In the darkness, where the sunlight had completely obscured him, Fialaat was alone, his eyes wide open, the light green light glimmering. He felt his teeth chattering unconsciously.

　If this world is really such a trivial one, where there is no point in reaching out for help, but only in clasping one's hands in prayer to God for happiness. There is no need to recite the truth any longer. He will not voluntarily take a minor role in an uninteresting script.

　And most of all, I can't stand the thought of him being forced to dance on such a trivial stage. His dark hair waved in the air.

I don't like it. I don't like the idea of reaching out, reaching out with my fingers, only to die in a pool of blood. So I'm gonna--

　--I'm going to make a hero out of you, that's what I thought.

　That was the moment when the voice that escaped from Fialaat's lips took to the air.

　In the darkness, the dull silver of the spear neighed fiercely as it extended its fangs into Fialaat's flesh. The squire who was supposed to be standing by Mordor's side ran down the corridor, hissing savagely.

　It seemed that his spirit had reached its limit. His teeth were clenched so hard you could see them, and his eyes were completely bloodshot. Then his eyes spoke to Fialaat.

　You're crazy. You're not walking the right path.

　Fialaat could not help but smile at the look in his eyes. You're pointing a weapon at yourself and you're still crazy.

　What a rude, impolite look. You don't understand anything. You don't understand anything. I'm not crazy. There's something wrong with all of us.

　I've never thought of myself as special, or anyone as abnormal. Have you ever loved or hated someone? Or maybe you've never felt any of those emotions at all, and just went through your days not knowing what you were living for. Yes, to me, all of them are strange.

　And yet, they all cover their faces with the skin of reason. They're smiling like they're sane. In the end, they don't know which is themselves, reason or instinct, and they point to others and say, "You are crazy. You are crazy. I am sane.

　Now, what in the world does he mean by "sane"? That's the craziest thing of all. Fialat's cheek twisted.

　The tip of a spear pierces the sky, biting through Fialat's belly. Straight through, with a force that split the wind. The thrust was unmistakably that of a trained man. A flash that Fialaat, who was probably only a sorcerer, would have been unable to avoid.

　The light green light that covered Fialaat's body almost frightened him, and the tip of the spear engaged as if they wanted to.

　Instantly, a deafening sound rushed silently through the darkness. That was the only sound that could be heard.

I didn't want to eat it, I didn't want to attack it. So you can just run away. I'm sure Lugis will still come here.

　Her hair, still black and shiny, waved in the air. The squire's body was lying prostrate on the floor with his spear at the ready. Unable to thrust his spear at the sorcerer in front of him, or even to confront him properly, he fell to the ground. The light green magic slowly licked away at his body.

　One more thing. Phialat's organs let his skull know that the magic has filled his belly. But it's not enough. No, the more, the better the magic.

　Fialaat didn't like this kind of thinking, like those who think that the number of gold coins represents a person, but not this time. After all, this magic power is for him, for Lugis. The mere thought of it makes me think that Fialaat will never have enough of it.

　I'm not sure if this is a good idea or not.


　It's almost like a monster.


　It's almost a monster.

　I'm not sure what to make of this. I'm not sure what to make of it. Her appearance was no different from the one he had seen in the parlor during the day.

　But it's different. Not even close. Mordor realized that his spine was sweating profusely. That's a monster.

　When the first squire pointed the tip of his spear at Fyarad, Mordor was ready to cut Fyarad in two with his back. Of course, if the squire's spearhead gouged Fialaat, so much the better, and if not, if he caved Fialaat's skull in with his own, that would be the end of it.

　But Mordor's feet did not follow the squire, and he remained stuck in the corridor from start to finish. He just stood there, not moving, not even slightly.

　The moment I tried to move my legs, something whispered in the back of my throat. If you go forward, you will die.

　I have had this same feeling many times on the battlefield. That is, when I have been on the battlefield with a being called a hero or a great warrior. Even then, the voice was not as clear as this. Unknowingly, my breathing became ragged. There was an unmistakable look of fear in his heart.

　Without knowing what was going through Mordor's mind, Fialaat said. You can run, but I won't chase you. So, if you want to run, run, he said.



　Hearing those words, Mordor's heart let out a sigh of relief. His brain cried out in gratitude to God for saving him. His body relaxed, enjoying the pleasure of life. Yeah, but...

"Don't be silly, you little brat.

　But only the core of Mordor. But only the core of Maldoror's being, the innermost part of his spirit, could dismiss Fialat's words. The culture he had acquired as a lord, the noble language, the civility, all of it was gone. The coarse words that he used to say when he was a mercenary were flying out of his lips.

　One brat can't be serious. I am Mordor Gorn, the plunderer, the robber.

　I don't rob people like some nobleman without a second thought. I take what I have to take. I have robbed people of their wealth, their lives, their happiness by trampling on them with my own feet. Everything I've taken away with my own hands, my own will. That's my life. And in the end, I even took this city into my own hands.

　That's why I'm not going to back down here. Because I know. There are only two kinds of people in this world: those who are taken and those who take. And once the taker has fallen and become the taker, all that is left is for the new taker to pick up the pieces, even this life.

　That's why I can't let it be taken from me. I'm here because I took what I didn't want to lose.

　Mordor's fingers regain their grip on the axe. He opens his eyes and sinks his teeth into his lips, as if to rouse his slackened body. I felt the blood dripping down my chin.

　Even with all my mental energy, I couldn't hope to match that sickening light green light. The monster in front of me still looks like a monster. But don't retreat, for if you do, a miserable life awaits you. A life of deprivation awaits you with open mouth.

　That's when Mordor's trembling legs gave way and he stepped forward.

　--Good. Then in the name of the one and only God, I give you the name of the beast that guards you.

　Mordor felt a solemn bell ringing in his ear.