The battlefield should have been celebrating.
The White Whale was dead.
Four hundred years of history had just ended.
Thousands of soldiers were cheering.
Wilhelm stood atop the corpse of the beast.
Crusch was already organizing the recovery operation.
Everything was supposed to be over.
Instead, Julius looked terrified.
That was significantly more concerning than the Whale.
His quasi-spirits swarmed around him in a frenzy.
Not aggressive.
Not defensive.
Confused.
They sensed some weird presence.
The dust continued settling across the battlefield.
And then someone stepped out of it.
A young man.
Lean.
Sun-browned.
Ragged.
Long dark brown hair hung past his waist, the ends stained a deep blood-red. Most of it was gathered into a loose braid down his back, while thick strands framed his face.
His clothing looked worn and feral—a tattered dark coat over a ripped purple-and-black striped garment tied across his chest.
Dark wraps covered his hands and forearms, and curved daggers rested at his wrists.
The sort of appearance that should have looked pathetic.
Instead every instinct in my body screamed danger.
His piercing green eyes immediately locked onto the battlefield.
Then onto Wilhelm.
Then Crusch.
Then Julius.
Then Ricardo.
Like a starving man staring at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
His face split into a massive grin.
A grin filled with jagged, shark-like teeth.
And he started clapping.
"AMAZING!"
The sudden shout echoed across the plains.
The young man laughed.
"AMAZING AMAZING AMAZING!"
His voice practically vibrated with excitement.
"We were wondering what happened to our precious pet!"
The grin widened impossibly further.
"And now we see it!"
Drool dripped from the corner of his mouth.
"We see it!"
He spun in a circle.
Actually spun.
Like a child discovering a pile of birthday presents.
"What a feast!"
The cheering slowly died.
The battlefield fell silent.
The commanders stared.
The soldiers stared.
The atmosphere shifted.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Then the young man pointed at the Whale.
"You killed our pet!"
His grin somehow widened again.
"And that means you're strong!"
His eyes gleamed with manic ecstasy.
"So strong!"
His gaze swept across the battlefield.
Hungry.
Obsessive.
Predatory.
A cold chill crawled down my spine.
Then he said it.
"We would like to know your names."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
And suddenly every commander remembered.
A bizarre man who refers to himself as "we."
The warning.
The prophecy.
The briefing.
The impossible prediction.
The color drained from several faces.
Because I had been right.
Again.
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
Ley Batenkaitos stepped forward.
Still smiling.
Still drooling.
"Tell us your names!"
His voice sounded almost cheerful.
Like he was asking for introductions at a party.
"We want to taste them!"
The smile never left his face.
"We want to taste your lives!"
Wilhelm's hand tightened around his sword.
Crusch stepped forward.
Naturally.
Proud knights introduced themselves before battle.
That was what honorable people did.
Unfortunately honorable people generally did not fight Sin Archbishops.
I grabbed Felix's shoulder.
Hard.
Pain immediately exploded through my arm.
Worth it.
"NOBODY SPEAK!"
My voice tore through the battlefield.
Every head turned.
I nearly coughed blood.
Worth it.
"DO NOT GIVE HIM YOUR NAMES!"
The battlefield froze.
Ley blinked.
Confused.
I pointed directly at him.
"He eats names and memories!"
Several commanders visibly stiffened.
"Just like the Whale!"
That got their attention.
Immediately.
The White Whale comparison hit home.
Nobody understood Authorities.
Everybody understood the Whale.
Crusch's eyes widened.
Wilhelm immediately closed his mouth.
Julius visibly reevaluated the situation.
Ley pouted.
Actually pouted.
"Aww."
The expression looked bizarrely childish.
"We liked that part."
My skin crawled.
Then Ley smiled again.
A much worse smile.
"We can always get them another way."
The drool returned.
His eyes gleamed.
Hungry.
Very hungry.
"We only need to touch you."
The entire battlefield took a collective step backward.
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
Another voice interrupted.
"Honestly."
A teenager stepped from the dust.
Messy snow-white hair.
Sharp golden-orange eyes.
An elegant white high-collared coat trimmed with black and gold.
Dark trousers.
Dark boots.
A single blue gem earring dangling from his right ear.
His face was handsome in an utterly generic way, but the expression on it was one of permanent annoyance.
He looked completely normal.
Which somehow made him worse.
"Do you have any idea how inconsiderate all of this is?"
The teenager sighed dramatically.
"My rights are being violated on a truly unbelievable scale."
Nobody spoke.
The battlefield simply stared.
The teenager continued.
"I was forced to listen to all that shouting."
He pointed accusingly at the army.
"Do you understand how unreasonable that is?"
Silence.
"First the Whale dies."
Another sigh.
"Then people start celebrating."
Another sigh.
"And now nobody is even considering how all this noise affects me personally."
The teenager shook his head.
Disappointed.
"As usual."
My blood froze.
Regulus Corneas.
The second warning.
The white-haired teenager.
Lion Heart.
The immortal psychopath.
Several Iron Fang mercenaries instinctively shifted forward.
Bad idea.
Very bad idea.
"Stand down!"
Crusch's command exploded across the battlefield.
The mercenaries froze.
"Nobody engages!"
Julius immediately reinforced the order.
"No melee combat!"
The men obeyed.
Good.
Because charging Regulus was approximately as productive as attempting to stab a thunderstorm.
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
The situation deteriorated rapidly.
Ley wanted to eat everyone.
Regulus wanted everyone to stop existing near him.
The army was exhausted.
The commanders were exhausted.
And I had just realized something horrifying.
We were wasting time.
The entire reason we had rushed the White Whale operation was because the Witch Cult was attacking Emilia's domain.
Roswaal's territory.
Irlam Village.
The mansion.
The villagers.
The children.
They were all on a timer.
And every second spent here was another second closer to disaster.
The Whale's head was important.
Crusch's victory was important.
But Emilia came first.
I pointed toward Julius.
"Phase Seven!"
Julius immediately understood.
His eyes widened.
Right.
The emergency contingency.
The one I'd drilled into everyone's heads before the operation.
If the Archbishops appeared after the Whale's death, the coalition army would disengage.
Crusch's forces would secure the Whale and return to the capital.
Meanwhile the strike team would proceed directly to Roswaal's domain.
No delays.
No heroics.
No fighting Sin Archbishops.
Mission priority remained unchanged.
Save Emilia.
"SECURE THE CARGO!" I shouted.
Everyone looked at me.
Then I pointed toward Emilia's camp.
"JULIUS! REM! EMILIA! IRON FANG!"
My throat burned.
"WE MOVE NOW!"
The commanders understood instantly.
Crusch's eyes narrowed.
Then she nodded.
The Whale head.
The proof.
The trophy.
Her army would handle it.
Our job was elsewhere.
Crusch immediately took command.
"Recovery teams move!"
The battlefield exploded into action.
Knights rushed forward.
Chains were secured.
Ground dragons were mobilized.
Meanwhile Ricardo barked orders at his mercenaries.
The Iron Fang assembled immediately.
Emilia hurried toward our position.
Rem was already at my side.
Julius moved without hesitation.
Good.
Very good.
Because every minute mattered.
Ley watched everything happen.
Then visibly struggled to focus.
His eyes darted between Wilhelm.
Crusch.
Julius.
Ricardo.
Felix.
Rem.
Then back again.
Like a starving customer unable to decide what to order.
"We want that one."
"No, that one."
"No, definitely that one."
"No, wait—"
Ley began arguing with himself.
Meanwhile Regulus looked annoyed.
"Would you stop talking?"
Ley ignored him.
Regulus looked even more annoyed.
His dull eyes sharpened instantly.
"My rights are being violated."
Ley ignored him again.
A vein appeared on Regulus's forehead.
Excellent.
The Archbishops were becoming each other's problem.
Julius immediately capitalized.
Spirit arts erupted.
A massive flash illuminated the battlefield.
The entire highway vanished beneath blinding light.
Retreat horns sounded.
Crusch's army began withdrawing with the Whale's remains.
At the same time, our strike force broke away from the main formation.
Fast.
Very fast.
Then a scream echoed behind us.
"WAIT!"
Ley's voice.
Excited.
Ecstatic.
"We haven't eaten yet!"
My stomach dropped.
The Sin Archbishop exploded forward.
Not running.
Not sprinting.
Launching himself across the battlefield with monstrous speed.
The distance vanished instantly.
"JULIUS!"
I shouted.
Too late.
Ley appeared beside him.
A blur.
A grin.
A hand.
His fingertips brushed Julius's shoulder.
Just barely.
For a single instant.
Then Julius recoiled and slashed.
The blade passed through empty air.
Ley had already jumped backward.
The Archbishop licked his fingers.
And smiled.
The world froze.
Julius blinked.
Confused.
Then several knights looked around.
Puzzled.
One frowned.
"Who is that?"
Another looked at Julius.
Then looked away.
As if seeing a stranger.
My blood ran cold.
No.
No no no no.
Not enough.
He hadn't gotten a proper introduction.
He hadn't gotten a title.
He hadn't gotten a speech.
But a touch was enough.
A touch was enough to steal it directly.
The Spirit Knight sat atop his ground dragon.
Perfectly visible.
Perfectly present.
And suddenly nobody knew who he was.
Nobody except me.
I remembered.
I remembered Julius Juukulius.
The greatest knight in Lugunica.
The man riding twenty meters ahead of us.
The realization hit me like a hammer.
I remembered.
Everyone else forgot.
Ley's grin widened.
"Delicious."
The word came out as a sigh of satisfaction.
Then, unexpectedly, he stopped chasing.
The Archbishop tilted his head.
As if listening to something only he could hear.
His expression shifted.
Disappointment.
Regulus clicked his tongue.
"Finally."
The white-haired Archbishop sounded irritated.
"As if I would continue wasting my valuable time on this."
Ley looked toward us one last time.
Hungry.
Longing.
Almost reluctant.
Then he stepped back.
Regulus turned away.
Neither of them explained.
Neither of them attacked again.
They simply stopped.
The pursuit ended as abruptly as it had begun.
And moments later, both Archbishops disappeared into the distance.
Gone.
Just gone.
The road to Roswaal's domain became a desperate race against time.
Ground dragons thundered across the highway.
The Iron Fang pushed ahead as scouts.
Julius rode near the front.
Emilia remained close by.
Rem never left my side.
Behind us, far in the distance, Crusch's forces hauled away the severed head of the White Whale.
Proof.
Victory.
Political leverage.
Future employment.
A beautiful sight.
But not our destination.
Our destination was Irlam Village.
The Witch Cult.
And whatever catastrophe was waiting for us there.
I sat inside the carriage while Felix continued yelling medical things at me.
I ignored most of them.
The taste of blood and miasma remained awful.
But the black blood had mostly stopped.
Apparently my body was gradually purging the excess contamination.
That was tomorrow's problem.
Today's problem was reaching Emilia's people before they died.
I looked toward the road ahead.
I had saved lives.
Broken the timeline.
Outsmarted two Sin Archbishops.
And somehow secured my future government pension.
Now all that remained was preventing the next disaster.
Mission not yet accomplished.
Then my vision went black.
The last thing I heard was Felix screaming.
Again.
And then everything disappeared.