The blade Momonga had previously seen in the young man's hands was, according to his magical assessment, a [Legendary] artifact – a worthy prize even for a level 100 Player… Still, in the grand scheme of Yggdrasil or even Nazarick, it wasn't something entirely priceless, as in not an item that would be hard to put a price on. Even if the price was indeed quite the kingly sum.
A proper level 100 Player should have a couple of them, with a Player fully bedecked with [Legendary] equipment to be cursed as a 'Lucky Bastard' by those that don't have such a thing.
But that was it… It was not something that Guilds or Players would go to war over.
Of course, setting up such a 'rich' Player, who had decided to flaunt their extremely rare equipment, for a successful ambush and taking their equipment would be a matter of honor for a Player like Momonga… But it would not evoke particularly strong emotions from him. After all, many of Nazarick's NPCs were fully equipped with items of similar class. Though that was more of a result of Ainz Ooal Gown being filled with Players that were perhaps a touch too obsessed about their creations.
Look at you here Tabula… It's called a Character Profile, not a novel.
Kehem, that is, while such a sight of rare items might cause some eye-rolling because someone has either charmed Lady Luck, or had spent an embarrassingly large amount of time endlessly grinding to get such artifacts… Though Ainz couldn't really throw stones in the latter case, his guild was exactly just that kind of obsessive.
In short, a [Legendary] artifact, while extremely valuable, was comparatively nothing special on the scale of Momonga's twelve long years within Yggdrasil. Discovering such an item in the hands of an inhabitant of this new world, Momonga certainly wanted it, but not something that he would sacrifice for.
Most likely, if gaining the artifact was too hard, or too costly, Ainz would just mumble some curse words, and complain endlessly to his frie… He would be unhappy, that's for sure, keeping an open eye if he could gain the artifact in the future if his luck improves or the circumstances change.
Such a consideration did not apply to the newly revealed weapon in the young man's hand right now. The moment the weapon had appeared, and its overbearing holy aura, Momonga's mind instantly focused on the words and actions of the young man, so the name of the blade did not pass by Momonga's mind and ear.
[Caliburn]…
Of course, Momonga had heard the name before – a legendary blade, one spoken in literal legends, according to the words of Tabula Smaragdina, another of the legendary artifacts belonging to King Arthur. In myth in legends it was already impressive, but in Yggdrasil? It was perhaps one of the best blades in all of Yggdrasil for any paladin class player.
Except for some too perfect and unique creations, it was definitely considered one of those relics that could bankrupt a mid-tier guild just by its appearance at some kind of auction. But it wasn't Momonga's memories of the same blade from Yggdrasil that made him suddenly tense up. Casting the same spell he did when the young man had pulled out his [Excalibur Fragment], instantly, information about the blade rushed into his mind.
Information that could be called 'lore' about the blade, described in a dry manner, was lodged into Momonga's mind. Information about its special abilities, its effects and about the creator of such an artifact, until an understanding crystallized in Momonga's head that the artifact in front of his eyes far surpassed the [Excalibur Fragment] the young man had used before.
A [Legendary] gear was a high-tier item, it could even be called endgame gear for Players, but that didn't mean that no artifact rank existed above it, for example, the [Divine] class gears. Where [Legendary] gear was the bread and butter equipment for a Veteran level 100 Player after already having completed the main plot of Yggdrasil, the equipment they would actually use, so that Pk'ers wouldn't be able to ruin them.
A [Divine] gear on the other hand would be the object of their pride.
A level 100 Player would need to complete multiple chains of dozens of quests, fighting the same bosses dozens of times, in order to get such an item. For only one of them – and even then, it wasn't a guarantee, the Developers were just the kinds of assholes to do that. And then, of course, they would have the possibility of getting such rare gear to the gacha… And no, he was not still salty over wasting his year-end bonus on getting [Wish Upon a Star] only for Yamaiko to rain on his parade when he was showing it off.
Acquiring such a rare item would indeed be a reason for a Player to brag to all their friends, using the gear even if it did not particularly match their class or style, their efficiency and power were that great. What did it matter that you were a rogue focused on using two daggers if you could get an axe that dealt ten times more damage with any attack? Whereas using the daggers to get such a damage number would need numerous buffs and preparations?
The fact that some kind of battleaxe didn't quite fit the image of a ninja in this case meant much less than the potential damage output or the special abilities of the equipment.
Of course, such equipment was not absolute, Players won battles, not equipment, even if the latter could bridge some gaps, a gulf is still too far. The full potential of any equipment could only be unlocked if the player and the equipment matched each other,
But still using [Divine]-class items could bridge at least five levels of difference, which is saying a lot, as the gap in the higher levels is much larger than the previous 95 levels combined. And if someone is fully decked in [Divine]-level gear, or even just a few that are complementary to each other's abilities… At least a ten level gap.
And yet, there's still another class of items above the [Divine] class, at least, not formally, as above the [Divine] there are only items that Break the Balance… Well, perhaps not there yet.
Because, in this case, Momonga wasn't talking about [World Class Items] – such artifacts were more legalized cheats and the highest level of any artifact in the game, they couldn't be called full-fledged equipment. Items that a Player would use, if not on a day-to-day basis, then at least on special occasions. No, World Class Items are more deterrents than true equipment, the weapon of last resort in Guild Battles. They were all specifically activated artifacts, extremely powerful, but designed to perform their unique function, one, albeit incredibly strong, ability.
Exceptions to this rule were so rare that they don't bear mentioning… Except that in this New World, with Demiurge's research regarding [Canis Lycaon], a [Longinus] suggested that it could be considered a rather weak [World Class Item] that could be used in any conditions. Of course, more research is needed, and Momonga would not risk activating the weapon only to find that it would disappear after some kind of use.
No, Momonga was talking about something else, an Item Class that is much more precious than even [World Class Item] even if they are weaker, where Momonga would even trade a [World Class Item] for it.
[Guild Weapons]…
In general, the power of a [Guild Weapon] varied from weapon to weapon and from Guild to Guild, each of such items was singularly unique, a status symbol of a Guild. Sometimes, even more powerful than [Divine] Class weapons… But no one sane would actually use it.
Not only could the creation of such an item consume an incredible amount of resources, but its use was also extremely irrational. Usable exclusively only by the Guild master, the weapon could be another ace in the deck of a Guild – but using one of the [Twenty] is much preferable than risking a [Guild Weapon].
After all, should the weapon be destroyed, or should the Guild lose possession of the weapon, the Guild would be dissolved instantly.
In other words, few guild Leaders, after deciding to create such weapons and risk them in battles. Therefore, most often, such equipment were exclusively symbols, stored in the treasury, and more often than not created as an afterthought, ultimately having rather modest characteristics with sparse use of Data Crystals.
However, theoretically speaking, a Guild Weapon could absorb an unreal amount of the most expensive and rare Data Crystals while other weapons are more limited. Technically speaking, [Guild Weapons] are the strongest Player created weapon possible, because of which a [Guild Weapon] could easily overcome even [Divine] class and approach [World Class Items], not in the essence of their abilities, but in the level of their overpowered-ness.
Momonga's own, Ainz Ooal Gown's [Guild Weapon]; the [Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown] – while perhaps, not the most creatively named [Guild Weapon], was, without a doubt, the most powerful [Guild Weapon] in all of Yggdrasil… They really are the only kind of Players that would waste time and resources on a weapon that would never see the light of day unless their Guild was already going to be destroyed anyway.
It was really saying something then, that, when seeing [Caliburn], Momonga began thinking of the golden staff that he had held in his hands for the first time not so long ago.
While not a [World Class Item] it was remarkably close.
Up until the young man had pulled out his sword, Momonga was planning on dragging this confrontation along – he wanted to show off to his 'bosses', to steal the interesting weapons and kidnap one of them to gather data. Now? There are two new, if contrasting plans.
His first, was borne of his instincts honed by the thousands of hours spent in PvP – which was to prepare himself to find a route to escape from the confrontation. The appearance of such a valuable, and equally powerful, artifact was too sudden to simply assume that a random opponent with a level of about Sixty truly possessed it.
This is unmistakably a trap…
Then again, even if that were not the case, there are such things as lucky people after all, facing such a powerful artifact without having a plan to counter it contradicted all of Momonga's instincts. Such objects were too dangerous to face by improvising on the fly – he was not that kind of Player.
Momonga had won his battles after carefully studying his opponent, the conditions of the battlefield, and making sure to face his enemy on his prepared time. In the end, as Punito Moe himself once taught Momonga, 'It doesn't matter how many battles you lose before you win the last one.'
To throw everything he had accomplished, not that there was much anyway, a loss of a [Legendary] artifact, and an interesting creature was not much. Running away, to have more time to watch his opponent, then to confront them in the future, was more than the logical behavior for Momonga.
Of course, his second reaction, put his logical plans out of whack – it was greed, pure and simple.
Not only his collector's instinct, or the ordinary greed of a Player when faced with the prospect of acquiring great treasure just at their reach, but the perfectly logical greed for safety. Letting an opponent, one that was already irrational to the point of using such a trump card, keep said card, was not a good idea. Especially if Momonga could find an adequate use for it.
After all, such equipment would look perfect on any paladin – for example, in the hands of Shalltear, or even Pandora's Actor, if he took the form of Touch Me…
Momonga had literally only a moment to consider his options – to weigh all the 'pros' and 'cons', to compare the odds and make his decision.
And, as expected from a cheapskate and a collector like Momonga – he decided to go for broke and get [Caliburn].
In the worst case scenario, he could summon the Floor Guardians, or other level 100 NPCs and destroy the surrounding city to kill all witnesses, and then blame it on the Khaos Brigade.
He had to find a use for his planted spies anyway – and what better use for the terrorist organization to take blame for his own terrorist actions?
It might not be the most moral of actions – however, he had no moral right to leave such powerful equipment to the enemy.
***
"[Grasp Heart]." Following Arthur's thunderous roar of rage and anger, these words were quiet, almost inaudible in comparison. But, the pain that had exploded in the mind of the heir to the Pendragon family made him forget for a moment about the new dawn of the holy Sun in the middle of the small, sleepy German town.
The pain pierced into his chest and his head, after which it exploded with hundreds of spiky fetters spreading through his flesh and bones. He wanted to scream, but all Arthur had the strength for was to open his mouth and try to groan in pain… But, only a half-suffocated wheeze and bloody saliva escaped his throat – splattering onto the pavement.
An incredible amount of pain that it was almost a physical force, even a breath would echo with the most terrible of hellish pain imaginable. Only by freezing and forever forgetting about any possibility of movement would Arthur save his life…
But still, he stood his ground.
"Hm, as expected – provides even defense against instakill… Then again, that's the most basic of basics. Still, an imperfect defense. A mistake." His enemy's voice reached Arthur's head as if through cotton wool – but it was good that his ears were still working somewhat, as he could no longer see, as all he could see were silhouettes.
Even as his head felt as if there was an ocean sloshing inside it, his ears and balance swimming, he could still feel the steel in his hand. A familiar, warm, slightly battered, handle, the only rock in the unsure world.
Arthur tried to remember what kind of blade he was holding in his hand – to grasp anything to return to reality. The pain had blown away his memories that it was hard to even remember his own name, let alone where he was and what he was doing.
But, with his sword in hand, slowly, so agonizingly slow, despite the fact that realistically speaking, it had only been a few hundredths of a second, the pain receded. With his weapon in hand and his determination steeled, the tides of pain were not so overwhelming anymore. That was why, when after another moment, a tidal wave of pain crashed into him again, the darkness was not just from the spell alone.
"[True Dark]."
As if a voracious acid had crashed into Arthur's flesh, another wave of pain, of a completely different nature this time, not constraining, but tearing, burning cold, like sandpaper running across his skin struck at him. It took his all to remain on his feet, still conscious as unimaginable pain broke through him.
"Hm, it even provides some protection from [Nothing] type of damage, interesting… But I could experiment later, time to cut this short."
This new wave of pain too receded, but slowly, too slowly. It took half a second, for Arthur's gaze began to clear again, lines of thoughts that had disappeared in his mind, exhausted by pain, began to rise to the surface. Memories of his sister, of his beloved, of the Pendragon heritage, of the sword… Of the enemy in front of him.
"[Mass Hold Species]."
His muscles, which had slowly regained its feeling after the waves of pain washed his consciousness clean, froze again.
Before, with a sense of finality to it, Arthur felt the touch of a finger to his forehead. It was cold, and even under the layer of flesh and skin, Arthur could feel the truth of what lies beneath,
It was Death itself.
"[Touch of Undeath]."
All strength left his body and Arthur fell down in a heap, the warm, comforting handle of [Caliburn], his source of strength through the deluge of pain, now slipped through his boneless finger. And so, Arthur knew without question that he had lost.
Perhaps, with [Caliburn] he could still have wrestled victory from the jaws of defeat, from Death itself, but now, without it, defeat is the only fate he has left.
"[Touch of Undeath], while its activation requirement is quite finicky, it is still the most perfect paralysis spell in my arsenal. Even an artifact like [Caliburn] would need a second, an eternity in battle, to overcome it. A second that you don't have."
The voice, without inflection, without joy at having bested him, spoke above his prone, unmoving form. Now, lying down, his sword just bare centimeters from his finger, a distance that his hands could not cross no matter how hard he tried, or shouted at his hand to move. Arthur's mind returned to the stories about his blade. About that history of [Caliburn], of how it and its wielder had ended in this situation.
One of their allies dead, Bikou, his sister and Kuroka's fate unknown, and Vali, still just as helpless as before… How did everything go so wrong?
Their confrontation with the unknown assailant, even with his strongest trump card…
"…[Caliburn]."
"Oh, you could still speak, that is quite impressive… Or perhaps, it is more because of your weapon?"
The thought of the greatest [Holy Sword] and the most precious inheritance of the Pendragon family, lying in the ground like it's trash, finally managed to bring Arthur out of his confused state. The indignity casting off the veil of pain and confusion over his pale, but that was all.
Even with a clear mind, his body did not, could not, obey the given order to move, he could not even move his eyes.
For all his vaunted strength of both body and will, Arthur, the heir of the most outstanding family of swordsmen in history, could not move a bare inch. The magic that coursed through his body was simply too strong for him to counteract – it was simply a matter of difference in quality. His previous defiance of it, helped by the strength of [Caliburn], absent, now that the blade had left his hands.
Now, bereft from his anger, and the strength of his blade, one that is much stronger than its wielder, for the first time in the entire battle, Arthur experienced fear – real fear. The realization that, perhaps, this battle will not end with any good outcome.
"Hmm, it's about the level I expected… But what to do next then, take him prisoner? I shouldn't be too greedy and try to get something from the church as well – the blade alone is already too great a reward… Or should I store [Caliburn] first before returning here? Still, I need to come to a decision soon, the longer I waste time deliberating on the decision, the less time I have…" The voice that reached Arthur's ears had become familiar to him over the last few minutes – and deeply hateful.
The unknown enemy… had wanted to take his [Caliburn], there was no doubt about it. He had simply caught him with magic, easily overpowered him, paralyzed him, and taken his strongest blade, the legacy of his entire family's history, like taking candy from a child – without any battle or struggle.
Arthur's mind, paralyzed with the poison of panic, was forcefully suppressed – he couldn't allow himself to panic in the current situation. When it seemed that the situation had instantly turned from dangerous to hopelessly lost, victory in his case was not destroying the enemy, nor even regaining his sword, but survival… For the sake of Le Fay, he had to do everything not to end up like Bikou.
The thought of his dead comrade brought pain, a soul deep one, entirely different from the two tastes of overwhelming pain that he had suffered before. He and Bikou… they had been talking and joking not ten minutes ago, and now, he was dead. He had died a foolish and meaningless death, burned after placing himself in the path of the enemy's attack…
Pain, anger, sadness, all of these emotions were suppressed a moment later by Arthur. The Pendragon family didn't produce hysterics, and Arthur wasn't going to be the first proof of an exception to that rule. He will be angry and cry and remember and mourn his lost friend later – after he survives this fight. If not for himself, then Le Fay must survive – at any cost.
"Should I finish him off, though? That would be the correct and safest action, but information about such artifacts… Maybe hand him over to Demiurge? Or Neuronist, in the end, she is a specialist in extracting information – there's still more that could be learned…" The monster that his group had the bad luck in encountering began muttering, the more information he has about the adversary, the larger his chances of survival, after all.
If he could, Arthur would have scoffed, he would reason and piece the true identity of the monster, who had thought that the small, sleepy, German town was a good place to be, later. Now he needed every bit of focus he had, every second, and every iota of information he could get, in order to formulate a plan.
He was not completely out of the fight, yet. Arthur felt [Excalibur Ruler] reaching for him.
Arthur, had trained in single-handed sword combat, and had not trained in dual wielding, and so, when he had called out for [Caliburn], he had stored [Excalibur Ruler]. It was in this possibility that he had rested his single chance to turn things around.
Now he could have summoned it and tried to dispel the paralysis magic placed on him… But it would take more than a second – Arthur wasn't knowledgeable or even sensitive to magic, he barely understood the power that [Caliburn] confers to him. But, he knows that his [Caliburn] is much stronger than the strongest of the [Excalibur Fragment].
If the enemy's spell was able to overcome even the passive abilities of [Caliburn], which were capable of burning away any harmful effect in an instant, even before they have an effect on the bearer, then [Excalibur Ruler] wouldn't stand a chance..
But every moment of thought meant another step closer to a final defeat, and therefore Arthur chose to act instead. Though, at this point, he had decided that subterfuge would function better than full-frontal assault – [Excalibur Ruler] is summoned under his body. And almost immediately, he could feel his magical bindings begin to loosen, slowly.
His conjecture was right, the [Excalibur Fragment] would not be enough to free him immediately, but he had done all he could. Forcing his body to be as still as possible, he could only hope that the monster would not notice the surreptitious change in his body position, as the blade rested under his body.
"Hmm, and what if even the ashes are enough for the summoning of permanent Undead? After all, one head was enough for this in the past, as well as an arm with a shoulder – and this ash is actually composed of the whole body, and with bone fragments so it should even function better… Probably… Why didn't I check it earlier! I've wasted so much material if that is indeed the case!"
Arthur didn't even pay attention to what the monster was muttering about, fully focused as he was in keeping still. With almost mocking slowness, the binding magic was giving way. It was like a scene straight out of a spy thriller, as an imprisoned spy, slowly cutting their binds with a stolen small pocket blade, when at every moment, they could get caught by a guard.
Arthur had never been so tense before, his overworked mind not helping matters.
His mind was constantly trying to present him with every grim pictures of what could happen next. That he would be noticed, that he would soon share the same fate as Bikou, a grizzly imagination of what could happen next to his sister, Kuroka, Vali, or what the monster would do with his swords.
Still, his heavily trained mind kept his body still, his training took control over his body, shutting off his emotions. Hysteria, pain, rage – all of these emotions he could parse later, when he gets out of this situation. Not sooner.
"Tsk, I've already wasted too much time on idle thoughts,"
These next words, however, previously ignored Arthur heard – panic almost overwhelmed him. The restraints hadn't been fully released yet – if he twitches now, attract his attention… Maybe by forcing the enemy to turn to him, maybe he'll force him to step away from Le Fay, maybe he'll win another second. Maybe, during that time, Le Fay will wake up and be able to escape, maybe…
"Hmm?," The monster's voice suddenly made him freeze, "Where is the mage girl?"
***
The clash with what could count as this world's [Guild Weapon], [Caliburn], so thoroughly threw Momonga off balance and reoriented his goals wholly towards acquiring the outstanding item. He completely forgot about the fact why the sword was pulled in the first place. That the sword appeared when he was about to confront the female mage.
He had completely forgotten about her existence.
A quick survey of his surroundings only proved to him that he had made a mistake. There's the young man, lying on the ground, the girl with cat ears and tails with a broken spine, who had started twitching a bit more after the appearance of [Caliburn]. Then there's the two non-combatants, the person bundled, still unmoving, clearly wounded gravely or just fully paralyzed, and then there's the pile of ashes.
Momonga was not stupid enough to put those two as fully out of combat yet, of course, the possibility of a trap still existed. As delayed revival spells are a thing and the guy in the bundle could still just be biding their time.
But nowhere in his sight was the mage girl.
Momonga suddenly wanted to do something he had never allowed himself in Yggdrasil, something he had carefully monitored for censorship within the game itself — and that was to curse out loud.
After all, he had forgotten the simplest and most basic rule of all in PvP – cut off the enemy's retreat paths first!
Yes, he had cast several paralysis spells, but he had completely failed to close the surrounding space to prevent teleportation or other instant movements. An error so basic and noob-like, that Punitto Moe would surely be looking at him with a gaze full of disappointment right now, if only he knew about what had happened.
But, in Momonga's somewhat weak defense, he could meekly object that he had completely not expected to encounter a [Guild Weapon] in what might have counted as a Random Encounter in classical RPGs. It was no surprise that his common sense flew out of the window, the moment such a rare item was put in front of him!
However, Momonga himself was fully aware that a rare artifact was no excuse for his laxness. Moreover, no matter the opponent, he should have created such a space-isolating barrier at the start of a battle. Fleeing with Teleportation was such a basic tactic for him to miss it, it only became even more important when [Caliburn] came out to play.
After all, if the enemy wasn't so much of a noob themselves and remembered to try to escape by Teleport, like the mage girl had done, and [Caliburn] had slipped out of his fingers just like that… Then Momonga didn't know which of the most intricate of foul curses he would have remembered to loudly curse with at that moment.
Fortunately for Momonga himself, at least he managed to avoid the most unfortunate outcome of the situation, [Caliburn] was still in his grasp. For him to miss something on that scale, and only missing a single potential adversary – which was still a negative outcome anyway, was a miracle in and of itself.
Still, it was a negative, because now he needed to use Demiurge's resources in order to find her as soon as possible and capture, or even kill, the mage girl.
But of course, [Caliburn] soothed any bad feelings he had – Momonga was ready to forgive himself with it in hand, so such an unpleasant event only pricked him, and exhausted its supply of negativity with it.
Now… What to do with the three incapacitated opponents, and the pile of ashes? Momonga needed to think about exactly what he should do with them.
The short, but very public clash had definitely been noticed and in the next few seconds, after the combat had ended, the observers – like his current 'bosses' from the Church, would arrive at the scene of the battle. And since Momonga doesn't know how he could explain anything, Momonga needed to retreat – it wasn't worth overburdening his luck.
Especially since there's already a combatant not accounted for – reinforcement would probably be coming soon.
Still, Momonga didn't want to leave without any explanation, in case he wanted to return here. It would make for the perfect ambush spot in case the girl's reinforcement would be returning here after all… And who knows what kind of rare treasurers he could get!
Momonga pondered what to do for a second, before sighing, accepting that he really had no other choice – and raised his hand to his temple, before placing a couple of fingers on his ear.
"[Message]…"
***
The burst of holy energy, catastrophic in its power, was as bright as it was fleeting. So fast that, despite the rather obvious nature of it, it was virtually impossible to track the cause of such a pulse, just as it was impossible not to track the pulse itself.
Holy energy at the level of a Seraphim, one that is fighting seriously at that, or that of the strongest Exorcist, Dulio's, appeared for a few moments before disappearing. Moreover, disappearing so thoroughly, that for those that don't know better, it would be as if it had not existed in this plane of existence at all… Not too impossible a description for the conditions of this reality – considering the fact how many worlds and dimensions existed in this reality.
But of course, that was not the case.
In any case, even if Michael's intervention had been the cause of such a brief event, procedure dictated that at least the well-being of the affected party and the cause of the incident should be investigated. The last thing Ewald wanted to see on the news was that he had missed a battle between someone of a Seraphim's level. The destruction such an event would cause would be catastrophic.
Considering the fact that no great exorcists or powerful multi-winged angels were anywhere near the source of the holy energy, he'd checked, missing any shred of information about what had happened would leave a mark of unprofessionalism on Ewald's record. And Ewald valued his face too much to just let it be marked with disgrace so easily.
So the fact that he knows nothing about the event, was making it very hard for him to keep the Christian virtue of Temperance intact. It was only the fact that the event, despite the bombastic nature, was not affecting the Church overmuch, that kept him from cursing.
Still, the only shred of information that his agents were able to bring him was that the Holy energy had come from a small, sleepy town in Germany. A place that was not so far off from the territory of the fallen… Well, from the former territory of the Fallen, considering their quite ignominious, but deserved, end as any sort of organized force just hours before.
He was quite perturbed by the lack of information.
Therefore, the information Ewald received was relayed not to the most suitable agent, but to the closest one to the origin of the anomaly – Griselda Quatra, once a promising star of an Exorcist… Unfortunately, she had faded away before she could fully rise to the top.
Ewald had once followed her career with great interest, and was somewhat regretful at the news that she had chosen to become the abbess of a monastery and caretaker of orphans instead of continuing her work as an Exorcist. However, free will was still an inseparable gift from Him to all the children of humanity, and therefore he did not seek to express his reluctance.
All work for the sake of Humanity is to be praised after all… Even if another sharp blade against the enemy of Humanity is in starker need, in his opinion at the very least.
However, be that as it may, the suddenness of the event required Ewald to send Griselda to the scene of the incident before Ewald could do his work with all due diligence. Perhaps, in some unlikely scenario, all of this was nothing more than a coincidence, a confluence of a dozen of the smallest, insignificant factors that happened to coalesce into a single, yet quite strange and telling, picture. Ewald was already buried in too much work as it is…
However, by the duty of his service, Ewald had long since uprooted such defeatist thinking from himself.
Since such an event had happened so close by to the Holy See, geologically speaking that is, first and foremost, he had to determine if it posed a danger to all of humanity. Only when it had proven to be of benign nature, if not a positive one, would he then allow himself to relax. Not to mention the fact that the information from the two future [Holy Sword] wielders sent to Japan was not in a hurry to return to his desk in the form of a report.
Sent to deal with the situation with Valper, officially speaking, while, unofficially, to scout out the Devils in Kuoh that had provoked all sorts of movements both within the Devil faction, and consequently of the Fallen Angels. It was quite vexing to find that not a single report had landed on his desk, despite the fact that the two had spent a day in the city already. At the very least, the two should have encountered the local authorities already…
Of course, it was not enough time to raise any red flags over.
Sure, his agents would have already sent a clear, and complete report by now, but the two girls were not his direct subordinate, they are still young besides – some leeway and laxity is to be expected. No matter how insistent Ewald was on the most stringent training of future agents, they were still always, one way or another, humans, even children. And Ewald, even with all his zeal and severity, did not and would not insist on turning living people into unfeeling automatons for destroying the enemies of humanity.
It was not just inhumane, it was also simply inefficient.
Therefore, Ewald could easily foresee many reasons as to why there is a delay to the report – even anything dire or serious, that is. Factors, ranging from laziness, to a battle breaking out, could be the reason the two agents had failed to send their report. This was from a country so far away from the Seat of the Holy See, in a city controlled by the Devils. The faction most antagonistic to the Church…
However, for some reason, at this very moment, the thoughts of the two girls sent to Kuoh, along with two, though considering Xenovia, three, holy blades, made Ewald's stomach rise and twist into a tight spiral…
And to his great regret, Ewald, who took care of his health, possessing the body of an outstanding exorcist, was accustomed to trusting his intuition. He was, for some reason, convinced that the reason for this feeling was not at all that he had drank some bad coffee in the morning…