The mont Simon’s strike eliminated Silage, Herseva’s pocket dinsion began to shatter.
’Kuh!’
A wave of imnse exhaustion and backlash hit Simon, forcing him to one knee. The void sword in his hand dissolved into nothingness. His vision swam, and his mind went white.
’This is dangerous.’
He couldn’t pass out now. Silage was gone, but the rest of the Blood Cultists remained. He had to face them outside, and the effects of the Bloodstone Fortress might still be active.
’I have to stay conscious, sohow...!’
The world broke apart like glass. Erzebet and Akemus, who had been rushing toward him, vanished mid-stride. Prince, still fighting the cultists, disappeared. The mummies, the Golden City, the Death Land, the Spider’s Den, the jungle, the zombies, the corpse spiders, and the Skullwings—every being Herseva had summoned was violently returned to its original place.
The scenery snapped back into focus, returning him to the dungeon lord’s chamber. Towering black cliffs and ore-encrusted trees surrounded him.
’The Bloodstone Fortress?’
He saw that the fortress Silage had cast was already in ruins, with clean, sharp cuts running through the shattered fragnts.
"W-we’re out!"
"We escaped that horrible world!"
The Blood Cult fanatics were cheering, oblivious to their leader’s fate, simply relieved to be free of the sand world. All that remained were Simon, a limp Herseva on the ground, and a nearly depleted Pier.
Soon, the fanatics’ gazes fell upon Simon.
"Looks like he’s finally spent."
They hefted their weapons and advanced. Simon tried to stand, but his body refused to obey. Keeping his eyes open was a monuntal effort.
"The brat who even took down the Archbishop," one of them sneered, licking his lips. "Offer up your head, and I’ll be promoted to bishop for sure...!"
He never finished the sentence.
A flurry of red sword strikes crisscrossed the chamber, and fountains of blood erupted from a dozen fanatics at once.
’Spurt! Spurt! Spurt!’
From above, pure white feathers rained down, striking the cultists in the neck. They either foad at the mouth or collapsed, unconscious.
"Wh-what the—!"
"An ambush!"
Chaos erupted among the remaining fanatics. Simon forced his head up.
’Ah.’
Descending from the cavern ceiling were two figures, like a matched pair of angel and demon. One had hair as black as night, the other as pale as platinum, both fluttering as they landed.
"Simon! Are you okay?!" the black-haired girl cried out, rushing to his side.
"Heehee. I knew you’d still be alive," the girl with ivory hair added, giving him a sly wink.
"Lorraine! Serne! How did you two...!"
Simon’s words caught in his throat as Lorraine threw her arms around him, holding him tight. Her faint, pleasant scent filled his senses.
"...You went through so much." Her eyelashes trembled. He had only ever seen her as powerful and composed; this raw vulnerability was new.
"Wow, how cheap, hugging him all by yourself," Serne pouted. As she spoke, a fanatic tried to sneak up from behind, only to be felled by another feather that seed to appear from nowhere.
"...This was Walter’s doing, wasn’t it? Or should I say, Silage’s?" Lorraine asked, her voice muffled against his shoulder. She must have pieced it together from the remnants of the Bloodstone Fortress.
Simon managed a nod.
"Yeah. It’s okay now."
Lorraine gently lowered him to the ground. "Leave the rest to us. Get so rest."
At those words, the thread of consciousness he had been desperately clinging to finally snapped. His eyes slid shut.
Her ruby-red eyes watched him drift into unconsciousness. She opened her subspace and pulled out a frilly pink pillow—a personal comfort item she always carried, as she slept poorly in unfamiliar places. After carefully placing her treasured pillow under Simon’s head, she rose to her feet.
’FWOOSH!’
A furious, crimson light blazed in her eyes. The fanatics flinched.
[You will pay the price.]
Two horns sprouted from her forehead. The air behind her split open like a gaping maw, and from within, searing flashes of crimson death lanced out toward the cultists.
It was overwhelming firepower. Each ti one of the red beams swept across the chamber, the ground cracked and a violent gale erupted. The remaining cultists were obliterated before they could even react.
"Serne! Don’t let a single one get away!" Lorraine roared, unleashing a torrent of her abilities.
"You’ve been getting on my last nerve, you know that?" Serne retorted, crossing her arms as she sent another volley of feathers flying. "Don’t order around. I’m doing this for Simon, not for you."
Hundreds of feathers shot into the air. Dozens ford a protective barrier, others conjured a ’Dark Flare’ that hung nacingly overhead, and the rest fell to the ground, transforming into ’Feather Soldiers’ that blocked any hope of escape.
One was a torrent of raw power, the other a master of dazzling utility. For all their bickering, they were a terrifyingly effective team. While most of the cultists were weak, a few were professional-grade necromancers who far surpassed the average Kizen first-year. But even they were helpless against the girls’ onslaught.
"W-we can’t even get close!"
"Are those two really students?!"
The remnants of the Blood Cult were swiftly suppressed.
[Mwahaha! As expected of the next generation of rulers,] Pier muttered from his perch on a nearby rock.
"You," Lorraine said, turning her head. Even while firing destructive beams in every direction, she seed perfectly at ease. "Are you one of Simon’s Ancient Undead?"
Pier rely grinned, but his silence was answer enough.
She lowered her eyelids slightly.
"So Simon really is the Commander of Betrayal..."
"Oh my. You’re just figuring that out now?" Serne chid in, puffing out her chest as she toyed with the last of the cultists.
"...I had my suspicions. Though my mother never told ."
"That’s a sha. Simon told ’himself’."
Lorraine shot Serne a withering glare before letting out a sigh. "This isn’t the ti for that."
Whether because Simon had defeated Silage or for so other reason, the ring of blood sealing the dungeon entrance was beginning to crumble. The adults would arrive soon. They had to handle this.
"Serne. Can you erase their mories?"
"It’s not that hard. It’s what I do," Serne replied with a sly smile. "But didn’t you always lecture about how I have no right to erase human mories?"
Caught off guard, Lorraine bit her lip.
Serne shrugged. "You told never to do it again. Are you, the successor to Nephthys, really going to go back on your word?"
"...Then what’s your plan? Surely you don’t want to see Simon captured and executed as the Commander of Betrayal, do you?"
At the word ’execution’, Serne’s playful deanor vanished. A mont later, a cunning smile crept onto her face.
"Oh my. Are you threatening with Simon’s life? I think he’d be very sad to hear that."
"Stop playing gas and think rationally. It would be a far greater sin to stand by and do nothing when we have the power to save him."
"Kizen is always like this. You people always think you’re in charge."
"I am—!"
[Mwahaha!]
A sudden laugh cut them both off. Pier was grinning from his rock.
[Rulers of the next generation. Your physical prowess is formidable, but your minds have much growing to do. This is no ti for emotional squabbles.]
With a bony finger, he pointed to the collapsing cavern ceiling.
[If you cannot agree, I can always sever ties with both Kizen and the Ivory Tower and flee with the boy myself.]
Their pent-up frustrations had simply boiled over in front of Simon. In truth, both Lorraine and Serne knew they had to work together.
"Let’s hurry."
---
After drifting through an endless void for what felt like an eternity, Simon opened his eyes.
A white ceiling. Sunlight streaming through a window. The distant chirping of birds. It felt peaceful.
He blinked a few tis, then slowly turned his head to take in his surroundings.
’I’m in the Kizen infirmary.’
He was dressed in a patient’s gown, with tubes connected to his arms. The sterile scent of dicine finally registered. Outside the window, the familiar Kizen campus stretched out before him. Slowly, his mind began to clear, and the mories ca flooding back. He focused on the very last one.
-Leave the rest to us. Get so rest.
Lorraine’s voice.
’Thank goodness.’
He’d half-expected to wake up in a Kizen dungeon. The fact that he was here ant they had handled the aftermath.
"Ugh!"
The simple act of rembering sent a sharp pain through his skull. He let out a small groan, and instantly, the door flew open with a clatter of footsteps.
"S-Student Simon! You’re awake!"
The infirmary attendant’s eyes went wide. She waved frantically toward the hallway, and a mont later, more footsteps hurried in.
"Student Simon!"
The infirmary doctor followed, muttering under his breath as he checked Simon’s forehead and the readings on a nearby magic circle. He let out a sigh of relief.
"I’m glad you’ve woken up safely."
"Wh-what happened? Are the others okay?"
"No one was hurt. It’s all thanks to you." The doctor sighed again and turned his head. "And how long are you going to hide there?"
A white sheet on a nearby chair began to rustle before popping up. It thrashed about, and a small, silver-haired girl with a cute face erged with a flourish.
"Hi! Long ti no see."
"Lady Nephthys!"
Simon’s face broke into a wide smile.
’Thump, thump, thump!’
More footsteps echoed from the hall, and the door opened again. Two of Kizen’s elite Crows knelt before Nephthys.
"Lady Nephthys! A report on the war situation."
The doctor protested their intrusion, but Nephthys simply smiled, listened to their report, and gave a few quiet instructions. The Crows bowed respectfully and departed.
"I-is sothing wrong?" Simon asked, sensing the tense atmosphere.
"Yup!"
Nephthys bead. "We’re at war with the Blood Cult!"
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