Because I Am Surtr

"Some things needed to be cleaned up, some traces needed to be erased... And those things in my room..." she murmured, a conflicted look appearing on her face. "No. She cannot be allowed to find out about them."

"Mon3tr," she called softly.

Amid the chirping of insects, a massive green form silently manifested behind her.

"Go. Tear apart everything in my room... everything that can be dismantled, until it is beyond recognition and cannot be restored. Then arrange a fire... Before that, make sure there are no uninvolved people nearby."

The green insectoid shadow slightly raised its forelimbs, then slipped into the curtain of shadows amid a whisper.

Everything fell silent.

In the darkness, only a whisper overflowing with complicated emotion remained.

"Surtr... you..."

"Why... have you never been willing to look at your side?"

Section 12 · Junjun! No--!

--"Do you believe justice will triumph over evil in this world?"

"I don't."

--"Do you believe that effort will be rewarded?"

"I don't."

--"Do you believe tomorrow will become better?"

"I don't."

--"Arrogant, stubborn, dissatisfied with the status quo, distrustful of reality... You truly are a born fool."

"Say whatever you want."

--"Very well. Then draw me, and bring upheaval and change to this world with flame. Create a world where you can believe in something."

--"Or destroy everything you refuse to accept."

"My fate is in my own hands, Laevateinn. I do not need anyone else to show me the way forward."

--"As you wish. I have all the time in the world to wait. But have you truly ever trusted anyone in this world, Surtr? You lonely Otherworlder—you have forgotten your true name, yet you have never been able to let go of your past."

"I will, someday."

--"Then we shall see."

Ludmila gently exhaled. In the chill of late autumn, her breath coated the air around her with a thin layer of white frost.

She was one of the Reunion Movement's officers, directly subordinate to their leader Talulah, and commanded the elite Ghost infiltration force. She was Reunion's eyes and ears, Reunion's sharp blade. Within the Reunion Movement, she was known as Crownslayer.

Crownslayer... one who slew kings.

In truth, in this day and age, any assassin who gave themselves such a title—or one like it—held some degree of reverence in their heart for that flame standing at the pinnacle of the world's dark side: the Ember Demon, the Hunter King. Those better informed might even know names such as "Twilight," "World-wandering Hunt," and "Great Calamity." Yet all these terrifying names referred to one and the same being—the Fire of Slaughter, who had slain kings twice, with countless powerful foes dying by her hand.

In the past, people feared the Sarkaz primarily because of their ancient custom of coexisting with Originium.

Now, people still feared the Sarkaz, but at least half that fear stemmed from dread of the one who brought twilight—no one knew whether another Ember Demon might emerge from among the Sarkaz. No one knew where the next Ember Demon would lead this world.

And so mortals feared.

Yet within that fear was the weak's innate longing for the strong. Especially for a loner bent on revenge—when she swore loyalty to her current leader, was it not because she had seen the shadow of that calamity in her leader?

--Miss Crownslayer tugged at her mask, exposing her nostrils to the air. A Lupo's sense of smell was sharper than that of many races, and even through a face covering, she could clearly perceive the land. But for Ludmila, who specialized in stealth and assassination, any interference that might affect her combat ability had to be eliminated.

Because she had lofty ambitions. Because her great vengeance remained unfulfilled.

She lightly twitched her small nose, while the pair of wolf ears beneath her hood gave a faint tremble.

"The scouts told me Frostnova and her squad ran into some unexpected trouble here... but I can't smell any blood in the air."

"Was the intelligence wrong? No... Frostnova's squad really did lose contact. And she and her subordinates did indeed linger in this area for some time."

She caught the scent of frost in the air, a trace she knew well—the residue left behind when ice-based Originium Arts were used. Judging by its density, there had been a high-frequency burst of Originium Arts around dusk last night. And the main direction of that burst was...

"...Over there."

She drew in a faint breath. Among the complex components carried in the air seemed to lurk some deeply troubling message, but she could not yet make out what it was. At the same time, her heartbeat inexplicably quickened a little. As though an electric current had touched her spine, an alien chill filled her heart.

Something was wrong.

Something terrible was brewing.

And misfortune and disaster might soon crash down like a tide--

"...That direction?"

With a light breath, her figure vanished into the silently rising dust. She was good at this sort of thing, and she was confident she could escape before danger arrived.

--Frostnova and the others must have run into trouble... At the very least, I need to find out who attacked her—who attacked us.

--Damn it... The plan to capture Chernobog is clearly imminent, yet something like this happened at such a crucial moment!

--Who is targeting the Reunion Movement?

From mountains to hills, from wastelands to shattered earth, she advanced amid layer upon layer of sparse mist silently spreading outward through Originium Arts. Fog that was too thick would draw attention instead, while this thin mist—transparent at a glance yet still slightly obstructive to one's sight—was perfect for concealing her trail.

She continued forward, moving from shattered streets strewn with rubble to the ruins of collapsed high-rises. All the way, her steps remained light and steady. She left not the slightest footprint on the ground, and not a trace of her scent leaked out.

She silently appeared at the place where the Yeti Squadron had once made camp. There, she saw a camp that had been hastily set up halfway before being dismantled again. A strange sense of unease surfaced in her mind; she felt there was something off about the arrangement.

...No smell of blood. But the Originium Arts had been unleashed with extreme force and haste. Frostnova should have been standing right here. Then some kind of accident suddenly occurred...

She quietly landed beside the spot Frostnova had stood on and followed the direction of Frostnova's gaze. Not far away, she saw a distinct trace of elemental reaction—ice and fire had collided less than ten meters beyond the camp. There were also many scattered footprints from Yeti Squadron members nearby, and the ice had easily extinguished the fire.

Was it an attack by a fire-wielding caster...? But how could flames of this level make someone as composed as Frostnova so agitated that she even included her own allies in the attack range? Those were her brothers and sisters. She shouldn't have done that... What did she see at that moment?

Ludmila was puzzled.

Clearly, Frostnova and her squad had encountered an attack from a fire caster while setting up camp. What followed was a clash of Originium Arts between both sides... No one had been injured, yet the Yeti Squadron had abandoned the camp in a panic. There were only a few possibilities that could explain this.

The frontal fire assault was merely a superficial lure. The opponent's true target was Frostnova, and Frostnova alone. It attacked from the other side and kidnapped Frostnova, leaving the Yeti Squadron with no choice but to abandon their current camp and pursue the attacker with all their strength.

Such a simple scheme. Frostnova couldn't possibly have fallen for it.