"I was aiming to kill you, sure, but wasn't that a little too easy...?"
Shiro had fully expected Petelgeuse to dodge and had already prepared to pursue him.
Instead, he stared down at the body severed cleanly in half at his feet and muttered to himself.
"Whatever. I should hurry."
"Let's see..."
Suppressing the slight discomfort in his stomach, Shiro dismissed his Device and reached into the robes covering Petelgeuse's upper body.
After feeling around through sticky blood—He found a book with a pitch-black cover, now stained crimson.
"So this must be the Gospel he was talking about."
Shiro opened the bloodstained book.
However—The longer he read, the deeper his brows furrowed.
After roughly skimming the entire book from beginning to end, Shiro disappointedly snapped it shut.
All the words he wanted to say eventually condensed into two.
"That's it?"
Put simply—The so-called Gospel was a book of prophecy.
It contained scenes from this world's future along with information concerning people who would supposedly become relatively important to that future.
For an ordinary person, knowing the future would be an incredible power.
Someone could obtain a Gospel, pretend to be a prophet before wealthy nobles and influential figures, and easily make a fortune.
But Shiro understood something immediately.
The future recorded in this Gospel—Was false.
That was right.
This sacred relic of the Witch Cult, something Petelgeuse had treasured above all else, contained a future that was already wrong.
For one thing, all the predictions were extremely vague and only concerned events relatively close to the present.
Most passages could also be interpreted in several different ways.
Worse still, many of them merely instructed the holder to actively carry out certain actions.
But the most decisive evidence that convinced Shiro the recorded future was false—Was that he did not exist anywhere in the book.
A Desperado transcended fate.
They existed beyond destiny's restraints.
Naturally, a book like this could not predict the future of Shiro, who was himself a Desperado.
Forget predicting his future—There was not even the slightest record acknowledging his existence in this world.
In other words—Before Shiro arrived, the Gospel might have been capable of temporarily predicting this world's future.
But after his arrival, combined with the inevitable butterfly effect he caused—A book that predicted major future events had become little better than wastepaper.
"Forget the future."
"Even its records of the past are annoyingly vague."
"Not a single thing I actually wanted to know is in here."
Shiro sighed.
"But it isn't entirely useless."
"At least this attack has made Roswaal even more suspicious in my eyes."
The future recorded in the Gospel was extremely vague.
It did not mention what road they would take back to the mansion.
It did not even record the fact that they would be returning to the mansion at all.
So how had the Witch Cult managed to ambush them at precisely this location?
Calling it coincidence would be absurd.
Either someone within the Witch Cult possessed an ability capable of tracking their route—Or someone knew their movements beforehand and deliberately informed the Witch Cult.
There was also the mysterious magic user who had created the barrier and still had not appeared.
At this point—The most suspicious person remaining was Roswaal.
The very man who had suddenly separated from them under the excuse of visiting a noble just before their departure.
"Whatever."
"If there's a score to settle, it can wait until I come back."
Shiro was just about to store the Gospel inside his Gift Card—When his right hand suddenly moved on its own.
His fingers tightened around the book and refused to release it.
"Hmm?"
Shiro regained complete control of his body almost instantly.
He looked down at his hand in confusion.
After observing it for a few moments—A smile slowly appeared on his face.
"I see."
"I was wondering how a Sin Archbishop could possibly have no real trump card."
Standing amid the empty ruins, Shiro spoke as though talking to himself.
"So you're actually an evil spirit."
"But if this is all you've got, trying to steal my body is a little too naive."
"Petelgeuse."
Petelgeuse Romanee-Conti.
Why would the man Shiro had cut in half only minutes ago suddenly be addressed by name?
The answer was simple.
Because the Sin Archbishop of Sloth was currently attached to Shiro's body—Or more accurately—To his soul.
'Aaaah! Why?!'
'Why, why, why, why, why?!'
'Why can your body not become one of my Fingers?!'
"When it comes to controlling my own body, I don't think I'd lose to anyone."
Shiro sounded completely unsurprised by the voice inside his mind.
"Besides, I have special abilities specifically suited for this kind of thing."
"You really chose the worst possible target."
"Oh, right."
"I almost forgot."
"All the Witch Cultists around here seem to have been killed by that last attack of yours."
"And within several li, I'm probably the only person left with reasonably high spirit affinity."
(PS: 1 li ≈ 500 meters)
If any random possession-type evil spirit like Petelgeuse could steal Shiro's body—He might as well find a block of tofu and kill himself by running into it.
Even ignoring everything else—The Twin-Wings Sword Style alone granted such terrifying control over his body that he could consciously regulate even the beating of his own heart.
That by itself was enough to stop Petelgeuse from controlling him.
And beyond that—Shiro possessed [Unbound], which granted him resistance to abnormalities on the level of the divine realm.
He normally treated the spell like little more than a flight technique.
But its ability to resist debuffs was absolutely genuine.
Ever since gaining it—Shiro had never once worried that Freya might charm him.
If even Freya, a Goddess of Beauty, could not accomplish something like that—A mere evil spirit like Petelgeuse could forget about it.
The real question was—What should Shiro do with the evil spirit currently lodged inside his soul?
As that thought crossed his mind—His smile widened.
To Petelgeuse, however—That smile probably looked no different from a devil's.
"I could just kill you inside me."
"But opportunities like this don't come often."
"So I'd like to try something first."
Shiro's smile became increasingly cheerful.
"If you survive, remember to tell me what you thought of it, okay~?"
'WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?!'
'Aaaah! I don't understand! I cannot understand! Incredible! Incomprehensible!'
'Why has diligent me lost to slothful you?!'
'Too much! Too much! TOO MUCH!'
'Aaaah! MY BRAIN TREMBLES!'
"First of all, you don't have a brain anymore."
"Second—"
"The place I'm sending you is definitely somewhere wonderful."
"I wouldn't let just anyone go there."
"So make sure you thank me."
A sword appeared in Shiro's hand.
Though calling it a sword was somewhat inaccurate.
Even Shiro himself had not fully figured out what the thing fundamentally was.
He merely infused it with magic and used it as a sword because that was convenient.
It was his Device.
And at the same time—It was the physical manifestation of his own soul.
Now, within the red light enclosed by its plastic-like shell, there was an additional black speck.
That speck—Was the possession-type evil spirit named Petelgeuse Romanee-Conti.
The next moment—Under Shiro's gaze, the black dot seemed to catch fire.
Crimson light rapidly engulfed it.
Then—A scream erupted directly inside Shiro's mind.
'I HAVEN'T ENCOUNTERED SUCH A PERFECT BODY IN DECADES!'
'EVERYTHING I HAVE DONE WAS FOR LOVE!'
'FOR LOVE, FEAR OF LOVE, LOST LOVE, COMPASSIONATE LOVE, DEVOTED LOVE, YEARNING LOVE, TENDER LOVE, REVERENT LOVE, CHERISHED LOVE, SUPREME LOVE, SELFISH LOVE, PURE LOVE, BELOVED LOVE, ROMANTIC LOVE, DEAREST LOVE, FAITHFUL LOVE, DEEP LOVE, BENEVOLENT LOVE, CARNAL LOVE, TREASURED LOVE, EARNEST LOVE, EXCLUSIVE LOVE, HATEFUL LOVE, LOYAL LOVE, DOTING LOVE, IMPOVERISHED LOVE, PARTIAL LOVE, BLIND LOVE, FRIENDLY LOVE, PITYING LOVE—'
'FOR LOVE! FOR LOVE! FOR LOVE!'
'FOR LOVE FOR LOVE FOR LOVE FOR LOVE FOR LOVE...!'
Petelgeuse's voice grew weaker and weaker.
The instant the black speck was completely swallowed by the crimson light—His voice disappeared entirely.
The spirit parasitizing Shiro's soul—Had finally reached its end.
"Haah..."
Shiro sighed.
"I expected that result, but I still really wanted to hear what he saw in there."
He did not dismiss his Device.
Instead—He turned around.
A red-haired man in the white cloak of the Royal Guard had already been standing behind him for quite some time.
Shiro raised an eyebrow.
"So you were the first one to arrive?"
"Reinhard..."
He paused.
"No."
"I suppose calling you Reinhard right now wouldn't be appropriate."
"But if that's the case, I don't know what I should call you either."
Shiro tilted his head slightly.
"How about introducing yourself?"
"The one currently occupying Reinhard's body."
"Or perhaps..."
"It would be more appropriate to call you a thing?"
…