Chapter 46: Capturing Shalltear
The [Pure Lance] dissolved in the night sky — breaking apart into countless scattered points of light, like fireflies over a summer river, burning briefly before vanishing entirely into the dark.
Shalltear still wanted to call another [Pure Lance].
But it was already too late.
Her consciousness had gone completely white. A blankness more thorough than death — as though something had reached in and pulled her thoughts out entire, leaving only an empty shell standing where she had been.
And then Shalltear knelt before the old woman wearing [Downfall of Castle and Country].
The motion was impossibly smooth. Not a trace of hesitation. As though she had been born to do exactly this.
The sound of her knees meeting the earth was quiet — but it landed like the final stroke of a ceremonial hammer, declaring that the Floor Guardian of Nazarick's first through third floors had, in this moment, become past tense.
"My lady."
Nothing in those eyes but reverence.
The gaze was devout and burning, nothing at all like the blood-mad True Ancestor of moments ago. She knelt with her silver hair spreading across the ground around her, like silk soaked in moonlight.
The battlefield went silent.
The man with black hair set down his spear. A complex light moved briefly through those sharp red-gem eyes.
The other Black Scripture members lowered their guard, though no one put their weapons away entirely.
The old woman Kairi stood where she was. The deeply lined face showed nothing.
The [Downfall of Castle and Country] on her body gave back a cold sheen in the moonlight, the five-clawed soaring dragon embroidered in gold thread appearing to shift and drift in the night wind.
Zetsumei drew back the hand that had blocked the [Pure Lance].
The pale yellow armor still carried traces of a holy attribute's fading glow — small points of light drifting slowly from the edges of the plates, flickering in the night wind like fireflies before going out.
"Why are you here?"
The Black Scripture captain's voice broke the silence.
He stepped forward twice, his gaze settling on Zetsumei. That androgynous face carried unmistakable puzzlement.
Zetsumei was the Theocracy's highest-level combat asset. She had no place in this operation — let alone as a sudden, unannounced intervention.
Zetsumei didn't answer directly.
She only tilted her head. Those mismatched eyes were particularly deep in the moonlight — the left eye pure white, the right eye jet black, two entirely different colors achieving a strange harmony on the same face.
"The [Dragon King Annihilation] mission has been cancelled."
Her voice kept that cool, unhurried tone, as though she were stating something of no particular importance. But those eyes stayed on Shalltear, kneeling on the ground, with a scrutinizing and quietly contemplative light in them.
The captain's brow shifted slightly.
"Cancelled?"
"The current mission is to bring her."
Zetsumei raised her chin toward where Shalltear was. The True Ancestor who had just sent an entire mercenary company fleeing in terror now knelt in the moonlight without a word, like a beautifully made doll with its soul removed.
"Bring her to the Theocracy's sacred ground."
Zetsumei finally moved her gaze from Shalltear to the captain. Those mismatched eyes carried nothing beyond a quiet, unshakeable certainty.
"These are the Supreme Pontiff's orders."
The words settled into the air like a stone into still water, stirring small ripples among the Black Scripture members. A few exchanged glances. A few tightened their grip on their weapons without thinking. But no one raised a voice in question.
The captain was quiet for a moment. The expression on that face moved through several states in succession — puzzlement, then consideration, then gradual understanding, then calm.
He gave a single nod. Clean and decisive, like someone executing a command that had been rehearsed a thousand times.
"In that case."
He turned to face the others, and his voice returned to the particular hardness that belonged to someone in command.
"All units. Prepare to withdraw."
The order was given, and everyone moved at once. Not a trace of hesitation from anyone. That drilled, instinctive response was the product of more real combat than could easily be counted.
The blue light of [Teleportation] magic began to kindle among the group.
Zetsumei stood at the edge of the light, and through the closing luminescence she looked outward — toward something in the distance.
Far from where the fighting had been.
Beside an unremarkable thicket, there lay a small fragment of armor, resting quietly among the fallen leaves and mud. It looked like something that had been blown there by the battle's residual force and simply come to rest.
This was a fragment of True Dragon King armor.
Five hundred years ago, in the great battle between the Eight Desire Kings and the True Dragon Kings, countless True Dragon Kings had fallen. This fragment was among the materials the Theocracy had collected from the ruins afterward. It had been stored in the deepest vault of the sacred ground, kept alongside the relics of the Six Great Gods, and shown to no one.
Until today.
Zetsumei looked toward the fragment's resting place. She could make a rough guess at what that little one had intended.
Only — looking at where it lay, a faint, uncertain thought drifted through her mind.
A fragment this small, placed this far from the battle site. Would the other party actually find it?
The blue light swallowed her.
The forest went quiet again.
What remained was only the aftermath of a battle — disturbed earth, broken branches, several patches burned black where holy power had touched the ground. The residue of magical energy lingered in the air like the faint dampness that follows rain, dispersing a little at a time.
A fragment of armor lay in silence beside the distant thicket.
Moonlight fell across its surface, and the faint sheen it held moved softly in the night — like a half-closed eye, waiting for a destined gaze.
---
The blue light faded, and the group appeared in the depths of the sacred ground.
The Supreme Pontiff had already been waiting. That deeply lined face visibly eased the moment it saw everyone return unharmed. His shoulders, held taut until now, settled slightly. The hand that had been clenched opened.
"You're back." His voice was quiet, but there was unmistakable relief behind it.
His gaze moved over each face in turn and settled at last on Shalltear where she knelt. It stayed there for a moment.
"Every detail of this mission is not to be mentioned to anyone." The Supreme Pontiff's tone became firm. "This is an absolute seal of secrecy — the highest level."
"Yes, sir." The Black Scripture members answered as one.
The group withdrew. Their footsteps grew fainter and then disappeared entirely.
The sacred ground was quiet again.
Shalltear knelt without speaking. Those red eyes were open, full of reverence, but carrying none of her own light.
Zetsumei had been assigned a new duty — to stand watch over Shalltear.
She sat down across from her and took out the Rubik's Cube. It turned between her long fingers with a faint, steady clicking.
The Rubik's Cube that was always impossibly difficult. Today, one face came together quickly.
The color of blood.
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