Interlude: Those Who Stir in the Dark

Clang!

Sparks flared in the darkness.
The harsh clash of steel echoed through the night, though the source was buried deep within the shadows.

Southern region of the Sugarcreek Kingdom.
A port town near Eclear Castle and Zex’s private beach.
Its back alleys had become a deadly gambling table—where the stakes were measured in lives.

"…That swordsmanship. You’ve trained extensively."

"…"

Moonlight broke through a gap in the clouds, revealing two figures.

One was a girl in a black, high-collared uniform that resembled that of a modern military officer, complete with a peaked cap. Her hair, a soft light blue, fell neatly to her shoulders.
Her opponent was a sturdily built figure, dressed head-to-toe in black, with short, dull blond hair—and a grotesque mask that concealed every trace of his expression.

The girl stood poised in seigan-no-kamae, gripping her two-handed sword reminiscent of a katana.
The masked man crouched low, daggers in both hands.

"I’ve got no personal grudge against you… but work’s work."

It was the masked man who spoke. Judging by his tone, he was still young.

"I’ll ask just in case—are you aware of who I am, and still choose to attack me?"

Before she could finish, the masked man lunged forward, spinning into a vicious roundhouse kick.

"Too slow!"

The girl—Lieutenant Colonel Sylphy of the Special Marine Forces—raised her sword high to intercept, aiming to cleave through the oncoming leg.

"!!"

But at the last instant, Sylphy leapt aside.

Clang!

A heartbeat later, multiple spears of light rained down on the spot she had just vacated.

"…A coordinated ambush using magic? And that spell is Holy Lance?"

From the darkness, more black-clad figures stepped into view, each wearing the same eerie mask.
Their movements were sharp and deliberate—combatants of masterful caliber, each radiating magical energy.

"In a one-on-one, I doubt I’d lose…"

By her judgment, her skill and magic should easily surpass that of any single opponent.
But this wasn’t a duel. Surrounded by multiple foes, with the threat of unseen reinforcements, her odds were grim.

Sylphy gritted her teeth.

The timing of this ambush—right after her routine report from her subordinates—was too precise.
That meant either a betrayal within her ranks, or these assassins had somehow tracked her movements.
Either way, their stealth was exceptional. Even her elite Special Marine Forces hadn’t sensed them.
Only a handful of people on the western continent possessed such skill.

"That level of coordination, your spellwork, and those masks… I see. You must be the infamous hounds of the Church. But why would the Church turn their blades on me?"

"…"

No answer.
The masked assassins tightened their formation, silent as death.
Their circle was flawless—no gaps, no wasted motion. The air grew heavy with concentrated mana.

Sylphy drew in a slow breath and gathered her own energy, reinforcing her resistance to magic while preparing for a counterstrike.

The standoff stretched on, each second dragging like an eternity.

"…Swordplay is nice and all, but how about spicing things up with a flashier magic duel?"

A voice—light and teasing—came from the side.

Sylphy spun instantly, blade raised.

Careless. She hadn’t sensed a thing.
But the masked group had been caught off guard as well. They shifted at once into a defensive ring, weapons raised toward the new arrival.

…So he’s not with them either.

Cold sweat traced a line down Sylphy’s neck.

The Thirteenth Order of Knights—known by many names: The Pope’s Long Arm. The Black Apostles. The Walking Guillotines. The Living Reapers.
An elite assassination unit serving directly under the Pope, famed for their mastery of stealth, detection, and silent killing.
Among them, only ten were granted the sacred Ancient God Masks—the Personas.
Yet now, someone had appeared who could surpass even those ten “Paladins” in detection ability.

A faint tap, tap of footsteps echoed through the dark.
From the rippling shadows, a form began to take shape.

"…A child?"

Sylphy frowned in disbelief.

What emerged was a beautiful young boy in a formal butler’s tailcoat, his short black hair softly framing his pale face.

"Come on now, let’s see some fireworks. If you don’t hurry, he—the one I barely managed to seal away—might show up again."

He clapped his hands together with a bright, rhythmic pat-pat, smiling cheerfully all the while.

Without hesitation, the masked assassins exchanged quick hand signs—and unleashed Holy Lance in unison.
No warning. No mercy.
Their training demanded absolute obedience.

"…What!?"

Even Sylphy gasped.

The boy stood there, impaled by countless spears of divine light—half his face blown apart—yet still smiling.

"Goodness… even with resistance, holy magic still stings quite a bit. Guess our compatibility’s just awful under these restriction rules."

He spoke lightly, almost amused, as he pulled the glowing spears out of his body one by one, as if they were mere splinters.

"…Now then, everyone. I did ask for a flashy fight, but I meant with each other, not with me."

His innocent gaze swept over them.
But beneath that childlike face was an unfathomable darkness—something ancient and cruel, the very embodiment of the world’s malice.

"…Ah. So he’s already caught up, has he? And here I went through the trouble of setting up a multidimensional barrier…"

As if in answer, the air cracked.
From the fissure stepped a young man.

"Heh heh heh. Found you at last. Even for me, getting tossed into a dimensional rift was a first… Oh? Isn’t that Sylphy I see there?"

"Z–Zexais-sama!"

Startled by Zex’s sudden appearance, Sylphy cried out in relief—so much so that her usually hidden ears popped upright with a soft pop!
She didn’t even try to hide them this time.
If Zex was here, everything would be fine.

"Well, well. I’ve met many people over the past two thousand years, but you’re the first I’ve ever seen escape from a Dimensional Prison."

The boy in the tailcoat—the Great Demon Berial—looked genuinely astonished as he regarded Zex.

"…Wait, are you sure you’re human?"

"How rude. I’ll have you know I’m a perfectly ordinary human being. …Now then, who might these fine gentlemen be?"

Zex smiled lightly as his gaze shifted toward the masked Holy Knights in black.

"…"

The knights vanished soundlessly—gone in the blink of an eye.

"Hmm… so they had a Return Home spell prepared after all," Berial murmured in mild irritation.
"I should’ve sealed the area with an anti-teleportation barrier. Oh well. My task here is mostly complete anyway. …Now then, I believe it’s time for me to take my leave."

With a graceful bow, Berial began to fade into shadow.

"Wait—!"

Sylphy called out to stop him, but just as swiftly as he had appeared, Berial melted into the darkness and vanished.

"It’s all right, Sylphy," Zex said gently. "He was likely just assessing the risks around him."

"…Understood."

Though still uneasy, Sylphy sheathed her blade.

"Well then, it’s getting quite late. Let’s head back to the manor for dinner. How about joining me tonight, Sylphy?"

"!! …Eh—e-eating together!? I–Is that really okay!?"

Zex’s gentle smile made Sylphy’s ears perk straight up again, her cheeks glowing crimson as a radiant smile spread across her face.

"…Your next mission."

Midday.
A tavern somewhere in the countryside of the Sugarcreek Kingdom.

A well-built young man sat alone at a corner table, dressed entirely in black. His short, dull blond hair caught the light as he downed a glass of strong brandy in a single motion—straight, no chaser. Clearly, he could handle his liquor.

Around his neck hung a pendant shaped like a cross intertwined with a crescent moon—the sacred seal of the Western Unified Holy Church, or simply the Church. It marked him as one of its faithful servants.

In other words, a priest—a man meant to live a life of purity and virtue—was here drinking hard liquor in broad daylight.
If any devout believer saw him, they’d surely frown in disapproval.

But the young priest didn’t care. He drank with unbothered satisfaction, savoring every drop.

"…Hey now, don’t you think they’ve been working us a little too hard lately?"

He muttered, sounding more annoyed than drunk.

Behind him, seated back-to-back at the neighboring table, was a kindly looking old man reading a newspaper printed by movable type. Without moving his lips or glancing up, he spoke in a subtle, trained tone that carried his words directly to the priest’s ears.

"This time it’s just reconnaissance. And the target happens to be quite the beauty—Her Highness, the Princess of Sugarcreek. Be grateful."

"Whoo~♪"

The priest let out an impressed whistle.
"So, the one they call the ‘Jewel of Sugarcreek,’ huh? I’ve heard she’s a real beauty. But what’s the Church suddenly want with her?"

"Apparently, there are traces of a Demon Lord’s shadow around her. She’s concealing it well, it seems… though there’s no solid proof yet."

"So it’s just observation for now?"

"No. His Eminence has ordered a more active investigation."

"Can’t say I’m thrilled about that. Stirring up a snake’s nest is one thing—but what if we wake something worse? Like last time."

"…According to our reports, that one was a high-ranking demon lord-class entity—codename ‘Berial.’ Engaging him without preparation would’ve been suicide."

"And yet, what the hell was a big-shot demon like that doing out here in some backwater kingdom?"

"Who knows. Might have something to do with this ‘shadow of the Demon Lord.’ …Oh, and about the Merchants’ Guild case—you’re off that. The debt’s been settled, so the matter’s closed."

"Great. Always nice to risk my neck for someone else’s sense of duty."

"Hmph. Don’t complain. For this new mission, the Church in the royal capital of Torte will handle your funding and provide subordinates. Your cover identity will be that of a bishop dispatched from the main cathedral."

"A bishop, huh? Fancy title for an undercover job. …Wait, don’t tell me there’s more to this gig than spying?"

"Correct. The Church is hosting a conference soon—the ‘Preparatory Council for Establishing a Unified Western Policy Against the Demon Lord’s Army,’ or some equally long-winded name. His Eminence has decreed that you’ll serve as deputy secretary-general for the event."

"You’ve gotta be kidding me."

"Dead serious. The conference is your cover. Use it to meet with kingdom officials and gather information openly. His Eminence is particularly interested in anything related to the Princess of Sugarcreek."

"…So she’s dark, then?"

The priest’s tone dropped, his eyes sharpening like a hawk’s.

"No one knows. Not even we can fathom His Eminence’s will—or his heart."

"I see. Well, if even the Cardinal can’t read His Eminence, I guess there’s no point questioning it. As a loyal servant of the Church, I’ll handle it."

"Oh? You sound motivated."

"Well, from what I hear, all I have to do is get close to a beautiful princess, right? Sounds like a fun assignment to me."

"Hmph. Always driven by your vices. Just don’t drag His Eminence’s name through the mud."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it."

With that, the young priest downed the rest of his glass in a single gulp.