When her mother mentioned that a friend had come to the house, Hirai Yukari had been puzzled, wondering who it could possibly be—only to discover that it was Shana.
Thinking back, the last time Shana visited her home, Yukari had introduced Shana to her mother using this very identity.
Yukari wanted to chat more with Shana, but the other girl remained cold, utterly ignoring her.
Thus, only Nitocris and Alastor carried on their own conversation.
"The Crimson Denizens whose locations I previously gave you—have you already eliminated them all?"
"Yes. The 'Mirage of a Thousand Phantasms,' Agris, whom we encountered today, was the last one."
"Hmm… The World's Will provided me with only the locations of these Denizens, not their individual strengths. An enemy like Agris is still unsuitable for the current Shana…"
"Hmm... perhaps it's because the World's Will of the human realm initially selected these enemies from your perspective. After all, to you, no matter how powerful a Crimson Denizen may be, they're hardly worthy of concern, and thus no detailed information about their power was necessary."
There was something Alastor kept hidden from Nitocris.
If they had traveled at their usual pace, he and Shana wouldn't have reached Misaki City so quickly—certainly not before dinnertime. The reason lay with Shana: she had been unusually hurried, greatly shortening their travel time.
Alastor could roughly guess why. Possibly, after today's fierce battle, Shana's desire for greater strength had become even more urgent. Perhaps she wanted to hurry back and ask Nitocris about the locations of other Crimson Denizens, hoping that through more combat, she might rapidly become stronger.
But there was another possibility…
Shana's haste might not have come from a craving for strength—but from an eagerness to see a certain someone.
He didn't know. He wasn't certain if his guess was correct.
He was an ancient Crimson God, practically a living encyclopedia of history, yet even he had something he didn't understand: emotions. Before contracting with Mathilde, Alastor had known nothing about feelings.
Alastor had noticed that ever since meeting Nitocris, his contracted Flame Haze had gradually deviated from the ideal path that he, Wilhelmina, and the others had arranged. She drifted further and further away from becoming a selfless, desireless hunter, growing increasingly impulsive and emotional.
Had the person affecting her so strongly been an ordinary human rather than a deity, Alastor might have attempted to eliminate them by any means possible. An existence that could so easily sway his Flame Haze's heart was too dangerous, too fatal a weakness.
Alastor didn't know what the correct course of action was. In this matter, he was inexperienced. Under his gaze, Shana's interest in Nitocris grew daily, but besides allowing things to develop naturally, he seemed unable to think of any better solution.
Thus, Shana stayed overnight at Hirai Yukari's house.
This time, Shana didn't leave Yukari's home to sit alone on someone else's rooftop. Instead, she slept in the room that Yukari's mother had prepared for her, just one wall separating her room from Yukari's.
"Shana-chan, would you like to take a bath?"
When Yukari's mother asked Shana this question, Nitocris froze, and Yukari's mouth fell open in shock.
Both clearly remembered: the last time they had made this very suggestion to Shana, they'd failed spectacularly.
Just when both were sure that Yukari's mother would similarly fail, Shana unexpectedly gave a quiet, muffled reply:
"…Mm."
"Then… did Shana bring a change of clothes? If not, you can wear Yukari's clothes temporarily. Seeing as you two are about the same size, Yukari's clothes should fit you nicely."
Yukari's mother continued naturally, seemingly oblivious to Yukari's astonished—even horrified—expression.
Nitocris's mind was similarly filled with question marks.
Why? Why did Shana reject our suggestions so decisively, but accept Yukari's mother's so easily?
Could it be that Shana's affection toward Yukari's mother is higher than toward us? But I haven't seen her mother do anything that would significantly raise Shana's affection…
...
It was Saturday, a clear and beautiful day.
Because it was the weekend, students who had just endured five days of classes would either gather with friends or simply lounge in bed, enjoying the pleasure of sleeping in.
Misaki City, riverside along the Manami River.
This place often drew passing pedestrians to pause and admire the scenery, sitting on sloped grassy banks, gazing at the flowing water under the bridge while sighing whimsically, "Today's wind is rather noisy, isn't it?"
As it was still early morning, a thin mist hovered above the river.
Beside the river stood a girl with waist-length black hair, her back facing the walking path. She faced the river intently, tightly gripping a large katana pointed forward with complete concentration.
Her youthful face, still tinged with innocence, was now marked by utter seriousness, her aura as sharp and penetrating as a blade freshly unsheathed. It was hard to imagine that such an imposing aura emanated from this girl who still looked so young.
Her swordsmanship belonged to no particular school; rather, it was a unique "self-taught" style she had forged through numerous battles. The girl had never learned the concept of "concealing one's sharpness," nor had anyone taught it to her.
Holding the stance right before a strike, maintaining this posture alone—it was unclear how long she'd been doing this…
Suddenly, the girl frowned, lowering the katana she held aloft, its tip pointing downward to the ground.
"Still not enough, huh…?"
Within her voice, frustration and unwillingness echoed clearly.
From the pendant hanging around her neck, a consciousness immediately responded:
"You must not rush," Alastor advised gently. "You already possess the qualification to wield this power. Eventually, you'll fully utilize my flame. But hastening too much now will only produce the opposite effect."
The first Flame-Haired Burning-Eyed Hunter had been the strongest Flame Haze in Europe—powerful enough even to intimidate Sydonay, the Thousand Changes. Yet despite sharing the same contract with Tennjōkekkai, Shana could only use the barest fraction of that power.
Recalling her helplessness when facing the Mirage of a Thousand Phantasms, Agris—and the subtle, undeniable fluttering in her heart when Nitocris's phantom arrived to rescue her—Shana's face clouded deeply.
"But... I must become stronger…!"
With a low growl of determination strong enough to grind her teeth, Shana raised Nietono no Shana again.
For the current Shana, if she wanted a quick increase in strength within a short period, mastering the God of Retribution's flame was her only viable path.
"Haa…" Alastor sighed helplessly.
"Throughout history, those overly obsessed with power rarely meet good ends. Most become slaves to their own strength. Great power should always remain a means to an end—not the end itself."
Those words weren't spoken by Alastor—but they were just as familiar to Shana.
Shana swiftly spun around, turning sharply toward the voice behind her.
Yet… the figure standing there wasn't exactly as she'd expected.
"Are you… Hirai Yukari? Or the God of Humanity?"
"Currently, I am Nitocris." Nitocris, bearing Yukari's face, flicked her jackal-like ears gently atop her head. "Since I'm borrowing Yukari's body, this form is actually my true current appearance. The form you previously saw was merely my disguise. Of course, that's also the true appearance of my main body… Still, this is the first time I've met you looking like this, isn't it?"
A wild-grown swordswoman like Shana might lack refined or sophisticated swordsmanship, but her instincts were extraordinarily sharp. Normally, nobody could approach her unnoticed like this.
But if the person was Nitocris, perhaps there really wasn't anything to be surprised about. Plenty of Crimson Denizens had their throats slit by Nitocris without ever seeing her face or realizing they'd already died.
And don't mention nonsense like a proud deity performing assassinations being embarrassing—King Hassan himself was an assassin, yet was there any Grand-class Servant cooler than he was?
Indeed, the voice belonged unmistakably to Nitocris, yet the face was Yukari's, giving Shana an indescribably strange feeling.
But she didn't voice it, instead coldly huffing and turning back around, raising the katana toward the river once more.
Just then, a pair of hands gently reached from behind Shana, almost embracing her, and closed softly around the hilt of Nietono no Shana.
Then, a familiar voice gently reached Shana's ear once more:
"Focus. Feel the flame hidden deep within you."