Their Reasons

For several days now, ever since Bernart had fallen into a coma to confront the Evil God, Ilya had been watching over him as he slept on a bed in the church, under the pretext of standing in for the principal.

Needless to say, the one most shaken by Bernart's current state was Sophia.

The change in her demeanor stemmed from the night the Evil God had surfaced and she'd crossed paths with Bernart. The Evil God had revealed his true identity to her and silenced her by holding the school's students and Bernart himself hostage.

That was probably his way of setting things up so I would notice something was off, Ilya thought, though the answer lay only with the sleeping man.

"… Onee-sama… will the Father return to the way he was?"

It's going to be all right. Ilya couldn't offer her even that flimsy reassurance.

She knew that saying so would only make Sophia feel like she had to put on a brave face in return.

"The Father is still fighting the Evil God right now… Sophia, keep talking to him, all right?"

"Yes…"

The bell rang, its sound echoing through the chapel to announce that noon was approaching.

Ilya rose from her seat to head back to the branch.

"Well, I'll be off."

"Yes. Please take care."

Sophia stood up with her and bowed.

Ilya put her hand on the chapel door and was about to push it open when —

"U-um…!"

Sophia's voice made her stop reflexively.

When she turned around, Sophia looked away as if hesitating, then squared her shoulders and lifted her face with resolve.

"Onee-sama, would you… talk to the Father too?"

"… Eh?"

"Please!"

"S-sure. All right."

Sophia had bowed so desperately, and besides, there was no real reason to refuse.

For Ilya it was nothing more than that, but having received her assent, Sophia smiled happily, bowed once more, and ran off to the classroom.

Having agreed, Ilya could hardly do nothing.

I'll try saying something to him starting tomorrow.

That resolve of Ilya's was never put into action.

"Good morning, Miko-sama."

Because Bernart was sitting up in bed.

His expression was calm, his voice Bernart's own. What's more, it was noon — the hour when the Evil God's power waned to its weakest.

Above all, the occupation displayed by [God's Eyes] no longer read one possessed by the Evil God.

In its place stood the title: Apostle of the World Tree.

"… Good morning. Um…"

"You may call me whatever you like."

To Ilya, who was hesitating over what to call him, the Apostle smiled gently.

His words were spoken as though he were taking it for granted that Ilya already knew his true identity.

"… Then, Apostle-sama."

"There is no need for '-sama,' Miko-sama."

So I was right, though at the same time she wanted to retort, but you keep saying it to me.

After the brief exchange just now, Ilya had picked up on the same air she'd felt in her conversations with the great spirits, and not wanting things to get tangled, she decided to let it slide without comment.

More importantly, there was something she had to confirm first.

"Inside you, is Bernart-san's consciousness still there?"

The Apostle wore a slightly troubled expression for a moment, then returned to his smile.

"You could say it is, and you could say it isn't."

So he can afford to play word games.

Perhaps sensing Ilya's irritation, the Apostle pressed on before she could speak.

"I am the common human Bernart, the oldest of the Evil Gods, and one who embodies the will of the world tree. The individual consciousness is not given priority, so in that sense, you could say that I, as the common human Bernart, am no longer present."

Are these odd turns of phrase a quirk of those in the great-spirit class?

The Apostle paused, as if considering something.

"As you have likely guessed… it seems that I, mingled as I am of human, monster, and spirit, have come to function as a terminal of the world tree."

"You mean this incident was something even the world tree didn't anticipate?"

"Yes."

He affirmed it without a hint of hesitation, and the immediacy of his answer was essentially a declaration that he could draw on the world tree's information directly.

That meant the importance of her next question only grew, and Ilya felt her heart sink.

Even so, she couldn't ignore it. She steeled herself and opened her mouth.

"Are you my enemy?"

Even the Apostle, it seemed, had not anticipated this question.

For an instant his face went blank, then he quickly returned to his smile.

"Were I to answer, that doesn't necessarily mean it would be the truth, does it?"

"That's fine. There are any number of ways to forcibly confirm someone's intent."

Connected to the world tree though he was, even she couldn't tell how much he knew about Ilya herself.

Still, if he had the Evil God's memories, he should know Ilya's power, and from there he had to be aware of the gap in ability between them. And yet, at her words, which could be taken as a declaration of war, the Apostle's smile only deepened.

"Great spirits and Evil Gods, being pure factors, are strongly influenced by the world tree."

The words he spoke were not an answer.

But sensing they weren't unrelated, Ilya decided to hear him out.

"Perhaps because of their natures, however, great spirits accept that will as it is, while Evil Gods seem to act on it in twisted ways."

"… So this incident was the result of the world tree's will being warped?"

"It isn't only the manipulation of monsters this time. The ice dragon affair was the same. That said, you destroyed about ninety percent of him, didn't you? He was more strongly bound to the world tree's will, so he wouldn't actually have harmed Sophia-san, you see?"

So the manipulation of the monsters and of the ice dragon had been the will of the world tree.

If that were all, then he was unmistakably an enemy, but she couldn't make sense of the fact that he hadn't laid a hand on Sophia.

If Sophia had been hurt, Ilya was confident she would have annihilated him and Bernart along with him.

That alone would have been enough to fulfill an Evil God's wish, and the fact that he hadn't done so was proof that the Evil God really had been following the will of the world tree.

He'd sent monsters and an ice dragon as threats against her, with no clear intent of hostility.

(Isn't that a contradiction?)

Reading Ilya's thoughts, the Apostle gave a troubled, wry smile.

"Distinguishing friend from foe is difficult, but… we had no intention of doing you harm… No, our judgment was that this much would not amount to doing you harm."

What he meant by "this much" were the threats he had just listed. He'd judged that those would not constitute harm to Ilya, and so he'd sent them to Lunéville.

Hearing it laid out so plainly, Ilya lost any inclination to be angry.

Honestly, what she really wanted him to say was that he had no intention of harming the people around her rather than herself, but she decided to set that aside for now.

One question had only deepened from this exchange.

"What is your goal?"

In response, the Apostle fell silent.

But it wasn't the dumbfounded silence of before, nor was it the silence of being lost for words.

Things he could share and things he wanted to keep hidden.

The closest description would be that he was choosing his words after weighing them against each other. Imagining herself in his place, Ilya thought as much.

Inside a few minutes, the Apostle opened his mouth.

"What do you think of the world as it is now?"

"The world, you say…?"

It was such an out-of-nowhere question that no answer could possibly come to her on the spot.

But the Apostle, it seemed, had only wanted to give her a starting point, and he continued without waiting for an answer.

"A world where people live freely… it is a disordered society. People all too easily drown in their desires and casually hurt others. Don't you think that's a dangerous state?"

"… Isn't that taking it to an extreme?"

"Is it? For example: the common human Bernart."

The Apostle went on.

"He loved all people, and tried to spread that spirit of universal love. Even from our perspective, that spirit seemed admirable."

But, he continued, fixing his gaze on Ilya.

"His heart was stolen by you."

Eh?

Leaving the uncomprehending Ilya behind, he went on.

"The mind the Evil God had struggled to breach until then began to unravel from that point. Upon learning of the man at your side. Upon recalling the commandments that bound him. Upon hearing the words of men who courted you… His heart was dyed with jealousy and remorse… However lofty one's spirit may be, there is no guarantee it will remain unchanged."

The Apostle's words went on, giving Ilya no opening to cut in.

"On top of that, every single person lives selfishly according to their own will, and they clash. Even, for example, a man and woman who once exchanged passionate vows in the past."

"How do you even know about that…"

"A school is well-suited to gathering information."

The Apostle said this with a smile.

It seemed she'd rubbed salt into an ally's wound and handed salt to the enemy in the same stroke.

While Ilya hung her head, the Apostle let the silence linger for emphasis before speaking again.

"… While the world is still at peace, don't you think we need a presence to protect the people and bring them together?"

It sounded almost as though he were trying to coax her into agreement.

She didn't know why he'd phrased it as though talking her round, nor what he was hiding. But Ilya had something she wanted to say to the Apostle.

"What's wrong with that? Even if it is selfish."

The answer must have been unexpected, because the Apostle's reaction was sluggish.

Even leaving Ilya's own thoughts aside, his information was outdated and incomplete.

"About that man and woman you brought up just now. Do you know why those girls were having a contest?"

"Was it not because the man, having broken his vow, came to find the woman bothersome?"

"It seems that's not the case."

That was merely the surface motive.

After the contest had been settled, Erica had come to Ilya to report and had shared the inside story.

"It seems that man was simply trying to keep the woman away from battle in order to protect her."

"That…"

"Embarrassing, isn't it? He had no confidence he could protect her, so he deliberately put on a cold attitude just to keep her away from the fighting."

How childish, how selfish.

"And as for the woman, she didn't want to forget that vow. She wanted to keep it, so she set out from the village without even waiting for him to return. Ignoring his will entirely. As a result, they ended up missing each other, but…"

Ilya gazed at the Apostle.

"All of it was done out of love for the other person."

Then she turned her attention to the personality inside him.

"The Father, too. He seemed to be suppressing his own heart by his own choice, but… wasn't that done out of consideration for me?"

After all, Bernart had known she didn't care for men.

The Apostle didn't argue, and Ilya took that as affirmation.

Now, then. About you.

Ilya didn't look away.

"You yourself. No one asked you to concern yourself with the world, did they? Telling people to fall in line is no different from selfishly telling everyone to kill their own wills for the sake of others, is it?"

See. We're all the same.

When she put it that way, a smile rose to her lips of its own accord.

"If everyone is acting for someone else's sake, what's wrong with being selfish?"

It's fine to act on one's own selfish will.

A life without one's own will is no better than livestock. No, since one would have given up the will one once had, it might be even worse than livestock.

Having seen such a small world before, Ilya could never accept that kind of world.

She had said everything she wanted to say.

All that was left was Ilya's own answer.

"I do think it's fine to have someone who pulls things together."

This time the Apostle's expression froze completely, as though he hadn't seen it coming at all.

She wasn't, after all, trying to reject everything he was saying.

"But only if they're someone who wants to do it, and only if they're recognized by those around them."

If a person with the will and ability could be acknowledged by everyone and then govern, she herself thought that would be fine.

Disqualifying herself in the very first condition was peculiarly her.

The bell rang out through the now-silent room.

It was time for class to start, but high-school students were generally told to study on their own, so there was no problem there.

Pulling her drifting thoughts back to the Apostle, Ilya remembered there was one more thing she needed to confirm.

"Apostle-san, will you continue to act as Bernart-san from now on?"

"Eh? Ah, yes. It's not as if I've ceased to be Bernart."

"Then I leave it to you. To the students here, before you are an Apostle who upholds the world tree, you are the principal who supports the school."

Looking through [God's Eyes], she saw no fatigue or damage.

"Please show them you're well as soon as possible, and set their minds at ease."

She bowed with the same smile she had once given Bernart and turned to leave the room.

Then his voice called to her, and she stopped.

"Are you not suppressing yourself?"

"As if. I'm doing exactly what I want to do."

As she said it, she turned around to face his question.

"I'm not living for the sake of my work. I'm working for the sake of living."

 

*

 

The guild had all manner of rules and regulations, including prohibitions on accepting commissions.

One is registering a commission while impersonating someone else.

By tacit agreement, party-member registrations can be filed even when the member in question isn't present.

But that tacit agreement, established to keep commission registration running smoothly, can be abused. Representative examples include cases where someone whose acceptance is restricted by a prior offense impersonates another to deceive the association, and proxy-registration used to fraudulently inflate someone's rank.

The rule exists in order to mete out strict punishment when such malicious falsified registrations are uncovered.

The other prohibition is the completion of a commission by someone unregistered to it.

If the violator clearly didn't mean to (such as defeating a subjugation target by chance encounter), they get off with a stern warning.

But if it's clearly judged to be intentional, the violator becomes subject to fines or arrest.

And if even those are refused, or if the same violation is repeated, the violator is deemed a target for purge by the association.

If the purge target belongs to the mercenary guild, the purge is carried out by force.

In order to preserve the guild's authority and trust, enforcement is unflinching and thorough, and it's not uncommon for purge targets to lose their lives.

If the target belongs to the commerce, industry, or agriculture guild, they are frozen out in their respective fashions.

Because penalties also extend to anyone who lends them a hand, they end up utterly alone. It was a punishment known as the "gentle execution," and feared accordingly.

Though the severity of the penalties differed entirely, both prohibitions were rules necessary to keep the guild functioning.

A fair appraisal of one's ability was a safeguard against unnecessary damage, naturally for the side taking commissions but also for the side issuing them. Having the guild manage commission payments also prevented one-sided negotiations.

Denying the guild would be exactly what the Apostle had called "disorder in the name of freedom."

And in that case, the first to be sacrificed would be those at the bottom.

— Pay us more.

— I don't see the point of putting restrictions on accepting commissions.

Most of those who disliked control were already people who held power, whether in the form of authority or martial might.

Using the masses to keep the strong in check, in order to protect the weak.

Put that way it sounded unpleasant, but a guild that valued individuality and freedom couldn't very well tilt entirely toward the powerful the way a state would, so Ilya thought that was just how it had to be.

The world was composed of all sorts of rules, and rules existed to be observed.

That said, there were exceptions like Ilya, who'd been handed her abilities through cheats.

 

*

 

The construction of the branch dining hall's second annex, the arena, the fleshing out of the medical and examination facilities at the church.

The town's population and commissions had grown, but Ilya's own work hadn't changed all that much, and since the Apostle incident, comparatively peaceful and laid-back days had continued.

But of course, such days couldn't conveniently go on forever.

"Hey, teach me a weapon that suits me too."

Selge spoke in a voice low enough that only Ilya could hear.

Ever since that previous incident, he'd mainly been working the arena while also taking commissions.

From Ilya's perspective, things looked like they were going well with Erica too, but the way he gritted his teeth as he bowed his head had none of the air of a satisfied riajuu.

But why?

In response to her questioning gaze, Selge muttered with an even more pained expression.

"At this rate, I'm going to end up being protected by Erica…!"

That's rough.

Thanks to her growth last time around, Erica had become stronger than your average frontliner, and she'd also gained the versatility to provide support with recovery and status-ailment potions.

For Selge, a purebred frontliner, losing in pure combat strength would mean losing his place entirely.

That said, when Erica fell back to support, someone had to stand at the front, so in the end it was probably a matter of pride.

Throw that sort of thing away, was what Ilya wanted to say, but if he sulked here it would all be for nothing.

"O-of course that's not the only reason!?"

Mistaking Ilya's pensive look for exasperation, Selge hurriedly added that.

"… Do you know a guy called the Demon-Sword Tristan?"

"Yes. I'm aware of him."

Reading the air, she didn't say so out loud, but Ilya had known of him even before Erica and the others had brought up his name.

The sword Tristan wielded was a genuine demon-sword whose hardness and sharpness grew the more human blood it had drunk.

When it came to human blood, it wasn't the volume but the number of individuals that mattered, and he'd openly stated that he competed in arenas because "there I can legally injure people."

It was called a demon-sword precisely because of the way it glowed red each time it drank blood. The people of this world didn't actually recognize the definition of arms styled "demon"… that is, demon-tools.

While divine tools ignored or rewrote the very workings of the world such as causality and physical law, demon-tools affected the tool itself or those who touched it. Their effects were limited, but because, unlike divine tools, they could be used by anyone, demon-tools were often more of a threat to people than divine tools were.

It was something of a "fated coincidence" that the original owners of demon-tools had often been demons, so it was only natural that they posed a threat, if you really thought about it.

"It's just a rumor for now, but… apparently he's coming here."

"I see…"

Selge's expression was hard.

But it didn't look to Ilya like the stiffness of someone avoiding what they feared. It looked more like the tension of firm resolve.

Remembering that Ilya was watching, Selge scratched his head a little bashfully and let his expression soften.

"That said, I'm not running… I don't want Erica chewing me out, after all."

"I see."

Bon appétit.

She fought down the urge to say it, so as not to spoil the serious mood.

"That's why I have to get stronger… In order to beat that guy."

Ilya's true feelings were more along the lines of, Do you really have to fixate on this that much?

On the other hand, she also thought that if he didn't overcome this here, Selge couldn't truly be said to have recovered.

Considering Erica too, Ilya decided to lend him a hand.

That said, there was one problem.

Selge had aptitude for the [Swordsmanship] skill, and unlike with Erica, he had already chosen the weapon that suited him.

Since they wouldn't be raising a different aptitude skill from scratch, picking out a new weapon wouldn't accomplish much.

Of course, if she imposed efficiency-focused training on him like she had with Erica, she could expect decent growth.

But that alone would not be enough to beat Tristan.

The demon-sword that had drunk the blood of so many would easily cut through any ordinary sword or armor. The handicap of not being able to recklessly receive his blade was enormous in close combat.

Looking at Selge's [Swordsmanship] skill bonuses, the ratio of slash-assist to swing-assist was roughly 7:2. Even if she had him redirect to parry-assist from now on, he probably wouldn't be able to fully deflect the impact.

(If that's the case, what about raising daggers from now and going all-in on parry…?)

Attack with the sword, defense via dagger parry.

There was the issue of whether he'd have time, but it was probably the most promising option.

"… It's no good, huh?"

The unfavorable attitude he'd taken toward Ilya during the previous contest was probably still weighing on him.

Mistaking Ilya's deliberation for hesitation over whether to accept, Selge peered at her anxiously.

(There's no point in worrying alone, I suppose.)

Ilya cut the matter short and decided to be honest.

"It's not so much that it's impossible. From what I see, the weapon best suited to Selge-san really is the sword."

"…"

Selge made a complicated face, half delighted, half disheartened.

The reason the disappointment was only half was that, having hit his wall earlier, he'd tried all sorts of weapons and was aware that the one that suited him was the sword.

So while asking Ilya for advice, he'd also been prepared for it to lead nowhere.

"Then I really do have to get stronger on my own…"

"Basically, yes."

"Basically…?"

Life returned to his fading eyes at Ilya's deliberately suggestive phrasing.

"Is there something else?"

"Not a recommended weapon, exactly, but how about using a shield or dagger to deflect your opponent's sword?"

"… Shield or dagger, huh…"

He clearly didn't like the idea.

He'd been the one asking for a recommended weapon, so she didn't understand why he was hesitating.

If his issue was that getting purely stronger was the only proper way and that working out a counter-strategy was beneath him, she wanted to press him on what he actually wanted to do.

"Ilya."

"Ah, sorry. Next in line, please. Apologies for the wait."

At Clarice's call, Ilya finally noticed that about three guild members had ended up waiting for registration.

It was practically an extension of small talk; they could have just stepped up normally.

While Ilya thought that, she was also pleased that, despite the growing population, the number of polite folk who read the air and observed the order had increased.

That itself was proof that public order was good, but the downside was that when she caused inconvenience like this, the bite of her conscience hit harder than before.

Get to work.

She was growing nostalgic for the days when she'd been thinking that.

Before resuming registration duties, Ilya decided it would be cruel to keep him just waiting, and shared one more option.

"If you'd rather not carry a shield or dagger, there's also the option of forging a new sword."

"A new…?"

"For either of those, I think I can lend my assistance."

Having said only that much, Ilya began her reception work.

It went without saying that as soon as the line of commission registrations dried up, Selge came back asking about the details of the new sword.

The fact that he seemed pressed for time was perhaps because he'd pinned his hopes on that method.

"So, what's this about a new sword? You know about that guy's demon-sword, right?"

"Yes. And so I plan to neutralize its ability."

"… … … … Eh?"

Selge couldn't grasp the meaning of her words and stood there dumbfounded.

"… Are you saying you'd make a demon-sword like his?"

"As if."

A demon-sword, like a divine tool, was an accidental product born of several factors aligning.

You couldn't deliberately make one with the same ability, and if you tried clumsily, you might end up with strange drawbacks like "cuts well, but the bearer suffers constant stomach pain." That was the nature of demon-tools, the monsters of weaponry.

Monsters contained a great deal of shadow source in their bodies, and during the day, when the area was saturated with light source that erased shadow source, their abilities were greatly weakened.

In other words, a weapon containing light source could nullify the effects of a demon-tool.

A sword containing light source.

"We'll forge a holy sword."

Hearing Ilya say we'll just forge a holy sword, Selge's first reaction was a question full of suspicion:

"… If something like that exists, why hasn't anyone made one before?"

It would be more accurate to say it hadn't been made because it couldn't be made. To begin with, no one was even aware of the definitions of monsters and demon-tools, so they couldn't reach the concept of a holy sword in the first place.

That said, explaining all of that would be a hassle. So Ilya decided to point out the most obvious obstacle.

"If you tried to forge one normally, you'd need a Light Dragon's spine crystal, an Al-Mi'raj's horn, or an Amatsutaurus' hoof as the material. Multiple of those, taken from different individuals."

The Al-Mi'raj was a horned rabbit with a quite ferocious temperament, but by classification and by nature, it wasn't a monster.

It had been blessed with that distinct nature directly by one of the beast-god pillars, Bwevegeawel, who had pitied frail rabbits. To those who worshipped Bwevegeawel as their faith-god, they were treated as sacred beasts. As a result, hunting an Al-Mi'raj would turn every member of his faith into your enemy.

Amatsutaurus too were treated as gods' proxies in the regions where they lived, so the issue was essentially the same as with the Al-Mi'raj.

And if you had the strength to go toe-to-toe with a Light Dragon, no human, demon-sword or not, would be a threat.

So if you tried to forge one normally, you'd run into the dilemma that the target itself, a counter to the demon-sword, would be harder to achieve than what you were trying to counter.

Needless to say, when Selge heard the listed materials, he was rendered speechless.

But that was only with the caveat of "normally."

"That said, with alchemy, it's a different story."

"Alchemy?"

"Yes. If you could prepare manakapur steel, the bones of a non-monster creature, and the lightworm grass that grows in the Mildewla Cavern, we can produce materials of equivalent quality."

Each of those was either expensive or hard to obtain, but compared to what had been listed before, they were considerably more realistic materials.

That contrast had probably given him a push, too. Where he'd normally have given up, Selge agonized over it before finally pressing her:

"… If I get them, you really can make a holy sword?"

She was impressed he wanted to win so badly, but she couldn't lie. Ilya shook her head and denied his words.

"No. To make it into a holy sword, you'd need orichalcum, the mental-resonant metal, or, at a considerable drop in quality, hyle silver."

Orichalcum, occasionally generated within the world tree, had the highest affinity with elements like the magic source and light source out of all metals existing in the world.

Following it came silver, copper, then gold, in descending order of affinity, but silver had high anti-demon properties due to symbolic action, so the compromise option was silver. However, silver was too soft to be used as a sword unless it was made into an alloy, and if you sought blade strength, its purity would drop.

"As long as you provide the materials, we'll arrange the alchemist and blacksmith on our end."

"On your end… I get the alchemist, but if I'm bringing the materials, picking the blacksmith ourselves shouldn't matter either way, would it?"

Being used as a pretext for a tie-in.

Out of that kind of suspicion, Selge grumbled discontentedly.

"With all due respect, refining the light-source ore that's generated requires a dedicated furnace, so only those with specialized knowledge and skill can produce it."

"… Spe-specialized? There's a huge furnace in Monoville's outskirts, isn't there? Won't that one work?"

To the rushed Selge, Ilya nodded composedly.

"That furnace uses wind keseki to produce high heat, mainly for two-stage refining. But at such high temperatures, the light source dissipates entirely. The furnaces best suited for refining while preserving light source are the older types that used to be commonly used, but the older furnaces had to be destroyed every single time a generation cycle was run, so compared to the current ones that allow continuous high-quality refining, their production efficiency was atrocious, and these days most people —"

"O-okay! I get it! I'll leave it to you!"

"As you wish."

Worn out by Ilya's nonstop lecture, Selge raised the white flag.

Unfairly stripping someone of their freedom to choose was the go-to tactic of swindlers and profit-first types.

But she didn't want to be lumped in with that sort.

(I haven't sunk that low, you know.)

If anything, her method was to present the options and then narrow them down by appealing to benefits and advantages. Whether that was malicious depended on the time and place.

In any case, Ilya had given various reasons, but in truth, she could perform alchemy all the way through the refining stage that stripped impurities.

To go even further, she could produce the holy sword itself. That, however, was a matter of "if he doesn't pay an appropriate price, it won't do him any good."

Without picking up on Ilya's internal calculations, Selge had switched gears as if every second mattered, and was muttering his plans to himself.

"Manakapur ore is at Mono or Pinea… I'll save the bones for last…"

A man who, just a little while ago, had been moping around, now this proactive.

(Love's power is amazing.)

Mixing in a faint trace of envy, she let an exasperated thought escape inwardly.

"Ah, also… how much money do I need?"

"I'll consult with the alchemist and calculate it. Please come by again the day after tomorrow."

"What a pain…"

She understood the urge to leave at once, but Ilya couldn't act recklessly here, and she had no choice but to ask him to accept it.

With the conversation reaching a stopping point, Selge stood up abruptly.

"Money's necessary either way, right? I'm going to go register for tomorrow's match."

"Formation practice first!"

Selge whirled around in alarm to find Erica, leading their friends, standing there with a sulky expression.

"You didn't show up at the meeting time, so I came by the branch, only to hear you say you're heading to the arena."

"Gehh, is it that time already!?"

"You were having such a great chat with Ilya you forgot the time? Forgot me? What were you two talking about?"

"Th-that was, I was asking about good commissions for formation practice and…"

Teased even by his comrades, Selge stammered out excuses.

His motive aside, there was no need to hide the content, but having clumsily tried to cover up, the temperature of Erica's gaze plummeted.

(Just say the truth and stop worrying about looking uncool at this point.)

While Ilya was thinking that with a touch of exasperation, beside her, a common-human youth held out a commission slip to Clarice.

His outfit was lightly armored, his weapons a one-handed sword and a shield.

The garb of a common warrior, yet the air about him differed from that of the other guild members in the branch.

Looking through [God's Eyes], his sub-stats showed a high charm value, and the displayed title read Imperial Prince of the Empire.

So that high charm value was probably the result of "a high-born prince having received an education to stand above others." On the other hand, perhaps because he was accustomed to being looked at, he showed no sign of caring even when those with keen instincts directed their gaze at him.

If those gazes had carried malice it would have been a different story, but this was probably the dullness honed by training.

Why an Imperial Prince of the Empire was in faraway Rondéville, and why he had a guild registration card, was unclear.

But with no chaperone or escort, and given his outfit, it was easy to infer that he was hiding his identity.

A clandestine tour abroad. A hobby in combat or earning pocket money.

If he were a typical royal, the reasons would be relatively limited.

But to Ilya, his unique skill, and the bracelet peeking from his wrist, seemed to hint that this youth's circumstances were more complicated than that.

Not having the slightest inkling that he'd been seen through as a prince, the young man showed displeasure at Ilya for having watched him a touch too long.

"… What. Did you need something from me?"

"No. My apologies."

Clarice bowed alongside Ilya's apology and held the registration card and commission slip up against the glass panel to begin the registration's authentication.

Ilya didn't know what was irritating him, but even during the idle moments of the authentication, the young man kept fidgeting and touching the bracelet on his right wrist.

Even if told to hurry, that was the one thing she couldn't do anything about. In Clarice's hands, as she worked steadily through the procedure, the faint light began to change.

The result was red. The glass panel indicated registration was denied.

On the commission slip held up to it, the light was blinking on the commission-rank field.

It was only natural that a B-rank subjugation commission couldn't be authenticated for a D-rank guild member.

Following procedure, Clarice laid the commission slip and registration card on the counter and began to explain to the young man.

"I apologize, but the registration application has been denied."

"…"

"Are you aware of the rank-restriction rules for commission registration?"

"…"

His sullen attitude unchanged, the young man neither affirmed nor denied. He picked up his card and the slip and walked away from the counter.

Judging from how he hadn't been surprised by the denial, he must have known about the rank restrictions.

(And yet he brought it to be registered because he thought he could fudge it…?)

Without raising any complaint, the young man returned the commission slip to the board and left the branch without picking out a new one.

"… What was that just now, with him?"

There was no answer to Clarice's mutter, but the branch quickly returned to its usual scenery.

Afterwards, even when Ilya scoured every inch of the town, the youth was nowhere to be found, and she had to conclude it was extremely unlikely he was an enemy operative who had infiltrated Lunéville.

 

*

 

Two days later.

To Selge, who came by the branch as agreed, Ilya held out a single commission slip.

"What's this commission for…?"

"It's from the alchemist. If Selge-san provides the materials listed on the slip in those quantities, they'll do the generation free of charge and pay you the going rate for any excess."

"Seriously!?"

Selge nearly began dancing in place at the unexpected news, only to freeze in the next instant.

The lightworm grass growing wild in the Mildewla Cavern could be harvested in small numbers around the midway point, but if you wanted decent quantities, you had no choice but to push deeper.

And deeper in the cavern lived a dragon-type monster called the Nidheggur, whose encounter rate rose the further in you went.

For Selge, who up until now had been working solo, it meant taking on quite a bit of danger.

"… Ah, dammit! There was a Nidheggur subjugation commission too, wasn't there!? The one nobody managed to register for!?"

Apparently figuring it'd be more convenient to take it out with a large group, Selge glared at the bulletin board.

But there was no Nidheggur posting on it.

A hand patted Selge's shoulder as he stood puzzled, and a commission slip was waved in front of him. It belonged to Grace of [Scarlet Twin Blades], whose name had become widely known both within and beyond the guild after she'd participated in the ice-dragon subjugation.

"Sorry. We registered first."

In her hand, the commission slip clearly bore the Nidheggur designation and the names of her and her [Scarlet Twin Blades] members.

Grace had been planning to tease Selge for the moment he got angry over the credit being snatched away. But to her surprise, Selge rejoiced almost to the point of throwing his hands in the air.

"That's a huge help! Can I come along!?"

Caught off-guard, Grace recovered and shook her head with a wry smile.

"Best you don't. Our lot's a pain. Plus, if we drag you into the fight, it'll be even more of a pain."

"Yeah… that's true."

If Selge, who hadn't registered for the commission, got caught up in the battle, there was virtually no doubt he'd be detained and questioned for a possible violation.

The simplest way to avoid that would be to register for the commission, but in that case, there'd be no question of trouble over the reward and the guild contribution credit.

Even if he achieved his goal, that wasn't what Selge, as a full-fledged guild member, wanted.

"All right. Good luck."

"Thanks. You too."

Selge tore his eyes from Grace as she walked away and turned squarely back to Ilya.

"So, I'll go on my own."

"As you wish."

After the Nidheggur was subjugated, going in solo wouldn't be a problem.

Receiving his registration card, she began the registration.

The reason she had set up the alchemist's reward-paying commission was, in part, to provide financial support for building an old-style furnace. But putting that aside, Ilya's true motive was wanting him to head deep into the cavern.

The person Selge had just referred to as "the one who couldn't get registered" was the young man hiding the fact that he was an Imperial Prince of the Empire. She didn't understand why he had deliberately chosen the Nidheggur subjugation.

If it was simple caprice or curiosity, there'd be no problem, but she'd been feeling a vague unease that he was about to pull something.

In that respect, it was a stroke of luck that [Scarlet Twin Blades] had ended up going, and that Selge hadn't insisted on going solo no matter what.

(Coming back to find he'd died mid-mission? No thanks.)

Eventually the glass panel's light turned blue, signaling that the commission registration was complete.

Returning Selge's card and the slip, she explained the precautions for transporting the materials.

"… Please keep all the above in mind."

"Got it."

"I sincerely wish for your safe return and success."

After seeing Selge off as he left the branch, Ilya continued with her reception duties.

There were small incidents — Haku, who was usually quiet, crying out oddly; the returned Katie getting asked out on a date and causing a bit of an uproar — but otherwise nothing unusual: the usual days continued.

Though Ilya had confirmed that the imperial youth was no longer in Lunéville, there was no word of any incident or disturbance anywhere in Rondéville. Ilya came around to thinking that perhaps she'd been too caught up in the former vice manager's words, and that in the end, the youth's case had probably been "something like a troubled prince getting some fresh air."

Perhaps it was because Ilya had been thinking so casually, but the report came in soon after.

Five days after Selge had been seen off.

 

*

 

Selge had been seen off on the same day that Grace and the rest of [Scarlet Twin Blades] had departed Lunéville.

But because Selge had to travel around to gather everything besides the lightworm grass, [Scarlet Twin Blades] returned to Lunéville first.

When Grace came back to the branch, neither her appearance nor her stats showed any damage, and Ilya judged that the commission had been completed without incident. But for all that her body was unharmed, her face was twisted like a hannya's, freezing everyone in the hall with fear.

"Grace-san, did something happen?"

When Ilya asked the question of Grace, who had come straight up to her, Grace threw her arms around her despite the counter between them.

No, no, no.

While startled at the action in front of all those eyes, Ilya handled it calmly.

"… What are you doing?"

"Refilling."

The instant she said so, Grace buried her face against Ilya and inhaled deeply.

That must have satisfied her. When she pulled away, her expression was back to its usual self.

She had a certain peculiar constitution, and to suppress it, she sometimes took actions like this.

But normally, when she did, she would fall into a state of runaway, which couldn't be hidden from Ilya's eyes capable of seeing stats.

(It doesn't look like withdrawal symptoms, at any rate…)

What in the world was going on?

To the puzzled Ilya, Grace gave a sheepish, wry smile.

"Sorry, sorry. I just got so worked up. So, here's the report."

"Yes. Please go ahead."

"The Nidheggur was subjugated, but we didn't do it. Someone went and slew it without permission."

A ripple of murmurs spread among those who'd heard her, then the branch fell silent.

It seemed she was angry at having had her prey snatched.

Grasping the situation, Ilya signaled Ria with a glance, asking her to fetch Frank.

Meanwhile, perhaps because the memory was catching up with her as she spoke, Grace's expression grew steadily harsher.

"There was a guy in the middle of pulling his sword out. We tried to grab him, but he got away."

"… Any distinguishing features?"

"That's what I came to ask. Selge, who was around the exit, said it was the guy who couldn't get his registration approved that one time. Any idea who that might be?"

Ilya wanted to clutch her head.

She'd been preoccupied with the common-human-supremacy stuff, and on top of that, her read had been that a prince would avoid drawing attention. To have him cause this kind of problem was completely outside her expectations.

(What? Are all the princes and crown princes in this world idiots or something?)

She suppressed her irritation and focused on staying calm so as not to confuse the situation further.

"… Since he submitted a registration application, the record should remain."

Probably under a fake name, though.

Thinking that, she channeled mana through the glass panel and began traversing back through past records.

Summoned by Ria, Frank came down and approached Ilya's side, but recognizing she was mid-search, he turned to face Grace.

"Grace, sorry, but tell me again."

"Sure."

By the time her account ended, the search had finished, and Frank looked at Ilya with a grave expression.

She answered with a nod and read out the search result.

"The registration application that was denied the other day was on a card issued by the Balampax Alliance Headquarters… The name is Torsti. Affiliation: the mercenary guild, Balampax Headquarters."

The Sacred Reinhardt Empire's royals, with their long history and many branch houses, all had a given name, a middle name, and a family name, so a single-name listing was impossible. But even so, given how likely it was that the name itself was a fake, there was no point in dwelling on it.

Balampax was a kingdom neighboring the Empire, populated mainly by common humans, and its royal family was ruled by a branch house of the Empire's.

But the test basically didn't require identity verification, so that was probably irrelevant.

(Got someone to pull strings behind the scenes for him, maybe…?)

She considered it, then remembered the test didn't generally require identification and dismissed it as irrelevant.

"… Understood. Ilya, file a priority transmission commission."

"Yes. Just to the Rondéville Headquarters?"

"Aa. Grace, sorry, we may have to ask you again. We'll be counting on you then."

"Can't exactly leave him roaming free, can I? Suppose it can't be helped."

To Grace's profoundly bothered expression, Frank and Ilya could only give wry smiles.

After that, having finished her reception duties, Ilya headed for the office.

She knocked and entered just as Frank was compiling his report on the matter.

"What is it?"

"There's something I'd like to share regarding the suspect, Torsti-san."

"… Let me hear it."

Recalling the similar situation with the dragon-god child (Haku), Frank set down his pen and assumed a listening posture.

Unlike when Haku, still an egg, had gotten caught up in matters, this incident was the result of a prince's own will. Personally, Ilya hadn't intended to get involved.

But even ignoring the damage to the prince, the chance that relations between the guild and the country would deteriorate was high, so as an association branch staff member, she figured she'd at least uphold her professional courtesy.

"He's an Imperial Prince of the Sacred Reinhardt Empire."

"… Are you certain?"

"Yes. It was from a distance, but I remember seeing his face."

Although the basis she gave was a lie, the fact didn't change, and beyond all, it was an unavoidable lie to make others believe her without exposing her cheats.

(… Before, I could've gotten away with that without batting an eye, though.)

Perhaps because at one point she'd considered just pretending not to know him, guilt nagged at her.

"Ilya?"

"Ah, no."

When Ilya snapped back, she noticed Frank was looking at her not so much suspiciously as worriedly.

She switched gears and faced Frank again.

"I just wanted to share that much. I'll go put together the commission."

"Please do. But don't push yourself too hard, all right?"

"Yes. I'll be fine."

She showed him a smile to project robust well-being.

In front of Frank, who was prone to worry and presumably had enough stress already, she resolved not to brood any further.

Thinking that as she headed to the office, Ilya finished drafting the commission and registering it before the day was out, then sent off her account of the incident and the report on the suspect to headquarters.

 

*

 

A few days later.

It was confirmed that the common human Torsti had carried out further unregistered subjugations on top of the prior one, and the mercenary guild's general headquarters formally announced to the entire world that he was marked as a purge target.

The fact that the youth was an Imperial Prince of the Empire was not included in the notice.

Ilya's conclusion was that it was information manipulation on the part of the association or the mercenary-guild headquarters.

To say that they wouldn't make him a purge target because he was royalty would tank the guild's authority. To deliberately append royalty in the purge notice would invite the reading that this was implicitly a command to "show consideration," and risk earning distrust and resentment from the guild members.

If they protested to the Empire and were not heard, the effort would come to nothing; if they declared they'd purge him, it would be seen as nothing but a fight being picked.

Most courses of action could end up looking like vacillation, so it was easy to imagine they'd resorted to a hard line.

As she stood at the reception counter mulling these things over, Ilya glanced at the sword set beside her feet.

When viewed through [God's Eyes], the sword was listed as Holy Sword, but ordinarily what was displayed there would be like Sword: ○○, in the format Item: Name.

The absence of a name was proof that this sword, including anything similar to it, was one no one had ever forged before.

Made with light-source steel sent from the dwarf Demosthenes, who knew the all-but-only pre-modern refining furnace, and a special silver-containing alloy called Erhas.

Using those two, the single-edged sword had been forged by the dwarf blacksmith Matsöos using a folded-construction technique called makuri tanren. Both its materials and its method differed from any holy sword that had ever been made before.

Rather than checking only with [God's Eyes], she'd kept it on hand to actually test it, and since it properly exhibited the effect of a holy sword, she'd judged that it would be able to handle Tristan's demon-sword.

But on the other hand, the person to whom it should be handed was still in a life-or-death chase.

"Helloooo!"

The voice of Sophia, come to fetch the school lunch, was even more cheerful than usual as it rang through the hall.

Sophia had now completely settled in, and was heading to the kitchen while exchanging warm greetings with everyone in the hall.

"Onee-sama, hello!"

"Hello. Take care."

"Yes!"

With none of the earlier strain that came from being too determined, Sophia, now able to behave more naturally, was beloved by the townsfolk as the onee-san of the church in name and in fact.

The Apostle, too, was eerily good at acting as Bernart, so Sophia hadn't even noticed his change.

"Oh, right! Yesterday Fei-chan sent me a letter!"

"From Fei-chan?"

"Yes! She wrote that she's doing well!"

Fei was the name of a beastkin girl who had attended the church's school, and whose intelligence had been spotted by a noble family that had taken her on as a trainee secretary.

Her work performance had become famous among the nobility, and it had become the spark that spread word throughout Rondéville of how high the school's educational standards were.

If her reputation became firmly established at this rate, it would become possible to place graduates of the school in jobs.

While thinking that calmly, the news that Fei was doing well was more than anything else a joyful piece of news for Ilya.

"I see. That's good."

"Yes!"

That she was in even brighter spirits than usual was apparently thanks to that letter. Ilya gave a wry smile, but seeing how Sophia was rejoicing, she couldn't really say anything about it. She was happy alongside her, after all.

It was just as Sophia entered the kitchen that the branch door was flung open.

"Ilya-chan, come with me! And — did you see Sophia-chan around!?"

"Sophia is right here. What happened?"

"Wh-what is it?"

Spotting Sophia, who had hurried back out from the kitchen, the man who'd burst into the branch pointed in the direction of the church.

"There are critically injured patients! We carried them to the church!"

"U-understood!"

With Sophia's healing magic, anything short of truly severe wounds could be cured.

But since Sophia hadn't been at the church when they'd brought in the wounded, he'd come to fetch her at Ilya's location.

Inferring that, Ilya was relieved to think her presence wasn't needed.

But the man turned from Sophia to Ilya.

"Ilya-chan, you too, please! Sophia-chan alone may not be enough!"

"Ah, yes."

Multiple. And in considerable numbers.

Realizing she'd been making a convenient assumption, she held back the urge to sigh and kept it inside.

"Elizah, could you tell Bard-san my break's ending early?"

"Sure. Got it. Go ahead."

"I'll be back."

She left the branch and chased after the two who had run on ahead.

Catching up was easy, but she ran slowly to avoid causing extra confusion. Even so, she wasn't the sort to accept extra casualties because she'd been slow. Activating [Clairvoyance], Ilya kept the distance limited and raised the transparency to check on the patients' conditions in advance.

The patients numbered nine, fewer than she'd expected.

Five were critically and seriously wounded, and the remaining four were lightly injured cases that didn't need urgent care.

(There are more than I'd thought, but with Sophia's ability it should be all right.)

It was as if she were being punished for that optimistic outlook.

One of the critically wounded was the common human now marked for purge: Torsti.

The ones brought to the church were those wounded in the battles tied to that purge.

Setting aside the fact that yet more trouble had been brought to Lunéville, with him there, she couldn't leave it to Sophia alone.

Reconsidering in light of the prince's constitution, Ilya altered her plan and chased the backs of the two running ahead.

 

*

 

The moment they reached the church, Sophia's usual cheerful air turned into a different one entirely. With a dignified expression, she faced the patients.

Having treated many patients up to now, Sophia immediately discerned that Torsti's wounds were the worst, and began treating him first.

She moved so fast Ilya couldn't even speak up, so Ilya decided to tend to the other critically wounded patients.

"We're not that bad off. We'll head to the arena's infirmary."

"I'm sorry… we appreciate it."

Without even sparing a glance at the guild members tactfully leaving the medical wing, Sophia continued casting healing magic on Torsti.

But the rate of recovery was incredibly slow.

That said, it wasn't due to any fault of hers. But since she didn't notice the cause and had no way of doing so, Sophia's expression grew more strained with anxiety.

"Sophia, it's all right. Calm down."

"Y-yes…!"

After confirming that no one, Sophia included, was looking her way, Ilya dropped her barrier and chanted the recovery spell, [Heal].

Even after the other critically wounded were fully healed, Torsti was nowhere near full recovery.

Through Sophia's desperate ministrations, he had been stabilized to the point where his life wasn't in immediate danger, but he was nowhere near able to move.

Eventually Sophia's mana ran dry, and she sank to the floor where she was.

"Onee… sama, I'm sorry… please, the rest…"

"There's no need for that."

The one who answered in Ilya's stead was the birdkin man who had just entered the room.

Ilya recognized his face. She'd realized he was the Rondéville Headquarters' vice manager and had been ignoring him, but she hadn't anticipated him interfering with the recovery.

"I heard the purge had been completed and rushed over. Looks like I made it in time."

As if speaking to himself, the vice manager looked down at Torsti with a sigh.

If he'd really flown all the way from the royal capital's association headquarters, he was too fast. The reasonable line was that he'd rushed in once Torsti had been spotted and waited in the surrounding towns until the purge was complete.

In contrast to Ilya, who calmly surmised the situation, Sophia couldn't let his words pass.

"Wh-what do you mean 'no need'…?"

"If we fully heal him, there's a chance he'll escape. As long as he doesn't die, that's enough."

"Th-that's…!"

Sophia tried to protest, but exhaustion made her legs buckle and she almost fell.

Supporting her, Ilya turned her attention to the vice manager, who was about to put shackles on Torsti.

"If you don't want him healed any further, please at least refrain from binding him."

"Easy for you to say. But you saw the guild members who fought him, didn't you? It would be too late once something happens."

From his tone, she sensed he knew Torsti was royalty.

If they allowed him to escape and return to the Empire, the situation would certainly worsen. He must have been planning to restrain him here before that could happen.

The reason they didn't kill him to silence him was that they wanted to avoid the registered Balampax leading to the Empire becoming aware of the assassination of one of their royals.

To Ilya, who looked back at him almost flatly with cool composure, the man made a sneering expression.

"Or are you saying you'll take responsibility and detain him?"

"Yes."

He'd probably thought such a remark would make her back down easily.

When Ilya nodded matter-of-factly with an all right then, the vice manager blinked, taken aback.

"… Are you serious? You look like nothing more than branch staff."

"I do hold a referee's qualification."

A referee couldn't acquire that qualification unless their combat ability and discernment were recognized.

Ilya couldn't tell whether that had convinced him, but the man gave a single magnanimous nod, then put on a base smile.

"… All right. The headquarters manager will arrive later. If you let him escape before then, I'll have you take responsibility."

"Understood."

She felt a slight chill at the snake-like smile, but she had no intention of retracting her words.

If he escaped, she'd just have to catch him again. That was all.

Negotiations concluded, the vice manager retrieved Torsti's registration card from his belongings and left the medical wing as he was.

Catching her breath and having partially recovered from fatigue, Sophia turned a pleading look on Ilya.

"Are we really going to leave him like this…?"

A guilt as if abandoning a stray puppy struck Ilya.

She had means to fully heal him, but for various reasons she couldn't have Sophia there. In the worst case, she could even break the church.

Without finding the right words to fudge those reasons through to Sophia, the one who answered Sophia's question in Ilya's stead was the Apostle, who had entered the room in trade-off with the man.

"Ilya-san has her thoughts on the matter, Sophia."

"Father…"

The Apostle returned a smile to Sophia, then turned to face Ilya.

His gaze, as if trying to see through her, made her uneasy, and judging it couldn't be helped, Ilya nodded.

"Yes. To that end, as soon as he's stable, I'd like him moved to the branch."

"Understood."

Though Sophia still wore a slightly dissatisfied expression, by allowing her to be called over should his condition worsen, Ilya finally got her to accept.

With this, if the mercenary guild announced that the purge was over, the matter would be settled.

… Or so it would have been, had things proceeded so conveniently.

Within less than a month after that, the Sacred Reinhardt Empire issued a statement.

It was retaliation by force against the mercenary guild and any and all organizations that would shelter said organization.

In other words, it was nothing less than a declaration of war from the Empire.