Toaru Hikuushi e no Seiyaku:V8Part7

Part 16 (Part 7 of Volume 8)

Balthazar had no intention of meeting him until after he had taken control of the St Vault Empire.

But circumstances had forced his hand, leading him to this humiliating visit to that monster.

He gazed out of the car window with tired eyes, dark circles beneath them.

October 20th, 1351 Imperial Calendar, Northern Archipelago, Crossnodal Island

It had been just yesterday when he was ambushed by the treacherous assault orchestrated by Elisabeth. The precision with which it was carried out suggested meticulous planning. This morning, he was placed aboard the royal airship and flown over the Great Cascade to Crossnodal Island, where he was now being driven to meet the one person in the world he wanted to avoid most.

"I knew about your adventures on the Eriadore airship from the beginning, brother. You didn't exactly hide your activities," Simon Berner, sitting beside him in the back seat of the luxury car, spoke.

Balthazar didn’t like his brother’s tone, even after their long-awaited reunion.

"I never intended to hide. Anyone who wanted to follow me was free to do so. I had no intention of returning to that house anyway."

"That sounds just like you." Simon’s response was brief, as he shifted his gaze to the passing scenery of Crossnodal Island. The island had seen many battles, and now the Imperial Army, retreating from the Hydrabard Archipelago, was gathering here as a key defence against the Uranos Archipelago Fleet.

"I would have preferred to see you back at home. But thanks to Uranos’ invasion, we had to flee from Krista to this island's villa. It’s your first time here, right?"

"And our parents?"

"They’re at the Campanella Knights' territory. Three years ago, Father upset the chairman and got sent there."

"That’s a backwater wasteland in the Vestelant Continent. Nothing of note there."

"They seem to be enjoying themselves. Father never liked power struggles much anyway. Here's a postcard they sent last month." Simon handed Balthazar a postcard with a picture of their parents enjoying a seaside vacation. Balthazar snorted and handed it back.

"I don’t care."

Their parents, who had sent their son to the battlefield at their grandfather’s whim, were getting what they deserved. As long as they were happy, that was fine.

It had been eight years since Balthazar ran away from their home in Krista on the Mitterland continent at the age of fourteen. He had run with a boyish ambition, chasing a dream that was now almost within reach. And yet, here he was, humiliating himself by visiting his grandfather. He couldn’t understand why Elisabeth had insisted on this visit. Surely, their grandfather wouldn’t even remember the grandson who had left at fourteen, especially now, on his deathbed.

Meeting him now was meaningless.

Perhaps if he had taken control of the St Vault Empire first, he could have given his grandfather something to marvel at. But now, with nothing to show for it, he wouldn’t even register in Renior's eyes.

"I'm glad you came back, brother."

As the car passed through the gates of the grand villa, Simon spoke again.

"This wasn’t my choice. It was the queen’s command."

Technically, it was a threat, not a command, but there was no need to explain that.

"There are a lot of executives who want to meet the 'Strategist of Achilles.'"

"I'm not staying long. I’ll see the old man and leave. You’ll report that to the queen, and that’s it."

"That’s a shame. You could at least stay for dinner."

After driving through the sprawling estate, the outdated Gemini-style villa came into view, with its gaudy pointed roofs and faded walls. Vines clung to the structure, giving it an air of decay that matched the state of the monster inside.

As soon as the car stopped at the entrance, they were greeted by nearly twenty servants who lined up to welcome them. Without wasting time, Balthazar stepped inside the grand entrance.

"Would you like tea first?"

"No. Where’s the old man?"

"Impatient as always."

Balthazar wanted to leave this house, this island, as quickly as possible. He detested the grand paintings, the lavish furnishings, and the wall sconces. Everything in this place disgusted him. As they proceeded through the mansion, the musty, oppressive atmosphere only thickened, weighing down on him.

Despite himself, Balthazar felt his heartbeat quicken.

Each step forward seemed to send a strange chill through his nerves. He had faced countless death-defying situations since his mission on the Eriadore airship, yet the dense, oppressive aura of Renior weighed heavily on him, mocking his accumulated experience and gnawing at his body and mind.

—Even bedridden, this monster still can’t help but crush everyone around him.

As Balthazar muttered curses in his mind, they reached the door at the far end of the second floor, the most extravagant door in the mansion.

"The master is inside. Are you ready?"

Balthazar nodded in silence, and the butler knocked, announcing his arrival before opening the door.

The dense, suffocating air that had filled the room rushed out like a torrent. It was the same ominous aura he remembered from the past.

After briefly closing his eyes to brace himself, Balthazar stepped into the oversized bedroom.

Towering glass windows lined the walls, and the angled sunlight reflected off the polished marble floor. A birdcage near one of the open windows housed a bird with rare plumage, chirping softly.

In the centre of the room, a single black ebony bed with a canopy stood out.

An older gentleman, probably in his fifties, stood by the bed and greeted Balthazar.

"I am Wyzack, Chairman Renior’s legal counsel. We’ve been expecting you. This way, please."

Balthazar, following the lawyer’s lead, approached the bed.

"……………………"

Lying there was the monster, Renior Berner. His face was just as Balthazar remembered, twisted in a perpetual scowl as if he always had something bitter in his mouth. His sharp eyes were locked on Balthazar, glaring at him.

—Was he always this small?

That was Balthazar’s first impression. The facial features were the same, but his body seemed two sizes smaller, shrivelled like a dried-up deep-sea creature. Renior Berner was now a frail and distorted version of his former self.

Wyzack leaned down to whisper something into Renior’s ear.

The old man glared up at him in annoyance, shooing him away with a weak flick of his wrist. Without a word, Wyzack gave Balthazar a slight bow and gestured to Simon, who nodded, and the two quietly left the room.

"…………?"

For some reason, Balthazar was now alone in the room with Renior. This wasn’t what he had expected. He had planned to exchange a few words, perhaps throw in some snide remarks, and then leave, but that didn’t seem to be the case now.

The shrivelled old man simply glared at him from the bed.

Balthazar stood beside the bed, looking down in silence at what was left of the once mighty financial titan who had ruled the Archipelago.

The room was filled with silence once again, save for the occasional chirp from the birdcage. Balthazar had finally broken the tension, unable to bear it any longer.

“It’s been a while.”

In a voice surprisingly firm for someone on the brink of death, Renior Berner responded without missing a beat, “How’s the medic role treating you, brat?”

Balthazar was somewhat taken aback by his clarity.

“You remember me, then?”

“Do you have a brain, boy?”

The dismissive answer clearly irritated him, but Balthazar shrugged it off. “I’ve learned how to treat all kinds of injuries.”

He remembered how he’d thrown up countless times and begged for forgiveness when he first saw the soldiers' bodies and wounds, but none of that showed on his face now. Instead, he returned the remark with calm sarcasm, causing Renior’s already twisted expression to contort even further.

“Your rotten nature hasn’t changed, I see.”

“……………………”

“I can tell by looking at your face. A brat stays a brat, no matter how old he gets.”

“……………………”

“I heard something about 'the Eight Balls' or whatever. Look at you, playing make-believe with a bunch of lowlifes, acting all high and mighty.”

Balthazar assumed Renior was referring to "The Seven of Eriadore." The incorrect name and number were one thing, but calling them playmates was unforgivable.

“They’re not friends,” Balthazar replied, keeping his anger in check. “They’re my subordinates.”

Elisabeth or Kagura would’ve blown up at this comment, but with neither present, Balthazar felt it wasn’t worth the effort.

“Don’t correct me, brat. All you should do is nod along and agree with what I say.”

“……………………”

“Just because some fool like Raphael favours you, you’ve become arrogant. I’ve seen your kind many times before—young men riding high on their false genius, only to fall once the ladder is pulled from under them.”

“……………………”

“I can already see it—your pathetic face when your charade crumbles. You’ll be a sight to laugh at, the so-called genius revealed for the fool he always was.”

Balthazar had long known that Renior’s soul was a cesspool of malice, but hearing these insults face-to-face stoked his anger. Employees of the Berner Group might tolerate this abuse, but Balthazar wasn’t beholden to his grandfather. He was a strategist of the Imperial Army. He owed this old man no deference. With the two of them alone in the room, Balthazar could finally vent the rage that had been building for years. After all, Renior would be dead soon.

Feigning a relaxed demeanour, Balthazar ran a hand through his hair with exaggerated nonchalance. “Thank you for the unsolicited life advice, Grandfather. I’ve always aspired to live a life as magnificent as yours.”

“Stop smiling like that. It’s disgusting. I can see the filth behind your eyes.”

Balthazar’s smile widened as he sarcastically gestured to the bird in the cage. “It seems all your hard work has left you with nothing but this lonely bed, visited only by your lawyer and a bird. All that toil, all that scheming, just to end up here, without family or friends.”

Renior chuckled dryly, his voice dripping with mockery. “The bird is enough. Human company is tiresome. Dying alone suits me just fine.”

“I can’t say I envy you.”

“And you? Surrounded by your little friends, licking each other’s wounds? You think that makes you any less pathetic?”

Balthazar’s patience snapped. "I don’t envy your 'accomplishments' at all, old man."

Renior’s tone shifted slightly, a sliver of authority creeping into his voice. “Oh? You don’t envy my achievements?”

There was a subtle change—he wasn’t just hurling insults anymore.

“That’s right. I think everything you’ve done is utterly meaningless.”

Renior ordered abruptly, "Help me sit up."

“What?”

“I can’t do it myself. Help me up.”

The old man, looking like a shrivelled infant, raised his arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Balthazar hesitated for a moment, then begrudgingly helped him, supporting his back and raising him slowly.

“Not so rough, you idiot! Slowly!” Renior barked, panting as he finally settled in a half-sitting position, his fierce eyes locking onto Balthazar.

“Now, tell me,” Renior demanded. “What gives you the right to look down on my accomplishments?”

The man who had built the world’s largest conglomerate glared at Balthazar with the intensity of a steel blade. “If your reason is half-baked, I’ll kill you. You know very well that even the Imperial Army’s command can’t escape my influence. Who do you think is funding the empire right now?”

The old man’s words held weight, and for a moment, Balthazar felt a chill. But he steeled himself. He’d survived countless trials since running away, and he wasn’t about to back down now.

He decided then and there. He would crush this man.

Taking a deep breath, Balthazar began. “Very well. Let’s start from the beginning, when you were still just a loan shark. The secret to the Berner Group’s success lies in your early tactics.”

Renior remained silent, his eyes boring into Balthazar.

“You first set your sights on the Lindblum family in Vestelant. Surrounded by powerful lords, they had land but no money. So, you convinced them of an imminent threat, knowing that the quickest way to get a nobleman into debt is to make him build up his military. In exchange for lending them money, you secured various privileges, the most notable being tax rights over the lands they conquered using your funds. With your backing, Lindblum crushed its neighbouring factions one by one, and you gained even more privileges. But that was just the beginning of your cunning.”

Renior’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“After Lindblum had subdued its enemies, you created a new threat. You knew that to control a government, it’s best to keep them in constant fear. So, you funded their enemies from behind the scenes, strengthening their military and then whispering in Lindblum’s ear: ‘There’s a new enemy, stronger than the last. You need more soldiers.’”

Balthazar’s voice grew more heated as he spoke.

“You realized that war creates wealth, and for war to continue, you need nations to keep competing with each other. You ensured that no one government became too powerful. Whenever one nation came close, you manipulated the international financial market to funnel money to its rivals. Your goal was always the same—never let anyone win.”

Balthazar could barely contain his fury as he concluded.

“The arms race had to continue indefinitely. You ensured that, as long as nations fought, you would profit. You sold the world’s future to fuel your own greed.”

Renior’s face remained impassive, but Balthazar could see the truth. His grandfather’s machinations had resulted in millions of deaths, children starving across the world, all to make the Berner Group fatter.

"You succeeded, all right. While the world tore itself apart, you gorged yourself on the profits. And now, after sowing disaster, all you have left is this isolation. Tell me, where is the joy in that? Where is the happiness?"

Balthazar’s voice trembled, not with fear but with a strange sadness. Looking at the old man lying in his bed, Balthazar saw the most pitiful figure he had ever known.

“I’m not like you.”

The words poured out, unbidden.

“I know what happiness is.”

He remembered Kagura’s smile, the warmth that had filled his chest as he carried her from the prison. This old man could never understand that feeling.

“You’ve won nothing, Grandfather. You’ve lost everything.”

In that moment, Balthazar made a decision. He wasn’t sure if it was his choice or some deeper instinct speaking.

“I’ll end this war.”

The words felt foreign to him, yet undeniably true.

“I’ll undo the chaos you created.”

Where had this come from? He didn’t know. But he felt it in his bones, in the very marrow of his soul.

“So don’t die yet.”

He was going to surpass the man he had chased all his life. He would go beyond him.

“Wait until I’ve ended the war, then die.”

That’s my gift to you, old man.

“I’ll clean up your mess.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Renior shouted, “Wyzack!”

The door burst open, and the lawyer hurried inside.

“Give it to him,” Renior commanded.

Despite all the insults, the old man showed no sign of emotion, speaking with calm authority. Wyzack bowed and moved to a hidden panel in the wall, retrieving a small envelope from a concealed safe.

“Read it outside,” Renior muttered. “Not here. It’s too damn suffocating.”

Balthazar took the thin envelope from Wyzack and glanced at his grandfather, unsure of what had just transpired.

“What’s with that stupid look on your face?” Renior snapped, his expression as sour as ever.

“Uh... my speech. What’s your response to it?”

Like a fool, Balthazar couldn’t help but ask.

Renior’s answer was cold and blunt. “Thirty-two points. Out of five hundred. The first half was decent enough, but the second half was a mess—too emotional.”

"Let me sleep."

"Huh?"

"I'm exhausted from listening to your pointless long-winded speech. Let me sleep."

"Oh, right."

Balthazar obediently supported Renior's back and laid him down, just as he had done earlier. Renior's body felt light, stiff, and as though no blood was flowing through it.

"Simon. You will be the witness. Read that letter together with him."

At Renior's call, Simon, who had apparently been listening from the hallway, peeked in with a somewhat awkward expression.

"...Yes, as you command."

"Hmph. I have no more use for you. You may leave now, brat."

Renior dismissed him roughly and closed his eyes. Balthazar, who had been bracing for some unimaginable retaliation, felt a bit deflated and could only turn his back on his grandfather.

Just as he was about to leave the room, a voice called out from behind.

"Balthazar."

"...?"

It was the first time Renior had addressed him by name, and he turned around.

"I’m counting on you."

The voice reached him from the bed, though Renior's face remained unseen.

"...Understood."

With just that, Balthazar left the room.

He closed the door behind him and exchanged glances with Simon in the hallway.

"You’re lucky to be alive, brother."

Simon, having likely overheard the entire conversation, was pale with fear.

"I was given this."

Balthazar pulled a sealed envelope from his pocket and held it up before Simon’s face.

"Let’s read it in the garden. I’m supposed to confirm it with you."

Agreeing, Balthazar walked alongside his brother, retracing their steps down the hallway.

Before long, they stepped outside into the courtyard.

The weather was clear and pleasant. The well-maintained lawn gleamed under the gentle sunlight. What had seemed gloomy when they arrived now appeared bright and radiant.

"Shall I open it?"

"Go ahead."

Knowing full well that Renior might have hidden some kind of razor blade inside, Balthazar cautiously opened the envelope.

Inside, there was only a single piece of paper.

The content was brief.

Last Will and Testament

The undersigned bequeaths the position of Chairman of the Berner Group to Balthazar Berner.

The undersigned also bequeaths all of their assets to Balthazar Berner.

October 20th, 1351 of the Empire’s Calendar

Signed, Renior Berner

Balthazar read it once and scratched his head.

He read it again.

The content remained the same.

He looked at his brother.

"What does it say?"

When asked, Balthazar tilted his head and read the brief statement once more.

"I don’t get it."

He handed the letter to Simon.

Simon read it over once, nodded, and returned the will to Balthazar with little surprise.

"I thought it might be something like this."

He showed no significant reaction.

"Let me explain. It wasn’t me who asked Queen Elisabeth to have you visit him. It was the Chairman. He probably wanted to assess your abilities."

"................"

"You and the Chairman are very much alike. You both have genius-level abilities, but you struggle to get along with others and don’t know how to communicate properly. Despite being incredibly competent, you’re both so clumsy that you end up treating people like tools and saying or doing terrible things. Even though you each respect the other more than anyone, neither of you ever shows it."

As Simon’s words echoed in the distance, Balthazar looked down at the will for the fourth time.

"The Chairman knew everything about your achievements. Even after you left home, he continued to keep tabs on you. I was even sent by him to secretly observe you at the Air Hunt Officer Academy. The Chairman always saw you as his successor. I know that better than anyone. After all, I was never even on his radar. The reason he was so harsh on you as a child was because he was thinking about your future."

Finally, Balthazar understood the contents of the will.

"And today, the Chairman gave you a test. That will is basically your certificate of passing."

Simon smiled warmly.

"Congratulations, brother. How does it feel to have inherited the world?"

For a while, Balthazar stared at the document—then, without warning, he began tearing the will to pieces.

"B-brother!?"

Simon’s eyes widened in shock as he rushed to stop his brother, but Balthazar quickly shredded the letter and threw the pieces into the air.

"What are you doing!?"

The scraps, now too small to be read, fluttered away in the wind.

Balthazar said nothing, stomping repeatedly on the pieces that had fallen to the ground. As Simon moved to stop him, he caught a glimpse of his brother’s face and froze.

"Brother..."

Though his movements were rough, his expression almost looked as though he was crying.

The gentle wind carried the remaining pieces of the will far into the distance.

Balthazar channelled every bit of his raging emotions into stomping the paper fragments into the earth.

A fiery, consuming anger boiled up from the depths of his soul, threatening to swallow him whole.

"It's the worst. Worse than crap. Even less than the maggots infesting the crap."

Every cell in Balthazar's body seemed to be chanting that in unison.

He raised his knee to waist height and stomped on the shredded will, grinding it underfoot. Again and again, until the hateful paper was broken down to the molecular level.

"Damn old man."

He muttered the words and clenched his teeth. Blood dripped from his mouth where he'd bitten the inside, but he didn't care.

"I was just dancing in the palm of your hand, wasn't I?"

He let the anger overwhelm him.

"You made all my efforts meaningless with a single piece of paper."

Leaving home at fourteen, enduring poverty while self-studying, earning a scholarship to enter the Air Hunt Officer Academy. Attending aristocrats' parties morning to night, building connections with influential people. Despite having his proposals ignored over and over again, never giving up and persistently advising those incompetent strategists.

"All of it was to destroy you."

And yet, this damn old man...

Had the audacity to hand over everything he had built with his life—his position, his wealth—to Balthazar.

As if he had known all along that Balthazar would be driven by hatred to keep pushing forward. As if he had foreseen Balthazar climbing, step by painful step, toward the lofty throne Renior presided over.

—He valued me more than anyone.

—He understood me better than anyone.

—And that's why he entrusted everything to me.

Were the tears welling up out of frustration? Or was it something else? He couldn't tell. But shedding them would mean he had lost. There was no greater humiliation than that.

The anger at himself wouldn't subside. He stomped on the paper again and again, smashing it into the grass and soil until it disappeared.

It was clear now who had been the bigger person, between him and his grandfather. Compared to Renior, Balthazar felt like nothing more than a clown.

—How can I ever surpass you?

The answer had already been clear moments ago, when he threw those raw emotions at Renior.

To surpass his grandfather, he had to follow through on the words he had hurled in a fit of rage.

He wiped his eyes with his arm. Twice, three times.

Suppressing the surge of emotion, he looked up at the sky, making sure Simon couldn’t see his tears.

Everything that had been weighing on his heart seemed to dissolve into the clear blue above.

Balthazar gazed up at the sky, letting the wind blow through him, and then forced out the words:

"...I don't need the old man's leftovers. You can have it all."

"Brother..."

"I have something I need to do. I don't have time to be tied down to this shabby house. Someone as ordinary as you is more suited to run this place."

Simon stared at his brother in shock for a moment, then shrugged.

"...The entire Berner conglomerate? It’s got more assets than the national budgets of some great powers. What could be so important that you'd abandon that?"

Balthazar, his expression now softened, swore to the October sky.

"I'll end this war."

There was no other way to surpass Renior.

Bringing the Second Multi-Island Sea War and the war with Urano to an end would be the only proof that he had surpassed his grandfather.

"I’m counting on you."

Renior’s earlier words echoed in the blue sky. Surely, even Renior must have experienced untold suffering and regret, unable to express them to others. Building a company from a small-town moneylender, supporting the livelihoods of hundreds of thousands of employees—he must have faced countless moments when he had to sacrifice his humanity. When Renior called Balthazar’s name and uttered those final words, perhaps his true wish was embedded in them.

—Fine, I'll do it, damn old man.

—But don't die yet. Wait in that lonely bed with your bird.

—I’ll show you the end of this foolish war.

Balthazar finally allowed himself a faint smile. He shoved both hands into his pockets and told Simon to call for their ride.

Simon threw up his hands in a gesture of helplessness and shrugged.

"Even if you say you're giving it to me, well... I'll have to talk it over with Mr. Wyzack. What am I supposed to do with all this...?"

As his brother looked lost, Balthazar suddenly remembered something.

"By the way, what about the jet?"

"Huh?"

"I ordered you to build a jet when I left home. I told you to make one within ten years."

"Oh, that. Yeah, don’t worry, I’ve been working on it."

When Balthazar left home at fourteen, he’d made that demand of Simon as a parting order. It had been eight years since then. It seemed Simon had faithfully pursued the project. Balthazar was impressed.

"You actually did it? I thought you'd forget about it immediately."

Simon smiled sheepishly.

"Of course I forgot right away. But the Chairman was the one who kept it going, the jet engine project. He was convinced when you gave your speech at your birthday party about why jets were necessary. The project has been advancing secretly within Berner Heavy Industries, and they’ve gotten the jet engine to a usable state."

Balthazar couldn't help but grunt in acknowledgment. So Renior had been thinking the same things as him, and had already put those thoughts into action. Just as Simon said, Renior had shared the same vision for the future.

"But they haven’t managed to attach it to a plane yet. There’s still an issue with aerodynamics. When approaching the speed of sound, different parts of the plane reach supersonic and subsonic speeds, making it uncontrollable. It’ll probably take another two or three years to make it flyable as a jet."

"I see... Then transfer full control of the project to me. The only thing I want from Renior is the jet engine."

"You’re not asking for much. I’ll take care of it. But are you sure that’s all you want? I mean, not to be rude, but it’s just an engine you can’t even put on a plane. There’s a lot more valuable stuff you could take."

Simon looked incredulous, but Balthazar laughed it off.

"It’s enough."

He already had a vision in his head for the jet engine. As he gazed up at the autumn sky, dreaming of the future—

"Major Grim!"

An officer in the uniform of the Saint Volte Empire came rushing toward them from behind the trees, clearly in a state of panic.

"...?"

The officer saluted, catching his breath, and informed Balthazar that he was a captain in the communications unit stationed on Crossnodal Island.

"There’s an urgent message from Air Hunt Island’s Operations Command. You are to return to Operations Command immediately. A high-speed reconnaissance plane has been prepared for you. Please proceed to Crossnodal Fourth Airfield at once!"

"An urgent message...?"

Balthazar frowned. He couldn’t imagine what kind of situation would require him to be summoned to headquarters by name.

"What is this about?"

When Balthazar asked, the captain of the communications unit stiffened his expression and stood tall.

“This morning, in the Kingdom of Keiken, an imperial decree of abdication was issued, and Daitoku Shinnou has ascended the throne as Yoshihito, the 112th Emperor of the Kingdom of Keiken!”

Balthazar nodded, understanding. There had been rumours about the Emperor’s declining health, and it seemed he had finally abdicated.

"Along with this, through diplomatic channels, the Kingdom has reached out to arrange a meeting with the Saint Volte side as quickly as possible."

A small breath escaped Balthazar. The fact that they were initiating negotiations was good news. If the southern riverfront conflict, the Achilles' heel of the Empire, could be resolved through diplomacy, nothing would be better. But why had an urgent message been sent directly to him?

"The Kingdom has specifically named the person they want as the Imperial plenipotentiary. They will not negotiate with anyone else. Please wait, I will read the full message from the Kingdom…"

The captain took out the telegram from his briefcase. Balthazar's heart began to beat heavily, sensing something.

Could it be?

"Appoint Major Balthazar Grim as the Imperial plenipotentiary and dispatch him to the Kariba Bridge, Tsurugawa, on the southern front. The negotiations will only proceed if Major Grim is present. Two days will be granted for his arrival. End of message. Sent by Special Plenipotentiary of the Kingdom of Keiken, Kagura Murasaki."

Hearing the name, like a sharp invisible stake, it pierced through Balthazar's heart.

"...Kagura...!"

He couldn’t fathom how she had managed it, but it seemed Kagura had risen to a position of power in this foreign land, high enough to be granted authority rivalling that of a head of state.

"...Understood. I’ll leave immediately. Simon, do whatever you want with everything here. I'm busy."

Simon shrugged his shoulders.

"Important work?"

"Yeah. I’m off to save the world."

Balthazar responded to his brother’s exasperated tone as he hurried into the waiting car, heading straight for the airfield. With the high-speed reconnaissance plane, he should be able to return to Air Hunt Island within four hours. Reviewing the latest intel on the Kingdom of Eiken in the backseat, his thoughts were consumed by Kagura.

‘We’ll meet again. We absolutely will. But only when we’ve both grown stronger.’

That was about two years ago. Those words, spoken after a kiss before they parted on the floating fortress Odin, echoed repeatedly in his mind.

‘When you’ve become someone strong enough to change the world with your own power, we’ll meet again.’

As he made his way to the airfield, the memory of Kagura’s warm smile seemed to blanket the clear skies over Crossnodal Island.