Translat⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠or: KJ

In front of Mason Industry's headquarters.

Into the heart of the ruins, ghastly with explosion debris and piles of corpses, an armored vehicle slid to a stop.

Had he been watching the situation from somewhere far off? Had he been so certain of Falkenrath's victory?

The car door opened, and Hector Mason stepped out.

"...What is the meaning of this?"

Hector's face was already twisted with rage. His eyes were fixed not on the half-destroyed building, but on the cor⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠pses of the executed Outcasts.

"Maximilian. Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

Hector's veins bulged. I simply wrapped my Longsword in bandages. Retrieved it and slung it across my back.

Beheading was too good for him. He deserved a far more agonizing future.

"This was His Majesty's will. Those bastards needed to be kept alive and used for experimentation."

Hector spat such words, but honestly, I could barely make them out.

Just before the battle with the Outcasts, I'd already injected myself with about fifty percent of a 'Super Stimpack' as a precaution against unforeseen variables.

"You have defied the solemn command of His Majesty the Emperor."

The Super Stimpack's strength was the boost it gave to physical capability, but its weakness lay in that very boost. The body couldn't handle the amplified abilities, the strain kept building, and overheated brain cells flickered ceaselessly, vividly resurrecting my old memories.

That was why, even as I executed the Outcasts, I couldn't stop reminiscing about them.

"Maximilian of Ebenholtz. You've committed High Treason."

Before I knew it, I was right in Hector's face. I looked down at his small frame.

"..."

I held him under my gaze for a moment, then let out a low sneer.

"You still don't understand, do you."

The capillaries in Hector's eyes burst red.

This man had already lost his reason.

"It's you who doesn't understand."

How pathetic, still barking without grasping the situation.

But if he didn't know, I could just as easily crush him in his ignorance.

I had already deployed helicopters to evacuate the researchers from Mason Industry's rooftop.

Not just physical evidence, but human witnesses too, perfectly collected.

"His Majesty—"

"—His Majesty."

Hector tried once more to invoke the Emperor, but I cut him off.

"...Haa."

It was simply tiresome.

I had no desire to waste words on a worm like this. Long explanations were a bore. Pointless effort, and not even entertaining.

Instead, I extended my hand and slapped him across the face.

"─Krghk!"

Hector Mason's body was sent flying in an unsightly fashion. A Knight's strength was more than enough to crush an ordinary man's face with a mere backhand. As he tumbled across the ground, the flesh of his cheek tore open, and shattered teeth rolled across the asphalt.

"Y-you wretch...!"

Hector staggered backward, his face a bloody mess.

"Y-, ugh, dog, kurghk!"

He couldn't even produce his voice properly. The whistling air through his teeth was almost comical.

His secretary and bodyguards hurried over, but even they didn't dare turn a weapon on me.

"Y-you wretch! You! You! Traitor! His Majesty, me, His Majesty's gonna-!"

I murmured, almost mocking, at Hector as he clung to the ground spitting nonsense.

"That position suits you."

"W-what—!"

Ignoring his thrashing, I walked away.

It wasn't over yet.

One more remained.

Hector too had already counted the corpses sprawled across the ground.

Four out of five.

'Filty' was missing.

Both I and Hector Mason already knew where she would go.

* * *

Underground City, Tavern Quanda.

Filty returned to the hideout and looked around at the empty interior.

"..."

No one was there.

Master Quanda, who had always greeted them with his easy laughter; the customers who used to clink glasses raucously; the comrades who would gather round and rave about how funny her comics were.

All of them were gone now.

With trembling hands, Filty picked up the pages she had drawn.

[ Elze: Meden... You can stop now... ]

[ Meden: ... ]

Reading those lines, those final moments, dozens of times over, stroking those who would never return.

Filty crammed down the emotions rising within her.

She crushed a grief too heavy to even breathe through.

Bang!

The tavern door suddenly burst open as if shattered. Filty flinched and turned toward it.

"Filty."

People with masks covering their faces. Mason Industry's private soldiers, most likely. The bastards came pouring in. Filty looked at them with a half-resigned expression.

"You the one? Filty..."

The soldier paused for a moment and picked up some papers. He clearly didn't know much about them.

Filty answered for him.

"...I don't have a surname."

Filty was just Filty.

Meden was just Med⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠en, Elze was just Elze, Caden was just Caden, Pain was just Pain.

They were names they had given each other.

Because they had no families.

"I see."

The soldiers drew their Stun Guns.

The bastards had come knowing she had no lethal ability.

But she had a weapon of her own too.

A Self-Destruction Grenade.

The more companions on the road, the better.

One step. Two steps.

She gripped the grenade for them as they slowly closed in, just before they could take a third step.

───.

An unidentified silver arc came rushing in first.

Shliccck───

A silent flash blazed. The soldiers' heads flew into the air all at once.

"Uh..."

Filty stared blankly forward.

Fountains of blood spurted as their torsos collapsed. Beyond them, shimmering, was the shadow of a man.

Filty's hand went slack.

──Fwsssh.

The comic pages she had been clutching cascaded to the floor.

"N-no...!"

She crouched down in a panic and tried to gather them up, but the blood-soaked papers kept slipping through her fingers.

──Splat.

A blood-stained military boot indifferently stomped on the pages.

"Stand up."

A tone like frost. Filty trembled as she lifted her head.

"..."

It was 'him'.

The blond Knight who had detected her observation and slaughtered every one of her comrades, Maximilian Ebenholtz.

"Filty of the Outcasts."

The killer of her comrades stood before her.

Within arm's reach, facing her.

But there was nothing she could do.

She couldn't leave so much as a scratch on him.

Even if she detonated this grenade, it would just be her own Pointless Death.

"Filty. Is it you."

At his dry question, Filty parted her chapped lips and answered with effort.

"...it's me."

At that, Maximilian bent one knee. He picked up a single blood-soaked page of the comic.

[ Maximilian: Mason Industry will fall. ]

As he read it through, one corner of his mouth twisted.

[ Maximilian: Because I have obtained evidence of the human experimentation that's illegal under Imperial law. Bastards like you will never appear again. ]

"You have a peculiar ability."

Thud.

He laid his Longsword on the t⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠able. He set the stained comic page down beside it and asked.

"Tell me. Have you any thought of resisting me?"

The man who had cut down all her comrades was asking her that.

"..."

Deep resentment still wavered in Filty's eyes.

The final images of her comrades that she had drawn rose to her mind.

[ Maximilian: Is there anything you wish to say? ]

[ Meden: Ah. Yeah. There is. Bit weird to say this on first meeting, but... Fuck─off! ]

[ Elze: Yeah, fuck off, you fucking moron, you Imperial slave! ]

The very next panel.

The Knight gripping his sword as he looked at the two of them.

[ Maximilian: ...Yeah. ]

But when he had beheaded them, the smile Filty had drawn on him...

[ Maximilian: You did well. ]

Was nothing close to joy.

If anything, it had been sorrow.

Endlessly cold, and yet steeped in a loneliness without end.

"...This thing you said."

Whatever the truth of it, Maximilian had unquestionably killed her comrades. That alone made him Filty's enemy. It was just that, even now, a 'wish' still remained.

"Did you mean it?"

Filty held the page out.

[ Maximilian: Mason Industry will fall. I will be the one to bring it down. ]

Maximilian answered without an instant's hesitation.

"On my honor."

Filty drew in a breath.

In that case, then. For just a little longer.

There was a reason to want to live a little longer.

"And if I don't resist you?"

Maximilian's gaze tilted quietly.

"Under Imperial law, you weren't caught in the act of directly participating in terrorism, so your treatment falls under my jurisdiction as the Knight who took you into custody."

"..."

Filty clenched both fists.

She agonized over it for a long while, then let out a deep sigh and nodded.

It meant she would comply.

Maximilian asked.

"Are you alright with not joining them?"

"...because I want to see those bastards fall."

Filty sorted through her priorities.

"Meden, and Elze, and Pain, and Caden..."

The Knight had done the Knight's work, and they had done theirs.

They, as Outcasts, had always set their sights on the 'cause' that came before their own deaths.

"They would have wanted to watch those bastards' ruin."

Murderous intent clung to her voice.

"It has to be... it has to be only that way..."

She couldn't bring herself to continue. A sea welled up in her heart. Tears rose, choking, and dropped tap- tap- into the puddle of blood.

Maximilian watched her─ in silence.

.......

Quanda Snorf. The man who had sold Elze's plan in its entirety to Mason Industry slipped out of the Underground City and climbed into their vehicle.

On the promised day, at the promised hour, on the road to the promised top-tier hospital in the Empire's center.

In his arms, his little daughter wheezed, her breathing ragged and labored.

"Just a little, just hold on a little longer..."

Mana Addiction Disease.

A condition in which the Mana Receptors within the body were abnormally small from birth, so that the more atmospheric mana one inhaled, the more the blood vessels would burn, ultimately leading to death.

When Quanda had first heard the name of the disease, he had realized that his daughter's very survival was impossible in the Underground City, where polluted mana lay thick.

But on the surface, it was different.

If she could undergo surgery at a proper medical facility and continue receiving expensive prescriptions afterward, she could live without trouble.

In other words, with enough money and the right to use a top-tier hospital, he could save his child.

"Just hold on a little longer. Then you'll get to live like a normal child."

In truth, the life-sustaining treatment had already been provided by Mason Industry.

His daughter was breathing now thanks to them, so all that remained was the surgery for a complete cure...

"...?"

Quanda's gaze drifted out the window.

A sudden sense of wrongness struck him.

The direction was off.

They should have turned right at that last intersection.

That was the way to the Empire's center, and the hospital was there.

But the driver was simply heading straight west, down a sparsely populated outer road─

"Excuse me. I think you've taken the wrong road..."

There was no answer to Quanda's question. The driver and the man in the passenger seat. The two of them only glanced at the rearview mirror.

"Excuse me!"

Quanda cried out urgently.

"This isn't the way!"

At that, the men's brows furrowed.

"You, who the hell are you people!"

"Christ, you're loud."

A voice laced with menace. The man in the passenger seat reached into his coat, and just as Quanda's breathing turned ragged.

Screeeeech──!

Someone suddenly appeared in the middle of the road.

The driver wrenched the wheel sharply. The car lurched violently and came to a stop.

"Ah, that fucking Bastard..."

"...should I handle him?"

The driver and the man in the passenger seat exchanged looks. The passenger drew his Pistol and stepped out of the car.

"Where, where the hell are we?!"

Quanda seized the chance to address the man in the driver's seat.

The man turned to Quanda as if it was a nuisance,

"Let's keep this quiet, yeah? You know how this goes."

The moment he muttered that with a savage look on his face.

Whssssh──!

A Longsword came hurtling from beyond. The blade pierced the windshield and shattered the man's skull, then suddenly flew back through the air into someone's hand.

"..."

Quanda lost his words. The man who had stepped out of the car never came back, and the driver was already dead on the spot.

Silence settled. Only the wilting sound of the child's breathing grew thicker.

──Step. Step.

Footsteps approaching from beyond.

Before Quanda could even gather his wits, click.

The back seat door opened.

"Quanda Snorf. Is that correct?"

"..."

Quanda, his face white as a sheet, looked at the man outside the door. Golden eyes brimming with moonlight stared straight at him.

Quanda knew who he was.

A Knight of the Empire─ Maximilian Ebenholtz.

"Step out, please."

He commanded. The weight of those words pressed down on Quanda's eardrums, but Quanda shook his head. He held the child in his arms tighter.

"My daughter, my daughter is dy-"

"I know."

Softly, a smile rose at the corner of Maximilian's mouth.

He extended a hand with a courtesy entirely unlike anything Quanda had imagined.

"I have prepared a fitting gift for one who made s⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠uch a difficult decision for the sake of the Empire."

* * *

The master of Mason Industry, Hector Mason, sent a direct report to the Imperial Court.

He laid out, in exhaustive detail, the atrocity perpetrated by Maximilian Ebenholtz: how, in defiance of the Emperor's solemn command, he had slaughtered every one of the critical experimental subjects, an act tantamount to treason.

He even added a complaint that Maximilian's blow to his cheek had left him as good as half-paralyzed.

The petition he had spat out as if coughing blood produced its result at once.

"...so that's how it went?"

'Estio', Princess Justine's secretary and closest aide. He had come to the Mason estate in the western Empire.

Hector Mason ground his teeth as he looked at him.

"That is correct. That arrogant whelp slaughtered every one of the precious experimental subjects His Majesty desired."

Estio's eyes flicked over Hector with an odd expression.

"And so?"

"There is still hope. One of the subjects yet lives-"

"What if Maximilian moves to kill that last one as well?"

At Estio's question, Hector's pupils glinted like a viper's.

"That, beyond any doubt, would be unequivocal treason against the Imperial House."

"...hmm."

Hector's face suggested that, somehow, he preferred that outcome. Estio quietly fell into thought.

"In any case. I shall convey this matter to Her Highness the Princess."

Estio rose slowly. Hector seethed, his eyes still steeped in hatred.

"Without fail! You must convey it without fail!"

──This episode still had an Epilogue remaining.

~~~

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