All Mortals Must Die

"A meaningless thing."

On the second floor of the Control Tower, twenty-two sets of swords and shields cracked apart. Iron turned into scorching liquid, while gel and machinery melted into indistinguishable living matter. Even the most agile swordsmen could only approach within five meters of Surtr before collapsing in the halo-like fiery breath.

"You're wasting your lives for nothing."

On the third floor of the Control Tower, the bowstrings of seven archery masters snapped. All one hundred and seventy-seven arrows struck their targets, yet not one of them had any effect. Whether they were pure-metal armor-piercing arrows, composite-mechanical explosive arrows, Originium energy arrows, or forbidden curse arrows—not one missed, and not one took effect. Even the best result was merely losing momentum three meters from the visitor's body before disintegrating into ash.

"Using them to challenge a calamity you cannot resist."

On the fourth floor of the Control Tower, the combined spellcasting of eleven senior casters reached within two meters of the visiting Flame-haired Woman's body. Frost, iron, radiation, curses, molten rock—various elemental forces were methodically combined into a sublime symphony worthy of being called a work of art. They had exhausted every ounce of their strength and used everything they had, only to return empty-handed.

The visitor stepped over the exhausted casters as though stepping over a patch of useless weeds.

"I can sense the fear, unease, and hesitation in your hearts."

On the fifth floor, a group of highly coordinated Sarkaz mercenaries awaited the visitor. They belonged neither to W nor to Theresis. Their minds were in perfect accord, and they were rich in experience. They wielded bows and crossbows, explosives, poison gas, sonic weapons—every weapon and tactic an ordinary person could imagine, each more than enough to easily annihilate a small elite unit. And then—

—returned empty-handed.

They fought until the very last moment, yet they could not delay the visitor by even a single step.

"If you flee, I won't stop you."

On the sixth floor, a Curse Master from Lateran and a Veteran Knight from Kazimierz joined forces to attack from both sides. Their arts were profound enough to make the clouds in the sky resound. Their swordsmanship was exquisite enough to cut apart the boundary between light and shadow. Their offense and defense complemented each other, and they gave it everything they had. They could certainly have accomplished their goal even if it had been assassinating a warlord in his carriage. Yet in the end—

—their greatest achievement was merely allowing a spell-infused blade to touch the fiery breath barrier one meter from the visitor's body.

Then it melted.

The staff broke, and the sword snapped.

"But you still chose stupidity. You chose to bring about your own destruction."

On the seventh floor, four hundred well-trained soldiers stood ready in their positions. Hounds, high-energy Originium Infected creatures, casters, shield guards, crossbowmen, mortars, drones, heavily armored assault units, and elite officers—they were an army with no weaknesses or openings. They also had a battlefield position that allowed them to display their full combat strength. Like a tide, they surged toward the visitor head-on. Like waves crashing against a reef, they shattered into sprays of foam.

They had failed.

The visitor did not retreat a single step or pause for even an instant. The fiery breath outside her body shattered, but another layer of shielding formed against her skin, so sturdy that it was practically the embodiment of despair itself.

Thus, the four-hundred-man army fell utterly silent.

The visitor then ascended to the eighth floor of the Control Tower.

The eighth floor was spacious, tidy, and quiet enough.

The white-haired Dragon Girl was waiting for her at the central platform atop the tower.

The visitor slightly raised her head and gazed at the white-haired Dragon Girl before her. In the visitor's eyes, the layers of Twilight clouds behind the Dragon Girl roiled violently.

—Lightning fell.

Amid the explosive roar of thunder, the visitor raised a hand and lightly pressed her fingertips against Laevateinn, which floated beside her. The red-and-black greatsword immediately ignited with blazing flames. Her eyes remained fixed on the one waiting before her.

Waiting for the final words the white-haired Dragon Girl wished to speak.

"Sixteen greatsword wielders from the Ursus army. Every one of them possessed the honorable achievement of capturing a position single-handedly."

The Dragon Girl rose from the high platform, wind spiraling around her.

"Twenty-two swordsmen with shields. They came from a disbanded Ursus military unit. Before retiring, they had defended their army's banner in a position besieged by enemies from ten directions. After thirteen hours of bloody battle, they had stood unfallen alongside the banner as its final survivors."

Red light shimmered across her sword, and her will spread with the dispersing heat.

"Seven archery masters from every corner of Terra. Among them were Sargon hunters who could hunt colossal beasts alone. There were Kazimierz foresters who had once become ghosts of the battlefield. There were elite marksmen from the Ursus army. There were veteran wanderers from Higashi. I would never dare claim that I could retreat unscathed from their coordination. Every one of them carried a weighty honor."

The tips of her hair fluttered, while tangible flames formed an invisible armor around her.

"Eleven casters. One-third of them had received my instruction. Some were once nameless Infected, while others were exiles from city-states. Some had once been renowned scholar-wanderers. To construct that combined spell, they spent thirteen long months."

Her footsteps were firm, and every step made the entire tower tremble softly.

"Forty-one Sarkaz mercenaries. They had lived through Kazdel's civil war. They had once fought against Sarkaz Babel Tower and the 'Fire Giant King,' who had once belonged to Sarkaz Babel Tower, and survived. To wipe away their former humiliation, they trained themselves in the most extreme ways for three years and seven months. Every one of their tactics was designed to counter the portion of power the 'Fire Giant King' had once displayed. Their resolve could not be melted even by lava."

Her gaze was focused, with only that Flame-haired Woman in her eyes.

"Silent Iron, Cloudflow, retired campaign knights. Sibyl and Saimonsk, Curse Masters who once held positions in Lateran's tower and had even followed the Twin Empresses. They had never lost when fighting together. Even Bodegard had needed FrostNova's assistance merely to draw even with their combination. And they knew what Twilight was, remaining prepared at all times to take part in what might be the final battle of their lives."

Then she slowly raised the longsword in her hand. Its tip pointed firmly and unwaveringly toward the visitor.

"Finally, my four hundred guards. I brought them out one by one from the slums, the dungeons, the mines, and the gallows. After asking for their consent, I shared my oath and blood with them. I taught them everything I had learned and comprehended. And after understanding my thoughts and ideals, they were still willing to accompany me this far."

She had said everything she needed to say.

"So that's everything you wanted to say?" Her visitor merely maintained her usual expression—seemingly serious, yet utterly unconcerned in truth—as she watched her on this battlefield. "They were serious. They worked hard. They followed the wrong person. They did the wrong thing. And then what?"

The Dragon Girl's gaze lowered slightly.

"Five hundred and one people. Every one of them knew my ideals. They knew why I came here, why I attacked this city, why I stationed myself in this tower, and why I waited here—they knew I was waiting for you. They knew exactly how much power you possessed and what fate inevitably awaited those who opposed you. Yet in your eyes, they were no more than blades of grass."

"If you had not led the Reunion Movement here and committed such an atrocity, this battle would never have had any reason to break out in the first place." Her visitor answered without the slightest hesitation.

"But you chose to do this anyway... Why?"

"My purpose?" The white-haired Dragon Girl shook her head slightly. "My purpose is very simple."

"I merely wanted to tell you how much thought and effort I devoted to the Reunion Movement. How much time, energy, and passion I spent. And now I'm leading them toward destruction, like a swarm of ants walking into a fire."

"Yes, I know what I'm doing. I'm destroying the Reunion Movement I built with my own hands. I'm bringing a tide of infamy down upon the Infected. I'm pushing every person who once believed in me and followed me into the jaws of death—I want to kill them. I want them to see what Twilight is."

The visitor opened her mouth slightly, then closed it. A silent sigh escaped through the gap between her lips.

"So all of this comes from your true will. You weren't bewitched, lured, or suffering from some strange mental problem?"

"Yes. All of this comes from my own will." The white-haired Dragon Girl advanced with her sword in hand. "I have never regretted it, and I have never hesitated."

And the tide of Twilight surged forth.

Section Twenty-Six: All Mortals Must Die

How could one defeat an opponent whose strength, speed, reflexes, and technique all surpassed one's own?

How could one defeat a tactical master who could easily see through every trap?

How could one use swordsmanship that had not yet surpassed its master to defeat a teacher who had never stopped improving?

How could one use the ideals and techniques learned from the other to defeat a myth that looked down upon the land?