Translator: KJ

......A few things to surmise about the Ezenheim.

1. The Ezenheim use a language unique to themselves.

This is the most important fact. They wield, as language, not voice but Mana...... no, a wave too alien to even be called Mana, and they use it like a cipher.

A resonance no human vocal cords could ever imitate, like something scraping at the soul. Yet to human perception, it feels like Mana. Which means it cannot be hidden completely.

2. Because they appeared abruptly at some point in human civilization, their history is 'severed' to a certain degree.

Thus it is impossible to pinpoint exactly when, or where, they originated. But through various historical records and circumstances, one can infer a rough era.

At least three hundred years ago. That is roughly when the Ezenheim first showed themselves in the continent's history.

3. They are scattered all across the continent, but at certain points they form enclave communities and worship a religion called 'Ezent'.

They chose religion as a screen, the better to root themselves deep within human society.

Or perhaps, it was because even they needed strongholds.

4. They are scheming deep beneath the earth.

This is a fact established by Edmon's testimony from before my Regression. Through the Eastern Alliance's Labor Reeducation Camps, the Western Republic, and every corner of the Empire, they are spread wide and thin.

By contrast, there is almost no trace of them in the island nation of Canilan. Where there is no reason to burrow into the earth, they do not exist either.

5. Even the Ezenheim cannot recognize one another by outward appearance alone.

Number five is the hypothesis I mean to verify myself, here and now.

Until they use their own 'language' or pass through certain rites, they cannot perfectly identify their own kind by appearance alone.

This is why numbers three and five are linked.

If the entire Ezenheim race were connected, there would be no need to build enclave communities and hang the label of a religion on themselves, exposing a weakness.

Because they too cannot tell one another apart by looks alone, they call themselves Ezenheim and raise up the religion of Ezent to rally their kind.

──If so.

To this 'language' I have just thrown out, how will the Ezenheim before me respond?

Thump—

My heart went on beating, and the boy did not so much as stir.

Thump—

Whether he answered or not, I was going to kill him, but I kept my killing intent thoroughly sheathed.

"......."

His face was expressionless. As if the very function called emotion had suddenly shut down.

Thump—

Then, at some point, in a silence where only the Virus went on throbbing.

─Go back.

The boy finally spoke.

His language rang through my skull.

─We cannot converse yet.

What did that mean? What in the world was this enemy of mankind waiting for?

Even so, I spoke again.

"There is a fact I must convey."

It was, in its way, psychological warfare. Since he claimed we could not converse, I was addressing him in human speech.

"......."

He stared at me in silence for a while, then,

Thud.

he turned and began walking off somewhere.

Meaning, no doubt, that I should follow.

This raised the credibility of hypothesis five, but I could not yet trust it outright.

This too could be a ploy to deceive me.

Thud.

I followed, keeping a fixed distance.

The patterns peculiar to the Ezenheim, grotesquely carved into the walls, and the air drifting between them seemed to scrape down my skin. Cold sweat beaded along my back.

Fear of the unknown.

It seemed I was only hu⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠man after all, but I paid it no mind. If things went sour, I had only to cut down every last Ezenheim in this place.

Thud.

The place where the footsteps came to an abrupt stop was an altar, hewn from raw rock.

Atop the carving at its center, a single scripture of 'Ezent', the faith they were said to worship, lay forlornly alone.

─S⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠peak.

The boy transmitted the wavelength. I scanned the interior, but I sensed no eavesdropping, no surveillance, not even a trace of Mana.

Probably because leaving such records would itself work against them. They already possessed the most perfect weapon of all, 'outward appearance'.

"King Batimus is trying to sell us out to the Empire."

In that instant, the boy's movements stopped dead.

And in that moment, I sensed it too.

──I've been found out.

What had given me away, I could not yet tell. Which part of the words I had spoken was wrong?

Worry about it later.

Glaring at him, I shifted my approach and asked.

"Just what did we do wrong?"

"......."

The boy stayed silent.

A fathomless rage surged up from the pit of my stomach, but I could not let myself be steeped in emotion.

"I'm asking you a question."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean."

The boy replied glibly, in the Mekerel Language.

I asked again.

"What did mankind do wrong, that you're trying to wipe it out?"

A sneer flickered at the corner of the boy's mouth.

He looked at me with a strange expression.

Perhaps it was a face with anger mixed in.

"......Your existence itself is wrong."

He said it. He opened his mouth and spat the sound aloud.

Thanks to that, a sixth hypothesis was born.

6. Even for the Ezenheim, the younger the outer form, the more immature the being.

"I see."

I did not hesitate. I raised my Pistol at once and fired between his brows.

──.

Silent Mana pierced through the boy. The small body crumpled soundlessly to the floor. Stillness sank over the temple. The blood seeping out of the Ezenheim lapped against my shoes, and the wind turned hollow, idle circles.

"......."

Abruptly, I turned my gaze and stared at some point in the empty air.

Filty's eyes, watching me from somewhere.

.......

I disposed of the corpse and walked back up to the surface.

I was making my way out of this damnable village, where a hushed night had settled at some point, when.

"And where might you be going in such haste?"

Someone called out to me in the Imperial Language.

I stopped in the street where the lamplight flickered. I turned toward the voice.

"Are you an Imperial?"

The speaker was a man in gray priestly vestments. An ornament symbolizing Ezent hung at his neck, and his complexion was pale as an ascetic's.

"......."

I watched him without a word.

The beat of my heart rang heavy once more.

"Ezenheim, are you?"

This one too, of course, was Ezenheim.

"Yes. I am Ezenheim. And you, I see, are an Imperial."

He smiled gently, never breaking from my gaze.

As for me, it was as if my blood were boiling over.

That benevolent, magnanimous act of a holy man, as though he would embrace every sin in the world. That fucking shell of his made me want to retch. I wanted to kill him right then and there.

"You're different from the other Ezenheim here."

Forcing myself to hold back, I changed the subject. His skin was, in truth, on the very fair side.

"Haha. Well, I was born in the Empire myself. Might there be some particular reason an Imperial has come to visit Rundar?"

The priest asked in a deliberately gentle voice.

"......There is."

The question itself touched the embers inside me.

"I was curious about your kind."

I muttered, fingers brushing the Pistol at my hip.

"Beings les⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠s than human."

"......."

Even in the face of my contempt and condemnation, he showed no anger. Instead, he brought his hands together as if in prayer.

"......I understand. The people of the Empire despise the Ezenheim. But that is nothing more than a misunderstanding."

A misunderstanding.

"We are simply waiting. Even knots of hatred honed so sharp will all come undone one day before the great providence. For in the end, we shall be welcomed into a single rest, a peace without discrimination or suffering."

A voice so repulsive it was as if he were spitting out a baptism.

"When that day comes, you too will come to understand our will."

At those loathsome words, I raised my Pistol. Taking aim at him, I rested my finger on the trigger.

"......The only peace without discrimination or suffering is death."

The Ezenheim's reaction was exactly as I had expected.

He quietly let his head fall.

"O Imperial. Do as your will leads you."

As your will leads you.

I chewed on his words, and then, gladly.

I chose to conceal my will.

I chose to suppress the urge to kill.

For someday, a better chance would come.

"......."

I lowered the Pistol and returned it to its holster. The Ezenheim priest's eyes widened, as if he had not expected that.

I turned away without a word.

And in the same moment, I was certain.

"──O nameless Imperial. There is something I wish to say to you as you depart."

The less-than-human being was calling out to me from behind.

Even they have their openings.

They are, without question, something that can be deceived.

I will not be deceived by them, but I can deceive them into believing they can deceive me.

"I pray that this decision of yours today becomes a truly great turning point for you......."

For my greatest weapon is the asymmetry of information called 'Regression'.

* * *

──Meanwhile, far from Mekerel, in the Empire's Underground City.

[ Maximilian : Just what did we do wrong? ]

Scritch. Scritch.

The comic artist Filty's pen nib raced across the paper.

[Boy : ....... ]

Scritch. Scritch.

Her pupils were stained white, and her hand rendered the scenes her Clairvoyance observed.

[ Maximilian : I'm asking you a question. ]

[ Boy : I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean. ]

An unfathomable exchange unfolding in some underground temple in Mekerel.

[ Maximilian : What did mankind do wrong, that you're trying to wipe it out? ]

At Maximilian's question, the boy's expression shifted for a moment, and then.

[ Boy : ......Your existence itself is wrong. ]

In that moment, Maximilian clenched his teeth so hard they creaked!

A fury that, most likely, even he himse⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠lf was unaware of. The Clairvoyance grasped his emotion, and Filty rendered it vividly on the white page.

[ ──A Mana bullet pierces the boy between the brows. ]

The instant Maximilian killed the Ezenheim boy.

Life seeped back into Filty's retinas.

"......."

She gazed down quietly at the finished page panels.

Maximilian. In the Ezent temple of Rundar, in the east, he had killed a boy. He had committed yet another grotesque crime.

"Exterminating mankind......?"

And yet, for some reason, it did not feel ordinary.

Filty simply could not make sense of the scene she had observed, of the conversation Maximilian had shared with the boy.

"Ma'am~"

A voice from behind her, right on cue.

Filty flinched and turned. It was her manager, beaming.

"Have you eaten?"

"Yeah. I ate."

He came over with a smile and set a stack of morning newspapers down on the table.

"Take a look at this. Not only the Imperial Language original, even the export editions translated into Prozen and Highland sold out completely this morning!"

The front page of the literary newspaper was plastered with huge headlines.

[ Continent-Sweeping Hit 『Outcast』 Sells Out Its First Prozen Print Run in Just One Day! ]

[ 『Outcast』 Syndrome Brings Highland's Bookstores to a Standstill! ]

'Elze, Meden, Pain, Caden...... Outcast. The trails my comrades left behind are spreading across the entire continent, shaking people's hearts.'

"That's a relief."

Filty felt an odd relief, and a deep sorrow.

"By the way, what are these pages? The storyboard for the next chapter?"

The manager asked, stealing glances at the papers on the desk, the ones holding the freshly drawn scenes of Maximilian.

Filty hurriedly stretched out both hands and covered the manuscript.

"......I'd rather you didn't cross the line."

"Ah, yes, ma'am. My apologies."

The manager backed away, sheepish. Filty let out a faint sigh and said,

"It's a spin-off. The story of what comes after Outcast."

That was the only excuse she offered.

If the day ever came when Maximilian was defeated and brought to ruin, she intended to reveal these manuscripts to the world. To expose, in every last detail, the truth of all the evils he had committed and the countless massacres, before the entire world.

"Ooh~ Now I really can't wait."

The manager's eyes sparkled. Watching him, Filty asked, almost on impulse,

"Yam. Think you could get me some books?"

This manager's name was Yam. Full name, Yam Mikon.

Perhaps because he was a Yaken, even his name was quite peculiar.

"Books?"

"Yeah."

"What kind of books do you need? Art references? Or novels to brin⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠g you some inspiration?"

To that question, Filty answered in a low voice.

"......The Ezenheim."

The Ezenheim.

'I'm going to study the Ezenheim.'

'Because to tear down the logic of Maximilian's vicious racism and hatred, I have to understand them first myself.'

"Books about the Ezenheim...... get me as many as you possibly can. History books, anything, it doesn't matter."

"The Ezenheim? Sure, understood. I'll see what I can find."

"Yeah. Go on, right away."

"Yep!"

Yam left, and Filty picked the comic panels back up.

[ Maximilian : What did mankind do wrong, that you're trying to wipe it out? ]

The words Maximilian had asked before killing the boy, words that somehow felt almost desperate, and.

[ Boy : ......Existence itself is the wrong. ]

And in contrast, the boy's answer was cold as ice.

"......."

Filty's Clairvoyance was incomplete. For she could not 'remember' what it observed. All she could do was barely render it as drawings on the page.

And yet, precisely because of that, in this comic that reproduced what the Clairvoyance saw with the utmost accuracy, free of any bias whatsoever.

"Why......."

Maximilian came across as the hero, and the boy was portrayed as the villain.

"......What is this."

This bizarre, inverted composition──

Filty stared at it for a long, long while.

~~~

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