The adults all knelt on both knees, heads bowed, praying for the descent of the gods' emissaries.
Chaldea's Master and Servants waited behind them for an opportunity to act.
"It's practically some kind of ritual."
Fujimaru Ritsuka offered a brief assessment.
"It has always been this way. It's the rule."
Gerda answered Fujimaru Ritsuka's question.
Other than the strange, wildly imaginative questions that seemed bizarre to her, she answered any question the three of them asked.
"I'll probably do the same someday. In a dozen years or so."
Fujimaru Ritsuka turned her head and glanced over.
There was no fear in Gerda's eyes.
Was it because she had been going through this for over a decade?
Just as I thought.
The "humans" of this Lostbelt were less like humans and more like livestock in a farm.
Without thought, without fear, accepting their predetermined deaths.
Fujimaru Ritsuka wanted to see just what kind of being this world's so-called god was.
"Anyway, after this ritual, the emissaries should descend from the sky soon."
"Look—"
"They're here!"
A magical energy reaction appeared.
Mash had already shifted into her Demi-Servant form. Shield in hand, she stood slightly ahead of Fujimaru Ritsuka and watched the sky warily.
Norla's response was even more direct—the flames of a dragon were already held back in his throat, ready to pour forth at any moment. Even the temperature of the surrounding air rose slightly.
"Humans."
"Humans."
"Humans."
That was—
A compassionate female voice.
Fujimaru Ritsuka froze instinctively.
She seemed to have heard a voice like that before.
It was gentle, compassionate, and calm.
Like a mother murmuring into an infant's ear, like a warm breeze brushing past spring willows, like a maiden's hand dipping into a clear spring—
But.
"Today is the day of selection."
"Your lives shall be