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IS IT WRONG TO TRY TO PICK UP GIRLS IN A DUNGEON?
FAMILIA CHRONCLE: Episode Freya
FUJINO OMORI
Translation by Dale DeLucia
Cover art by nilitsu
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,
living or dead, is coincidental.
DUNGEON NI DEAI WO MOTOMERU NO WA
MACHIGATTEIRUDAROUKA
FAMILIA CHRONICLE episode FREYA
Copyright © 2019 Fujino Omori
Illustrations copyright © 2019 nilitsu
Original Character Design © Suzuhito Yasuda
All rights reserved.
Original Japanese edition published in 2019 by SB Creative Corp.
This English edition is published by arrangement with SB Creative
Corp., Tokyo in care of Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.
English translation © 2020 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of
copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and
artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without
permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you

9|Page
would like permission to use material from the book (other than for
review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your
support of the author’s rights.
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First Yen On Edition: November 2020
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The Yen On name and logo are trademarks of Yen Press, LLC.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that
are not owned by the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Ōmori, Fujino, author. | Nilitsu, illustrator. | Yasuda,
Suzuhito, designer. | DeLucia, Dale,translator.
Title: Is it wrong to try to pick up girls in a dungeon? familia
chronicle episode Freya / Fujino Omori ; illustration by Nilitsu ;
character design by Suzuhito Yasuda ; translation by Dale
DeLucia.
Other titles: Dungeon ni deai wo motomeru no wa
machigatteirudarouka familia chronicle episode Freya.
English | Episode Freya

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 Description: First Yen On edition. | New York : Yen On, June 2018.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018006599 | ISBN 9780316448253 (v. 1 :
paperback) | ISBN 9781975327552 (v. 2 : paperback)
Subjects: | CYAC: Fantasy. | Kidnapping—Fiction. | Adventure and
adventurers—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.O54 It 2018 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018006599
ISBNs: 978-1-9753-2755-2 (paperback)
978-1-9753-1825-3 (ebook)
E3-20201003-JV-NF-ORI

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“I wonder where my Odr is.”

—Here we go again.
Ottar was struck by an impulse to cover his face with his boulder-like
hand.
“Hey, Ottar…”
“You mustn’t.”
“…I didn’t even say anything yet.”
“You cannot go.”
In his usual overbearing way, Ottar admonished his patron goddess,
Freya, who was pouting like a moody child.
They were on the top floor of Babel, the looming tower at the center
of the Labyrinth City, Orario.
This one-of-a-kind space was a physical manifestation of the special
privileges granted to the patron goddess of the familia that reigned
at the top of the city. The giant, flawless glass window that looked
out over the metropolis below; an entire wall devoted to elegant
bookshelves that were filled to the brim; the plush carpet so thick
that crossing feet sank into it; striking depictions of the sun and
moon; a side table that tastefully evoked the image of an apple tree.
Compared to the conspicuous gaudiness of the avaricious wealthy,
this room was furnished with relatively few items, but the
craftsmanship visible in each and every item was enough to
demonstrate the class of the room’s owner.

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It was here, in the beautiful goddess’s private chambers, that Ottar
was trying to talk some sense into Freya.
“You were about to say that it was time to search for your destiny
again.”
Freya was having another of her fits. The aforementioned Odr was
the companion she was fated to be with one day, and she was
planning to set off on an aimless journey to find them, wherever they
were.
For Ottar and the rest of the familia, Freya was the sole object of
their absolute loyalty, the one they offered all their respect,
veneration, and love to. As far as they were concerned, the idea of
her going on a journey alone was nothing short of sweat inducing. If
even a single scratch were to mar their goddess’s beauty, her
followers would never forgive themselves. If such a thing ever
happened, the members of Freya’s familia were liable to take on
extreme penances, like scarring themselves worse than anything
their goddess suffered as an act of atonement.
In general, they were overly protective, but this attitude was
emblematic of how devoted they were to their goddess and just how
precious they considered her to be.
Ottar’s response was a natural extension of those values.
Normally the shining example of a perfect retainer, Ottar’s response
smacked of a lecture. Freya, reclining in her regal armchair, took
offense and elegantly raised an eyebrow.
“Ottar? When did you learn to speak to me like that?”
“Ordinarily, I would never take such a tone with you, Goddess.
However, I only have your best interests in mind. As your vassals, it is
our job to admonish you if it is necessary for your own safety.”
“…”

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Beneath his almost excessively polite choice of words, Ottar was
trying his best to communicate that Freya should restrain herself in
light of her position as the patron goddess of what was arguably the
city’s most powerful familia. The lack of a rebuttal seemed to
indicate that she found his argument persuasive.
Once in the past, Freya had gone for a stroll in Orario without
bringing along any of her children. While she never went beyond its
walls, she was still out on the streets of one of the world’s largest
metropolises, all alone. Ottar and the others had understandably
panicked and turned the city upside down looking for her. Mistaking
Freya Familia’s mobilization as the prelude to some major operation,
Loki Familia had raised their alertness in response, which ultimately
led to an accidental clash. This racked up tensions between the two
factions and the dispute came very close to escalating into open
warfare.
Incidentally, Freya had tried to play off that disaster with a cute smile
and an “I’m sorry. ♪” (Given her demeanor at the time, it wouldn’t
have been strange if she had giggled and stuck her tongue out to
boot.) For once, Ottar and the other members of Freya Familia could
do nothing but watch as the goddess Loki delivered divine justice to
Freya with an iron fist.
Returning back to the moment at hand, Freya understood that her
current situation was liable to end in a similar fashion, so she reined
herself in and opted to candidly express her displeasure instead. Her
childish outburst was rather charming. This unexpected contrast was
a perfect example of the “gap appeal” that many deities often spoke
of. The sight of Freya pouting like a little girl was so bewitching that it
wouldn’t have been strange if Ottar fell to his knees on the spot.
However, he was certain that if a burly man such as himself openly
reacted that way, he would be called out for being creepy. Fully

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aware of what was at stake, Ottar somehow managed to maintain
control by sheer force of will.
“How is it that you can spend so much time by my side and still not
understand how I feel?”
“…I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me. If you ask for anything
else, we will gladly do it for you, even if it costs us our lives…”
“You’re trying to keep me locked in a gilded cage, just like the foolish
gods who tried to keep me cloistered up in the heavens.”
She refused Ottar’s attempts to placate her and completely
abandoned her usual sublime bearing, behaving like a fickle sprite.
Turning away from him, she swept a dismissive hand to the side.
“Leave me.”
The enchanting goddess of beauty could never be satisfied with just
one love. Not even countless loves could ever be enough. At a
glance, her amorous nature appeared to simply be outrageous and
immoral. However, that was merely by the standards of mortals. As a
deity, there was probably nothing insincere about her feelings.
Ottar had a faint sense of what Freya truly wished for, which made
things complicated for him. While he could understand what it was
she wanted, he had to do whatever he could to stop her from
behaving recklessly. His desire to respect Freya’s will and his concern
for her safety were at odds with each other.
“…”
At times like this, the expression that often crossed Ottar’s face
betrayed his utter loss at how to respond. If anyone watching were
asked to share their impression of what this warrior was feeling, it
would definitely be described as sorrow.
The young girls working as attendants were getting worked up in the
corner of the room, looking to Ottar for cues on how to proceed.

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One of the boar’s ears on top of Ottar’s head bent over, as if to drive
home the fact that he had no idea what to do next.

Later that day, as the flood of light and the bustling chatter of the
sleepless Labyrinth City filled the night air, several figures gathered
around a giant round table. This meeting was not taking place on the
top floor of Babel nor was it some nondescript bar on the outskirts of
the city. It was inside Freya Familia’s home, Folkvangr, located in the
city’s fifth district. They were in a conference room where only the
top members of the familia were allowed to enter.
“What’s this about, Ottar?”
Allen Fromel, a cat person sitting at the table, was the first to open
his mouth. Though he was only one hundred sixty celch tall, his gaze
was piercing, so sharp that it caused others to shrink back. His very
presence seemed violent, as if he might snap at any moment. The
black fur and blue eyes he sported would have normally been
considered quite handsome if not for how dangerous he seemed. He
was a Level 6, a first-tier adventurer known as Vana Freya—Freya’s
Chariot, a paragon of Orario whose name rang out far beyond the
confine of the city walls.
“How long has it been since the last emergency assembly?”
“The all-out war with the Evils, wasn’t it?”
“Then this must be for a battlefield to match that.”
“Should we ready our weapons?”
The same voice ringing out four different times came from the
quadruplet prums sitting across from Allen. They were the Gulliver
brothers, first-tier adventurers of Freya Familia often mentioned in
the same breath as Vana Freya. The four of them were known
collectively by the title Bringar, the Four Knights of the Golden

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Flame. As Level 5s, their teamwork was indisputably the best in the
Labyrinth City, and they were powerful enough to overcome the
physical disadvantage of being prums. Naturally, their features were
identical. The only visible difference between them was the slightest
variance in eye color. From the right, starting with the eldest, they
were Alfrik, Dvalinn, Berling, and Grer.
“The harbinger is upon us, the horn of demise signaling the twilight
of Orario…a great war embroiling all the familia comes…M-my arm
trembles…Heh. Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee…”
“Don’t force yourself to speak, Hegni.”
The dark elf’s lips twisted into an ominous grin marred by spasms
that only aggravated his struggle to string words together. The one
chiding him like this was a regular occurrence was a white elf. The
elven duo, Hegni and Hedin, was often considered a pair even
though they were not related by blood. Their full names were Hegni
Ragnar and Hedin Selrand. The former had dark sable skin and silver
hair that was almost a pale purple, while the latter had white, nearly
translucent skin, and golden hair flowing down his back. They were
both Level 6, first-tier adventurers, and they were both magic
swordsmen who wielded powerful magic and their weapons with
equal amounts of skill. The titles they were granted by the gods were
Dáinsleif and Hildsleif respectively. Together, they were known as
the black and white knights.
The people currently assembled at this round table were Freya
Familia’s pride as well as their greatest assets in battle.
“The reason I summoned you all is…Lady Freya.”
Looking around the table, Ottar’s solemn voice rang out as he got
right to the point and raised the topic at hand. In other words, how
to control Freya’s urge that had reared its head yet again.
“…So that’s what it is.”

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Immediately, Allen and the others fell silent as everyone present
assumed rather serious expressions.
“In that case, I understand why we were all called.”
“It was fairly touch and go last time…We were right on the verge of a
direct confrontation with Loki Familia.”
“Yeah, we nearly killed Nine Hell.”
“Wait, I thought the real issue was that we had pissed off all the
elves, even the ones outside Loki Familia, and barely managed to
escape their wrath.”
“““Shut up, Alfrik.”””
While the elder brother bore the full annoyance of the other three
Gulliver brothers for pointing out an inconsistency in their stories,
Allen glared at Ottar.
“I said it before, didn’t I? We’ve given her far too much freedom.
Who cares if she’s passionate or whatever? We should force her to
behave a bit more like a proper patron deity. Even if that means
locking her away in a cage.”
“—Watch your mouth, filthy cat.”
“A stray like you has no right to infringe upon our goddess’s
freedom.”
The Gulliver brothers had instantly put their bickering aside to
confront Allen for his comment, but he refused to back down,
spitting back with venom in response to the four sets of murderous
eyes now trained on him.
“A bunch of nobody prums who can’t do shit by themselves
shouldn’t be so cocky.”

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“Heh…Hee-hee…Now is the time for ones such as I, who have
surpassed savage valor, to show their devotion…No one can match
my zeal, and of course that includes you worthless rabble…”
“I said quit talking already, Hegni.”
With even the dark elf Hegni joining in, the meeting was quickly
spiraling out of control. Hedin’s heavy sigh went unheard as the
hostile atmosphere thickened around the round table. The
leadership of Freya Familia, or rather all of Freya’s children, did not
have particularly good relations with one another. In fact, the
majority was often at one another’s throats. The only one they had
sworn loyalty to was Freya. And the only thing they desired was her
favor. The other followers with whom she had shared her ichor were
nothing more than obstacles to be kicked aside. In order to
demonstrate who was more deserving of her love, they held death
matches masquerading as training every day.
Despite knowing that was happening, instead of putting a stop to it,
Freya would simply smile and say, “You get along well, don’t you?”
But that severe internal rivalry was the secret behind the dominance
of the city’s strongest faction. The ceaseless competition that cast
aside cheap platitudes like “working together to grow and mature”
was what enabled them to reach ever greater heights at a speed that
no one else in the city could match. And they did all of it in order to
court their goddess’s love. Freya’s charisma and divinity were what
drove them.
Theirs was a strength born of refusing to pay any heed to their
comrades, the polar opposite of Loki Familia, led by Braver and other
adventurers who banded together to reach their true potential.
On one side was an assembly of powerful individuals who constantly
probed one another to maintain their keen edge. On the other was
an organization of like-minded allies who cooperated closely to cover

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one another’s weaknesses. That was the most fitting description of
the two familias at the top of all Orario.
“Starting another unsightly quarrel won’t solve anything. Whatever
we do, we should do it quickly…”
Hedin pointed out the meeting’s lack of progress in the hopes of
making some headway.
Unable to dispute the elf so handsome that even deities admired him
for it, Allen and the others scoffed as Ottar nodded and returned to
the original topic.
“Restraining Lady Freya…will not be an option this time, either.
Indeed, if we snatch away her freedom, it will only cause an even
more severe outburst later. The best we can do is to protect her
from the shadows.”
Everyone’s eyes lit up at Ottar’s grave tone. They were all glaring,
intent on keeping one another in check. The meeting had shifted to
the next dispute on the docket: Of all the first-tier adventurers in the
familia, who was best suited to protect Freya?
“I’ll go with her. I’m her chariot.” Allen was the first to speak up.
“Heh.” One of the prums immediately sneered at his response.
“—Which of you assholes laughed?”
The cat person exploded with murderous rage in the blink of an eye
as the Gulliver brothers openly ridiculed him.
“A cat pulling a chariot? Don’t make me laugh.”
“Hey, we won’t get anywhere this way, so drop it, Dvalinn.”
“Quit pulling chariots and just go plow the fields already, livestock.”
“Listen to me, Berling.”

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“Filthy cat, rutting just because our goddess scratched your chin
once or twice.”
“I said stop already, Grer!”
“““This is why pets like you are so worthless!”””
“Stop this!!!”
—More accurately, only three of the Gulliver brothers were mocking
Allen. The eldest was desperately trying to hold them back.
Alfrik Gulliver was the most worldly of the four brothers. Though he
was older than his siblings by only a few moments, the role of reining
in his unruly brothers often fell to him.
Even as it became clear that Alfrik was on the verge of tears from
yelling, no one at the table seemed inclined to help. As far as the rest
of them were concerned, they considered this business as usual.
The situation was deteriorating and only getting more explosive by
the minute, which prompted Ottar to speak once more in a heavy
tone.
“…As I suspected, I’m the one who should go with her.”
“““Huh?”””
In an instant, the air around the table froze. As if they moved with
the will of one mind, every single person around the table glared at
Ottar.
“Know your place, boar. Bold of you to propose standing next to our
goddess with that enormous head of yours.”
“Besides, how exactly are you planning to sneak around with that
huge body of yours, meathead?”
“You’ll just make her uncomfortable, meathead.”
“Have some shame, meathead.”

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“The only joke you should stick to is that ridiculous thing you call a
body, meathead.”
“Hee-hee-hee…M-meathead.”
“You really are quite the disappointment, Hegni. That said, you are a
meathead, Ottar.”
“……”
Unsurprisingly, Allen and the rest were quite unhappy with the boaz
adventurer entrusted with serving as Freya’s retainer.
Ottar’s face went blank as he fell silent, mercilessly berated from all
sides by his heartless comrades. It wasn’t because he was the head
of the familia and believed that he should be where the buck
stopped when the familia members complained. No, even Ottar
could get angry and had limits to his patience. He wasn’t that
tolerant. However, he recognized that as a simple warrior, he could
not win against them with his words. In other words, what he
needed in order to silence them was—his fists.
He exchanged gazes with each and every one of them.
Even when empty, a first-tier adventurer’s fist could easily be
considered a lethal weapon, and Ottar’s cracked as he clenched it.
Right when it seemed like the tension was about to snap, Helen
entered the room.
“Umm…Lady Freya has left behind a letter and gone out…”
“““What?!”””
Ottar and the others all swung around to focus on Freya’s lady-in-
waiting. They all froze, wide-eyed, like statues.
—This bunch is beyond help.
Helen’s eyes stared off into the distance as that single thought
crossed her mind.

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“It should be fine as long as I don’t cause a fuss inside Orario, right?”
Freya, would-be queen, spoke to no one in particular as she stood
outside the giant walls enclosing the Labyrinth City.
She realized her excuse was nothing but exploiting a technicality, but
that was hardly enough to stop the capricious goddess from going
where her whims took her.
Just a few scant hours ago, the goddess had quietly forced her way
into the Guild chief’s office. The head of operations, Royman
Mardeel, was understandably flustered by her sudden appearance as
she approached him with a seductive look. Once an enamored
expression appeared on his face, Freya struck.
“—You don’t want me to tell Ouranos the secret you’ve been
keeping, do you?”
Royman turned deathly pale, and Freya smiled broadly as she
whispered a proposition. “If you find it agreeable, we could just say
that I enthralled you and made you let me out of the city.”
As she stood there with a smile that would captivate any victim, she
was without a doubt the epitome of an enchantress. She was like the
wind itself, slipping through any and every crack in the city, and even
the highest-ranking official’s secrets were not safe.
The Guild chief customarily forbade familias from leaving the city, let
alone their deities, but Freya’s ultimatum left him little choice. In the
end, he caved in to her request and allowed her to depart.
“It’s rather refreshing to see the outside world like this…” She
laughed to herself quietly. “…Or perhaps it’s simply the building
anticipation that I’m feeling.”
A sea of grassland plains spread out before Freya. All along the road
paved with white stone stretching into the distance like a bridge, the

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smell of fresh blossoms and flower petals dancing in the air seemed
to greet her. Spring was in full swing. Freya was certain the goddess
of this gentle season was surely in a good mood and blessing her trip.
“East, west, north, or south?…You there, which direction do you
think would be best?” Freya called out to a group of people on their
way to the city.
The goddess was sensibly wearing a robe with the hood pulled up to
conceal her identity. Passing her by was a traveling merchant with a
horse-drawn cart, some travelers in road-worn clothes, and a demi-
human bard. Staggered by the goddess’s beauty that was apparent
even when obscured, they each pointed in the direction they
recommended.
The Beor Mountain Range to the north.
“—If you pass through the rugged valleys, there is a hidden lake as
beautiful as any in the Dungeon.”
The saltwater lakes leading to the ocean to the west.
“—This time of year, you should be able to see a sight that can’t be
found anywhere else in the world: waterfalls rising up into the sky.”
The stretch of land that led to the center of the continent to the east.
“—You will be greeted by the wondrous bazaars that have thrived
from trade that spills out from the Silken Road.”
The unexplored expanses that had not yet been fully mapped to the
south.
“—The remnants and ruins lost to the passage of time will surely
show you something that has never been seen in this lifetime.”
Freya smiled faintly as the children of the mortal plane sung the
praises of each respective direction, like odes in honor of a goddess.
Her eyes narrowed bewitchingly as she looked out at the scene
unfolding before her.

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“Now then, where could my Odr be waiting for me?”

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The ship flew over the “sea.” There were two tall masts thrust into
the air and large white sails opened wide to catch the westerly wind.
The ship itself was a mix of wood and metal, large enough to easily
carry more than fifty crew and passengers. This vessel cut a
dauntless figure as it sailed, its prow slicing through the swells in its
way.
However, the ship was not sailing across a blue ocean but atop a sea
of sand.
“Crossing the desert on a ship seems more eccentric than
groundbreaking,” Freya commented as glaring sunlight beat down on
her. Not even the hottest days Orario had ever seen were
comparable.
She stood atop the deck of the ship, balancing herself against the
railing and staring off into the vast expanse of the desert. To the
average observer, there weren’t many scenes odder than what
looked like a proper seagoing vessel crossing the desert dunes
instead.
“Still, it’s certainly a part of this world that I didn’t know about.
Perhaps heading in this direction was the correct choice.”
Freya smiled with her eyes as the bone-dry wind whipped past her.
Her journey had started at Orario, once called the edge of the world
for its location on the western fringes of the continent. After she
departed from the city, she headed southeast in search of unknown
lands she had never visited before. The first notable sight she
encountered was an expanse of sand that reached past the horizon
in every direction.
This was the Grand Sand Sea, which was as about as far removed
from the deep blue as a place could be. It was also known as the

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Kaios Desert, an arid region located to the southwest of the center of
the continent, where so many countries were clustered.
“Ottar and the others have brought back all sorts of items from Sand
Land and the like, but…it really is another thing altogether to
experience it myself.”
Towering dunes spanned a great distance, like a mountain chain that
continued for as far as the eye could see. A never-ending carpet of
sand and wisps of gritty clouds wafting into the blue sky. Was the
hamada swaying at the distant edges of her vision a mirage or just a
product of heat haze? When she managed to put the oppressive
temperature and desiccating atmosphere out of her mind, the sights
were stunning. Looking out at the majestic world of sand from the
view atop a ship was what let her smile at it.
An attendant with a veil covering the lower part of her face
approached the goddess and suggested she retire to a room inside
the ship, but Freya refused with a raised hand.
Seeing that, a man approached her.
“Is the desert cruise to your liking, Lady Freya?”
He was a stoutly built human. The arrangements for the trip aboard
this ship were thanks to him.
“It’s quite stimulating. Never before had I imagined something like
this was awaiting me outside of Orario,” she responded frankly.
“Splendid! It is an honor that a no-name merchant such as I, Bofman
Fazoul, can be of service to a goddess! Should you desire anything
during your journey, don’t hesitate to let me know!” The merchant
finished with a slick salesman smile.
His name and body shape were reminiscent of the Guild chief,
Royman, but Bofman was taller and broader. The black beard and

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tanned skin combined with the turban atop his head gave him the air
of a true resident of the desert.
“Truly, it is a blessing from the heavens to even meet the Lady Freya,
whose power and jewellike beauty is praised throughout the mortal
realm. A chance to accompany you like this cannot be anything but a
stroke of good fortune! Surely the patron god of merchants smiles
upon me!”
Perhaps he intended it as flattery, but Freya was struggling not to
laugh at Bofman’s bombastic, colorful speech. After all, when it came
to gods in Orario who were most often associated with merchants,
the first one who came to mind was Hermes with his shady grin.
Moreover, Bofman called himself Freya’s companion, but it was not
like Freya had gone out of her way to employ him as a guide or
anything. She had simply met him in a town right before crossing the
Kaios Desert.
Upon entering a tavern, Bofman had noticed Freya’s peerless beauty
peeking out from beneath her hood and could barely contain his
interest. Once she had revealed her identity, he leaped at the chance
to volunteer himself as a guide for Freya’s journey that had no
specific location in mind, free of charge. Of all the merchants there
who had offered their services, he had simply been the fastest.
All of that just so he could have the honor of assisting Freya on her
travels, probably in the hope that he could earn a favor from Freya
Familia while also making sure that the Goddess of Beauty, Freya,
remembered his name. To a merchant, such an achievement was no
different from earning an immense profit. Connections with a
powerful familia were profitable in all sorts of situations, ranging
from the obvious—like selling supplies, equipment, weapons, and
the like—to being able to call upon them to deal with dangerous or
difficult jobs. “Better to join hands with a powerful familia than weak
royalty or nobles any day of the week” was a well-known saying

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among merchants. And when the familia in question happened to be
arguably the most powerful faction in the city hailed as the center of
the world, then the return from that connection might well be
considered immeasurable.
The costs of an aimless journey were a cheap price to pay if it meant
building a relationship with Freya. It was a sign of how far Freya’s
reputation had spread to the rest of the world when even a lowly
merchant like Bofman flew into a frenzy at the sight of her.
“Bofman, I came here to escape boredom, and I chose you because
of your talents. Since you’ve accepted the job, I expect you to
provide an experience that can satisfy a goddess’s ego.”
“But of course, Lady Freya! Leave it to the great merchant Bofman,
who has crossed this desert countless times!”
“First of all, I’d like to go someplace where the children gather.”
“Leave it to me! Hee-ho-ho!”
Setting aside his penchant for boasts, Freya recognized that Bofman
was actually a skilled merchant. That said, the way he spoke and
laughed annoyed her from time to time.
But in any case, Freya allowed herself a bit of anticipation for what
was to come. A smile unlike that of the queen of Orario crept across
her face as she enjoyed the scenery of the desert without pretense.
The goddess of beauty’s smile, tinged with a hint of childlike
innocence, left Bofman and the attendant beside Freya stunned,
entrancing them both.
“That reminds me…Was this ship made in Altena?” Freya suddenly
asked.
“Huh? Ah, yes, yes it was!” Bofman’s voice was a whole pitch higher
than normal as he snapped back to his senses. “It is called a desert
ship! Altena recently started selling them here in the Kaios Desert!”

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He made the declaration proudly as the speeding ship raised sand
clouds in its wake.
Alongside Orario, the magic country of Altena was considered
another major global power and this ship was effectively a giant
magic item that had been manufactured within its borders. Produced
from the dedicated work of dozens of mages, it was the world’s first
desert-sailing ship.
“What powers the ship? With how many dunes there are, it can’t
possibly be driven by wind alone, yes?” Freya asked as the ship
crested over another dune.
Unlike a normal ship that was propelled by wind and currents, this
vessel had to operate on different principles. Bofman pointed down
below the deck.
“It uses magic. Over thirty slaves are held at the bottom of the ship.
The ship is able to sail thanks to the power they provide. Controlling
a ship with magic is rather fitting for Altena, wouldn’t you say?”
According to further explanation, there were apparently several
crystal orbs positioned on the bottom of the ship that were designed
to absorb magical energy when hands were placed on the orb. A
magianaus—a magic ship rather than a military trireme powered by
oars.
I see. That is rather like Altena, Freya thought.
Altena was a country with a fundamental belief in the supremacy of
magic. They had an elitist bent toward mages and the like and the
citizens of Altena could readily be seen saying “Magic is everything”
with straight faces.
Between the thousands of people making a living thanks to magic, it
was plausible a significant proportion of residents were elves—that
was why they were hostile toward Orario and its powerful mages…

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Those without magic are not qualified to control this ship. The voice
of Altena’s magic supremacy could almost be heard emanating from
the ship.
“It seems we should be wary of Altena…”
Recently, the magic-stone-based items that were the pride of
Orario’s economy were being exported to the rest of the mortal
realm. It was common knowledge that they were the most used
tools due to their utility, but this desert ship was an amazing
development as well. Because it could not operate without magic
power, it was not a product that could be used by the masses, but at
the very least it had the potential to power a new method of
commerce in the desert regions. Altena and the other countries and
cities around the continent were serious about not letting the
Labyrinth City have a monopoly on all the good ideas.
However, for the slaves used to run it, life was just as harsh as ever.
Even if a revolutionary new magic item was developed, even if they
did not have to row the oars, they were still exploited and drained of
magic in order to power the vessel.
“Does your firm also handle slaves?” Freya asked. She was a goddess,
but she had no intention of declaring it inhumane.
“We do, though it would perhaps be most accurate to say that all of
the Kaios Desert region does. Unlike Orario, where you’ve
established your castle, this land is barren, a harsh world of sand
where the institution of slavery is accepted,” Bofman responded
carefully, explaining the system of slavery they had developed, which
was not present in Orario.
There were several areas in the mortal realm where slavery existed,
even outside the Kaios Desert. In fact Orario, which was hailed as the
capital of adventurers, was considered the exception for its complete
lack of a slave market. While it was true that the Guild maintaining

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the familia system imposed more structure and regulations on its
residents than other countries and cities did, the biggest reason for
the lack of slavery surely lay in the intent of Ouranos and the other
deities who worked with him. They were trying to build a promised
land where a hero would be born, so they rejected what they
considered to be a heretical system.
“I didn’t really ask before, but your company is mostly a trading
company, isn’t it?”
“As expected, Lady Freya! I underestimated your all-seeing eyes! You
are correct. We immediately purchased a desert ship when it
became available and handle a portion of the trade routes that cross
the desert!”
She had just asked on a whim, but that was all the encouragement
Bofman needed to start a heated explanation.
“Even as large as the Kaios Desert is, the number of firms with a
desert ship can be counted on one hand! The Fazoul Trading
Company is truly the most suited for ensuring you the perfect
journey!”
Freya could easily tell that Bofman was boasting as he rubbed his
hands together enough to wear away his fingerprints, but she could
also tell that it was not a lie, either. Even looking out into the
distance, there was not another desert ship to be seen anywhere in
the sand, which reached all the way to the horizon. A traveling
merchant train on camels fading into a dot in the distance was all
there was. Those who owned a desert ship like the one she was
riding were surely rare. And when it came to trade, while a ship
sailing the sand certainly evoked a certain sense of oddity, it was
entirely reasonable when imagining the desert as a sea. Considering
how valuable sea routes were for trade, and considering the fact that
cargo ships able to carry large amounts of goods were often the
most favored, it was reasonable that someone who owned a ship

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that could sail the sands would be successful. History told the tale of
how important ships were to commerce, so a desert ship to cross the
Great Sand Sea was certainly well suited for that task.
On that point, Bofman could certainly be called an influential
merchant.
“And I must say, the clothes I prepared for your journey suit you
quite well.”
However, he talked too much, and his constant patronizing tone was
also quite off-putting. Slightly fed up with him, Freya looked down at
herself. She was wearing a short white dress, a red hood to avoid the
sun, and a matching red waistcloth paired with a sheer black skirt
that enticingly veiled her legs. All the pieces were decorated and
held in place by various rings.
The outfit was sort of understandable for both dealing with the
brutal sun beating down on them while staying cool, but she could
just wear a cloak for that. And as an eternal, unchanging deity,
getting sunburned was of no concern.
The new clothes she had acquired for the long journey had also been
provided by Bofman. From the outset, members of the crew were
constantly mesmerized by the alluring figure of the goddess atop the
deck. That was to be expected to some extent, since it was the
goddess Freya standing there after all, but she was still a little bit
concerned that it might be impacting the ship’s navigation.
“Gee-hee-hee…”
The other concern was Bofman, who could not restrain his lustful
gaze. The merchant certainly appeared extremely rational and
composed, but his sticky gaze crawled over every inch of Freya’s
body.
“Hee-hee! Lady Freya, considering how I’m contributing to this by
bearing not insignificant expenses, in the event you are able to

35 | P a g e
achieve your goal with this journey, I’d quite like to ask a favor, if it
pleases you…”
“…”
The merchant was leering at the luscious, otherworldly legs peeking
out from Freya’s skirt. Perhaps because he was true to his desires, he
was filled with motivation in anticipation of getting a little something
for himself. Besides the commercial benefit of pleasing a deity, being
invited to share a bed with a beautiful goddess was both the greatest
privilege as well as the greatest pleasure possible in the world.
Even if it cost him everything, he wanted to experience that one
night’s dream. There was a never-ending supply of people with that
same thought, though. To the goddesses of beauty, shallow people
like that were the most boring of all, and they largely just ignored
them. However…
Avaricious in addition to being lecherous. He has the worst sort of
character, but there is no question he is extremely shrewd…In a way,
he’s the quintessential merchant.
When she saw right through Bofman with her divine sight, Freya felt
the same sort of disinterest as every other goddess. Because she
recognized the appeal of her own body, she did not feel overly
unpleasant to be subjected to such lust-filled gazes. She observed it
with detachment, merely thinking, It’s a good thing Ottar and the
others aren’t around.
If the crusaders who worshipped at the altar of the Goddess Freya—
namely her followers—had been present to see someone acting so
impudently, they would have immediately crushed, pulverized, and
blasted any who dared to gaze at their goddess with such impure
thoughts. Truly, Bofman was lucky.
It was unknown how many times those who had been impolite to
Freya had been discovered having suffered tragic accidents, and it

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would be safe to say that there were none left in Orario who would
behave so insolently.
As a beautiful goddess, annoyance and discomfort were always with
her. And also, other goddesses’ jealousy, other goddesses’ jealousy,
and other goddesses’ jealousy.
Because of that, Freya was well schooled in not letting minor
irritations get to her and revealed no visible signs that she was
dissatisfied with Bofman. She just naturally brushed her hair behind
her ear, and then—
“I can hear something.”
“Huh?”
“It’s not a very pleasant sound, though,” Freya said as she closed her
eyes.
As Bofman stared at her in confusion, the strange noise that only the
goddess could initially hear gradually approached. The roar of the
surf and the cries of seabirds could not be heard on an ocean of
sand. And there was no such thing as rough seas or whirling
maelstroms. There was not even a sandstorm happening, so if there
was a noise shattering the lonely calm of the desert, then it could
only be—
“—GUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
—caused by monsters.
Right in front of the ship, a massive plume of sand blasted into the
air like explosives going off. A giant worm burst out aboveground. Its
skin was a sandy color, and its long body undulated in a way that
evoked a visceral disgust. It did not have anything that could really
be called a face, just a giant round mouth around where its head
would be that was filled with hideous fangs. Raising its upper body
off the ground, it was tall enough to match the desert ship.

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“That’s a…a sand worm?! And it’s a big one!” Bofman exclaimed as
he lost his composure and grabbed onto the side of the boat.
In the ancient times when monsters spread all across the surface
world from the giant hole, their territory encompassed the land, sea,
sky, and everywhere else in the mortal realm. The Kaios Desert was
no exception.
Sand worms moved underground, and when they detected the
presence of prey, they burst out from their hiding places. The
abnormal sound that Freya had heard had been caused by the
monster burrowing its hole.
“T-turn the ship arouuuuuuuund! On the double!” Bofman shouted,
spittle flying from his mouth.
The merchant train riding camels in the distance panicked and was
already fleeing. The human guard on lookout on the deck turned pale
and seemed to be getting ready to use the cannon the ship was
equipped with, or perhaps some kind of magic, but it was already too
late. In response to Bofman’s command, the slaves poured in more
magic in order to speed the ship up, but they wouldn’t be in time,
either.
It was a perfect surprise attack. Their guard had not been diligent
enough. The monster was too close. The worm’s giant mouth was
about to tear into the ship’s mast and smash against the side of the
ship.
And while all this was going on—
“That’s not necessary,” the goddess announced matter-of-factly.
“What?!”
“Unfortunately…”
Freya’s tone was not one of surrender. Instead, as if finishing her
thought for her, the sand worm’s head was blown backward.

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 “Gueeeee?!”
The cries it raised in the throes of death were drowned out by the
sound of a large amount of blood spurting out. A sharp flash of silver
reflected the sun’s light. By the time that flash was visible, it was
already over.
“…………Huh?”
Time froze for Bofman and the rest of the crew. The monster slowly
collapsed in a fountain of gore. Billions of grains of sand shuddered,
unable to bear the load of the giant worm, and began billowing up
into the air, causing a sandstorm as a thud echoed across the desert.
As Bofman and the others stood in shock, Freya finished her
sentence with a smile.
“…it seems like they’ve already caught up to me.”
Inside the swirl of sand, eight different figures were visible: four
small prums, two elves, a warrior with a giant sword on his shoulder,
and the catman who had sent the monster’s head flying back with
such blinding speed.
They were like the classic image of knights arriving to save a goddess
from monsters, a fairy tale come to life.
“…!”
Bofman’s face tensed up as he glanced over at Freya, who was calmly
watching it all without any concern. The lust abruptly drained from
his gaze as he started to tremble in trepidation. He apparently finally
realized exactly who the deity before him was and just what kind of
familia that Vanadis, the Goddess of Love and War, could call upon.
He broke into an intense, uneasy sweat, fearful of being condemned
for the disrespect that he had perpetrated earlier. However, Freya
simply said, “Shall we go?” to the many trembling gazes
accompanying Bofman’s.

39 | P a g e
She nudged the journey back into motion with a light tone. And as
the sailors finally came back to their senses, their shoulders heaved
while they quickly hurried to demonstrate their obedience to the
goddess’s divine will.
The ship left the monster’s corpse in its wake and continued to sail
the sea of sand.
“We finally caught up, huh?”
Allen’s silver spear whistled through the air as he swung it down to
remove the monster’s sticky blood. He was wearing a hooded robe
over his standard equipment. Audible annoyance at the free-spirited
master who was always causing him trouble rose into the air, carried
by the desiccated breeze.
“Let’s go,” Ottar said.
The Gulliver brothers, Hegni and Hedin, and Allen had already
started running on their own, not waiting for his instructions. They
moved so silently and so quickly they seemed to have been erased
from the scene, leaving only footprints and the slightest trace of
unsettled dust in their wake while the members of the merchant
train that had just been starting to flee wondered whether they were
seeing a mirage.
The goddess’s followers chased the ship disappearing into the
distance, determined not to let her escape again.

Freya and the desert ship arrived at the town of Leodo. A town built
around an oasis praised for its clean, refreshing water, it felt almost
like a small island situated in the middle of an endless sea.
A port specially designed for desert ships had been constructed in
the south part of town. By following the three-meder-high wall
surrounding the town that kept out monsters, they arrived at the

40 | P a g e
port. Because it was a sea of sand, there was no lowering of anchors.
The ship was instead fixed to a docking pillar with chains.
Down on the wharf, a scene similar to that of a seaport unfolded at
the large desert port built of stone. Cargo was unloaded from the
surrounding ships and carried away. Because desert ships were so
expensive and rare, there were not many of them, but the mass of
people moving around them did not seem particularly any less busy
than what would be seen in an average port city. Most of the activity
was done by well-built men, though there were many children who
appeared to be pages rushing around, too. In terms of races,
dwarves, who were well suited to heavy manual labor, were
unsurprisingly well represented.
The main difference between this desert mooring and a normal
seaport was the lack of a salt smell and the fact that most people
were not showing much skin in order to avoid the intense sun. Nearly
everyone was wearing clothes that were designed to be breathable
and comfortable.
“It’s a bit late to be commenting on how dry it is,” Freya said as she
climbed down the gangway lowered from the ship and set foot in the
port.
Despite the fact that she was wearing a robe with a hood, there were
still those who caught a glimpse of her and stopped moving, their
attention stolen away by her beauty. Young and old, men and
women alike. Accustomed to such occurrences, Freya easily led
Bofman and his protégés, cutting through the center of the port.
“I’m sure Ottar and the rest have already slipped into the town…”
Freya said to herself, the murmur drowned out by the bustling docks.
“Hmm? I’m sorry, did you say something, Lady Freya?” Bofman
asked.
“It’s nothing,” Freya said, brushing it off.

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Her followers had not shown themselves, but it was entirely
impossible that they would have failed to track the ship, so logic
dictated that they were somewhere nearby, hiding, positioned so
they could immediately react if anything should happen to Freya.
Since she had already gotten this far, and because they did not want
to ruin their beloved mistress’s mood, that was their sign to her that
she should do as she pleases.
She could just imagine Ottar’s brusque face silently nodding and
Hedin closing his eyes and sighing. And Allen would be getting
progressively more annoyed even as he made sure to stay closer to
her than anyone else. Smiling to herself, Freya decided to not hold
back anymore and just follow her whims.
“Bofman, tell me more about this town,” Freya said.
“It could best be described as a merchant town. It is located in the
country of Israfan. Israfan is a country that has grown quite
prosperous from its trade, and Leodo is a town centered around an
oasis close to the country’s border,” Bofman—who was carefully
following two steps back and one to the side of the goddess—
explained as they cut through a section of the warehouses that the
Fazoul Trading Company owned.
The Kaios Desert was split into east and west by the giant Nire River
running through it. And Israfan, the country of merchants, was
located on the western side. In telling the history of the Kaios Desert,
the closer to the great Nire River a country was, the more likely it
was to flourish, and the farther it was, the smaller it was likely to be.
Israfan was one of the latter countries. It was surrounded on all sides
by several different countries in the middle of the western desert.
And the town of Leodo was located near its northern border.
“The town itself is not particularly large, but thanks to the oasis, it is
a place that is easy for people to gather. And on top of that, it is

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almost at the exact center of the western Kaios Desert, so it would
not be hyperbole to say it is a crucial location for trade.”
“So that’s why its port is so well furbished, too?”
“That’s it exactly. Both in terms of the logistics of moving goods
around the surrounding countries and being able to observe the
trends in nearby countries, this town is a crucial base for merchants,
a place that is easy to live in without the risk of losing touch with the
market trends.”
Apparently there were several other towns like this one, but Leodo
was the most convenient of the lot. It was safe and orderly and had
limited exposure to monster attacks. In other words, it was a town
that was blessed by geography and had become rich because of it.
Freya herself could tell that the town was thriving just by the fact
that it had built a desert ship port. That they had recognized the
utility of the Altena-made magic item that had not yet become the
norm for the desert world and invested a significant sum in it made it
clear that the town was an important hub for merchants, just like
Bofman had said.
“And from here, we can easily reach any country in the western
desert, so we should be able to find whatever you are looking for,
Lady Freya—or at least, that was what one such as I was thinking!”
Bofman finished decisively, still intent on earning her favor.
Incidentally, she had not told him anything about what she was
searching for: her fated companion.
While Bofman was acting proud for no particularly obvious reason,
Freya splendidly ignored him, moving forward like the unfettered
breeze. As they emerged from the warehouse district adjacent to the
port, the field of view dramatically opened up.
“Ooooh…a merchant town really is a fitting way to describe it.”

43 | P a g e
What greeted Freya was the bazaar. It was probably the main street,
since the wide avenue was filled to the brim with stalls. There were
humans and demi-humans wearing the same kind of turban as
Bofman, street merchants accepting valis coins and exchanging them
for various products. Luxury goods like carpets and vases, clothes for
crossing the desert, swords and guns and other weapons and gear,
as well as oil and gunpowder. Any- and everything was being sold in
a decidedly organic and unorganized fashion.
In terms of food, there were a variety of freshly made breads and
dried beans as well as all sorts of dried meats. There were several
different kinds of preserved fruits and dates shining like jewels.
Burlap sacks and jars filled to the brim with spices imported from
places outside the desert realm by merchants like Bofman were
flying off the shelves.
There was a veiled elf taking orders, mixing the spices like a magic
powder into a soup filled with dried meat; a prum trying to entice
customers by raising a full ladle from a cooled water pitcher and
sipping at it as if it were the most refreshing thing in the world; and a
teenage beastman barbecuing a fresh fish. Most likely that was
something bred in the giant oasis. As befitting a place called a
merchant town, seemingly no expense had been spared in
developing the local industries.
The ground was a copper color, hardened by the countless people
constantly moving around over it. An Amazon on a camel pushed her
way through the bustling crowd. The buildings on either side of the
street made of sun-dried bricks likely belonged to this or that trading
company. There were also many taverns. One of the round tables
shoved out into the street a bit was surrounded by red-faced
dwarves enjoying a hearty lunchtime drink. The busy street never
seemed to rest.

44 | P a g e
Just like with the sun overhead, there was a different sort of energy
in the air compared with Orario. It was more chaotic, more intense,
and had a wilder, freer feeling to it. At least that was how it felt to
Freya. As she walked along the street, she elegantly looked around,
basking in the unique atmosphere of the desert country.
“The oasis is quite grand as well,” she commented.
Looking straight ahead, the big oasis was visible up ahead at the
center of the city. Beyond the bazaar, what looked like an emerald-
blue lake was visible. On top of that, there was a great deal of
greenery as trees that could usually only be found in the southern
countries were growing around the oasis. And on the island at the
center of the oasis that was connected by a bridge to the rest of the
town, dozens of luxurious buildings lined the streets. Even the
pavement of the roads was different.
And among all that splendor, the most eye-catching thing of all was
surely the giant mansion featuring a majestic dome. It almost looked
like a castle. Its magnificence easily blew any mid-tier familia’s home
out of the water. It was well within the realm of upper-tier familias’
homes.
“The flow of people and goods is certainly lively. Always something
fresh and interesting to see.”
“Yes indeed, yes indeed!”
Bofman had settled comfortably into his role as guide, rubbing his
hands, beside himself with excitement.
Upon further observation, there were many vendors dealing with
magic-stone goods. The designs were a bit different, but there were
stalls lined with dozens of lanterns with designs befitting the desert.
Orario’s magic-stone goods were leaving their mark even in the
desert world.

45 | P a g e
The Guild must be proud, Freya thought without any particular
emotion. And then her eyes suddenly narrowed.
But the atmosphere here stings.
The bazaar itself was booming, but something in the air was on edge.
Freya, with the all-seeing eyes of a goddess, had astutely noticed the
mood of the town.
“As you can see, this is a town where many people and things are
gathered,” Bofman said as he held out his hand, gesturing to the
surroundings, entirely unaware of Freya’s observation. “Goods from
other countries, of course. And slaves as well.”
As if timed with his words, a different sort of stir spread through the
bazaar.
“Ah, speak of the devil,” Bofman said.
As the two of them turned around, a group emerged onto the main
road from one of the side streets. Males and females of various races
were paraded out, all wearing the same rags that could hardly be
called clothes. Every face looked exhausted. Some were tinged with
despair, others with disappointment. There were many with wounds
covered by clotted black blood. They had iron manacles on both
wrists to keep them from fighting back and collars around their necks
connecting them to one another with rusted chains. Slaves.
“…Bofman, what are they doing with those slaves?”
“I imagine that’s a fresh batch one the slave traders brought in, since
this town has a slave market as well.”
“That seemed like quite a few slaves. Do they go hunting for people
like that often?”
Freya did not feel particularly shaken or disgusted, but she did feel a
bit suspicious. That was too many slaves. Even at a glance, she could
count more than a hundred of them, which was absurd. Just simple

46 | P a g e
kidnapping or people selling themselves to pay off debts would not
reach that sort of a number. That line looked more like someone had
raided several villages and then sold everyone they captured into
slavery.
“No, of course not! They would not under any circumstances disrupt
the order in the countryside here! However…”
Freya could generally guess the answer Bofman had for her. The
tense mood of the town and the large number of slaves. Those two
taken together would mean—
“In the western half of Kaios, there is currently a war going on…”
That.
“A war, huh?”
“Yes. The country directly north of Israfan, a kingdom known as
Shalzad, is being invaded by Warsa, which lies to the east.”
Freya did not know much about the current state of affairs in the
desert, but she did have a basic understanding of region. Every
country established in the Kaios Desert was a kingdom. There were
not any country-style familias influenced by a deity’s divine will, and
the majority of familias in the desert were generally managed as the
military arms of kingdoms. It was common to see low-intensity
conflicts, but full-scale wars for supremacy were rare—or at least
they were supposed to be.
“There have been rumors in recent years that Warsa has been paying
a powerful mercenary familia to support their military, and then they
unilaterally declared war on their neighboring country, Shalzad…”
“And Shalzad was immediately defeated?”
“Yes. They were apparently incapable of resisting Warsa’s military
might. Their capital fell and the interior of their country is being
overrun…”

47 | P a g e
“Hmmm…meaning their country has fallen into chaos, creating a
convenient environment for hunting slaves.”
“Indeed.”
Soldiers drunk on blood and violence could easily become beasts. In
the process of invading Shalzad, Warsa forces had surely attacked
every settlement they encountered along the way. Innocent villagers
and townspeople were brutalized, and those who just barely
managed to escape would have been easy pickings for slave traders.
“That explains the heavy mood over the town.”
It also explained all the weapons and gunpowder and the like in the
bazaar. The merchants had caught the scent of war and were
stocking up on items that would be crucial if more conflict broke out.
Meanwhile, the residents of the town were feeling nervous at the
signs of war.
“D-don’t worry! The capital of Shalzad did fall, but the Shalzad army
still has their prince, who managed to escape, and there is still a
resistance movement rising up in every corner of the country! Warsa
surely has their hands full with dealing with that, so there won’t be
any sparks flying in our direction!”
Meaning the invasion was an ongoing process. Even if the capital was
taken, as long as the country’s officials and soldiers continued to
resist, the war would drag on, and they would not dare bring a third
country into the mix. Bofman tried to assure Freya of the town’s
safety while carefully watching her face.
“A-anyway, the rumors say that Warsa’s soldiers are even now
rampaging through the towns and villages of Shalzad. The fleeing
refugees are falling into slavery, but…that’s not an uncommon sight
in this desert realm.”
“…”

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It was a long procession of young and old, men and women, being
forced to walk through the center of the bazaar. The crowds split to
the sides to avoid them, whispering to one another as the people
passed. Whether their whispers were filled with scorn or pity did not
particularly interest Freya. However, with her ability to see the
radiance of children’s souls, as far as she was concerned, it was a
boring spectacle. The souls of those who had been enslaved were all
a dull, ashen gray. For Freya, who prized brilliant, gleaming souls, it
was a spectacle that bordered on viscerally distasteful. Not many
people would be pleased to see a mountain of sludge and waste.
Even though it was another country’s problem, the flames of war
burning brightly would cause the scene before her eyes to occur
again—the number of slaves would continue to grow. If that
happened, she would not be able to search for her Odr in peace.
“L-Lady Freya, your clothes…!”
As even Freya looked on at the procession in discontent, the wind
blew. Bofman became flustered because it had blown her hood
down. He was concerned about the bazaar grinding to a halt if the
people noticed the goddess of beauty’s dazzling figure. After all, he
himself had been captivated by her profile. Just as it seemed like the
surroundings had been hit by a wave of murmurs, it quickly died back
down.
Those who had noticed Freya stopped moving, their faces blank as if
they were in a dream. The same was true for the slaves as well. They
stopped walking, their eyes widened, and their mouths dropped
open. Even in the midst of the despair that had caused them to close
off their hearts, they just had encountered something entirely not of
this world. No matter how much the slave traders pulled at the
chains and cracked the whip, they could not break hold of the
goddess’s beauty.
The procession of slaves ground to a halt.

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“—!!”
Something new had appeared. Freya’s silver eyes noticed a glimmer.
Hidden in the middle of the chaotic line, there was a girl who seemed
to be hiding behind the others—as if concealed by the shadow of the
countless stagnant souls. She had brown skin and disheveled black
hair. Her eyes were a light purple. Her face was a bit dirty but
exceedingly well proportioned. Her figure, hovering on the edge
between young girl and adult, evoked the image of a not-quite-ripe
fruit in Freya’s eyes. She was probably fifteen or sixteen, wearing the
same sort of rags as everyone else, while looking down at the ground
as if trying to hide herself as much as possible.
“…!”
Seemingly noticing the goddess’s eyes, she met Freya’s gaze, and just
like the other slaves, her eyes opened wide—and then she
immediately looked away.
That was a shock to Freya. The girl had by her own will resisted the
figure of a goddess alluring enough to entrance any mortal.
The girl was again pointedly looking at the ground, her face twisted
by her predicament and yet still dignified. Her grim, sharp gaze had
not faded yet. Like that of a tiger biding its time, waiting for the
moment to strike. At least that was how it appeared to Freya.
As the slave merchants finally regained their senses and cracked
their whips to get the procession moving again, the girl disappeared
from Freya’s sight in the press of slaves.
“Bofman, we’re going.”
“Yes, Lady Freya…? Wh-where did you want to go?”
Fixing her hood, Freya started walking like the wind as Bofman
desperately tried to keep up with her. The goddess’s lips curled into
a crescent smile.

50 | P a g e
51 | P a g e
“Please take me to the slave market.”

The slave market was near the very heart of the central district of
Leodo, built along the southwest edge of the oasis. It was clear at a
glance that several of the buildings had been constructed by skilled
masons, with dedicated platforms for the slaves to stand on, so that
those who visited the market could conveniently inspect the
products. There were also tents scattered all around the plaza, and
even some merchants who simply had the slaves lined up on a carpet
laid on the ground.
Perhaps because of a need for manual labor, there was a
preponderance of male animal people with good physiques. As for
women, it was mostly human women who were capable of
producing children with basically every race. Amazons were the least
common at a glance. The most beautiful specimens were displayed
at the front to garner the most attention. Most of them were
beautiful girls with exotic darker skin, wearing almost entirely
transparent veils. Probably to make it obvious at a glance that they
had not been damaged.
To the right was a gorgeous oasis. And to the left was a garden filled
with slaves whose resignation was pasted across their faces.
Not a bad display, Freya thought unironically.
If Hestia or Artemis or Astrea saw it, they would surely have pursed
their lips in disgust. Well, Artemis would probably have pulled out
her bow and arrow before going on a rampage to save all those who
wanted to be saved.
“Welcome, welcome, milady! Welcome to our slave market! My
name is Rozzo, the manager of this establishment.”
Having reached the trading company she was looking for, Freya was
greeted by a human similar to Bofman. He was middle-aged, average

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height, and average build. His face was not too shabby, and he had a
beard. His attire was top class, so much so that even if all the other
merchants nearby pooled their resources, they still would not match
him. Put bluntly, he was arguably a superior version of Bofman.
“Hey, Rozzo, this is the Lady Freya, whose renown sends tremors
through even the Labyrinth City. Carelessness won’t be forgiven,”
Bofman said as he leaned forward to emphasize his point.
“Come now, Bofman. Just because your trading company lost out to
mine…You remind me of that Far East saying: ‘You’re a tanuki trading
on a tiger’s reputation.’ Or was it a fox?” Rozzo snickered a bit at
him. “And this coming from a small little company that can’t even
afford to buy a building on the island. You might be a bit too green
for this kind of conversation.”
“Arghhhh! That’s rich coming from the weakest of the big four!”
Bofman’s face turned red as he stomped the ground.
They seemed to have some kind of history, but Freya really could not
care less. And honestly, the scene of a full-grown adult’s flabby
stomach jiggling in frustration was just hideous.
“There was a child among the slaves who were brought here that
caught my interest. Would it be possible to see them?”
“But of course!—Hey, line ’em up!”
Even without Bofman saying anything, Rozzo had already found out
about Freya. He did not hesitate to do as she asked, ordering one of
his underlings line up the slaves he had just gotten in.
“…How revolting.”
Freya looked around the surroundings again as the slaves were being
readied. The only people who were lively were the merchants. The
majority of the sea of slaves was hunched over, looking down at the
ground like convicted criminals.

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It was not like anyone who became a slave did it because they
wanted to. If you looked hard enough, maybe you could find one or
two hoping to be bought by a kind master or perhaps dreaming of a
livelihood that was better than whatever they had left behind. But at
least as far as Freya’s eyes could see, everyone’s spirit was clouded
over.
Having lost their pride their dignity stripped from them, the despair
stained not just their faces, but reached all the way to their souls.
There was not even anyone begging for help. Nor was anyone
praying to the gods. Freya coughed a little, as if the despair filling the
air made it hard to breathe. It was almost a mournful sigh.
The eagle-eyed Bofman was the only one who seemed to notice,
though, as he kept glancing over at her nervously, perhaps
concerned about the goddess’s mood.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting. Here are the items you requested.
As you know, we only just received these products, so they have not
received any training at all. However…”
Finally, the slaves were lined up in a single row under the brutal sun’s
rays. They had surely been walking for quite a long distance. Every
last one of them looked exhausted. The elderly and youngest
children looked like they might collapse at any moment. Rozzo alone
had a grin on his face.
Freya started walking along the line. She completely ignored the
pleading gazes and the eyes of those who had been charmed by her
looks, simply confirming the faces of all the slaves in order.
And then she found her.
“…!”
The girl from before.

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When the girl noticed the shadow had stopped in front of her, she
looked up, and her breath caught. Freya put her finger under the
girl’s chin and made sure their eyes met.
“You, what is your name?”
“……Ali.”
As if unable to defy the goddess’s divine will, she whispered that and
nothing more. Her voice was like a singing lyre that could be heard
across the sands of the desert night. Her eyes narrowing, Freya
released the girl and looked around again. Everyone was watching
her, as if entranced by the goddess’s each and every move.
“Hey, I’ve decided what I’m going to buy,” Freya said.
“Ooooh! Really?!” Rozzo looked ecstatic at the goddess’s words.
“Very well then, which of them did you—”
Before the slave trader could finish his sentence, he was interrupted
by the goddess’s next words.
“All of them.”
Time stood still.
“………Huh?”
Underneath that intense merciless sun, for just a second, the entire
slave market fell silent. Everyone had the same reaction. The girl who
called herself Ali, Bofman, and all the slaves nearby—none of them
could move, not believing their ears. Rozzo, who was looking at the
goddess, was the only one who managed to utter a sound.
“I said all of them. Every item you have in your inventory…and
anything else for sale in this market. I’ll take all of them.”
She thrust her demand at the frozen slave merchant. As time stood
still in the market, Freya smiled. It was the smile of an empress

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confident in her ability to do whatever tyrannical, irrational, or
absurd thing she desired.
“This dull scenery is unpleasant, and this is a small town, so it is
particularly eye-catching. Seeing slaves is unpleasant,” Freya began
speaking freely, without any inhibition. “After I’m gone, you may
continue trading flesh to your hearts’ content. However, while I am
in this town, I insist you not show me anything that will ruin my
mood.”
And for that reason alone, she bought all the slaves. Not out of
charity or compassion. Just because she wanted to change the
scenery of the town for the few days she would be staying there.
“…M-milady! I’m honored, but if I may…our products all come at a
price befitting their quality…T-to buy every…every one of the slaves
in this market would be…!”
Managing to break free from his stasis, Rozzo’s face started to twitch
as he tried to point out as politely as he could what he was thinking:
There’s no way you could possibly do that. But Freya would not brook
any back talk. Her smile widened as she asked the slave merchant
before her a question.
“Who am I?”
“…Milady, you are the Goddess Freya.”
“And what is my familia?”
“…Freya Familia, milady.”
“And what is my familia’s known for?”
“…For being the most beautiful and most powerful! They are the
followers of the goddess who has amassed more fame and wealth
than any in the world!”
The slave trader broke into a cold sweat.

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And finally, Freya had one last question.
“I can have all of them, right?”
“—Yes, Goddess!”
Rozzo bowed, unable to do anything other than obey. At the sight of
that, all the other slave traders turned pale and followed suit. The
entire slave market was bowed before a single deity.
The next moment—
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
—a staggering roar shattered the silence. Bofman and his attendants
covered their ears to dampen the clamor. Men and women, young
and old, people of every race. It was like the desert itself cheered.
The cascade of voices sounded like a chorus of thundering waterfalls.
There were those who cheered in joy. There were those who choked
back tears. And there were those who dropped to their knees,
clasped their hands together, and offered up a prayer of thanks to
the goddess. The explosive swell of emotion coming from the slaves
shook the entire market—no, the entire town.
The girl who was the goddess’s true target stood there in shock as
Freya turned away from her and calmly started walking away.
“Bofman, undo those children’s bonds. My children do not need such
accessories.”
“R-right away, milady!”
Bofman’s shoulders jolted as he called out to his trainees. Snatching
the keys away from the merchants, they undid the restraints on the
slaves one after the other. There was no way the number of
employees he had there would be enough, so one was sent running

57 | P a g e
to the Fazoul Trading Company’s headquarters to gather every last
person working there to help release all the slaves.
The slave market, filled with an unending stream of cheers, was
about to become even busier. And, indifferent to everything going on
around her, Freya walked briskly forward as Bofman desperately
tried to keep up.
“L-Lady Freya! If I may, the money to pay the merchants…?”
“Just give me an advance on it. I’ll give you a contract with the
familia later to cover the costs.”
Leaving Bofman aside as he went bug-eyed at the incendiary
situation she was handing off to him, Freya added another item to
her order.
“Also, ready something to transport those children.”
“Those children” were, of course, the slaves she had just bought. She
had paid for hundreds of them. Bofman was already in a cold sweat
as he desperately tried to get his mouth to work.
“L-Lady Freya! Pardon me, but transport them where? My deepest
apologies, but with the buildings my trading company has, housing
all these slaves would be…!”
In response to Bofman’s misgivings, Freya needed just a single finger
to answer. The oasis in the middle of their field of view. She was
pointing at the largest building in the town that looked almost like a
castle with a dome, built in the middle of the island at the heart of
the oasis.
“I’ll buy that mansion as well.”
This time, Bofman’s jaw dropped as if it had come loose.

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To the residents of the town, it was called the oasis mansion, and
true to its name, it was built in the middle of the island at the heart
of the oasis, its majestic dome bringing to mind a palace. It was
constructed of a white stone that reflected the sun, inlaid with
golden decorations to create a dazzling image. Surrounded by date
trees, it was the largest building in all of Leodo. It could house
hundreds of itinerant entertainers and play host to a days-long feast.
It was the most fabulous of villas that only the wealthiest of people—
more specifically, the town’s wealthiest merchant—could afford to
live in. However, at present, that luxurious estate had been claimed
by a certain goddess as her own.
“What are you doing? Food and drinks all around, please.”
In the great hall of the villa.
An extravagant fountain—a sculpture of a water elemental pouring
water—inside the manor was trickling away in the background as
Freya’s sweet soprano voice rang out. She was sitting atop a sofa set
several steps above the ground, looking down as well over a hundred
former slaves hungrily devoured the dishes being brought out one
after the other.
Both because of having been forced into slavery due to the impact of
the war as well as due to the careless management of the slavers,
they had not had a filling meal in a long time. They downed glass
after glass of water and wine while grabbing meat and fruits with
their bare hands and stuffing their faces.
However, it was not an unsightly scene of people abandoning all
manners and reason but a scene of exultation at being alive. They
were no longer bound by chains or manacles. Freed from their
shackles by a goddess’s whims, they were in high spirits, tears
flowing as their withered spirits were reinvigorated.

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“Mr. Bofman! We don’t have enough people!”
“I know! Reach out to people from the other trading companies! Tell
them we’ll pay for it if we have to—just get them over here!!!”
Meanwhile, the merchant Bofman and his trainees were caught up in
a chaotic furor. They had brought the slaves to the estate, bought up
all the food they could find at the bazaar, and were preparing
countless courses for everyone as if it were a banquet. But the
employees of the estate—whom Freya had also inherited from the
previous owner of the estate—were extremely understaffed. Anyone
could tell by the way they were running dishes around the estate,
and employees of the Fazoul Trading Company were being forced to
pitch in as well.
“Was it some mortal philosopher who said that wealth is not for
feeding your own ego but feeding the hungry? Hmm, if Loki heard
me saying that, she’d probably laugh herself to death.”
The first thing she had done after acquiring the oasis mansion was to
provide a bit of charity to all the slaves she had freed. Not so much
out of a philanthropic impulse, but as the bare minimum of
resolution to follow through on what she had done. If she had
bought up all the slaves and wrecked the market because it was an
eyesore only to come out the next day and say, “All right, you may
do as you please,” then her grace would have been called into
question. To her, beauty was not simply a lovely appearance. It was
fundamentally based in a character that was befitting a sovereign.
And most importantly of all, they were now all her property. So given
that, she would accept them all with a smile and have them attend
to her as she saw fit.
“Lady Freya, please have some!”
“Oh, thank you.”

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One of the slaves who Freya had saved was holding out a tray with a
colorful assortment of fruits. The brown-skinned beauty paled in
comparison to a goddess, of course, but she was nonetheless blessed
with looks that would charm many a man. However, it was clear
from her eyes that she was enraptured by the goddess. And not just
her. All of the beautiful men and women who were set to be sold as
the playthings of the wealthy were attending Freya. Not because she
had demanded it but of their own volition. Some poured wine, and
others fanned her with giant leaves. They were obviously entranced
by her, vying for the chance to wait on her hand and foot. At any
moment, someone might have led an elephant in to perform for her.
But Freya had by no means truly enthralled them. They were merely
filled with a deep sense of loyalty and respect for the alluring
goddess who had saved them. It was a scene that occurred purely
due to the queenly presence, the absolute charisma that Freya
wielded.
An observer could almost hear Freya saying “A harem? A reverse
harem? As if either could possibly satisfy me.” The lurid fantasy of
having dozens of beautiful men and women serve them was one that
every mortal had surely dreamed of at least once, and each and
every one of the people around Freya was entranced by the silver-
haired goddess just as deeply as the members of the familia that had
sworn loyalty to her.
It was the pinnacle of luxury.
“Lady Freya, thank you for saving us!”
And there, a young boy and girl approached the goddess. There was
no one who would scold them as rude for speaking out of turn. Their
pure, earnest thanks were what everyone felt.
“What are your names?” Freya asked.
“M-my name is Y-Yona!” the nervous boy responded.

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“I’m Haara!” the younger girl answered cheerfully.
“I see. Those are nice names. But Yona, Haara, you don’t need to
thank me, because I only freed you all for my own sake.”
That was the unvarnished truth. She had not had any kind of merciful
or charitable intentions in granting them their freedom. It had all
been self-centered, just the whim of a fickle goddess. Yona and
Haara tilted their heads, not really comprehending what she said, but
they quickly adjusted themselves.
“Ummm, Lady Freya…there was something I wanted to ask!”
“Hee-hee, go ahead. What would you like to ask?”
“Can we join your familia?”
The boy and girl responded with an admirable question. They
probably wanted to repay the goddess who had rescued them in
their time of need. Faced with those adorable children, Freya
responded with a pure smile and no ulterior motives.
“No, not yet. First, you should help out at Bofman’s company.” Freya
admonished the children with a smile.
“Wah?!” Bofman, who was rushing around, stopped in his tracks at
suddenly being called out.
She fully intended to leave all the slaves she had bought with the
Fazoul Trading Company when she returned to Orario.
“Your souls are still just seeds. They’re not even developed enough
to be called immature. I love beautiful flowers and adore sparkling
jewels. So first, you must gain some experience in this desert land.”
The qualifications to join Freya Familia were entirely based on the
goddess’s mood. Freya looked not just at ability but at the sparkle of
a person’s soul and chose only those capable of becoming Einherjar.
That was why they were the pinnacle. That was why they were the
strongest. Freya Familia was a place where those who only had

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talent and nothing more would quickly become stepping-stones for
their peers in the intense internal struggle that unfolded every day. If
immature, undeveloped children were thrown into that, they would
undoubtedly be struck down and meet a tragic end. Because of that,
Freya was strict in her choices, allowing only those beings capable of
becoming suitable followers of hers to join.
At the same time, she made the choices she did because she
appreciated the children, because she loved them, and most
importantly, because she had hopes they might show her something
new and unknown.
“And once you’ve grown more, when your souls begin to bloom, if
you catch my eye…when that time comes, I’ll gladly welcome you
into my familia,” Freya added as she reached out a hand and stroked
the little girl’s cheek.
“Y-yes, ma’am!” Haara responded, her voice brimming with joy and
determination.
Judging from the brilliance of those children’s souls currently, if they
were to bloom, it would only be after around ten years. However,
perhaps with the potential inherent in mortals, they might betray her
expectations and reach their prime in just five years or maybe even
sooner. If that came to pass, Freya would gladly welcome them in,
whatever their age. She always kept her word. That was the kind of
goddess Freya was.
“Lady Freya, if it pleases you, I’d like that, too!”
“Please allow your humble servant to sit at the lowest seat of the
table of your followers!”
The children’s requests opened the floodgates, and even the adults
began approaching with their supplications. Freya maintained the
same stance as she had with the children, while promising to
welcome those who were capable and caught her attention as

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noncombatant members—those who would not receive her ichor
and not gain a status. In short, they would be believers who would
support Freya and her familia. She had not particularly been
expecting this development, but it ultimately meant she was able to
increase her network of supporters outside the city.
Despite the fact that a clear line was being drawn between them and
the goddess, the former slaves’ devotion to Freya did not waver in
the slightest. Every one of them approached the goddess who had
saved them and thanked her with an unpracticed formality generally
reserved for addressing royalty.
At some point, the feast turned into an audience of people lined up
before her.
“Bofman, hire any of these children who wish to work for you. If their
loyalty to me is true, then they should rise in stature and become
great successes. After I return to Orario, I’ll leave this estate to you,
so do as you please……Bofman, are you listening?”
“Y-yes, of course, Lady Freya…”
Having finally finished everything, Bofman shakily returned to Freya,
exhausted. It was finally sinking in just exactly what it meant to be
subjected to the whims of a goddess—just how heavy a load it was
to serve as Freya’s companion. Absurd and unreasonable requests
were the norm. With naught but a single command, he would find
himself carrying out tasks that by any measure of common sense
should have been impossible.
The various costs incurred would be paid back later from Freya
Familia’s deep pockets, but even still, he was being forced to bear a
significant burden and pushing his limits. He had gained an
emaciated look that was a common affliction among the people who
tried to curry favor with deities in a calculated fashion.

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“L-Lady Freya…my trading company, of course, but I personally have
spared nothing in my dedication…so if you might find it in your heart
to grant me a reward at such time as your desire has been fulfilled, I
would be eternally grateful…gweh…hee-ho-ho…!”
And because of all that, it was inevitable he would continue to hope
for some extra return. His eyes were glued to the goddess’s bare legs
that he could practically smell as he laughed with a creepy, raspy
voice. Freya turned around, feeling almost a sense of wonder as four
shadows silently appeared.
“What do you think you’re doing, swine?”
“Did you wish to be castrated, swine?”
“I’ll carve out those eyes of yours, pig.”
“Filthy pig.”
“Gweeeeh?! W-wait! Wh-what are you…?! Stop! My arm! It doesn’t
bend that waaaaa—gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
The loud, satisfying sound of a kick landing rang out, followed by a
dull thump as Bofman’s swollen body was slammed headfirst into the
ground. Immediately, he was placed in a submission hold that
threatened to create some new places where his limbs could bend as
his whole body creaked.
Four prums were pushing him down to the ground in a pose exactly
like that of a pig splayed on all fours.
“Oh, you were here?” Freya asked.
“We combed through the entire residence to be sure no assassins or
suspicious elements were here,” Alfrik, the eldest of the Gulliver
brothers, responded.
From the moment their patron goddess had bought the oasis
mansion, they joined Ottar and the others in investigating the
grounds from top to bottom, and upon discovering a fool so rude as

65 | P a g e
to look the wrong way at the goddess, they brought down the
heavens’ wrath upon him.
Leaving the restraint and torture of Bofman to his brothers, Alfrik
removed his sand-colored helmet, revealing his clear blue eyes. And
then he looked down at the man below him as if he had caught a
glimpse of the vilest sewage imaginable.
“Filthy swine with ulterior motives are not fit to be at Lady Freya’s
side. May we have a little time to punish him?”
“As long as he’s still useful. Don’t finish him off. He is necessary as
my eyes and legs here in the desert.”
“Understood, milady.”
Alfrik saluted and then he and his brothers forcibly carried Bofman
away.
“Lady Freya?! Please save meeeeeeeeeeee!” Bofman called out a
strangled cry for help as he was hauled off.
The former slaves were startled by the sudden appearance of the
Gulliver brothers and started sweating bullets in terror even after
they left. It was not hard to imagine the fate that would befall the
foolish merchant dragged outside. Their decision, which was the wise
response, was to forget what they had just seen and continue to pay
their respects to Freya.
“—Oh, so you came.”
And then, she appeared right as the line was starting to peter out.
Brown skin and disheveled black hair. The girl with such pretty purple
eyes. Ali, the slave girl Freya had fallen for at first sight—the person
who had the potential to be the goal of this journey, her Odr.
“…Thank you very much for saving me earlier.”
There was a nervous tension to Ali’s expression as she said her
thanks by mimicking the form that the others had used. Freya’s eyes

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narrowed as, for just a second, the girl seemed about to put her
hand to her chest before stopping herself and bowing inoffensively
instead.
“Ali, how is your body doing?”
“Thanks to you, I’m doing much better…”
She had been freed from bondage and brought along to the estate as
a result of that, but her face looked much healthier, probably
because of getting enough water and food. But something about the
way she spoke was awkward. It almost seemed like she was uneasy
or on edge about something. Nonetheless, though, Freya’s smile
widened, as if even that awkwardness was amusing.
“Then tonight, come to my room,” she said, putting a finger beneath
the girl’s jaw and pulling her in.
“!”
Their faces were so close that the slightest shift might have had their
lips touching. The goddess’s silver eyes reinforced the command.
Ali’s body quivered as the alluring goddess looked into her eyes from
so close—but again, she rejected Freya’s gaze. Biting her lips, her
cheeks flushing, Ali forced herself to look away, fleeing the goddess’s
charms. A simple girl who had not even been granted a deity’s
blessing, let alone leveled up. There was no more holding back
Freya’s curiosity—or her sadism.
“My shopping was a bit extravagant today, but—you were my heart’s
desire.”
“Gh…?!”
“Which is why you won’t be getting away,” Freya whispered in Ali’s
ear as she let the girl go.
Ali staggered back, but her face was badly twisted. There had never
before been a mortal who looked like that while being allowed to

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bask in Freya’s presence, which only served to increase the goddess’s
anticipation. As the former slaves’ shocked gazes focused on the girl,
Freya stood up from her seat.
“Clean yourself up for tonight. And when you come to my chamber,
wear something to show off your lovely figure.”
Freya instructed Bofman’s trainee girls to take Ali to the bathing
area. Ali was stunned, and for just a moment before the attendants
reached her, she quickly scanned the surroundings. Seeing that,
Freya let an “Ahh” slip out as if she had just remembered something
and gave the girl a warning.
“I said you wouldn’t be getting away before, but to be clear, that was
not a threat, just a simple fact. My followers are even now watching
over this estate. So don’t bother trying anything silly…” Freya said as
she left the room, seeming to be enjoying herself.
Her words and smile left the girl utterly astounded. Outside the
residence, the sun started to set. The night was only just beginning.

Desert nights are chillingly cold. It was common knowledge in the

sandy regions of the world that the intense heat of the noonday sun
vanished dramatically come nightfall.
However, that was not the case for Leodo.
It was all thanks to the oasis. The water took more energy to heat up
than the earth, and once it was warm, it took longer to release all its
heat and cool down. The water absorbed the light of the noon sun
and released the heat at night, so at any place with an abundance of
water, the difference between day and night lessened. On top of
that, the palms and other foliage around the town also had the effect
of trapping some of the heat radiating from the ground as the air
cooled down, moderating the evening chill. Because of that, the

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night in Leodo was easier to endure than most anywhere else in the
western Kaios.
That was why Freya could comfortably wear a thin negligee in her
room as she waited for the girl to arrive.
“Should be any moment now.”
Enjoying herself as she sipped the expensive wine that the Fazoul
Trading Company had procured, the goddess checked the time.
The location was her bedroom, which had been cleared of people.
The chamber on the highest floor of the oasis mansion was dimly lit
by magic-stone lamps. The orange light blended with the night air,
creating a dreamlike mood. Lounging in a luxurious chair, the
goddess recrossed her seductive legs as she suddenly turned to the
person beside her.
“Bofman, are you okay?”
“Y-yes, Lady Freya…I’m okay…This filthy swine would never do
anything rude in milady’s presence…”
The only other person in the room was Bofman. When Alfrik and the
brothers released him, he was badly worn down. At a glance, he
seemed quite haggard, almost like he was on death’s door. He had
surely endured a harsh punishment imposed by the brothers.
As evidence of that, he was being quite careful not to look directly at
Freya’s chest, despite the fact that her night gown was quite boldly
cut around her bosom. If it were the earlier him, he would have been
gulping audibly, but for now his fear was winning out.
…Well, it was not that he was scared of her body so much as her
followers’ excruciating punishment, but it left her with mixed
feelings to see him trembling like a scared piglet around her like that.
Before long, the door opened.
“…Pardon me.”

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Ali was brought in by the attendants. Her figure had changed
dramatically from that of the pitiful slave earlier. Her disheveled hair
had been brushed out nicely, and she was wearing a neat regional
dress. Every nook and cranny of her body had been cleaned, and a
hearty amount of perfumed oils had been applied. The faint scent of
jasmine wafted through the room. Her flawless brown skin was more
than a match for the finest silk. Even Bofman, who was scarcely
glancing at Freya, was taken aback by her beauty. It would’ve been
difficult to find many slaves as beautiful as she.
“Welcome, Ali. You’ve become quite lovely. I hardly recognized you,”
Freya commented.
“Thank you…”
“Or was it that you intentionally dirtied yourself up in order not to
stand out?”
“…”
“Hee-hee, don’t look like that. It was just the thought that came to
mind, is all.”
While the attendants bowed and left the room, Ali approached
Freya’s chair, unable to hide her stiff expression. It was clear she had
her guard up against the goddess of beauty, who had grown
attached to her. Freya observed the girl closely as she set her
wineglass down on a small side table.
“…What did you want of me?” the girl asked, wringing the words out
carefully.
However, her attempt to cut to the chase was denied when Freya
moved on to something else altogether.
“Ali, do you deplore the current political situation? Or do you
perhaps resent what is happening currently?”
“…?”

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“The war between Shalzad and Warsa that caused you to be
enslaved…what do you think of it?”

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72 | P a g e
“!”
The change was dramatic.
Ali, who had largely been looking down from the moment she
entered the room, immediately raised her head at Freya’s comment,
and her light purple eyes flared. Freya’s eyes narrowed slightly in
response.
“I was just curious. Will you not answer my question?”
Faced with the goddess whose smile only seemed to grow deeper,
Ali responded by—refusing to answer and closing her eyes.
“You! You’re before the Lady Freya! Such insolence is—!” Bofman
immediately began to scold her but was halted mid-sentence by
Freya’s raised hand.
“Apparently Shalzad’s fallen capital is still filled with screaming.”
Freya paid no heed to Ali’s silence as she pressed the attack.
“…”
“Most of the royal family has been executed, and only a few still
survive.”
“…”
“What must the people of Shalzad be thinking right now?”
“…Gh!”
Ali maintained her silence, occasionally trembling as if struggling to
hold back a torrent of emotions threatening to break free. The
goddess continued to lob questions at her, but the girl persisted in
her silence. Unsure of how to react to such an odd scene, Bofman
kept glancing back and forth between the two of them, decidedly left
out of the loop.
“Bofman, tell me what you know about the prince of Shalzad who
was said to have escaped from the enemy.”

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“Yes? Ah, yes ma’am, of course,” Bofman looked surprised by Freya’s
sudden question as he responded. “The prince’s name is Aram Raza
Shalzad. He is the first and only son of the king, who was executed
when the capital fell. He was rumored to be peerlessly handsome…If
I recall correctly, he was sixteen years old.”
“Did he have any sisters of a similar age?”
“…? No, not if I remember correctly, at least. The king of Shalzad was
apparently not blessed with many children. The prince bore both the
royal family’s expectations and their obligations…”
Freya’s smile did not falter as Bofman finished his explanation. And
the girl before her looked like she was trying to endure an onslaught
with her eyelids clenched shut. The light of the single magic-stone
lamp in the room flickered. Finally, the goddess spoke with an air of
confidence.
“Ali, you look like you would be quite handsome dressed in men’s
clothes. With the proper attire…yes, I’m sure you could pass for a
prince…”
At that instant, Ali’s mask broke, betraying her efforts at controlling
herself. With Freya having said that much, even Bofman could guess
what she was implying as shock spread across his face.
“Ali, earlier, you were about to perform the proper way to greet a
deity, but you stopped yourself at the last moment, didn’t you?”
“…Gh!”
“That was the correct way to pay respect to a deity that the average
inhabitant of the desert would likely not have known, let alone a
slave, wasn’t it?”
While all the former slaves in the estate were giving their thanks,
when Ali had approached Freya, she had started to do something
different and then stopped short, instead resorting to an inoffensive

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bow. It had betrayed her as someone who knew the esoteric method
of formally addressing a deity. Her awkward movements revealed
her unfamiliarity with pretending to be an unknowing commoner,
and Freya’s eyes had not missed it.
“And regardless of how I try to press you, you respond with only
silence. Only someone who knows full well how to interact with
deities would be able to do that.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” Bofman asked, half in shock.
“Gods can see through all the lies of children. The most effective
method of dealing with a god’s questioning…is silence,” Freya
explained, not taking her eyes off Ali.
Mortals could not deceive deities. Or more precisely, the gods could
see through all manner of deception. However, even if they knew
someone was telling a lie, it was not possible for them to know what
exactly the lie was. With their arcanum sealed on the mortal plane,
they could not see all the way into mortals’ hearts. Because of that,
silence was the one and only means of resisting a deity’s questioning
that mortals had, and it was an effective one.
“In this desert realm, where familias are generally connected with
the military, normal people would not have much opportunity to
interact with gods. And there surely would not be many who could
reflexively respond in the most effective way…Not if they had not
already been trained to do so.”
In a place where many gods and goddesses gathered, like Orario—
where it wasn’t too hard to find an adventurer who had been caught
lying to a god before or something like that—it was plausible
someone might have trained themselves to respond that way. But
this was the Kaios Desert, far away from the Labyrinth City. Most of
the familias here were treated as part of the military of any given
country, from what Bofman said before. That meant that the patron

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god who led the faction would mostly interact with the nation’s
elites. In that sort of an environment, someone who purposefully
maintained their silence when dealing with a god would have to be a
person who interacted with gods on a daily basis or someone who
had been trained that way in order to prevent information leaks.
“I-if someone received that kind of training, then it would surely only
be someone among a select group of merchants or nobility…or
royalty,” Bofman said, turning pale, finally realizing everything.
In other words, Freya’s questioning of Ali had been a bluff to confirm
that she was indeed someone of high-class origin. The actual
answers she might have given were irrelevant.
“And more than anything, I could feel it when I first saw you. You
possess a dignity that separates you.”
A tiger biding its time, waiting for the right moment to strike. From
the moment she laid eyes on Ali in the bazaar, Freya realized her true
nature.
“Th-then that means Prince Aram is…!”
“Not a son, but a daughter. Raised as a prince by a king who was not
blessed with many heirs. A rather conventional sort of trope.”
It’s not conventional at all! Bofman thought, starting to sweat as he
shook his head.
Most likely, while her country was being attacked, an incident had
occurred and she had been captured by slave traders. Or perhaps
after the capital had fallen, while leading the resistance against
Warsa, she had been separated from the rest of her allies and wound
up in chains. Bofman’s face paled even further.
Now aware he was in the presence of the prince, or rather princess,
of a country in a difficult situation, he was surely calculating the

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merits and demerits of the knowledge that had just fallen into his
lap.
“If news spread that Prince Aram was actually a princess…given the
current situation, I wonder what would happen?” Freya’s lips curled
up sadistically for an instant.
The silent girl’s eyes snapped open.
“You dare blackmail me?!”
Her tone and mood changed in an instant. Just as Freya had
observed before, she displayed the majesty of royalty in spades.
Even the self-proclaimed wealthy merchant Bofman quivered at her
rebuke, intimidated by the presence her small body seemed to
project. However, Freya did not budge one bit from her elegant seat.
“Of course not. I’ve no intention at all of blackmailing you,” she
responded casually.
“Wh—?!”
“On top of that, I have no interest in either country or the war that is
going on. You, and you alone, are what I am interested in.
“I teased you because I wanted to see your true form,” she added
with a smile that did not contain any malice. Ali’s body stirred
beneath the goddess’s gaze. It had apparently dawned on her that
she was seeing something not of this world.
“…You are truly the Goddess Freya, are you not?”
“Yes. How many times must I say it?”
“Then, Goddess Freya, I would like you to set me free.”
Finally, Ali stopped pretending to be a wretched slave and spoke with
a royal demeanor while resisting Freya’s alluring appearance.
“You have my utmost gratitude for releasing me from slavery. Truly, I
mean it. However, as you have realized, despite being a woman, I am

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playing the role of the prince. I have somewhere I must return to and
a people that I must save.”
“…”
“I swear I shall repay this debt someday. So, please, allow me to go
back to my country.”
Ali’s purple eyes met Freya’s head-on. She surely recognized that a
deity might consider her request unreasonable, but her expression
was unyielding. She was being targeted by Warsa and could not be
sure what fate awaited her tomorrow. And even if she managed to
link up with Shalzad’s army, what could the prince of a country that
had lost its capital offer to repay a goddess?
Bofman was initially overwhelmed by Ali’s regal presence, but just as
he was about to point out that there would be no value for the
goddess in doing that, Freya again checked him with a wave.
“Very well,” she responded without any hesitation again.
“What…?”
“You may do as you please. I asked what I wanted to ask, so if you
want to go somewhere now, I won’t stop you. You may go as you
please.”
Ali blinked over and over. She had expected to be rejected outright,
or at least to have some sort of over-the-top compensation scheme
forced on her by a cruel goddess. She was visibly bewildered by
Freya’s response.
“It’s not like I bought you out of a desire for an enslaved puppet in
the first place,” Freya said. And then her lips curled into a smile.
“However, somewhere down the line, you can be sure that I will
claim that repayment you mentioned.”
Ali was roused from her shock by a bolt of tension that shot right
through her the moment she heard those words. Her face looked

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strained as she nodded, like a criminal making a deal with the devil in
the fables of old.
“…You have my thanks, goddess of the world beyond.”
Her gratitude was a mere formality. Freya stifled a little giggle.
“That’s that, then. Bofman, take her to her room.”
“I-is this really okay?”
“Yes, this is fine.”
Bofman nervously double-checked with her, but Freya simply urged
him on placidly.
Finally, the female attendants summoned by his service bell
appeared and led Ali away. As she was leaving, Ali glanced at Freya,
but Freya just smiled back at her.

The sun peeked out over the sand dunes stretching out to the
horizon. As the darkness started to fade, the Kaios Desert’s
temperature increased as it escaped the cold embrace of night.
Morning had arrived.
“I overslept…! As if I’ve got any time to waste!”
Ali leaped out of bed not long after sunrise.
The room she had been led to last night was magnificent, and the
soft bed had lured her into a comfortable sleep. She had been
constantly on the move, both before she was caught by the slave
traders and after they had captured her, pushing her to the limits of
exhaustion. Thanks to the inviting bed and a full night’s sleep,
though, most of that exhaustion was gone, and her head was clear.
She frantically started moving, readying herself for her journey. She
wanted to avoid becoming indebted to Freya any more than she

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already was, but she did accept the travel clothes that the attendants
had politely offered her.
At that moment, the only other clothes she had to her name were
the slave rags, the dress that Freya had given her for their
rendezvous last night, and a light nightgown—and all of which would
have drawn unnecessary attention if she walked around outside in
them. Given that she intended to leave Leodo and needed to avoid
revealing her true identity, Ali did not really have a choice, so she
begrudgingly accepted the travel clothes.
I can’t figure out what that goddess is thinking. She said I was her
heart’s desire, but then immediately let me go…No, don’t think about
it. It’s already clear she’s the kind of deity that it’s best not to get
involved with…
Ali had absolute confidence in that analysis as she left the oasis
mansion. As she was passing through the gate, the catman standing
guard there audibly scoffed in annoyance. Ali was thrown off by his
inexplicable hostility, but it was not long before her confusion was
resolved.
As she crossed the big wooden bridge connecting the island in the
middle of the oasis to the northern side of the city—
“…Why are you here?”
Ali stopped, her face tensed when she saw the goddess leaning
against the railing of the bridge, clearly expecting her.
“Because I was waiting for you,” Freya responded, intentionally
dodging the actual question.
“Wh-what do you mean?! You said last night you were letting me
go…!” Ali shouted, paying no heed to the stares of the other people
crossing the bridge.
“I said that I wouldn’t stop you, but I didn’t say anything about not
coming with you.”

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Freya was wearing the same clothes as she was when they first met
the other day: a short white dress and red hood, a matching red
fabric wrapped around her waist, and a black skirt. The clothes that
Bofman had arranged for her were breathable and easy to move in,
so they would make for convenient travel clothes. Though Ali had no
way of knowing that.
“You?! Come with me?! What are you talking about?!”
“The only thing I’m interested in is you. I told you that last night. So
I’m going to watch you. I want to observe you from up close.”
Ali abandoned her royal gravitas for a moment as her eyes opened
wide in unveiled shock.
What are you talking about?! Are you crazy?! That doesn’t make any
sense! she screamed in her head. She was utterly confused and well
past the point of caring that the goddess could accurately read her
state of mind.
“In what way will your soul transform? Will it shine even brighter?
That’s what I want to see. What I want to confirm.”
—To know whether you are suitable to be my Odr.
That last part, however, did not reach Ali’s ears as her exasperation
reached its limit.
“Do you think this is a game?! I must get back to the army as soon as
possible for the sake of my country! I don’t have time to deal with a
goddess’s flights of fancy—” So I have no desire to be shadowed by
some weirdo goddess! was what Ali was about to add, rejecting
Freya, but—
“What about traveling expenses?” Freya’s one question stopped the
girl in her tracks. “It seems you plan to leave this town, but have you
made all the necessary arrangements?”
Ali was at a loss for words as the goddess continued.

81 | P a g e
“I fully understand that you have no desire to be further indebted to
me. However, what can you do by yourself? I don’t know where you
plan to go, but it’s not someplace you can easily reach by foot, right?
If so, then how will you cross the desert?”
Freya’s points were all sound and undeniable. Ali was currently
broke, and without the funds to prepare for a desert journey,
venturing out into the sands was not just foolish, it was suicidal.
It was not as if Ali had not considered that when she left the manor,
though. This was Israfan, after all. There were merchants here who
had close ties to the Shalzad royal family. If she was dressed as a man
and identified herself as the prince, it would be possible to get help
from them, but—
“Which reminds me of something Bofman mentioned. The situation
in Shalzad is currently extraordinarily unstable. Many merchants are
wagging their tails for Warsa, as they currently hold the
advantage…If you started announcing yourself as the missing prince,
they might decide the reward for turning you in is better than the
risk of hiding you and providing assistance.”
Freya rested her cheek on one hand as she, by all appearances, read
Ali’s mind.
“Are there any merchants who were close to you personally rather
than just aligned with your country? Is there someone who would
actually set aside profit to side with Shalzad out of loyalty?”
Ali’s optimistic plans and the straws she was grasping at were all
swept away by the goddess’s smile. Without a personal connection
with a merchant, none of the trading companies would extend their
hands to the prince of a floundering country. And because Ali had
had to keep her real gender hidden, she had rarely had any chances
to build such connections. Other than those who already knew her

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secret, she had not been allowed to interact with other people any
more than was absolutely necessary.
“Traveling alone in the desert at such a young age…you might just
end up in a slave train again, you know?” Freya commented with
slight smile.
“Grrr…!!” Intercepted at every possible angle, Ali could do nothing
more than groan in frustration.
“If you’ll allow me to accompany you…then I’d be willing to help you,
though.”
Freya was still smiling as she offered Ali a way out.
For Ali, who did not have many people she could rely on—any,
really—Freya’s offer was like a blessing from the heavens. It was
possible something worse might happen because of it, but at the
very least Freya would not try to help Warsa or hurt Shalzad. If she
were going to do that, she would have done it already. Ali suspected
that what she had said the night before about not caring about the
war was probably the truth.
But getting played around with like this is just…!
Even so, though, Ali still didn’t want to let her have her way. It was a
combination of caution when dealing with such an incomprehensible
person as well as the pride of a prince who knew better than to trifle
with deities—but most of all, it was a childish rebelliousness. She just
could not stand the smug way the goddess was smiling. Her beauty
was such that it threatened to allure Ali, even though she was a girl,
too, but Freya’s gaze had a certain feel to it, as if she was looking
down on mortals or perhaps appraising them. That, combined with
the goddess’s egotistical actions, and Ali just could not help finding
Freya distasteful. Despite her own pathetic situation and the direly
needed help, she insisted on holding out.
“My compensation.”

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“…!”
“You swore that you would repay me some day. Today is that day.”
That was the clincher. Just as Freya said, Ali was the one who had
promised to repay her. It felt an awful lot like minor quibbling, but if
she reneged, it would be a stain on the honor of Shalzad—indeed,
the request Freya was making was cheap relative to what she owed,
so much so that it was debatable whether this request could really
be equivalent.
She wanted to tear Freya a new one and scream at her to quit
screwing around, but she restrained herself as her shoulders
slumped.
“I’m the one who made the promise…and I’m the one being helped
here…so I’ll allow you to accompany me…”
“Very good. Thank you.”
In the end, Ali was forced to dance to the goddess’s tune. And the
reason the catman had scoffed in annoyance was probably because
he had realized it would all end up like this. It was not through any
fault of Ali’s.
At least she was able to repay her debt quickly.
“However! Promise me you won’t just get in my way all the time!” Ali
refused to budge on that one point.
“But of course. I promise.” The goddess simply responded with a
provocative little smile.
Resigned to her fate, Ali started walking.
When they crossed the bridge over the oasis, Leodo was lively as
noon approached. The bazaar in the northern part of the city was
booming, more than equal to the bazaar in the southern half of the
city that Ali and Freya had passed through the day before. Compared
to that one, the sides of the streets here were filled to the brim with

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shops and people lined the road. Camels loaded up with goods were
having difficulty moving through it.
“Now that I think about it, is Ali a fake name? Should I call you
Aram?”
“…My true name is Ali. Out of respect for my dying mother’s wish,
my father did not steal away my individuality. Though there have
been times I wondered if I might end up forgetting my own name…”
Ali explained.
We’re in the middle of a giant crowd here…Were you seriously
about to start calling me by the name of a prince whose disappearance
is the subject of so much rumor? She kept that snide quip to herself,
though.
Around that time, Ali lightened up on the formal tone toward Freya.
It was not how deities were supposed to be addressed, but she
nonetheless started using a tone that conveyed her annoyance a bit
more readily. However, Freya did not seem to mind it at all. In fact—
“I see—then I’ll call you Ali from now on.”
She responded with a smile more befitting a girl enjoying herself
than a goddess. She seemed happy, as if anticipating how this
encounter of theirs would develop. Ali unconsciously was drawn in
by that smile and time froze for a few seconds.
“Ali, make sure you entertain me.”
“Gh…! Do I look like a clown to you?!”
But that overbearing manner of speech she had was enough for Ali
to be able to confirm again that she just could not really get along
with this goddess.
“So, where are we going? Surely you don’t plan on just walking back
to Shalzad like this?”

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“…There is a hidden fortress along the border between Israfan and
Shalzad. The plan was to meet up there with my retainers in the
event that the worst-case scenario came to pass, and we were split
up. That is where we are headed.”
It was impossible to lie to gods, so given that they were going to be
traveling together, there was no point in hiding it. Freya said
“Hmmm” as she brushed her hair behind her ear.
“Now for my questions. What funds do you have available?” Ali
asked without looking at the goddess as they weaved through the
crowd.
It was quite a ways to the border and the hidden fortress when their
starting point was Leodo. Food and water would be necessary as well
as a means of crossing the desert. Obtaining passage aboard a desert
ship would likely be impossible, but at the very least they would
want camels. And protection. Thieves and monsters were plentiful in
the Kaios Desert. Without some skilled bodyguards, the two would
not be able to safely cross the desert. It would be faster to join up
with a caravan, but given her secret, Ali was reluctant to spend time
around too many other people.
While Ali was thinking through all that, Freya responded without any
delay,
“What funds do I have? None. I don’t like carrying something as
unwieldy as a bunch of gold coins. I just promised contracts with my
familia to Bofman for everything.”
“What?!”
Ali stopped moving at that and swung back to stare at the goddess
with an expression of disbelief on her face.
“Wh-what do you mean?! You said you would take care of the
preparations! That’s why I even…!” Ali moved in, about to ask

86 | P a g e
whether Freya had been lying to her all along, but she was stopped
by Freya’s next words.
“This is our first trip together, though. I don’t want to bring Bofman’s
money into it.”
It was almost like she was saying this was a date for just the two of
them. Ali was taken aback, hit again by a sense of wonder. She had
long since lost count of the number of times this goddess had
stunned her.
I’ve felt it ever since I met her…but she is a really, really strange
goddess.
Overwhelmingly beautiful, high-handed, and supernatural. One
moment her cool smile was causing shivers and bringing slave
traders to their knees, the next she could sound like an innocent little
girl like just now.
Ali had no way of knowing, but this side of Freya was one that she
never displayed in Orario. The side of the goddess that Ali was seeing
here was one that Freya had literally never shown anyone except Ali.
“…So then what are we going to do? We still don’t have any funds,”
Ali asked in a quiet voice, having missed her moment to get angry.
The goddess’s only response was to leave her behind, though,
walking ahead.
“On-site procurement,” she said as she headed toward a tavern.
Despite being a popular bar, it was well appointed both inside and
out. It almost looked like a salon for well-to-do socialites. Freya
smoothly headed inside, as if she had been looking for it in particular
while walking through the bazaar. Ali frantically followed behind
while hiding her face, and by the time she entered, the goddess was
talking to a pair of men.
“Hey, mind if I join?”

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“Huh?”
The men were seated around a table, playing a board game. The
human who turned back with a puzzled look on his face froze like a
statue when he saw Freya. And a split second later he was very
obviously lovestruck.
“M-milady, is there something I can do for you?”
“I just said it, didn’t I? How about a match?”
Glancing at the beastman who had a similar lovestruck expression,
Freya ushered him out of his seat and sat down at the table. Ali was
having trouble keeping up, wondering what Freya was doing when
she finally realized it.
“You’re a merchant, aren’t you? Not only that, you must be quite
well off to be gambling here before noon.”
“Y-yes, indeed! My name is Nahzo, one of the big four in this town!”
Everything from the well-tailored clothes and jewels in plain view to
the fact that they were drinking the best quality of wine in broad
daylight, it was clear they were merchants. And not just any
merchants, but quite successful ones at that. The man Freya
questioned responded with an obvious desire to flaunt his success.
And what does he even mean, “big four”? Is that guy who got up
also a top four?
Ali looked over with an air of annoyance at the waste of time as
Freya’s eyes narrowed like a cat’s.
“If I win against you, will you do me a favor?”
“A-a favor?”
“Yes. I’d like you to give me all the money that you currently have on
you,” Freya responded with a brazen request.

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Ali stared at the goddess, feeling What are you even saying, lady?
levels of shock and exasperation. And the man sitting across from
her had exactly the same sort of look on his face. Glancing over at
the other merchant, he responded with a wry smile and a look of
consternation.
“E-even if it is a request from a goddess such as you, that’s a little…”
“If I lose, I’ll give you my body. For one full day, you can do as you
please.”
At those words, though, the man locked up.
He could run his hands over her body. Those voluptuous breasts.
That alluringly narrow waist. The man audibly gulped. In the blink of
an eye, his gaze became like that of a hyena at a full feasting table.
“…Are you sure about that? It might be rude to say, but if you’re
going to wager that much, then I won’t really be able to hold back.”
“I look forward to it. I mean what I said and would never tell a lie.
“I will have you listen to my favor, so I’ll make sure the wager is
sufficient to bring you to the table.” When Freya put it like that, the
man’s lips cracked into a desirous smile. Ali was dumbfounded by the
negotiations happening before her eyes before finally cutting in
frantically:
“W-wait! What do you think your body is?! Betting yourself on
something like this…!”
“Oh, are you worried about me?”
“O-of course not! It’s just that I can’t sit idly by and watch such
licentious behavior!” Ali stammered, turning red as she raised her
voice.
Freya’s shoulders trembled a bit as she restrained a giggle at Ali’s
response.

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“I’m grateful for your concern, but I’m going to have to ask you to
just let it go this time,” she said. “When the time comes that you
want something, it’s reasonable that you would put something of
equivalent value on the line to get it, right? At the moment, we don’t
have anything else to offer other than ourselves. So there’s nothing
to do but wager that. If I can’t at least do that, then I would be a fool
for saying before that I would cover your travel expenses.”
“B-but…”
Freya held out her hand as Ali approached her, still resolutely against
this bet. Reaching out her thin fingers behind the girl’s neck and
pulling her close, the goddess whispered so that only Ali could hear
her.
“You’re going to be the next king, aren’t you?”
“!”
“Then don’t forget this. No matter how great the policies
implemented by a wise leader, no matter how skilled at war a ruler
might be, no matter how tyrannical a despot might be, by laying
claim to the title of king, each and every one of them will have to
engage in countless gambles.”
The voice whispering in Ali’s ear threatened to melt her mind as it
left her awestruck. She froze for a second before suddenly pulling
away from Freya. Pushing her hand to the ear the goddess whispered
into, she could feel a loathsome heat burning in her cheeks as she
glared back at Freya. But at the same time, she could feel an
inexplicable wave spreading through her chest.
And because of that, she did not say anything more to try to stop
Freya. The admonition she had just received was like a divine
revelation.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. Shall we begin?”

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Freya recrossed her legs as she turned to the merchant. Her
opponent nodded, looking like he might start licking his lips at any
moment as he arranged the pieces on the board. Realizing
something, Ali broke free of her stupor and approached Freya again.
“D-do you know the rules? The games here in the desert are
different from the rest of the continent. They can be quite
complex…!”
“Not in the least. It’s my first time seeing this game, so it should be
fun.”
Ali came close to collapsing when she heard the carefree response.
Ali had bounced through a range of different emotions the past few
minutes. There was a hint of anger in her voice as she quickly
explained the rules.
The game they were about to start playing was called Halvan. It was
one of the most popular games in the Kaios Desert region, along the
lines of the continent’s chess or the Far east’s shogi. And as Ali
alluded to earlier, the strategy involved in Halvan was more complex
than that of chess or shogi. Someone who had just learned the most
basic of basic rules about the pieces’ movements and formations had
virtually no chance of winning. At least that was what Ali thought,
and the merchant on the other side of the board who had
undoubtedly amused himself playing Halvan countless times before
was chuckling to himself, assured of his victory.
After Freya finished attentively listening to the rules, she just said—
“I got it.”
And then, toying with one of the pieces in her hand, she declared:
“We don’t have time to waste, so let’s get this over with quickly.”
And then, about fifteen minutes later…
“Th-that’s not…?!”

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In a corner of the tavern, Ali and the beastman exclaimed as the
human man looked down at the board in shock. It went without
saying, but it was a complete and utter victory for the goddess. She
had finished it with a quick attack, not needing any pauses at all to
think through a strategy.
“All right, then, I’ll be taking your wallet.”
Smiling at the wealthy merchant who was about to slump out of his
seat, Freya held out her hand. The man’s eyes glanced back and forth
between her hand and her silver eyes before weakly holding out his
wallet. The sparse crowd in the tavern had all been drawn into the
game of Halvan and was shocked that the beautiful goddess won.
However, Freya seemed to have already lost interest as she left the
tavern. Ali, who had been standing stock-still while watching the
game, snapped out of her stupor and chased after Freya.
“Wh-what was that?! You were lying about never having played it
before, right?! It was stunning how badly you trounced him…!”
“Even having descended to the mortal realm, deities are still all-
knowing. There are lots of amusements here we’ve never thought of,
but once we grasp the key points, we’ll win.
“In fact, I’m a little hurt you thought I wouldn’t win,” she added, as if
her victory was as self-evident as the sun rising in the east.
When she put it like that, Ali did not really have any kind of follow-
up. There were certainly a lot of foolish gods in the mortal realm, but
this just reminded her again how deeply absurd deusdea really were.
“All right, then, we’ve collected our war funds—I mean date funds.
Time to go shopping.”
“It’s not a date!”
Ali fired back immediately, but only just barely. She was getting worn
down dealing with the goddess.

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The two of them proceeded down the lively street, Ali getting half-
dragged along by Freya. Because the bazaar in the south of Leodo
had the desert ship port, it had more of a trading influence with all
sorts of products gathered together. In contrast, the products
gathered in the northern bazaar were more aimed at travelers and
locals. Packaged rations, travel clothes, and all sorts of day-to-day
necessities were on display there.
Almonds were apparently popular at the moment. A beastman with
thick fur, perhaps unable to deal with the intense heat, was sitting in
the shade of a building as he ate some ice cream. “Oh, so they even
have ice rooms in the desert,” Freya commented. Then she laughed a
little at herself as she glanced over at a stall where the ice cream
vendor pulled another treat out of a magic-stone cooler.
“Move along. Don’t go buying stuff we don’t need. We need to get
food and water first—”
“Ali, let’s try that kebab. I’m curious what it tastes like.”
“—Have just a little self-control!” Ali finally hit her limit and shouted
at the free-spirited goddess dragging her around from stall to stall.
Her face was still deep in the shade of the hood she was wearing, but
the volume of her shout betrayed the fact that she had forgotten
about trying to conceal her identity.
She could not tell whether Freya recognized what she was feeling or
not as the goddess simply smiled back at her. Freya was just doing as
she pleased in order to experience the sorts of things that could only
be experienced there in the desert.
Ali gave strict instructions for her not to move while she went to get
water and food, but unsurprisingly the goddess had not listened, and
when Ali got back, she was buying some other seemingly pointless
things at a different shop. The purchases were various expensive
magic-stone items.

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“Hey! What are you buying?!”
“You were taking care of the preparations we need for the trip,
right? So I decided to gather the indulgences we need so we can
enjoy the trip.”
“You idiot! Traveling through the desert is difficult enough as it is!
And all the more so for an outsider who did not grow up here and
has no experience walking the desert!” Ali was staggered, about to
fall over as her anger exploded.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re hard-headed, Ali? Worrying
about what the future holds is not a bad thing necessarily, but
focusing too much on it robs you children of the wealth of your lives.
Optimism is the refuge of fools, but a wise man always has a vice or
two to amuse themselves. That applies as much to kings as it does to
anyone else.”
The goddess’s admonition was implicitly patronizing, and—though
the goddess had no intention of doing so—just further antagonized
Ali because it was the same as the gossip that had been spread
behind her back in the palace.
For example: “The prince is too serious.”
Ali’s cheeks reddened as Freya’s words struck home, and she
responded with her most defiant stance of the day.
“I—I have a duty that I must fulfill no matter what! I don’t have any
time or mental capacity to spare to be enjoying myself! If you’re
going to accompany me, shouldn’t you be considerate of that?!” she
said in a rather childish tone, pressing the goddess to listen to her.
“I don’t want to. I have absolutely zero intention of turning this trip
into some boring journey like any other,” Freya responded without a
care in the world.

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Her response was the very embodiment of divine freedom, and it left
Ali wishing she could tear the goddess’s head off. And upon seeing
the girl’s frustration, the goddess just giggled, enjoying herself. If
anyone who knew the goddess could have seen her there, they
would have been shocked. She was not just allowing Ali’s back talk,
she even seemed to be relishing it.
“She’s quite enjoying herself today…”
“Today, too, you mean. She’s been enjoying herself ever since
coming here and finding that girl.”
Among the goddess’s followers scattered around the pair and
watching over Freya from the shadows, the eldest prum brother and
the white elf exchanged words. Some of the followers looked dour as
they watched the goddess and girl, while others made no effort to
hide their distaste, but the boaz warrior alone simply observed the
two, his eyes narrowing as he studied the carefree goddess’s radiant
smile.
“Nggggh! Whatever! Moving on…The next thing we need is
protection! Let’s find a mercenary familia to hire…!”
“We don’t need that. Let’s just go find some camels instead. We’ll
need them to carry the stuff we bought anyway. If possible, I’d like to
travel while riding, but do you think it will hurt my bottom?”
“Hey! I said don’t just go wherever you want!”
As her followers watched from the shadows, the goddess continued
to drag the girl around at her own pace. Freya was in a good mood as
she continued gathering the provisions for the trip, which led to Ali
shouting in frustration time and time again.

There were four entrances to Leodo: the desert ship port

constructed in the south and gates in the north, east, and west

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where travelers and caravans traveling on foot and by camel were
entering and leaving the city at brisk rate.
Freya and Ali left from the northern gate.
“The fortress is not close enough to reach in just a day or two. There
are several relay points along the way where we can rest. We’ll
spend the nights there before setting out again. For today we’ll head
for one of the northern oases.”
“Do as you please. I’m just along for the ride.”
Each straddling a camel loaded up with bags, the two of them set off
across the sea of sand that stretched off into the horizon. And it
really was like a sea of sand. So much so that camels were called the
ships of the desert until literal desert ships took the stage. The dunes
made an amusing sound as the camels’ legs stepped into the sand. In
terms of comfort, horses were generally considered more reliable.
Ali was already used to how it felt, but Freya was left furrowing her
brow in quite the dignified manner, which gave Ali a brief moment of
schadenfreude, but—
“Are we going to just keep moving at all times? It seems like it would
be more comfortable to travel at night,” Freya asked, seemingly
already bored.
“We’re not the only ones who feel that way. There are many animals
and monsters in the desert that are nocturnal. Factoring in the
possibility of being attacked, it’s best for us to move during the day.
And more importantly, I don’t have any time to waste. I need to link
back up with the army as soon as possible,” Ali explained brusquely.
That was what she said, but in the end she knew that monsters
showed up when they wanted to show up, paying no heed to
people’s convenience.
Ali had bought a sword for herself for self-defense at the bazaar and
had previously been trained to proficiency, enough for the bare

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minimum of self-defense, but compared to a mercenary, her combat
ability did not amount to much. If she got surrounded, it would be
over in an instant.
Ali had gotten into it with the free-spirited goddess already about
leaving without finding guards first. She had no idea what the deity
was thinking, but in the end all that worry was for naught.
“–––––Gh?!”
The giant desert lizard was executed instantaneously, not even
allowed death throes. The two-meder-long, four-legged carnivorous
monster was laid low by a spear tip that flashed like lightning. That
was the fifth one, and Ali still could not follow the action with her
eyes.
The group of monsters that had appeared before them, attracted by
the scent of prey, was eliminated in the blink of an eye by a catman
with a silver spear.
“…So that’s what you meant about not needing guards.”
“Yes. My children are here. I had originally intended this trip to be
without them, but since they decided to tag along, we might as well
put them to work.” Freya nodded.
That was when Ali finally understood the goddess’s nonchalance. Of
all the factions whose fame had spread around the Kaios Desert,
Freya Familia was known as the strongest. With that sort of
protection, Ali had indeed been foolish for trying to hire
mercenaries.
“But if they’re guarding us, then they could just stay beside
us…Where are they even hiding…?”
She glanced at Allen, who had appeared out of nowhere to protect
them—or more specifically, to protect Freya. The catman, wearing a
simple cloak over his head, just swung his spear once to clean it as if

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he thought everything going on was pointless. And when it came to
Ali, he treated her as if she weren’t even there.
“Not very sociable, is he…So is he the only one tagging along while
the others stay back in the town?”
“They’re all here. They’re a bit overprotective.”
“Wh-what? Where?! Other than him, I can’t see any of them!”
“Right beside us. They’re just maintaining a little distance so as not
to be an eyesore while protecting us.”
Looking all around, there was nothing for the eye to see but the vast
desert. Ali could see neither hide nor hair of the guards who were
supposedly watching over them. She couldn’t tell whether they were
hiding or whether she just could not see them. The girl’s face tensed
a bit as she was reminded once again just what kind of group they
were.
Meanwhile, Freya had already climbed down from the camel as she
conversed with a carefree tone. “Yep, it really is quite rough on my
bottom. Also, I can feel some motion sickness coming on,” the
goddess commented as she started walking beside her camel while
holding the reins. Ali just sighed and got down from her camel, too.
Freya was an annoying goddess, but she was reluctant to disregard
her and look down on her from atop a camel.
“Not that it matters much now, but how did you end up caught by
slave traders anyway?” Freya asked.
Ali had already said before that pointless conversations were just
wastes of energy, but perhaps out of boredom, the goddess walking
out in front started a new one anyway.
“…It was in order to escape from Warsa’s army. While our forces
were routed and being scattered, I ran into a gang of slavers and

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intentionally allowed myself to be caught,” Ali finally gave in and
responded.
“Intentionally? That’s quite brave of you.”
“It’s just that I didn’t have any other way of escaping…I cast aside the
royal family’s armor and clothes and pretended to be a powerless
little girl to avoid detection. In that situation, I needed to prioritize
surviving, even if I ended up suffering badly in the short term. With
the royal line in the balance…other concerns don’t measure up.”
Ali paused, hesitating before she finished her thought, but Freya,
who was undoubtedly listening closely, said nothing in response
The sun beat down on the goddess, the girl, and their camels as their
shadows grew longer. They paused a few times along the way to
drink from a leather water bag to wet their throats. No matter how
long they walked, the scenery did not change at all. Sand dunes just
continued off into the distance. From time to time, they came across
bleached skeletons along their path—either animals that had not
been able to keep going or perhaps drop items from monsters.
Though Ali suspected they were probably the latter.
The desert was wide. Even Ali, who had lived there all her life, was
starting to wonder whether there would ever be an end to the sea of
sand stretching to the horizon.
“—Tch!”
Along the way, monsters attacked them several times. And every
time, Allen’s silver spear ended those monsters’ lives. His boots
would leap off the ground, and while the kicked-up sand was still
flying into the air, it would be accompanied by a spray of blood and
the beasts’ cries.
By the time Ali could sense the monsters’ presence, they were
annihilated, over and over again. It was a gust of wind accompanied
by the slightest cloud of dust. Desert lizards’ heads were sent flying,

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sand scorpions were dismembered, and vulture hunters’ wings were
clipped and then skewered. She could not even really make out the
afterimages of the nimble wild-fighting cat. Even so, though, Ali
could not help but be amazed that mortals could become so strong,
so overwhelming.
And she could guess why Freya’s other followers were not showing
themselves. Because Allen was the fastest of them all. Thanks to
that, he could protect their patron goddess the most effectively with
the minimal chance of danger. That was why the others were leaving
the direct combat to him and were probably just keeping an eye on
their surroundings. Though Ali could not say whether that was
because of the trust they had in one another or because of the
reality of the situation they could do nothing other than
acknowledge.
“Quit starin’ at me, you shitty brat. It’s pissing me off.”
“Wh-what…?!
Catching a glimpse of Freya Familia’s awesomeness—
fearsomeness—Ali had been staring at Allen’s face as he finished up
his latest round of combat.
She was tempted to shout back, Who’s the brat? It’s not like I’m any
shorter than you! but she stopped herself right before those words
crossed her lips. She had a feeling that that might have broken a
taboo. That she might find herself mercilessly torn to pieces if she
finished that thought out loud.
“…Why do you go so far for that goddess?”
Instead, what crossed her lips was a simple question born out of
irritation at not being able to respond to his verbal abuse, but—
“Why do I have to tell you anything, asshole?”

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“…Gh! You were pissy before we left the town, and you’ve been pissy
ever since. You just think it’s a pain in the ass to protect your
goddess, don’t you?!” Ali raised her voice in response to his rude
comeback.
Hearing that, Allen just turned his back and responded as if
answering her was the most annoying thing of all.
“In order to be who I am, I’ve offered up my everything—heart and
soul—to serve her.”
“!”
“If I could have my way, I’d chain her up and lock her away indoors,
but if I did that, she would lose what makes her who she is. Just like I
would lose what makes me, me. So everything just goes smoother
when I’m pissed off at the annoyance. That’s all.”
Ali experienced a not-insignificant shock at the catman’s response.
Her attitude is the worst, and her personality is atrocious…but just
how much charisma must that goddess have to get such a powerful
follower to go that far for her…
Oddly enough, it was almost a demonstration of the difference
between Ali and Freya as sovereigns. On the one hand, Ali had been
separated from her allies and caught by slavers; while on the other,
the goddess was behaving every part the queen wielding the loyalty
of elite retainers. It left Ali lamenting just how much she still needed
to grow as a ruler.
There were certainly retainers who would follow Ali—or rather the
prince Aram. And they would gladly do whatever they could to
support Aram. But put another way, Ali had not done anything
herself. It was also taken care of by adept and knowledgeable
retainers. All she did was hand down orders. No, not even that, since
she could not really say with any certainty whether those orders
were even really guiding them. If she had not provided the directions

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she had, maybe the capital would not have fallen, and they would
not have been routed so badly.
A figurehead prince. That was Ali’s assessment of herself. Hiding her
own gender, unable to reveal her true self. And perhaps provoked by
that feeling of inferiority, Ali subconsciously found herself asking—
“…Why are you all so loyal to her?”
“…What?” Allen froze as he was walking back to his guard post and
then slowly turned around.
“She’s so self-centered. She’s certainly divine in her own way, but
she’s too high-handed. She thinks only of how to best enjoy herself,
smiling smugly as she calls it amusement. It’s not regal at all. It’s
almost like she’s just an enchantress—”
“You should watch yourself. I don’t have permission to rip your
throat out, so quit saying things that will make me kill you.” Allen
spat. There was more of a bite to his tone as his usual annoyance
skyrocketed when she insulted his patron goddess.
However, it was still a quiet annoyance. Not worth the effort to care
about. It brought to mind the image of a cat licking its fur as a mouse
caused a fuss right in front of it. And that fact—that she was not
even worth getting worked up for—caused the blood to rush to Ali’s
head, robbing her of her better senses. Freya, who had been walking
ahead, stopped and looked back as Ali shouted:
“You all are just captivated by her beauty anyway! Just pathetic
puppets enthralled by her charm!”
All of a sudden, Ali was staring up at the sky.
“—Eh?”
It took one second for her to realize what she was looking at. It took
one more second for her to realize that she was lying on her back in

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the sand. And it took a third second for her to sluggishly lift her head
and notice that a spear was being held right in front of her eyes.
“–––––”
And in the fourth second, she finally realized that she was about to
be killed. Allen Fromel had swept her legs out from under her and
had drawn his spear, about to stab it home between her eyes. His icy
gaze was filled with a merciless readiness to kill.
Standing behind him was a boaz warrior holding the shaft of the
spear in place with a single hand. On either side of Ali stood two
elves, one dark and one white, their black sword and rhomphaia
crossed to hold back the spear’s tip. And surrounding the catman
were four prums, their swords all drawn and pointed at the cat’s
neck.
Just as she realized that they were the only reason she was still alive,
Ali broke out into a cold sweat.
“Stop it Allen. You’re going against the Lady’s will.”
Allen was still trying to pierce the girl’s head as Ottar’s deep voice
urged restraint. Allen’s rage would not be quelled. He had no use for
words and was trying to kill Ali with a pure desire to lash out. It was
the fury of someone whose master had been belittled and scorned.
And as Allen’s ferocious gaze stole her breath away, Ali realized it.
Ottar and the others had not stopped Allen because they had
reservations about him murdering her. Quite the opposite. They
were all furious with her, too, but they were stopping him despite
that because it was what their goddess willed.
“Allen, lower your spear,” Freya spoke gently, having watched it all
unfold.
And the catman who had persisted in trying to kill her, even though
his weapon had been stopped, and even though there were blades at
his neck, finally lowered his spear. However, even that movement

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was slow, betraying the mixture of rage and loyalty clashing in his
heart.
“I’m touched that you got so upset for my sake, but you must not get
violent. You’re scaring Ali.”
“…Are you really okay with that?” Allen responded, stifling the
emotion in his voice.
“It’s fine. I’m used to it,” Freya answered with a smile as if there was
really nothing to it.
The goddess walked over and held out her hand. Ali was still in shock
from what had transpired and unconsciously accepted Freya’s hand
and stood up. Ottar and the others lowered their weapons and
silently moved away, returning to their stations.
“Let’s keep going” was all the goddess said, continuing the trip as if
nothing had happened. Her sore bottom seemingly recovered, the
goddess smoothly straddled her camel.
Left behind with the second camel, Ali was frozen in place in awe
when Allen, the only one who had stayed behind, said:
“If you insult us—no, her—again, I will kill you.” Allen glared at Ali,
causing her to recoil, but then his brow furrowed. “If she ever
seriously used her charm, everything would be nothing but a farce,”
he spat.
Ali looked back at Allen’s face in surprise.
“Her going to that town, you, everything. Get a grip. Just how
thoughtless can you get, shit-for-brains?”
“What do you mean…?”
But Allen did not answer. He just shot her one last murderous glare
and disappeared like a mirage. Scrutinizing her surroundings, she still
could not see the Freya Familia members anywhere. Ali awkwardly

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looked forward. Freya was there, riding her camel. Her silver eyes
glanced back at the girl.
Unable to move for a few seconds, Ali finally started following the
goddess as if drawn in by Freya’s back cloaked in a shimmering haze.

They were progressing ever farther north, toward Shalzad’s hidden

fortress along the border. Thanks to the protection from Freya
Familia, all they needed to do was ride their camels, allowing them
to make good progress on the first day. However, after that incident,
Allen did not appear before the two of them again. The dark elf,
Hegni, took the role of exterminating the monsters in their path in
his stead. The way he cut countless monsters in half with a single
flash of his black sword was different from how Allen handled them
but no less intense than the cat’s technique. Meanwhile, with Allen
no longer appearing, Ali was at a loss for words, unable to explain
the swirl of feelings filling her chest.
The sun high up in the sky gradually started to sink, painting the
western sky a vivid palette of colors as evening finally began to set. A
golden crescent moon appeared high in the sky.
“Oh, it’s a much nicer oasis than I was expecting.”
They had reached one of the small oases connecting north to the
border and gotten there earlier than expected. It was surrounded by
small sand dunes, palm trees, and other greenery. There were no
signs of anyone else. They were the only travelers staying there that
night. It was no match for the one in Leodo, but it was
understandable Freya might call it cute.
“Let’s eat. I’m getting hungry” was Freya’s first comment after they
tied their camels to trees. Apparently even she could get tired from
traveling through the desert.
“…Okay,” Ali said as she looked around the surroundings.

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There was no trace of the goddess’s familia. Perhaps because of
Freya’s admonition, they apparently had no intention of disrupting
the two of them during their journey together.
“You take care of the preparations, please. I’m not very good at
cooking.”
“Okay…”
“And not just dried meat, please. I want some fruit to eat, too.”
“Okay…”
“Actually, the truth is I’ve never held anything heavier than a pan. So
I’m counting on you to feed me.”
“Okay…”
“……”
Absentminded, half-hearted replies. The girl could not even manage
a proper conversation as she prepared some food for dinner. Even
when Freya intentionally added in little jabs to get a rise out of her,
Ali did not get angry or shout or even respond at all. Disappointed in
the lack of response, Freya just sighed in boredom. And after they
had finished eating—
“Ali, I’m going swimming.”
“Okay……Wait, what?”
That was enough to finally get Ali to snap out of her trance. She
stopped moving, doubting her ears as Freya’s lips curled into a smile.
“I’m going swimming. In this oasis.”
“Wh-where’d that come from all of a sudden?!”
“Ever since earlier, you haven’t strung together more than a couple
words. It’s partially Allen’s fault, but at this rate I’m going to die from

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boredom. So if you won’t talk with me, then I’m going to go
swimming.”
There was a sound almost like a catman snorting in annoyance that
reached Ali’s ears, but she did not have the presence of mind to
react to that as she turned on the goddess, who was fishing for
something in her bags.
“O-oases are the common bounty of all travelers! They’re not
something to dirty in order to clean yourself!!”
“Nothing unclean can come off a deusdea, though? But if it bothers
you that much, then we can just use the magic-stone items I bought.
This tool is for filtering water, so the water will be even cleaner than
it was before we used it.”
“Th-the nights are cold in the desert! It’s already pretty cold as it is!
You’ll freeze if you bathe yourself in the water!”
“There’s a magic-stone item for that, too. I made sure to get it at the
bazaar before we left.”
The goddess met each and every one of the complaints that Ali
threw out with magic-stone items. The goddess who lived in the one
and only Labyrinth City in the world pulled the magic-stone items
made in that city from her bags one after the other, as if raising a
toast to Orario.
—I thought the bags were a little heavy, but this is what she
bought?!
Ali was in danger of forgetting the situation she was in and exploding
in frustration.
The item that looked at first glance like a largeish lantern was
actually a kind of stove. It had both lighting and heating functions
combined in one item, and the model Freya bought was both

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compact and high-spec, trading that convenience for a relatively
short life span. Incidentally, it was also unbelievably expensive.
Grrr, buying such a frivolous item, even though the ironclad rule of
traveling in the desert is that water is the most important thing, with
food a close second!
“If I put it next to the water’s edge…see, it gets warm!”
She placed several torches at intervals along the edge of the oasis
and then turned them on. After a short while, the air, which was
uncomfortable without insulating clothes, suddenly warmed up
significantly. At that temperature, it would definitely be possible to
go swimming. And on top of that, perhaps because Freya had
messed with some setting, the torches started randomly shifting
between blue, purple, and yellow lights.
“Once is enough, but I just had to have a desert oasis all to myself…I
so wanted to try turning it into a night pool.”
You had this freaking planned from the start!
Thanks to the shine of the magic-stone lamps, the tranquil night
scene of the oasis turned into a resplendent spring that reeked of
man-made modifications. It was certainly a new and different scene.
One that she could acknowledge was befitting the “night pool” that
the goddess spoke of.
But she has to be the only one in the world who would think to do
a night pool in the desert.
“—Wait, you’re really going to take your clothes off?!” Ali shouted,
turning red as the goddess unhesitatingly began to strip.
“We’re both girls, so there’s nothing to hide, right? Besides, we’re
the only ones here.”
“B-but what if someone tried to peep…!”
“Don’t worry. Right now, this is the safest oasis in the world.”

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Ali was stunned by the goddess’s boast, but she readily accepted it.
Freya Familia was standing guard. Forget thieves or monsters, they
would never allow anyone to lay even a single eye on their goddess
bathing. The small oasis had already transformed into an
impenetrable fortress, a one-hundred-meder-diameter zone that no
one would ever be allowed to enter.
“…gh!”
Undoing the rings holding her lower skirt up, the goddess let the
black skirt fall to the ground and removed her white dress. Ali
immediately looked away as the alluring goddess undressed herself.
Her voluptuous breasts broke free, and a lock of her silver hair rested
atop them. It was clear from a glance just how soft the round butt
that revealed itself was. And it went without saying, of course, that
the goddess’s skin was vibrant and sensuous.
It was an otherworldly nude form. Ali was on the verge of being
entranced by it despite herself, almost gulping audibly at the sight.
It’s almost like I really am some naive, inexperienced prince!
“Woo, it’s cold, but…it feels good!”
Meanwhile, Freya had jumped straight into the pool without
hesitation. The splash of water lit by the light of the lamps twinkled
like jewels in the air. As the goddess played and the water sparkled in
a rainbow of colors, she really did look like she was in a world of
gems, an owner of a beauty that was truly not of this world.
“…Sheesh, no consideration at all for others…” Ali sighed as she sat
on the edge of the water and watched the goddess splashing around
in the water.
Sitting cross-legged with her cheek propped up by her hand, she
looked at Freya and the oasis. She did not realize it herself, but she
was sitting in the seat that many a man or god in the world would kill
to have. Freya was beautiful. Utterly and incomparably beautiful. The

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way she looked swimming around, the way she lifted a handful of
water over her head, the laughing voice that crossed her lips. The
oasis had already become the goddess’s personal slice of paradise.
Countless people would probably be filled with bliss just by seeing it.
The way the desert’s night breeze rustled the trees, it seemed to be
overcome with emotion at the scene. And the way the moon hung in
the night sky shining down almost seemed as if it was blessing the
goddess.
“…So she can smile like that, too?”
At the slave market, she had behaved like a detached, tyrannical
queen. And during the journey here, she had taken quite a bit of
pleasure in constantly teasing Ali, the quintessential goddess’s
demeanor. And now, her smile was like that of an innocent girl. She
was just simply enjoying herself in the oasis of a foreign country—
living in the moment. Ali was nearly certain it was a smile she did not
show in the Labyrinth City. A side of the goddess that could only be
seen here, in this time and place. A side of the goddess that perhaps
no one other than Ali had ever seen.
Ali was seeing more and more of Freya, sides that she had not even
imagined, and it was flustering her. She felt that Freya was truly
divine. She was both a queen and a girl, two sides of the same coin.
She was like a capricious wind, and Ali could not pin her down.
“Hey, Ali? What are you sitting there worrying about?”
“…! Wh-what are you talking about?”
Ali had gotten lost in thought as the scene before her stole her
attention, but Freya’s question dragged her back to reality as she
feigned composure.
“I can see the radiance of souls. And right now, yours is faintly
clouded.”
“Gh…”

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“It has been since before your quarrel with Allen. It was even when I
first met you. Something has been troubling you,” Freya said without
looking at her, still playing in the water.
Ali stirred as her deepest thoughts were laid bare. She suspected
that the goddess knew what was in her heart better than she did
herself. Freya glanced over as Ali pursed her lips, not attempting to
respond.
“Ali, do you know why I left Orario?” Freya unexpectedly changed
the topic.
“Hmm?” Ali glanced up, seeing that the goddess had lain down,
floating on the water.
“I came to this desert in search of a companion…to find my fated
partner.”
“—So it really is just about sex, then!” Ali shouted back in a loud
voice, the serenity of the moment broken by Freya’s silly reason.
“Don’t ruin the mood right when I was starting to have a little faith in
you!” she shouted, but Freya paid it no heed as she started
swimming slowly on her back.
“I wanted to see if there was a child—a soul—in this world that could
suit me. And I found you. Noble and beautiful, dazzling like
amethyst.”
The goddess’s breasts floated like peaches on the surface of the
water, as if emphasizing their volume. Her entire body was a lethal
weapon that could be wielded against any man or woman. Ali had
long since abandoned any illusions of going through life as a woman,
but she still could not help glaring a bit at such a prominent
demonstration of something she could not have herself.
“Ali, you with your beautiful soul might be able to become my Odr.”
“I’m a woman just like you are!”

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“That doesn’t matter in the face of love.”
“Quit just saying whatever you want. Jerk…”
“That’s why I want to clear away whatever it is that’s clouding your
radiant soul.”
“!”
“I want you to overcome that listlessness and shine even brighter.”
Those words, spoken as Freya floated on the surface of the water
and looked up at the desert night sky, caused Ali’s eyes to widen. The
goddess lying there, rocking in a cradle of water as the moonlight
shone down, seemed to be saying, If you want to talk to me, then go
ahead. I’ll listen and even grant you an oracle.
Ali was silent for a little while before finally speaking up.
“…I’m consumed by doubt about myself as the prince,” she gradually
started to explain. “Am I really adequate to bear the weight of my
country’s future? Can I truly become a proper king? Can I fulfill my
duty and leave an heir to continue the line?”
“That’s a pretty common concern. All those who call themselves
royalty will face it at one point or another.”
“I know. But, I can’t help but wonder. If I had been more suited to
ruling when Warsa attacked, would the capital have not fallen?
Would all my innocent countrymen currently suffering be better
off?”
“…”
“Warsa is strong. No matter what we did, there was no stopping that
invasion. I understand that logically. But I still…”
Those were the words of the girl Ali, not the prince Aram. That was
the anguish that had always gripped her. The true nature of the
unease she felt. Her trip with Freya had been too distant from

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danger, too peaceful, so she could almost forget it, but the blood of
her people, her country, was still flowing, even at that very moment.
The valiant generals were still resisting, and the people were still
being trampled. And with her father dead, she could not change that
course. On top of all that, it had taken all she could muster to allow
her allies to flee while acting as bait and then escaping by letting
herself be captured by slave traders.
“With my country being ravaged right now, closer to the edge of the
abyss than ever before, I find myself thinking again how all I can do is
just impatiently stand by and watch.” Ali looked down as she finally
aired all of the concerns that had been bothering her.
She could not help thinking how small and pathetic she was for
whining like that. As she fell silent, it felt like the oasis itself was
laughing scornfully at her. She was sure she could see the goddess’s
followers’ sneers, and that hallucination shaved away at her
confidence even further. Having admitted her own incompetence, Ali
felt more ashamed than at any other point in her short life.
“Everyone will tell you that a king is a being who stands alone,” the
goddess spoke. “And everyone admires kings for their isolation.”
“…?”
“It’s obvious, really. Because to be a king means that you cannot pass
your responsibility on to anyone else.”
It was as if she was saying that a king who tried to share
responsibility, to share decisions, was not fit to be king. Ali looked
over and Freya was stretching a hand up to the sky as she floated on
the water. As if she were tenderly caressing the outline of the moon
shining all alone by itself in the sky.
“So worrying like this, suffering like this, is perfectly healthy.
“There’s nothing wrong about what you are feeling. It’s the same
wall that countless other kings have been faced with.”

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The goddess’s voice echoed, as if comforting Ali, who had felt so
ashamed of herself.
“So let me tell you something obvious, Ali.”
Freya stood up, planting her feet on the ground and facing away
from Ali as everything from her waist up was visible out of the water.
And, as if in time with her movement, the magic-stone lamps ran out
of power and switched off. The moment the sparkling lights cut out,
the oasis was consumed by darkness. The only thing outlining the
goddess was the pale light of the moon. Time stopped for Ali as she
looked at Freya’s back.
“Just be yourself. Stop worrying about what others think of you.
Don’t mistake all the burdens you are bearing for your own
weakness. And before cursing your own powerlessness, stand and
face the reality before you.”
The goddess’s sweet voice. The tranquility of the desert. The cool
moonlight and the lapping waves on the surface of the water. The
oasis had transformed into its own little world, a small domain of
profound mystery. And that dreamlike scene stole Ali’s sight, her
consciousness, and even her soul.
“Live nobly and resolutely.—Like a hero.”
The goddess looked toward Ali. Drops of water ran across her skin
and the silver hair covering her back swayed. Ali’s widened eyes met
the goddess’s gaze.
“Even if you fail and your country is destroyed…even if everyone
comes to resent you…we gods will praise you.”
Without realizing it, Ali had stood up. Freya’s voice, her eyes, her
smile—they all had drawn her in, pulling her to her feet.
“We will celebrate those decisive kings who bear that lonely pain
that none can understand without turning their back on it.”

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Neither the prince Aram Raza Shalzad nor the girl Ali would ever
forget that scene. The moonlit moment when they touched upon the
most beautiful thing in the world, the goddess Freya’s divine will.
“You resisted my beauty of your own volition in order to sacrifice
yourself. The radiance of your soul in that moment captivated me. So
take pride—”
“…”
“—because you really do have the makings of a king.”
Perhaps Freya had been trying to teach Ali that all along during the
trip. Even if it was only calculated to increase the brilliance of her
soul, Freya had probably been trying to guide her. Ali thought back to
their earlier interactions. Freya had always been teasing her, but
there was a meaning hidden in everything she said. She had a deity’s
point of view, but her gaze was almost motherly.
The naked goddess’s unvarnished words caused Ali’s chest to
tighten.
“Ali? I want to embrace you. A you who shines even brighter than
you do now.”
“I…am a prince. I cannot reciprocate your affection,” Ali struggled to
respond, saying nothing more than that.
“A wonderful answer. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The goddess’s voice and expression were gentle. The breeze blew
between the two of them. It was a cool night breeze, filled with
grains of sand. The wind of the desert. It was utterly familiar to Ali,
but to Freya it was a new and fresh experience. As if provoked by the
wind stirring up waves in the water, Ali drew her shoulders back.
And then kicked off the ground.
“!”

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Freya was surprised as Ali leaped into the oasis, still wearing her
clothes. She swam underwater with all her might, as if washing away
all the restraints holding her back, as if wiping away all the idle
doubts filling her heart. Taking off her shoes and top, Ali felt her
body became more and more free. Finally, she sunk all the way to
the bottom of the pool and kicked off the ground, breaking free from
the surface with a splash.
Catching her breath and shaking her head, Ali realized the goddess
was right in front of her and not very far away. For once, Freya
looked visibly surprised.
“Umm…I’m sorry!” she shouted as she pulled her hair back, her
soaked undergarments clinging to her brown skin. “I lost my temper
like a child! As your follower said, I insulted you!”
There were still too many complex feelings swirling in Ali’s heart for
her to be able to express her gratitude to the goddess who had
illuminated her heart, but even so, she could at least apologize, so
she honestly conveyed the feeling that had been gnawing away at
her since earlier.
“…Hee-hee, ah-ha-ha-ha! What, that?! That was still bothering you?”
“I-it’s important to me to take responsibility for my mistakes!”
“Don’t worry about it. I said before, I’m used to it.”
The goddess’s laughter rang out from the center of the oasis. Ali
realized she had been unconsciously biting her lip as she finally
managed to relax.
“Your clouded soul has gotten a tiny bit clearer. At this rate, it will
shine even brighter.”
Still just saying whatever she pleased, Freya turned around and
walked to the shore. Ali watched her as she placed a hand on her

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chest. Her clouded soul had gotten a little clearer. That also meant
there was still some hesitation left.
The misgivings plaguing her had not entirely been resolved.
Hardships were sure to continue. And there would undoubtedly be
many more times where she would not be able to forgive herself.
But, for today, she would try to live as the goddess had said—nobly
and resolutely, heroically.
That was what she thought as she looked up at the solitary crescent
moon shining high in the night sky.

“What’s going on with the search for Prince Aram?!”

A deep, manly voice boomed out in the tent city constructed in the
conquered capital of Shalzad, Solshana. The man’s name was Gorza,
the general commanding the Warsa army that had invaded Shalzad.
At just short of two meders tall and with his commanding presence
and burly figure, he looked every part a great general. He had deep
brown skin and the air of a fabled desert warrior.
“W-we still have not been able to determine his
whereabouts…However, it is known that he was among the enemy
forces we clashed with and routed in the south of Shalzad…”
“Fool! We have to find him! Shalzad is a country that reveres their
royal family! If we don’t hunt down every last member, this war will
never end!”
The soldier fell back in the face of Gorza’s thunderous shout.
Despite the fact that they had lost their king and their capital had
fallen, Shalzad forces were still continuing to fight back all around
the country. Their resistance was entirely due to the generals holding
on to the single thread of hope embodied with Prince Aram, who

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would become the next king. As long as the enemy still rallied behind
the prince, the resistance would continue.
For Warsa, who had planned a lightning strike, the war dragging on
was terrible news. Both in the obvious sense that it exhausted the
country and because their country risked being targeted by its
neighbors given how many troops it had committed to carrying out
the invasion. Part of the reason no country had emerged as the
dominant force in this part of the western Kaios was because the
cluster of countries here would never allow a neighbor to rise to the
top and were always watching for the opportunity to strike.
“At Serein, in the north of Shalzad, an elite division is attempting to
push back our forces. If we don’t do something soon, they might
break through…!”
The country of Warsa was in a particularly poor position in the
desert, so it had to resort to pillaging and violence to get by. Shalzad,
with its enormous belt of oases, had always been a juicy target for
them and a territory they could not afford to let slip away. Just
stealing a piece of land and not finishing the job would be
unacceptable.
We have to force Shalzad to accept defeat. If we can’t even do that
much, then why did we join hands with that scourge—
“Heeeeeeeeeeeeeey! Resheph enters stage right! How’s the war
going, General Gorza? ☆”
Just as Gorza was groaning to himself, a single god with long black
hair tied back appeared in the tent.
“Wh-why are you here, Lord Resheph?!”
“What do you mean? I’m the patron god of the familia, right? It’s
part of the job description to at least show my face!”
The god was accompanied by a male elf, one of his followers.

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He was a relatively short god, even when not compared to such a
giant of a man as Gorza. He wore a hat that was pointed at the front,
like an arrowhead. And though he was a deity, his insincerity was
plain to see. No sane person would ever consider following him.
“You should have gotten word to pin down the enemy forces putting
up a resistance in the northwest! So why are you here?!”
Warsa’s royal family had been unable to contain their displeasure
with the familia that was formerly in charge of their military for
never being able to invade Shalzad, so they had summoned a
different familia from outside the desert. Resheph Familia had been
the ones to answer their call. A god and followers who were not even
born in the desert, they had been charged with the most recent
attack on Shalzad. And the results were self-evident. They had
broken through the enemy’s defensive line that Gorza’s army had
not been able to break for years and even toppled the capital. There
was probably a days-long feast in celebration going on in Warsa right
at that very moment. However—
Our country may have no talent beyond raiding, but compared to
them?! Burning the villages, pillaging, rape! Resheph’s followers lay
waste to everything in their path! It was like the work of devils! To
think I’d see the day where I’d feel pity for the accursed Shalzad…!
An atrocity. That word alone was enough to describe Resheph
Familia.
Gorza, who had been chosen as the overall commander of the forces,
could be called the buffer between the existing army and Resheph
Familia. He was the one who drew the short straw to try to keep
them from getting too out of control.
“I’m aware I’m a mere mortal, but as the representative of my
patron god who stayed behind in Warsa to protect the capital, I hope
you can please accept my instruct—”

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“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here ’cause I murdered the shit out of the
enemy already. ☆”
Gorza and all the other soldiers around froze as Resheph cackled.
“The ones you were saying were strong—at Serein, was it? We
slaughtered the soldiers there. Just straight up genocided the lot of
’em! So where’s my reward? Ha-ha-ha!”
Gorza was at a loss for words. And as if to confirm what the god was
saying, a soldier frantically dashed into the tent to report that the
enemy forces near Serein had been wiped out. It took everything
Gorza had not to keep his giant body from staggering back in shock.
The main forces of Resheph Familia were all elites who had leveled
up at least once. There were not too many people in the desert
realms who could measure up in terms of pure strength, and theirs
was a familia full of them. Gorza should have known that. He did
know that. But even so, that report was just too—
“Since we’ve got nothing else to do, can we join in with the search
for Prince Aram? We can help out torturing whoever is hiding him.
☆”
“…! Wait! You should deal with the remnant forces—”
“There’s basically none left. The resistance is on death’s door
already, so you can take care of that yourself. If you can’t even do
that much, then there’s no choice but to judge you to be as
incompetent as your patron god. ☆”
Gorza’s cheek twitched as the god laughed mischievously.
“The prince was near the southern front when you lost track of him,
right? So he probably fled to Israfan. Maybe he even disguised
himself as a slave to blend in?”
He was lacking in dignity and grace, but there was still no mistaking
the fact that Resheph was a deity. He was more than capable of

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gauging the state of a game board, even with only the slightest bit of
information.
“Let’s put a little fire to the feet of Israfan. If he’s a good little prince,
he’ll rush forward all teary-eyed to announce himself!”
“Don’t, Lord Resheph! We can’t afford to drag a third country into
this!”
“Come on, man, the king is getting on your case to end the war
already, isn’t he? So just leave it to us. My kids will murder everyone
who gets in the way. Every last one of them!”
There was a chilling grin on Resheph’s face as he left the camp with
his follower.
“Pestilent beast!” Once the god had left the encampment, Gorza’s
shout was loud enough to cause the soldiers to shrink back again.
Currently many of the soldiers of Warsa were being drawn to the
strength of Resheph’s followers, entranced by that power and
swearing to convert over to his familia. The army had always been
wild to begin with, but it was becoming less and less controllable by
the day and could barely even be called an army anymore.
And with regard to the proposed assault on Israfan, even if Gorza
handed down a strict order not to carry it out, there would be many
people who went ahead with it anyway because of Resheph’s
instigations. Gorza was little more than commander in name only.
The vile god was just spreading the flames of war for entertainment.
For Warsa and for Shalzad, Resheph was assuredly a country-
destroying pestilence. Gorza’s boulder-like fists trembled as he was
convinced again that that god would bring chaos to the desert world.

They finally spotted the fortress on the border three days after they
set out from Leodo. The scenery of sand dunes had long since

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disappeared. The area around the border was a rocky hamada. It was
a craggy valley region with boulders scattered all around.
“There it is! That’s where the hidden fortress is!” Ali shouted from
astride her camel. She was pointing to a bunch of rocks that soared
into the air like a mountain. Perhaps because she had been there
before, a confident smile filled with joy at the end of their journey
crossed her face as she looked at the location that appeared at a
glance like a little more than a pile of rocks.
“…”
Meanwhile, Freya furrowed her brow. Her vision was excellent, more
than capable of distinguishing individual souls’ glimmers from the
top floor of Babel in Orario, and her silver eyes had noticed
something strange.
“Alfrik.”
“Yes, I see it.”
Immediately responding to her call, the prum warrior materialized
out of the shadows. As Ali looked in shock, the eldest Gulliver
brother lifted the faceguard of his sand-colored helm, revealing his
blue eyes that narrowed as he looked into the distance. Prums had
the best vision of all demi-humans, and he confirmed the goddess’s
suspicions.
“It’s faint, but there are traces of magic particles. And there is a smell
of blood in the wind.”
“…Huh?”
Initially a look of confusion crossed Ali’s face as she listened to Alfrik.
But realizing what he was implying, she turned pale and urged her
camel into a run. Freya and Alfrik followed behind her.
Dismounting at the foot of the towering bedrock, she ran up the
gentle slope that resembled a trench. The moment she crossed

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through the entry cave and set foot in the fortress, she was greeted
by the smell of burned flesh and the sight of countless corpses
scattered around the floor in a pool of blood.
“No…but that’s—?!” Ali screamed.
The inside of the fortress was horrifying. There were signs of
resistance, but every last one of Shalzad’s soldiers had been
mercilessly slaughtered. Cut by swords, run through by spears,
scorched by magic. The armored corpses told a mortifying story with
their wounds on full display. Tables, chairs, weapons lining the wall—
everything had been overturned and trampled.
“Aaaah, aaargh?! Douglas! This can’t be true! Not like this…!”
Ali ran to one of the fallen officers, reaching a hand out to his body,
but it was already cold. His eyes would never open again. Ali cried as
she embraced the corpse that had lost an arm and been impaled
through the chest.
“The enemy attacked with magic indiscriminately and then charged
in, taking advantage of the confusion among the fortress’s
forces…They are experienced in conducting surprise attacks. It seems
clear the perpetrators were the aforementioned Warsa troops,”
Alfrik said, calmly analyzing the cruel scene of the fortress while Ali
collapsed in tears.
“How many people carried this out?” Freya asked.
The remaining three prum brothers, who had immediately examined
the surroundings of the fortress, appeared.
“Likely around fifty. They were also lying in wait at the hidden
passage in the rear where they loosed a fusillade of arrows at those
who tried to flee,” reported Dvalinn.
“The majority of them were riffraff, but there was likely at least one
who was skilled,” added Berling.

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“Some of the magic remnants are a bit stronger. Perhaps someone
who has leveled up,” Grer said, before adding, “Also, inside the
fortress…there are characters written in blood.”
As Ali looked up, tears still streaming down her face, Freya asked
Grer to lead her to the room. The place he took her was likely the
command center. The Shalzad flag, a crescent moon and wreath of
jasmine, hung on the wall, torn tragically apart, and in its place, a
message was written in the blood of one of the soldiers.
“Come forward, Prince Aram. If you don’t, Israfan will be consumed
by a sea of flames…”
Ali read the words written in blood, covering her mouth as she
struggled not to vomit at the repulsive deed. Perhaps it was because
of a merchant’s report or perhaps it was just the keen insight of a
god, but either way Warsa had apparently realized that Aram had
headed for Israfan. And—
“Leodo will be the first warning…”
Freya’s eyes arrived at the final passage of blood. She had not been
shaken at all by anything else, but that line caused her to suppress
her emotions. Her frozen eyes narrowed as she turned on her heels.
“We’re going.”
“Wh…wh-where?”
“Leodo, obviously,” Freya responded without any hesitation.
Ali had not recovered yet from the shock of the all the soldiers who
had been killed as she tried to keep up.
“B-but the enemy left here long ago. We must have crossed paths
somewhere along the way. Even if we chase them, we won’t make it
in time…!”
“That’s irrelevant,” she said, disregarding the words Ali struggled to
get out. She took Ali’s hand as she headed for the fortress’s exit. “It’s

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unfortunate, but we’re leaving the camels here. Tell Ottar to carry
me and Allen to carry Ali.”
“That stupid cat will probably complain about not wanting anyone
other than Lady Freya to touch him.”
“Tell him I will never again ride a chariot that won’t do as it’s told.”
““““Understood.””””
Four sets of footsteps rang out as the Gulliver brothers
acknowledged their orders. Freya and Ali would be departing from
the hidden fortress without delay.

The boaz carrying a goddess under his arm, the cat person with a
look of an annoyance on his face and a girl over his right shoulder,
and the other first-tier adventurers accompanying them were all
moving at extreme speed. They sprinted across a distance that had
taken camels three days in just a few hours. Leodo came into view
before the sun had even started to rise. Even though she had been
complaining quite loudly about being handled like luggage, Ali could
not hide her shock at how quickly they arrived.
But even so, it was already too late.
“Th-the town…?!”
Leodo was ablaze. The red flames and smoke beneath the desert’s
night sky looked like a funeral pyre. The lamentations of women and
children filled the air, and the shouts begging for mercy were
probably the merchants’.
When they reached the northern gate, Ali scrambled toward the
center of the town. Freya and her familia followed behind her. On
the way, they discovered that the bazaar had been wrecked before
being set ablaze. The colorful goods that had been so pleasing to

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Freya’s eyes before were scattered all over, interspersed with the
corpses lying everywhere.
There were no survivors anywhere to be seen, but screams could be
heard coming from the center of the town. Ali could not keep herself
from trembling as she saw the carnage. The results of her actions
were laid out before her.
The people of an entirely uninvolved country were attacked, all
because of me. Because I came here!
She despaired but did not allow herself to fall apart there. The
goddess striding through the town as she looked around would not
allow it.
“Even the oasis…” Ali whispered.
The giant emerald blue oasis still fresh in her mind was now crimson
with blood. Freya and her procession crossed the bridge to the island
at the heart of the oasis. There were many residents of the town
who had been cornered there after fleeing from the burning bazaars.
And the inhumane soldiers of Warsa were also there, having chased
down the residents to amuse themselves. Ali was frozen in shock at
the hideous scene as a figure ran toward them.
“L-Lady Freyaaaaaaa!” It was the merchant Bofman, his clothes
scorched here and there. “You’ve returned?! P-please! Please save
us!”
“Situation report first.” “Make it fast.” “What of Lady Freya’s
property?”
The Gulliver brothers stood in front of the goddess, blocking the way.
Bofman recoiled from the memory of their punishment and
explained himself, driven by a fear even greater than they evoked.
“W-Warsa’s forces suddenly attacked and broke through the city’s
defense! They started burning the town without announcing any

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demands or accepting any negotiations! They just pillaged
everything, demanding to know where Prince Aram was and killing
those who could not answer them…!” Bofman responded with a
torrent of words, his shoulders heaving as he knelt on the ground. He
timidly looked up at the goddess, who had not glanced at him even
once, struggling to finish his report. “Lady Freya’s property,
too…Warsa broke into the manor…the former slaves are already…”
Freya did not hear the rest as he finished by explaining he had been
running away with the rest of the employees of the Fazoul Trading
Company. She proceeded down the path to the oasis mansion.
Strewn across the path were two bodies. The young boy and girl
whom she had freed from the slave’s collar, who had asked to
become her followers.
“…”
They were clinging to each other, lying in a pool of blood. Their eyes
were wide, and tears and blood had streamed down their cheeks.
Freya silently lowered a hand over their faces and closed their eyes,
without any concern about getting her hand dirty.
They had clearly tried to let the others get away, since there were
many others collapsed farther down the path. All of them former
slaves that Freya had freed. And every last one of them had been
killed. There was no emotion on the goddess’s face.
“Stop…Stop iiiiiiiiiiiit!” Ali’s scream resounded.
Tears were streaming down her face as she took in the scene. Her
shout was filled with a rage that seared her body as she broke
through the grief.
“Who’s there?!”
The attackers noticed Ali’s scream as well as Ottar and the others,
who were armed and ready for battle. The people who had torched
the town gathered. They were soldiers wearing official uniforms.

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“Warsa…!” Ali growled, her voice filled with loathing.
“Purple eyes…could it be Prince Aram?! Ha-ha-ha-ha, that’s Lord
Resheph for you! His eyes really are all-seeing!” A masculine human
wearing a cape laughed.
He had higher quality armor than the average soldiers, and he was
wielding a mage’s staff. He was probably the skilled magic user who
had led the troops that assaulted the fortress that the Gulliver
brothers had mentioned.
“I am the warrior Marzner, who has been blessed by the god
Resheph! Surrender, Prince Aram! If you don’t, I, who have leveled
up, shall burn everything before me! Behold my Level Two—”
While Marzner haughtily bragged of his strength, Ali pierced him
with a wrath-filled gaze, and Allen and the other adventurers
watched with a dry look that did not even rise to the level of disgust,
a single deity stepped forward. The goddess’s silver hair swayed.
“Lady Freya!”
“…? You’re…”
Allen and the others tried to warn her it might be dangerous as
Marzner looked at her dubiously. Ali’s eyes widened. Freya stopped
right between both groups. She drew the eyes of every last one of
the Warsa soldiers to her with her beauty. As more and more of
them became entranced, their eyes started to crawl over her body,
their vulgar thoughts obvious to all. The commander Marzner licked
his lips.
“What business do you have here, Goddess of Beauty?”
“You were the ones who did this, were you not?”
“Indeed. All of it was done in accordance with our Lord Resheph’s
divine will!” Marzner maintained his haughty pose, gesturing
overdramatically as he spoke. “Are you perhaps…displeased?

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Perchance, is a righteous indignation burning you like we burned this
town?” He asked in a jeering tone, not realizing his death was quietly
approaching as he stirred Freya Familia’s murderous ire.
However, Freya rejected his implication without any indication of
caring.
“There’s nothing strange about victims in a war between children. If I
got angry about it or grieved over every victim, there’d be no end to
it.”
“Wh…?!” Ali was rocked by the goddess’s response.
“That’s just how it goes. Nothing to be done about it.”
And her shock was all the stronger because, though it had only been
a short journey, she could tell from the time they had been together
that Freya meant every last bit of what she was saying. Meanwhile,
Marzner was laughing loudly.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! That’s a true goddess for you! No need to beat
around the bush! So could you step aside, please? Our target is
Prince Aram over there—”
However, that was where she cut off the man’s annoying voice.
“But, when it comes to what you stole, that’s a different matter.”
The goddess’s voice was like a crescent blade, silencing everyone
around her. The soldiers and Ali felt a chill as Freya continued.
“Yona, Haara,” she started listing off names.
“…?”
“Anwar, Latifah, Murat, Hicham, Hazid, Sere, Khanna, Ohza, Nacer,
Nadia, Leila, Ruqaiya, Zahir, Karathona—”
The Warsa troops, Marzner, and even Ali were shocked by how
eloquently she listed off so many people’s names. And, just as
Marzner was about to shout something, perhaps irritated by the

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goddess’s seemingly never-ending list, Freya’s tone shifted, reaching
the end of her litany. For the first time, Ali heard an intense power in
her soprano voice.
“Those are the names of my children that you killed.”
A spark shot through Ali’s body.
“I’ve no interest in the victims of war. But those who lay a hand on
my children—on my property—those people I shall never forgive.”
Freya had remembered them. The names of those slaves she had
freed. The faces of those whom she had saved on a whim, who had
praised her name. She remembered every last child whom she had
claimed as her own!
“Wh-what…”
“No one likes having something of theirs taken, right? Whether it’s a
physical item, memories…or even lives.”
Perhaps finally noticing that something strange was going on with
Freya, Marzner became overwhelmed. He pulled back in the face of
her supernatural force and presence.
“So I’m going to have to demand an equivalent recompense.”
Freya’s eyes opened wide. Her silver gaze sparkled bewitchingly. An
eerie divine gravitas emanated from her body.
“–––––gh!”
Allen and the others were the first to react. The strongest
adventurers who were unmoved no matter the situation or the
enemy became visibly nervous.
“Close your eyes!” Allen shouted, paying no heed to appearances.
“Huh?” Ali did not move.

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The cat person growled in annoyance as he leaped to her and
forcibly covered her eyes and ears. Despite her vision and hearing
being cut off, though, Ali could still sense Freya’s divine majesty. It
pierced through everything, as if it had her very soul in its grip.
“Prostrate thyself.”
The heart of every mortal there leaped. Every living being there
trembled. Ali felt her body jerk in response. The billowing flames
trembled, the desert breeze died down, and the moon froze in the
sky. It was the word of god.
However, with that one command, Marzner and the other Warsa
soldiers dropped to the ground, prostrating themselves before the
goddess with a well-trained reaction.
“Ha-ha-ha–––––!”
Freed from Allen’s protection, Ali’s eyes widened as she saw the
bizarre scene of Marzner and the other soldiers obediently kneeling
there in the sand. There was something off about all of them. Their
cheeks were flushed, and drool was dripping from the corners of
their mouths as they peered up at the goddess calmly standing
before them.
There was no longer any vulgar or lecherous thoughts lurking in their
eyes. There was nothing left other than a desire to please the being
before them. They were utterly enthralled. It was as if their souls had
been removed.
“Do you want my love?”
“Y-yes, milady! More than anything in this world! Please, milady!”
“I see. But that’s a problem. I already decided I wouldn’t forgive you.
If I don’t exact some kind of punishment, I won’t be satisfied. How
could I love children such as you?”
“B-but…?!”

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Marzner and the others were being trifled with by the goddess’s
every word, battered by sadness and despair. There was already a
smile on Freya’s face as her silver eyes sparkled, and the witch’s
words continued.
“But I’ve got an idea that might work. If you kill yourselves and wait
for me in heaven, then maybe—”
The next instant, the soldiers’ face warped into manic grins as they
drew their weapons.
“Understood! I’ll be waiting, beloved goddess!”
The tragedy was over in just an instant. The soldiers all slit their own
throats with their swords or else thrust the blades into their chests.
Marzner spun what sounded like a ritual prayer as he pressed his
staff to his throat and cast his spell. There was a flash of light and a
thunderous boom. His smiling head flew high into the air, falling to
the ground before it reached the heavens.
“……What…happened…?” Ali whispered as she trembled at the sight.
There was a synchronized splash of blood and then they all tumbled
to the ground, forming a mountain of corpses. Their eyes were still
rapturous as their souls passed beyond the desert’s sky and raced off
to the heavens. In obedience with Freya’s divine will, they had all
killed themselves. As Ali struggled to remain standing, Allen’s low
voice rang out behind her.
“She charmed them.”
“What…?”
“That is her charm.” His face twisted as he hid the awe he felt toward
his patron goddess.
“What you said before, about how we were all enthralled by her
beauty.”
“That isn’t true at all.”

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“As if.”
“She hasn’t used her charm even once since she first came to this
town.”
The Gulliver brothers chimed in in response.
Time froze for Ali as she realized what they were saying. Freya
hasn’t used her power to charm anyone in the entire time we’ve been
together? So everyone who set eyes on her until now was simply
captivated by her beauty?
The phenomenon that had just shaken Ali’s soul to its core, that was
Freya’s true charm—
“If she were to use her charm…it would put an end to everything.”
“Even we in her familia would become nothing more than puppets.”
Hegni’s and Hedin’s eyes narrowed as they looked at the goddess
before them.
Even the followers who bore Freya’s ichor on their backs were
dizzied by the force of it. And Ali, who had resisted the goddess’s
beauty, would have crumpled over had Allen not protected her.
Incidentally, Bofman had been kicked in the back of the head by
Grer, and his head was half-buried in the ground while the rest of his
body twitched. The bundle of carnal desire managed to avoid being
charmed thanks to the pain and the shock.
“We can crush ten thousand armies. But she…she can seize absolute
control over those same ten thousand armies,” Ottar finished.
The reality of what he was saying left Ali utterly speechless. If Freya
felt like it, she could literally end everything—steal a country, usurp a
throne, even rule the entire mortal realm. Her power was
overwhelming, capable even of affecting beings on the same level as
her. And other than deities and monsters, she could captivate every
being in the mortal realm in an instant. It was absolute domination.

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Not a beauty whose face could launch a thousand ships but a witch
who would rule the world. Her domain extended to as far as her gaze
and voice could carry.
But despite that, the reason Freya did not try to rule everything was
so that she could amuse herself. And more than anything else, it was
out of respect for the mortal realm. Freya understood that there was
nothing more empty, more meaningless than her ability. For what
value was there in effortlessly acquiring everything? If she charmed
everything and moved the whole world according to her whims, it
would be as if the world were dead. That was why she did not use
her charm in matters involving the mortal realm. The one and only
exception was when her divine wrath was incurred.
“So then she…”
Meaning Freya’s charm was invincible. And from everything they
were saying, Ali realized that even what Freya had carried out just
now was not actually serious, which elicited an unstoppable shudder.
—If she ever seriously used her charm, everything would be nothing
but a farce.
She finally understood the true meaning of what Allen had said
during their journey. And why he had gotten so enraged by what she
had said. They had sworn their loyalty to Freya of their own volition.
It had nothing to do with being charmed by her. They were not
puppets in thrall to her but followers who had willingly offered up
everything for her.
“…”
Regaining her composure, Ali looked at the goddess before her who
stood right in front of a fountain of blood and yet had not been
marred by a single drop of it. The soldiers were stained with blood,
every one of them still grinning, still clinging to their faith in her as
they collapsed. It almost evoked the image of a crimson lotus. The

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goddess of beauty stood in the middle of it all, smiling as their souls
began their journeys to the heavens.
“When I go back to the heavens, if I can still remember this day, I’ll
grant you my love. Only if I remember it, though.”
Her smile was that of a queen who mercilessly toys with the souls of
others.

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136 | P a g e
The desert wind brings mirage-like dreams. Particularly on nights
when people are already tossing and turning.
Ali had borne two names from birth: her true name, Ali, and her
royal name, Aram Raza Shalzad.
Her father, King Shalzad, was troubled by the problem of needing a
successor. He had not been blessed with a child by his wife, his
harem, or any of his various mistresses. It troubled him such that he
could even hear voices whispering behind his back about his lack of
an heir, despite the fact that no one was around.
Shalzad was a country that adored its king, and in order to solidify his
support, her father had obsessed over producing an heir. Because of
that, his long-awaited first child, Ali, was given the life of a prince,
despite being born a girl. And because of the teachings of the
country’s founder, queens were not acknowledged in Shalzad, so
Ali’s position was to serve as the last resort until a male heir was
born or until Ali herself could bear a son.
Ali never felt like she was being limited by the burden placed on her,
though. Quite the opposite. She felt a strong sense of duty; a belief
that she must serve as king for her country. The fear of being found
out was something she lived with daily, but until she could bear a
rightful successor, she was determined to fulfill her duty as a
member of the royal family.
“Ali. I’m sorry you were not born a man. I could not even grant you
happiness as a woman—”
Her mother died, leaving those words behind, when Ali was still
young and unable to understand the true meaning of her mother’s
tears. Standing before her mother’s body, she swore, Ali is not
necessary. The one who is needed is Aram—and also, the true prince
of the next generation.

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In the first place, she was nothing more than a placeholder. Her
name would be little more than trivia in the long history of her
country. It was true she had mocked herself for merely being a
placeholder, but she could accept it because she was able to love her
beautiful homeland blessed by oases and the smiles of the people
who lived there more than she cursed her own fate.
She believed that her retainers generally had a good opinion of her.
Both those who knew her secret and those who did not followed
her—or rather him. Aram enjoyed a mostly favorable reception: he
tried to do well, though he had a tendency to spin his wheels
pointlessly because of his deeply rooted sense of justice. And the
generals who actually went out into battle threw themselves into the
fray with the knowledge that he would shed tears for their sacrifice.
She recognized she was raised well. But to her way of thinking, that
did not necessarily mean she was acknowledged as a full-fledged
ruler in her own right. Reality would not wait for Aram’s growth.
“Someday” could not last forever. In time, a tragedy would visit their
land.
When it finally arrived, the capital fell, and innocent citizens were
sacrificed. Those crazed villains had rampaged through the city. And
Ali had been unable to act. Unable to do anything but be dragged
from the capital by her retainers in order to escape.
“Someday.” That naïveté had only invited destruction. She should
have pushed further, harder. From the very moment she decided to
live as Aram. Even if she was nothing more than a placeholder until
the next king was born.
Ali had to make a decision. She needed the resolve to become the
cornerstone for her country.

The day after Warsa’s army had set fire to Leodo.

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Ali had barely slept, and bags were still visible under her eyes. The
merchant Bofman was desperately trying to keep up with her as she
looked around the torched ruins.
The lively merchant town was not even a shadow of its former self.
The north, west, and central bazaars had been burned. The soldiers
left scorched earth in their wake. Apparently they had also set fire to
the port in the south to prevent the prince from escaping. The desert
ships, save a small handful that managed to escape, and even the
warehouses storing goods had all been reduced to cinders. It was an
open question whether the bloodstained oasis would ever return to
normal no matter how much time and effort was spent on rebuilding
it. Ironically, the slave market had been passed over because it did
not have any items in it.
All around the city, there were those whose bodies were covered in
ash, hugging each other and crying at their safe reunions. But there
were just as many kneeling beside corpses, weeping.
If anyone there knew Ali’s identity, if they knew why Warsa had
attacked their town, they would surely have glared at her with eyes
filled with hatred. They would have stoned her.
Ali took in all of the tragic scenes and steeled her will.
She had gone out into the town at daybreak, and night fell by the
time she finished looking at everything. As darkness set in and the
temperature dropped, Ali returned to the oasis mansion at the
center of the city. It had barely managed to escape the fate of the
wider town and was where the goddess was staying after she lost
her children.
“Goddess Freya.”
The manor’s mistress was in her bedroom on the top floor. She was
sitting in a velvet pillowed chair, sipping at a glass of wine, and
looking out the window across the scorched town.

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At her side was the boaz warrior, at the ready like a loyal retainer. Ali
assumed a formal tone and manner, befitting an audience with a
goddess, just like the last time they had met there.
“If it pleases you, I’d like to ask your aid in order to extract
vengeance on the villainous scum of Warsa.”
There was no stopping Warsa at present. Not with the forces Shalzad
and the rest of the western Kaios could bring to bear. The reckless
assault on Israfan—the burning of Leodo had sent shock waves
through the region and tensions were rising, but Warsa itself showed
no signs of being concerned. It was an expression of their confidence
in their own strength—in the strength of Resheph Familia—that they
were not afraid no matter how many countries joined forces against
them.
“I spoke with Bofman and gathered information. Shalzad’s elite
forces in Serein were apparently wiped out just the other day.
Warsa’s military, Resheph Familia, undoubtedly has several kavir. In
this part of the western Kaios, that’s an overwhelming amount of
military power.”
The harsh desert world—though it paled in comparison to Orario—
was capable of producing many Level-2 warriors. And above all,
those who managed to level up a second time, known as kavir, were
a precious resource. So much so that even in the large, powerful
countries along the Nire River, they were promised the status of
general with no strings attached. And Resheph Familia boasted
several of those kavir. Or perhaps warriors even stronger than that.
In the age of deities when quality was superior to quantity, the
enemy’s forces were overpowering.
“I’m aware just how shameless my request is at this point. However,
right now I have no other deity to whom I can turn.”
“…”

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“My country is ravaged, my people victimized, and the flames of war
are now spreading to an entirely neutral country. I brought them into
this. I cannot turn a blind eye to such villainy. So for the sake of
that…I will debase myself as much as I have to. I will pay whatever
price I must.”
The only way she had to repel Warsa’s attacks was by borrowing the
power of the goddess before her eyes.
“I will…offer myself up to you. I shall become the Odr you desire.” Ali
presented herself, stifling the tremble that threatened to creep into
her voice. “I was never anything more than a placeholder until the
next king could be born. If a rightful successor is born, then I can
accept whatever may happen to this body of mine. I will devote my
all to you. So please!”
Ali had steeled her resolve to become a sacrifice in order to save her
homeland, and because she had nothing to her name now, all she
could do was offer herself in return. So that was exactly what she did
in her appeal to the goddess.
“I beseech you, take your followers and—”
Destroy my enemy. But the goddess did not allow her to finish her
request.
“I don’t want to,” she rejected it bluntly.
“Wh—…?!”
“Why do I have to save your country? Why must I be bothered to
have mercy upon the children of the desert?” she said as she sat with
crossed legs.
Ali had no doubt the negotiations would not be simple, but she had
not expected Freya to so adamantly refuse. She should still be upset
about her property—the former slaves—being killed. Ali was about
to press her about whether she had forgiven Warsa already, but

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Freya answered it before she could even ask, as if she already knew
everything in her mind.
“I already punished those who laid hands on my property. They will
despair over the promise that can never be fulfilled before
eventually being purified. I’m satisfied with that.”
“…!”
“I have no obligation or duty to butt into some pointless war. At least
not as far as I’m concerned,” she finished.
Ali was standing there, about to step forward, to ask for any kind of
help, but Freya stopped it with a glance.
“Besides, have you no shame? Clinging to the fact that I’m looking
for my Odr?”
“Gh…?!”
“You didn’t seriously think I would agree to such a boring exchange,
did you?” Freya’s eyes narrowed as she openly expressed her
disappointment for the first time. “Really, Ali? I’m disappointed.”
Scorned for trying to cling to an easy answer, disappointing the
goddess before being cast away. For some reason, those feelings
were especially painful. Ali felt like an invisible blade was slicing into
her body. And the fact that she was so hurt by the goddess’s words
flustered her all the more.
Then what should I do…?!
Without Freya’s support, she had no way to stop Warsa’s barbarity.
Ali was about to look down at the floor in disappointment in herself,
when—
“I can’t be satisfied with you like that. Your soul will never shine this
way.” The goddess’s lips curled up into a grin. “Don’t offer me
something. Come and take what you want.”

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There was a crack as something was set down on the round table at
the center of the room. Ali spun in shock at the loud noise and saw
that Ottar had moved at some point and prepared something.
“A placeholder until the next king is born? Irrelevant. You were still
earnestly, foolishly, sincerely trying to find the correct path to be a
righteous king, were you not? So then follow that path all the way to
the end.”
There was a board game on the table.
“Walk the path of kings.”
It was Halvan.
“You can’t mean—” Ali shuddered.
“Let’s have a match, Ali. I’ll wager that which you desire,” Freya said,
her silver eyes narrowing provocatively as she looked through Ali. “I
said it before, Ali. No matter the king, there would come a time when
they had to make a gamble. There would come a time when they
would have to rise to the challenge.”
“Gh…?!”
“If you win, I’ll lend you my followers. You can use them as you
please. Whether that’s to protect your country or to destroy your
hated enemy is entirely up to you.”
Ali was at a loss for words as the goddess’s soprano voice slid into
her ears. Freya stood up, approaching Ali before she realized it and
cupping her hands over the girl’s cheeks.
“In exchange, if you lose—I will take your everything.”
She pulled the girl’s face in close to hers. The goddess’s expression
was alluring like a witch of destruction. It was the look of a haughty,
inhuman queen. There was no trace of the divine goddess’s face that
had stolen Ali’s heart that night in the oasis. Two sides of the same
coin. That was the true nature of the free and cruel goddess.

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Ali caught her breath.
“It’s true that I want you. So the moment you lose to me in this
game, I will be taking you with me and leaving this desert.”
“Wh—?!”
“I’ll return to Orario and take my time dissolving you in pleasure as
you moan until you have become my personal little doll.”
Ali’s speechless face was reflected in the goddess’s eyes as she
smiled at the girl. Those eyes were filled with a sadistic, rapturous,
dark desire.
—She’ll do it. She really would do it.
She would embrace her own desires without reserve, embrace Ali’s
body and spirit, and devour every last bit of her. The goddess would
ravage the soul that had fascinated her. And she would not doubt for
a moment that it was a pure expression of her love—a blessing.
“So, have a seat, Ali.”
She released the girl and moved to the center of the room and sat
down, but Ali didn’t budge.
It’s impossible. I can’t win.
Before they had left Leodo, she had seen Freya’s skill at the game. Or
rather she had been shown just what kind of beings that deities
were. All-knowing. She could examine the board while in perfect
knowledge of the truth, never make a mistake, and mercilessly cut
down her opponent. Every move she made would be flawless, and
she would never be baffled by the state of the board, literally playing
a godlike game.
There was no way for Ali to match that. A cold sweat broke across
her brow, and her hands trembled. She was being consumed by
despair in the face of a match with a goddess who could not be
escaped.

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Freya watched all of that silently before finally opening her mouth.
“Ali.”
For just that one moment, her voice changed back. She smiled, as if
placing a wreath of flowers in the girl’s hands.
“Are you really being resolute and noble right now?”
“–––––”
Hearing that question, a memory flashed through her mind.
Live nobly and resolutely.—Like a hero.
The scene from the oasis that night that Ali would never forget. The
message from the goddess that had been engraved in her soul. The
most beautiful divine will in the world.
…I see. That’s what she meant…
Hearing Freya’s words, Ali realized her misunderstanding. If
challenging this goddess to a board game was too much for her, then
she was never going to be able to fight Warsa anyway.
Ali was walking a razor’s edge between recklessness and despair, and
in order to achieve her wish, she had to stake herself, demonstrate
her resolve, and nobly break out of her predicament.
Ali had misunderstood her situation. Her assumptions were all
wrong. She did not need to show a tragic resolve in the face of
Warsa. If she were truly suited to be king, then it was the goddess
before her whom she needed to fight, to whom she needed to
demonstrate her resolve.
“Ghhh!”
Ali resolved herself.
I mustn’t shame myself any further before her.

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She quickly sat down across from Freya. The goddess’s eyes
narrowed, and her smile deepened as Ali’s light purple eyes stared
her down. Ali had made her decision. Not the resolve to become a
cornerstone for her country, but the resolve to live nobly—to
heroically stake her life on the royal path that had led her to that
point.
She stepped to the table and challenged the goddess to a gamble.

Halvan.
It was the most-played board game in the Kaios Desert. In all, there
were eight starting types of pieces: the king, called malik; the queen,
called malikah; the general, called faiz; the chariot, called merkabah;
the sprite, called rauch; the pawn, called junud; the thief, called las;
the slave, called obadiah. It was played on a ten-by-ten board, and
much like chess and shogi, the goal was to capture the opposing
malik. There were two rules in particular that distinguished Halvan:
the initial formation and the sacrifice.
At the beginning of the game, the players were allowed to place their
pieces freely within a predetermined region: their formation. And by
giving up a single turn, a player was able to remove one of their own
pieces and exchange it for certain other pieces they could later
spend a move to drop anywhere on the board: the sacrifice. The
drop pieces they gained from the sacrifice depended on what piece
was sacrificed. For example, by exchanging a junud, a player could
gain a single las and a single obadiah.
Because of those two rules, Halvan strategy had developed marked
peculiarities that separated it from those of other similar board
games. In exchange for getting to move first, the player was forced
to expose their formation before the second player had set their own
pieces. If the formation the first player chose was one that the

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second had studied well, they would be at a significant disadvantage.
It was said that between players of equivalent skill, the match was
decided before a single move had even been made.
“Will you go first or second?” Freya asked as she sat back in her
chair, smiling ever so slightly.
“…Second,” Ali responded after slight hesitation.
Nowadays, with every possible opening having been studied, it was
clear that moving second was advantageous in Halvan. At least
among mortals.
I played quite a bit of Halvan in the court and am familiar with all
the standard openings. I’m sure that alone won’t be enough to beat
her, but…the depth of my knowledge should at least be of some value
on the path to victory!
It was not something she would boast about, but Ali was the best
Halvan player in the court of Shalzad.
As a member of the royal family, she was blessed in her heritage, and
while she did have some hardheaded tendencies, she made it a point
to internalize all of the knowledge and teachings she had received in
the court. The weight Ali bore while passing as a male prince was not
something the average person could understand, and she had put in
an equivalent effort in order to play her role. And Halvan, which was
popular among the aristocracy, was just one more part of that effort.
“All right, then, let me set up my pieces.”
Picking up the black pieces, Freya began to systematically place them
atop the board. Her formation was…the pieces were lined up
symmetrically from left to right at the front of her area. Essentially
just the default formation. It was the most basic of basics. Ali caught
herself feeling momentarily disappointed as she watched the
formation take shape, but she immediately switched to carefully

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analyzing the structure. And when it was her turn to lay out her
pieces, she carefully and deliberately set up her own formation.
The formation she had chosen was a flying V with the pieces
gathered to the right side of her area. It was an offensive formation
that took advantage of the rauch’s mobility to open holes in the
enemy’s formation, and it was Ali’s best formation. She decided to
put her faith in her rauch.
“An attack without any concern for defense…Hee-hee, that resolve
of yours is exquisite. In that case, I’ll also yield the turn to you.”
“Wh-what?!”
“Move as you please.”
Admiring Ali’s determination, Freya confidently skipped her turn,
even though Ali had been able to place her pieces in response to the
goddess’s formation. It was obviously an enormous advantage for
Ali.
Is she looking down on me? Giving herself a handicap? No—it
doesn’t matter! First things first, I have to win this match! If she is
looking down on me, then it’s her funeral!
Just like a tiger lying in wait, Ali readied her strike.
Ali’s gaze contained a regal pressure, but Freya weathered it as if it
were a comfortable breeze.
And, with Ottar watching on from the side, the game began.
Ali’s first move was to advance the junud in order to open the way.
Between using the default formation and allowing Ali to move first,
Freya’s defense would be slow. Ali could choose to either continue
pushing with her junud or attack through the opening with her rauch
depending on how her opponent responded.
Next was Freya’s turn. Ali was on guard for what the goddess’s move
would be—

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“—What?!”
Freya took the malikah in her formation and moved it to the side,
taking the malik standing beside it.
“Regicide?!”
It was one of the possible sacrifices in Halvan. However, for reasons
both tactical and cultural, it wasn’t a move that anyone ever made. It
could even be called taboo.
It was a natural sort of development. In the desert world filled with
kingdoms of various shapes and sizes, killing the piece that
represented the king was taken as an offense against the royal
family. If anyone used that move in the royal court, it would
undoubtedly be judged as lèse-majesté. But even setting that aspect
aside, there were none who would choose that move for purely
tactical reasons.
In the event of regicide, the piece that took the malik became the
king in its stead. In exchange, the player received another copy of
every piece other than the malik and malikah to be used as drop
pieces. And then, in exchange for being granted such an abundance
of pieces, the player would be forced to yield three turns instead of
the usual one turn for a sacrifice. Three straight turns without being
able to move.
That was the risk that accompanied regicide. And yet, the goddess
before Ali had not only done it but done it as if it were natural.
“I don’t like having anyone standing over me, giving me orders,”
Freya said with the smile of the one and only Vanadis.
“Gh…!” Ali strangled the agitation she felt.
Combined with the first move that Freya had yielded, she had
already ceded a total of four moves. She had given Ali four turns with
which to attack. From the perspective of any board game, that was a

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fatal move. There was no way she could overcome that. No matter
how godlike her moves might be, there should be no way out.
That was what Ali thought, but she did not gleefully cling to those
three moves she was given, nor did she struggle with how to manage
them. She was shocked by Freya’s choice, but she put her hand to
her mouth and thought hard about how best to use her moves.
While Ottar solemnly prepared the goddess’s newly acquired pieces
for her, Ali took her own piece in hand. For the first move, she used
her junud to take Freya’s slave, easily advancing into the enemy’s
camp, which allowed her to promote her foot soldier to a faris—a
knight. And then for her second move, she took one more piece with
the faris. And with her final free move, she pushed into the goddess’s
formation from the other direction with her rauch, using the faris as
a wedge while she set up on both flanks.
With that, it was finally Freya’s turn again. Ali had taken free rein of
the board and could attack from either the left or the right
depending on how Freya responded.
The position already looked hopeless for Freya. But despite that, the
goddess smiled.
“All right, then, let’s get this started.”
She picked up one of the pieces she had gained by killing the king.
The goddess placed the faiz on the board with confidence, as if she
were sending out her most trusted warrior.

The desert nights are quiet and cold.

Even around oases that moderated the change, the night was still
much cooler when compared to the blistering sun. Leodo was no
exception. The tranquil moonlight chilled everything.

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However, Ali could not tell whether her body was boiling or freezing
over. An intense torrent of emotions, a mixture of passion and chills
ran through her.
“Ghhhh…?!”
Beneath her eyes was a Halvan board filled with black and white
pieces. The position that should have been overwhelmingly
advantageous to her had long ago been turned on its head.
Her position had been favorable from the start, and there had not
been any obvious turning points, but before she realized it, the
balance of power had become even. And then, the goddess’s
advance began like a flaring inferno.
Ali had not even been able to stammer in awe at how or why. Freya
merely proceeded to turn the tables with each move she made, as if
it were obvious, as if it were divine providence. Ali had not made any
incorrect moves at all. On the contrary even, she had made several
excellent, even brilliant moves. And yet, every line of attack she
readied was crushed, and all her defenses were broken.
She never knew. Ali had never imagined that a Halvan like that could
exist. Every time she thought she had studied all there was to study
in the state of the board, it was transformed into an entirely new and
never-before-seen beast by a single move from Freya. And what she
first thought was a giant beast, or perhaps some kind of dragon,
changed into a torrent of countless slashes.
She broke through the center with her faiz, then used her free
merkabah in a hit-and-run before crippling my defenses with a rauch,
letting her tightly knit junud pieces tear into my formation—!
The pieces smashing through her defenses transformed into swords
and spears, arrows and axes, carving away at her body as they broke
through her formation. She could clearly see it, could see the
unmatched brutality of the Einherjar obeying their Vanadis.

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 If I lure the faiz so my merkabah…no, that won’t work! Her rauch
will break through my flank! And I can’t deal with her merkabah
because of the way her junud are positioned!
She had already been pushed into a one-sided defense. The game
Freya was playing out in her head was far beyond anything Ali could
imagine. Countless times, the board in the girl’s mind collapsed in
submission like a castle made of sand.
She was still threatening the goddess a little. There was no denying
she was still maintaining some kind of a grip on the board. But she
could not help thinking that even those struggles were all within
Freya’s calculations. That she was being toyed with and the outcome
was already set in stone. That her hopes of saving her country were
already gone and she was already as good as the goddess’s puppet.
The helplessness she felt spawned a terror that was unbearable.
By any reasonable look at the board, this isn’t over. You can still
fight. You must…
The scolding voice in her head that kept telling her it was not over
yet was like a candle in the breeze.
“…, …, …gh!”
Ali realized that her lungs were screaming for air. She was gasping
like a fish out of water, but she did not have any composure left to
care about how comical the wheezing sound she was making
sounded.
There was no one in the room to read the record of the game. The
only other person in the room, the boaz warrior, was standing over
the board taking a neutral stance, simply watching the flow of the
match.
The only other sound was that of the pieces moving across the
board, their movement transforming into a lonely tone that gradually
cornered Ali. It was as if she were tracing the outlines of her life with

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her moves, and it felt like that life were being chipped away with
every advance that Freya’s pieces made. Ali had already lost count of
how many times she had paused to ponder the state of the game,
but the goddess never admonished her for it. Ali could imagine the
goddess amusing herself with how despair clung to this desperate
girl’s face. She could not stop the sweat pouring down her brow as
she acknowledged that she was standing on the edge of a cliff.
They were already in the final stages of the game. If she did not do
something, Freya would be able to checkmate her within three
moves. She was close enough now to guarantee there would be no
escape.
Was there any way out? Any move that would allow her to survive?
Or was it an inescapable death? Ali could not see anything anymore.
She did not know what move to make. She did not know how to
advance.
It’s no good—I lose—It’s over—I already—
Her hand became limp. Her body was on the verge of toppling
forward like a marionette whose strings had been cut. She was
overwhelmed by a sense of resignation as she stared at the board—
and for the first time, she looked up.
Sitting across from her was the goddess she was fighting. The smile
on her face as she watched Ali was the same as it had been all along.
There was no joy or scorn in her eyes. She was just waiting to see
what path Ali would create for herself.
“—gh.”
That smile. That gaze.
It made Ali’s hand tremble. Before she realized it, she was clenching
her fingers. Her hand had become a fist. A spark flashed to life in her
frozen heart, filling the rest of her body with heat.

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 No, I can’t! I won’t!
She could not give up. She could not cower. She would not allow
herself to run away in the face of the goddess.
I can’t. Not in front of her—I can’t show her such a pathetic figure!
It was just stubbornness, but that was her truest feeling. She did not
want to lose to Freya, to the goddess who had wreaked such havoc
on her heart. She did not want to be cast aside by the goddess who
had guided her in that moonlit oasis. Freya alone, she did not want
to ever disappoint.
“—That’s why!”
And with that wholehearted voice, Ali took her own malikah. There
was no strategy. No goal. She just moved the piece along the board,
following the flash of light, the guidance from the solitary moon she
was sure she had seen.
She had the feeling that the reflection of herself in Freya’s eyes
shone dazzlingly.
“–––––…gh.”
It was just a single move provoked by her heart. The blazing passion
and determination that had gripped her was fleeting.
—It’s over.
It was a blunder made in desperation. Just a vain struggle. When the
boiling heat that ignited her whole body passed, Ali could see it. She
hung her head silently. She did not even try to pray. She could do
nothing but wait for the goddess to carry out her punishment.
Her head hung like a criminal’s awaiting the executioner’s blade,
merely waiting for the proclamation—
“………”

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But Freya stopped moving. Her silver eyes opened wide as she stared
at the board.
“…?”
Freya had made every single move up to that point without taking
any time to plan, so when she paused, Ali looked up in confusion.
Ottar also looked on, puzzled, as Freya looked down at the board for
a second.
“Heh…Heh-heh-heh…Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
And then she laughed. A pealing laughter, like an uncontrollable
wind. The goddess’s voice sounded more joyous than Ali had ever
heard her before, which caused her to recoil in surprise. And,
ignoring the girl’s confusion, the goddess reached out to her piece,
her shoulders still quivering in uncontained mirth.
“E-four malikah, C-three merkabah, D-two rauch—”
And before Ali could say anything, she also started moving the girl’s
pieces. The black and white pieces moved without hesitation as she
revealed a board dozens of moves into the future. Ali could not hide
her shock at what was happening when—all of a sudden, her eyes
shot open.
“Your chariot corners me, and—it’s your win.”
Checkmate. Not for Ali, but for Freya. All because of the single move
with the malikah that Ali had just made. Even Ottar looked awestruck
at the result.
“Th-that’s…it can’t be!”
Ali was astonished. It was a board dozens of moves into the future.
She had by no means seen that far in advance, and she would never
have been able to make it there herself. If Freya had not performed
the moves herself, she would never have noticed the path to victory
and would surely have lost only a few turns later.

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The move Ali had made contained an unknown potential that only a
deity could have noticed.
“I beat you…?! No! But—! This is just…I could never have…”
That one move had come from following her instincts. It could be
written off as nothing more than a burst of emotion. There was no
way she would have been able to actually follow through and corner
Freya.
“A king is not one who must accomplish everything themselves.”
However, even if she could not have carried it out, she had
demonstrated it. The possibility of a move that could tear the
unrivaled queen down from her throne. The potential of mortals to
overcome the impossible.
“A king is someone who exemplifies hope to others and proves the
glory that lies beyond the light.”
Ali sluggishly looked back at Freya, who had suddenly started
speaking.
As if acknowledging that right at the end Ali’s soul had demonstrated
the glimmer of a king, and she had found the path to victory, Freya
tipped over her malikah—the embodiment of herself. She resigned.
Ali caught her breath, unable to process what was going on.
“It’s your victory, Ali,” Freya said, rising from her seat.
“Gh…! W-wait a minute! I—!” Ali stood as well as she started to
argue, but Freya stopped it with a glance
“Just accept it. I’m in a wonderful mood right now.”
Ali could not tell what those narrowed silver eyes were looking at.
But Freya could not hide her good cheer as she addressed her
retainer.

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“Ottar, obey Ali. Until the battle she desires is finished, you are to
treat her as your mistress.”
“Understood.”
“Convey the same to Allen and the others as well.”
The goddess was already moving things along as she ignored Ali
standing there in shock. The boaz retainer nodded in
acknowledgment of his true mistress’s command and shifted to
stand behind Ali, waiting in silence. Ali turned awkwardly to look
behind her, her eyes trembling as she saw the boulder-like warrior
standing there, looking down at her.
“I’ll be changing rooms. This is your castle now. So carry yourself like
a king.”
“…!”
“From now on, everything that happens is entirely up to you. Will
you stop their invasion? Or destroy a country you find offensive? You
can do anything you want now. You wield a power that can achieve
anything.”
Ali gasped at Freya’s words as the goddess moved toward the door.
It did not feel real. But her pulse raced. There was nervousness and
exaltation and an emotion she had never felt before.
And, as she placed her hand on the door, the goddess gave her one
piece of advice out of generosity before leaving the room.
“If you’re ever unsure what to do, then rely on Hedin. Other than
that, do as you please.”

Ali’s victory was immediately reported to the first-tier adventurers of

Freya Familia. Their initial reaction was disbelief, but they
unquestioningly obeyed their patron goddess’s divine will.

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They accepted that they would play the part of Ali’s arms and legs,
though there was one, a certain catman, who made no effort to hide
his displeasure at the situation.
“This is a farce.”
That night in a meeting behind closed doors.
Several tables were pushed together with multiple maps spread out
across them. The magic-stone lamp on the wall gave off a faint glow
as those gathered in the room—Ottar and the other first-tier
adventurers—looked to Ali while Allen made his displeasure known.
“It is her divine will. Obey, Allen.”
“You got any other lines in your repertoire besides that, dumbass?
She is who she is, and she went and let this brat who can’t do
anything other than beg for help screw around with us.”
“Gh…”
“I didn’t come all the way out here just so I could be some brat’s
plaything to boost her ego.”
Saying she had defeated Freya in a match certainly sounded
impressive, but she would never have noticed the opportunity if
Freya herself had not pointed it out, and even that was only after the
devastating handicap the goddess had imposed on herself. So what
gave her the right to order them around? Ali could not really
disagree with the clear implication behind Allen’s blunt statement.
The silver-haired goddess was not there. She had told Ali to do as she
pleased and then disappeared off somewhere.
“We’re not getting anywhere like this. If you don’t like it then just
take back your oath to Lady Freya and get lost, you stray. We won’t
miss a cat or two leaving,” the elf Hedin responded calmly. There
was no anger or disgust in his voice. Just a professional desire to
move things along.

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The dark elf and prum brothers did not even glance at Allen.
“Tch…” The cat’s annoyance was clear, but he did not leave the
room.
They’re supposed to be comrades, aren’t they…? It’s so tense.
Ali, who by all rights should have been an outsider to the group, was
ready to collapse from the stress of dealing with them. She was
struck again with awe at the fact that Freya somehow managed to
command a group of such strong-willed people. At the same time,
though, she could feel a weight in the pit of her stomach as she
realized she was going to have to command them all herself now.
Hedin glanced over as Ali subconsciously rubbed her stomach.
“Let’s begin the discussion. You are short on time, are you not,
milady-for-the-time-being?”
“Ah…yes!”
It was the dead of night.
This war room had been thrown together immediately after she had
finished her game of Halvan with Freya. Her mind was already frayed
from the intense match with a goddess, so she would have liked to
have a long break, but she managed to get moving again thanks to
the strength of her determination. While all of this was going on, her
country and Israfan were still under threat from Warsa. She needed
to come up with a plan to deal with them immediately.
“Bofman, was it? What are the particulars of Warsa’s army?”
“Y-yes, sir?! Me, sir?!”
“Hurry it up, swine.” “What are you waiting for, swine?” “Do you
want to scream some more, pig?” “There’s more where that came
from, pig.”
“Eeep?! I can report! I’ll tell you everything I know! Without delay!”

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Bofman had also been dragged into the room. He was on the verge
of wetting himself as he recoiled from the Gulliver brothers’ glares.
Ali still did not really understand what connection he had with Freya,
but she was starting to feel bad for him, suspecting he might have
drawn the worst lot of them all.
“W-Warsa’s forces are apparently currently occupying Shalzad in
their bid to gain total control of the country. Reports indicate they
have scattered several small groups all over in order to search for
Prince Aram, but…”
The profits of merchants were affected significantly by the economy
and politics of countries. And that was more true than ever during
times of war. Bofman had surely been using his trading company to
gather all the information he could about the ongoing war in order to
determine any possible business opportunities, long before he had
gotten dragged into this situation by Freya. Bofman glanced at Ali,
trembling a bit as if what he wanted to say was difficult to address,
before mustering the will to continue.
“I can’t put an exact number on it, but…based on the information
I’ve gathered, the enemy forces likely number around eighty
thousand.”
“E-eighty thousand?!”
“It’s not just Warsa soldiers, either. Countless mercenaries have
been joining the war on their side as well…”
Ali felt her throat quiver when she heard that number. The numbers
she had heard from back when the capital was taken were nowhere
near as high as what Bofman was reporting. Shalzad and Warsa were
both preeminent powers in the western Kaios’s central region, but
even so, raising eighty thousand troops should have been an
impossible feat for either of them. As Bofman indicated, that number

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was unthinkable without thousands of mercenaries also entering the
war.
But even if he’s right about that, that number is still unreasonable.
Not unless that mercenary group Warsa has been courting the past
few years, Resheph Familia, has been brining other mercenaries in as
well…!
Ali felt a chill. The war between Shalzad and Warsa was no longer
merely a problem between their two countries. She could sense that
she was being drawn into a different, stronger current. A contagion
that would shake the entire Kaios region was starting to spread.
“Eighty thousand, huh?”
“Better than the Dungeon at least.”
“But that’s still a pain in the ass.”
“A giant pain in the ass.”
—However, despite the earth-shattering projection, Freya Familia
was entirely unmoved. In fact they did not seem even the slightest
bit concerned. Ali and Bofman found that difference in reaction
disturbing.
“People with no talents to their name besides banding together can
hardly be called capable. Indeed, I would write them off as
incompetent. That’s just how it is.”
Hedin paid the two residents of the desert no heed as he looked
down at the table. Amid all the maps spread out across the tables, he
was focused on the areas surrounding Leodo and the area where the
borders of Israfan, Shalzad, and Warsa all met. Examining the terrain
in that area, his eyes suddenly narrowed, as if he had hit upon a plan.
“Milady-for-the-time-being is royalty, so even if I gave you an order, I
could not enforce it. However, I’m going to provide directions. If you
wish to end this quickly, then I suggest you follow them.”

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““…””
“If there are no objections, then I’ll explain the plan.”
As Hedin looked up, he appeared every bit the strategist supporting
the king as he seized the initiative. His intelligence was seemingly
common knowledge, as Ottar and the other adventurers did not
interject.
“First of all, as a brief overview of the plan—”
Freya had told Ali to rely on this elf, Hedin.
I see, even his appearance has an air of intelligence to it. With the
glasses he’s wearing, he really does look the part of a brilliant
tactician.
Ali was sure he would have a secret plan to break out of the
predicament they were in, even though they were so
overwhelmingly outnumbered, so she was tensely waiting with bated
breath for his next words,
“—The eight of us will annihilate the enemy army. That is all.”
“That’s way too vague!!!” Ali howled at the ceiling.
There was no secret plan or strategy or anything. Just brute force. No
consideration for ideas like winning tactical or strategic victories.
Indeed, the overview was so lacking in detail as to be utterly useless.
“What are you talking about?! There’s no way you can do that!
Beating eighty thousand people with just eight?!”
But Hedin easily waved away her complaints.
“This is the most efficient method.”
“What?!”
“And this way, there will be no innocent victims, which you wanted
to avoid. I’m proposing a simple and clear plan that will meet your
demands.”

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Hedin did not back down at all, as if he were simply stating the
reality of the matter. Meanwhile, Ottar and the others took it all in
stride without any comment.
He’s serious. He meant every word. He—all of them—seriously
think that they can wipe out an army of eighty thousand with just eight
people!
“Did you think I would have a plan to scrounge together some
soldiers and somehow overcome their advantage in numbers
through some ingenious strategy?”
“O-obviously! That’s how this sort of thing goes, right…?!”
“My apologies for not rising to your expectations, but even for us
that method would be incredibly painstaking. It’s just too
unrealistic.”
—Then what is realistic?!
Ali’s jaw clenched as Hedin patiently explained to her that eight
people defeating eighty thousand was the most reasonable choice
when the alternative was trying to gather allies in order to meet the
eighty thousand in battle—as if it were the most obvious thing in the
world.
She broke into a cold sweat, wondering whether maybe she was the
weird one for thinking it was ludicrous, but then she saw Bofman
across the room with his mouth hanging open.
“…I-it’s not just the numbers, the overall level of skill in the enemy’s
army is also high. They surely have countless kavirs!” Ali barely
maintained the presence of mind to object.
The enemy troops were followers of a deity, warriors who had been
granted Falna. Warsa was a militaristic country and they had several
other subordinate gods in addition to the patron god of their
military. And it was clear that Resheph Familia had several members
who had leveled up as well.

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“What of it? Are you suggesting that people equivalent to second-
tier adventurers would be capable of stopping us?”
However, throughout it all, the elf’s stance was unchanged. This was
the era of gods. Quality over quantity was the ironclad rule of the
times. Why would a rabble be able to properly cross blades with an
elegantly polished and refined individual? Hedin’s implicit response
made Ali realize she was taking them too lightly. She was
underestimating just how brokenly powerful the strongest faction—
Freya Familia—really was.

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165 | P a g e
“Whether through their own efforts or the work of a deity, the
enemy has realized that Prince Aram is hidden in Israfan. They should
be targeting other communities along the border besides just
Leodo,” Hedin continued as Ali stood there in shock.
The elf pointed to the communities in Israfan that were near the
Shalzad border. He glanced over toward Bofman, who immediately
stammered, “Y-yes, sir, there are reports that they have assaulted
other towns and villages.”
“While all that was going on, the forward elements they sent to
Leodo stopped reporting all of a sudden. They will undoubtedly send
in a new force. If they have already noticed the disturbance,
then…they will likely arrive tomorrow evening,” Hedin announced
confidently.
He was basing his analysis on the equipment and the level of training
of the Warsa troops they had encountered, combined with the
information provided by Bofman regarding the enemy army’s
location and distance.
“First of all, we will crush that force to make them suspect that there
is an unknown force in Leodo.”
Ali had finally recovered from her shock and focused intently on
what Hedin was saying. An unknown force of the strongest
adventurers in the world…But she had no more energy left for
rejoinders.
“If the second force they sent here does not return, they will become
a bit more cautious, which will buy us some time. During that time,
we will take care of our preparations.”
“Preparations…?”
“To force the enemy to assemble their entire army in the location of
the decisive battle.”

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“What?!” But Ali was flabbergasted yet again by the new bomb that
Hedin dropped.
“I said before that it would be most efficient for the eight of us to
take care of the enemy. So our challenge now is drawing all of the
enemy forces onto the battlefield so that we leave no remnants that
will need to be cleaned up later. If we can do that, then we’ll be able
to end everything in one fell swoop.”
“Wh-what are you talking about…?!”
“It’s the same when Rakia decided to attack Orario, but even for us,
annihilating tens of thousands of enemies spread out across multiple
fronts requires significant time and effort.”
It was as if he was saying “I’d rather get this annoyance over with
all at once.”
There’s no way we can do that. If we had a similar-sized force, then
Warsa might meet us on the battlefield. But even with how
overwhelming our combat strength is, it is still only eight people. They
won’t just rally for an all-out assault just because we ask them to. How
are you going to convince a force of eighty thousand to all join the
battle?!
Perhaps the voice screaming in Ali’s mind was conveyed by her gaze,
since Hedin looked back at her.
“If you desire peace for your country, then the method you should
take is not to repel the enemy, but to annihilate them.”
“!”
“I mean that quite literally. Not the colloquial usage where you
dramatically reduce their forces and leave them significantly
damaged. If you half-heartedly leave remnants behind, it will simply
transform the conflict into a quagmire. If the enemy’s army escapes
without a decisive confrontation, they will undoubtedly continue to
be a source of trouble for you in the future.”

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“Th-that’s…!”
“We could begin an assault with surprise attacks now, but if we did
that, there would be no way to prevent some from slipping through
the cracks. That’s why I want to gather them all in one place.”
There was a clear logic and coherence to what Hedin was saying, but
only to those who could accept his premise. It was not something an
average person could comprehend.
“We are going to go back to Orario after this. We will only fight this
one time. So in order to fulfill your wish, it is necessary to
comprehensively crush them so that they will never be able to
attempt something like this again.”
In truth, they had no interest in the fate of Shalzad. This was simply
Hedin’s considered advice to his current mistress, temporary though
she might be. Understanding that, Ali felt her throat tremble.
“Because of that, I’m going to need you to do your part as well,
Milady-for-the-time-being.”
“…!”
“It is necessary for you to become the lure to draw out both the
enemy and your allies…Can you do that?”
Behind his glasses, Hedin’s coral eyes met Ali’s gaze. It was not just
him, either. Ottar, Allen, and the others, they were all looking at her.
Eight pairs of eyes focused on her, appraising her. Ali clenched her
hands.
“I’ll do it! Whatever it takes!”
She responded firmly, accepting his challenge head-on.
“My capital has fallen, I failed to protect my people, and even my
retainers are gone! I’ve done nothing but disgrace myself throughout
all of this! If after all that, I couldn’t even put myself on the line, then
the royal family’s name is worthless!”

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“…”
“Use me, Hedin! If that’s what it takes to make your unbelievable
nonsense reality, then so be it!”
Her face took on the regal presence of Aram as she finally spoke her
mind. It was already obvious she was going to have to do this herself,
as she had been urged on so much by the goddess.
Ottar and the others quietly watched her. As both a king and a lone
girl, there was still one thing that Ali had not told them.
“Please save my country, gallant warriors!”
And she said it with the spirit of a king.
Hedin’s lips curled ever so slightly into a muted smile—at least that
was how it looked to Ali.
“Very well. Then, let’s commence the operation.”
But on second glance Hedin’s expression was unchanged from before
as he solemnly continued, so Ali suspected it might have just been
her imagination. However, as if responding to her royal decree, he
began to shoot off instructions.
“Hegni and the brothers, it’s your turn. And you four split up.”
The dark elf and prums looked up as they were addressed. The elf
tactician announced the beginning of the initial skirmish.
“Drive out any Warsa forces that come within a five-kirlo radius of
this town.”

That night, a wisp of cloud was covering the crescent moon.

The desert night was even darker than usual without the moonlight,
and that darkness evoked a primal fear. The outline of the desert
turned into clusters of darkness that seemed to almost grow into

169 | P a g e
mountains, and the shining eyes of the monsters milling around
flashed menacingly like disembodied souls.
Instead of the moon, countless stars in the sky looked down over the
ruins. Stone pillars and broken walls rose out of a sea of sand,
granting a window into the culture of the time they were built. The
ceiling was half-collapsed, barely able to block out the cool night
breeze. It was just right for monsters or humans to use as a place to
rest their heads.
That same ancient ruin was currently ringing with screams.
“Ugh! Uwaaaaaaaaaaa?!”
Shrouded in darkness, the cries from inside those ruins echoed
across the desert night sky. Sprays of blood took to the air like
countless flower petals. Crimson blood spurting from a severed neck
painted the walls red. The sound of dozens of footsteps raised a
great clamor. And each time a wail went up, the number of footsteps
decreased by one.
Warsa’s troops fell into disarray. They had invaded Israfan territory
and were on their way toward Leodo to find out what had happened
to Marzner and his advance unit that had failed to report back. They
had set up camp in those ruins to avoid detection and were just
taking a break when they were suddenly attacked without warning.
“R-report in! What the hell is goi—? Gargh!”
The man who was apparently in charge was mercilessly relieved of
his head, and as a result, there was no longer any stopping the
soldiers’ panic. The shadow of a single attacker danced across the
wall, coalescing into a silhouette as it cut down several more
soldiers, bringing yet more death. The shadow sent the magic-stone
lamps flying with a kick, transforming the interior of the ruins into
pure darkness as the massacre continued.
“—AAARGH!”

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Fittingly, the last thing the soldiers saw before they died was a dark
fairy bearing death.
“Ahhhh, nights are good. It feels good striking from the shadows.”
Taking advantage of the darkness to cut down yet another soldier.
Simply repeating that over and over. To Hegni, it was a very easy
task, freeing his speech from the usual nervousness he struggled
with.
“No need to worry about other people looking at me. No need to be
anxious about what I look like to anyone else.”
Because the darkness hides it all.
His unburdened speech was accompanied by an intense flash of steel
and enormous blooms of blood. The Warsa soldiers met their death
one after the other without ever knowing what was happening.
“Honestly, I don’t really like killing people, but you all did much
worse things to the powerless masses, didn’t you? That means there
has to be atonement for your sins, so it’s best if you just die here.”
The only response he got was panicked screams. However,
undeterred, the dark elf swordsman composed a melody with his
blade as he confessed.
“If you don’t, you’ll eventually reach a point where just being alive
fills you with shame. Just like me.”
His green eyes bore a mixture of emotions as they narrowed
earnestly.

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“I’m jealous of you being able to die like this. I’d like to be able to be
killed by me, too, but I haven’t settled things with Hedin yet, and
most important of all, Lady Freya has stolen my heart. Until I’ve given
my all for her sake, I can’t die.”
The fairy began speaking faster, but even as he spun a passage
befitting a bard lamenting the world, the melody of his black sword
never paused. His pitch-black cloak snapped sharply as another five
soldiers fell to the ground coughing up blood.
“So die for me. Our goddess is looking forward to the path that girl is
treading. So for the sake of that pleasure, die. I also would like to see
what becomes of her. My bad, sorry, my deepest apologies. But I’ve
heard that the heavens aren’t such a bad place, so you probably
don’t need to be scared. I’m sure you’ll return down here someday.
Probably.”
To the Warsa soldiers, his voice was like a lullaby murmured by a
terrifying god of death. The dark elf whipping up a vortex of blood
was undoubtedly a demon of the desert.
“…Ahhhh, it’s like I’ve returned to my old self. I really hate war. I hate
killing people.”
Right around when the screams died out.
Hegni was standing alone amid the dark red sand that marked where
so much blood had been spilled. Dozens of corpses were facing the
opening in the ceiling of the ruins, their hands outstretched toward
the sky.
The dark elf had not been touched by even a drop of blood as he
looked out across the scene of devastation emotionlessly before
disappearing into the night to hunt another unit.

“AHHHHHHHH!”

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The Warsa squad was screaming as they ran away. The four prum
brothers had blended into the darkness, making noise with their
weapons as they watched the soldiers run.
“Just like Hedin said, we let two enemy squads through,” said the
eldest brother as he swung his spear.
His expression was not visible through the helmet he wore as his
three brothers picked up where he left off.
“This is so boring.”
“That snooty elf’s acting like a tactician.”
“A miserable elf who thinks he can increase his brainpower by
pushing up his glasses just so. He should die in a fire.”
“Oy, give it a break—you’re making me feel bad for Hedin…At least
he’s better than Allen.”
While his younger brothers tore into the elf, the more worldly Alfrik
covered for the elf magic swordsman a tiny bit.
The Gulliver brothers were driving exactly two squads that were
fleeing in a panic after the prums attacked. Watching the Warsa
soldiers running to the south ahead of them, Alfrik switched gears.
“We’re splitting up here. Dvalinn, Berling, you two guide them
toward Leodo. Make sure when you’re done that the tormented
animals mindlessly snap at the bait.”
“A monster parade with soldiers, huh?”
“It’s harder to hold back than it is to finish them off. They’re too
damn weak.”
The hammer-wielding and ax-wielding prums dashed off like the
wind. Grer with his greatsword was left with the eldest brother.
“Alfrik, we don’t have to do this annoying stuff anymore now, right?”
Grer asked.

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“Yeah, there’s no need to let anyone else through the defensive lines
now. We’ll split up and maintain the perimeter.”
They were five kirlos away from Leodo.
In the vast desert sea with nothing to block the way, the prums,
whose already-keen vision had been enhanced by their multiple
level-ups, were able to spot any suspicious figures no matter how far
away they might be.
“If anyone is fool enough to test their luck, wipe them all out.”
Allen was in peak foul mood.
“Warsa’s soldiers are attacking again!”
“But there’s this absurdly strong catman and boaz who are crushing
them like insects!”
“Who is that noble able to command such powerful warriors?!”
The reason was because he was being forced to play a part in a farce
in front of the masses.
Right around when people were getting up in the morning, as if it
had been perfectly timed, Warsa soldiers surged into Leodo. The
residents screamed as visions of their town being burned again
flashed through their minds, but then, as if it had all been arranged
in advance, Allen and Ottar gallantly appeared, along with Ali.
“My powerful kavirs—no, my batars! Protect the people from those
Warsa fiends, my heroes!”
As the people of Leodo were reliving their nightmares, a mysterious
group appeared to rescue them.
The residents and merchants were moved by the powerful warriors
and filled with a profound gratitude and respect for the king who led
them—was the scenario that Hedin had constructed.

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In the first place, basically no one knew that Allen and the other
adventurers had been in the town secretly guarding Freya. And no
one would recognize that Aram in his shining armor was Ali, the
former slave girl. Even the slave merchants were deceived by the
sight of Aram riding astride a camel while handing down orders with
a regal authority.
The three of them behaved as if they had happened upon the scene
by chance, looking for all the world like heroes from an epic who
rose to defeat the villains.
“Amazing! They beat Warsa’s soldiers so easily!”
“Who are they…?”
“Ahhh, please save this town!”
Seeing the overwhelming display of power that Allen and Ottar put
on in the scorched bazaar, the residents of the town cheered them
on in a booming roar of support.
Perhaps as a reaction to the despair of having their town burned
before, they were responding exactly as Hedin intended, deeply
inspired by the sight—incidentally, the first few voices that almost
sounded like they were setting the scene were plants from the
Fazoul Trading Company—
Making me be part of this stupid farce. Fuck off and die.
Allen’s annoyance was rising by the second, and because of that, it
was impossible for him to make a dramatic show of crushing the
Warsa troops.
“Quit it, Allen! Don’t be so brutal!”
Eat shit. I’ll murder you.
The voice of the girl behind him who was pretending to be his master
only served to send his annoyance through the roof.

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“…Nrgh!”
“Igyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?!”
Looking closer, Ottar also appeared vaguely displeased as he
haughtily sent the enemy soldiers flying high into the air. The soldiers
who had been driven hard by Dvalinn and Berling were already worn
out even before the “battle” had begun.
“This is why I hate goddamn farces.”
Allen grumbled as he showily mowed through the Warsa soldiers,
who could do little more than whimper in fear.

“So tired…”
Ali made her way back to the oasis mansion while trying to avoid
some of the warm greetings from the residents of the town. The
residents had readily accepted the explanation that the valorous
desert warriors had rented out the manor from Freya.
Ali removed her gaudy armor and started to walk down a corridor.
“It’s going to be a problem if you are already complaining after only
this much,” Hedin remarked as he fell in step behind her.
“It’s not physical exhaustion; it’s mental exhaustion…Allen very
obviously wants to murder me. He might actually try to kill me when
I go to sleep tonight…”
“If he does, I will pray that you can rest in peace.”
She glanced at the elf resentfully, but if he cared, he didn’t show it.
“Thanks to the events of this morning, you are a hero to this town.
Most people will lend an ear to the savior who appeared in their
time of need. That will make our plan significantly easier to achieve.”

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“It was all just a charade, though…Deceiving people who don’t know
any better…”
“No residents were harmed in the staging of the performance, so it is
fine. As with ruling a country, pretty words are not always enough.”
As far as Ali was concerned, rather than being a hero, it was
effectively her fault the town had been burned at all, but Hedin
would not allow her to wallow in guilt. According to him, “‘Warsa
and their barbaric behavior are clearly in the wrong. It is not my fault
they behave as beasts.’ Please snap back like that.” That was how
she was supposed to respond.
Ali could only sigh as the elf demanded efficiency while not allowing
any room for individual emotion.
“Alfrik and the others guarding the perimeter around Leodo have
wiped out all of the Warsa forces in the vicinity. They should finally
start to be wary of an undiscovered threat here.”
“…How are they able to search for enemy soldiers and attack them
so quickly without any means of contact?”
“Nights in the desert are clear. As long as we take up the right
positions, it is trivial for us to catch any enemies approaching.”
He said that as if it was natural that they could see enemies
approaching from over a kirlo away. Ali managed to contain the
twitch in her cheek that had become something of a habit lately. It
was just dumb to argue when dealing with a battle strength that
could eliminate all comers as easily as breathing.
“More importantly, milady-for-the-time-being, have you finished
your preparations for the speech? Tomorrow it will be your turn to
put on a whole performance.”
Hedin opened the door leading into the command center,
immediately receiving a report from Bofman’s protégé, who

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hurriedly dashed over to him and stood there as he read through it.
Because she was tired, Ali did not hesitate to sit in the chair that he
yielded to her.
“I’ve finished my preparations, and I’ll pull it off. If it will save
Shalzad…save the western Kaios, I’ll do it.” She clenched her right fist
as tension seeped into her voice.
Hedin stood at her side in the role of aide-de-camp, as she
demonstrated her resolve. He glanced over, and then—staring
directly at her head, he sighed.
“?!”
And then stretched out his hand and ran it through her hair near the
base of her neck.
“Uwaaah?! Wh-what are you doing?!”
“You should take better care of your hair. Do you really think a
shabby-looking king can inspire thousands to follow them?”
She jumped out of the chair, blushing. Ali had forgotten all pretenses
of the role of Aram as her heart threatened to leap out of her chest.
Hedin looked at her in exasperation.
“Let’s get your hair brushed out. I can do it better than the
attendants here, so I’ll come to your room tonight. Make sure to
leave it unlocked, please.”
“Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh…?!”
A man visiting a lady’s room at night. Ali’s face turned beet red as
she imagined for a second that he meant something else, but Hedin,
who looked back down at the report in his hands, his face as
unchanging as the vast desert, quite clearly did not have any
intentions of the sort.
To him—no, to all of them, all women other than Freya are
probably no different from any other stone on the side of the road.

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Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, what little maiden’s pride
she had was shattered, and Ali was left with a complicated feeling.
Or rather she was pissed off.
“Proper grooming is a fundamental requirement for those who
would stand at the top. There are many other areas where you need
to put in the effort, but that is not one you can afford to neglect.”
As expected of an elf, Hedin’s appearance was outstanding. Even
compared to Hegni and the rest of Freya’s followers, he was a clear
cut above the rest. In particular, his long, beautiful blond hair would
be the envy of most women. In fact, even though he had just scolded
Ali, she still could not shake the jealousy she felt. Aside from that,
though, there was something about what he said that caught her
attention.
“Hedin, if you don’t mind me asking, before you joined Freya Familia,
were you an attendant to a king somewhere? No…were you
yourself…?”
The way he carried himself, coupled with his advisory rebukes, gave
off a scent that was familiar to Ali. She had a feeling that he was of
noble heritage, just like she was.
“What meaning would there be in you knowing my past? I can’t find
any value in it,” Hedin responded without looking up from the
report.
And it felt more like he really could not think of any reason in
revealing his past rather than a desire not to have it dredged up.
He really is just an intellectual, hyperefficient elf.
That thought guided her next question.
“Then, why are you putting in this much effort as a retainer? Even if
it was an order from your goddess, you’re the only one who goes

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that far, unlike Allen and the others…like using such formal language
to address me…”
He called her milady-for-the-time-being, but out of all the members
of Freya Familia she had met, he was the one who had been the
gentlest in his treatment of her by far. His polite words were just one
example. It had only been a few days, but Ali could sense what felt
like a small amount of actual respect from him.
And that question, at least, Hedin deemed worthy of answering.
“Those who have never suffered with how to carry out their duty
have no right to call themselves kings.”
“Eh…?”
“You faced the reality of your situation and did not flee from the
grief or hatred. Not only that, you even rose to challenge the most
beautiful and terrifying goddess. There is no one who understands
the true meaning of that better than we do,” the fair elf said as he
glanced up from the paperwork and looked Ali in the eyes. “You have
demonstrated the bare minimum pride required of royalty. Thus, I
have decided to treat you as such, regardless of what others think or
say.
“I suspect Hegni also has a better opinion of you now, too,” he
added.
Ali was dumbfounded. She by all rights should have been happy with
Hedin’s appraisal, since she had been so worried about her own
suitability to the crown, but she was also struck by an odd feeling.
The fact that Freya’s followers had acknowledged her, even a little
bit, was confusing to her. Especially given that she was relying on
them completely and had done nothing herself.
Has anything about me really changed enough to earn their
acknowledgment?

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“I’m going to notify the others. There are too many useless
incompetents here.”
As Hedin got ready to leave, he left Ali with one last admonition.
“Milady-for-the-time-being, I won’t ask much of you…But please,
don’t let us down.”
Since you were chosen by milady.
That was all he said before he left. Facing his back as he walked
away, Ali mustered her resolve and determination to respond, “I
won’t.”

The Kaios Desert was even hotter than normal that day. The air was
heavy in Leodo as the sun beat down from high in the sky.
Though reconstruction was progressing, unease still gripped the
town. There was a fear that Israfan would be next after Shalzad, that
every country in the region would be ground underfoot by Warsa.
And while the townspeople were worrying about the future, Ali was
in Leodo’s southern district along with Hedin and the rest.
“More came than expected…”
They were in a plaza. Normally used as part of the bazaar, today it
was filled with a crowd of people. Ali’s palms started to sweat a little
as she peeked out from behind a building. It looked like everyone in
the town had gathered there.
Ali—or more precisely, Hedin—had assembled them by saying she
had an important message to share. And since it came from the hero
who had saved the town, the residents were happy to accommodate
the request.

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The crowd was buzzing as people wondered what would be said.
Some must have been hoping that the town’s hero would pledge to
continue protecting them.
“Hee, hee-hee…now is the time to raise the sacred signal…the holy
pledge of the king who will lead the people of the sand…”
“Don’t talk, Hegni…Prince Aram, this is your battlefield. I wish you
good fortune in battle.”
As Ali choked back her nerves, Hegni and Hedin spoke up. Their
words made her realize the import of the moment.
—Right, this is my battlefield. I can’t defeat the enemy on the field
like they can, so this is where I make my stand.
Ali nodded to them as she stepped out. Her splendorous white
armor—a light armor with a cape carried by the breeze when she
moved—brought to mind jasmine blossoms as she stepped out onto
the podium that had been prepared for her.
“…People of Leodo. You have my thanks for taking some of your
precious time to lend me an ear. I called you here today because
there is a favor I must ask of you.”
Thanks to the magic-stone amplifier at the top of the podium, her
voice carried all the way to the outskirts of the city. It truly was like a
pledge being broadcast out to all of the people of the desert.
“There are some who believe me a nameless wanderer, so first allow
me to clear that misunderstanding. I am the prince of the Shalzad
family, Aram Raza Shalzad.”
A murmur spread through the crowd. Many of the residents were
shocked by the prince’s name alone, but there were others who
could not hide their disbelief. The merchants. Ali met their gazes as
they looked up at the podium, probing whether she was telling the
truth as she continued.

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“I’m sure some of you may have heard rumors about me. The
incompetent prince who disappeared without a trace as his capital
fell and his country was ravaged by the Warsa army—However, that
is far from the truth. In my country’s hour of need, when the royal
family’s destiny was on the line, I split off from the army for a time in
order to gather legendary warriors who would lend us their strength.
And upon doing so, when I heard that this town was being
threatened by the beasts of Warsa, I rushed here with all haste.”
She was just repeating a perfunctory intro that Hedin had prepared.
But this was where the real battle would start. This was where she
would have to prove she was truly a king.
“—Merchants, and people of great Israfan! I won’t command you to
cast your lot with me! However, I pray that you can carry my words!
Spread them on the wind, beyond the sand dunes to my beloved
Shalzad!”
As emotion filled her voice, Ali thought back to the other day.
“A speech?”
In the command center, the same evening she had defeated the
goddess at Halvan.
She was looking at Hedin in disbelief, not believing her ears, as he
nodded.
“We do not have many pieces we can use. It is difficult to share
information and plans, not to mention carrying out espionage and
sensitive operations. Even if we want to eliminate the enemy’s entire
forces, we do not currently know their precise location—That’s why
we need to call out from our end in order to convince the enemy to
move for us.”
As the other adventurers listened, Hedin spoke while studying the
maps spread out on the table before him.

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“Call out? Have them move for us…? What are we trying to send
out?”
“A signal for the entire Shalzad army. The message that we have a
plan to settle everything in a single decisive battle.”
Ali’s eyes widened in shock.
“In order to allow Prince Aram’s voice to reach them, we’ll have to
use the merchants. Merchants’ rumors move faster than the wind,
and this is a merchants’ town in a country of merchants. They should
be able to disseminate our message throughout Shalzad even with
Warsa occupying it.”
“…!”
“The speech is the crucial point. It can’t be some anonymous rumor
that can’t be verified. The time and place of the decisive battle have
to be proclaimed loud and clear for all to see and hear. We need
Prince Aram’s resolute action to be known by all around the desert
world.”
From the perspective of the Warsa army, Leodo should seem like an
inscrutable land of ghosts where all of the units they dispatched
disappear without a trace. And then all of a sudden, a declaration of
war would emanate from that void. One directed not just at Warsa
and Shalzad, but at the entirety of the Kaios Desert.
“You will declare the time and place of the decisive all-out battle.
And you will have to be inspiring enough to gather the momentum
and support needed to force both Shalzad and Warsa to deploy their
entire armies.”
“W-wait a minute! Even if my voice reached Shalzad’s generals and
they moved as I asked, there’s no way to know whether Warsa will
obediently come along! The difference in military strength is evident!
They’ll be on guard, but they won’t just blindly commit everything
they have…!”

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In response to her argument, Hedin pointed at a certain location on
the map.
“The location you’ll have Shalzad’s army deploy is an area to the
northeast of Leodo, the Gazoob Wasteland. The rocky desert area
near where the borders of Shalzad, Israfan, and Warsa meet. As long
as the soldiers gather there, they’ll be poised to advance into Shalzad
or even into Warsa itself.”
“!!”
“That’s not something the main forces of Warsa occupying Shalzad’s
capital can afford to ignore. If their country was toppled then
everything they have done would be for naught.”
Ali was awestruck as she realized what Hedin was suggesting. He
intended to threaten Warsa itself. If their army did not respond to
the call for a decisive final battle, then the Shalzad forces would
simply take their army and destroy Warsa.
There was no mistaking that Warsa had devoted a significant amount
of their military force to the conquest of Shalzad. Their defenses
back home were surely thin.
“Worst case, we can also call on Israfan to deploy troops as well,
since they have also suffered from Warsa’s barbaric assault. They
have more than enough just cause,” Hedin said, coolly mentioning a
monumental contingency.
Ali unconsciously stared long and hard at Hedin.
Despite the fact that we don’t have any retainers or soldiers, this elf
is seriously trying to move the full armies of two different countries
with a single plan. And he can probably do it.
Ali felt a shiver of terror.
“As a rule, you should always leave your opponent with two options
to choose from.”

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“Eh?”
“And ensure that either of the two options is convenient for your
needs. That way, you don’t force the opponent’s hand, but allow
them the illusion of choice. In the royal court, as in war, that method
is crucial for dealing with people, milady-for-the-time-being.”
“!”
“You would be well-served by learning more unfair tactics.”
Hedin matched Ali’s gaze as he advised her, as if bestowing the
extension of Freya’s divine will. Seeing his coral eyes, Ali had a
realization. He was both probing her and expecting her to develop
even more as a king.
“However, all of that will hinge on the speech. Whether you can stir
the desert world into motion is entirely up to you.”
“Solshana fell, and my father, the king, was executed! All at the
hands of Warsa! I have never cursed my powerlessness more than I
did that day!”
Her gestures changed as she drew in the crowd’s gaze and looked
out over the throng. They had used all of Bofman’s connections to
summon countless merchants from other towns. And Leodo was a
merchant town to begin with. This place’s web of connections
encompassed the whole of the Kaios region.
Incidentally, the high-class armor Ali was wearing had also been
provided by the Fazoul Trading Company. Ali wondered in the back
of her mind when the Fazoul Trading Company, and particularly
Bofman, was going to collapse from overwork.
“However, now we have a powerful ally! The legendary warriors who
will aid Shalzad, the eight great heroes who will crush the armies of
Warsa! Their strength is as you have seen!”

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When the crowd looked over at Ottar and the others, their
excitement ratcheted up another level. Borrowing the dignity and
presence that Freya Familia wielded, Ali fanned the crowd’s
excitement higher. Even the merchants started to stir. After all, they
could not remain indifferent to Warsa’s barbarity.
The crowd was being drawn in by Ali’s plea that they need only
spread her words. Many were still enraged by the fact that their
town had been put to the torch. All that was left was for Ali to prove
that she was indeed Prince Aram. Then everything else would fall
into place.
“I’ll ask you again! People of Israfan, please carry my message word
for word to my beloved homeland! To my people’s brave generals!”
The words she said here on this day—all of the merchants would
spread that message to Shalzad’s army. But the loyal retainers would
have to consider whether the prince in Israfan was a pretender or a
trap set by Warsa. Reports of purple eyes inherited by members of
the royal family would not do. That was not proof enough by itself.
Because of that, she needed to include something in the message
itself that showed without a doubt that she was the prince.
“I swear by Ali, the name of our family’s great founder, that the
decisive battle shall take place five days hence in the Gazoob
Wasteland! Gather all our forces! We shall retake the capital!”
Ali’s proof—her real name.
The true identity of the prince was not something a fake could
possibly know.
The excitement of the people and the merchants bubbled over at her
display of a sovereign’s authority and her declaration that
righteousness would triumph over villainy.
Ali thrust her fist toward the sky and shouted with a resolve to
accomplish everything she had said.

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“I declare here and now! As the surviving son of the house of
Shalzad, I shall become the new king and strike down the villains of
Warsa!”
The crowd swelled with cheers, and the burning sands of the desert
trembled with hope. The merchants’ determination rode the wind
and spread its wings as it took to the Kaios sky.
And seeing that, the members of Freya Familia also acknowledged
the girl who would be king.

“Ah, the princess…! She still lives!”

The speech in Leodo spread across the desert that very day, carried
by the merchants. And loyal retainers of Shalzad who heard it fell to
their knees and cried tears of joy.
“The princess—no, the prince! If he swore it on the name of our
great founder Ali, then there is no mistaking that it is Prince Aram!”
All around Shalzad.
Battle cries roared out among the pockets of resistance that were
still struggling against the invaders.
There was, of course, no one named Ali among the founders of
Shalzad. That secret signal proved Ali’s identity and invigorated those
few retainers who knew Aram’s secret.
“Inform the other forces! The prince in Israfan is the true prince!
Gather our forces in Gazoob for the decisive battle!”
In the encampments where morale was sinking because of how
poorly the resistance was faring, the old general Jafar, Ali’s right-
hand man and her most trusted retainer, bellowed his orders.

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The Shalzad army, which had been worn down and was losing hope,
roused themselves in the blink of an eye as they began marching east
as one.
“Reporting! The remaining pockets of resistance on all fronts have
begun advancing east! The Shalzad forces are splitting into small
groups as they advance…we can’t pin them all down!”
The Warsa encampment in Solshana.
Gorza slammed his fists down on the map spread across the table
when he heard the soldier’s report.
“Damn it! They got us!”
The now famous speech in Leodo had also reached their ears. He
would never have dreamed of using the merchants to re-form the
scattered army. It went without saying, of course, that Shalzad’s
army had a much better grasp of the terrain there, so it would be
impossible for Warsa to stop them from using various back doors in
order to regroup and form backup. And if Shalzad embarked on a
full-scale counteroffensive, then Israfan would surely support them.
Resheph Familia’s barbarism was coming home to roost.
Five days hence. The Gazoob Wasteland.
It was obviously an invitation. Gorza could clearly hear a certain elf’s
implicit threat: If you don’t feel inclined to settle things here then
we’ll simply attack Warsa itself.
“Prince Aram…! To think he was planning this when he vanished!
What a bold move! I’d heard he was skilled, but to think he had such
potential!”
Or perhaps he had an excellent wise adviser at his side. However,
even so, there are none more sensitive to the birth of a new king
than the country’s populace, and Gorza could feel the foreign

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prince’s resolution in his bones as the furor gripping the people of
Shalzad reached his army camped out in Solshana.
“HOT DAMN! This reeks to high heaven! This here’s one helluva of a
scam!”
In a different camp from Gorza and the main forces, the god Resheph
was roaring with laughter.
“This so-called choice is nasty! ‘Meet us where we want, or we’ll raze
your country.’ Whoever thought this one up is pretty great!”
Dignity and grace aside, as expected of a deity, Resheph correctly
recognized what lay behind Hedin’s plan. And despite understanding
it, he could still do nothing but respond to it. Even knowing that the
enemy was hiding something, he had no way of knowing what their
secret plan was. Until the lid was opened, even a god could not know
for certain what lay in store.
“We could have the army disband into bandit bands and scatter
around the desert realm…Well, that’d be fine, too, but I can’t deny it
would feel like a bit of a step down. And honestly just a bit boring.”
Resheph had no interest in winning the war. As Ali and Gorza feared,
he was making plays according to another plan that had nothing to
do with what either country had in mind. It was a pastime that could
be called a hobby for a certain subset of deities; his was the plan of
an evil god trying to sow chaos in the mortal realm.
“Well, fine. I’ll call your bluff. ☆ That sounds more fun anyway, and
I’ve got an ace up my sleeve, too—right, Seal?”
“Yes, Lord Resheph. Unfortunately, though, it won’t get its chance to
shine,” responded the elf at Resheph’s side, his familia’s captain,
Seal.
He had a dark smile unbefitting a member of the fairy race. He was
tall, lean, and sported long black hair. He was topless other than a

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cloak draped over both shoulders, with ominous-looking tattoos
covering his skin. He looked like a cultist born of darkness.
“I’ll slaughter the Shalzad and Aram by myself and then I’ll skin him
to make a flag of his hide for you.”
“That’s what I love about you, always spewing such sleazebag shit
with such a handsome looking face! Ha-ha-ha!” Resheph cackled at
his closest aide and captain.
Resheph was inhuman and his followers were all devilish in their own
right.
Their plan was callous and wretched to the extreme, one that would
bring chaos to the mortal realm, but—
Put bluntly, that plan would not come to light due to this battle.
“I don’t know what that ‘eight great heroes’ shit is about, but there’s
no way any power in this neck of the woods could match us!”
For the simple reason that an unparalleled strength that Resheph
could not foresee was currently in the Kaios Desert.

“Hedin, can you gather everyone for me?” Ali asked.

The night before the battle.
The location was, as always, Leodo. With the adventurers’ legs, they
could arrive at the scene of the battle within hours, and because
Aram had appeared there in order to deliver his speech, Warsa might
try to strike back, so Ali wanted to wait and protect it until the last
moment.
“I’ve gathered those who can be gathered, but to what end? You
aren’t planning on giving us rousing encouragement before the
battle tomorrow, are you?”
Hegni, Ottar, and Alfrik had gathered in the hall.

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The younger Gulliver brothers were on watch at the perimeter
outside Leodo, and Allen was apparently not inclined to respond to
her request.
Still, Ali shook her head at Hedin’s question after he had gathered
them. She realized that Freya Familia, the strongest of all, did not
have any need for encouragement or really any of her sentiments. It
was just that she suspected this night would be her last chance to
really have a word with them.
“First of all, I’d like to say my thanks for lending me your strength.
I’m sure Hedin would tell me that as king I should not so readily
lower my head, but…in truth, this is the only thing I can offer you at
the moment. So—thank you.” She met each of their eyes in turn as
she spoke her mind without pretense or artifice.
The goddess’s followers were unsurprisingly not moved in the least.
However—
“Nothing’s over yet, so don’t be getting ahead of yourself. But…I’ll be
sure to tell my brothers.” Alfrik’s tone was calm, but at the end, his
voice sounded a bit more affable.
“…Y-you were significantly less foolish a ruler than I expected, so…I
mean because…uggggggggh–––––Now is the time for me to break
free from the robes of darkness and scorch thy foes with an all-
consuming hellfire! Hee-hee-hee-hee!” Hegni, who apparently had
trouble speaking, seemed to be trying to say something, but it ended
up collapsing into a moan and then things only become more
unintelligible from there.
“Shine. That is the potential the goddess saw in you as well as your
duty.” Ottar said only that, his expression entirely unchanged.
“There is nothing more I need to tell you. However, if I were to add
one final intrusion, then…I suspect that the troublesome cat is on the
third-floor balcony.”

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Thanking Hedin, Ali headed toward the troublesome, feral cat.
“Allen.”
The catman with black and gray—almost silver—fur was on the
balcony as Hedin had said, looking out at the desert night. He did not
show any sign of acknowledging Ali’s greeting, so she quietly
approached him.
“Stay away from me. Figure it out already that I’ve got no damn
intention of pretending to be friends with you.”
“Okay. Then I’ll say what I wanted to say from here.” She stopped
five steps away from him on the spacious balcony. “I said my thanks
to the others already, but…I want to apologize to you. I insulted you
during the journey.”
On the first day after they had left Leodo, Ali had thoughtlessly
lashed out in a childish fit of anger. She had almost been killed on the
spot for it, but she had been wanting to apologize to Allen ever since.
“I’m sorry Allen. I was narrow-minded. I slandered the devotion you
all have toward your goddess.”
“Quit acting like some dignified leader, stupid brat. It’s making me
sick.”
Curt and to the point. He really only ever had abuse to hurl.
However, Ali already knew that was the kind of person he was, so
she did not lose her temper. Instead, she just smiled softly.
“…Something funny?” Sensing her smile, Allen’s head turned to look
at her.
“No…” Ali said as she looked up, still smiling. “Hey, Allen, are you
glad to be able to devote your everything to a single master…to your
beloved goddess?”
“What?”

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“The thought just crossed my mind. During these few days, Hedin
and the rest of you, your devotion was directed at the goddess
behind me instead of at me. And more than I was jealous of her…for
some reason I was jealous of you.”
The starry sky spread out before her. And the solitary crescent moon
hanging high above. Ali found that the words tumbled from her lips
without any thought as she took in that beautiful night sky.
“Goddess Freya is…mysterious. There’s no telling what she’s
thinking. But her words, her eyes, something about her somehow
draws my heart in anyway.”
“…”
“She truly is more beautiful than anything. But the thing about her
that is most alluring isn’t her looks…It’s her capricious, brilliantly
noble personality.”
Ali suspected she knew now why Allen had gotten so incensed with
her before. Those who had devoted themselves to Freya were those
who had had their hearts cleansed by her, who had been saved by
her. But Ali could not kneel before the goddess because she needed
to sacrifice her own desires, to become king for the sake of her
country. The moon shone so high in the sky, but it still could not
reach the heavens. It could not wait at the foot of the deities who
were able to look down on everything, even the moon.
“I have a country. I have my duty as king. But if I could abandon
myself entirely like you have, devote myself wholeheartedly to
something…”
How long had she had that thought? Since the Halvan game? Since
that night in the oasis? Or was it ever since they had first met?
Ali did not really know what she wanted to say, so she stopped there,
realizing that those pure feelings were not something she should be
putting into words.

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“…Sorry, I ran my mouth about something I shouldn’t have. Just
pretend that didn’t happen.” Ali grinned to cover it and started to
leave.
“Just cast it aside if you want. It’s only a country.”
But Allen’s words stopped her in her tracks.
“What?”
“If you’re jealous of our allegiance, then that’s because we’re just
being faithful to our desires. Because we’ve no need for anything
other than her and desire nothing else.”
Allen turned to face her, meeting her head-on. Ali was shocked as he
hit her with a voice that for once had a tone of something other than
censure.
“Don’t try to blame your own weak will on something else. That
country is just a parasite leeching off you.”
“!”
His sharp gaze piercing her was unlike any other he had turned
toward her. Ali was visibly shaken by his argument as Allen rocked
her with another explosion.
“For her love, I cast aside my own family…my little sister.”
“—”
“To society, I’m the lowest of the low…but what of it? You think I’m
gonna give up because of what other people think? If that’s enough
to stop you, then it isn’t fit to be called love. At least not as far as
she’s concerned.”
So follow through to the end. That’s what it means to really want
something.

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Ali was unable to respond, floored by the impact of Allen’s
conclusion. And Allen did not say anything else. He passed right
beside her and left the balcony.
Left alone, Ali awkwardly peered back up at the sky.
“…”
The moon could not reach the heavens. But could it be forgiven for
forgetting to look down on the earth, for forgetting to shine—so that
it could look up to the heavens itself?
The doubt that crossed Ali’s mind left her with a heavy heart and
unshakable questions.
As he walked down a long corridor filled with columns, a voice called
out to Allen, who was carrying his spear on his shoulder after he left
Ali with his parting words.
“Liar.”
Freya was leaning against a pillar with a smile on her face. That
goddess’s smile that even Allen acknowledged he could not best.
“You still care about Ahnya.”
“…”
Allen stopped.
“Surely you jest,” he said and then started walking again, actually
leaving this time.
The goddess’s eyes twinkled as she watched him walk away. Freya
had been watching over the girl on the balcony all along.

The room was dark, dimly lit by the moonlight shining in from the
window. The white curtain rustled faintly.

197 | P a g e
Ali was suffering alone in her room. It was hardly the time for it,
since the battle that would determine the fate of her country was
going to happen the next day, but she was troubled.
Cast aside my country…? Me…?
Cast aside Aram and become one of the goddess’s followers. It was a
thought that had never crossed Ali’s mind. To the girl who had never
known anything other than life as royalty, it was an option that she
should decisively reject, and yet it was an alluring possibility.
No, that’s not right.
Ali herself was—
“Ali.”
“!”
Ali’s shoulders twitched as she heard the door open and a voice call
out to her.
“A-at least knock!” she shouted at Freya, who entered without any
hesitation.
“I did, but you didn’t answer,” the goddess responded as she
approached Ali. “It seemed like you were a little preoccupied. Is
something on your mind?”
Freya sat down next to Ali on the bed like it was the most natural
thing in the world.
“Nothing of any importance…” Ali responded as coolly as she could
manage, not wanting the goddess to realize what she had been
thinking about.
Freya giggled a little as she studied Ali from the side.
“Allen’s actually a bit of a softy in his own way.”
“…? What are you talking about?”

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“His tone’s a bit harsh, but he’s always acting with me in mind.
Because he knew that I wanted you, he tested your feelings.”
“!”
She was shocked to realize that Freya had overheard her
conversation with Allen, and at the same time, she thought, She sees
through me. She can tell exactly what I feel deep in my heart.
Ali looked away from the goddess to hide the fact that her cheeks
were burning.
“I mean, you are someone I’m attracted to, so it’s understandable
that you would be caught up on me.”
What sort of logic is that?! You’re too self-centered in every possible
way!
But that explanation did not draw the sharp-tongued rebuke from Ali
that it was designed to evoke. Instead, the girl was just silent, her
hands full dealing with the feelings in her heart that she had not yet
gotten a handle on. It took Ali a few seconds to respond.
“…Even if what you said were true…it’s not a yearning sort of love.”
“Ohh? Then what is it?”
Ali averted her eyes as she carefully chose the words to describe the
swirl of emotions she felt deep inside.
“When I see you…I’m sure I see some of my mother, too.”
In her memories, Ali’s mother had long black hair. She was a fragile,
beautiful woman. The image that was burned into her eyes was of
her mother’s last smile as she lay on her bed and caressed Ali’s
cheek. Ali was bawling her eyes out while her mother also cried as
she apologized to her child.
Her reserved mother and the free-spirited and high-handed Freya did
not really have anything in common. But in Ali’s mind, their faces

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seemed to overlap. No, perhaps it was better to say that Ali’s heart
was making them overlap. Perhaps she was seeking the warmth of a
phantom of her mother who died when she was young.
It was embarrassing enough for Ali to admit that she missed her
mother at her age, but Freya did not tease her about it. The goddess
merely shrugged.
“Well, I am a goddess, so it’s not really wrong to think of me as a
mother figure. To me, all of you residing down here in the mortal
realm are children, after all.”
“Th-that’s not what I meant!”
Freya giggled as if there was something funny about Ali’s denial. Her
eyes narrowed, finding it charming that that was where Ali decided
to interject.
“But I like that side of you. That sincerity that will honestly share
what you are feeling in your heart, and the serious way you face the
fact that you still don’t know yourself and continue to worry about
what to do.”
Ali’s heart throbbed as she met the goddess’s gaze and listened to
what she was saying. Freya softly caressed Ali’s cheek, brushing her
hair back.
“You’ve done well, Ali. You’ve worked hard to get here today. I’ll
swear it on my name. You have handled yourself more regally than
anyone else in this desert realm to get here.”
“Gh…!”
“There are no more impurities in your soul. That amethyst radiance
has bloomed.”
She treated each strand of hair with a tender affection, like she
would a child—or a lover. The bed creaked. Ali was flustered as she

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noticed the warmth of the goddess’s hand next to hers on the bed.
She could not deny that she was deeply attracted to Freya.
As a goddess? As a mother figure? Or as—
Ali shook her head at the thoughts racing through her mind. The heat
in her cheeks refused to fade. She was struck by a boyish annoyance
that had no focus.
I see…I wanted someone to praise me…
Not as Aram, but as Ali.
She could not tell whether those maddening feelings were an
extension of her childlike desires or whether they were the cravings
of a love-starved person, but either way, she longed for Freya’s love.
She could not deny that.
Ali smiled. It had been bothering her, but once she admitted it, her
heart was lighter. She was satisfied with that. She should have been
satisfied with just that, but—
“—So I’ll give you a little treat, Ali.”
Creak. The bed groaned again, even louder than last time.
“?!”
Ali was pushed down onto the bed. It was a gentle push, but it had
no difficulty bringing her down. The goddess looking down at her
brushed her hair behind her ear and then slowly lay atop her.
“Wh-wh-what are you doing?!”
“I told you, didn’t I? I’m giving you a treat.”
The furniture in the room had been matched to Freya’s tastes, since
it had originally been intended for her use. And the bed the two of
them were lying on was no exception. It was extremely big and had
an extravagant canopy. It was more than large enough to
comfortably fit both of them.

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The goddess’s face moved closer to Ali, her hand caressing the girl’s
cheek. A shock of pleasure raced down her spine.
“…No, it might just be that I can’t restrain myself anymore,” Freya
said with a smile that was simultaneously innocent and alluring.
A crimson color like nothing she had felt before filled Ali’s head.
“W-wait! Why is this happening?!”
“Because I’m Freya, the Goddess of Love and Beauty.”
“But we’re both women!”
“I don’t mind either way.”
“Wh…? W-wait a minute…D-don’t.”
“Hee-hee, so cute.”
Before Ali realized it, her nightclothes had been removed. Their
hands were tightly clasped like lovers. An unbelievably mind-bending
scent tickled her nose. Her purple eyes dimmed as tears welled up,
meeting the dewy silver eyes above her.
“Shall we share a sweet dream tonight?”
That night, the girl dreamed of being consumed by a giant dragon.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaah!”
“Where…where…?”
Late that night in the hallway of the estate. A suspicious shadow
emitted an uncanny voice.
“Where is Lady Freya…?”
It was Bofman.
He was breathing raggedly, and his eyes were entirely bloodshot.
Bofman seemed almost on the verge of death.

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In addition to the goddess’s unreasonable requests, he had also been
tasked with Hedin’s frequently absurd demands.
Between gathering boatloads of information on Warsa so that Ali
could take back her beloved Shalzad, straining his connections to
their limits in order to reel in as many merchants as possible, and
many other things, he had been forced to work long and hard,
neglecting sleep and not allowed any rest. Despite being a mere
merchant, he had made every effort in every endeavor and endured
the harsh treatment of Freya Familia, whose stance was effectively
“of course you have to work day and night, swine.” There was no
question that he rendered distinguished service from the shadows.
And now, the night before the final battle, finally freed from that
nightmarish labor, he was wandering through the manor like a
zombie.
“This debt won’t be repaid until I’ve experienced the goddess’s
sweet nectar…!”
—It was inevitable he would want something in exchange. The
connection with her familia that Freya had promised to grant his
company would not be enough! This debt could not be cleared until
he was soothed by the peerless and incomparable goddess’s body!
Driven to the edge, Bofman lost all restraint, surrendering himself to
his desires.
“Gee-hee…hee-ho-ho-ho…! I’ll have her let me join in while their
lovely little tryst blossoms…!!”
Perhaps his senses had been enhanced after having been pushed to
the brink of death, but Bofman could sense clearly that the goddess
and the girl were already quite entangled, and he fully intended to
join in and gee-hee-hee-ho-ho-ho.
Finally reaching the highest floor of the estate, he was about to
sneak through the door to his goal—

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““““You filthy pig!””””
“?!”
Shadows appeared out of the darkness and dragged him away.
“Where do you think you’re going, swine?”
“Are you looking down on us, pig?”
“You’re awfully brave, swine.”
“And unbelievably stupid, pig.”
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep?!”
His pupils widened as the devilish Gulliver brothers pummeled him
into the floor. And it was not just them.
“Don’t scream.”
“I’ll murder you.”
“Rot in hell.”
“Bugyaaaaaaaaaa?!”
The all-stars of Freya Familia were all there. Hedin with his cool gaze
was serious as always, but even Hegni’s tone dripped with murder.
And Allen had already landed a kick right in Bofman’s gut.
“—A beast like you has no right to enter the goddess’s chambers.”
And the last to appear was the enormous, boulder-like warrior.
“Come. We’ll house-train you.”
The strongest warrior, Ottar, delivered Bofman’s sentence with a
stern voice.
“N-nooooooooooooooooo! Save meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
His fattened body was dragged down the hall into the darkness. That
night, he dreamed of being killed by the Einherjar countless times,
only to be forcibly revived for more suffering each time.

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 “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaagh!”

There was a faint scent of jasmine.

She was still dreaming after the goddess had granted her a special
gift.
Her eyes opened. Crossing the line between dream and reality, she
noticed the room was dim. A desert with a brightening blue sky
unfolded outside the window. A coolness shrouded her body, telling
her it was early morning.
“Are you awake?”
A soft voice rang in her ears, and turning to the side, she saw a
beautiful goddess. Ali’s sleepy eyes jolted open, and she looked
extremely annoyed.
“I’m awake…I just woke up. And next to you, of all people.”
“I see. I’m still sleepy.” Freya yawned cutely, pressing her hand to her
mouth to cover it.
Thinking back to what had happened last night, Ali felt like her face
might catch on fire. Her body was still sluggish. The only thing she
could do was glare weakly at the goddess.
“You just wouldn’t let me sleep at all last night, Ali.”
“You were the one ravaging me!”
Ali shouted “Don’t try to put the blame on me!” as she averted her
eyes and turned bright red.
The goddess was her usual free-spirited self today, too. Her
voluptuous breasts were pressed into the bed as she lay on her
stomach, her head lying on the pillow as she behaved like a listless
cat. The sheets were in disarray, leaving her naked upper body

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entirely on display. Ali could feel her cheeks burning as Freya’s eyes
narrowed like a cat’s, and her shoulders shuddered slightly as she
suppressed her giggle.
“We’re both women, so wh-why did…!”
“You’re really so fastidious. I told you before that a wise man always
has a vice or two to amuse themselves, didn’t I? Have you really
never played around before?”
“Of course not! I could never risk my secret coming out!”
Ali raised her body up, naked as the day she was born. She suspected
she was still blushing as she rubbed her dark skin and pouted at the
goddess.
“I at least learned the basics…so I would be prepared for my
companion once I’m king.
“So don’t make fun of me,” Ali said, doing her best to keep a hold on
what dignity she had left as Freya lifted herself up.
And then, sliding her legs behind her, she faced Ali and gave her a
hug. Her full bosom pressed against the girl’s flatter chest. Ali
unconsciously groaned in frustration as she couldn’t help but be
conscious of the goddess’s well-endowed body.
“Then make sure you remember this night so you can make the
woman you marry happy.”
“…Whatever unfortunate girl takes my hand will undoubtedly know
Aram’s true identity beforehand. If she didn’t, she would never be
chosen as the official wife of a king hiding his gender,” Ali responded
with her face nestled against the top of the goddess’s soft bosom
before reluctantly peeling herself away. “Ensuring the royal family’s
lineage doesn’t end is my duty. I have to find a fitting man to grant
me a child to ensure the next true prince can…”
Her words trailed off as a sharp pain rippled in her chest.

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She had been raised to do that and had long ago resigned herself to
it. But it was terribly painful all of a sudden. Now, after she had
experienced this goddess’s love.
“If it were me, I would fulfill your every need, whether as a man or a
woman…” Freya put her hands on the girl’s cheeks and pressed her
lips on her forehead. “…Whatever the future may bring is up to your
decisions today. The battle will be settled by Ottar and them, but you
are the one who will decide your own destiny.”
The goddess caressed Ali’s cheeks tenderly. Her gaze and her hands
were simultaneously like a lover’s and a mother’s.
I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to have to leave. Not after I’ve
felt this warmth.
Suppressing those feelings in her heart, Ali stood up. She poured
some water from the pitcher at the corner of the room and dumped
it over her head. Her body shivered from the cold as her senses
sharpened, allowing her foolish thoughts to shrink back to the
depths of her heart. Taking the washcloth soaking in the water, she
carefully cleaned every nook and cranny of her body, washing away
the traces of the night before, before putting her clothes on.
The goddess watched over her from the bed.
“Do your best, Ali.”
When the girl had finished all her preparations, the goddess smiled
kindly.
“And go forth, Aram.”
A fearless smile appeared on the face of the king who radiated
determination.
Ali nodded once in response. She did not look back at the goddess.
Her eyes were focused on what lay before her as she left the room, a
king.

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The Kaios Desert was arid and sunny that day.
As searing rays of sunlight poured down, thousands of soldiers
marched through swirling heat hazes.
The Gazoob Wasteland was a rocky desert region where the borders
of Shalzad, Warsa, and Israfan all met. Though it was rocky, that did
not mean it was not also a desert. Most importantly, there was a
place in the Gazoob Wasteland with even terrain and unobstructed
views that made it a perfect battlefield. And the armies of Shalzad
and Warsa were both marching toward that location.
“Prince Aram’s loyal retainer, Jafar, has arrived!”
“Jafar, sir! So you came, too!”
The soldiers led by the old general joined the forces from Shalzad
that had answered the call.
Finally gathering up for the first time after the capital had fallen, the
Shalzad army’s morale was high. The signal that Prince Aram had
risked himself to send out had revived their spirits, and about twenty
thousand troops were currently making their way to the battlefield.
“So! Where is Prince Aram?! Where is the next sun to illuminate the
hearts of all Shalzad?!”
“…About that, well…he has yet to be seen…”
“What?!”
However, the all-important Ali herself was nowhere to be found in
the Gazoob region. And not just her. The Warsa army was yet to be
seen, either, despite the reports indicating they had already
departed from the capital. At the very least they were not anywhere
visible from the Shalzad army’s current position.

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Jafar and the triumphant Shalzad forces froze at the soldier’s report
as the dry desert wind blew through their camp.
“Advance! The Shalzad army must have gathered and deployed along
the Gazoob Wasteland! At most there will be twenty thousand of
them! Against our force of eighty thousand, that’s little more than a
breeze!”
Around that time, the Warsa army was approaching the Sindh
Expanse. It was a pure sand desert that enclosed the Gazoob
Wasteland. Their supreme commander, Gorza, had split the host of
eighty thousand into five different divisions before they clashed with
the enemy.
“Surround their army both to insure they don’t advance into Warsa,
and to make sure they can’t flee into Israfan! Warriors of Warsa, this
is where we crush the last of Shalzad’s resistance!”
“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The main division raised a thundering battle cry and the second,
third, fourth, and reserve divisions spread across the dunes roared in
response. The soldiers of Shalzad had only just reformed their army,
so their chain of command would not be consolidated yet. That was
where Warsa would strike.
Gorza’s plan was logical and reasonable, clear evidence of his
competence as a commander. However—precisely because of that,
he could predict it.
“Sir! Enemy at twelve o’clock!”
“What?! How many!”
On both the right and left flanks, there was a commotion spreading
among the units at the edges of the formation as soldiers raised the
alarm. The officers in charge of those units looked around,

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wondering if their strategy had been figured out when each of them
saw it.
“Th-the thing is…you can’t even call it a force, sir…”
As their subordinates reported, it was not an army nor a smaller unit
launching a surprise attack. It was just one person. Or rather four
people.
One report of a white elf, one of a dark elf, one of a catman, and one
of a set of four prums appearing in front of the second, third, fourth,
and reserve divisions.
—Who could have predicted this? The gathering of Shalzad’s army
was, in fact, just bait. The true final battle would not be in the
wasteland but in the Sindh Expanse.
Eight followers would take on an army of eighty thousand.
As the Warsa troops looked on, dumbfounded, Hedin, who had
devised all of this, pushed his glasses up,
“The preparations are all complete. Now to exterminate them. Leave
none alive,” he declared
The adventurers readied themselves for battle, and immediately
after that, the rout began.

“Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh?!
”
The war began with a scream.
An enormous cloud of sand wafted—no, exploded into the air.
Seeing the cascade of sand, the commander in charge of the left
flank raised his voice.
“Wh-what’s happening?!”

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“The second division is being attacked!”
“A sneak attack by Shalzad?! How many are there?!”
At those words, the soldier’s voice trembled as he responded,
“I-it’s one person!”
“…What?”
Not one division or even one squad. One person. The commander
could not believe his ears as a terrified report rang out.
“We’re being bombarded by a single elf!”

“Struggle for eternity, indestructible soldiers of lightning.”

Just a single stanza was chanted. The white elf was unleashing a
torrent of magic with a super-short cast specialized for quick attacks.
“Caurus Hildr.”
A rain of white lightning fell on the battlefield. Despite being a super-
short cast spell, an enormous number of lightning orbs devastated
the Warsa forces. Each ball was the size of a human’s head. It was a
thunderstorm of certain death.
The deluge of lightning was unavoidable, and the soldiers could do
nothing but be blown away by it, their armor shattering as the
electricity scorched their bodies.
“Don’t scream and don’t move. It messes with my aiming and lowers
the efficiency. How irritating.”
Hedin continued his fusillade of magic as he muttered to himself. He
was rapidly casting his magic calmly, coolly, and mercilessly.
“This is why I despise dealing with trifling people. You fools are
always messing with my careful calculations.”
Deployed across the clear desert plain, the ten-thousand-strong
second division was in utter disarray. All because of a single elf

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foolishly barring the way, unleashing a storm of magic capable of
erasing hundreds of troops at once. The lightning balls seemed like a
rain of arrows as it split the division straight down the middle like a
hot knife through butter. The crazed symphony of thunder even
blasted away the sand, causing the Warsa force’s formation to
collapse almost immediately.
To a falcon overlooking the scene from the air, it was clearly visible.
The magic attack left a giant gash in the ground where Warsa’s
second division was deployed, like a dragon leaving a swath of
destruction in its wake.
“Though most are cowards who cry out and try to flee, there are also
warriors who wield a reckless valor and charge. Fear and excitement.
Drown in the winds of battle, all of you slaves to the paradox of
battle.”
Hedin mercilessly bathed in magic those mercenaries who turned
and fled, and just as readily fired off a thunderclap to incinerate
those tragically gallant warriors who charged forward to allow their
comrades to escape.
Lowering his right arm, which held his rhomphaia, he held out his left
arm and cast his magic. The rhomphaia boasted a long blade and a
hilt designed to resemble a holy tree. Its name was Dizaria. Hedin’s
first-tier weapon was both an excellent polearm while also serving as
a staff to boost magic power.
“You will all be routed just the same, so at least maintain some
discipline, you failures.”
Cries and screams went up all around. Hedin did not allow them any
opening to approach him. His single-handed unending barrage
crushed every charge the enemy mustered and incinerated any in
the rear who attempted to retaliate with their own magic.

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From the moment they had been caught off guard while spread out
across an expanse of sand dunes where they could be seen clearly,
they had had all their options taken away from them. It was
impossible to have a unit stealthily sneak up on him from behind or
pull off any other surprise attack. Those elven eyes, that race famed
as fairy marksmen, caught every squad that attempted any covert
movements and slammed them with another ball of thunder.
“What is ha—…What kind of monster is
heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?!”
The general in charge of the division cried out in unbridled panic.
Several messengers bearing more confusion reported in. Bombarded
by that torrent of reports, he was the only person on that side of the
battlefield who knew exactly what was happening. Every single
person with a rank of squad leader or higher was being erased from
the battle. The enemy possessed a terrifying, demonic eye—and by
fully utilizing that keen insight that could interpret the miniscule
ebbs and flows of the battlefield, their foe was annihilating the entire
chain of command with sickening precision.
There was nothing more pitiful than an animal that had lost its head.
The orders being sent to each unit became meaningless and the
surviving soldiers had become little more than helpless targets. The
aftershocks of their rising fear only exacerbated the meaningless
deaths.
Precise marksmanship. Incomparable accuracy. And a command
crueler than anyone’s. The white elf was a ruthless king who looked
down on a force of thousands as he slaughtered them with lightning
strikes.
“Ah—”
A second later, the moment the wall of soldiers being shredded by
his magic started to thin out, a magic blast mercilessly filled the

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general’s field of view with impenetrable white. Consumed by the
flash of light, he readily departed the battlefield that was swirling
with screams and despair.
Having been obliterated by a lightning lance, that general was
actually exceedingly lucky. Thanks to that, he was able to pass on
without experiencing the suffering of losing a limb or the intense
pain of having his skin scorched by a bolt of lightning.
“Shooting off magic everywhere as if I didn’t know any better…This
may be the pinnacle of boorishness, but I suppose it can’t be
helped.” Hedin was just calmly talking to himself as the soldiers’ cries
filled the air. “Who in their right mind would face a force of ten
thousand head-on, after all? Extermination via magic is the most
efficient method. This way at least minimizes the annoyance.”
He spoke as if he was explaining the most obvious of facts as he
nocked yet another magic arrow to loose, continuing to lay waste to
the barbarians.
He did not allow anyone to flee the field. By the time a unit took a
step that might have led them to safety, he had already shot off
another bolt of lightning that landed right where they were moving
toward. Hedin was very precisely and carefully making use of his
mind even then, enveloping the battlefield in a lightning barrier to
trap the Warsa army.
The moment they realized that no one would be allowed to retreat
from the sand dunes that had come alive with lightning, the soldiers
finally started to call out, pleading for their lives with no concern for
how unsightly or pathetic it appeared. And because of those
offensive cries, for the very first time, Hedin’s face, which had stayed
calm throughout the entire massacre, finally changed.
“Why in the world…Why in the world did you seriously think your
cries would reach anyone who would listen? You seem to have

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gravely misunderstood your situation. Who would allow even one of
you to live?”
As bolts of lightning crackled in the air, a single core member of
Resheph Familia—a Level-2 man—saw the elf’s lips moving and
turned pale.
“A faction of people close to you cast aside their humanity and
defiled the Lady’s property. You dishonored the goddess’s love in
that oasis town. You covetously desecrated a sacred domain that
must never be touched!”
After Leodo had been razed, Hedin had buried the corpses of the
former slaves, Freya’s property, with full honors. He understood. He
knew full well that their dignity had been trampled upon. He knew
that every last one of those slaves who were being sold for their
looks and abilities had passed from the mortal realm in the depths of
despair.
This was the obvious result. Axiomatic. If Warsa were inclined to
laugh and brush off such things as merely the vagaries of war, then it
was only natural that they would go on a spree of pillaging and rape.
But given their position, there was no reason for a high-minded elf
like Hedin to turn a blind eye to their behavior. Once he had sworn to
become an executioner, there was nothing left for those soldiers
beyond every last one of them being wiped off the face of the planet.
“You dare claim you are without sin? That you weren’t responsible?
Do you take me for a fool? You reek of the same stench. You have
already embraced that same sadism and carry that same beastly
stench!”
A blazing rage was ignited by his goddess’s defiled love. And faced
with that conflagration of wrath and spirit, the Warsa forces near
Hedin even forgot their thoughts of escaping as the blood drained
from their faces, and they despaired, quivering in abject terror.

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Hedin’s coral eyes narrowed sharply, and the next moment the
corners of his eyes flared up as he clenched his glasses, tearing them
from his face and shattering them in his clenched fist.
“There is no reason that I of all people would overlook such a flawed
world!!”
The fairy’s fury. The intellectual mask that Hedin wore fell away as he
revealed his true self, unleashing the storm of murderous rage that
he had not allowed to erupt before.
“And on top of all that, you hunted down and pushed that girl to
such lengths—if I don’t impose the true meaning of havoc upon you
myself, then how will I face my mistress or that young king!”
His loyalty to his goddess and the indignation he felt for that girl
whose country had been ravaged. All of those emotions exploded as
the fairy transformed into an apostle of destruction.
Hedin roared his duty.
“Your sentence is death! Barbarians of the desert!”
“…That’s the kind of thing Hedin would say,” Hegni murmured to
himself.
“No—nooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
Countless corpses were scattered all around him. The people
screaming in fear were, of course, the soldiers of Warsa. He was the
right wing of the assembled army. Facing off against the third
division, which consisted of another ten thousand men, Hegni, a
magic swordsman just like his old foe Hedin, had chosen not a long-
range magic battle but a hand-to-hand, head-on brawl.
“But unlike him, my magic doesn’t have a very good range and isn’t
nearly as convenient…”

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As the soldiers cowered before him, he stood there, immersed in his
own world. The dark elf swordsman lowered his eyes, hiding his
mouth behind a high collar as he muttered quietly.
“…This is just more my style…”
And then, he raised his sinister black sword in one hand and caressed
the surface of it with his other hand. It was a first-tier weapon,
Victim Abyss. Hegni’s most trusted weapon, his comrade in battle, it
was a jet-black blade with a jagged lightning-bolt shape to it and was
capable of unleashing an incomparably sharp slash. It was a superior-
grade cursed blade made for him by a certain hexer that boasted an
ability to extend its slash in exchange for consuming more of his
stamina.
The black blade that was seemingly forged from condensed darkness
caused the brown desert to absorb pools of crimson blood, staining it
red.
“…Hee-hee, hee-hee-hee-hee, your chance encounter with my pitch-
black blade has sealed your fates…The fiery sands flutter and crimson
flies…My blade calls for sacrifices. Meaning…y-y-you will die.”
He had preemptively slashed his way into the center of the enemy’s
formation. He was secretly scared of all the eyes staring at him as he
tried to explain himself. What he had intended to say was something
along the lines of “I’m the one assigned to deal with your group, so
I’m going to exterminate you. I’ve already broken through and
completed the initial skirmish, so please prepare yourselves,” but
what actually came out of his mouth was quite different.
And faced with that, the soldiers of Warsa responded pitifully.
“Wh-who is this guy?!”
“I wondered who the hell was slashing at us, but this guy is crazy!”
“Why’s he grinning like that while babbling like a lunatic?!”

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“He’s an elf, but that grin is like a damn ogre’s!”
“He looks like he might start licking his sword any second now!”
“Seriously, what the hell is he even saying?!”
His incomprehensible rambling did a fantastic job of aggravating his
already poor communication ability, and the ghastly grin was a
consequence of his face tensing up from the nervousness, but the
storm of comments from the Warsa soldiers stung Hegni, who by any
measure was the absolute strongest there.
Argh, I can’t take it. I want to die.
So the pitiful dark elf hid face behind his deep collar and slashed
away as his cheeks burned in shame.
“Guaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh?!”
He flew into an intense sword dance. His black sword became a flash
of light, slicing through several soldiers at once like it was nothing.
Their shield walls, ready spears, swinging swords, and everything else
in the blade’s path were all cut down. Each swing of his sword
composed a rondo of cries and suffering. His black cloak danced
through the air behind him as if he were a conductor leading a
gruesome orchestra.
There was no darkness to hide his shame or his silliness. It was not
night like when he had fought before. The desert sun shone bright,
exposing Hegni’s wild sword dance to the world. To the enemy
forces, it was an incarnation of terror, and to Hegni it was the
equivalent of a hellish one-man performance atop a stage for all to
see.
Argh, they’re watching me. They’re all looking at meeeee. Arrrrgh,
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. Why did I ever become a first-tier
adventurer? I don’t need the attention, just let me sink into the
darkness to fight! Or even just become the darkness itself. Why didn’t
I become an assassin? I can’t do it, this is too hard, I just want to hide

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in the forest, aaaaarrrrrgh. I just wanna lay my head in Lady Freya’s
lap—no, the other way around, I want her to lay her head on my lap.
He was facing ten thousand enemies. It was a concentration of gazes
unlike any he had experienced before. Unlike monsters in the
Dungeon, they were people with intelligence, which just made it all
the worse for Hegni, causing the incoherent thoughts in his head to
mix and merge. While he was performing a cruel dance of blades, his
stress was threatening to break past his limits.
I can’t do it…I guess I have to use it.
Because of that, Hegni fled to his magic.
“Draw thine sword, King of the fiendish blades.”
He plunged his black sword into the sand before him, and a black
magic circle appeared around it, then expanded as he closed his eyes
and began chanting fluently.
“Sacrifice reason and offer up blood. Slaughter all until the feast is
finished.”
The soldiers did not even have time to defend themselves as they
watched in shock. The dark elf’s short cast ended, and he spoke the
name of his spell.

“Dáinsleif.”
The black magic circle at his feet shone and then shattered. The
fragments of lights were absorbed into his body. A veil of light
seemed to envelop him completely, but it disappeared in an instant
as he slowly opened his eyes. And then he suddenly spoke:
“—You villains who have acted as you pleased in this desert, offer up
your blood. Only through that may there be forgiveness for the grave
treason you have committed.”

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It was a firm, resolute voice and menacing attitude entirely at odds
with how he had been acting before, which just confused the soldiers
even more because of the sudden change in demeanor. His eyes did
not betray any hidden insecurities. Instead they were raised sharply,
like a true swordsman’s.
Hegni’s magic, Dáinsleif. It had the unusual effect of modifying his
personality. It was counted as a rare magic, one that allowed Hegni
to embody the mental image he had of himself. It was the key to the
ritual that allowed the weak-willed, nervous elf to become a true
warrior. It bore a resemblance to a certain prum hero’s fighting spirit
buff magic, but Dáinsleif did not have an effect that increased his
status. It merely manipulated his personality, making it a seemingly
plain ability among a rather flashy class of magics.
“Speak your final words should you have any. There shan’t be
mercy.”
However, his magic was so specialized in manipulating his psyche
that it surpassed autosuggestion and was a genuine modification of
his self. Its effect literally turned his personality and vocabulary into
that of another person, effectively making his ideal self a reality.
It was a magic that summoned the strongest possible version of
himself that had grown out of an obsessive self-hatred. The moment
he cast that spell, Hegni transformed into a merciless, cruel,
murderous, and domineering warrior king, like a cursed sword that
once drawn could not be sheathed until it had satisfied itself by
shedding the blood of countless people.
“—Shuffle off this mortal coil, rabble. Unseemly tributes who have
been forsaken by the goddess’s love, you are best dead.”
In an instant, Hegni disappeared. The desert sand exploded up into
the air from his unexpected step as he dashed forward, cutting down
an entire platoon before the enemies even realized he had moved.

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 “Ahh—Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
That was how the true banquet of despair began. Having activated
Dáinsleif, Hegni had rid himself of every last shred of mercy. The
limiters inhibiting his full strength had been removed by magic. He
transformed into a man-eating fiend that even his old foe Hedin
would say, “That rogue is the strongest among all elves when it
comes to hand-to-hand combat.”
Moving like a black sliver through the soldiers’ ranks, he struck each
and every one down, leaving none alive as he created a storm of
slashes. The soldiers of the third division who saw him were more
terrified than the soldiers on any other battlefield, because what
they saw was the personification of a demon blade. A manifestation
of death itself that paused only to dedicate more blood and viscera.
The soldiers understood it instinctively as they cried and their teeth
chattered, until a split second later, they became the next offerings
to his sword.
Hegni’s title, Dáinsleif, was indeed derived from the name of his
magic.
It was the greatest compliment paid him by the fanatical and intense
fans he had among the gods, in honor of the way he transformed
from a comical dark knight into a true warrior king of darkness.
“There are many tributes this time…but be at ease, I have plenty of
slashes to dole out. This blade of mine shall mark your grave.”
In the name of exterminating the whole army, the evilest fairy
resumed the massacre.
“General Orcas! The enemy has appeared!” a soldier reported.
“What?! What scale and from which direction?!” Orcas roared out
with a booming voice.

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As the clamor of battle rang out all around the Sindh Expanse,
General Orcas, the aged general who was a veteran of many battles
against Shalzad, was at the very rear of the formation, leading the
reserves. They had twenty thousand troops who were supposed to
react as the battle developed and support the main divisions as
needed. It was a position of significant importance in battle.
The enemy’s tactician even saw through the existence of our
reserve forces and had troops lying in wait.
He suspected that the composition of their formation had been
leaked to the enemy, since other divisions had already encountered
surprise attacks that had been devastating enough that the cries
could be heard from beyond the dunes even before the reports
arrived.
“A bombardment carried out by a single person” and “A single
swordsman cutting down more than half a force of ten thousand”
and other absurd reports were flying all around, so he knew that the
battle was enshrouded by the fog of war. However, his suspicions
were overturned when learned of his own situation.
“There is one person each to our north, south, east, and west, sir!”
“………Huh?”
“Ummm, that is…well, there is one person in each direction, sir. In
front and behind, and left and right. There are four armored prums
in total…”
The well-trained soldier was at a loss for word for once as he
struggled to clarify his report.
Orcas sat atop his camel as he trained his eyes in the directions the
solider indicated—and he saw them, just as reported. At the summit
of the sand dunes in the cardinal directions around his force of
twenty thousand, there stood four short prums wielding a spear,
hammer, battle-ax, and greatsword respectively.

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“Hu—…Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Has Shalzad lost its mind?! Just
four people to face off against an army of twenty thousand?!”
Orcas could hardly believe his eyes as his battle-hardened body
shook from laughter and several people around him also broke out
into guffaws.
No matter how strong they are, we’re a force of soldiers and
mercenaries who have all received Falna. Even if they could take out
one thousand each, three thousand more would easily overwhelm
them. And they’re prums! The weakest of all the demi-humans! What
a joke!
“What of it?! Do they intend us to act as if we’ve been surrounded by
a force of just four people?! Don’t make me laugh, fools!”
A wave of scornful laughter spread from the tough old general to the
surrounding troops. Needless to say, they had let their guard down.
—If there was any miscalculation in Orcas’s analysis, it was that he
had not known that his opponents, despite being prums, were
considered possibly the strongest prums in the world, four of the
precious few first-tier adventurers in the world, members of the
Freya Familia.

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224 | P a g e
In other words, he was entirely wrong.
“Everyone’s in position.”
“Shall we?”
“Let’s.”
“Let’s do this.”
The Gulliver brothers were standing stock-still atop the sand dunes
as they looked down on the Warsa army, their voices overlapping
despite being so far away from each other, as if they were telepathic.
To the four of them, distance did not count for much. As long as they
could see each other, it did not matter whether the enemy was just
one or ten thousand, they would exterminate them with such tight
coordination that did not allow even one soldier to escape.
Staring blankly down at the army below them roaring with laughter,
they lowered their visors and leaned forward, seemingly pulled down
by gravity as they dashed down the dunes. An instant later, cries and
screams began ringing out from all directions at the same time.
In later years, it would come to be known as the Battle of the Sindh.
A battle told in countless bards’ songs and children’s plays about the
prince of a country in ruins who, with the aid of eight anonymous
heroes, foiled the plot of evil deities manipulating Warsa behind the
scenes. There would be no end to scholars and historians attempting
to determine what exactly happened that day.
And one particularly famous point of study shrouded somewhere
between the myth and truth of the battle was regarding the birth of
a revolutionary tactic.
It was the “groundbreaking encirclement and annihilation formation
carried out by just four people.”

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It was a maneuver where just four people in total were positioned at
the north, south, east, and west of a force of twenty thousand that
was both incomprehensible and yet somehow powerful beyond
belief—a maneuver that would shock later military scholars and
tacticians.
Renowned military scholars howled at its mention, as if to declare
“How is that possible, you imbecile?” But it was emblematic of the
age of deities, and records indicated that it was, in fact, used to wipe
Warsa’s force of twenty thousand off the map.
Records of that unbelievable battle were left by a historian who was
well-known in the desert realm, Orcas Gruen. He was one of the few
survivors of the Battle of Sindh and the one general who saw
firsthand what occurred that day, and when he described the battle
in his autobiography, the next passage he wrote was: “My humblest
apologies. I’m truly, truly sorry for looking down on you.”

“General Jafar! Warsa’s army has already begun the battle!”

“What?!”
As Hedin, Hegni, and the Gulliver brothers embarked on their
respective rampages and the agonizing cries of Warsa’s army echoed
throughout the desert, the Shalzad army deployed all by itself in the
Gazoob Wasteland finally realized what was going on.
Based on reports from scouts saying, “I don’t really get what’s going
on, but Warsa’s army is getting its ass handed to it,” the army
hurriedly advanced toward the Sindh Expanse.
“Well, by the time they get there it will already be over,” Freya said.
She was sitting in a chair with her legs crossed on the deck of the
Fazoul Trading Company’s desert ship. The ship was being steered by
merchant trainees, keeping a safe distance from the battlefield while

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still being able to observe what was happening, as it leisurely cruised
through the sand.
“Is this really okay, Lady Freya? Letting Lady Ali…Prince Aram move
separately?” a stout, toned man asked.
“There’s no helping it, since she said she wanted to see the battle
with her own eyes. And if she is to be king, that sentiment is entirely
reasonable,” Freya responded.
Ali was currently watching the battle from an even closer position
with the bare minimum accompaniment from the trading company.
Freya was more worried about her being attacked by monsters than
soldiers, but figured it should be fine.
With the overwhelming battle going on around them, the monsters
would be cowering in fear and not attacking humans. A smile crossed
Freya’s face as she imagined the look on Ali’s face as she watched
the battle.
“…Speaking of, though…who are you?” Freya asked, turning to the
tall, handsome man who was waiting at her side as if it were the
most obvious thing in the world.
She had been wondering about him for a while, but he had
preternaturally adopted the role of her attendant so well she had not
really had a chance to ask. The brown-skinned man responded
naturally.
“I’m Bofman, milady.”
NO WAY! Freya thought in her heart, forgetting her character for a
moment.
The self-proclaimed Bofman was not a fattened blob of flesh but a
well-sculpted mass of muscle. He had a short mustache, but beneath
his brown skin, he had the physical structure of a slightly smaller
Ottar.

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Freya’s wide-eyed gaze conveyed the question What happened
during that one night?
“Last night I received a strict punishment from Messrs. Ottar, Allen,
Hedin, Hegni, and Gulliver and was made aware how unsightly I truly
was…Muscle is righteousness.” The self-proclaimed Bofman averted
his eyes as he responded.
But his answer was incomprehensible to Freya. It was not just his
appearance; even his tone had changed. Such a dramatic
transformation in the course of a single night shocked even a
goddess.
“…Why don’t you come to my room tonight?” Freya suggested.
“No, a lowly beast such as I am not worthy to be summoned by you,
Lady Freya.”
However, a gravelly, handsome voice politely rejected her. She
wondered why she felt like she had been defeated. Freya was a bit
annoyed by that and made a mental note to torment Ottar later.
“…Lady Freya, that is…”
Bofman and the rest of the crew all looked in the same direction.
When Freya also glanced over, she spotted an air current rising into
the sky, creating a sand tornado—

“A…a sandstorm…”
A fiendish vortex filled the sky as the soldiers of Warsa trembled in
fear. The powerful wind whipping the sand into the air swallowed up
the soldiers running for their lives one after the other as their
screams were swept up into the storm.
Warsa’s fourth division, ten thousand soldiers, fell into a panic at the
inexplicable phenomenon occurring before their eyes.

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“Wh-what is that?! Magic?!”
No. It was the aftereffects of someone sprinting. A preposterous,
inhuman, almost supersonic movement kicked up a wind that
scattered sand through the air. It was nothing more than a side
effect.
The unit commander who cried out saw the single flash of a silver
spear come from inside the depths of that evil storm for just a
second before it pierced his chest.
“Gaaaaaah?!”
Paying no heed to the soldier who collapsed with blood pouring from
his chest, the fighting cat kept sprinting.
“Tch, just like in Sand Land, huh? This always happens in sandy
terrain.”
Despite having already lost count of how many enemies he had
killed, Allen did not slow his spear in the least. As he ran around in
every direction at top speed, leaving only death in his wake, his
passing created a tremendous wind, giving birth to a sandstorm that
swallowed up an entire division of Warsa troops. He continued
striking down his targets at an ever-faster rate as they fell into a
panic.
The fastest in Orario.
Allen was faster than every other adventurer, and he ran riot around
the battlefield, kicking up an enormous plumes of dust like a
blindingly fast chariot. To the soldiers, it was like a natural disaster or
a gigantic monster attacking. Their taste for battle vanished, but
Allen did not allow even one who turned their back to escape.
There were no calls of surrender. No one would think to wave the
white flag in the face of a storm. Because of the sand, no one could

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even see Allen as every last one of them fell to his silver spear
without exception.
“Ha-haaaaaaaa!”
At least that was how it should have been.
Someone charged into the wall of sand, broke through, and swung
dual swords down at Allen. Allen considered parrying with his spear
for a moment—but quickly decided to avoid the blades instead. His
superhuman dynamic vision noticed that the blades were a
suspicious red and blue color.
And, as if announcing he was correct to jump back, a stream of
flames and a blast of frost erupted from the blades. The combination
of searing flames and ice that froze even the desert scattered the
sandstorm. Allen stopped moving when he landed on the ground,
observing the enemy that had been able to attempt an attack on him
while he was moving.
“You’re the one! You’re the guy trying to disrupt my lord Resheph’s
plan!”
It was a lean and tall male elf. He was untanned with long black hair,
wearing a cloak over his otherwise bare upper body. His face and
chest were covered in warpaint-like tattoos, but he did not seem to
be a proper warrior, instead giving off a bit of an ominous air.
“I am Lord Resheph’s greatest follower, the leader of his familia,
Seal!”
“…Do all the servants of that Resheph or whatever have the same
bad habit of introducing themselves?”
The man who called himself Seal did not pay Allen’s gaze any heed as
his delightedly clanged his magic swords together.
“You’re strong, aren’t you?! I can tell just by looking! What was with
that speed?! Are you by any chance a warrior from outside the

230 | P a g e
desert, like us? No, wait! Is there any chance that you might be an
adventurer from Orario?!”
Perhaps getting excited in the heat of the moment on the battlefield,
or perhaps losing himself in joy at the appearance of an
overwhelmingly powerful warrior, the elf twisted his face in a way
that disfigured his features as he shouted, guessing at Allen’s true
identity.
Resheph Familia’s leader spoke in a grating voice that served only to
increase Allen’s irritation even as the strange man’s smile deepened.
“Even I, a kavir, can’t hope to win against you! No chance at all! Ha-
ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Scary, scary! Aaaaah, what a fearsome warrior!”
Despite recognizing the difference in their strength, Seal could not
stop laughing. Meanwhile, Allen had moved beyond displeasure and
was ready to commit murder. Just when he had decided it was
enough and was about to run down the elf—Seal noticed his
ferocious hostility and quickly began to move.
“At this rate, I’ll be killed! So I’ll just have to show you my invincible
warrior-killer technique!”
And he followed that up with a hair-raising chant.
“Run wild! Wind of pestilence!”
Allen gazed in surprise for a second when he realized it was not
magic but a curse as Seal revealed his unerring technique.
“Hal Reshef!”
A bewitching light shimmered in Seal’s eyes. Even Allen, whose legs
could allow him to completely evade a barrage of attacks and the full
brunt of an area of effect spell, could not evade a ray of light that
worked on eye contact.
Allen immediately covered his eyes with one arm after the flash of
dim, dark-purple light, as he stood there scolding himself for being

231 | P a g e
careless. It was uncommon for curses to do direct damage like attack
magics, so he did not move as he tried to determine the attributes of
the curse afflicting him.
There were no abnormalities in his extremities, and he could not
verify any kind of status ailments. Even if his magic or skills were
sealed, it was irrelevant, since he did not need anything other than
his raw strength to crush them. There were no obvious impediments
to his five senses. Based on the quick double check he performed,
Allen suspected it might be a counterattack sort of curse. The sort
that inflicted whatever damage the cursed person dealt back onto
them.
Having figured out from Seal’s speech that he was not the kind of
person to fight directly, Allen made a frustrated noise as he looked
back up.
“…?”
Seal had disappeared. And not just him. Allen could not see any of
the other soldiers, either. There was only the blue sky, the expanse
of sand, and the murderous heat of the sun beating down on him.
Allen’s thoughts immediately jumped to the idea he was
hallucinating, but he quickly rejected that hypothesis. The corpses of
the soldiers that Allen had killed were still visible, and the blood on
the sand was still there, too. And most of all, Allen’s keen nose could
still sense countless soldiers in the surroundings.
—Concealment? Did he drop a pain-in-the-ass illusion on me?
Allen’s brow furrowed as he looked on dubiously, preparing to follow
his nose to slam his spear home, but—
“Big Brother.”
That girl’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“—”

232 | P a g e
On his right, a girl suddenly appeared, tears in her eyes as she
stretched out her hand toward him. The way she struggled to walk
over to him was as if she had just suffered horrific injuries.
It was a catgirl wearing her battle gear, an adventurer like Allen. She
had a gold shoulder piece on the opposite shoulder from Allen and
brown fur. She did not have it with her there, but Allen knew that
she carried a golden spear as well.
The fearsome fighting cat Allen forgot his annoyance and hostility,
his eyes going wide as he stood there.
“Please wait, Big Brother…Don’t leave me behind!”
Without a doubt, it was Allen Fromel’s little sister, Ahnya.

It worked! I’ll be taking some more of that sweet, sweet high-rank

excelia!
Seal was sure of his victory.
He had changed locations, lowering his body and camouflaging
himself against the sand using his cloak, as he licked his lips while
watching Allen stand there stock-still.
He, of course, could not see Allen’s little sister. The person facing
Allen was an assassin from Resheph Familia with a poison dagger in
one hand hidden behind his back.
Hal Reshef. As Allen surmised, it was an illusionary curse. Seal, the
caster of the curse, had no way of knowing who the victim was
seeing, but knew it was that individual’s most beloved person. That
was the effect of Seal’s curse, Hal Reshef. It revived the traumatic
memories deep in his target’s heart, a curse that brought forth a
heartrendingly foul pestilence.
Seal had used that power to lay low countless warriors stronger than
himself. Given the nature of statuses and leveling up, it was

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essentially a rule that those who had accomplished great feats had
also paid some sort of price. Whether their dark past involved a
comrade, family, or a lover, they were all a perfect fit for Seal’s
curse. No matter how strong someone was, they would be shaken by
the appearance of the person most precious to them and replay
some tragic memory in their mind, leaving a fatal opening for Seal to
exploit.
It’s all thanks to this curse that I’ve gotten to Level Four.
Seal had no doubt that he was the weakest Level 4 in the world. Up
against a strong opponent, he could only gain excelia by catching
them off guard with tricks like that. His techniques and tactics were
mediocre, and his abilities were all at the lowest levels. The
adventure he had embarked upon was equivalent to the labor of
gradually whittling down a rampaging wild bull. He was not really a
warrior at all. He was a hexer.
However, Seal also had no doubt that he was the strongest. At the
very least as long as he wasn’t fighting a monster. He was the
strongest in the world when it came to fighting other people. There
was nothing fake about the most beloved person Allen was seeing at
that very moment. It was projected from within him and was without
doubt the person he truly loved above all else. Their shape, voice,
scent, feel—all of it was real. They were reflections of his own
memories, and no one would be able to doubt what had been
engraved deep in their own heart.
Of course not. How could anyone raise a hand against their most
beloved? The trauma every victim of Seal’s curse saw was like a
crossroad in life where the path had been chosen long ago and could
not be rejected or denied now.
My lackey’s dagger is coated in a powerful poison, a drop item
smuggled out of the Labyrinth City…You won’t be able to defend
against it no matter how strong you are.

234 | P a g e
There was a chance that when Allen was stabbed he might kill the
lackey in confusion, but that was fine. Seal had plenty of pawns
capable of playing the role of a victim’s most beloved. Allen could
not see them currently because of the curse, but all the scared
soldiers watching from the surroundings would do just fine. The
world Allen currently saw was a mixture of illusion and reality, and
until Seal released the curse, he would never break from the
nightmare of seeing his most beloved.
“So, how will you scream for me?”
Seal watched with a sadistic grin.
“…”
Allen looked down silently. The assassin moved closer, step by step.
The man who appeared nothing like the adventurer’s little sister to
Seal slowly lowered his arm. The voice tearfully calling for her big
brother rang in his cat ears. And the moment his sister was right
before his eyes—the moment the assassin’s blade could finally reach
him…
Allen swung his silver spear with all his might, turning his little sister
into a broken lump of flesh.
“–––––What?!”
Time froze for Seal and for all the members of Resheph Familia who
were familiar with his ability. The soldiers of Warsa were struck by a
pure terror. Having killed his little sister with his own hands, Allen
snapped like never before.
“You showed me a real pain in the ass…”
His chilling voice revealed that his normally restrained wrath had
broken free. His voice was brimming with murderous rage, causing
Seal to break into a cold sweat as he reflexively leaped backward.

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Whipping around faster than the wind, the fighting cat locked his
eyes onto Seal.
He should only be able to see his most beloved person—how did he
recognize me?!
Seal dropped all pretenses as he screamed:
“Someone stop hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim!”
Resheph Familia and the soldiers reflexively obeyed his order. The
soldiers all looked like Allen’s most-beloved person as they barreled
down on him. In Allen’s eyes, they looked exactly like his sister in her
adventurer’s equipment; like his sister wearing her uniform for the
restaurant; like his sister from days long past when she was young.
And not realizing the fuel he was adding to the flames of Allen’s
wrath, Seal watched what happened next. The cat’s body blurred as
he dodged and slaughtered every last one of the little sisters
charging at him.
“Wh-what are youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu?!”
His spear pierced and its shaft smashed as he unleashed a flurry of
blows to take the sisters apart. As Allen kicked up a storm wiping out
all the enemy troops, Seal could not stop himself from screaming as
he raised his twin blades. While the grunts were holding the cat back,
he frantically readied himself to finish the adventurer with his magic
swords.
However, the cat’s wrath had crossed its boiling point. Allen leaped
away from the remains of his most-beloved lying scattered around
the ground. The dune he had been standing on exploded from the
force of his leap as he unleashed his strongest charge, passing by
Seal, who was swinging his twin blades down.
“What?!”

236 | P a g e
A ray of light flashed past right as Seal’s arms swung down through
the air. But his arms had both disappeared below the elbows. He
froze when the magic swords he had been holding fell to the ground
behind him, sticking out of the sand.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH
?!”
An ear-splitting wail reverberated across the sands.
The shock of losing both his arms to Allen’s silver spear, the
lightspeed movement that was impossible to sense, the burning pain
in both his arms, and the sense of inescapable bloodlust that he
never before felt—all of it ate away at Seal’s mind, warping the elf’s
features as tears and beads of sweat coated his face, like he had lost
all hold on his senses.
“Hey, asshole.”
The sound of the man’s voice behind him was more chilling, more
terrifying than anything Seal had ever felt. Unable to breathe, Seal
struggled to fill his lungs as Allen’s subzero voice continued.
“You look just like some dumbass I hate more than anything in this
world, too.”
Liar, liar, liar! What you’re seeing is the person you love the most!
The irreplaceable other half of your soul! It can’t be the person you
hate the most!
—But why, then? Why can he so mercilessly and calmly swing his
spear at his most beloved—?
—What the hell is he seeing with those eyes of his?!
“Undo this curse now. If you don’t, I’ll murder you. Slowly and
painfully.”
“O-okay! I got it! I’ll do it! So don’t kill me!”

237 | P a g e
Allen threatened Seal with a low, quiet, murderous voice as the
bawling elf just about wet himself while intoning the curse removal.
“Be gooone, epidemic calamityyy!…It’s gone! It’s gone! You’re
greatest love is gone!!! So! So please don’t!”
Announcing that the curse was removed, Seal begged for his life, half
crying, half laughing.
Three seconds.
Allen gritted his teeth as tight as he could–––––and then swung his
spear down with one hand, splitting Seal straight down the middle.
“You didn’t undo anythiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!”
His howl thundered across the plains. Allen’s eyes still saw his little
sister, still saw that idiot, that disgrace.
His rage that had long since passed its boiling point and finally
reached its critical point. He instantly cut down Seal, who had lost his
reason and had not been able to control his magic well enough to
undo his own curse. Now the elf’s horrific corpse lay on the sand.
When Seal had failed to undo the curse, Allen had thought it would
end once the caster was dead, but even after cutting him in half, her
face was still all he could see. The effect continued even after the
caster was unconscious or even dead—meaning it was the type of
curse that would only disappear after a set amount of time had
passed.
Allen’s fur stood on end in rage. Sensing the danger, the soldiers,
who all looked like his little sister, cried out in terror as they tried to
run away from Allen’s silver spear.
Don’t fuck with me. I won’t allow it. I won’t forgive anyone
masquerading as that nitwit.
Allen would never accept that that was his truth. Because of that,
there was only one thing left to do.

238 | P a g e
“—I’m gonna slaughter every last one of them.”
Ghastly was the only word to describe what followed.
Generally speaking, it was impossible for an army to be entirely
wiped out. Once a force took greater than 30 percent losses, the
battle would usually be over. However, the division that Allen had
targeted was slaughtered to the last man by the fighting cat who
enthralled to his rage. In order to erase the scene that so disgusted
him, Allen summoned forth dozens of sandstorms, manifestations of
his wrath.

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240 | P a g e
“Whoa, whoa, they got Seal?!”
The transport and logistics squad. The true final line of Warsa’s army.
Inside a tent that had been set up there, even Resheph could not
hide his surprise at the reports flying in and the accelerating
disappearances of children who had received his blessings.
“Y-yes, sir! And the other elite members of your followers are being
defeated across all fronts! Our forces are not being allowed to
retreat or even be routed. The only division still capable of fighting is
Gorza’s main division!”
“What? There are only eight of them, right? Are you freaking kidding
me?” Resheph groaned, struggling to believe the reports he was
hearing.
“I’m not freaking kidding you, sir!”
Even a god like him could not see through what was happening on
the battlefield out there. But that did not stop him from breaking
into a smile.
“Damn, I’d rather my premonition wasn’t right, but it looks like I’m
gonna have to use my trump card. ☆”
Standing up as the soldier looked at him in confusion, Resheph left
the tent. He headed toward the part of the camp where supplies
were being kept. There was a strange sight to behold there. It was a
gigantic cargo container that would never be mistaken for carrying
weapons or rations in it. It required several hundred people to carry
it, and it contained the ace up Resheph’s sleeve.
“Iza, send this to the middle of the battlefield. Don’t worry, as long as
you have this magic item I got from those Evils guys, it will do as you
say. Probably.”

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Calling out to the lone tamer among his followers, he handed over a
crimson whip with jewels in the end of it. At his command, the tamer
swung the whip and a roar shook the ground. The giant cargo crate
shattered as the troops around it drew back. A giant shadow that
terrified even the tamer moved to the command of the whip and
started advancing toward the battlefield.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! You always gotta save your trump card for the
very end. ☆”
The god’s laughter rang out as everyone in the transport unit was
frozen in place. Resheph turned around to head back to his tent,
content that all that was left was for his trump card to take care of all
those getting in his way. But as he departed, he paused for a second
and turned to one of the messengers.
“Oh yeah, we got any word about who the enemy is? If they could
kill Seal and the others that easily, then it’s gotta be someone from
Orario, I’d imagine.”
“Y-yes, sir…the second and third divisions were assaulted by an elf
and a dark elf respectively…”
“Uh-huh, uh-huh.”
“And the fourth division and reserve forces were cornered by a
catman and four prums…”
“Uh-huh……hmm?”
“And the central division is being approached by a large boaz man…”
“…”
There, for the first time, Resheph’s composure finally cracked.

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A flurry of sand shot into the air. The Warsa general Gorza looked on
with a trembling gaze as the resulting cloud grew big enough to block
out the sun.
“What is he…?!”
The man held an unbelievably large sword. After he utterly smashed
both wings and the central unit, he calmly strolled through the path
he had created. The man did not needlessly kill anyone. He only
turned his blade on those who approached him, using his
overwhelming physical strength to crush them.
He was a boaz.
“We can’t even stop his advance…?! It’s just one man!” Gorza spat
out as he watched through binoculars from far at the back of the
main force.
The absurd reports he had just been getting from the various
divisions being destroyed had sounded like lies, but at this point he
had no choice but to believe them. The enemy really was attempting
to eradicate an army of eighty thousand with just eight people. But
Gorza could not give up. If they could not take Shalzad even after
bringing in an outside power, a pestilence, then his position and his
patron god’s authority would plummet.
Even if it was just petty pride, if he could not at least take out a single
enemy warrior—
“…?”
All of a sudden, a shadow appeared. He wondered if a cloud had
floated across the sun, but that was not it. It was a gigantic monster
whose head stretched up toward the sky.
“What?!”
More precisely, it was an enormous serpent. The gigantic monster
had appeared behind Gorza, from the direction of the supply lines.

243 | P a g e
“I-it can’t be…a basilisk?!”
It was a name that every resident of the desert realm knew from
bedtime stories. A feared and despised creature.
A basilisk.
It had the imposing figure of a serpent, but it was also unmistakably
a member of the dragon family, the strongest species of monsters.
The giant serpent breathed fire while spreading a paralyzing toxin
that seemed to petrify those afflicted by it. In ancient times, basilisks
had destroyed countless cities and spread such devastation around
the world that anecdotes about the menace of basilisks were still
told all around present-day Kaios.
Appearing behind the main force, the monster trampled the soldiers
in its path. More and more people cried out and abandoned their
positions to run away. This clash had long since ceased to be a battle
between humans. Gorza and his aide-de-camp desperately took
refuge to avoid being consumed by the chaos.

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245 | P a g e
This was Resheph’s trump card. The unleashed basilisk had already
killed the tamer. It had not been controlled by the whip, perhaps
because the collar placed around one of its fangs—which was as
large as a grown man—might not have been a finished product.
Either way, the monster had crushed the annoying man yelling
orders at it with its giant tail.
The basilisk swung its thick neck, as if only humoring the dead
tamer’s final words, and focused its gaze on Ottar.
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Its body was over twenty meders long.
It tore through the sea of sand and charged straight at Ottar. It was
an assault intended to crush anything in its way, a lethal technique
that would leave nothing in its wake.
To take it on, Ottar, who had until that moment only been holding
his sword with one hand, finally wielded it using both hands.
And then—
—he split the giant serpent’s body with a single slash.
“–––––––”
There was a loud noise as the two pieces of the serpent’s body fell to
the ground and a curtain of sand flew into the air. And there was an
enormous, deep slash left in the sand where Ottar’s attack had split
the ground. The desert fell silent.
His swing had caused a tremor that shook the entire battlefield. It
had reached not just the Warsa forces or Shalzad’s army but even Ali,
who was watching from afar.
While the soldiers of Warsa were frozen in place, the curtain of
floating sand gradually cleared, and their dusty faces turned pale as
they stared, speechless.

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The basilisk had been split perfectly down the middle and was lying
dead on the sand. And in the middle of its corpse stood the boaz
warrior still holding his sword where he had swung it down. The man
who had unleashed that tremendous slash slowly released his stance
and put the sword back on his shoulder as he had been carrying it
before.
“Raise the white flag.”
“What…?”
“We’re surrendering.”
Gorza lowered his binoculars as he gave that simple order to the
soldiers close by. Ignoring their confusion, the commander looked off
into the distance as he cast aside his fighting resolve.
“There’s no way we can match a monster like that.”
“A wise general…it would be a shame to kill him.”
Seeing the dozens of white flags being waved, Ottar thrust his giant
sword into the ground. His rust-colored eyes narrowed as he spoke.
“Hedin, I’m not going to kill them all. I want to give this potential a
chance to grow.”
The strongest adventurer left those words to the wind after
destroying the enemy’s will to fight with a single strike instead of
rampaging through countless soldiers.
The Battle of the Sindh ended with the warrior’s single blow.

“Prince! Prince Aram! General Jafar has rushed to your side!”

An old general and the troops he led approached Ali, who was
standing atop a high sand dune overlooking the battlefield. Behind

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the general was the Shalzad army marching beneath the battle flag
of the moon and jasmine.
“Your cunning in preparing a preemptive surprise attack is nothing
less than spectacular! Allow us to join in as well! We shall crush the
villains of Warsa! Where is the enemy?”
The old general Jafar was beside himself in joy at the prince’s
growth, and the soldiers behind him raised a hot-blooded battle cry.
But in response, Ali just continued to stare into the distance,
absorbed in the scene in front of her.
“I-it’s over…” Ali said, looking on in shock as she slowly raised a hand
and pointed to the results.
“Huh?”
“It’s…it’s really over…”
Countless Warsa soldiers were collapsed all across the giant desert
that lay before them. The tiny shadows at the edge of the horizon
were all the same. The corpses crumpled atop one another, and the
horrifically broken weapons and armor all combined to form tens of
thousands of gravestones. The atrocious Resheph Familia members
had all been killed. The wind was gradually burying their leader Seal’s
corpse under the sea of sand.
The main force commanded by Gorza, which had surrendered, was
bound with ropes and being led away by nervous Fazoul Trading
Company merchants who had stuffed themselves into armor. Jafar
and his troops froze at the sight, their jaws dropping.
“The giant walls surrounding Orario…” Ali caught her breath as she
subconsciously started speaking. “They aren’t for protecting their
city from outside attack, are they?…They’re for keeping the
adventurers locked away inside…?”

248 | P a g e
Ali was sure of it. And she was correct. That was why the Labyrinth
City hated allowing its assets to leave the city. Part of it was to keep
other influential groups from gaining power, but the true reason was
to keep the powerful upper-tier adventurers from being let loose
upon the world.
If Orario unleashed their adventurers, it might lead to genocide. That
thought was precisely what they wanted to keep the rest of the
world from thinking.
Ironically, all of their precaution was to prevent the world from
knowing that adventurers were just as much monsters as the
calamities they were fighting.
In the ancient times, people had built a fortress to keep the monsters
from flowing out of the giant hole and spreading across the land, a
predecessor to the current city walls. However, Ali realized that the
modern wall also served as a cage to keep the adventurers locked in
after witnessing that battle.
The victors standing atop the sand dune numbered just eight. A
boaz, a catman, a dark elf, a white elf, and four prums.
Ali was struck with awe again at the overwhelming victory that the
adventurers had achieved. The battle that decided the fate of
Shalzad and Warsa had been brought to an end by just those eight
followers.

The sun hung low, nearing the horizon as the sky gradually darkened.
The natural results after a battle were occurring in the Sindh
Expanse. The soldiers of Shalzad, who were disappointed at not
getting to fight, looked like they were in a dream as they carried
away the utterly ravaged corpses of the Warsa soldiers who had

249 | P a g e
caused them so much suffering. They still had not cleared away all
the dead bodies.
Resheph had disappeared in the chaos, running away somewhere.
The being who had sparked the flames of war himself had not been
captured, but the goddess had merely said, “Was there even a god
called that? Whatever, just leave it be. He’s not worth the effort,” as
if she was incapable of caring less.
The war was over. It was honestly debatable whether it could even
be called a war, but either way, the fighting was done. The invaders
had been removed—the girl’s oasis country was liberated.
“Ahhh, Solshana…! I’ve returned!”
Leaving the cleanup work to the soldiers, Ali and the generals headed
back to the capital first to report the destruction of Warsa and the
return of peace to their people as soon as possible.
There was a white marble palace and a castle town around it. The
beautiful cityscape had been wrecked during Warsa’s invasion and
the defenses had been mercilessly destroyed, but inside the walls,
the citizens who had been persecuted so badly raised a thunderous,
rolling cheer. And the voices that reached Ali’s band were hailing a
hero’s triumphal return. It was a bit uncomfortable for the generals
who had not done anything, but for Ali, it was a cheerful moment.
The capital she had fled so pitifully. The homeland she was finally
returning to. Her eyes began to fill with tears.
“…Freya!”
As the generals began to dismount from their camels, Ali turned back
and ran.
The goddess and her eight followers were standing with their backs
to the red sky.
Ali ran to the familia that had saved her.

250 | P a g e
“You have my eternal gratitude! Thanks to you, peace has returned
to Shalzad!”
“It has.”
“I could never have done this myself! Neither returning to my
homeland nor returning the smiles to my people’s faces!”
“Indeed.”
“Please accept my thanks! Though it may have been nothing more
than a whim to you…I was saved by you!”
“I’ve been accepting it for a while now.”
No matter how many times she shouted her thanks, Freya’s
responses were calm and collected. And having shouted too much,
Ali was gasping for breath as she quietly tried to calm her breathing
and locked eyes with the goddess’s silver gaze.
Time did not wait for her as the sun continued to set. Their shadows
grew. Long, shimmering shadows stretched out into the sea of sand.
The girl’s shadow flickered in the desert wind, trembling faintly. As if
she were fighting something within herself.
“…Freya…I…”
Lit by the sunset, she was struck by a feeling as if she were gradually
becoming just Ali and not Aram. The feeling of losing the mask and
armor of a king, her feelings being exposed. It had not even been two
weeks, but the time she had spent with Freya seemed to hit her all at
once. The anger, sadness, and despair. Each and every word the
goddess had spoken during that time echoed in her heart. A
maddening, indescribable thing was clawing at Ali.
Freya was just looking at her, making no attempt to say anything. Ali
was currently being faced with a choice. The goddess and her
followers before her. And the magnificent palace and her people, her

251 | P a g e
country, behind her. As if the sunset was telling her to choose,
forward or backward.
“…”
Ali glanced at the catman. Allen seemed about to say something, but
in the end, he said nothing. She could feel his gaze telling her, Make
up your own damn mind.
“…Prince Aram?”
Jafar and the others finally noticed Ali and turned around.
It’d be fine, wouldn’t it? Just take her hand.
No, of course it wouldn’t be fine to cast my country aside.
But what I truly want is—
Desire and conflict. A taboo agony afflicted the last remnants of her
rationality. And having lost Aram’s armor, the naked Ali could not
resist the impulse. She could not reject the irreplaceable time she
had spent with the goddess.
I’m sorry you were not born a man. I could not even grant you
happiness as a woman—
The words her mother had left her. That Ali would not be able to find
happiness as she was.
If it were me, I would fulfill your every need, whether as a man or a
woman…
The words of the goddess whose figure overlapped with her mother.
Her bold claim that she could grant Ali happiness.
For the first and final time in her life, Ali, who was unable to be
fulfilled as either a man or a woman, wanted to scream out her
selfish desires.
Just as she was about to stretch out her trembling hand—
“I don’t need you.”

252 | P a g e
The goddess’s voice stopped her.
“Eh…?”
“I said I don’t need you, Ali.”
Time froze for Ali as Freya repeated herself. Not understanding what
was happening, the girl froze.
“It was a miscalculation on my part. You aren’t suitable to be my
Odr.”
The goddess’s eyes narrowed coolly, as if measuring the brilliance of
the girl’s wavering heart.
Ali’s face filled with despair. The pain of being cast away rippled
through her like cracks opening up in her body. The disappointment
from the goddess, the one being in the world she did not want to
disappoint, seared her heart, causing tears to well up in her amethyst
eyes.
Wait. Please. Don’t go.
While those voiceless shouts filled her throat, the goddess started to
turn away.
“So go forth and live as a king.”
“–––––”
Ali’s eyes opened wide. And what she saw was not disappointment
or scorn on the goddess’s face but a smile lit by the setting sun. And
just like that, as if it were nothing, Freya turned away and started
walking. And her eight followers followed after her. There was no
farewell. No promise to meet again. No good-bye. The goddess just
passed from Ali’s sight like a breeze.
The desert wind blew, and hair fluttered as a lone tear trickled down
a single cheek.
“Are you sure, milady?” Ottar asked.

253 | P a g e
“Yes,” Freya responded as she continued walking. “She can’t set
aside her country. Even if she did what I wanted, her radiance would
be gone.”
Freya had seen Ali’s conflict. Not only that, she had not allowed the
girl to choose. She had pushed Ali away herself.
“The reason she could resist my beauty was because she was a king.
What captivated me about her was the brilliance she had as she tried
to behave as a king. If she stopped being that, then that brilliance
would become something boring…would degrade to something no
different from anyone else.”
An Ali who was not a king was just a girl like any other. Just an
unpolished gem that might as well be a stone. Because Freya could
not attain her, she could become a glimmering jewel whose brilliance
Freya could respect and enjoy from afar. So Freya would respect that
beautiful radiance rather than try to keep it for herself.
“I got a little bit attached, but…using that excuse to please myself
and rob her of her potential would be wrong.”
She looked back over her shoulder just once. The girl was still
standing there, her eyes not looking away at all despite how far they
had gotten. However, finally, she raised her arm and rubbed her
eyes. And as if conveying her determination, she turned her back on
Freya and started walking. Toward the people waiting for their king.
Toward the desert kingdom.
Freya smiled one more time, like a mother watching over her child.
“Sorry, Allen. I wasted all your effort.”
“…I don’t know to what you might be referring. Did you perhaps
imagine something?” Allen responded indignantly.
“Hee-hee. Sure. Let’s call it that,” Freya said, giggling softly.

254 | P a g e
Ottar and the other followers glanced back at the girl just one time.
Hedin looked back the longest, but finally, even he turned his back.
As followers who had sworn their loyalty to their goddess, they
would accompany her. Freya stopped at the top of a high sand dune
with them at her side as she announced her farewell to the desert
realm.
“So, shall we go back to boring Orario, a place more intense than any
other?”

The series of battles involving Shalzad and Warsa and later Israfan
would later come to be known as the Calamity of the Hot Sands.
From the impossible-seeming start of losing its capital, the Kingdom
of Shalzad faced a threat to its very existence, and having survived
that, it started developing at a pace that left neighboring countries in
awe. And it went without saying, of course, that the brilliance of the
fifteenth king, King Aram Raza Shalzad, was crucial to those
developments.
The Battle of the Sindh led to the decline of Warsa and neither they
nor Resheph Familia—who had been active behind the scenes in the
lead up to the battle—ever threatened Shalzad’s peace again.
Rumors spread from the Labyrinth City that their country was under
the protection of a certain strongest familia, though those rumors
were never confirmed or denied.
It is impossible to determine the truth of the matter, but a statue to
the eight gallant heroes who were said to have saved the country
was constructed in the central plaza of the reconstructed Solshana at
King Aram’s behest. And apparently there was quite a debate about
whether or not those statues’ faces resembled some certain
adventurers.

255 | P a g e
And while the kingdom was developing, it was said that the muscular
organization, the Fazoul Trading Company—which had apparently
undergone a muscle revolution—was always there supporting it.
Bofman Fazoul, who had worked so hard in the shadows during the
war with Warsa to aid King Aram and continued to support the king
afterward, was the man of the hour, and on the back of his muscles
charisma, his trading company became extremely successful. The
rebuilding of Leodo progressed, and having stepped away from the
slave-trading business, the Fazoul Trading Company became famed
for never losing out to armies in terms of military power—a rather
dubious claim to fame.
Shalzad experienced a golden age thanks to the rule of King Aram.
The king was widely hailed as the greatest player of Halvan in the
Kaios Desert, and he used his strategic prowess in political and
military affairs as well, and when the time came to put up or shut up,
history remembered him as always daringly stepping up to the table.
It was said that the king experienced an awakening during the
Calamity of the Hot Sands, though he had a playful side as well, and
would steal away from his advisers to go play Halvan around town,
and he was seen many times out walking around enjoying a kebab.
King Aram was a handsome man who was wise, indulged in many
pleasures, and was always beloved by his people. He would later be
known as King Aram the Wise. At the time, he was recorded as
having said:
“In the midst of that turbulence, a silver light shone upon me.
“It resembled both the moonlight high in the night sky and the
ripples on the surface of the oasis. That light delivered a revelation
from the heavens. In order to never turn my back on the teachings
that light granted me, I continued pushing forward so that I could
hold my head high with pride. That was all.”

256 | P a g e
He left a successor and continued to rule justly until the very end,
and he was hailed by all for his enlightened rule. His reign and his
immense efforts led to the first-ever great power being born in the
central region of western Kaios.
“The Heroic King.”
“He Who Rules the Board.”
“Aram and the Eight Warriors.”
He was known by many different names and his tale was passed
down to later generations in anecdotes and children’s stories.
And whether a certain beautiful goddess smiled when word of those
feats reached her ears—the world may never know.

257 | P a g e
I guess there really isn’t an Odr for me?
Freya had nothing but time on her hands after coming back from the
Kaios Desert.
Ali had been fantastic. Despite her immaturity, she had overturned
Freya’s expectations, and the way she transformed to such a brilliant
jewel had been enough to give Freya some hope.
But in the end, it was not her. She was not the one Freya was looking
for. Her brilliance was a radiance intrinsic to her regal stature. If
Freya tried to take her for herself, that radiance would disappear.
If she had made Ali hers then and there, she would have been
reduced to nothing more than any other girl. Just another
inconsequential person seeking nothing more than the goddess’s
love, just like everyone else. If that happened, Freya would soon
bore of her and start looking for another encounter. That was why
there wasn’t anything she could do. But it was disappointing enough
to cause a fair amount of sighing on the goddess’s part.
Her aimless days continued as before.
The mortal realm was stimulating. That much was certainly true. A
smile would cross her lips when she heard the stories the children
wove for themselves, and she was happy to see her followers grow
as well. But at the same time, it was true that something was missing
for her. Some corner of her heart was still unsatisfied.
Despite the invitations of various deities, she did not make an
appearance at the feast of gods or at Denatus, choosing instead to
wallow in the poison of boredom.
I guess I really can’t find my Odr in this mortal realm—but just as
she was about to give up—
That was when she found that boy.

258 | P a g e
The glimmer of his soul was incredibly small. It paled in comparison
to the brilliance of her followers. But it was clear. Entirely see-
through. A color Freya had never before seen.
White? A snow white. No, it’s translucent.
She had never seen a soul like that before in Orario. White hair like
driven snow and rabbitlike rubellite red eyes. A human. Freya spent a
lot of time observing the children of the city, but it was her first time
seeing him. A new arrival to the city? A new adventurer starting out
on his journey? No, none of that mattered—
—I want him.
That was what she thought the moment she saw him. It was a feeling
she had not had for a while. Not since she had left Ali. A chill as her
body trembled, a twinge in the pit of her stomach, an ecstatic sigh
crossing her lips. The unseemly, childish desire to make him her own
reared its head.
It was a purely divine sort of desire. Faced with the unknown, deities
would never lose interest.
But on the other hand, another wish took root, like a pure bunch of
flowers beginning to blossom.
What sort of color will it become? Perhaps it’ll stay translucent and
clear? And most importantly, can he fulfill my true wish?
Her lips spread into a smile that no one could see. She had only just
seen the boy for the first time.
First I need to find out his name. And what familia he’s in. If he’s
another god’s follower, I’ll probably steal him away someday. I should
find out his relationship with his patron god.
She had messed up a bit with Ali. She had been in too much of a rush
and ended up inspiring too much reverence in the girl. What she
sought in her Odr was not a one-sided sort of a respect.

259 | P a g e
It was true that she had wanted Ali to shine all the brighter, to shine
bright enough to make even a goddess like Freya long for her. But
this time she would rein in that divine imperiousness a little. She
decided to watch his development for a while first.
I probably won’t be able to resist flirting a little bit, though. But
getting to know him slowly, ever so slowly, will be fine. Just gradually
shrink the distance.
All the effort that deities might consider unnecessary would
absolutely be required in order to fulfill her true desire.
She smiled in her heart, where no one else could see. There was just
a single thought in her mind that no one else could know.

—I hope you will be the one to become my Odr.

260 | P a g e
261 | P a g e
His oldest memories were of a musty smell, a freezing cold that
burned the skin, and a merciless, brutal dark night.
A deserted alley and a night sky streaked with lonely moonlight.
His stomach should have been empty, but it had passed its limit and
no longer even grumbling for food. It was reduced to just sapping
away his strength and body heat. Every part of him felt cold as ice,
but this poor child had no way to realize how alone he was. It was an
almost laughable.
He did not know why he was there. He did not even know who he
was. He had no name. No family. He had been abandoned. He didn’t
think or suffer. He wasn’t aware of anything.
There was no way a young child who was not even conscious of the
passage of time would be able to escape that place.
He felt like his instinct to live had put up a bit of a fight at first, but
even that ran out of strength soon enough. Ignorance robbed him of
any chance at a livelihood and a consciousness without desire made
him little more than a plant.
He was weak. Nothing more than a pitiful lump of meat that could do
nothing but wait for death. But fate, or more specifically, a goddess,
did not forsake him.
“Are you all alone?”
Long silver hair and matching jewellike eyes.
He should have just been waiting to die, but his eyes opened wide at
the sight of that otherworldly embodiment of beauty as he was
captivated by her. He stopped breathing and forgot how to speak. To
this toddler’s eyes, she looked like the manifestation of something
that surpassed the natural laws of the world.

262 | P a g e
In an instant, the cruel, cold darkness fell away and a halo of silver
light filled his faded-out vision.
Time had stopped for him as the silver-haired goddess’s eyes
narrowed.
“—So pure,” she said as she held out her hand.
And the young child silently accepted it. She lifted him in her arms.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
The child could not respond. He did not know his name or even his
lineage. He was not even truly self-aware yet. Because of that, to his
immature mind, the goddess lifting him up became the entirety of
his world. She was everything to him.
“All right, then I’ll give you a name.”
Her smile at that moment was utterly cute, like an innocent young
girl’s, and even now that that child had grown up, he still
remembered it.
“You will be Ottar.”
The Warlord, Ottar. That was the day the current strongest
adventurer of the Labyrinth City raised his first cry.

The sky was clear, and the Labyrinth City, Orario, was full of energy.
A melting pot where travelers, merchants, and adventurers mingled
together in a lively bustle.
And in the south of the city, at one corner of the shopping district,
there was a certain place filled with a distinctly different kind of
activity.
Folkvangr. The home of Freya Familia, the city’s strongest faction.
White and yellow rings of flowers bloomed in a beautiful field and an

263 | P a g e
enormous manor—almost a temple or palace, even—had been built
on the hill at the center of the estate. It was like a little world all its
own, cut off from the rest of the town. It was a grand scene like a
painting brought to life.
And all around that field, an intense death match was unfolding.
“I shall have Lady Freya’s favor!”
“For milady! For her love!”
“Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
Many of the familia members were crossing blades. The lowest-level
members, Level 1s, and the largest group of the familia, the mid-tier
Level 2s and 3s, as well as the strongest participating in the struggle,
the Level 4s. Her followers were all fighting among one another. It
was a death match to gain the goddess’s favor, to be of some use to
the goddess. The never-ending sounds of intense battle were at odds
with the calm and clear blue sky.
And amid all that, Ottar was calmly walking through the giant field.
He did not even glance at the blood and roars, walking confidently
right next to the battling warriors.
There were none who tried to attack him. Or more to the point, none
could. No matter how hot-blooded and passionate the members of
Freya Familia might be, they had no interest in receiving even one of
his fierce blows and losing the entire day to recovering. Once in the
past, almost all of the familia had conspired together to attack him at
the same time, but every last one of them had been beaten down.
When he first joined the familia, Ottar had also taken part in that
baptism. There was a time when he had been crushed by earlier
members of the familia who were long gone, when he had coughed
up blood but still kept on fighting and fighting and fighting, all for the
sake of being the goddess’s strength.

264 | P a g e
It was a nostalgic memory, but at the same time it caused him to
furrow his brow because of the annoyed glare and the pained “I’m
getting really tired of having to heal people on death’s door…” he got
from the skilled healer Freya had brought in to the familia—ahem—
because of the objections that he had gotten about it.
In his role as leader of the familia, as opposed to the worries of a
simple warrior, the merciless combat among members of the familia
was a massive headache. He had tried to hide it by maintaining a
studied silence behind a stern face, but that only got him lambasted.
“There’s no point in trying to hide it behind that tough look…”
His qualities as a leader were assuredly lacking in comparison to a
certain prum, but Ottar also had no intention of ending the trial by
fire, either. It was what made Freya Familia what it was.
The desire to gain the goddess’s favor, to become a better version of
oneself that was suitable for the goddess—that thought was
foundational to every one of her followers. In other words, it was all
for Freya’s sake. And because of that thought, they continued to
fight, polishing themselves, ridding themselves of weakness,
reaching for ever greater heights. And Ottar was no different. Not
when he first joined, and not now.
Entering the manor at the top of the hill, Ottar headed straight to his
patron goddess’s room.
“Lady Freya, may I?”
For once, Freya was in their home and not occupying the upper floor
of Babel. The silver-haired goddess was by herself, sitting in an
elegant chair.
“Is there something you need, Ottar?” she asked as she glanced at
him.
“I would like to take a short leave.”

265 | P a g e
“Oh?” Freya stopped flipping the page of her book. Her eyes
narrowed as he piqued her interest.
Ottar basically never asked to leave his post as Freya’s attendant of
his own volition. Other than the female attendants who waited on
her hand and foot, being at her side was something that only one
person was allowed to do. It could be said that the follower who had
most gained her favor was the one who was allowed to become her
attendant. It was the greatest honor available to members of Freya
Familia.
So for the same Ottar who had sworn his loyalty to Freya, who
continued to worship her and exert his all at her side, to ask to leave
her side…patron goddess that she was, there was no way she would
not be intrigued.
“Where do you plan to go?”
“The Dungeon.”
The answer was plain and simple. And it seemed Freya had
anticipated it, since she smiled without showing any surprise.
“Before this, you went on an expedition by yourself, going all the
way to the forty-ninth floor, was it? You were quite ragged when you
came back, as I recall. You don’t imagine I’d allow a similar attempt,
do you?”
In order to avoid becoming rusty, Ottar would work in some training
from time to time. It had been a long time ago at this point, but for
his last training session he had gone by himself on an expedition into
the Dungeon to reach the lowest floor he could alone.
His failure to finish off the floor boss Balror in Moitra Sands on the
forty-ninth floor was still a shameful memory and a stain that he
wanted to clear someday, but that was not his goal this time.

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“The thirty-seventh floor’s Monster Rex…I would like to defeat
Udaeus.”
That request was apparently not in the realm of what Freya was
imagining, though. She was not particularly surprised, but her lips
curled in amusement.
“When the sword princess defeated Udaeus, it had a certain sword
equipped. I would like to obtain that.”
Three months ago, Aiz Wallenstein’s great achievement, defeating
the floor boss of a deep level by herself, had made waves in the city.
At the time, it had been the talk of the town, and Aiz had risen up to
Level 6 herself off the back of it.
In all the histories of Orario, there were no records of Udaeus having
a sword. The Guild’s announcement based on Aiz’s report was that it
was possible that the drop item Udaeus Black Sword could spawn in
the event of facing Udaeus one-on-one or possibly with a very low
number of people.
Ottar was saying that he very much wanted to get his hands on that
extremely rare item. As a Level 7, the strongest adventurer, there
were very few weapons capable of withstanding his strength.
Because of that, he wanted to acquire it.
“Liar.”
However, Freya immediately rejected his excuse. Her silver eyes
could see his true feelings.
“It inspired you, didn’t it? Your heart lit up when you heard about
her feat.”
“…”
“You’re always like that. Even having reached Level Seven, you’re still
not satisfied.”

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Ottar did not say anything. And Freya did not challenge that. The
beautiful goddess smiled as she accepted her follower’s request.
“Very well, you may go.”
However, she placed a single condition on his journey.
“Make sure you come back strong enough for me to dream about.”

Having been picked up by Freya, Ottar did not immediately join the
ranks of the goddess’s followers.
He only received her blessing several years later, after he had clearly
established a sense of his self. Until then, Freya would take care of
him from time to time—probably because there was something
about his soul that caught her attention. But the toddler Freya had
named Ottar did not cry or laugh. He merely trotted along behind
the goddess without any trace of cuteness. Apparently even Freya
had shrugged at his behavior, describing it as disappointing.
After receiving Freya’s blessing, it was two years before Ottar rose to
Level 2.
However, between when he received Falna and when he began
fighting—when he first immersed himself in that never-ending
struggle—there was actually a blank period, so in truth, it had only
actually taken him one year to level up. Ottar could still be called a
boy when he gradually began to stand out from the rest of the
familia.
“Uoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
Ottar roared with a deep voice unbefitting his age and size as he
underwent the familia’s baptism.
The fierce internal conflict. The pinnacle of cutthroat death matches.
He and the rest of Freya’s followers fought on the fields of Folkvangr

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that were unchanged to this day. He swung a sword the length of his
body, lashing out at people far older, larger, and most importantly,
incomparably stronger, only to be blown away and left coughing up
blood every day.
As Ottar remembered it, the baptism in those days was more intense
than at any other time.
—Why are you fighting?
It was not a question that anyone ever asked him, nor one that he
asked himself. He had no room for any shred of doubt. It was really
quite simple: There was nothing else Ottar could do.
He had received a name, a blessing, food, clothes, a roof over his
head, emotions, and warmth from Freya. She was everything to him.
Taken to the extreme, from the day she picked him up, his entire
world had been made whole through her existence alone.
With his unsociability and simplicity, he could not please Freya.
There was nothing he could give her in return. So all he could do was
strive for power. Strength. He had nothing but his strength. He could
do nothing but strive to be stronger. Because Freya desired peerless
brilliance.
The roots of the warrior who sought strength with a tireless,
ceaseless devotion were exceedingly simple. His foundational
memories were of that cold moonlit night when he encountered the
goddess and of Folkvangr consumed by the Einherjar’s savage,
restless battle. The shimmering, twilight plains were like a beautiful,
golden sea, despite the countless weapons sticking out of the
ground.
“Not dead yet, are ya?”
“…Mia.”

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His body was battered and beaten, covered in wounds, and one eye
was swollen shut as he lay facing the sky. This was back when he
spent a lot of time seeing the darkness spreading through the sky
from the east. It was a given that the only person who would bother
to talk to Ottar was a certain dwarf.
Mia Grand. She was at least twenty years older than Ottar, one of
the members of the familia before he joined. At the time, she had a
more dwarflike stature, was cute and lovely, and—ga-ha-ha-ha.
Anyway, she had a figure worthy of being called a follower of a
goddess of beauty. However, despite appearances, her personality
was both strong-willed and straightforward. Her presence in the
familia was less a heroine and more a plucky mother figure.
She had apparently been asked by Freya to keep an eye on Ottar to
make sure he did not die.
“A right pain in my ass,” she would say as she grabbed the unmoving
Ottar by the collar and dragged him to the manor.
Mia was special, even among their familia. She did not revere Freya.
And Freya, for her part, treated Mia as almost an equal in some
respects.
Apparently Mia had been working in a tavern in a certain part of
town and been scouted by Freya and grudgingly dragged into the
familia. She must have owed Freya for something, because she had
thrown in her lot with the familia despite very obviously not being
particularly interested in it.
With that sort of background, the one and only member of the
familia who did not fight for the sake of Freya had a lot of enemies.
But she silenced them all with a single fist.
There was no counting the number of times familia members had
immediately pounced when she entered Folkvangr only to just as

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immediately get sent flying themselves. Given a chance, the
mountain of people she could pile up was unbelievable.
She was just too strong. So much so it was inspiring. And Freya
herself quite enjoyed Mia’s actions. Ottar could not believe his eyes
the time he saw Freya holding her stomach in pain from the laughter
when she heard Mia’s war stories.
“All right, hurry up and eat, you numbskulls!”
“““………Seconds, please.”””
And more than anything, the food Mia served was exquisite.
The familia members who had been fighting from dawn to dusk all
gathered in the enormous Sessrúmnir hall at the center of the home
and silently wolfed down Mia’s cooking and booze. Whenever Ottar
reminisced about back then, he found himself thinking that her food
might as well have been the reason the members at the time were
able to restore themselves in order to continue facing the most
intense baptism in the history of the familia, and how unfortunate
were the familia members nowadays who still had the unceasing
death matches but did not have Mia’s food.
Mia Grand was just plainly, simply, and overwhelmingly strong. She
rose to the top as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She
was a being who existed in a realm far beyond where the Ottar of
that time could even imagine.
Before anyone really noticed, Mia had easily become the head of the
familia.
“What do I have to do in order to surpass you?” Ottar had asked her
once, before he had even gone through puberty.
It was late at night, and he had not been able to return to the home
because he had passed out in the field. Mia was out on the moonlit
plains, heating up a pot—apparently people not eating was the thing

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that most annoyed her—stirring up a stew with her ladle as he stared
fixedly at her with his battered body.
The question from the boy who was still lacking in knowledge and
experience, who could by no means be called a warrior yet, drew a
single glance from Mia, who continued to prepare the food.
“Think.”
“Think…?”
“Far as I’m concerned, I couldn’t care less about gettin’ stronger, but
no matter what I’m doin’ I always try to think about it. As best I can
as a silly little dwarf, at least.”
“…”
“Folks who can’t think can’t live. That’s true no matter the time or
the place, but it goes double for Orario nowadays with so many
monsters all in one spot.”
Mia’s response was simple.
It was by no means the answer that Ottar was looking for at the
time. However, Mia’s simple advice took root deep in his heart.
“And if after thinkin’ it through, you still can’t understand somethin’,
then the first thing to do is ask. If you don’t, you’ll never learn
anything. At least in my experience.”
Mixing in some spices and then lifting the ladle to check the flavor,
Mia grinned as she served up a wooden bowl filled to the brim with
stew.
“Well, in the plainest sense, though…folks who don’t eat won’t ever
get stronger or grow up.”
Ottar quietly looked at the bowl she held out and silently accepted it.
The rising steam warmed his eyes and nose as he helped himself to
the fragrant stew.

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That day, Ottar finished off the entire pot of stew by himself. And
from that day on, he started eating so much that Freya’s eyes went
wide at the sight, all in order to develop a physique adequate for a
heroic warrior.
“Mia, are you really going to leave the familia?”
“I’m talking about someday. Not now. Besides, that goddess won’t
totally throw me out on my ass. Though I’m sure I’ll end up sighing in
my mind when she comes a-callin’.”
“…Don’t go. I still haven’t beaten you yet,” Ottar asked with a
subdued, deeper voice.
Around the time his voice had started to deepen, Ottar had already
passed Mia in height.
He had heard from Freya that Mia would end up leaving the familia
someday, but his desire to stop her from leaving was not because
they were comrades. Yes, far from it. But she was still necessary in
order to achieve the strength he could envision. He needed to
surpass her no matter what.
“What’s the point in gettin’ hung up on me, idiot. Look at the world
around ya. The only thing that’s grown about you is that body of
yours.”
“…”
His relationship with Mia was a bit of an odd one. It could not really
be called a maternal sort of relationship nor were they really equals
as comrades in arms. Their connection did not really go beyond the
realm of associates. Forced to describe it in words, it was probably
more like an adult listening to a child’s self-indulgent complaints.
As Ottar fell silent, Mia swung around, and a grin appeared on her
beautiful and sweet face.

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“Besides, there’ll be swarms of folks chasing you after this, just like
you’re chasing after me.”

Leaving the silver manor that resembled the moon, Ottar departed
the familia’s home to head toward the Dungeon and easily passed
through the middle levels.
He had the greatsword that was his weapon, a lightweight armor
that was a bit on the heavier side, and a knapsack filled with rations
and water. That was the only equipment he brought with him.
The scene of the Warlord heading through the Dungeon caused
many to fall back and open the way for him, and others got excited
as they looked on from afar. It was rare for him to head into the
depths of the Dungeon equipped for a stay in the labyrinth, since he
was always attending to his patron goddess. Reports of “I saw
Ottar!” became the talk of Rivira, the relay town on the eighteenth
floor.
For better or worse, the appearance of the city’s strongest being and
adventurer caused the monsters to become restless, forcing them to
clear out. The monsters that could not comprehend their difference
in strength and just attacked on instinct crumbled to dust with a
single blow from his sword, leaving behind a trail of ash in Ottar’s
wake.
Neither monsters nor people could stop his advance.
—At least that was how it should have been.
“…”
When he reached the water metropolis that started at the twenty-
fifth floor, he ran down the Great Falls, the largest waterfall in the
labyrinth that cut down to the twenty-seventh floor. After landing at
the bottom, Ottar started to proceed to the passage to the twenty-

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eighth floor when he noticed a certain presence and silently turned
around.
He was standing on the edge of the basin at the bottom of the falls
when a catman wielding a silver spear appeared before him.
“Allen…”
And not just him. The four prums in full battle armor and a dark elf
appeared, surrounding Ottar on the beach.
“…A message from Lady Freya?”
Had something happened aboveground, was the question implicit in
Ottar’s tone.
“You aren’t that stupid, Ottar,” Allen responded quietly.
It was rare for Allen’s voice to be so soft, but his gaze was far from
kind. His eyes were blazing with a thirst for battle unlike ever before.
“Hee-hee-hee-hee…If an even more refined blade is the paradise the
world desires, then we too won’t stop until we reach that same
realm…”
Translation: If polishing oneself through combat is the tacit
agreement of the familia, then it applies to us first-tier adventurers
as well. Needless to say, Hegni had a more dangerous air about him
than usual as well.
The intense intra-familia struggle was not something reserved for
just the lower-level members. It was of course obvious that Allen and
the other first-tier adventurers were also constantly reaching for
ever greater heights out of their devotion to Freya. There was
nothing strange about the fact that they would want to drag down
Ottar, who was the strongest not just in the city but in the familia as
well.

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For the core of the familia, fighting aboveground—the day-to-day
baptism of Freya Familia—was off-limits. It was a measure put in
place to avoid provoking other factions unnecessarily.
However, Freya had never said anything about fighting in the
Dungeon. And this time, unlike when he trained the minotaur
previously, his trip to the Dungeon was not at Freya’s behest for the
purposes of conditioning a certain boy.
Because of that, they could fight.
“Wait. At least save it for after. Right now, I—”
“Silence, Ottar. As her followers, we’re not content to always be
scurrying around beneath your feet. That is unacceptable. We’re
going to defeat you and surpass you.”
The prum Alfrik cut Ottar off, and his younger brothers chimed in,
too, not taking kindly to him looking down on them from his position
as a Level 7.
“Quit stalling, boar.”
“You’re a perfect-sized serving of experience.”
“Yum, look at all that excelia.”
“…” It was about time for even Ottar to get angry.
“Let’s do this. Today’s the day I’m gonna tear you down,” Allen said.
The first-tier adventurers were raring for battle, and Ottar dropped
his knapsack. His expression was unchanged. Anger, sadness,
bitterness—none of those emotions were visible as he merely
readied his weapon to respond to their challenge.
The cat, dark elf, and prums charged in all at once.

Turning back time a bit.

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Ottar had trained his body and spirit through the daily baptisms,
fostered a repertoire of techniques and tactics through a diligent
study and consideration, and constructed a body of steel by eating
an awe-inspiring amount of Mia’s homemade food every day,
transforming him into a powerful man.
At the age of seventeen, he had become the undisputed second-in-
command of the familia. He was Level 5. However, more so than his
own developments, what changed was his relation to his
surroundings.
He had already met his fated rivals—perhaps inescapable
acquaintances would be more accurate—the three leaders of Loki
Familia, and they were already competing ruthlessly. At home, Hegni
and Hedin, who would become core members in the future, joined
Freya Familia. And then the Gulliver brothers. And finally Allen and
his little sister. Chosen by the goddess, they demonstrated the
capacity of heroes as they achieved level-ups at a similar or even
faster rate than Ottar had.
Mia had already left the familia by that time. In the end, he was
never able to settle things with her, but he understood what she had
said before she left. Somewhere along the way, Ottar had gone from
being the challenger to the goal.
Hegni and Hedin, the Gulliver brothers, and Allen were chasing after
him like he was their mortal enemy. They were forging themselves
for the goddess’s sake just as he had in the past, racing toward
greater heights, determined to overcome Ottar and teamwork be
damned. It was so bad that once, when they had gone on an
expedition to the deep floors, they ignored the monsters, and the
eight of them started fighting one another instead. The expedition
ended up being a failure, of course, and even Freya could not help
sighing heavily at the result, so ever after, they all practiced self-

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restraint so that a similar situation would never happen again. But it
was only ever that: self-restraint.
Orario was already in the depths of its darkest period, and he passed
through the Labyrinth City’s dark age with them. There were many
meetings and farewells. All of the members of the familia from
before Ottar joined had died. Allen’s little sister had disappeared
from his side. They had all been cast aside during the hero’s trials.
That was how Freya Familia’s strongest core and greatest assets in
battle were formed. Ottar and the current generation were without a
doubt the strongest Einherjar in the familia’s history.
And without realizing it, Ottar had become the head of the familia.
Truly without realizing it. He threw himself into fighting so much that
he was not even really aware of himself as the leader of the familia.
However, even if his position changed, the path he was walking
down did not. What he needed to accomplish was the same as it
ever was.
He honestly, simple-mindedly, pathologically, even foolishly chased
after ever greater strength. And Allen, the Gullivers, and Hegni and
Hedin, they all ferociously chased after him. However, while he felt
quite bad about it, more so than most anything else—they did not
register in Ottar’s eyes at all.
He showed them respect, but they were only ever presences behind
Ottar. And his eyes were only ever focused on what was in front of
him. On the age that had already passed.
One day, a dumbfounded young familia member, a healer who was
entrusted with the cleanup after the daily baptism, who often looked
exhausted, asked him, “What’s even the point of getting stronger
than you already are?”

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It was a stupid question. A truly foolish thing to ask. But it would
have been rude to point that out to her. Because she did not know
any better.
Yes, everyone hailed Ottar as the pinnacle. They all feared him as the
strongest. Not realizing that that name itself just spurred on his
fighting spirit. Not realizing that he was seething, not seeing the
magma-like emotions in the depths of his heart hidden behind his
boulder-like, solid-steel exterior and unflappable demeanor.
Apparently someone once said that the life of a warlord is far
harsher and far more dazzling than anyone else’s.
Ottar’s response was simply:
“Don’t make me laugh.”
Mia and his rivals—those three leaders—they were probably the
only ones who understand how he felt.

“Damn it!” Allen’s interspersed his deadly dance with vehement

curses.
Ottar easily parried the silver spear thrusts aimed at his neck using
his greatsword.
A hole had been opened in the wall of the waterfall basin. The
aftershock of a magic blast had created a giant opening leading into
the labyrinth right next to the Great Falls, so the first-tier
adventurers had shifted their battle to a more expansive room—a
broad crystal hill surrounded by a current of water. The clusters of
crystals growing around the room flickered.
The six figures moved at a speed the average person could not hope
to follow, their movements reflected in the room’s many crystals.
The poor monsters foolish enough to mistake them for prey were

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either knocked back the moment they entered the battlefield or else
shredded to pieces.
“…Nrgh!”
And standing at the center of that broad hill, that island, was Ottar,
fending off the others’ attacks. The cat was moving fast enough to
leave afterimages as he unleashed a rain of spear thrusts, the dark
elf had already used Dáinsleif to transform into the king of battle and
was splitting the ground with his intense slashes, and the four prum
brothers were using their peerless teamwork to attack from any and
all directions without pause. The boaz warrior was exposed to a
fearsome torrent of blows from six first-tier adventurers.
However, it was Allen and the other attackers who could not conceal
their irritation as they continued the assault.
The silver spear that barely registered to the eyes as a fleeting slash
was deflected with a single arm’s gauntlet, the black sword brimming
with destructive power was swept aside by a single swing of his
greatsword, and the four weapons flying in from the front, back, left,
and right were knocked down by an arc drawn by that same
greatsword.
The attackers scowled.
There were scratches here and there on Ottar’s rocklike skin, but his
body had not sustained any sort of real damage.
Allen leaped forward, ready to kill as Ottar fended them off with a
single sword.
“You’re too light. You should eat more, Allen.”
“What are you, my mom? Fuck off and die!”
The intercepted spear, and Allen with it, were blown away like a
feather in a gale. The cat howled in rage as he flew through the air,
twisting his body to land on a crystal pillar only to leap off with so

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much force that cracks started to form on the crystal. But faced with
a tremendous thrust that pierced through the atmosphere itself,
Ottar dodged by merely twisting his body.
The silver spear split the air and pierced the hill, the force of the
impact leaving a crater and sending fragments of crystal flying
through the air. As the fragments fell, disrupting Ottar’s field of view,
a split second after the boaz warrior squinted his eyes, the Gulliver
brothers attacked, not overlooking the smallest of openings.
“Don’t block it!” “Don’t deflect it!” “What’s the point of a surprise
attack?!” “Don’t warp space-time with that muscle of yours!”
“I’m not doing anything like that.”
Ottar ably defended against the simultaneous attack in an instant
while responding sincerely to Grer’s comment.
As the four brothers readied a combination attack from low to the
ground, so low that Ottar’s attacks could not even reach, the boaz
lowered his hips in order to deal with all four of them.
“You rely too much on your height to attack from below. Take the
top, too. If you don’t, you won’t be able to make full use of your
stature.”
“I see you’ve got it easy enough to be handing down advice!”
“Are you looking down at us, Ottar?!”
“Not in the least. Just that if you increase the height of your attacks,
the range of patterns you can use will increase dramatically.”
““““You’ve just made an enemy of every prum in the world.””””
“…My apologies.”
All light disappeared from the brothers’ eyes as a never-before-seen
intent to kill came loose, causing Ottar to apologize genuinely.

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The prums formed their sure-kill formation and charged from all four
directions. Their desperation attacks from all directions were fierce
enough to be able to threaten the warrior. Faced with an attack of
rage that would kill him instantly if he made even a single mistake,
Ottar made a split-second decision to stomp his left leg down. The
resulting tremor demolished the hill and blew away the Gulliver
brothers’ small bodies.
“By the power of the demon blade, bring eternal destruction.”
And immediately afterward, a super-short cast cut in from the side.
“Burn Dáin.”
An eruption of flame poured from Hegni’s outthrust right arm. It was
a short-range explosive fire spell, but in exchange, it had been honed
to have a destructive force capable of incinerating countless enemies
within its area of effect. The black magic circle at Hegni’s feat caused
the crimson blaze to flash even brighter—but Ottar just swung his
greatsword upward from below, with a full swing.
“Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!”
“Ghhh!”
The sound of metal scraping against metal resounded, drowning out
the giant waterfall’s thunderous cascade. Ottar used the force of his
swing to extinguish the blaze and then shifted the momentum of the
blade for a second slash to greet the dark elf who had charged in
behind his magic. The greatsword he had swung back down clashed
against the dark sword’s blade, blocking Hegni’s two-stage attack.
“Incarnation of power…to think I would fail to cut down that giant
frame with my secret technique. You truly are the being who stands
at the pinnacle of the demon realm, Ottar!”
“Speak a language I understand, Hegni.”

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While they locked blades, Ottar exchanged words with Hegni, who
was speaking with a different tone and glare than usual. He then
swung his greatsword aside. Losing in power, Hegni leaped backward
and landed on top of a cluster of crystals.
In the blast from the blaze, the front of Ottar’s armor and his skin
had been a bit charred, but he still had not taken any serious
damage.
He had endured, not yielding in the slightest to the string of intense
attacks.
The ultimate defense. Ottar was feared by most for the attacks he
could unleash using his unnatural strength, but Allen and the others
knew that his true claim to fame lay in his defense.
His defense was the summation of all the techniques and tactics he
had built up over the years. An unwavering stout pair of legs, the
defensive movement to deal with any attack with milin-level
precision, and trained eyes capable of seeing through any and all
techniques. All of that combined with his extreme endurance ability
and he was capable of weathering attacks like an immovable
fortress. As evidenced by the fact that he had not been forced from
the center of the island throughout that entire onslaught.
The attackers voiced their frustration as they readied themselves to
try to dismantle his perfect defense again.
In truth, there were six opponents. If the Gulliver brothers were not
the only ones working together, if Allen and Hegni worked with the
prums, then even Ottar would probably have been cornered. He
would have been forced to use the ace up his sleeve. But they made
no effort at all toward teamwork.
“Piss off, prums! Don’t get in my way!”
“That’s our line, kitty-cat.” “Quit chasing your tail!” “You’re the real
brat here!” “Die in a fire!”

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“Your squabbling is unsightly, warriors. You vex me! Begone from my
sight!”
Allen lashed out at Dvalinn and Grer with his spear when they got in
his way, Berling and Alfrik counterattacked, and Hegni tried to cut
them all down, along with Ottar, using the far-reaching slash of his
cursed blade.
Freya Familia’s first-tier adventurers would accept nothing other
than a one-on-one. They poured their all into defeating Ottar with
their individual strengths. Because to do otherwise would not grant
them a victory worthy of a follower of the goddess. None of them
had a resolve so half-baked as to try to defeat the strongest through
cooperation. And because of that, the fight turned into a battle
royale. There were countless flashes of steel everywhere. Sparks and
remnants of magic never stayed put for more than a split second. If
any other adventurers saw what was happening, it would be a scene
that crushed whatever pride they might have in their abilities. This
was an intense battle where everyone was trying to strike one
another down.
And amid that all, Ottar continued to defend and endure everything.
Allen, who attacked with an unparalleled speed; the Gulliver
brothers using their teamwork to the utmost; and Hegni, who
unleashed incomparable slashes and magic—Ottar rejected it all with
his greatsword.
“—I’m gonna run you down.”
And then, Allen’s desire to kill reached its limit and he lowered his
body. What was coming next would be the fastest strike. The
brothers’ and Hegni’s faces tensed as, for the first time, Ottar shifted
to a stance to use his full strength to defend. If he did not defend the
next attack perfectly, he would be killed. Allen was about to unleash
his ultimate attack that would trample everything that stood before
him.

284 | P a g e
As Allen’s magic rose, Ottar readied himself to respond with his
blade—but just before the attack came—
“Strike forever, indestructible lord of lightning.”
Valiant Hildr. The spell’s name resounded, accompanied by a
thunderclap and a bright flash that lit up the battlefield.
““!””
The giant bolt of lightning caused not just Ottar and Allen but even
the Gullivers and Hegni to widen their eyes in surprise and leap
backward. The lightning split the battlefield down the middle and
caused the water to boil as it easily cut through the crystal hill.
The island was half-destroyed, stormy waves rose, and water mixed
with lightning scattered about the room. Ottar and the rest turned to
look as an elf wielding a rhomphaia appeared through the hole they
had opened earlier.
“Stop fighting, you fools.”
Freya Familia’s only other first-tier adventurer, Hedin, released his
magic circle as he stepped into the room.
“What are you trying to pull, coming late to the party?!”
““““What’s with the ‘stop fighting’ bit, you smug elf?!””””
“Fall back, rival of mine. As Allen said, one who would enter late has
no right to call themselves a warrior and thus no standing to join this
melee.”
As they all responded in their own ways, Hedin sighed as if in his
heart of hearts he could not be any more annoyed than he already
was, eventually pulling a letter from his breast pocket.
“A dispatch from Lady Freya.”
“!”

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“It reads, ‘Don’t make problems for Ottar.’ Would you like to confirm
it was written in her hand?”
The letter Hedin held up fluttered slightly as they stared at it with
wide eyes.
Ottar had guessed it while watching their exchange, but while Allen
and the others had left first to challenge him, Hedin had received the
order from Freya to stop the fight.
“He was granted permission to challenge the floor boss by Lady
Freya herself. Not allowing him to do so would be equivalent to
betraying her divine will. What are you idiots getting so worked up
about?”
““““““Ghhhhhh…!””””””
“Learn something from the incident with the expedition. If you want
to please Lady Freya, then at least think it through a bit first, fools.”
Allen and the other attackers twisted up their faces as Hedin made a
point of hammering on them for their intelligence, or rather, their
lack of it. In fact, veins were starting to become visible on their
temples, and they looked about ready to burst. And while they were
at a loss for words, Hedin just snorted.
“…How did you know we were here?”
“With you sending tremors through the entire Water Metropolis,
there’s no way to not notice. The other adventurers all ran away
thinking there might be a new species of monster that had appeared
and started running wild.”
When Hedin pointed out that the aftereffects of their battle had
been felt even three floors away, there was not really much more to
say. Hedin looked exasperated as he walked toward Ottar and tossed
him an elixir.

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“I know you don’t need it, but I’m sure this was more exhausting for
you than fighting Udaeus will be.”
“My apologies, Hedin.”
“…I would have liked to become a giant fool and strike you down,
too, Ottar.”
The elf furrowed his brow dramatically as he said that. As if, at times
like this, in the depths of his heart, he was jealous of the fools he
despised.
And just like that, battle between the first-tier adventurers came to
an abrupt end due to their goddess’s will. Allen and the others
looked on with dissatisfaction as Ottar departed without saying
anything. Emerging from the hole, he returned to the basin and
headed down to the next floor.
In order to reach his target from there, it would take Ottar half a day.
He had lost some time dealing with Allen and them, though, so he
walked a little bit faster.
He crossed straight through the second safety point and passed
through two more regions, leaving the lower floors behind and
heading into the deep levels.
The thirty-seventh floor, the White Palace.
A region composed of just one floor, it was the final border set by
the Guild, a true deadline. However, despite it being the most
dangerous region of the Dungeon, there was still nothing that could
stop his stroll. Lizardman elites, loup-garous, skull sheep, spartoi—
they were all disintegrated by a single slash from his greatsword.
Warrior- and undead-type monsters could not even slow his advance
as he broke through them.
It was instant death on encounter.

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Anyone who could not do at least that much would be unable to
solo-play the depths of the Dungeon. But by that same logic, it
meant that because Ottar could do that much, he could proceed
through the deep floors by himself without having anyone worry
about him and without having to borrow anyone’s strength. Even
overwhelming numbers were not enough to be a challenge for Ottar
in this region of the Dungeon. In fact, dealing with magic stones that
dropped in order to avoid a repeat of the terrible blood-drenched
troll incident—where an enhanced species was born of stones left
lying around—was the more time-consuming effort. He would
carefully aim for the core with his attacks to turn basically the entire
monster along with its core to ash, but the monsters that died in the
shock wave of his slash had to have their magic stones crushed
underfoot.
The marble labyrinth trembled as he dominated the dim darkness
that was supposed to pressure him as he proceeded into the depths
of the thirty-seventh floor.
And finally, he reached it.
“…It’s been long enough to feel like it’s been a while, huh?”
The throne room. The area at the center of the floor where the
staircase to the next floor was, as well as where Ottar’s target would
appear.
He had stopped in front of a single extra-large room. Unlike the rest
of the labyrinth up to that point, the phosphorescence was bright
enough to see clearly there. Overhead, the ceiling was high enough
to not be visible, just like the rest of the floor.
There were no traces of a monster there. It seemed as if it was just a
wide-open space, but then there was a crackle.
“It’s here…”

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As if Ottar’s arrival had been the catalyst, the cracks started running
through the floor. The deep fissures radiating out from the center of
the space were accompanied by a large tremor. It was as if the
Dungeon itself were crying out as it gave birth to its child. The next
second, an enormous pitch-black body broke through the ground.
White marble scattered around as its full form appeared.
The skeleton king roared out.
“—OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The Monster Rex, Udaeus.
The pinnacle of the undead on this floor, it had an overwhelmingly
imposing appearance, like a spartoi skeleton monster that had been
scaled up. Its lower body was still buried in the ground as vermilion
will-o’-the-wisp eyes set in deep black eye sockets focused on the
intruder.
It had been exactly three months since Aiz had managed to defeat
Udaeus by herself. The interval had passed, and an intruder had
appeared to set foot in its room, so it had awakened.
The passage Ottar had entered through was sealed off by pila
shooting up out of the ground like spears to block the passage. Until
Udaeus was defeated, there was no retreating from that room. The
floor master used this room as its execution ground.
However, Ottar never had any intention of retreating.
“I’ll have you show me everything that the Sword Princess saw and
overcame…”
The powerful and imposing warrior did not look the image of a grave
robber, and he did not fall back in the slightest at the skeleton king’s
roar as he swung his own sword.
The early stages of the battle were entirely one-sided.

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Ottar either evaded the pila that had previously been believed to be
Udaeus’s greatest weapon with a speed at odds with his enormous
frame, or else he nullified them by striking the ground with his
greatsword before they could burst out. He closed in to the enemy,
which caused it to swing its giant right arm at a range when he
entered close enough to be hit, but Ottar used his perfect defense to
block the brutal attack, much to the floor boss’s surprise. His log-like
legs dug into the ground a bit as he slid ever so slightly while skillfully
wielding his sword to shatter the crystal sphere joints linking
together the bones. Udaeus screamed and a thunderous sound rang
out from its right wrist upward as the arm fell to the floor.
“Weak.”
The truth was that Freya Familia had already developed the most
efficient way of dealing with Udaeus—though Ottar was basically the
only person who could actually pull it off. But he did not use that
method. If he defeated Udaeus without laying eyes on the giant
black sword Aiz had seen, then he would not get another chance for
three more months. Even Ottar had no desire to wait that long.
Because of that, he was being careful not to accidentally defeat
Udaeus as he cornered it.
The floor boss roared as it summoned spartoi around the room, but
that, too, was nothing worth mentioning to Ottar. He crushed them
in groups with a single slash or else used the pila shooting out of the
floor to lure them to take each other out.
Level 7.
Able to maintain the advantage throughout the fight against the
enemy that Aiz had been forced to break through her limits in order
to defeat, Ottar had the bearing of one who was the apex of
adventurers. His body was much smaller than that of the floor boss,
but it possessed a status that easily surpassed the floor boss’s. He
was like a little giant that did not pale in comparison to a Monster

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Rex. And the way he repelled those giant arms with a single sword
was a testament to that fact while simultaneously producing a mind-
bending scene.
The girl who had solo-challenged Udaeus with her Level-6 potential
despite only being a Level 5 was worthy of admiration. But if asked
whether he could do the same, Ottar would not hesitate to answer
that he could. At the very least he could against the Udaeus he knew.
The one that did not wield a giant black sword.
Ottar, who had reached this pinnacle with just his own physical body,
possessed a strength that was a plain and simple power. Unlike his
prum captain rival, he did not have an overwhelming intelligence or
instinct, nor the extreme magic of that high elf. And he did not
combine the preeminent power and resilience of that old dwarf.
Ottar’s true weapons were his body and his mentality. The
combination of his unceasing effort and indefatigable conviction
brought about a similar or even greater advantage than Aiz’s wind.
And more than anything, Ottar had a tremendous amount of
experience far beyond what Aiz had. He had been through an
unbelievable number of situations and overcome a mind-boggling
number of predicaments. And he had even experienced the ultimate
humiliation, pity. Those were the factors that separated his blade
from hers. Those mud-splattered memories were what made Ottar
as strong as he was, and a genius and talent combined with not even
ten years’ worth of hard work could not overcome it.
“––––––––––Gh!”
“!”
As the pitch-black bones were gradually broken and cut away,
Udaeus roared in a different tone, as if it had lost its temper. Ottar’s
eyes narrowed at the long-awaited precursor as it summoned what
he had been waiting for.

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It kept growing and growing and growing. A particularly large pilum
appeared from the ground in front of Udaeus. It had a hilt. It had a
six-meder-long blade. It was unmistakably an extremely thick
longsword.
“So that’s it.”
The huge black sword that until that day had only been seen by two
other adventurers. It looked smoother than if it had been carved
from obsidian and it gave off an alluring light and destructive air.
Ottar acknowledged that it was in the highest tier of nature weapons
that monsters could wield as Udaeus raised the great black sword
over its head.
The shoulder, elbow, and wrist. Each of its joints flashed like burning
starts and for the first time in that fight, the adventurer’s instincts,
the warlord’s warning bells, cried out—but Ottar did not attempt to
evade the attack.
Instead, he planted both feet and readied his own greatsword.
Despite recognizing that it was the enemy’s ultimate attack, he chose
to face it head-on. The skeleton king mercilessly swung his sword at
the fool who would dare to challenge its attack. There was an
eruption as the blow landed.
“Guhhhh—?!”
It was an explosion of the enormous amounts of magic poured into
its joints combined with the monster’s intense power. The two
created a destructive ray of light, and that slash was the first thing
that caused Ottar’s body to move backward. His planted legs slid,
leaving two giant gashes in the floor of the room. His breastplate and
shoulder armor were entirely blown away by the force of the great
black sword, and his body itself was lacerated by the violent force
and burned by the high temperature of the magic light. The

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greatsword he had readied—the first-tier weapon forged by Goibniu
Familia, cracked under the force of it all.
Looking up, the scene around the room was like a field that had been
burned. All of the pila sticking out of the ground had disappeared
and the ground inside the attack’s area of effect had transformed
into a distorted, burned-out empty lot. The spartoi who had been
caught up in it were, of course, destroyed and the skeleton king
wielding its ultimate weapon ruled over the battlefield with a
demeanor of absolute supremacy.
Ottar’s perfect defense had not been broken, but his body had not
been able to endure the full brunt of it. It could not blunt the force
entirely. Several bones had been damaged, but Ottar was most
disappointed in his own powerlessness.
“…I’m still green.”
Derision. An actual emotion appeared on Ottar’s face for once as he
felt a burning physical pain for the first time in a very long time.
—He saw its ultimate attack.
—He experienced that taste again.
—So there was no way that Ottar—the strongest—could lose now.
That confident analysis borrowed the voices of various people and
deities as it transformed into an illusion ringing in the back of his
mind. That vexing title echoed in his ears.
“…Who’s the strongest? How could someone this weak be the
strongest?”
The warrior’s face was twisted. Quietly, deeply twisted.
The skeleton king looked at the battered man before him, unleashing
a series of pila from the ground. Ottar made no effort to avoid the
swarm charging at him. He did not dodge. His sides, shoulders, and
cheeks bled, cut by the pila. Ottar’s body was possessed by pain and

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self-deprecation and an all-consuming rage that transformed into
passion. His rust-colored eyes stared sharply at the floor boss. They
were looking beyond it, toward memories from the past.
Ottar was glaring at the true strongest, the ones who Ottar was still
chasing after.
How weak. How feeble. You can never reach those heights with
such a frail body.
Cursing his own weakness, he limply held his sword in his left hand as
he clenched his right into a fist with all the strength he could muster.
And then, Ottar opened his mouth. To overcome the being before
him. To overcome his memories of the past.
“Silver moon’s mercy and the golden plains. I offer this body to the
lord of battle.”
A chant rang out. Udaeus reacted in surprise at the spell being spun
from inside the forest of pila that looked like pitch-black gravestones.
“Charge bearing the goddess’s will.”
Udaeus unleashed a single pilum cloaked in a flash of light to
interrupt Ottar’s cast. As it closed in on his forehead, Ottar easily
grabbed it with his right hand and crushed it. And then he finished
his short-cast. His one and only magic.
“Hildis Vini.”

Someone once said the life of a warlord is far harsher and far more
brilliant than anyone else’s.
Ridiculous. Ottar’s life was far from brilliant. Quite the opposite,
even. It was filled with dirt and mud, blood and humiliation. It was a
series of defeats.

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He had a talent. He had conviction, too. He undoubtedly possessed
the potential of a hero. However, there existed monsters far greater
than he in his surroundings.
The two greatest factions that, along with the Guild, were so integral
to the city ever since its founding.
Zeus Familia and Hera Familia.
The thousand years of history—a thousand years of trial by fire—that
those two familias had built up poured down on Ottar.
“Gaaaah—?!”
The very first defeat had been a single strike. A hand had clamped
down on the top of his head and slammed him into the ground. The
man who had shattered the stone pavement while knocking out the
Level-3 Ottar had been one of the lowest members of Zeus Familia.
He apologized for slighting the goddess and then left as if it were
nothing.
The next defeat was a single flash. A knife strike that Ottar had not
even been able to see had sent his body flying into a dilapidated old
home. He only realized he was being petted right before he passed
out. That time it had been a core member of Hera Familia, a girl even
younger than he. The embodiment of talent the likes of which Ottar
had never before seen shot him a single glance of utter
disappointment before standing up and leaving.
They were the impetus for the most intense trial by fire in Freya
Familia’s history that was occurring in Folkvangr. No, compared to
their baptism, the combat that Ottar and his fellow adventurers
underwent on those fields could not even be called that much. It was
a charade.
The twin mountains standing before Freya Familia, blocking the way.
The true embodiment of the strongest.

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The followers who had offered themselves up to Freya became
desperate in order to clear the stain on their mistress’s honor, to
bring glory to her. And that thousand-year wall took their lofty sense
of duty and easily kicked it to the curb. Zeus’s and Hera’s followers
did not even laugh at them. They just seemed utterly disinterested.
Long, long ago, before she had settled in Orario, Freya had
apparently lost to Hera in a conflict. At the time, she had also lost
many of her followers.
It was a shock to Ottar. For some reason it felt like his chest would
split apart at the very thought. The idea that such dishonor would
befall the woman so suited to sitting at the pinnacle of all.
“Apparently she had been asked to scout me by Zeus, in order to get
me to help with their machia. For some reason even though she was
the one who won, she got all huffy and let her hatred get the best of
her…Basically, I got caught up in the farce of a relationship they’ve
had since they were in the heavens.”
Freya told him the story once on a whim while she was enjoying
some wine in her room.
“I keep my promises, so for a time, I gave up on looking for my Odr,
since the deal was that I would help them if I lost. It was my fault for
accepting the challenge. Even though it meant inciting an Orario
adventurer, I trusted my children too much and misread just how
strong that one monster was.”
It suited Freya most to be like a whimsical breeze. For her to be tied
down was a betrayal of all that she represented. Standing there in
confusion, Ottar had asked, “Are you okay with it like this?”
“There’s nothing more pathetic than a vengeful goddess. So—after I
drag her down from her throne, I intend to dump a glass of wine in
her face. And I’ll tell her, ‘How dare you steal my property from me.’”

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She swirled the glass of wine in her hand as she quietly, coolly
smiled. Her eyes narrowed. There was a certain intense light in her
gaze that even Ottar could see. He clenched his fists and swore to
accomplish her will, to clear the blemish that she had received—In
the end, Freya never realized her revenge because she lost interest,
but that was a story for another day.
Freya was fated to be tied to Orario in order to fulfill the promise she
had made. Given that, Ottar and the rest of the familia devoted
themselves to turning the land where heroes were born into a
throne for her.
And then they continued to lose.
No matter how much they struggled, they could not reach them.
There was no end to it. Just how high was the summit that he was
trying to reach? It was obvious, really. No matter how rigorous the
peak someone climbed, no one thought they would reach the
thunder flashing through the sky. And even if their hand did reach it,
they would only end up being scorched by the lightning.
It was a hopelessly high summit that would break the will of any
normal person, but Ottar did not give up on his goal. Sustaining
himself with his indefatigable spirit and a never-ending stream of
scorn for his own weakness, Ottar continued to seek strength.
“—Interesting.”
He was lying collapsed on the ground as rain fell, but even still, Ottar
glared with an unabated blaze in his eyes as he heard the follower of
Zeus, the city’s strongest—no the world’s strongest adventurer, the
Level-8 supreme.
“—In another ten years, maybe I’ll make you my husband.”
Seeing Ottar beaten into the ground in the blazing labyrinth and yet
still not having his spirit broken, the follower of Hera, the world’s
scariest woman, the Level-9 empress, laughed.

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They always let Ottar go. Those who turned against them for the
sake of their masters would always be crushed, but they never
delivered the finishing blow. In fact, just the opposite, they spurred
the defeated on with humiliation, as if telling them to become even
stronger.
Ottar did not bear a grudge against them. And of course he did not
bear any hatred for Freya. No, his murderous intent was directed
solely at himself.
How weak. How feeble. What can you hope to catch with such a
weak body?
Ottar’s ire and hatred of himself elevated an overwhelming
determination and tireless quest for strength that spurred him on to
greater heights.
That was how the heroic warrior began to take shape. The impetus
for all of his level-ups after Level 5 were related to Zeus Familia or
Hera Familia.
The first was fifteen years ago. And the second was seven years
ago—
Ottar knew that it was not a fair fight. Scoffing at their own
unsightliness after being defeated by the one-eyed dragon and
cursing their lack of strength, they had started a fire under Ottar and
the rest of the next generation who were frozen in shock, leaving
everything to them.
“Surpass us, fledgling heroes.”
The city’s strongest, the only Level 7. The pinnacle. The Warlord,
Ottar.
He had still not even caught up to those strongest adventurers
before him. The pure warrior who had sworn his loyalty to the
goddess, just as so many others had done, continued to fight as he

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set off for the pinnacle with a resolve greater than that of anyone
else.
In order to become the strongest. In order to surpass them.

A breeze was blowing. A cool, gentle breeze filled with magic that
grew into a soft zephyr filling that entire cavern of the labyrinth.
The giant room where the skeleton king lay in a pitiful pile of rubble.
“Gu…Gaaagh…?!”
Its right arm was gone, the left side of its head was smashed apart,
its jawbone and ribs were broken, too. Having lost so many of its
pitch-black bones, Udaeus was struggling to cry out from the lethal
blow it had received when its eyes saw it.
The boaz who unleashed that peerless attack was calmly standing
there. He glanced at his greatsword that had shattered entirely and
then cast it aside.
Sticking out of the ground behind the floor master, knocked back in
the final attack, was the great black sword, cracks running through it.
Having lost the king’s blade, Udaeus seemed to have run out of
strength and its flaming eyes were flickering like a candle in the wind
before suddenly extinguishing. The countless bones before Ottar fell
to the ground with a deafening clatter. And standing in the middle of
the pile of bones was a glimmering giant purple magic stone.
“So you beat it, huh…”
Hearing those words, Ottar turned around. In the distance behind
him, Allen and the other first-tier adventurers were standing there.
The pila blocking the passage disappeared as the skeleton king
collapsed, allowing them to enter the room.

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Allen’s words did not have any trace of doubt as to what the
outcome would be, and Alfrik, Dvalinn, Berling, Grer, Hegni, and
Hedin all fixed their gazes on the wounded Ottar.
Their eyes all said the same thing.

—Someday, I’m going to defeat you and surpass you.

And standing right beside them was Ottar. The younger Ottar who
had attempted to defeat Mia, to defeat Zeus and Hera.
Ottar smiled. The corners of his mouth just curled up ever so slightly,
so it could barely be called that, but it was a smile, nonetheless.
And, as if history were repeating itself, he said:
“What’s the point in getting hung up on me, fools?”

The report that Udaeus had been defeated was calmly reported to
the Guild by Freya Familia.
Who could have imagined a consecutive solo conquest? No one at
the Guild and no adventurer would have ever dreamed it.
Some time later—
“I forgot to ask, but did you gain anything out of it?”
In the goddess’s room in the manor.
Freya’s eyes narrowed as she sat in her chair, looking at Ottar, who
had returned after finishing his errand.
“I’ve reaffirmed my own immaturity…and just how far away the
summit I’m aiming for is.”
Standing before her, Ottar responded with the plain and simple
truth. Hearing that, Freya let out a muffled giggle, as if she were
struggling to hold it in.

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“…What?”
“I mean, you went to the Dungeon in order to get stronger, and yet
you came back saying ‘I discovered my weakness.’”
That was the truth, though, so Ottar did not say anything in
response.
As he stood there clumsily, one ear folded down, Freya’s shoulders
trembled from her giggles as she pressed her favorite again.
“Did you gain anything else?”
“…This item.”
The errand he had finished—picking up the custom sword he had
ordered from Goibniu Familia. He drew the sword from its sheath on
his back.
It was a jet-black sword. The blade was enormous. Ottar was over
two meders tall, but it matched his height. A first-tier blade made
from the rare drop item Udaeus Black Sword. Ottar held it out flat
across both hands and knelt on one knee like a knight as he
presented it to her for examination.
“What is its name?”
“If it pleases you, I would like you decide that.”
Ottar wished for Freya to have that honor.
Engraving his oath in the blade of the monster that had allowed him
to reaffirm his weakness and receiving a name for the blade from the
goddess would allow him to become even stronger.
And he would someday surpass that memory of the past.
Freya understood what Ottar was thinking and respected his wish.
After thinking for a little while, she said:

301 | P a g e
“Very well, then—Supreme Black Sword.” She smiled as she
bestowed a name upon the sword. “I chose it in the hopes that you
will someday be able to overcome the past darkness standing across
your path.”
“You have my gratitude.”
He lowered his head deeply before standing up.
As the goddess watched, the warrior who still had not become the
strongest lowered his eyes and swore an oath to that black blade.
—I shall only chase strength, tirelessly and without end.

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303 | P a g e
Allen was always carrying his little sister. After they lost their
parents. And after they lost their home. He stubbornly kept walking,
carrying his crying sister.
They were strays. Powerless, mewling kittens. The scene around
them as they walked was always one filled with ruins.
Later on, he would learn that that place where hollowed out husks
and debris spread as far as the eye could see was called the Scrap
Heap. That it was the remnants of what had once been the largest
country on the continent, which had been destroyed in a single
night. That it was not a place where people could live. That it had
become inhabited by ferocious monsters.
It was just the other day that they had been living in peace, together
with their parents whose faces he could not remember anymore,
and yet before he knew it, their home had transformed into ruins. He
remembered something shining. And their parents disappearing. And
then they were all alone.
“Lost little stray kittens, where is your home?” a headless bronze
statue of an animal person asked.
I don’t know. I don’t even know if a home for us exists. The birds
flying in the sky won’t tell me anything.
He just continued wandering through the never-ending world of
ruins, protecting his little sister, searching for a peace that might not
even exist.
The powerless kitten Allen had no choice but to become strong for
the sake of his idiot sister. If he did not, he would just get tripped up
by her and end up dying himself. Fearsome magic beasts ran

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rampant in their world. There were those with grotesque figures and
fangs and claws as well as hideous humanoid figures. Countless
times, Allen fought them. Countless times, Allen killed them. And
countless times, Allen grabbed his sister’s hand and ran away from
them.
They were constantly pelted by rain. There was never a day where
the ashen gray clouds covering the sky cleared up. There was never a
day that they were not faced with the sight of blood. And there was
never a day that his little sister stopped crying.
His sister, who was starved for familial love, got on Allen’s nerves
countless times. He was always getting annoyed by her feeble fingers
clinging to his clothes. He had lost count of how many times he had
considered just casting her aside. He did not know how many times
he had thought of swinging his fist down to knock her hands away.
And he could not remember the number of times he had started to
leave her behind only to have his heart give in.
But still, despite all that, Allen continued to carry his little sister,
coughing up blood as she slept in exhaustion from all her crying.
The turning point came two years after their home had been turned
to a mountain of rubble, when Allen was six years old.
The wind blew. It was the breeze of a capricious goddess.
“Come with me.”
The goddess looking down at the two kittens simply held out her
hand. Her body was hidden behind a robe, but even then, she was
beautiful.
His little sister was captivated by the goddess, but also scared of her.
The kitten’s instincts were crying out that she might lose something
precious.

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And Allen, captivated by those silver eyes, found himself comparing
his little sister to the goddess standing before him.
A crybaby and irredeemable idiot who was painfully bad at singing,
who constantly annoyed Allen, who was weak.
After looking at his teary-eyed sister—Allen took the goddess’s hand.

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There was nothing they wanted.
The brothers were all individually skilled enough that they could
make a huge variety of things with their capable hands, and they
used the excuse of being prums to give up on most things.
The four Gulliver brothers were born in an industrial city. Their
parents died early, but with what knowledge the four of them could
muster, it was possible, albeit difficult, to make a living.
Their faces were identical, and their personalities…well, they were
pretty much the same, too. The eldest had it slightly worse perhaps,
but it was not like they did not get along with each other.
In order to make a living, the Gulliver brothers naturally became
craftsmen. They were always covered in soot, wearing aprons and
thick gloves. When they walked home after going shopping at the
end of the day, the four of them often looked up at the evening sky
muddied by the black smoke rising from all the workshops’
smokestacks large and small and thought, That looks disgusting.
Having become craftsmen, the four brothers were able to make most
anything a client might order if they worked together—beautiful
bracelets, splendid earrings, and even tasteful gold- and silverwork,
too. They never realized it themselves, but they had started to
become known as the greatest craftsman in the city, the phantom
master craftsman Gulliver, as if they were all just one person.
There was a reason they were called “phantom,” though. Some crazy
human or goddess or—anyway, someone with their own dangerous
ideas tried to kidnap Alfrik because he had a cute face or something,
so after that they did their best not to go walking around outside.
After all, if someone tried to kidnap Alfrik, then that meant the other
brothers who all looked exactly the same might be targets, too. They
started holing up in a workshop carved out of a cliff that was little

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more than just a cave. Even if they were prums, they still did not
want to have anything stolen from them.
Their workshop in the cliff was always dim. Without their naturally
good vision as prums, they would not have been able to live there at
all.
However, the four brothers always knew what the others were
thinking. When they called out to each other, it was mostly just
grunts like “Hey” or “Uh” and the responses that came back were
just as short, “Yeah” or “Sure” and the like. Nothing that could really
be called a conversation. Horrifyingly (amazingly?), there were times
where they would go a whole day without saying anything because
of their mutual understanding.
They just quietly went about their lives, filling the orders that came
from the dwarf master who was their intermediary. But of course,
the better the craftsman, the farther the craftsman’s name would
spread. The name Gulliver started to make waves even in the
surrounding cities. So if you take a long enough view of it, they had
actually been the masters of their fate.
“Were you the ones who made this necklace?”
One day, a goddess visited their workshop carved into the cliff. She
had happened across one of the master craftsman Gulliver’s works
by chance, taken an interest in its gorgeous handiwork, and tracked
down the place where the phantom brothers lived.
The four brothers froze. They had literally never laid eyes on such a
beautiful being before in their lives, but it was as much because she
had appeared at their dirty workshop and home. They awkwardly
prepared tea for the goddess, and the goddess giggled as she
watched them stiffly move around the workshop.
While the four brothers sat in their chairs, engrossed by her beauty,
the goddess explained why she was there.

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She talked about how she had a residence in the Labyrinth City, but
from time to time, she would leave the city and go out in search of
encounters—it was not until later that they learned that what she
was looking for from those encounters was talented people the likes
of which could not be found in Orario, in order to find souls suitable
to be her Einherjar. And this time, she had happened to come across
one of the Gulliver brothers’ works during her journey and had taken
an interest in its creator because of its wonderful construction. To
have such an appraisal from such a beautiful goddess was an honor,
of course, but they were caught between confusion and a desire to
dance for joy. And if one of them lost his head, the other three
would, too. The goddess’s eyes narrowed as she smiled at the sight
of the amusing brothers’ telepathic link working even in times like
that. As if she were embracing the radiance of their souls.
“Do you not have any interest in the world outside?”
The four brothers glanced at one another before responding to the
goddess’s question.
“We do. And we’ve thought before that we would like to go on a trip
outside.”
“But we’re just prums and not yet master craftsmen, either.”
“If we just up and left, we could never make it up to our master, who
has always found jobs for us.”
“And our dwarf master would surely never give us permission to
leave.”
The dwarf master who had walled them off was not a very good
person. Recognizing their talent, he kept them hidden away and
treated them unfairly because they were prums. Unfortunately,
perhaps because of their own low evaluation of themselves as
prums, the Gulliver brothers did not realize just how small their
world was and how unfairly they were being treated.

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After they finished, a smile slowly spread across the goddess’s face.
“I would like a necklace made by you. Could you please do that for
me?”
They leaped to their feet, readily accepting her request. When asked
how long they would need, they responded, filled with
determination. Five days, they said. No we’ll get it done in four!
After she left the workshop, the brothers held hands and danced a
little rondo.
Someone wanted us specifically!
She thought so highly of our skill!
Not just anyone! A goddess as beautiful as that!
Who knew such a wonderful thing could happen!
The prums were not greedy. In fact, they were utterly unselfish. They
were so pure that the goddess’s praise alone satisfied them so much
they might have died. That was why they did not realize that they
were always being exploited by such a greedy person.
Left to themselves, they might have never stopped dancing, but once
the eldest brother spoke up, they immediately started work on the
necklace. They used the precious gold that they had been holding on
to for a special item for the casting, and they concentrated and
poured their all into a delicate design. Sure they were creating their
ultimate masterpiece, they decided to name it Bringar.
Four days later.
They were in high spirits, but the one to visit their workshop was not
the goddess but their dwarven master.
“You guys are free to go now.”
Huh? Doubt was visible on their faces as a lecherous grin spread
across the dwarf’s face.

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“That goddess offered me a better deal than keeping you. Four
nights’ worth, one for each of ya. Ha-ha-ha! I could die a happy dwarf
now.”
The goddess had approached the dwarf for negotiations. She had
wanted them to be released. And what the rapacious dwarf had
wanted in return was not money or prestige but the goddess herself.
At that time, the Gulliver brothers, all four of them, felt a knot
forming in their stomachs. Their minds went blank as a single desire
consumed them. Without exchanging any words or signaling
anything to each other, they dragged the dwarf into their lair with
perfect coordination and butchered him.
Four murderous impulses combined into one in order to erase the
wretched scum that had defiled that beautiful goddess.
They raised a fearsome roar from their tiny bodies as they stabbed
the dwarf, who should have been stronger than them, over and over
and continued to pummel him with hammers and other smithing
tools, paying no heed to the dwarf’s pained cries as they allowed
their rage to take control of them.
The prums certainly were unselfish. However, they were by no
means harmless. Their small bodies bore a potential befitting brave
warriors that only the goddess had noticed.
“Quit it, Alfrik!”
“How much more broken can he get?!”
“Even we’re getting grossed out!”
“Shut up, idiots! I’ll never forgive this scummy piece of shit! I’m
gonna murder him! This isn’t over until there’s nothing left of him!
Not even his soul! He still hasn’t suffered nearly enough yet for what
he did!”
“““S-sorry!”””

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And in the midst of that fray, the rage of the eldest brother, Alfrik,
was beyond control. They had always been together, but his younger
brothers had never known just how intense his wrath could be until
that day. He just kept tenaciously hacking away at the body of their
master, who had long since succumbed to his horrific wounds. From
that day on, the younger brothers swore to never truly enrage their
older brother, who was normally left holding the short straw.
“You killed him?”
After it was all over and their fury had passed, the goddess appeared
at their workshop, and seeing the walls of the cavern stained crimson
red, she looked sad.
“Spending a night with a boring man is a cheap price to pay to get my
hands on you.”
And then, as the brothers hung their heads, the goddess smiled.
“Because what I really wanted…was you.”
The brothers wept. They bawled shamefully, like children. It was
something they had never felt since they had lost their parents: the
love of another. The goddess’s love was equal for the four of them
and was such that she had not hesitated at offering herself in order
to have them.
The Gulliver brothers swore allegiance to her. In order to repay the
goddess’s divine will that had spent four nights with that rotten filth
for their sakes, they became her followers.
There was nothing that they desired.
But that day, a lust for her favor was born.
The prums who had been so unselfish became covetous, wishing for
one single thing:
That one love, and nothing else.

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Hegni was an incompetent king.
More precisely, he was a dark elf whose only talent was fighting.
In the age of gods, dark elves were rare. In the distant ancient times,
when monsters were pouring out of the giant hole and spreading
across the land, the dark elves had fought to protect their race’s
sacred peaks, the Alv Mountains. They were overrun by the
countless grotesque beasts, causing their population to shrink
dramatically. Meanwhile, the white elves, the lineage considered
normal elves in current times, had been led down the Alv Mountains
by their high elf at the time who had chosen not to sacrifice them to
fight the monsters.
The dark elves cursed the white elves as cowards and disgraces and
hoped to one day revive their dark tribe. They dreamed of the day
the dark high elf, whose lineage was said to have continued, would
rise up and lead them again. And for the sake of that dream, the dark
elves—or rather a specific hardheaded group of dark elves who had
holed up in a forest—were desperate to take out the white elves in
the forest whose tribe was flourishing. Even though they were all still
elves, despite the differences in magic and magical ability and skin
color.
Hegni was not a high elf, but he was nonetheless chosen as the
warrior king of the dark elves’ capital. He was not good at dealing
with other people. More to the point, he was scared of his fellow
elves, who tried to force concepts like pride and self-respect on him
in the name of some duty. He was a more sensitive and easily hurt elf
by nature. All things being equal, he would have been tragically
bullied by his fellow elves.
Fortunately, though—or perhaps unfortunately for him—he had a
talent for battle. To an unimaginable degree, the arrows and magic

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of elves famed as the marksmen of the forest were useless against
him. The white elves who faced him cowered while the dark elves
who had him on their side were filled with delight.
And because of that, he was exploited.
His clan spent all their time warring with the nation of white elves
that lived in the same forest as them. And whenever hostilities broke
anew, Hegni was always forced to stand at the head of a host,
leading the warriors into battle. If he did not manage to strike down
enough enemies, they would hurl abuse at him. And he knew that in
the village, there was no end to the sniping at him behind his back.
Before he realized it, and rather fittingly considering his personality,
Hegni started to feel that the gaze of others was the most terrifying
thing in the world.
In the remote, far-off frontiers of the continent, there was a giant
lake, and in the middle of it was a forested island of fairies:
Heodenings. Unbeknownst to and closed off from the rest of the
world, it contained two states, one of dark elves and one of white
elves. Isolated from its surroundings, it was a place of continuous
battle. The end result of fanatical self-obsession.
Hegni, who did not know where he was in what should have been a
wide world, started to think of the mysterious giant forest where the
sacred tree and every other tree covered the sky as a graveyard.
And at the same time, he started to despise himself for being so
small and so foolish, for being unable to change anything.
And in the end, Hegni started to love the darkness, where he could
not be seen by anyone other than himself. The darkness was his one
true friend. Kneeling down at the roots of a big tree and letting his
worn-down body be embraced by the darkness became a daily
routine for him.

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And one day, when he was exhausted after a particularly fierce
battle, after abandoning himself to the darkness, in a dream or a
hallucination, he met a certain witch.
“You’ve worn down your body and even your soul so much, and yet
you don’t try to change anything?”
Hegni hugged his knees tightly, looking away as he answered the
witch’s question.
“I can’t change anything, because my determination is weak and I’m
trash. I’m scared of all the eyes looking at me in disappointment and
blame. I’m scared of being laughed at. I’m embarrassed to keep
living. That’s why, at the very least…I want to fight and die with my
trusted sword.”
There was a being who had caught Hegni’s interest. The other king,
who led the white elves he fought.
Unlike him, that king was handsome and gallant. He had golden hair
and a sharp, piercing gaze. The difference between him and Hegni,
who was an incompetent king, was like the difference between
heaven and earth. The title of king had caused Hegni all sorts of pain,
but that white elf who constantly strove to be a proper king was
dazzling to him. It made him envious and jealous. Hegni, who was
consumed by a sense of inferiority, wanted to win against that man.
Even if it meant trading blows, he wanted to run him through with
his sword.
After all the fighting that was the only thing left that he wanted.
“I see. Then I shall set you free. Once I do, maybe you’ll be able to
achieve your dream.”
He felt like the witch smiled after she said that. But when Hegni
looked up, she was no longer anywhere to be found. He decided that
she must have been an illusion he had seen in his exhaustion.

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The battle between the fairies that was the pinnacle of unsightliness
intensified dramatically after that day. The arrogant pride of the
fairies that was on display for all to see demonstrated their true
repulsiveness.
—It was probably inevitable that they would be destroyed by the
goddess who so valued beauty.
Hedin was a young, wise king.
But at the same time, he was a white elf who was an embodiment of
the fairies’ tendency to look down on everything other than
themselves. He appeared intellectual, but his true nature was far
more severe.
When enraged, his features warped unattractively, and he would
slaughter those who defied him like a merciless tyrant.
Hedin was hailed as the brilliant king of the white elves.
Of course he was not actually a high elf. Hedin understood better
than anyone that his title was just the royal fantasies of provincial
elves living deep in the woods. But even if it just extended their
foolish make-believe longer, once he had been anointed king, he
fully understood that if he did not fulfill his duties, his incompetent
people would die.
Because Hedin considered himself competent, he did not try to
escape his duties as king. Running away would be the same as
lowering himself to the level of those trifling fools he most despised.
His pride would not allow that.
At present, the source of his concerns, or rather his annoyances, was
the dark elves continuing to attack his city. They were true
barbarians who lived in the same forest but could think of nothing
more than eradicating their own fellow elves. Judging the conflict
with them to be the most inefficient use of resources, he restrained
the other white elves and sent out a peace envoy. However, the dark

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elves were single-minded in their response: “We shall reclaim our
Hildr.”
In the long history of these two elf tribes fighting each other, there
had been a single period where they negotiated a temporary
nonaggression pact. As proof of their commitment, the dark elves
had handed over the holy woman Hildr, a miraculous healer. And
Hedin was descended from her.
Even though terms like white and dark are thrown around, to begin
with elves were all the same race. Their children’s skin color was
mixed. And since the dark elf lineage only entered the pool once, it
naturally weakened, meaning Hedin had naturally inherited the traits
of white elves most strongly. Hedin was Hildr’s descendant and thus
would forever have her blood. What the dark elves were demanding
was nothing more and nothing less than to wring every last drop of
blood out of him.
—Fools.
Hedin spat back in response. And the negotiations fell apart.
He was fed up with the daily battles. Those puppets of pride and
duty seemed to take more joy in fighting one another than they did
with dwarves who were supposed to be their natural enemy. They
truly never bored of fighting. Because he was the king, Hedin took
command in terrific fashion, and wielding the powerful magic that
was his birthright, he annihilated the dark elves. He became a symbol
of terror to the dark elves while being a powerful leader for the
white elves.
While that never-ending battle was raging, ironically, Hedin’s talent
as well as that of the other king on the dark elves’ side continued to
grow. They became preeminent powers, despite being trapped in
their narrow world. If someone from outside their world saw them,
they would not believe that neither of them had received Falna.

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Their strengths became such that before they knew it, they could no
longer be contained by the world that they were trapped in.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Muttering the same thing over and over in his mind, Hedin had
pondered ripping off his crown and casting aside his country more
than a few times. And he had lost count of the number of times his
face had been warped by the reality that if he did that, his country
would be destroyed, which would leave a blemish on his record—the
equivalent of a defect in the world—that would last forever. Stuck in
that hideous situation, Hedin had become a slave to his pride.
And one day, in the evening in the king’s room, the great window
open so he could see the sacred tree from it, Hedin, who had been
drinking alone, met a certain witch, perhaps in a manifestation of an
illusion brought about by his drunkenness.
“Despite understanding everything, you continue to be a slave to
your country?”
Hedin downed his glass of wine and laughed mockingly at the witch’s
question.
“I called myself king. Even if it is a narrow, foolish little world, I will
carry out my duty. No matter how fed up with it I am. If I cast it all
aside, then I’d become something worse than an incompetent. If I
have to choose between being a slave and being an incompetent,
then I, Hedin, would choose the former. And besides, I’ve long since
decided I would die on the battlefield.”
There was a being who had caught Hedin’s interest.
The other king among the dark elves who had transformed into a
glistening blade. A victim of the vagaries of the world who, despite
being king, did not, could not live up to his title. And despite all that,
he was stronger than anyone. A single incomparable genius great
enough to overcome a hundred incompetents by himself. Hedin

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utterly detested that bundle of contradictions, a disgraceful failure
who was simultaneously peerlessly skilled. And at the same time,
Hedin was filled with an intense competitiveness, not wanting to lose
to that other king, who was the only other being in this world that
Hedin had acknowledged.
Hedin, who was an embodiment of pride, wanted to win against the
one man he judged capable of killing him. Even if it meant trading
blows, he wanted to pierce that dark elf with his lightning.
If there were to be any way of saving this world, it would be by
reaching a conclusion with him first. That was the only way.
“In that case, I’ll release you from the yoke of being king. What
happens after that is for you to decide.”
The witch smiled and held out a glass of wine to him. Hedin’s smile
twisted as he took the glass and drank it dry.
When Hedin sobered up, she had disappeared. He wet his lips with
water, thinking he had seen a foolish dream. From that day onward,
despite being scared of him, the fairies’ arrogance brought about by
their king’s power became unstoppable.
Incapable of loving one another they instead only scorned one
another, revealing their incompetence for all to see.
—And because of that, it was only natural that the goddess would
turn her back on a world without love.
The conflict between white elves and dark elves gradually devolved
into a total war involving all their people. Other than children who
did not know any better and had not yet been stained by anything,
every last one of them picked up arms and joined the final battle as if
it were a holy crusade. The drumbeat pushing for a final decisive
clash that was building was abnormal, but neither Hegni nor Hedin
made any effort to stop it. Both the kings and their countries felt that

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if they were going to be destroyed in this one battle then at least
they could devote themselves to their desired battlefield.
In the middle of the mystical woods, the battle began on the border
between the two countries. As was to be expected, the white elves
with their skilled commander held the advantage throughout, but
that only lasted until Hegni faced off against Hedin. After that, Hedin
did not have the leeway to focus on anything other than his own
fight and could no longer give orders, and as a result the armies’
positions flipped. The dark elves had a greater military potential.
That was the price the white elves paid for having continued to rely
on Hedin’s skilled command.
As the two kings’ battle intensified, around them, one elf after
another fell, and before they realized it, Hegni and Hedin were the
only ones left standing on the battlefield.
Crimson bloomed, bloodshot eyes opened wide, and masks of rage
covered their faces as their mortal combat unfolded. Despite the fact
that the people and countries tying the two of them down were
already gone, they pushed themselves to their limits because if
nothing else, they would not allow themselves to lose to the elf
standing before them.
And three days later, they still had not determined a victor.
Suddenly, the witch appeared.
“You can’t reach a conclusion. Even though I listened to your wishes
and decided to welcome whoever survived.”
They were in the center of the island surrounded by a river of blood
and the corpses of countless warriors. She sat down on one of the
undirtied crystals right next to Hegni and Hedin, who were breathing
raggedly, beaten and battered.
The two swung around in shock as she rested an elbow on either leg
and rested her cheeks on her hands. The goddess’s eyes narrowed.

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“Sorry I destroyed your countries. They were just too unsightly.”
At those words, time froze for the two of them. Hegni recognized it
instinctively while at the same time, Hedin understood it logically.
The drumbeat to war that had been building among the elves had
been her doing. She had delivered revelations to the elves like an
oracle, provoking their pride, and inciting them toward their own
destruction. In that insular little world, if a deity really had appeared,
then the elves would surely have believed her words and obeyed.
“A king who tyrannizes his people and a king abused by his country—
which is more unsightly? At least in this case, I’d have to say the
latter is the one that makes me want to sigh more.
“It’s amazing you both managed to reach such extremes,” she added.
Hegni and Hedin were in awe as they faced the goddess, who was
like the accumulation of all the beauty in the world. However, she
merely continued to smile. Indeed, there was even a glimpse of
mercy on display as she continued, “I just had to free you from that
never-ending curse.”
She was truly both a witch and a goddess. While there were those
who were saved by her love, there were also those whose
destruction was brought about by that same love.
Two sides to the same coin. Free-spirited and cruel.
However, in the eyes of Hegni and Hedin, who had been stuck in that
cage of eternal struggle, she seemed utterly sublime.
“If I’m being honest? I just couldn’t bring myself to forgive the two
countries that were holding back two so splendid as you, so I used
some dirty methods to snatch you away.”
The two kings gasped as the goddess spoke without any hint of
concern. Everything that she said was true. The goddess who had
spoken only the truth asked them one final question.

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“I’ve taken possession of these children’s souls, and I’ve broken the
world that was tying you down. My intention was to take you back
with me, but…what do you want?”
Both of their answers were obvious.
Hegni, who despised himself more than anything, was granted light
by someone who accepted him as he was, more than anyone else
ever had. In front of her, and only in front of her, he had no need to
hide himself in the darkness.
And Hedin was set free from his duty by meeting someone more
suited to rule than himself. He was finally allowed to be free.
The two of them were saved by that haughty and cruel goddess. And
from that day on, Hegni’s and Hedin’s souls were stolen by the
goddess.

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Snow was falling.
Beautiful, cruel white fragments fell from the heavens, gradually
burying the freezing body. It was all alone. It was cold.
There was no one who would hold it close nor anyone who would
relieve its starvation. The indisputable reality was there in the
freezing limbs. The unalterable truth was there in that squalid body.
Why am I so dirty? So poor? So empty? So cold? Those questions rose
to the surface of an ashen heart for the thousandth time before
disappearing.
What would I have to do for this body to stop being this body? While
an ephemeral consciousness gradually faded, what little remained
was genuinely pondering that question. And as that pondering
continued, the consciousness decided to try to stop living.
And at that time—
“—Are you okay?”
A soothing soprano voice resounded in those frozen ears. The voice
wrenched open eyelids that were threatening to fall, and the
moment those eyes saw the owner of the voice, they widened. An
outrageously beautiful, rich, satisfied, warm being was standing
there. It was the first evidence that such a being could actually exist
in this world.
“I was thinking of trying to help you…Is there anything you want?”
the being standing there asked, as if she was just asking to amuse
herself. Or perhaps, as if she could see the glimmer of a wish
harbored in that body.
There is. Of course there is.

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Finding out that such a beautiful, rich, satisfied, warm being existed,
there was a single thing gripped that cold, empty, poor, dirty heart.
It was not merely envy or longing or jealousy—it was an all-
consuming desire.
I want to become you. I want to quit being me and become the
clean, warm you.
That rich being honestly had not expected that answer. Shocked, she
laughed out loud.
“You want to become me? How ravenous can you be? There’s never
been a child who’s said that before!”
There were those who had been saved by her love. And those who
had sworn loyalty to her. But there had never once been a person
who had wanted to become her. She laughed. The silver-haired
goddess kept laughing. As if to demonstrate how unbelievably
strange the request was. As if her interest had been piqued.
“All right, then, I’ll give you—. In exchange, will you give me–––––?”
There was a slight nod in response.
And then, in that slum devoid of all hope, the goddess reached out
her hand and asked:
“What is your name?”
The girl’s lips twitched.
“—Syr.”

There was an explosion accompanied by a terrible odor. There was

an odd thwump as a puff of black smoke started to rise.
Faced with the explosive disaster rising from the pot, the girl tilted
her head cutely and calmly extinguished the heat source before

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shaking her head. Her platinum hair that was tied back, swaying as
she did.
“It feels like something is off…”
Inside a narrow kitchen. The girl was cooking in a room that
resembled a certain tavern somewhere, as if it was constructed to be
a replica inside the familia’s home. Wherever her gaze might wander
around the room, there were countless ingredients in pieces and in
the pot as well as several other pans and utensils were charred.
“Like it’s wrong…or like there’s something…like I’m missing
something…?”
Beside her, holding back her nausea with a hand to her mouth, was a
female member of the familia, a girl of a similar age. Even hidden
behind her long hair, her face was clearly beautiful, but currently it
was twisted in grim agony. She was the poison tester—or rather,
taste tester—for the experimental cooking that was being conducted
here.
“Should I say that it was far, far better back when you prepared
things that you didn’t have to cook…or rather, I would greatly
appreciate it if you could return to that…?”
“Awwww, you’re so cruel, Helen! Even if it turned out like this, I am
still trying my best, you know!”
“I fully recognize and understand that you are trying your best,
but…!”
Helen shrank back a bit as the little girl threw up her hands in anger.
Despite being clearly far stronger than the girl, she was careful not to
be disrespectful. It could even be said that that was why she was
suffering.
“The die is already cast! There’s no choice left but to push on, break
through my limits, and create the ultimate tasty dish!”

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Taking the cookbook from the table, the girl reaffirmed her resolve
and furiously started reading it as Helen paled in despair.
What did a person have to do in order to create such novel, strange,
deviant dishes? There was no end to Helen’s questions. She could do
nothing but shudder and declare it the work of a god.
“I’m going to use the results of this training to make Bell happy!”
Helen hung her head in exhaustion.
The girl made another few dishes that Helen suffered through taste-
testing, and then she put the best one into a basket.
Even understanding it was not entirely fair, Helen could not help
resenting the boy whose stomach would just barely survive thanks to
the sacrifices of her and other taste testers.
She did fully recognize that he would have to endure a fair amount of
suffering, too, at least.
“All right, I’m headed out!”
“Ah! W-wait a minute! What about protection…!”
“I’ll be fiiiine! After I head to the orphanage, I’m just going to the
tavern!”
As the girl finished up her preparations quickly, Helen gave up and
just let it go.
“Umm, please take care of yourself…L-Lady Syr…”
She paused for a bit, struggling with what to say before getting it out.
And the girl, Syr, smiled.
“I will! See you later!”

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Before writing.
Chief Editor: About how many pages do you think the manuscript will
be this time?
Author: The desert story should be around 170 pages, so combined
with the new shorts, it should be around 250 pages total?
Chief Editor: All right, let’s go with that!
At the deadline.
Chief Editor: So, are you done?
Author: Yes, I’ve finished the 300 pages for the desert story!
Chief Editor: I have no words.
The page count keeps going up with each new book. This isn’t funny
anymore—at this rate, can I really call myself a light novel author?
This is really, really, unbelievably bad. Are you going to write a 500-
page first volume for a new series out of nowhere next, idiot? I had a
looming sense of dread about the future that was waiting for me as I
somehow managed to write the second volume of the Chronicle
series. My apologies for the two-year-plus wait since the last one.
Even though there were so many more characters that needed to be
depicted than there were in the first volume, and even though it was
the Goddess of Beauty’s familia, meaning everything they necessarily
ended up with being super flashy—regardless of all those excuses, I
really do think this was over-the-top. Never in my wildest dreams did
I imagine that my pulse would be racing hardest while writing the
afterword. I seriously think I might have to adopt a strict page limit
so that the next volume is a light novel instead of a heavy one…!
True to the afterword in the last volume, this is a story about a
certain goddess of beauty and her followers. When I submitted the

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manuscript I was worried about whether it would be acceptable, or
whether this was going to be too much, since the stories involving
this goddess inevitably ended up getting a little bit licentious, but
since no one commented on it, I decided it was fine and had it
published. Romance in the desert is an essential part of lots of
Harlequin novels and whatnot, so forgive me!
Personally, I was really happy with how this book’s guest heroine,
the prince (not a typo), developed during the story. I think the short
story “Ali and the 8 Followers” that was also published in Gangan GA
is also that prince’s story. When I wrote the climax, I felt a tightness
in my chest and a marvelous sense of wonder.
And since it was about the strongest adventurers on par with the
Sword Princess and her familia, as I already touched on before, I
went way over the anticipated number of pages and received quite
the scolding. The barn door’s already wide open now, but their
characters are just a little too unique, which both makes me very
happy and means the struggle is never-ending.
The boar warrior and cat chariot have made a few appearances here
and there in the main series, but I was oddly excited at how the
white elf—who had been ominously in the background up until
now—finally managed to step into the limelight. With regards to the
four prums, I had a certain image of the brothers and just let it all
sort of flow from there. Also, I finally got to write in the dark elf!
Basically what I’m trying to say is I, the author, ended up liking the
Goddess of Beauty’s familia even more after finishing this volume.
On the one hand, setting this story in the desert was entirely about
catering to my personal taste, but on the other hand, I had been
trying to sprinkle various world view points in the books that have
already been published, and I wanted a chance to expound on that a
bit. The Chronicle series stories may end up being primarily stories

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set outside of the city. Perhaps I could use this series to gradually
expand on the world beyond Orario.
The flashback stories also presented here are intended to reveal
more about the setting in general and to hopefully entertain those
who have invested so much time and effort into reading this series. I
don’t know whether I’ll be successful, but sometime around when
the main characters’ story is finished, I would like to be able to tell
the tale of Zeus and Hera.
Even the afterword is getting long now, so with my apologies, I’ll
move on to conveying my thanks.
To my editor, Matsumoto, chief editor Kitamura, and everyone else
who was involved, I’m sorry for crashing into the deadline. And I’m
extremely sorry to the illustrator, nilitsu, for causing problems
because of that! I have nothing but gratitude for your providing such
wonderful illustrations even as the manuscript delays drug on. To all
the readers, I’m sorry for keeping you waiting so long for this second
volume. To everyone who helped support me and to everyone who
waited for me, I’m extremely grateful.
I was quite worried this time, since it was my first attempt at writing
a story that heavily featured the desert, so I shamelessly had my
fellow GA Bunko author Awamura Akamitsu read over the
manuscript for me. Thank you for agreeing to help me and taking the
time when you were so busy, and thank you for all of the helpful
pointers you gave me. It really helped.
I think the next volume might be a story of a fox girl from the Far
East.
I plan on involving the main series’ cast for the first time.
Additionally, a story about someone unexpected might be included,
too. I hope you’ll look forward to it.
Thank you for reading this far.

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And with that, I will take my leave.
Fujino Omori

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Just Light Novels

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