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On the edge of Reinhardt, deep in Wilhelm’s Forest, the chirping of birds accompanied the soft sounds of a beautiful grass flute. Three men stood on a narrow path—the judges for the Master Battle. They were the only three Masters who didn’t come from one of the empires.
Master Aiture, a cold, tense middle-aged man from the Kingdom of Dryia, was the first to break the silence.
“Joshua Sanders will come down this path soon. Today may be the last chance.”
“I never expected him to skip all the events,” mused Master Windmill of the Allied Powers of Palentine. “The only thing he did was engrave his name on the ancestral stone…”
“I heard he’s only interested in improving his skills. If he had given the outside world a little more thought, he wouldn’t have made such a foolish choice. No doubt Reinhardt’s vassals threw a fit. Hah.”
“His martial arts skills really don’t fit into common sense, do they.”
The rumors were a mess of ambiguous reports. Joshua had dived headfirst into politics when all he’d ever known was fighting.
Hasegi calmly put down his grass flute. “That’s why we need to eliminate him before he becomes a bigger issue. The last move he used against the Prince was…”
Aiture and Windmill didn’t reply.
“Avalon’s power has massively increased because of this Master Battle. Marcus von Britten is a bloodthirsty monster.”
“He’s not keeping his head down because he’s weak. He could start a war any time he wanted— he’s just looking for the right moment.” Windmill sighed.
“Joshua Sanders becoming king of Reinhardt is the same as Emperor Marcus controlling the most important location on the continent.” Aiture regarded them frostily. “Do you think that madman will miss a chance like this?”
The other two Masters spat a sigh when Aiture said what was on all of their minds.
“…Even in the Swallow Empire it’s a huge mess,” Windmill said.
Aiture tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“At the end of the Master Battle, the people of the Principality of Thran were moving strangely. The Emperor vanished like a ghost as soon as the Battle was over… so I looked into it.”
“It sounds like you were paid.”
Windmill was silent for a moment before nodding stiffly.
“Word is, Emperor Verona belle Grace’s life is in danger.”
Aiture and Hasegi stared at him, wide-eyed.
“There are rumors that his sickness is getting worse, and that it was triggered by an attempt on his life. I don’t know the details—in that, the Swallow Empire has been silent. Regardless, the most important thing is that Emperor Verona is in no condition to worry about anyone besides himself.” Windmill looked worried. “Emperor Verona has no sons, only three daughters. That means that with him gone, the throne of Swallow falls to—”
“Grand Duke Lucifer—!” Aiture let out a strangled moan.
The crown landed on the heads of the two most bloodthirsty men on the continent, it seemed. War was inevitable.
“Do the other monarchs know this?”
Windmill nodded. “The news must have been sent by express service to all kingdoms. Perhaps Swallow will have something to say soon.”
“All that’s left is to see how the Hubalt Empire turns out.”
“In times like this, all we can do is take things one step at a time,” Hasegi reassured Aiture.
“Yes, you’re right.” Aiture’s trembling eyes calmed. “When the war kicks off, all of the biggest names in history will be involved…”
The other two gave Aiture tight, apprehensive looks. They knew exactly who Aiture was referring to: the Black God. Duke Aden von Agnus of the Nine Stars was famous for his dark red blade. In the Avalon Empire, they called him a great god out of respect for his prowess. Elsewhere, he was better known as the Black God or the Battlefield Slayer. He went into battle dressed in black from head to toe.
“Wait!” Aiture whispered. “Something’s coming!”
They could feel something slowly making its way down the other end of the road. The three Masters didn’t need to think about who it would be. In spite of its name, the royal tomb held no bodies or treasures; it was just a large structure. There was only one person who would be coming here.
“Joshua Sanders!”
A steady flow of powerful energy emerged, seemingly in response to Aiture.
Ah… This is a Master’s energy indeed…
But then, their eyes widened. There was a second presence; they thought it would be the Lion King… but they were wrong.
“Joshua Sanders…” Hasegi muttered. “…and someone else?”
Something was wrong.
The figure slowly emerged into view. They knew who it was, but it wasn’t the person who they had been waiting for.
“HEHEHEHE.” The young man got close enough to smell them and licked his lips with his bright red, snake-like tongue. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long now… I can’t let you go…!”
“You—” Windmill inhaled sharply. The man’s energy was stranglingly powerful. “Is this how a Master moves?” The back of his neck dripped with cold sweat. They knew there was a difference between Imperial Masters and the other Masters, but it wasn’t this big. This man was something special.
“This will be a great pre-meal workout,” the young man babbled.
“Shit,” Aiture swore. “This is exactly what we were talking about.”
“No joke. They say Imperial Masters are getting arrogant enough to lie in the other Masters’ faces.”
Aiture and Hasegi shifted threateningly.
“Well…” The man smirked slyly as he approached. “It would be hard for me to treat them the same way you treat each other.”
Every trace of him vanished.
“I’ll follow you.”
Joshua met a pair of stubborn eyes with a worried expression.
“I didn’t think you’d act like this as soon as I got the Laypone. Disappointing.”
“Iceline…” Akshuler scratched his head. “You know Joshua didn’t mean to say that?”
Iceline stared at the ground, fuming. Akshuler had expected this ever since they heard Joshua was going to leave on his own.
“I know,” she said, raising her head. “You have to confront the Mercenary King. When the Pontier family was attacked, they must have thought they would die. I know you’d never be able to turn your back to danger.” Iceline’s blue eyes gazed up at him sadly.
She’d never really thought about how sad it would be if she couldn’t help anyone. Iceline had more than enough reasons to go to the Pontiers, even if Joshua hadn’t. Marquis Crombell was Count Rebrecca’s enemy as well.
But at this point, Iceline following him would only add to the stress.
“When we see each other again… When we see each other again, I will be the one helping you. And…” Iceline blushed furiously. “As Laypone’s value rises, you’ll get more deals. Be ready.”
“Isn’t our deal complete already?” Joshua chuckled.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
He smiled slyly. “This all works because I was taught well. You haven’t forgotten what you learned from Baron Provalum, have you?”
“Oh my… I didn’t think you’d know that.” Iceline stretched her hand out. “Make sure you come back. If you do something foolish, I’ll chase you all the way to hell.”
“Hah!” Joshua took her hand. “Great. I’ll hold you to it.”
“What?” Iceline blushed.
“Be careful. This Prince is not the same as the Mercenary King,” Akshuler warned Joshua.
“Thank you for your help.”
Akshuler took a step back and smiled.
“Is it my turn now?” Lilith moved forward. “Our deal still stands. It’s strange that you turned down my second offer and challenged the Mercenary King instead, but you are still our—No, my priority customer.” She flashed her usual smile. “I can’t wait to see you again, Master Joshua Sanders.”
“Stop that. You know I’ll treat it like the Holy Grail.”
“I’d appreciate that greatly.”
Lilith felt a stinging glare and made an “oops” expression, but then she smiled slyly. “And… Next time, let’s pick up where we left off that night. That shouldn’t be too much to ask for, I think?”
“What?”
“What?!”
Iceline and Akshuler both shouted at the same time.
“I’m afraid I have to go now.” Lilith departed, leaving confusion and silence in her wake.
“That… night?” Iceline raged inside as she watched Lilith’s back disappear.