wasn’t sure when, but at some point a small girl appeared there, all by herself.

Riphal instantly understood that she was not human. He understood that she was too beautiful to be human.

He stared at that girl, too shocked to think.

He stared at her hair, a pink hue that he had never seen before.

—Who are you?

The girl smiled, and responded.

—I am what will complete you. Now, let us join together. You and I will give birth to the one who can kill the Demons. To the one who can overrule the Goddesses. To the one who will bestow the Hero with despair. It starts with you and I.

That was the end of the story that his father had told him every night.

Ultimately, it seemed that the first Riphal Edea had never managed to wield the Sword of Resurrection, Glowvelle. In fact, it seemed that after that, Glowvelle had never awoken a second time. 

That girl with the pink hair who existed somewhere past the bounds of logic and Riphal Edea gave birth to children who built a village. It seemed that after that, nobody ever came across a reason to wield the sword, even as time ran its course through many generations.

And that was exactly why—

“That’s exactly why we gave you his name,” Riphal’s father had said. “The name of the first ‘him’, Riphal. Just like him, we want you to persevere in the face of death and despair. He tried to wield that sword until the end, even when he was the only one left. We want you to live without fighting, without killing, by having fun with your friends. We want you to stare lovingly at your beautiful wife, mother of your large loving family. We want you to laugh so much that you could die in the midst of your peaceful days. That’s why we gave you his name. Do you understand, Riphal?”

Every night, Riphal had nodded into his pillow as an answer to that question. It happened again and again. He was asked, and he nodded. “You mean that I should be kind to women, never betray my friends, and never hold grudges, right? That I should always walk the path that I believe is right?

His father had smiled happily. He’d always smiled like that, every single day, as he raised Riphal through his childhood.

His father was truly strong. He was kind to women, never betrayed his friends, and was never jealous of anyone. He was someone who the people of Gastark could always rely on. And Riphal was proud of that. Proud to have such a strong and admirable father. Proud to be his son.

His father always made him listen to that long and depressing story. Afterwards, he spoke. “And now, I’ll tell you the most important thing of all,” he said. “If… if in your lifetime… if you are ever in a situation where you have to use that crazed sword…”

“I want you to run,” his father said. “Run as fast as you can. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Protecting the world? Resurrecting it? To hell with it. It’s okay if you only save those who are important to you: your wife, children, and friends. There is no reason for you to be sacrificed for the sake of a world that has nothing to do with you.”

So his strong and prideful father had said, his voice shaking with fear.

“You mustn’t, under any circumstance, use the mad sword that lies in the Sacred Hollow. You mustn’t even touch it. If you were to use it… everything would go to ruin. You would lose everything. So you mustn’t…”

Riphal had nodded earnestly. “I understand. That’s why you named me Riphal… right? Because he couldn’t use the sword, no matter what—he wasn’t chosen by it.”

“That’s right.”

“I won’t touch it,” Riphal had promised. “I’m too scared.”

“And that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“That’s right. The only thing I’d ever be ashamed of is if I broke my promise to you, Dad.”

“You’re a good kid.”

“Eheheh.”

“Alright, then. It’s bedtime.”

“Uh-huh. Night, Dad.”

“Night, Riphal.”

That was always how those nights had ended.

Then the Stohlian army invaded, and they decapitated his father the day before Riphal’s twelfth birthday.

His father died.

His mother died, too.

Even after Riphal was taken hostage, he never broke that promise that he’d made to his father.

He was kind to women. Treasured his friends. Never held grudges. Did what he felt was right.

And he never touched that crazed sword.

---

With his father dead, Riphal became Gastark’s representative at just twelve years old. The Edea family had taken that role since ancient times, so that much had already been decided. It didn’t matter if he was still just a child.

Now his people were pressuring him to use that sword to seek revenge on Stohl.

They wanted him to go to the Sacred Hollow and take that heinous sword that surely hid strange powers within and use it to seek revenge on the haughty Stohlians.

Even so, Riphal honored the promise he made with his father. He didn’t touch the sword. Rather, he never saw any reason to.

Revenge was meaningless. No matter what kind of history book he read, they all told him that war was absolutely useless. Even the strongest countries would one day fall to the greater greed of another.

Nothing in this world was eternal, so that meant that fighting back was useless, didn’t it?

Wasn’t the best answer always the one where they could laugh, have lots of kids, and be so happy that they all looked like idiots together?

That was what his dad always told him—to not hold grudges and to take the path that he believed to be correct.

But that wasn’t the path that the people of Gastark were on now, was it?

“……”

Right. It had been three years since he talked to everyone.

Since then, they’d lived as slaves.

They managed to meet Stohl’s extreme expectations, and even smiled as they lived their daily lives. And so Riphal, Riz, and Lir lived peacefully as hostages so as to never get on their captors’ bad side.

“……”

But that was only up until today.

The world wasn’t as sweet as he had once believed it to be.

The world that his father had wished for was sour to the point that it was sad.

The gears grinded against each other as they began to move. He could hear them. Inside his head, he heard them.

Was it because he was chosen?

Was it because he was a child of the Edea family, chosen by the Priests from the other side of reality?

He didn’t know. Regardless, he heard it.

It was the song of destruction. The sound of the world creaking towards nothingness.

And so.

“……”

He turned to Lir.

“…So?”

Lir returned his gaze. His eyes were sharp and resolute. “It’s exactly like what we thought. The king of Imperial Stohl is not human,” he said.

He was  n o t  h u m a n.

It took a moment for Riphal to digest his words. “Is he a Goddess?”

“Most likely. What I saw was… those hideous Goddesses were eating away at children.”

Riphal grimaced. “I’m glad they didn’t eat you.”

“Right. I’m glad, too. I had erased my presence with the power of a Rule Fragment, but… even so, they probably realized that I was there.”

Riz’s expression suddenly harshened. He moved between Riphal and Lir and stood, as if to protect Riphal. “So you’re saying that you made it back alive even though they realized that you were there? I think that’s a little suspicious… How can we be sure that you aren’t possessed by those monsters?”

“No, I don’t think that they care about us,” Riphal said. “We’re only humans, after all. Foolish humans. We’re the staple crops in their fields, so to speak. We mean nothing to them as people.” He laughed. “They don’t think that we have the power to kill them.”

Riphal looked past Lir and towards the entrance to the library. Somewhere beyond that door lied the imperial castle.

It looked like he’d be breaking the promise that he had made to his father after all.

‘You mustn’t touch that mad sword no matter what.’

That was the promise that he’d made, but it looked like he wasn’t going to keep it.

He stared past the door and towards the castle where that monstrous power was rotting this country.

“…Shit… it looks like I was born into the worst generation of them all, Dad,” he whispered. Then he looked back to Lir and Riz. “I will use that sword. I will use Glowvelle.” 

Lir and Riz met his eyes with equally serious faces.

“It’s not for revenge, of course,” Riphal elaborated. “My dad taught me that revenge is meaningless. But it’s a whole different story if there are Goddesses involved. They’d eat this world up until there are no crumbs left. A Hero appeared, but he ended up going mad from the Demon’s whisperings. It’s just the worst. Everything’s coming together in the worst way possible. This can be stopped, though. The gears turning towards that messed up ending can be destroyed… It’s a real pain in the ass, but it looks like we’re the only ones who can do it.”

A tired smile rose to his lips as he looked at his childhood friends. “What a hassle, right? It’s possible that we’ll never be able to smile for real ever again. It’s possible that we won’t ever be able to grab a girl’s ass or drink ‘til sunrise ever again. Even so… even so, will you follow me until the very end?”

Riz was first to speak. “Don’t wanna.”

Next was Lir. “Me neither.”

Riphal laughed, then threw his own silly remark in. “You’re lyiiing!”

They both laughed with him.

Then Riz spoke. “But no matter what we say now, we’re already a part of this whether we like it or not. You’re always like that, Riphal - always bringing us along for a ride whether we wanna be there or not.”

“…Like when you wanted to go peeking in the women’s bathhouse and I said I didn’t want to but you took me along anyway,” Lir said. “And in the end, they noticed and got mad at all of us.”

“Right?”

Riphal smiled as he watched them joke around. “What’re you talking about? Weren’t you two just as excited as me back then?”

“Whaaat? I’m not so perverted that I’d sneak a look into a woman’s bath,” Riz said.

“Me neither, me neither,” Lir added.

Riphal thought back to that day.

Riz and Lir had climbed up the fence and were standing on Riphal’s shoulders to look down inside.

“Wow, what a view,” Riz had said. “Isn’t it, Lir?”

“Yeah, for sure. Come up and see, Riphal.”

“Haah? I can’t see up there without help. I can’t climb the fence myself. We agreed that I’d help you guys up and then you’d pull me up to see afterwards, right?”

“Oh, did we?”

“I don’t remember anything like that.”

“Assholes!”

“Ah, I feel so bad for you. Poor Riphal. You can’t see anything from down there.”

“Right. And isn’t that girl just beautiful?” Lir asked.

Riz looked around. “Huh? Which one? Which one!?”

“C’mon guys, quit it! Let me up too—”

Just then, some adults came out of the bath and saw them.

That was how Riphal remembered it. Those two perverts never even let him get a peek.

“…Alright,” Riphal started. “I’ll change the way I say it, then. Follow me, guys.”

“Are we looking into the Goddesses’ bath this time?” Riz asked.

Lir grimaced. “Ew, gross. I don’t want to see those monsters bathe. But, well… there’s nothing we can do about it. We’re always together. I’ll go with you.”

“Stupid Riphal can’t do anything without me, so I’ll help out too.”

Riphal smiled. It was a happy smile, but a sad one nonetheless. He thought about what had to be done from here on out. Thought about how much of a pain this whole thing was going to be. Thought about how he’d probably never be able to smile from the bottom of his heart again.

Because from now on, they’d take that sword.

They would give another life to the Sword of Resurrection, Glowvelle.

It’d be easy.

All they had to do was offer up ten people with their same pink hair that Riphal, Riz, and Lir had as sacrifice.

They would pour their still-living blood into the sword. Pour life into it.

They would kill their own and pour their souls and lives into it.

If they did that, they would resurrect it.

The sword would take the madness of their souls and amplify it. It would take the shine of their souls and amplify it.

Only then would it bear light strong enough to kill the Goddesses, the Hero, and the Demons.

“…A number of our elders have already said that they would offer themselves up for this,” Lir said. His job had been to survey Stohl in secret for the past few months. After he confirmed that the king wasn’t human, he then returned to their birthplace, Gastark, and searched for people who would offer themselves up as sacrifices to the sword. “They felt that they should die to give more power to those of us who are young… that’s what they said, anyway.”

“…My grandmother offered to participate,” Riz said.

Riphal looked to Riz. To the calm and collected expression on his face. His parents had both been killed by the Stohlian army. If his grandmother died too, he would be left in this world without a single relative.

“……”

Riphal watched him, but he was deep in thought, and he didn’t say anything for some time. “I see,” he finally said. “So the path forward is already laid out for us. All we have to do now is walk it.”

It was a thorny path. One evil enough to make him nauseous. 

They would move forward by killing their own people.

They would cut familiar heads off and drain their blood into that sword.

They were fathers, mothers, and grandparents. People held dear.

They would kill them and walk forward past their bodies.

It was something that they shouldn’t be able to handle. Something they shouldn’t be able to do.

But they’d do it.

It was stupid. Insane. Evil. They’d want to scream and cry for sure. There was no way that they would ever be able to smile from the bottom of their hearts again.

If it was something that they could run from, he’d already be sprinting.

He’d scream and cry and run and even after it was over, he’d still be running. That was what he wanted to do.

But he couldn’t.

Because the Goddesses had already appeared. They were already ruining everything.

There was no place to run in this world. Even if they tried, they would just run into the open mouths of the Goddesses who devoured people, the world, everything that existed as it was.

So.

So…

“…Let’s do this.”

His friends nodded.

He would move forward with hands red from the blood of his people.

One step and he couldn’t turn back. He couldn’t let their sacrifices go to waste. He had to finish once he started.

He smiled despite the pain burning in his chest, making him want to cry. He smiled and spoke.

“From this day forward, I am king of the Gastark Empire. As king, I will kill every Goddess in every country across the continent. Give me your hands.”

Dark as it was, Riz smiled even though it looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Then from now on, call me your subordinate, Your Majesty.”

“…Your Majesty, huh,” Lir said. “Kinda gross, but I’ll follow suit.”

Riphal looked at his foul-mouthed friends. “Then let’s go. We’ll leave this country and return to Gastark. People will probably follow our every move, but no matter what, we can’t come back to this country. From this point forward, our Gastark Empire…”

Riphal stopped for a moment to take a deep breath, then continued.

“From this point forward, we will wage war against the rest of the world.”

---

That was the beginning of everything, the first act of the worst-case scenario. 

It was the start of Gastark’s war to make their worst-case scenario better, even if only a little.

“Oh, but Your Highness, I apologize in advance, but I have the slightest of corrections to make.” 

Riphal wrinkled his nose. “Quit talking like that. It’s really annoying.”

Riz smiled meanly. “Is it not acceptable for me to correct just one small and insignificant thing, Your Highness?” His words were polite, but his tone was incredibly rude.

That guy… “What?” Riphal asked. “What do you want to correct?”

“It’s about when we were peeking into the women’s baths. You said that we wouldn’t return the favor after you lifted us up to see them, right?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“But weren’t you just using us?”

Riphal tilted his head to the side, confused. “Aah? The hell are you talking about?”

“…They weren’t there, after all,” Lir said.

“What wasn’t there?”

“What we were looking for. Those baths were full of old women with saggy boobs.”

Riphal laughed. “I knew.”

Riz was shocked. “You knew? But how? You couldn’t see them.”

Riphal shook his head. “That’s not it. What I knew was that you were good guys.”

That was why he felt that he was blessed.

He had these amazing friends who would walk with him, side by side, along this path.

All of Gastark was filled with people like them. Not a single person there was bad.

So he couldn’t fail.

There would be sacrifices. People would die. So he couldn’t fail.

He had to move forward without making any mistakes, without regretting anything. He had to walk the path that he most believed in.

He steeled his resolve.

He needed an iron will. One that wouldn’t waver even if his friends and family died.

He steeled his resolve.

“…Let’s go.”

And he took a step forward.

His friends nodded and followed.

It was the beginning of a gruesome battle. The beginning of their despair-ridden fight.

And what he needed.

What he needed was just enough power to be able to bear it all.

That was his wish.

---

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