"I have never once overlooked you."
Nitocris withdrew her gaze from the wretchedly battered Sydonay, turning instead toward Bel Peol. Calmly, she said, "In my eyes, you and Hecate are far more important than Sydonay, whose only standout trait is his brute force."
After all, Nitocris's goal was to locate the God of Creation, the Snake of the Festival.
For that, she needed the strength of Hecate and Bel Peol. As for Sydonay—well, he hardly mattered.
At these words, Bel Peol fixed Nitocris with a deep, penetrating gaze before suddenly breaking into laughter.
"Hehe… Then I am truly honored." Bel Peol smiled gently, eyes glittering with shrewdness. "To think… that the great God of Humanity herself would hold me in such regard—I am overwhelmed."
"Hm… as expected, you noticed after all."
Nitocris's expression did not waver in the slightest; she seemed unsurprised.
"We, the Trinity, have always served the God of Creation. When it comes to the presence of a deity… there is no one who understands it better than us. I don't know how you concealed your divine aura so thoroughly, but… when you broke free of my Tartaros and blocked the General's blow—you still leaked a trace of it…"
Nitocris was extraordinarily skilled at masking her presence. Even when Yukari Hirai passed by Shana on the shopping street, Alastor, Flame of Heaven himself, had sensed nothing amiss—only detecting the presence of a god when Nitocris chose to appear.
Through this small detail, Bel Peol confirmed her opponent's divinity. As for why she recognized her specifically as the God of Humanity, and not a Crimson God—
"'For your selfish desires, you've taken countless lives and stripped away their right to exist…' Isn't that how you described us earlier?" Bel Peol smiled confidently. "Clearly, you are not on our side, but rather stand alongside the humans whom we prey upon. Unlike Tennjōkekkai, who protects humans merely to uphold the balance of the world, you are a god who belongs wholly to humanity, fighting exclusively for their sake… Isn't that right?"
Because their enemy was a god, even the combined strength of herself and Sydonay was insufficient.
Even if the god's true body could not manifest fully—even if only her consciousness and a fraction of her power resided in another—she remained divine.
Even if Sydonay was the strongest of Crimson Lords, even wielding a Treasure Tool bestowed by the God of Creation himself, he still wasn't a god.
Between them existed a gulf that simply could not be crossed.
Only another god could challenge a deity—like their leader, the Snake of the Festival.
"Since you already know my identity, then you should also know… conversation cannot persuade me, Strategist of Bal Masqué."
Invisible frost seeped silently into the air.
At first, it clung gently to skin like thin slices of ice, then swiftly pierced pores, flooding through veins and climbing the spine. Tiny flowers of frost bloomed between vertebrae; lungs seized by cold turned breath into stinging mist. The heartbeat slowed, as though imprisoned within icy blue amber.
Even the still-burning murky-purple flames provided no warmth. Only deepening darkness slowly spread within their bodies, freezing even their thoughts into soundless fragments.
"I have come here because among you, some are guilty."
"If Denizens devour humans simply to survive, according to the laws of this world, I have no right to judge—for survival itself is the greatest justice. But when Denizens devour humans out of sheer desire, that is a sin."
"The suffering humanity endures because of Denizens—I have witnessed it. Humans are broken by your wanton actions; the world itself is twisted by your deeds."
"The world's desperate cries summoned me here, pleading for me to judge your crimes."
She possessed the authority to judge them—Bel Peol clearly understood this.
Once, humans were nothing but food to Crimson Denizens, for humans lacked power and a god to defend them.
Even later, when the Flame Hazes appeared, Denizens never changed this view. Flame Hazes relied entirely upon the powers of Crimson Lords; without these contracts, humans were utterly powerless.
But if humanity gained a deity of their own—then everything changed.
With a god dedicated solely to humanity, humans ceased to be mere "food" without rights. They gained the right to vengeance, and the strength to enact it.
"So, is there anything else you wish to ask?"
Nitocris's eyes narrowed slightly, her voice cold. "I've allowed you to stall me according to your plans for this long already—isn't that enough?"
"…Ha, as expected, even such small tricks cannot deceive the eyes of a god?"
Bel Peol laughed bitterly at herself.
Although Sydonay's injuries were the gravest, his power to transform his body could still regenerate the lost parts of his arms and lower torso.
In Nitocris's hand, the steel spear Shintetsu Nyoi hummed continuously, like an enraged dragon bound in chains, struggling uselessly against her grip.
Yet, once Sydonay climbed from the crater, Nitocris expressionlessly released her hold, throwing the spear back to him. It spun through the air with a shrill whistle, caught firmly in Sydonay's grasp.
He spat out murky-purple flames and lifted his head, only to see Nitocris beckoning him forward.
"Come—attack again. Or is this already your limit?"
"Ah—!" Sydonay let out a dry, rasping growl squeezed from between clenched teeth, sounding like a broken bellows forced into operation.
"Until I take my Hecate back… I will never fall!"
"Exactly as it should be." Nitocris flourished her ruined grey blade gracefully, a glint of divine elegance naturally revealed. "Whatever you desire from me, you must take it yourself."
Her words sounded the horn resuming their battle.
Burning with murky-purple flames, Sydonay stepped forth heavily.
BOOM!
Immense power instantly shattered the ground beneath him, countless cracks spreading outward like monstrous spiderwebs, spewing forth torrents of violet flames devoured immediately by invisible winds.
A circular sonic boom erupted from the crater as Sydonay vanished from the fractured earth. His figure became violet lightning, splitting the air, charging relentlessly toward the monstrous enemy awaiting ahead.
Nitocris coldly watched Sydonay approach at blinding speed, making no movements. Yet suddenly, innumerable silhouettes emerged in his path.
Heavily armored skeletons, cloaked ghosts, metal-bodied revenants…
They stood before Sydonay, exuding a dense aura of death—viewed from above, resembling a dark and ominous ocean.
"OOOO…OOOAAAAARRRRR!! Get out of my way!!"
Sydonay roared furiously, plunging into the tidal wave of undead like a tiger into a flock of sheep.
Heavily armored skeletons were ground to dust by the storm unleashed by his swinging spear.
Cloaked ghosts evaporated instantly in the flames surging from his body.
Metal-bodied revenants had their skulls crushed in his grasp.
Millions of undead warriors failed to halt him. He swiftly broke through to Nitocris, bringing down Shintetsu Nyoi with mountain-splitting force.
BOOM!!
An earth-shattering blow capable of cleaving seas and splitting skies—yet unable to move the figure standing before him.
The ruined grey blade easily blocked Sydonay's strike, brimming with fury.
The moment spear and blade separated, both figures vanished simultaneously.
Then, high above—the dome of the sky erupted with its first explosive wail.
Not thunder, but the scream of space itself being torn apart.
Godlike meteors; collapsing flames.
The air torn to shards of glass, reflected lights splintered before they could even form.
Sound waves lagged hopelessly behind their silhouettes, rippling uselessly into delayed halos of white.
Every collision came quicker than sight itself.
Murky purple clashed violently with deathly grey between ruptures in the sky.
Never before had Sydonay experienced such desperate combat.
With Shintetsu Nyoi in hand, he could effortlessly destroy any enemy—the difference was merely whether he wished to or not.
Many had mistakenly thought they could match him—like that Flame Haze from China named Lu Xuan—but when Sydonay became serious, one blow was all it took.
Yet this opponent was different.
Thrusting, jabbing, sweeping, lifting, flicking, blocking, crushing, splitting, grazing—
Punches, palms, claws, elbows, kicks, strikes, rushes, headbutts, throws—
He had used every trick, every martial art buried deep within his memories, pushing himself beyond his limits—yet not one strike could cross that grey blade, leaving even a scratch upon his foe.
He surpassed himself time after time, yet paradoxically felt himself falling further and further behind.
His opponent was monstrous beyond reason, impossible to defeat even with everything he had.
And he had long since realized—from the beginning, she had adopted an almost purely defensive stance, her desire to attack or counter strikingly weak.
She was toying with him.
She was testing his limit.
Why? How could a god—noble and powerful by birth—possess such flawless, impeccable martial skills?!
This baffled Sydonay completely, for Crimson Gods—be it the Snake of the Festival or the Flame of Heaven, Alastor—had never needed technique. They simply unleashed their power and effortlessly crushed everything before them.
The Flame Hazes' greatest weapon, Tenpa Jōsai, was merely a casual strike by the Flame of Heaven summoned into the world—an attack that nothing could resist, feared even by the Snake of the Festival.
Just like in the world of No Game No Life:
The Flügels' strongest attack, "Heavenly Smite," equaled or surpassed world-destroying weapons created by dwarves and elves, yet it was simply equivalent to a casual strike by Artosh, God of War himself.
Techniques, martial skills—all existed solely to allow the weak to defeat the strong.
Melusine had said it herself: to beings born inherently powerful, martial arts were just burdens. A handgun could enable a child to defeat a boxing champion, yet to Saitama, a handgun made no difference.
In response to Sydonay's confusion, Nitocris faintly smiled.
"Upon this earth, nothing is impossible for me. All creation lies within the palm of my hand. If I lacked even this degree of martial prowess, how could I ever be considered perfect?"
"Moreover—why would you assume...that I have never fought as one of the weak?"
Was a god truly powerful?
Certainly—gods were powerful. Among humans and Denizens alike, Crimson Gods—such as the Snake of the Festival, the God of Guidance, or Alastor, Flame of Heaven—stood at the apex. Only another god could overcome or slay them.
Yet, within the Type-Moon universe, gods were undoubtedly mighty—but countless existences surpassed even them. Other gods, including pantheon leaders; ancient Dragonkin; cosmic-level entities; Outer Gods beyond the stars; ORT and other Ultimate Ones from distant worlds; or even True Magicians returning from the Root… and so much more.
Viewed from the infinite starry expanse, the notion of divinity's absolute strength seemed laughable.
Yet their conversation did not slow the battle in the slightest.
Spear-tips pierced like meteors chasing the moon.
Blades slashed downward like rainbows cutting through the sun.
Their spear and sword collided, splashing forth not sparks, but liquified, compressed light.
Droplets fell, leaving burned black stains eroding the sky.
Those within Seireiden stared upward, their pupils flooded with constantly refreshing afterimages.
Before the previous image could fade, the next layered itself atop it.
Their eyes scorched, tiny holes drilled into them—as if even "seeing" itself was being denied by this battle of godlike speed.
Bel Peol did not join the battle in the skies, busying herself instead with wiping out the undead armies encircling them below.
She was merely a strategist, lacking the overwhelming combat prowess of General Sydonay. Indeed, with the God of Guidance detached, the God of Creation sealed away, and Alastor's power limited solely to his contractor, Sydonay was effectively invincible. With him around, supplementary power should never have been necessary.
Yet, no matter how carefully they planned, no calculation could ever account for a sudden appearance of the Pillar of the Present World—especially at such a critical juncture.
Most critically, their key to welcoming back the Snake—the Supreme Priestess, Hecate—had fallen into enemy hands from the very start.
Without Hecate, all their plans were meaningless.
Suddenly, from above Bel Peol's head, a torrential rain poured—but upon closer inspection, it wasn't rain at all, but countless uniform black cubes falling heavily.
"Lady Strategist!"
"Tempest Hoof" Fecor rushed to her side, panic evident on his face. Those raining black cubes were his Unrestricted Spell, Magnesia. Each cube was extraordinarily hard, freely manipulated by Fecor for offense or defense.
"Lady Strategist! Are you unharmed? I'll take you away from here immediately!"
Fecor was Bel Peol's lieutenant. To him, Bel Peol's importance far exceeded Sydonay's. In fact, most within Bal Masqué shared Fecor's sentiment, as Bel Peol had long earned the respect of Denizens for her flawless strategic foresight.
In their eyes, so long as Bel Peol lived, minor defeats meant nothing—she could always lead them to reclaim their losses.
In other words, as long as Bel Peol remained, Bal Masqué would never fall.
Yet Bel Peol simply shook her head with a bitter smile.
"No, Fecor… there's no escaping for me."
Fecor's pupils constricted sharply.
"What… what are you saying, Lady Strategist?"
"The General cannot defeat her. She hasn't even begun fighting seriously. Throughout the entire battle, she has kept most of her attention fixed on me," Bel Peol said bitterly, smiling faintly. "Her targets are Hecate and myself—therefore, there's nowhere for me to run."
She turned, deeply looking at Fecor, whose face had gone deathly pale, struggling to accept reality, and gently continued:
"Unlike us, Fecor, you're not even qualified to enter her sight. You, the others, and even the General… You all still have a chance."
Thinking of this, the bitterness in Bel Peol's smile intensified.
She had never imagined a day would come when she would actually feel grateful that their enemy had never truly taken them seriously.
Though Crimson Denizens freely lorded over humanity, in the eyes of the gods, they were fundamentally no different from the humans they bullied, robbed, and mocked.