Batalion was miserable these days.
Everywhere he went, he was met ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) with disapproving stares from the Kreutz bastards.
Gloomy, being an illusionist whose whole life had probably been a fabrication, seemed unfazed by their glares.
But Batalion, a sniper hypersensitive to others’ gazes, felt like he was developing a stress disorder.
The better Hiaka did, the more intense those stares became.
And then came another report that defied belief—a new [Stigma] had descended.
“You call that news?!”
Bang!
Batalion slammed the desk. It couldn’t handle the force and broke in half.
“A f***ing [Stigma] exploded over that damn tree, and now another one?! Who is it this time?! What kind of [Stigma]?!”
“Well, we’re not quite sure yet, it’s an unknown classification—”
“Find out. Now!”
That was when Batalion got the worst kind of gut feeling.
Because what is a [Stigma]?
It’s a blessing from the stars.
And as seen from system ranking shifts, it bestows an absurd, overwhelming power.
Rankings!
That was the problem.
Top-tier warriors—Grandmasters and above—across the continent spend blood, sweat, and tears trying to raise their rank by just a single digit. They fight beasts, train obsessively, and study endlessly.
So much so that gaining ten ranks in a year is considered a major achievement.
Everyone’s obsessed with it like lunatics.
Even he himself—just last year he was ranked 442. After a grueling year, he’d climbed to 415.
But earning a [Stigma]? That alone could jump you up 20, even 30 places.
In a single stroke. In one moment!
‘And yet... in just two weeks, there’ve been two of them...!!’
It felt like his eyes were flipping inside out.
Who the hell were these lucky f***s?
‘Goddammit!!’
Hiaka—the kingdom he’d thrown away—
Was suddenly thriving.
‘Why the hell is this happening...?’
But there was no time to stew in it.
Hiaka was clearly plotting something. Multiple suspicious activities had surfaced, and some even slipped through the intelligence network of Kreutz’s top brass, Batalion included.
They had to be stopped.
Batalion scrambled to find someone.
The setting: a seedy bar littered with gambling tables.
Dark, smoky, reeking of booze and vice.
“Professor Bakien! A moment, if you will?”
“Eh? Who the hell...? Oh. What brings you here?”
A slouching professor, puffing on a rolled cigarette, turned to look at him.
The other patrons turned their heads, eyes narrowing.
“Oh? No way. Is that... is that him?”
“Batal... Man, he looks like some stick-up scholar IRL...”
Snickers and chuckles from drunken lowlifes rippled through the place.
Batalion closed his eyes. These worthless vermin dared to mock him... But even so, there was only one man he could entrust this job to.
Senior Professor of Alchemy at Kreutz Academy—Bakien. A master of explosives and projectile weaponry.
“Hey, hey. Button it, guys. This is the senior professor.”
Bakien smiled as he silenced his buddies.
He used to be an assassin in the White Saber Division, specializing in diplomacy. A former operative in a continent-shaking assassination squad, he had deep connections throughout the Empire.
Batalion explained the situation.
“There is no one else I can turn to. Take care of it.”
“Hm...”
Bakien chuckled and held up three fingers.
“Thirty million? Just get it done and I’ll give you fifty.”
The eye behind Bakien’s mask widened.
Surprised?
Fifty million Hika was a colossal sum.
The setting made it obvious: Bakien was a gambling addict.
He was desperate for money. Prone to drinking, fighting, losing himself in pleasure—and debt. But those same flaws had earned him wide influence in the Empire.
“All right. Wait here. I’ll be back.”
After Bakien left—
Batalion clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might crack.
‘Just die already, you bug-infested kingdom!’
He couldn’t stand the sight of Hiaka thriving. Not even if it meant his own grave.
But still...
There was one thing he needed to know.
That tree—visible now even in the [Mirage] Gloomy had projected into the office—had been created by a man named “Cain.”
Batalion had to know who that was.
Not knowing was driving him insane.
‘That level of power... He must be at least [Challenger]-rank...’
Batalion, as an assassin, was well-versed in [Illusions].
That was no ordinary illusion.
Definitely Challenger.
Possibly even higher.
To control something so massive... Only one name came to mind: Agion of the Empire’s Hattengraj Academy.
“Stellar Throne⁺₊⋆” Agion. Currently ranked 20th in the world.
After Abraxas disappeared, he became humanity’s most prominent illusionist. A magician-assassin hybrid, known for turning an entire enemy capital into an illusion in order to assassinate its king.
Agion had praised the tree publicly just a few days ago—but who knows? Maybe he was just admiring his own work.
‘......’
But what if he wasn’t?
Then...
‘......’
That would mean Hiaka harbors a monster.
A monster named “Cain,” whose identity no one knows...
***
The moment I sat beside her, Rebecca responded.
“Are you going to keep creeping up on me?”
She said that, but wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Which meant... she was feeling a different kind of discomfort.
“If you agree, I’ll help you again later.”
A pragmatic offer.
Rebecca inhaled sharply and let out a sigh that seemed to rise from the planet’s mantle.
“...Fine. I’ll accompany Gray to the Empire. But I have two conditions.”
“Let’s hear them.”
“We’ll be attacking Starfall Mountain soon. I want you to lead the assault team.”
“Starfall Mountain?”
“Yes. I need the land for a property project.”
“Is it related to your [Curse]?”
“......”
Rebecca slowly raised a slender index finger to her lips, vertically.
Silence.
“...Word is, there’s some monster haunting that graveyard on the mountain. We just need to drive it off or kill it. The academy’s being passive about it, so we’re bringing in external talent. They’re rough types who won’t follow orders. We need someone like you.”
“Why don’t you lead it?”
“I have to play nice in front of people.”
I thought for a moment.
That enormous [Error Space] might hold some unknown monstrosity.
Ran described it as “something that should’ve died but didn’t.”
Could be something on the level of Jinksythe.
Still, even if killing it was hard, driving it off should be possible.
“Understood. What’s your second condition?”
“You said you’d apply as a mentor, right?”
I had. Just before applying, I told her I’d be adding Gray, Elize, and Balmung to the assassination unit.
It was a move to push Rebecca out of the Dormant Dragon Cadets.
“Add Kendreik to that team too.”
“......”
Now what is this?
“Kendreik’s been acting off lately. Locked in his room, not coming out.”
“What happened?”
“Not sure, but I think it’s related to his family falling into ruin. He’s been really off.”
She said it twice—really, really off.
“Is that my decision to make? If he refuses, there’s nothing I can do.”
“...Then at least try.”
“Fine. I’ll deal with it after the studio trip.”
Rebecca nodded.
Her veil fluttered.
“So, whose blood is that?”
At my question, Rebecca glanced at the mirror, searching her cheek for the dark smudge.
Bloodstain.
Someone else’s.
“...The bishop of the Virgin Mother Church in Sector 5.”
“Why’d you kill him?”
“He said I wasn’t qualified to be bishop.”
I paused for a moment.
“Do you want to be bishop?”
“Bishop is just a pit stop.”
“And the destination?”
“Saint.”
“The church’s saint? There’s already one, isn’t there? That imperial girl.”
“I’ll have to kill her.”
“...Bold words.”
A strange silence drifted between us.
Then Rebecca spoke.
“Have I ever told you my dream, Professor?”
“You haven’t.”
I guessed it might involve the emperor’s assassination.
But it didn’t.
Rebecca’s dream went far beyond that.
“I’m going to make Hiaka the new Empire.”
“......”
“Hattengraj will fall. Hiaka will rise in its place. And I’ll be the new emperor.”
It sounded completely delusional.
But her red eyes showed not a trace of doubt or hesitation.
“......”
After a beat of silence, she asked:
“Why are you quiet? Do I sound like a delusional lunatic to you?”
“I don’t judge people’s dreams. But I am curious—why that dream?”
“I want to be the sky.”
“Why?”
“...Who knows. You really ask everything, don’t you?”
There was a silent “How dare you” in her tone.
I mean, who but a king would dare question a princess’s dreams?
“...I don’t know. Maybe it’s because all I could see from the bottom of the well was the sky...”
She waved her hand like she regretted saying something unnecessary.
“I’ll go now. I’ve got an evening appointment.”
“Alright.”
“And... since we were talking about instincts. Want me to kill her? That woman.”
Her eyes settled on Adele’s desk. On a photo sitting atop it.
“...Thanks, but no.”
“Be careful. She’s far more ominous than she seems.”
“......”
Still can’t bring myself to like this one.
Dreams or whatever—I don’t care.
To me, Rebecca isn’t a cadet or a child.
She’s a demon in the shell of a young girl.
She kills bishops who insult her.
Plans to kill saints.
Offers to murder strangers on a whim.
Yeah.
She’s the real witch of the palace.
...The real one?
What kind of thought is that?
And then—
“...Professor. We’re on the same side, right?”
Rebecca asked this out of nowhere.
“Of course.”
“......”
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Never mind.”
I brushed the thought away.
I had to keep deceiving her properly.
“Something seems to be bothering you.”
“No, nothing.”
No—she was clearly troubled by something.
Maybe it was that so-called “instinct” of hers.
“There’s no need to doubt.”
“......”
I needed to give her trust—but I honestly had no idea how to do that.
Still, I had a vague clue.
The last time her feet gave out and she collapsed, I’d caught her in my arms.
In that moment, she’d averted her gaze.
This sociopathic, deranged witch had looked away.
At the time, she’d said:
“Don’t touch me.”
I tried to let go, apologizing—
“...Because I start wanting to believe.”
She’d whispered it.
So—touch equals trust for Rebecca. That’s how I’d programmed her in my mind. Just like when I sat beside her earlier.
And so now—
“You can trust me.”
I reached out to her cheek. Toward the bloodstain.
“We boarded the same ship that day.”
“......”
“I shackled you with influence. You shackled me with one hundred million Hika. We’re bound together.”
She turned her head slightly, but my hand followed.
At the end of that tiny pursuit, my fingertips reached her cheek. She didn’t flinch.
I extended my nails. She didn’t move.
“I’ll always be on your side.”
“......”
Her face stayed unreadable. But her eyes were clearly not meeting mine.
Slowly, I scraped away the dried blood with my nails.
“......”
There are things you can only see up close. Like the tiny cross-shaped earring hanging from her ear.
A symbol of the Virgin’s constellation, †Crux†.
Doesn’t it suit her perfectly? Like a wooden stake. At least, that’s how I saw it.
“...Next time, say it. Don’t touch me.”
The next move is simple. I will use my contract with Rebecca—use her feelings.
And when the time comes, I’ll discard her without hesitation.
“Understood.”
A witch deserves a cross.