“...It just keeps raining.”
While resting in her room, Philly glanced out the window.
Ssshhh—
A few days ago, a drop or two had started tapping the palace window; soon it turned to rain that washed the color out of the world. What she’d taken for a quick shower had lasted for days.
Rain in the Empire wasn’t rare. Without rain, nothing would grow from the earth.
But every time a great crisis had struck the Empire, the sky had always been clear.
During the monster war. During the war with Manggot.
So Philly disliked this kind of sky. As if their tragedies had nothing to do with the world at large.
Yet lately it had kept on raining.
While Frondier left the Empire.
“......”
Philly sat in her chair and simply watched the rain.
Right now, in the Empire, it was treated as almost certain fact that Frondier was a demon.
On top of that, he’d “bewitched Inies” and fled with her—Frondier’s crimes were severe.
The army had already been assembled and departed for Manggot as soon as preparations were complete.
“Well, by the time they arrived, Frondier was long gone.”
Philly felt herself grow a little sentimental.
Frondier, who had become an enemy of the Empire.
Frondier, a hero more vivid than anyone.
She’d hoped this rain would proclaim that his departure from the Empire was undeniably a tragedy.
“Sometimes you get a day like this.”
The day she’d shown tears in front of Frondier—
She had already known then. That her ominous foresight had vanished.
Frondier leaving the Empire was tragic, but they’d avoided the worst.
In the midst of it, Frondier had made the best choice. By leaving the Empire himself, he stopped a future in which Imperial blood would be spilled.
Philly burned with resentment.
Because her foresight had insisted that the future which cast away the person she trusted most was the right one.
So she cried.
“Frondier says he feels reassured because I’m here, but...”
Philly herself felt no reassurance at all.
Could she do as much as Frondier expected?
What would become of the Empire from here?
Frondier overestimates me.
I’m just—
Knock, knock.
In the midst of her gloom, someone knocked.
“Mother.”
It was Aten’s voice. But a little husky.
“Come in.”
At Philly’s answer, the door opened quietly—
Aten approached, her face puffy, eyes bloodshot, cheeks a little flushed.
On her white skin, the traces stood out all the more.
“What happened, Aten?”
“You’re not asking me anything, Mother.”
“Hm?”
“Why my face looks like this. Why my eyes are like that. Things like that.”
Aten’s voice was still husky.
Philly smiled.
“Because I feel the same.”
“...Right.”
Philly looked at Aten for a beat, then rose.
“Daughter, shall we take a walk?”
“A walk? It’s raining.”
“We can walk inside. The palace is big.”
At that, Aten nodded.
They left the bedchamber and strolled slowly down the imperial corridors.
Aten asked,
“How’s Salle?”
“......”
Philly silently shook her head.
She couldn’t bring herself to say he was fine.
“Salle took a tremendous shock. To be possessed by a god—and then to learn what happened afterward. He still eats, and he welcomes me, but, likely...”
Likely he could no longer become emperor. Philly held the words back, but Aten had already heard them.
Salle had been possessed by a god with no warning whatsoever and caused this incident. If such a thing happened when he wasn’t yet emperor, what would happen if he were?
“Aten, I’ll tell you in advance. We won’t say it to the citizens, but this is decided.”
“I know.”
Their steps were unhurried.
Amid their leisurely pace, Philly said,
“From here on, gods are enemies of the Empire.”
“Mm.”
“Losing Frondier gave us the most important single line.”
Aten nodded.
There was no rebuttal, not even room for a question.
They kept walking and headed down a staircase.
“Mother, this place is...”
“I thought we should have a look.”
They had arrived at the imperial armory.
Philly didn’t have a special reason for coming here.
Just as she’d said—there was something she wanted to see.
Inside, as always, all manner of splendid weapons were on display.
This sight hadn’t changed much over the ages. Even in the war with Manggot, the palace had suffered almost no damage.
Only one thing—
“These still show the repair marks.”
“They rushed to reinstall it.”
Philly chuckled softly and looked to the very back of the armory.
The Empire’s treasure; their strongest, most exalted weapon.
Mjölnir.
“They say it suddenly flew off in the middle of the war.”
“Mm. It smashed every ward and device we’d set for security—and even broke through the palace wall.”
Philly pointed at the far wall with a finger. Sure enough, there were clear traces that had been freshly patched.
“And in the WizerView, Frondier’s right hand held a hammer identical to Mjölnir...”
“Judging from the circumstances, without a doubt—Mjölnir flew to Frondier.”
“Did Mjölnir truly acknowledge Frondier as its master?”
Likely so.
Mjölnir followed the will of those it acknowledged. Thor wielded it freely, and Mjölnir fought of its own accord—drinking in Thor’s lightning and growing even stronger, they said.
'...What does it mean for a weapon to recognize its master?'
Mjölnir’s original master was Thor. As Odin’s son, Philly could not think he stood on the side of humans.
Yet Mjölnir had clearly aided Frondier.
So—did weapons not necessarily follow the will of their original masters?
“But it ended up back in the armory again?”
“Frondier returned it. Said, ‘Thanks for the loan.’”
“...That’s so like him.”
Aten looked a little exasperated. Philly exhaled a small breath and said,
“Well, if it were up to me, I’d have given him this too, but there was no way to deliver it. Still, if Frondier truly needed it, then by his will—”
Just as Philly said that,
Paaat!
Suddenly, Mjölnir flared with light.
“...Oh?”
Startled, Philly let out a small sound.
Whiiish!
Kwoooooom—!!
“Kyaaaah!”
Mjölnir shuddered where it was set, rose, and shot off at high speed toward somewhere.
Naturally, in the process it obliterated the security wards and wrecked the wall. Again.
Aten screamed, then checked the situation.
“M-Mother? Don’t tell me...”
“...Likely.”
With her expression a touch stiff, Philly wore an awkward smile.
“Looks like you need it now, Frondier.”
***
After we’d fought off the first assault, the sea monsters kept coming at regular intervals.
As if they hated us heading for Agoris, their intervals grew shorter and their numbers increased.
“You want me to deal with that?!”
“Yes! If we don’t bring it down fast, everyone’s in danger!”
I dragged Pielot over again after confirming another whale had appeared.
To be honest, Pielot still hadn’t adapted to life at sea. He was fighting, but at half strength. The one good thing was that while he was engaged in battle, his seasickness receded.
“You dodged the opening strike! Now it’s your turn!”
“Urgh, damn it!”
We’d evaded the whale’s first attack again. This time, I moved the ship using Heukcheon, not Elodie.
It was heavy—enough mana drained to really hurt. I got a clear sense of just how high Elodie’s magic output was.
We had the whale’s position. All that remained was for Pielot to cut it.
“Here it comes!”
“I know!”
Again the whale targeted us from below. The instant its movement sharpened, I shifted the ship to avoid it.
“Uwah!”
The problem: every time the whale breached, Pielot lost his balance.
To evade, I moved the ship, and each time the whale broke the surface, that created a matching tilt in the deck.
It /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ wasn’t easy to keep your footing amid that violence.
But—
“Get it together! You can’t be tumbling around with it!”
If it was Pielot, he had to do it.
Of course he did.
“Grr—understood!”
He staggered to his feet.
“The enemy won’t let you pick a comfy moment to focus! No matter how great your skills and power are, if all your timing and sequence get read, it’s useless! Stance, focus, motion—in one breath. All at once!”
“Ghh...”
Pielot gripped the sword still in its scabbard and stared at the sea. The whale was out there.
It would aim for the ship again, and I wouldn’t teach him how to evade. The movement and the tilt—Pielot had to handle both.
And then—
Kwooooo—!
“Nh!”
The ship shifted again, pitching under the whale.
The violent motion popped Pielot’s feet off the deck, his stance collapsing.
He clenched his teeth. I shouted to him,
“One moment! Just one moment, Pielot!”
He teetered on the bucking deck. On a floor that could throw him in any direction, he held on—just barely not falling.
The whale hovered for a heartbeat, readying to drop.
In that sliver where the ship’s violence gentled, just a hair—
Step.
Pielot’s soles set fully on the deck, and he lowered his stance.
Shriiip—!
And then the whale was cut. That enormous body split cleanly, top to bottom.
When I looked at Pielot, his blade was already back in the scabbard.
“Well done.”
“Hii...”
He sagged to the deck as the tension left him.
Watching him, my honest impression was—
'Tell him to do it, and he really does it.'
Sure, I’d believed he’d manage it eventually, but not this fast.
I went to Arald.
“How many attacks was that?”
“This makes six.”
I pulled up the 3D map I’d been storing in the workshop.
As the ship advanced, I’d been updating the Empire’s original map, but it looked like Agoris was farther than I’d thought.
“At this rate, we should at least be seeing a hint of—”
I started to say—and then,
“......”
My words died.
I lifted my head to Arald, but he hadn’t noticed yet.
“...Arald.”
“Yes?”
“Get everyone below deck. Now.”
He started to ask why, but one look at my face changed his mind. He moved at once.
I checked the deck in a heartbeat. Pielot was collapsed, catching his breath; Selena was checking her gear; Lirih cocked her head, having just heard Arald’s order.
—No one felt it.
The only ones who did were me—
“Frondier...!”
—and Elodie, whose face had gone white.
Which meant the nature of this presence was unmistakable.
With what I had on hand, resisting it would be extremely difficult.
Therefore—
“Please.”
I stretched out my hand.
I needed a wholly real weapon that had acknowledged me as its master.
The moment I called it, it started flying to me from the Empire.
But we were far out at sea, long departed from the Empire. It would take time for Mjölnir to reach me.
As I waited desperately for my weapon—
[Six times.]
The voice arrived first.
[I gave you six warnings.]
It hovered above me—covering the whole ship, and above that—
He looked down on Elodie and me from the heights.
This feeling. Just like when we’d faced Rudra in Elodie’s dream.
But this was unmistakably reality.
Out here on the sea, where none of the conditions for a god’s descent should have been met—
I was tasting the same presence, starkly.
[You seem not to understand that it signifies refusal.]
High, far above, he spoke down to me.
And, fittingly twisted, in that hand he held a spear I could not possibly fail to recognize.
[Must I refuse you with my own hand?]
