🌐 Language / 言語
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“Regardless of our history, a frontal assault is suicide.”
“We are the ones who decide what is suicide.”
They were in a chamber within the High Sanctum, a room usually reserved for the highest echelons of war councils. Despite the predawn hour, several men and women had gathered, their faces etched with the fatigue of a world coming apart. Two figures sat at opposite ends of a cold marble table.
“Elzenag is not like the other Beast-Devils. It exists on a separate plane of lethality. We cannot engage it without a calculated strategy,” a low voice resonated through the room.
High Arbiter Dimeus had summoned the Holy Maidens the very morning after hearing the harrowing report from Amnez’s team, who had recently returned to the capital, Ucto. The resurrection of the Calamity Elzenag. The clash with Gilzenth. And finally, the Synthesis—the unthinkable merger of the Saint Empress and the Great Dragon.
Dimeus had struggled to believe his own ears. A monster from the dawn of myth had fused with the head of their state. Even if the creature remained in a death-like slumber for now, there was no telling when those burning eyes would reopen.
“If there is an enemy, we crush it. Schemes are for the weak,” the Holy Maiden with short, silver hair declared, reclining deep into a chaise with her legs crossed in a posture of utter boredom.
Uzeltes did not trade in complexities. To her, a threat was merely something to be struck and erased from existence. Her two massive, Maul-type Blitz units—twin blocks of engine-driven steel—had spent years turning that philosophy into a bloody reality.
Even the loss of two fellow maidens brought her no sentimentality. If the Saint Empress had merged with a Beast-Devil, then to Uzeltes, she was nothing more than a target.
“Even against a dragon with an impenetrable hide, your mauls might find purchase,” Dimeus conceded. “But this time, the scale of the adversary is simply too great.”
“Then what is your plan? Shall we sit here and watch as the world burns?” Uzeltes rose from her seat. If Elzenag were to awaken now, the Republic of Varney would be reduced to a scorched graveyard in hours.
“I will petition the Gaylud Maritime Fortress for aid,” Dimeus stated. “If we can gather the Holy Maidens from all three nations—those specialized in purging Great Beasts—we may yet have a chance.”
The Gaylud Maritime Fortress stood as the crown jewel of the defense perimeter Dimeus had established, a bastion where veteran maidens from across the continent were stationed.
“Even with an emergency summons, it will take two full days for reinforcements to arrive,” noted Ize, a veteran Holy Maiden who had been observing the exchange in silence. “We cannot guarantee the beast will remain dreaming until then.”
Furthermore, calling for aid would incur a massive political debt to the nations of Regalia and Ezaris. Yet, they were beyond the point of worrying about pride.
“Do we have even a shred of a chance with our forces alone?” Dimeus asked, looking toward Ize. As the swordsmanship mentor to nearly every melee-focused maiden in the Republic, Ize understood their combat potential better than anyone.
“I cannot say. Our only option is to dispatch a vanguard to act as both scouts and a line of containment. You must handle the petition, High Arbiter,” Ize replied.
The mission would be an act of supreme peril.
“Then the talking is over. Who else is coming?” Uzeltes gestured with her mind, and her Maul-type Blitz units drifted off the wall like feathers, despite being tons of solid metal.
“I am,” Amnez stepped forward. Though her wounds from the Celestial Beast were still fresh, her stride was unwavering.
“Foolish girl. Stay and rest,” Ize commanded.
“The death of the Celestial Beast was the catalyst for Elzenag’s return. ‘I didn’t know’ is not an excuse I can live with. I will see this through with my own hands,” Amnez retorted.
Even the words of her master could not reach her now. Ize knew that once Amnez set her mind to a path, she would walk it until her legs gave out.
“I don’t care who follows,” Uzeltes said, the click of her boots echoing as she walked toward the door. “Just don’t get in my way.”
As the veteran maiden left, there was a faint, disturbing hint of exhilaration in her posture—the look of a warrior who finally had a mountain worth shattering.
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