Because I Am Surtr

The fate that inevitably awaited infected factions... The weaker they were, the more easily they earned goodwill, because ordinary people possessed compassion. Yet the stronger they grew, the more that goodwill silently drifted away, because compassion could not protect one's immediate interests... Rhodes Island had finally reached the point where it would come into contact with malice.

"So you intend to die here." Miss Surtr merely snorted. "Chernobog is about to fall under the Reunion Movement's control, and a scout team cannot accomplish much... I heard W has joined Reunion as well, and her current situation is far from ideal. So... you and your team intend to strike a deal with her, with blood as the price?"

"She clears the way, you kill her superior. The other teams seize the chance to rescue the Doctor, and then she takes your heads back to prove her own worth?"

Silence.

Her words received no response.

Yet silence itself was an answer.

"Give it up." Miss Surtr shook her head slightly. "You should know my other identity. And I have decided to bury the Reunion Movement here."

Scout and his team were horrified.

Settling Part of It

Scout left with his men.

That was only natural. Scout clearly knew of some of Miss Surtr's former "great accomplishments." Even if he could not guess—or confirm—that Miss Surtr possessed the identities of the Ember Demon and the Hunter King, he at least knew everything there was to know about the Fire Giant King among Bounty Hunters.

The Fire Giant King, the queen of mercenaries. Her mission completion rate was not one hundred percent, but prey she set her sights on had never survived to see the morning of the second day of their contract—supposedly, after accepting her first commission, she had abandoned it on the spot to eliminate the perfectionist weakness of a one-hundred-percent success rate. After that, she became active in the most dangerous hidden realms and the fiercest battlefields.

She had once fought an army alone. She had once made Higashi's Sword Saint bow in submission through swordsmanship alone. She had once slaughtered an entire fortress while the ordinary residents on the other side of the wall noticed nothing unusual. She had even once fought against a mountain collapse with her own strength, cleaving apart the rushing mudslide and saving a village in peril.

Many people owed her favors.

Even more owed her their lives.

She was a legend among mercenaries. If she had been willing to lower herself and join some faction, even the royal families of every nation would likely have offered her olive branches and purple robes symbolizing nobility. And if she had wanted to establish a force of her own, a mercenary organization, those who answered her call would inevitably have been elite soldiers and exceptional warriors.

Scout did not doubt in the slightest that, if Surtr were willing to build a force, it would not have been too difficult for it to match the former Sarkaz Babel Tower in scale. And precisely because of that, when she said she intended to bury the Reunion Movement here, Scout believed her without hesitation.

Because she truly could do it.

And because he had ample proof that she could.

So he left, without hesitation or delay. Several old members from the Sarkaz Babel Tower era in his team had wanted to catch up with Miss Surtr, but he firmly refused them—because he knew Surtr was not someone who liked wasting time, and since the plan had changed, this elite unit clearly had a new purpose to serve.

He and his team vanished into the far end of the wilderness.

They had arrived lightly equipped and departed at ease. Before leaving, he left behind a communication phone.

Surtr knew what the phone was for—after Scout's team withdrew, she dialed it without hesitation. After several seconds of static, a familiar voice spoke from the other side.

"This is Kal'tsit. Have you encountered some trouble?" The mature woman on the other end had a cold voice, yet Surtr could detect the exhaustion and hesitation concealed within it.

"This is Surtr," she answered flatly.

A sound of something falling came from the other end, as though some scattered items had dropped to the floor.

For an instant, Kal'tsit's breathing seemed to quicken slightly. But very soon, her voice returned to its steady, normal state.

"Do you intend to get involved?" Kal'tsit did not ask about Scout and the others, because she knew how Surtr would treat them. "What do you intend to do to Chernobog?"

"I intend to bury the Reunion Movement here." Surtr's voice remained calm as she looked toward the distant sky, where clouds of dust were rising outside Chernobog. "The burden of Chernobog's destruction should not be borne by the flag-bearers among the infected. So I will crush them before they take control of the city. Beyond that, I have also introduced some capable personnel to Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals. They will become operators capable of standing on their own in a very short time."

She did not say who they were, but both sides knew exactly who she meant.

"...You want Rhodes Island to become the next Reunion Movement?"

"I am preventing Rhodes Island from becoming the next Reunion Movement."

The communication fell silent for a moment. Two seconds later, a slightly probing voice came through the receiver.

"You... intend to open the Sarcophagus?"

"I do intend to pay a visit to an old friend who refuses to lie still in her grave." What Miss Surtr actually meant was that old venomous snake inhabiting Talulah, which should have been dead long ago. Climbing out of the coffin was truly unsightly, so she had decided to give the old lady a proper funeral and bury her thoroughly once again.

However, Rhodes Island's decision-maker seemed to have another opinion.

"...Don't kill Persephone. Rhodes Island needs her brain."

"Then can I just bring her brain back? It can keep PRTS company."

"You are wasting a great many people's efforts, Surtr."

"You feel sorry for her?" Sorry for that monster who viewed all living beings as ants?

"...Amiya would be sad. She does not want to see any of you get hurt, much less see you and Persephone turn your blades against each other. Besides, she has already gone to Chernobog herself."

"Then I'll do Amiya this favor. And... revise your operation list. Once I start moving, I may not be able to hold back. It would be truly unfortunate if someone died in the aftermath of my attacks."

"I will inform Amiya."

Very well. For Amiya's sake, that trashy Doctor would not die in the aftermath of Twilight—though Surtr had never intended to do anything to that trashy Doctor in the first place. Still, she was indeed a little displeased.

Stinking lynx, as long as something is useful to you, you don't care what happens to it, do you? Just wait until I get dirt on you someday—I'll pound you until you cry!

"You really are exactly the same as before, Kal'tsit."

The master of verbal sparring snorted and prepared to hang up.

However...

"...After this operation, do you intend to come back? Your room has always been kept on Rhodes Island's main vessel." Kal'tsit's voice carried obvious conflict and hesitation. "...Amiya misses you too."

"Only Amiya?"

"Isn't Amiya enough?"

Surtr shifted her gaze slightly. At the edge of her vision, something intriguing enough to draw her interest had caught her scrutinizing eye.

"Indeed, she isn't. But I'll come back," she said flatly, ignoring the suddenly quickened breathing and heartbeat on the other end of the communicator.

"And, Kal'tsit. Did you once have a colleague named Ilya?"

Several seconds later, aboard Rhodes Island's main ship, inside a confidential office.

A certain big green-haired cat set down the communications terminal in her hand—her hand seemed somewhat unsteady. It took her two tries before she managed to place the half-brick-sized device properly into its dock.

"Surtr..."

Her head hurt. Hurt badly enough that she needed to sink into deep thought.