Those colossal beasts, each one towered higher than the walls, their bodies sheathed in rigid scales that gleamed with a cold, sharp light beneath the ghostly blue moon. Ordinary magic and weapons could scarcely pierce them.

The atmosphere atop the wall grew tense once more. Compared to the earlier cannon fodder, these beasts that had now come ashore were the true main force!

“But on our side... I’m not really main force material.”

Professor Prang spoke quietly.

As his words fell, another voice laughed.

“No wonder you are considered a high disciple of Mentor Meladomir. To instantly cast such a combined magic array in so little time, and with such force—truly admirable.”

An old man in an archaic mage’s robe appeared at his side, a wide wizard’s hat shading his eyes, which glowed with genuine praise.

The Origin Tower.

Dodge Slore.

Professor Prang nodded politely, then said: “I am not a disciple of Mentor Meladomir. In my youth, I only once received her guidance. I’m far from worthy of being called a high disciple.”

“Is that so?”

Dodge was not disheartened. Instead, his gaze burned hotter.

“Just from a single pointer you’ve attained this much. Then how remarkable must her true disciples be? How I long to sit with them in deep conversation, to explore the ultimate limits of magic together.”

“...”

Professor Prang’s cheek twitched violently.

The so-called “high disciple” you’re talking about... right now he can only cast a single Illumination Spell!

“But now is not the time for long talks. Another day, when there is leisure, I will certainly visit Saint Maria Academy to seek instruction.”

With those words, Dodge’s body shot upward into the skies, rising higher.

From there, he took in the entire cruel, bloody battlefield in one sweeping gaze.

“What a fitting... hunting ground.”

He murmured softly. With a wide sweep of his sleeve, countless vast formations constructed themselves from thin air. Even before they activated, an alien aura spread out.

Then he slammed a palm into his own chest. A mouthful of blood spurted forth, automatically splitting into threads that seeped into the arrays.

Dodge’s aura weakened, yet his eyes shone brighter with excitement.

“Children, come forth.”

Arms spread wide, Rocky cried out fanatically.

“—Dinner is served!”

ROAR—!

Deafening howls shook the air.

Equally massive, equally grotesque creatures stepped out from the spaces his arrays had connected, the earth quaking underfoot.

Wyverns.

Mountain Trolls.

Giants.

Flame Beasts.

As the continent’s premier summoning magus, Dodge Slore naturally summoned nothing common from the Abyssal Sea. Each one of these creatures, if placed upon the continent, was a sovereign fit to rule its domain!

Thus, monster clashed with monster, and the slaughter began.

...

...

“It seems... the advantage is still ours?”

In the Throne Hall, many had yet to move.

Archbishop Canterbury Enger watched the battle of monsters with interest, smiling as he spoke.

There was nothing elegant in the clash of beasts. For giants of such size, ordinary magic was already meaningless; the only things that worked were tooth and claw against each other.

Yet they did not fight alone. With overwhelming firepower backing them, the monsters Dodge had summoned soon seized the upper hand, even pushing the battle line back.

“But...”

As he spoke, the Archbishop’s expression was the first to harden.

He stared into the depths of that black sea.

A vast shadow rose swiftly toward the surface.

That colossal body deepened the ocean itself with its presence.

There was no sea beyond Belrand.

When the Silent Moon constructed this shadow city, there had been no need to waste power creating a sea that did not exist.

If it had done so, there must be a reason.

And now, that reason surfaced.

A long, resonant cry rose from the depths, resounding through the heavens. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

It was—

A whale song!

A soul-shaking whale song!

The Calamity-class sea monster, the Sea Demon Leviathan, hidden all this time beneath the waters, had finally unleashed her first strike.

No—this could not even be called a strike.

It was nothing but her natural, overflowing pressure!

Canterbury frowned slightly, shaking off the soul-crushing influence. But when he refocused on the battlefield, he saw it had shifted instantly.

Under the dreadful pressure of a Calamity-class beast, half of Dodge’s summoned monsters instantly betrayed him!

No wonder Teacher Meladomir always called him shameful—summoning so many at once, he had ignored the fact that such numbers left the connection to each one fragile!

The situation flipped completely. In the sudden betrayal of his own creatures, the first line of defense—the steel bastion itself—was ripped open in several places.

Like a flood, enemies poured in, charging toward the second line, held by the Royal Knights’ elite, adventurers, mercenary companies, and even nobles.

If not for Professor Prang and several other strong defenders of the wall acting together to shield the majority, the casualties would already have been catastrophic.

“...Haa.”

Around the Round Table came more than one heavy sigh.

Several figures shot into the sky. Brilliant coronets blazed above their heads as they joined forces to strike at the terror of the sea that bore the title of “Calamity.”

An unprecedented battle began, dazzling light illuminating the shadow city like midday.

Archbishop Canterbury still lounged in his chair, unmoving.

But his hand was raised. Holy radiance spread like a breeze. Wherever it touched, wounds on soldiers closed halfway, and their fear was gently wiped away.

This alone had immense effect. Under the light, even pampered nobles did not break and flee. Instead, they hauled out relics so rare they startled even the Archbishop himself, driving back wave after wave of the enemy.

“Your Majesty, what a fine move.”

As the field steadied once more, even regaining advantage, Archbishop Canterbury sighed in admiration.

“Oh?”

Aldrich III, who had not so much as flicked an eyelid when Leviathan emerged, finally opened his eyes. “Why do you say so, Archbishop?”

“To unite all powers against the Evil God, while also dragging those nobles you long disdained into acting as human walls—once this is over, provided the Evil God fails, your prestige will stand at unprecedented heights. Those nobles not of your heart will be so weakened they will no longer hinder you.”

“And you dislike this?”

“From the Church’s standpoint, to see an empire rise beyond our interference is not a pleasant sight. Yet...”

Archbishop Canterbury smiled.

“For us, it may not be a bad thing either.”

“...Heh.”

Aldrich III gave only a derisive chuckle.

Suddenly, he rose from his throne. Hands clasped behind his back, he walked toward the wall that had been torn open, gazing down for the first time at the battlefield below.

“Hatherway.”

“Here.”

“What do the calculations say?”

“Something feels wrong...”

Hatherway Field, with her aides, scribbled frantically, her forehead slick with sweat.

“The Silent Moon’s actions this time... are strange.”

“How so?”

“No matter how I simulate, I cannot see any chance of victory for the Silent Moon!”

Her voice rose with agitation.

“Yes, if the goal is to forge a complete Divine Kingdom, populous Belrand is the perfect choice. But—

This is Belrand!”

The capital of the Leopold Empire, the most prosperous city on the continent, headquarters and branches of every major power lodged here. You could pull a dozen Crowned Magi from the street at a whim.

How could such a place be so easily taken?

And even if this shadow city were seized, within Saint Maria Academy still sat Meladomir.

She could not leave the Academy—but the last attack had already proved it: unless the Evil God itself stuffed its true body into this world, nothing could touch her.

She was like a nail hammered in place. As long as she remained, the Silent Moon could never fully turn Belrand into its Divine Kingdom!

“So this is very likely... a feint, to cover its true aim?”

“Exactly. But we cannot rule out that the Silent Moon truly has gone mad. It is, after all, an Evil God. Its will is unfathomable.” Hatherway pushed her gold-rimmed glasses up.

“I see.”

Aldrich’s fingers tapped on the hilt at his waist. He pondered, then suddenly turned, fixing his eyes on the drowsing old man slouched in a stone chair.

“Can I trust you?” Aldrich asked.

The elder opened clouded eyes, meeting the Emperor’s gaze.

Long silence. Then he answered:

“Of course, Your Majesty. You may always trust me.”

“Then the lives of Belrand’s millions—I entrust them to you.” Aldrich said coolly.

“Your Majesty overstates it.”

The old man bowed his head, lowering his eyes. His expression was hidden. “I merely do my duty. Nothing more.”

“Then go.”

“Yes.”

The elder’s form faded. Only then did the others realize—he had been but a residual shadow all along.

“To deceive even me... no wonder he is the {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} Swordbearer.” Archbishop Canterbury murmured.

“Archbishop.”

Once the elder was gone, Aldrich III spoke softly.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Just now, one thing you said was wrong.”

“Oh?”

“I had no thought of weakening the nobles. I called them here because they are part of Leopold, part of Belrand. They must give their share for this nation, for this city. As must you all.”

Aldrich III stepped forward.

And in that step, pressure burst forth from the man who had always sat half-asleep upon the throne. From his not-so-tall frame came crushing might.

“What—”

Archbishop Canterbury’s heart seized. He stared at Aldrich in shock.

Above the Emperor’s head, a radiant coronet gleamed, inscribed with supreme decrees, its majesty eclipsing any jewel-studded crown.

“Impossible... The curse of the royal line—how could you have broken it...”

He blurted in disbelief.

“I never cared whether the nobles shared my heart. To me, they are nothing but posturing clowns.”

Aldrich III paid no mind to the Archbishop’s disrespect. Step by step, he walked on.

With one hand, he tore away the cumbersome ceremonial robe, letting the wind fling it aside.

His hand reached down, grasping the sword at his waist.

And in that instant, the whole world fell silent. Not a sound remained.

Except—swordsong!

Ultimate majesty condensed in this moment. As the blade was drawn, even Archbishop Canterbury felt the urge to kneel.

The Sword of Kings.

The sacred heirloom of the Leopold royal line.

So long as it acknowledged you, even the weakest hand could wield power greater than an ordinary Crowned Magus.

And from its creation until now, this was the first time it had been wielded by a true Crowned.

Aldrich swung once.

The black sea split in two.

He did not even glance at the Calamity that had been forced to surface, a beast that took several Crowned Magi to contain. His eyes fixed only on the ghostly blue moon, revealed in full as the waters parted.

“Silent Moon.”

Aldrich’s voice was quiet—yet thunder rolled within it, deafening.

“As the price for trespassing upon my realm, leave behind this projection.”