The smoke from her kiseru curled lazily into the air, a ribbon of fragrant purple haze that drifted over the balcony railing and dissolved into the vibrant chaos of the city below.
Yorna Mishigure, the Seventh Divine General of the Vollachian Empire and the mistress of the Crimson Lapis Castle, leaned against the vermilion wood, her eyes half-closed.
To anyone else, the noise rising from Chaosflame might have been a headache. The clashing of smith hammers, the shouting of merchants, the roar of beastmen, and the laughter of children—it was a cacophony.
But to Yorna, it was a heartbeat.
Through the Soul Marriage Technique, she could feel them. Not just their physical locations, but their vitality. A faint, thrumming web of life that connected her to every soul who pledged loyalty to her. She felt their joy, their exhaustion, and, increasingly of late, their unease.
"Yorna-sama."
The voice came from behind the sliding doors. It was low and respectful—a wolf-man messenger that was somewhat familiar to her.
"You may enter." Yorna commanded softly, not turning her gaze from the city.
The door slid open, and the messenger knelt, knees resting against the tatami mats.
"I bring news from the direction of Guaral, Yorna-sama. It... it is rather disturbing."
Yorna tapped the metal bowl of her pipe against the railing, the quiet sound of tapping cutting through the silence of the room.
"Disturbing? In this Empire, disturbance is as common as the sunrise. Speak, child. What has the world frightened you with today?"
The messenger swallowed hard.
"It is not just a skirmish, Yorna-sama. The Imperial encampment that had been dispatched to the Buddheim Jungle... it has been annihilated."
Yorna's hand paused.
"Annihilated?"
She turned then, her kimono rustling like falling leaves.
"By the Shudraq? That should be impossible. I've heard they are fierce, yes, but they lack the capabilities to wipe out a fortified camp overnight."
"That is the thing, Yorna-sama. The survivors... the few who fled to the Fortress City of Guaral... they speak of a monster. A black-haired strategist who commands the Shudraq and wields a dagger with the symbol of the Wolf."
Yorna's eyes narrowed.
"Black hair...?"
"Yes. And the rumors are spreading like wildfire in the Fortified City. They say..." The messenger hesitated, fearing the absurdity of the words. "They say he is the Emperor's illegitimate child. That he has come to claim the throne and burn down the false hierarchy."
"Oh my."
Yorna brought the pipe to her lips, inhaling deeply before exhaling a long, thin stream of smoke. A smile, sharp and amused, touched her lips.
"The Emperor's bastard son you speak of? I find that unlikely to be true. Vincent is many things—cold, calculating, arrogant—but careless with his lineage? Absolutely not."
She knew Emperor Vincent Vollachia. She knew the man behind the throne. The idea of him having a secret son running wild in the jungle with Amazonians was a farce. It simply must be.
However...
"A black-haired strategist... commanding monsters and rebels..."
Her mind drifted to the guest currently residing in her castle. The white-haired child, Satoru Gojo. He, too, was an anomaly that she could not quite understand. And he had arrived with a companion—Meili Portroute—who had spoken of being separated from others.
No, unlikely, that is just too far-fetched at the moment. The timing might be suspicious, but I'll consider it a coincidence until I find any proof.
"Is there anything else?" Yorna asked.
"Yes. The rumors say this 'illegitimate child' is... ruthless. That he utilized the Mabeasts of the jungle to slaughter the soldiers. They call him a calamity in human skin."
Yorna chuckled at the words of the messenger.
"A calamity, is it? How incredibly dramatic. It sounds as though someone is trying very hard to paint a rather terrifying picture with a claim like that."
She looked down at the kneeling messenger with a gaze that was both maternal and terrifyingly heavy. Something that could not be ignored no matter how much one tries to, solely because of Yorna Mishigure's power, and her standing as a Divine General.
"You have done well to bring this to me. Go, rest. Eat. You look famished."
"T-Thank you, Yorna-sama!"
As the messenger scurried away, Yorna was left alone in the silence of her chambers.
She walked over to a small table, picking up a fan and snapping it open.
"A revolution..." she murmured to the empty room.
The Empire was cracking. She had felt it for months up to this point. The disappearance of the Emperor, the strange movements of the other Divine Generals... and now this.
If a rebellion was truly starting in the east, it would not be long before the flames reached Chaosflame.
"The strong rule the weak..." Yorna recited the Empire's mantra with a distasteful curl of her lip.
She despised that law. It was a law for beasts, not people.
If this 'illegitimate child' intended to tear down that law... perhaps he would be an interesting variable. Or perhaps he would simply be another tyrant seeking to burn her city to the ground.
"Well, whatever the case may be..." Yorna whispered, her eyes glowing with the faint, amber light of her soul. "I will not let a single spark of that war even singe the hair of my children."
She thought of that ever familiar little girl, Tanza. She thought of the shopkeepers, the orphans, the demi-humans who looked to her for protection and with reverence.
"Let them come. Let this revolution come. Let the Emperor come."
Yorna Mishigure smiled, and the air in the room grew heavy with crushing, majestic pressure.
"I am the Mother of this city. And I protect what is mine."
—————————————————————————
Satoru Gojo sat on the edge of a high stone spire, his legs dangling over the dizzying drop to the streets of Chaosflame below.
The wind whipped at his white hair and tugged at the bandages wrapped around his eyes, but he didn't flinch. He just sat there, chewing on a piece of overly sweet dried fruit he'd swiped from the kitchens, lost in thought.
It had been over a day since his little "sightseeing" tour with Tanza and Meili. Since then, he had mostly kept to himself, exploring the vertical labyrinth of the city or brooding on rooftops like a gargoyle.
Peaceful.
That was the word for this city. Despite the name "Chaosflame," despite the monstrous appearances of its inhabitants, it was peaceful. Yorna's influence was absolute. She had created a sanctuary where the weak didn't have to fear the strong, because she ensured they could coexist.
It was nice.
It was boring.
Gojo crushed the dried fruit in his hand, letting the crumbs fall into the abyss.
What am I doing?
He flexed his small, child-sized hands. The cursed energy flowed through him, potent and limitless, but trapped in a vessel that felt wrong. It was like trying to pour the ocean into a teacup.
He thought back to everything that had happened since he arrived in this world.
The summoning. The excitement. The confusion. The battle in Priestella.
Seeing Suguru's face twisted in that mocking smile.
The realization that despite supposedly being "The Strongest," it didn't matter. He was just a frog in a well who didn't know the ocean.
I lost.
The thought, even after recollecting it several times over, still tasted like ash.
And now? Now he was here. A child in a foreign land. A guest in a castle run by a fox-woman who preached ideals that sounded annoyingly like the best friend he had failed to save.
If I stay here doing nothing... I'm just a spectator.
He could feel it. The world was moving. Gears were turning in the distance. He wasn't a fool; he had heard the whispers from the civilians, listened in on Yorna's private meetings. Chaos was coming to the rest of the Empire.
If Gojo sat here, eating sweets and playing house with Tanza and Meili, he would be safe. He would be comfortable.
But he would be irrelevant.
And if I'm irrelevant... then Suguru died for nothing. Sitting back and doing nothing, even in this new world, would be no different than laughing at Suguru's death.
He needed a purpose. He needed a stage. He needed to remind the world—this world and his own—that Satoru Gojo was not someone who could be written out of the script.
"Haaah..."
He flopped back onto the stone roof, staring up at the alien sky.
"Someone give me a quest or something. I'm bored out of my mind."
And, as if the universe had been waiting for him to ask, a shadow fell over him.
It wasn't a cloud.
Gojo sat up instantly, the Six Eyes piercing through his bandages toward the sky.
Far above, descending from the clouds like a meteor shower, were shapes. Large, winged shapes.
"Huh... dragons. That's pretty cool—but.... actually, that's real bad."
He hopped to his feet, muscles tensing.
He wasn't sure if dragons in this world could breathe fire, but the chances were high. If they decided to rain hellfire down on the city, Gojo would be hard-pressed to stop it. The range of attack would be too vast to cover instantly, especially in this shrunken state.
Floating above were dozens of dragons, their scales glittering in the sunlight, their wings beating in a rhythm that sent shockwaves through the air.
And riding the largest one—a massive, sleek beast that looked more like a fighter jet than a lizard—was a pair of unfamiliar figures.
Gojo dusted off his outfit as he lifted himself up to his feet, a sharp, electric grin spreading across his face.
"Well, well. Ask and ye shall receive, right?"
The dragons didn't attack. Instead, they circled the Crimson Lapis Castle, a clear show of military might. They were saying, without words, that destroying this city was entirely within their power.
While the squadron remained high above, the lead dragon landed in the courtyard, its wings kicking up a storm of dust.
Gojo didn't wait. He hopped off the spire, using his cursed technique to slow his descent, landing lightly on a balcony overlooking the courtyard.
From his vantage point, he watched as two figures dismounted.
The first was a child—or at least, she looked like one. A small girl with sharp, curved horns and an aura that screamed "violence." She carried herself with the unbridled arrogance of someone who had never been told 'no.'
The second figure was a stark contrast. An grey-haired old man, dressed in the robes of a high official. He moved with a quiet, eerie grace, his eyes seeming to be constantly narrowed.
Gojo leaned over the railing, resting his chin in his hand as he hummed in thought.
In an instant, the little girl's eyes locked onto Gojo's small figure on the balcony. She pointed a clawed finger at him, her voice ringing out clear and loud.
"There. That is the one."
Gojo blinked, pointing at himself. "Me?"
The old man followed her gaze, a polite, chilling smile touching his lips.
"Indeed..." the old man said, his voice smooth as silk. "We have traveled a long way to find you."
Gojo hopped over the railing, floating down to the ground to stand between the castle and the new arrivals. He shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head.
"Fans? Autographs? Sorry, I'm fresh out of pens."
The girl growled at his arrogance, taking a step forward.
"Do not be insolent to this friggin' dragon, child!"
At that enraged declaration, Gojo raised a brow in genuine interest.
"You? A dragon? Dunno about that one... I mean, just look at you. You're a total loli! What is it with this place and shrinking people, huh?!"
He flashed a knowing grin, purposefully poking the bear—or rather, the dragon. She seemed fairly powerful, and for a moment, Gojo was wanting to test that. Though, he did hesitate.
"You.... dare to mock this dragon? You, a pathetic human child!?"
Her pupils contracted into vertical slits. She growled, her knees bending as claws extended from her fingertips, clearly prepared to tear him apart.
But before she could lunge, the old man stepped forward, placing a calming hand in the air.
"...I hope you will forgive Madelyn here. As you can see, she is rather prone to aggression when provoked."
Gojo's eyes narrowed behind his bandages as he watched the old man.
He didn't like him. Not in the slightest.
Perhaps it was because he hadn't spoken to many old people in his life who had a thorough hatred for him, but this guy gave off the exact same vibe as the Jujutsu higher-ups. The vibe of a man who viewed people as tools, and hated when things weren't in his control.
"More importantly than that... we are here," Berstetz continued, extending a hand, "to offer you a place where that calamitous power of yours can be properly utilized."
"——Tch!"
Madelyn clicked her tongue, averting her gaze to suppress her anger at being leashed.
"You're here to... recruit me? Heh, hahah!" Gojo laughed, a short, dry sound. "For what, you fogey? A circus?"
"For the Empire," Berstetz corrected softly. "We are building a new order... a world where strength is recognized and rewarded. We believe... you would fit in perfectly."
Gojo looked at them.
He looked at the dragons, symbols of overwhelming power.
And he felt a spark in his chest.
It wasn't loyalty, of course not. It wasn't trust. It was amusement.
Here was a purpose. Here was a stage. Here were people who looked at him and saw someone powerful, someone capable, even in this shrunken body.
Gojo grinned, and the air around him crackled with blue energy.
"The Empire, huh? Sounds like a damn hassle."
He took a step forward, his voice dropping an octave.
"Why the hell should I? What, you old fogey, you want someone else to shine your boots as well as that girl? Sure, it sounds interesting, but you've made a few mistakes..."
A blue glow began to lace itself around his fingers as he lifted his hand.
It was no surprise that he hated following orders. Being seen as nothing more than a weapon was the story of his life.
"Firstly, I don't want to go around aimlessly causing destruction. I'm not a monster, like you for some reason seem to think I am, you bastard. What I want is far simpler than mindless bloodshed."
Madelyn snarled, her hand snapping behind her back to grip the hilt of her boomerang-like blade.
"And secondly..." Gojo continued, his grin widening into something feral. "I'm no sheep. I don't follow orders, especially not from some old fart like you. I dunno, you just give me a vibe that makes me want to punch you in the face. Don't blame me for looking so damn punchable."
"———"
Inwardly, Gojo was rather impressed. The old man didn't flinch. He didn't even blink at the crude insult. Instead, he raised a calm hand to silence Madelyn, who looked ready to tear Gojo's throat out.
It would be a lie to say Gojo didn't want a fight. A little brawl would be the perfect cure for the boredom that had been gnawing at him for days.
He didn't believe he would lose. Even in this shrunken state, he was confident he could mop the floor with the "dragon" girl and her flying lizards.
But he hesitated.
The Six Eyes scanned the city below the castle. The streets were teeming with life—demi-humans, children, merchants. If a fight broke out here, the collateral damage would be catastrophic. The dragons above wouldn't hesitate to rain fire, and Gojo couldn't protect everyone.
So, out of respect for Yorna Mishigure, he restrained himself.
"Is that truly the case?" Berstetz asked, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow.
Gojo tilted his head, studying the old man. Then, the grin on his face warped into a full-blown laugh. He keeled forward, slapping his knee.
"Hahahaha! Yeah, yeah, old man! That's exactly the case. See..."
He straightened up, his demeanor shifting so rapidly it would give most people whiplash. The playfulness vanished, replaced by a cold, piercing stare.
"When you talk about 'properly utilizing my strength,' it doesn't exactly scream 'I have your best interests at heart.' You don't know me, at all. All you really see is a tool to make your job easier. A weapon to point at your enemies. It's pretty obvious with how you look at me. I've seen glares like that before."
The Six Eyes, even suppressed beneath the bandages, caught every micro-expression. The slight tightening of Berstetz's jaw. The flicker of calculation in his eyes. It was the same look the Jujutsu higher-ups used to give him.
"I've got questions, old fart," Gojo continued, his voice flat. "Why do you want my help? And how do you know who I am?"
He opened his mouth to press further, but a sudden shift in the atmosphere silenced him.
It seemed they were expecting this.
"Are you alright, child?"
Yorna Mishigure landed softly down onto the ground, her kimono settling around her like a cloud. Her attention was focused entirely on Gojo.
Right. I kind of forgot we're literally in Yorna's backyard. Thank goodness I didn't start a war by doing something rash, huh?
Gojo let out a short breath of relief at his own decision-making, flashing her a childish grin.
"Heh~ I'm A-okay! Thanks for asking."
"I am glad to hear that. But now..."
Her tone shifted. The relief evaporated, replaced by a dark, focused pressure. She took a single step forward, but the weight of her presence slammed into the courtyard like a physical blow.
"You, girl!" Madelyn stepped forward at the same time, snarling. "This dragon remembers you well...!!"
However, the sight of Yorna—radiant and terrifying—made her pause. She clicked her tongue, forcing herself to calm down.
"Yes. I remember you as well, Madelyn Eschart," Yorna said coolly. "Our last meeting ended in a stalemate. But do not mistake my hospitality for weakness. Even with those dragons in the sky, you are outnumbered here in my city."
She turned her gaze to the Prime Minister.
"Answer me this, Berstetz Fondalfon. Why are you here?"
"I believe you'll have to be more specific than that, Mistress of the Demon City." Berstetz replied, his voice calm and authoritative.
"Very well then."
Yorna's pupils contracted. She took a short drag from her kiseru, exhaling a burst of multi-colored mist.
"This is my city. This is my territory. I am already known for standing against the Empire. For a man whose importance is outweighed only by His Excellency the Emperor, killing you right now might be preferable to letting you speak."
Berstetz gave a helpless shrug as a response, before he opened his mouth.
"I suppose you would be correct. However, if we fight, you would lose hundreds of your people in the crossfire. Would the child there prefer that as well?"
"———"
Gojo felt all eyes shift back to him.
"Just wait a second, Yorna-san." Gojo interjected, stepping between them.
"——Child?"
He scratched the back of his neck, looking at Berstetz.
"Keep explaining on from what you were talking about before, old fart. Before I fall asleep."
Berstetz nodded, his expression unreadable.
"It is as you said before, Satoru Gojo. You are no weapon, and that is not what I seek. I would not have come here personally if I intended to enslave you. The risks are too high."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"The Sacred Vollachian Empire is on the brink of a civil war unlike anything seen in generations. Thousands—tens of thousands—of innocent lives will be lost if the chaos is not stopped. The rebels who seek to overthrow the throne care nothing for the lives of civilians. They will burn this nation to the ground to achieve their goals."
Gojo's lips pursed. His eyes narrowed behind the bandages.
"So, you want my help in stopping this 'civil war' before innocent people start dying? That's the pitch?"
Berstetz nodded.
"You would be correct. Your answer?"
"———"
In all honesty, Gojo was intrigued. Not just because he was bored. Not just because he needed a purpose either, or at least, not completely.
Simply put, while he was capable of cold logic, he didn't want thousands of people dying if he had the power to stop such an event.
I guess I'm a hypocrite then, considering my thoughts back with that old bastard, Olbart. Or maybe I've already changed in ways I didn't realize... oh well.
Gojo suddenly raised his hand, ticking off fingers as he spoke.
"One. No matter what happens, there is no attacking Chaosflame or its people. Zero tolerance."
"Two. I will not be ordered around. Try it, and you won't like the response. Aka, my fist to your face."
"Three. I won't go around killing random people, regardless of whether they're part of this 'revolution' or not. Unless they really deserve it. That'll be judged by me."
He didn't notice the way Yorna looked at him—a mixture of surprise and pride softening her gaze.
After Gojo made his conditions clear, silence hung in the air for a long moment.
Then, Berstetz smiled. It was a polite, chilling smile, but it was an agreement nonetheless.
"Very well, Satoru Gojo. I accept your conditions."
—————————————————————————
Natsuki Subaru looked around with genuine interest at the new environment he found himself in.
It was similar to the military encampment in its ruggedness, but the atmosphere was entirely different. Instead of regimented tents and soldiers polishing armor, he saw wooden huts of varying sizes built into the trees and earth. Dozens of dark-skinned, Amazonian women moved about, their gazes locking onto him with intense curiosity.
So, a tribe.
Their looks weren't malicious, exactly. But Subaru couldn't help but feel strangely unsettled. The way they watched him wasn't just curiosity; it was assessment. Like they were weighing him on a scale he couldn't see.
He couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for Todd. The orange-haired soldier had been so kind, so welcoming despite the chaos. He had been searching for the "People of Shudraq" for reasons Subaru still didn't know, yet he had missed them entirely while Subaru stumbled right into their heart.
I hope he's okay, I don't know when he vanished during the attack, but I hope he made it out. He's the closest thing to a friend I've found in this mess.
"So, this is where the big royal has been biding his time, huh?" Subaru chimed up, addressing the black-haired, masked man walking ahead of him. "Definitely the last place I would've expected."
As prideful as he was, Abel didn't ignore him. He glanced back over his shoulder, his masked gaze sharp.
"Indeed. That was precisely my intention. Very well deduced."
Subaru raised a brow, huffing a laugh.
"I can't help but feel like that's sarcasm, you know? I mean, I can't really imagine you giving a genuine compliment without choking on it."
With a scoff, Abel averted his gaze back to the trail.
Subaru didn't want to walk in silence. He sped up his pace until he was walking alongside the masked man, Louis trotting faithfully at his heels.
"Though, I'm surprised you managed to convince these people to attack the military camp. That was a suicide mission on paper. Being an outsider, how did you get them to listen?"
Abel simply shrugged, the motion elegant despite his rugged attire.
"Me, an outsider? Laughable. But I suppose your jesting has some logic to it. These people respect warriors above all else. Although direct combat is not my forte, I managed to gain their respect—and a single wish—via the Lifeblood Ritual."
Subaru raised a brow at the unfamiliar term.
"'Lifeblood Ritual'?"
"It is a custom of the Shudraq, who place absolute value on pride and commitment," Abel explained swiftly. "As I said, it was unfortunate for me. The ritual demanded a test of might: slaying a Witchbeast in single combat."
Subaru blinked, genuinely surprised.
He had taken Abel for a strategist, a man who moved pieces on a board rather than swinging a sword. He had a blade on his hip, sure, but Subaru had assumed it was for show—a prop to maintain his regal aura.
He couldn't imagine Abel taking down an Elgina in a one-on-one at all, quite frankly.
"And you... actually killed it?"
"Hmph. Fool." Abel's voice dripped with disdain. "Your inability to see past the surface level is tiresome. Although I may be incomparable to your brute strength, I have my ways. Slaying a mindless beast like that isn't beyond the scope of imagination for me. Think little of it."
Subaru placed a hand over his heart, clutching the fabric of his outfit dramatically. He swayed on his feet, feigning a swoon just to annoy the masked man.
"Is the Emperor of Vollachia a tsundere or something?! You treat me like dirt, then use your one wish from the Shudraq to attack a military camp just to save me?! My heart can't take the mixed signals!"
Abel scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive.
"You speak in riddles I cannot decipher, yet I find myself unsettled by them regardless. Do not flatter yourself. The attack served a dual purpose: eliminating a strategic threat and retrieving a valuable asset. Namely, you."
He glanced at Subaru, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Although, I still cannot comprehend why you remained there. You possess the strength to leave whenever you desired. Why stay in a cage when you hold the key?"
Subaru shrugged. "Free food. And the company wasn't terrible, for the most part that is. Until the snakes showed up, anyway."
"Hmph."
Before Abel could retort, a feminine voice erupted from behind them.
"Oh, don't listen to him. Abel can't help but make up excuses to retrieve his favorites. Not that I mind, especially when the 'asset' is so handsome~ I can definitely see some muscles hiding under that outfit of yours!"
Mizelda, the chieftain of the Shudraq, strode up beside them. She grinned, her gaze raking over Subaru with an appreciation that threw him for a loop.
"Yeah, uh... thanks, I guess?" Subaru scratched his cheek in confusion, "Definitely a textbook case of tsunderism from him, though. How unfortunate. But regardless of that... you're acting completely different from the last time we met."
"Well, circumstances change," Mizelda said with a casual shrug. "Back then, you were threatening my sister. Now, you're an ally. We Shudraq don't hold grudges once a debt is settled."
Subaru nodded slowly. He didn't dislike her. In fact, he respected her directness.
Though... that's a lot to get over.
The phantom pain of his last death still throbbed in his neck. Being shot by Taritta's poison arrow had been agonizing—— the worst death he had experienced, and it wasn't really close. The sensation of his veins burning, his body seizing up... it wasn't something he could just forget.
He didn't want to hold it against the purple-haired girl. She assumed she had her reasons. But forgiveness didn't erase the trauma.
"Speaking of which..." Subaru looked around. "Where is your sister, anyway? She walked back with us, but she must have vanished while I wasn't paying attention."
Mizelda tapped her chin thoughtfully.
"I'm not too sure. She slipped away without explaining much. But knowing Taritta, she's probably brooding somewhere. She'll be back soon enough."
Subaru shrugged, dismissing the topic of Taritta's disappearance. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the masked man.
"Regardless of that... I thought we were heading to that city... 'Guaral,' right? What's with the detour?"
Abel didn't answer immediately. He stopped in front of one of the larger wooden structures, waiting as a tribe member opened the door for them.
Inside, Mizelda settled into a chair carved from a tree trunk, crossing her arms with an air of authority. Abel took the seat opposite her, his posture rigid and regal. Subaru opted to remain standing, leaning against a support beam.
"I said I required the assistance of the Shudraq, did I not?" Abel asked, his voice calm. "Did you presume I was lying, or did you simply forget?"
"Ehh? Do you not think I'm capable enough to handle it with just the two of us?" Subaru pouted, flexing a bicep. "I took down those Elginas pretty easily, you know~"
Abel sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation.
"From what I have seen of you thus far, no. I do not. I am certain you possess tricks you are keeping secret, and I will not pry into their nature. However, based on my current knowledge, I cannot say with confidence that you could take a fortified city alone."
Subaru frowned.
In all honesty, he wasn't sure how a siege would go down. He wasn't planning on destroying the entire city—that was Reinhard-level destruction, and he wasn't remotely there yet. But against regular soldiers?
He had Cursed Energy. They had steel. It was like bringing a tank to a knife fight. He was confident he could take down hundreds of them without breaking much of a sweat.
So why is he hesitating?
"The reason for my caution is simple," Abel continued, cutting through Subaru's thoughts. "There is a possibility—however small—that a Divine General could be stationed there. If that is the case, our timing would be... unfortunate."
Subaru tilted his head.
"Divine General... I think I you said something about that before, but..."
Abel nodded.
"As I stated before, they are the pinnacle of Vollachia's military might. Beings of immense power who are notoriously difficult to control. They number nine in total. Starting from the Ninth: Madelyn Eschart. Moguro Hagane. Yorna Mishigure. Groovy Gumlet. Goz Ralfon. Chisha Gold. Olbart Dunkelkenn. And Arakiya..."
Subaru stopped counting on his fingers. He blinked.
"Uh, that makes eight..." he muttered.
Abel frowned, his eyes narrowing behind the mask.
"Yes. Unfortunately, it should go without saying, but your ignorance of this world continues to stun me. So, I shall make it simple for you."
Abel shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried the weight of a death sentence.
"If he—The Blue Lightning—is at Guaral... then fate never intended for us to take that city in the first place."
"That is pretty unsettling, hearing it from someone as prideful as you," Subaru admitted, a cold knot forming in his stomach. "So, the most accurate comparison would be... the Divine Generals are like Reinhard and Julius?"
Subaru's brows furrowed.
He, perhaps more than anyone else in this world, knew the absurdity of Reinhard van Astrea's power. It was a strength that defied logic, a power that could not be overcome, only survived.
From everyone he had met, only Reid Astrea—the first Sword Saint—had given off a similar vibe of absolute, insurmountable strength.
Just the implication that there was someone in this Empire who could rival Reinhard sent a chill down Subaru's spine.
His hands began to tremble, a reflex born of eighty deaths by the Dragon Sword Reid.
Another Reinhard...?
The thought brought a wave of despair so potent it nearly buckled his knees.
"That can't be right though..." Subaru whispered, his voice tight. "Someone like Reinhard... he can't be matched. Strength-wise, he's a walking cheat code..."
"I am afraid that is not so," Abel replied, his tone final.
"So... beyond Arakiya in second place... all that's left is..."
"——Cecilus Segmunt."
Subaru understood that it was a name. But the way Abel said it made it sound like a natural disaster.
"The Blue Lightning of Vollachia. The First Rank. He is a swordsman of the highest class, ranked alongside the Sword Saint of Lugunica, the Admirer of Kararagi, and the Mad Prince of Gusteko."
Abel crossed his arms, his jaw tightening.
"Cecilus Segmunt is the strongest man in the Empire. He is the Emperor's sword. And if you antagonize him... even you would lose your head before you could muster a thought."
Subaru felt the blood drain from his face.
Cecilus Segmunt.
If such a person existed—if there was another monster on Reinhard's level waiting for them in Guaral—then this wasn't a rebellion.
It was a suicide mission.