"I don't understand... Have you returned to life?"
Crusch stared at Fourier as if he were a mirage. Her gaze held a mixture of longing and fear, as though she dreaded that she was merely dreaming. The late prince gave a melancholy smile.
"So it seems. I must confess I didn't expect to see you again, Crusch. Nevertheless, I thank fate for this fortuitous blessing."
"Your Highness..."
The girl was deeply moved by the words of her resurrected friend. She still couldn't fully process the fact that Fourier was standing right in front of her; he was alive and holding a conversation with her!
Who hasn't fantasized about reuniting with a deceased loved one, hearing their voice once more, or just catching a glimpse of their face?
The worst part about death isn't the separation, but the oblivion that comes with time.
Fourier's ruby-like eyes retained the very same brilliance, and his voice carried the identical warmth that had been engraved into the duchess's memories.
"Please, don't make that face," the prince tried to cheer her up. "I don't know how long I've been dead, but I need to catch up. Who brought me back? Did Felix do it, despite my flat refusal to be resurrected?"
Crusch's expression turned somber.
"I doubt it. He wouldn't do something like that."
"You're right," Fourier sighed. "Felix wouldn't act selfishly where I'm concerned. Speaking of him, where is he?"
"He has disappeared. Right now, I am looking for him."
"What?! What do you mean he disappeared?! We have to do something about it!" Fourier's expression shifted, looking determined to rescue his friend.
Nevertheless, Crusch remained serious. She looked at Fourier with a blend of nostalgia and suspicion.
"Are you truly who you claim to be? Am I speaking with the authentic Fourier Lugunica? If this is a fake, then I..."
Instead of completing the sentence, Crusch rested a hand on the hilt of her sword, making her intentions perfectly clear. Her hand was trembling, but she was resolved not to fall for such a vile deception.
Fourier caught the implicit threat and leaned forward in a gesture that resembled a bow. He did it in such a way that he would be left entirely exposed to a hypothetical attack from Crusch.
"I have nothing to hide. As far as I know, I am the one and only true Fourier Lugunica."
Even with those words, the Divine Protection of Wind Indication did not activate.
Crusch let out an unconscious breath. It was more of a gasp than a sigh.
He was real. Fourier, her great friend, had truly returned.
Unable to contain her emotions any longer, she rushed toward him and threw her arms around him.
In the prince's embrace, Crusch felt the burden she had carried in her heart for nearly two years grow a little lighter.
With Fourier here, everything would change. The kingdom would once again have a legitimate heir. Perhaps the Royal Selection would no longer be necessary.
But who had resurrected him, and what were their intentions? It couldn't have been a simple act of philanthropy or altruism, right?
The only person Crusch could think of was Felix, but if he hadn't done it before, why would he do it now, ignoring Fourier's own wish to die on his own terms?
"No, it had to be someone else, but who?"
Unable to formulate a plausible hypothesis, Crusch forced herself to leave her doubts aside and stepped away from Fourier.
"Your Highness, we must find Felix. There will be time for sentimentality later."
Fourier nodded, putting on a serious face despite the blush tinting his features.
"Let's go!"
The duo hurriedly made their way into the city. Along the way, Crusch tried to bring Fourier up to speed regarding the events that had occurred in the kingdom since his death.
"So the Council of Sages has taken control of the government... I hope Miklotov is doing a good job."
When Fourier heard about the Royal Selection, he nearly tripped and fell to the ground in surprise.
"You're a candidate for the position of the next ruler?!" The prince let out a laugh that wasn't born of mockery or disbelief, but of pure pride. "Of course, I always knew you would make a great queen! Though this isn't exactly how I imagined you'd get the position..."
The blond lowered his voice toward the end of the sentence, as if he were saying that last part to himself. Crusch tilted her head, as she hadn't quite managed to catch it.
However, Fourier's gaze was the exact same one he had given her when he declared his feelings on his deathbed. The memory made her heart race.
Furthermore, the prince's second sentence triggered another memory.
"That I would make a great queen, huh?" she murmured reflectively, recalling a certain scene. "Leandro said the exact same thing..."
"Leandro? Who are you talking about?" Fourier looked at her, raising an eyebrow in a comical fashion.
The duchess blinked and snapped back to reality.
"Oh, that's right. I haven't mentioned the most important part yet. Approximately a year ago, a man arrived in Lugunica. Almost immediately, he joined the faction of Emilia, a silver-haired half-elf who is also a royal candidate."
"Wait, did you say a silver-haired half-elf? Just like...?"
"Yes," Crusch confirmed. "Like the Witch."
"Wow... I wonder how the public reacted to that."
"Rejection, naturally. However, that is only the beginning of the story. This foreigner named Leandro Lagostena has a past closely linked to the infamous Witch Cult. They are his mortal enemies."
"Really? And he joined a woman who looks like the Witch?"
"At first, he used her as bait. He knew the cult would come after her due to her physical resemblance to the figure they worship. The most incredible part is that his strategy worked. When the cult attacked, Leandro had already prepared a countermeasure, and that was how he eliminated the White Whale and two Archbishop in a single day."
"He did what?!" Fourier knew the stories about the legendary White Whale and the infamous cult, which until then had never been defeated in any of its appearances. "Are you sure about what you're saying?! As far as I know, only the Sword Saint has the power to do all that! And yet, the cult is so elusive that they've always managed to avoid him."
"It's true. The difference is that Leandro possesses a strange power that allows him to know the future, in a way."
The prince was left dumbfounded by all these revelations about an individual who seemed far too convenient to be real.
"To think a single man did something like that..."
"He wasn't alone. I was right there with him during the subjugation of the whale and the ambush on the cult."
"Eh? Why did you get involved in something so dangerous?!"
"He offered me a deal I couldn't refuse. Furthermore, he brought extraordinary weapon technology with him and guaranteed that he wouldn't allow a single casualty throughout the entire mission. I had no choice but to believe his words... and the convincing backing behind them. Besides, the whale was always a problem, and participating in its elimination would give me a massive boost in the Royal Selection."
"That's undeniable. Even so, something terrible could have happened to you. Do you remember the previous Sword Saint?"
"Yes... In fact, Wilhelm Van Astrea joined my faction and participated in the hunt. He was the one who delivered the finishing blow to the White Whale."
"So you weren't exaggerating when you said a lot has happened," Fourier grimaced. "By the way, what about this Leandro? What is your relationship with him?"
"We are allies," Crusch replied naturally. "He is a good man."
"I see..."
"By the way, he brought me to this place."
"What?" Fourier tensed up.
"We are in an underground city used as a base of operations by a criminal group, from what I understand. Leandro said it was highly likely that Felix was being held captive here."
"You mean he was kidnapped? How did that happen?"
"I don't know yet."
"And you came with him? Just the two of you?" the prince inquired, narrowing his eyes with suspicion.
"No. Marcos Gildark, Wilhelm, and Leandro's companions are also here."
Fourier sighed and ran a hand over his forehead.
"What a relief... I mean, it's a relief that they brought more competent people along to reduce the risk."
"I suppose so. Tsk." Suddenly, Crusch clicked her tongue.
"What's wrong?"
"We've been searching this area of the city for several minutes now, but there's no one here—not even the criminals who live here."
"That's strange, isn't it?" Fourier was still confused by the suddenness of events, especially his unexpected resurrection. "What should we do?"
"I think... Ah?!"
The duchess stopped dead in her tracks. She had spotted a glow in the distance—it was an orange light, like fire.
"Let's go over there!" she ordered, sprinting forward at full speed.
"Wait for me, Crusch!" Fourier followed her, trying his best not to lose sight of her.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the site where the glow had originated. The street and the buildings had been blackened in a certain area, as if scorched by fire.
Standing there was a pink-haired girl; she was dirty, exhausted, and above all, distressed. Her eyes met Crusch's, and a spark of recognition flared between them.
"Lady Crusch..."
"Ram!"
Seeing the maid's condition, the duchess put an arm around her back and helped her up, since she was kneeling.
"Are you all right? What happened to you?" Crusch inquired, worried.
"Well..."
As she formulated an evasive answer, Ram noticed something and stopped speaking entirely. Crusch and Fourier noticed it too.
A massive silhouette had cast a shadow over the entire street.
It looked like a cloud, but it was obvious that it wasn't one. Ram, Crusch, and Fourier raised their heads simultaneously, and horror paralyzed them.
It was the White Whale.
---
The residents ran off in all directions, terrified by the dreadful auras exuded by Stride Vollachia and Wilhelm Van Astrea in the prelude to their clash.
The Sword Demon was serious, his gaze as sharp as the weapon he wielded. For the moment, he made no hasty movements and remained expectant.
For his part, the former Archbishop of Pride lived up to his title, smiling arrogantly while appearing to relish Wilhelm's caution.
"There is no shame in growing old," the old man said. "Few can boast of having lived a long life in this ruthless world."
"And are you satisfied with your old age?" Stride asked in a mocking tone, extending his ring-laden hand and pointing a finger at Wilhelm. "Your expression suggests a negative answer."
Wilhelm grunted and drew his sword.
"Unlike you, I didn't have the luxury of departing from this world alongside my wife. However, as long as I am alive, I will fulfill my duty."
Stride raised an eyebrow with curiosity.
"Oh? And what duty is that?"
The Sword Demon adopted a battle stance while releasing a terrifying amount of killing intent.
"I am going to protect this kingdom, no matter who the enemy is."
Upon hearing those words, Stride Vollachia burst into a loud laugh.
"Spoken like a true soldier! It's a pity that soldiers only exist to obey and fight for higher causes. Worry not: my venerable self will grant you the honor of dying in battle. Let us hope the decades haven't diminished your skill; otherwise, this will be very disappointing."
"Come and see for yourself!" Wilhelm challenged him.
"As you wish," Stride gestured, and a massive, three-headed black dragon appeared.
It was the Plague Dragon, Valgren. Another old enemy who had apparently returned from the dead to cause trouble.
"How is it possible for something like this to happen?!"
Wilhelm had to jump to narrowly dodge the attack. The massive body of the flying reptile easily tore through the stone structures, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.
"Ugh!" The old man shielded himself from some debris that came flying in his direction, managing to block them and receiving only a few minor scratches.
"What's wrong?! Did you think it would be simple to finish me off?! I remind you that it wasn't you who killed me!"
In fact, it wasn't Wilhelm who had killed Valgren either. He was facing two adversaries whom he had never defeated on his own.
Despite that, Wilhelm didn't feel the least bit afraid.
"Then let us find out if this old man's skill is enough to deal with the two of you," he said, gripping his sword firmly and lunging at Stride.
Just as Wilhelm's blade was inches away from reaching the former archbishop's body, a wall of fire interposed between them, courtesy of the dragon's breath.
"Tsk," Wilhelm retreated to avoid being engulfed by the flames, but he wasn't fast enough, as part of his clothes had been scorched and he sustained a few mild burns.
"Ha ha ha! Doesn't this remind you of the old days?!" Stride exclaimed, euphoric.
Valgren's tail whipped across the area, bringing down buildings on its path toward Wilhelm, who once again had to evade the lethal attack with a flip that looked very unusual for an older man.
Stride himself pointed this out with a cruel smile.
"Those vigorous movements don't match your appearance! I wonder how long you can maintain the facade of the timeless warrior!"
As if Stride had seen the future, the battle began to tilt to one side as Wilhelm felt the effects of fatigue creeping into his body, lowering his performance and causing him to make more mistakes.
Although he managed to inflict several wounds on Valgren, the Sword Demon was gradually being overwhelmed by the Plague Dragon.
The most frustrating part was that whenever Wilhelm believed he was about to land a critical strike, Stride would send people he controlled with his rings to step in the way and thwart the old man's plans.
Suddenly, Valgren attacked with all three heads. While retreating, Wilhelm tripped on a small pit and fell to the ground.
That single slip was all the dragon needed. Three enormous mouths loomed over the old swordsman, ready to devour him alive.
But when the jaws snapped shut, they caught nothing but air and dust.
Wilhelm blinked and realized he had survived. A purple-haired youth had swiftly picked him up, pulling him away from danger.
"Good thing I arrived in time. Are you alright, Sir Wilhelm?"
"I am fine. Thank you for your assistance, young man," Wilhelm looked at him analytically. "Judging by your uniform, I assume you are a knight. I don't recall Marcos bringing one of you with him."
"... Sir Wilhelm? What are you saying...? It's me, Julius Juukulius."
"Juukulius? How strange, I don't recall any member of that family by that name. No matter, I must deal with this matter as soon as possible. If you wish, you are welcome to help me!"
As Wilhelm returned to the fray, the purple-haired youth remained motionless, standing with a dazed expression after hearing those words.
He had a very bad feeling.
"You can bring reinforcements, but the result won't change!" Stride mocked, brushing off the presence of that knight.
As if in agreement, Valgren let out an intimidating triple roar that shook the earth.
Wilhelm ignored Stride's arrogant attitude and leapt to stab the dragon.
"What does this mean? Have I been forgotten by Sir Wilhelm?"
Valgren roared and rammed into Wilhelm, throwing him against a building.
"Focus, Julius! You have another priority right now!"
Finally, Julius snapped out of his stupor and prepared to fight as well.
With the combined strength of Julius and Wilhelm, the Plague Dragon was defeated in a matter of minutes.
By that point, Julius was quite worried, because during most of the fight he had tried to call upon his spirit companions for aid, but they had ignored him completely.
Something was wrong.
"It must be related to Gluttony... I thought it was very strange that he retreated during our battle. Did he do something to me? I have to ask Leandro, he must know."
While Julius became lost in thought again, Wilhelm approached Stride, who looked back at him defiantly despite being practically cornered.
"Your time is up, Stride Vollachia. You should have never returned to life."
"Ha, you say it as if it were my fault. Don't you see it? All of this is nothing more than a form of entertainment for those bastards."
Paying no heed to his enemy's delusional words, Wilhelm closed the remaining distance in a split second and decapitated Stride with a single motion.
Yet even as his head rolled on the ground, severed from the rest of his body, Stride did not die immediately.
His gray eyes shifted toward a certain spot.
He looked outward.
He looked at them.
He looked at you.
"Enjoy the show while you can, Observers. The future is uncertain, but one thing is for sure..."
The scene abruptly cuts black.
There is a flicker.
The focus narrows down to a single person.
It is a young man with jet-black hair.
He is smiling and pointing a finger outward.
His voice echoes with enigmatic words.
THE LIES WILL NOT HAVE A HAPPY ENDING.