The crescent moon tilted westward, and the fire burned down to embers, leaving behind only a faint red glow.
The ground was a complete ss. The wyvern had been reduced to a pale white skeleton, and gnawed-clean remains were scattered everywhere.
The silver-haired girl had long since lost the distant aloofness she showed earlier. She now lounged lazily against the side of a tree, her stomach still as flat as ever despite the astonishing weight inside it. One could even vaguely hear the sloshing of mushroom soup within. Her brow-length bangs stirred gently in the breeze.
"How do you feel?"
Leaning half against the trunk, Samael chuckled as he picked at his teeth, then handed the white-haired girl a few mint leaves to freshen her mouth.
"Delicious food is good civilization."
Altera thought for a mont, then gave a small, solemn nod.
Delicious food... good civilization?
Training successful.
The Ancient Serpent nodded in satisfaction, his smile aningful.
Just as Samael was preparing to continue his brainwashing, Altera across from him suddenly frowned slightly, a trace of pain appearing on her face.
The silver-haired girl imdiately pulled a crystal-clear fragnt from the leather pouch at her waist and raised it to her mouth.
But before she could eat it, Samael grabbed her wrist.
The King of the Huns' pupils contracted. The muscles in her body tensed at once, like a tiger whose prey had just been snatched away. Her normally expressionless, slightly airheaded face instantly turned cold and murderous, like a fiend descending upon the world.
"Relax. No one's taking it from you. I've just seen this before."
As he spoke, Samael took out a star core fragnt from his own collection with his left hand and held it up in front of Altera's eyes.
The Hunnic king's gaze was imdiately drawn to the glittering crystal fragnt under the moonlight, and her guard unknowingly relaxed.
"You want to eat this? Here, let show you a better way."
Grinning, the Ancient Serpent picked up a skewer of roasted dragon at. Right in front of Altera's stunned eyes, he crushed the crystalline fragnt between his fingers with a crack, ground it into powder, and sprinkled it evenly over the at. Then he put it back over the fire. Once it was crisp on the outside and tender inside, he handed it back to the King of the Huns and gestured for her to try it.
The silver-haired girl cautiously took a bite. Her eyes narrowed in pleasure, and the tension in her brow eased as she muttered while eating,
"Mmm... good civilization..."
After that little episode, the three of them grew noticeably more familiar.
Altera sat on a stone stool like an elentary school student, resting her cheek in one hand, listening with a serious face to the teachings of a certain "good person."
Just as the world has day and night, and people are divided into n and won, everything in the world, civilizations, customs, and life itself, also has distinctions between good and bad. They cannot all be destroyed in one sweep.
For example, enjoying delicious food is good civilization. Ruining a al is bad civilization.
Cute things are good civilization. Fearful looks are bad civilization.
Dango is good civilization. Moon-viewing is bad civilization.
Freeloading is good civilization. Asking for like, comnt, and subscribe is bad civilization. Heresy.
A guaranteed pull every ten rolls is good civilization. FGO's summoning system is bad civilization. Death penalty.
Well... alright, she did not really understand that last one either. But this person who gave her dicine and invited her to enjoy good food had to be right.
Altera listened in partial understanding and even grabbed a couple of skewers now and then as snacks.
Samael rambled on at length until his throat went dry. Then, seeing that the ti was right, he casually asked,
"So, what kind of civilization are the Hunnic tribes?"
"Good civilization."
Altera answered without hesitation.
"Congratulations. Correct."
Samael gave her shoulder a firm pat, his eyes full of approval and emotion. Then he sprinkled a tiny star core fragnt over so grilled at as a reward and handed it to her.
The silver-haired girl visibly straightened up, happily accepted it, and waited even more attentively for the next question.
"If one day you had to destroy the world, would you hurt them?"
"No."
"Congratulations, correct again. Then what about delicious food?"
"Good civilization."
"So by the sa logic, the one who made this food, , and the red-haired big sister who handed it to you..."
"Good civilization. I cannot hurt you."
"Congratulations. You've even learned to answer ahead of ti."
With a grave expression, Samael placed both hands on Altera's shoulders, his eyes full of the pleased satisfaction of a teacher seeing promise in a student.
"Open your mouth."
Then he flicked a crystal shard from his palm straight into Altera's mouth.
"Catch!"
A mont later, the Ancient Serpent let out another shout as a second shard was "accidentally" flicked off course. Altera, who had been sitting obediently on the stone stool, sprang up at the sound, craned her neck, and caught the falling crystal in her mouth before swallowing it with satisfaction.
At last, Samael opened his hand and held up a third reward.
Without hesitation, Altera leaned forward, lowered her head, and pecked at it. Her mouth closed over the man's palm, her pink tongue curling as she drew the prize into her mouth. A trace of pride and self-satisfaction appeared on her pretty face, as though she had overco countless obstacles to claim victory.
Behind them, Boudica could not help recalling how her tribe had once tad wolves into dogs.
She covered her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead, unable to bear the sight of this scene that utterly shattered her values and worldview.
But as the excitent faded, Altera frowned again, her expression turning puzzled and serious.
"But... the Great Shaman said you are enemies. Enemies must be annihilated."
The silver-haired girl's right hand once again reached restlessly for the Sword of Mars. Boudica's nerves instantly tightened, and she was once more on full alert.
But Samael stopped Boudica and remained completely calm. Smiling at Altera, he asked in a guiding tone,
"If you annihilate all your enemies, will there be food different from what the Hunnic tribes already have? If we die, no one will be left to roast this for you."
"..."
"The more people you kill, do those frightened eyes really beco fewer?"
"..."
"If the world is destroyed, all lovely things and all beautiful things will go up in flas. That includes your own people. They too will pay a bloody price. Is that really the outco you want?"
"...Then... what should I do? Destruction is my duty. Civilization... uh, bad civilization... is my natural enemy..."
"Destroy their civilization without destroying their lives."
After all the circling around, Samael finally stood up, revealing his true purpose. His eyes flickered darkly, and his tone carried deep aning.
"And if you want to defeat them, you must first beco them. So whether it is good civilization or bad civilization, you need to study it deeply and understand it."
The morning sun rose, scattering flakes of gold across the earth. Standing with the sunlight at his back, the man looked like a perfect sculpture gilded in gold.
Altera stared at him for a long, long ti.
...
By the ti the sun was high, the endless grassland rolled in waves of green beneath the wind. A streak of seven-colored light dropped into a round tent ahead, where battle banners had been raised.
"My King, didn't you go out to find a dragon beast for transportation? Why did you return on foot? Could it be that the wyvern we spotted earlier changed its nest?"
Holding a vine staff and wearing painted markings on his face, the old man knelt and asked the question that had been troubling him.
"Mmm... liked it... find two more..."
After a brief pause, the indifferent eyes of Altera, seated upon her throne, flickered with an unusual light.
"As you command, my King. But we do not have much ti. You must prepare as soon as possible."
The old shaman bowed and accepted the order, then turned to leave. Before stepping out, he did not forget to turn back and give one final quiet reminder.
But the figure on the seat seed not to hear him at all. Instead, she kept muttering to herself,
"Mmm... tasted good... good civilization..."
...
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