"Senomi, you've done well…"
"But I failed to keep that assassin."
"The little Kuranta with Pegasus blood, correct? It doesn't matter. The Armorless Union is still useful. Those so-called assassins are merely a blade of the Chamber of Commerce. There's no need to dwell on it."
"…Understood, sir."
"No need to call me that, my dear Senomi… After all, this is your vacation. The fact that you don't find your superior bothersome already moves me~"
"It is my honor to serve you."
"Ah, no need to be so formal. You're not required to act as my guard right now… enjoy your leave, Senomi."
"…Yes."
The Black Snake lurking within Senomi's mind sank once more into slumber.
Of course, it was aware of the pink-haired Zalak's feelings toward it… but what of it?
Those feelings were simply another means through which it could control her.
Loyalty. Faith. Love. Friendship. The Black Snake never rejected such emotions.
After all, they were the bonds that connected people, one of the foundations that allowed others to accept its influence willingly.
The Black Snake enjoyed being admired, served, and worshipped… even if it never truly believed in the permanence of those emotions.
Like food, it was enough to partake of them regularly.
Emotions required cultivation. Though the Black Snake excelled at manipulating terran nature, it had never been arrogant enough to believe it fully understood the terran heart.
Only those completely eroded by it—tools, in other words—were truly within its grasp.
Their thoughts, souls, and lives had lost all autonomy, becoming playthings in its hands.
They were already dead, incapable of change.
Even for a being that had lived for a thousand years, such cases were rare. After all, few would ever "fall in love" with a god.
At times, even it did not quite know how to handle this pink-haired Zalak.
'Forget it. A subordinate who can create value is a good subordinate.'
The Black Snake shut off its perception of Senomi.
It could not monitor every individual connected to it at all times. It was far from that powerful.
In practice, the more it "trusted" someone—that is, the more goodwill they held toward it—the less frequently it read their thoughts.
On one hand, constant mind-reading would destabilize it, and it disliked the feeling of knowing everything in advance.
On the other, it simply lacked the capacity.
Occasional insight was necessary, but it was better to focus its attention on those less "friendly."
___
Senomi lowered her hand from her brow.
"…"
She glanced in Arthur's direction. Even without a scope, she could not make out his figure clearly as he stood there, seemingly chatting and laughing with Młynar.
"…As long as I am of use to my lord, that is enough."
Senomi murmured.
Who was she speaking to? The Black Snake, whose perception had already been cut off?
Or was she trying to convince herself, to suppress a desire too extravagant to entertain?
After all, to that "god," she might be nothing more than a fleeting ripple in an endless life, perhaps not even enough to stir the surface.
'…Then let me set a small goal. Let that lord remember me a little longer.'
Senomi let out a self-mocking smile before disappearing from the rooftop.
___
"…Shining, I know this is sudden, but could I ask for your guidance?"
Margaret, undergoing Originium Arts treatment, spoke to the silent Sarkaz medic beside her.
Nightingale had already gone to rest. Her condition did not allow her to stay up through the night watching Margaret train.
"…I can. But I can only teach you my own understanding of the sword."
After a moment of hesitation, Shining agreed to Margaret's request.
Though she had grown weary of killing, even of drawing her blade, she was not someone bound by rigid principles.
The sword she wielded now was for protecting her companions, not for slaughter.
Margaret's strength had already improved noticeably under her uncle's guidance… but it was still not enough.
Shining did not know the true strength of that "Mad Laughing Knight."
But she understood the terror of a "demon."
She had read many documents about the Black Snake, yet the information she gathered was frustratingly limited.
The contradictory and fragmented accounts of that immortal made it impossible to grasp its true nature, like trying to see through a veil of mist.
To the survivors of Gaul, it was a nightmare known as the "Calamity of a Thousand Faces."
To Ursus, a benevolent founding father, the "Eternal Duke."
During the Ukaz conflict, a "terranitarian."
And across this land, an evil god—the "Immortal Black Snake."
'…What are you, really?'
Shining let out a quiet sigh.
She simply could not reconcile those identities into a single being.
At the same time, out in the wilderness, a suspicious group slowly advanced toward the Kawalerielki.
Among them were men and women, young and old. What they shared was that they were all Sarkaz.
Most wore simple red robes, while a smaller number dressed in far stranger attire.
Among those who seemed to hold higher status, some wore black suits, others tall top hats, some white gloves, others polished leather shoes. Yet not a single one of them was fully dressed in a complete outfit.
The rest of their attire still resembled that of traditional Sarkaz mercenaries.
After all, how could they dare dress exactly like the one they worshipped—the true king of Kazdel, "Satan"?
Only one among them could be called relatively well-dressed: a burly Sarkaz man in a suit, wearing a fairly new top hat.
"…One of our lord's incarnations has appeared in Kazimierz."
"Then the time has come to reclaim the 'debt of the Sarkaz' from Kazimierz."
The burly Sarkaz leader removed his hat and bowed toward the empty distance.
The others followed suit.
That direction was Kazimierz, Kawalerielki.
"Those arrogant Kuranta, and their greedy knight attendants, have enjoyed far too much of our 'gifts,' have drawn far too much blood from the Sarkaz people."
"Then, by the principle of equivalent exchange, we have the right to demand our 'price.'"
"May Satan's gaze forever watch over us. May His justice protect all Sarkaz."
"Praise be to you, Lord Satan."