One hundred and thirty-seven kilometers away.
In Kyoto Prefecture, at the direction opposite from "Sōya District."
The rumbling "thunder" exploded across the heavens, illuminating layers of radiant brilliance that lit up the continuous ridges of mountains, and faintly even further in the distance revealed what the people of Yamato regarded as the divine mountain, Mount Fuji—the place where in bygone days the "Peacock Lord" had made his final seclusion.
And beneath that peak, beyond the endless mountains, at the foot of the mountain—there suddenly flashed dazzling silver light, which in an instant transformed into a rushing jet of pitch-black cold radiance. That light tearing apart the veil of night seemed, in that very instant, to gather and constrict, hiding itself within darkness.
A golden-haired girl lightly tapped the treetops with the tips of her toes. Moonlight condensed in her golden eyes, solidifying into murderous intent.
The jet of black radiance, upon touching within ten feet around her body, was instantly crushed into dust by an invisible force field.
"Church's little dog, this time you've brought a new toy, haven't you?"
Rainbow-colored light wound around the girl's fingertips.
That was the origin of the Dead Apostles, the inherent authority of the highest of the True Ancestors, royalty of the "Moon"—
Its name was "Marble Phantasm."
A mystery of the highest order, resembling yet different from a Reality Marble. If a Reality Marble is the result of polishing one's inner world over the course of endless time, condensing it into a "world egg" inside oneself, then expanding it outward by means of prana in order to oppose the world, temporarily overwriting the surrounding environment—
Then Marble Phantasm is the reverse. By connecting to the world itself, it gains support from the world, then alters the existing environment, changing the state of the world to fit one's thoughts and will—a still higher authority.
The existence of a Reality Marble, rare though it is, still belongs to "miracle-class sorcery" driven by the logic of cognition, and can, with effort, be achieved by humans.
But the miracle of Marble Phantasm is something humanity could never wield.
It is a technique only possible for pure elementals, natural extensions closely tied to the world.
It is also, at this moment, the mystery being invoked by the girl.
And it is the very proof of her identity.
The "True Ancestors"—beings that themselves are extensions of nature, existences exceedingly close to elementals—one could even say they are "bloodsucking elementals"!
Boom!
And then—
Environment altered. The world seemed replaced. The invisible field expanded outward from the girl's side, suddenly bursting forth—like gravity reversing, like heaven and earth being overturned.
Thus—
The source of that black radiance, the figure standing tens of steps away upon the treetop, halted her advance at once.
A short-haired girl as well, though her hair was azure blue. She took a deep breath, her athletic figure taut beneath sleeveless inner wear, short skirt, and long boots, the outline of muscle faintly visible beneath. Staring up at the golden-haired girl standing aloft, she could not help but click her tongue, thinking that indeed, as expected of the "Princess of the Moon"—her Black Keys, designed specifically to suppress vampiric beings and infused with the principle of returning the dead to life, could not even draw near.
Let alone unfold her Black Key-crafted prison, the "Coffin of Dusk."
Feeling the crushing pressure tearing across ten meters in an instant, she swiftly leapt back—
All of a sudden, her grip tightened on the massive, bizarre armament already held in her hands—the "new toy," as her opponent had called it.
In the next second—
That bizarre weapon erupted with rainbow light, as if wrapped in ancient burial shrouds. With the blue-haired girl's retreat, its horn-like tip spun and suddenly thrust into the field of reversed force, exploding into a thunderous shatter—the twisted field collapsed like a receding tide, fragments of burial shrouds scattering in the moonlight, intertwined with powder-like cracks in space.
"Even the princess of the Dead Apostles cares about weapons forged by humans?" Slightly out of breath, the girl steadied herself, gazing up at the figure above.
"A Church scripture forged with the concept of 'denial of resurrection'... indeed, an amusing toy."
"Especially in the hands of you, little dog of the Church—"
"To even briefly rend my Marble Phantasm?"
"Ciel of the Burial Agency, the 'Bow'!"
"Hah. To receive the praise of a True Ancestor princess—should I feel honored?" Ciel's red lips curved, but only into mockery. As a member of the Burial Agency, part of the Church's special execution squad after the reorganization of the secret order, she and the "Princess of the True Ancestors" before her were hardly strangers. But this was the first time she had brought forth the weapon newly bestowed upon her by the Church, a miraculous armament that only she could wield.
Its name: the "Seventh Holy Scripture." A weapon specially forged by the Church to deal with the Dead—or rather, the Undead. Of course, its original form did not possess such destructive power. Only after passing into Ciel's hands was it modified with the magecraft knowledge lingering in her mind from Roa.
This time, it was entrusted to her specifically for her mission in the Far East—to bury once and for all the "Serpent of Akasha."
Unexpectedly, before she found the Serpent of Akasha—she first stumbled upon another, even higher-grade Undead.
Arcueid Brunestud.
Deceived by Roa's false contract, forced to drink blood, and eight hundred years ago, having slaughtered the True Ancestors in their Thousand-Year Castle lair—the highest-ranked existence among the True Ancestors.
Alongside the ever-active mixed-blood of Dead Apostles and True Ancestors—the "Black Princess," Altrouge Brunestud—she was equally famed, even faintly surpassing her. The "White Princess."
Another princess of the Moon!
But though unexpected, as a member of the Burial Agency, Ciel of course did not hesitate to strike.
And though unforeseen, Arcueid Brunestud's counterattack was equally swift and decisive.
"Toys are meant to be played with, after all!"
Her short golden hair scattered like starlight in the night. Standing upon the treetop, her knee-length skirt swayed slightly, her slender figure clad in a plain white sweater. As she lifted her hands slowly, behind her, the round moon in the heavens cast down its light—and seemed, to the naked eye, to be growing ever larger.
Her golden eyes shone with prismatic brilliance. The overwhelming authority of a supreme Mystic Eye pressed down, making Ciel's body tense all the more.
——The authority called "Marble Phantasm" was being pushed to its utmost.
It was as if the entire sky, along with the full moon itself, was slowly descending!
The immense pressure forced Ciel's expression taut. The "Seventh Holy Scripture" in her hands rose high, the magical energy gathered within it—meant to be used against Roa—swelling, ready to be unleashed—
"How lively."
At that moment of blades drawn and bows bent—
A voice, a figure, arrived.
That voice—
"Your Eminence—!?"
Ciel froze mid-motion, looking over in joy.
Arcueid Brunestud, too, turned to look at the tall, slender young man walking out from the forest shadows—and even she was briefly taken aback.
"My, my... junior. It's been a while."
Nor was he alone.
There was also a voluptuous woman, her figure impossible to hide beneath her nun's garb, long flowing black hair cascading in waves.
"Kiara-senpai—"
Kiara Sessyoin.
And.
Lucan Lovecraft Tuval.
Or rather, "Sugawara Lucan."
And "Lucan Equinus."
——Though not the other protagonist of that thousand-year covenant he longed to fulfill, the Black Princess.
But her sister in name.
Yet since he had "seen," naturally Lucan came to look as well.
To see the other Princess of the Moon, also on the list of True Ancestor progenitors to be destroyed by the divine era alliance of Dead Apostles.
This White Princess—Arcueid Brunestud, who had slaughtered all True Ancestors of the Thousand-Year Castle—was, indeed, one Lucan could hardly ignore.
And her arrival, her presence, was by no means coincidence.