The throne room of Belzerg was marble and gold — vast, still, carved into a cathedral of authority. Stained-glass windows painted fractured rainbows over the polished floor. This place once echoed with knights, laughter, idiots, even petty bickering.
Now it was silent.
Queen Lalatina Dustiness Ford — her white armor shining like a blade — stepped down from the dais. Every movement controlled. Every breath disciplined.
She stopped in front of Aqua.
"You say Kazuma lives. That he isn't himself. And you're asking for my help."
Aqua held her gaze. "Yes."
Lalatina didn't blink. "Then I require something in return."
Aqua's voice sharpened. "You doubt me."
"I do." No hesitation. No apology.
"Not from contempt. The Aqua I once knew would never have survived ten years chasing a ghost. If you've changed, I need proof."
She turned away, pacing toward the stained-glass lion of Belzerg's crest.
"Belzerg is fragmented. Even our royals are no longer safe."
She paused.
"Iris is missing."
Aqua froze.
Iris: bright, naive, full of hope. A girl who called them heroes.
"She disappeared in the eastern heartlands," Lalatina continued.
"Possibly captured by remnants of the demon army… or worse — by our own nobles."
"Your own people?" Aqua asked.
"I don't know." Her voice dropped. "But she wasn't the only one."
She faced Aqua, eyes cold and unreadable.
"Princess Althea vanished next."
Aqua felt something tighten in her chest. "Two royals? Gone without a trace?"
"Althea was brought to the court after the capital fell. A supposed survivor." A muscle in Lalatina's jaw twitched.
"I grew to care for her. She was fierce. Sharp. Then these rumors of Iris appeared, and Althea left alone to investigate."
"And Claire and Rain?" Aqua asked quietly.
"They followed after her. And vanished."
The kingdom wasn't being attacked.
It was being hollowed out from the inside.
"Why not go yourself?" Aqua pressed.
"Because if I abandon this throne, the kingdom collapses."
She stepped closer.
"I am Belzerg's last pillar. If I fall — the people fall."
Silence stretched between them.
"So what do you want me to do?" Aqua asked.
"Find Iris. Find Althea. Bring them home."
Her voice was iron.
"And prove that your resolve wasn't just talk."
Aqua bowed her head. "I accept."
Hours later, in a secured chamber deep within the palace, Lalatina returned carrying crates and sealed ledgers. Dust and wax clung to everything — relics of buried secrets.
"Aurevell rose from fire and ash," she said, unfurling a map across a stone table.
The kingdom was fractured.
Black markers for fallen cities.
Red for occupied zones.
One region shimmered in gold. Aurevell.
"Aurevell no longer answers to the crown," Lalatina said. "We are a fragment of a corpse, standing only because we fight harder than the scavengers feeding on it."
Aqua studied the map.
"Iris vanished here," Lalatina said, tapping a mark on the edge of the ruined city of Lenterra. "Shortly after… Althea appeared. My supposed cousin. She became dear to me. Then she left after hearing a rumor — alone — chasing Iris."
Lalatina opened a small chest, revealing coded letters, maps, sealed vials — and a single envelope marked with red wax.
"This letter started it."
She handed it to Aqua.
"No crest. No origin. Only coordinates… and a warning:"
"She lives, but not as you remember."
Aqua scanned the handwriting — precise, surgical. Calculated.
"You'll follow their trail," Lalatina commanded. "Alone."
Aqua solemnly nodded. "I understand."
"No," Lalatina said, voice dropping. "Understand this as well."
She stepped close enough that Aqua could see the exhaustion behind the steel.
"If you fail… if Iris is lost… you will bear it. Not as a goddess. But as a woman who swore to protect her."
Aqua didn't flinch. "I won't fail."
Boots against marble. Cold air biting at her cloak. Aqua left the throne room without another word.
Strength in every step. Fear in none.
Outside, the afternoon sun cut across the courtyard. Merchants and nobles moved like river currents around her.
Then—
A giggle.
Soft.
Feminine.
Playful.
Aqua turned — nothing. Just crowds.
She continued walking.
Unseen, on a watchtower above, a sharp crimson eye followed her.
A figure crouched on the roofline — cloak of scarlet, gaze unwavering.
The wind teased her hair.
"The fish swims into the hook…" she murmured, voice coated in amusement.
She pulled down her hood.
Megumin.
Older. Beautiful. Expression colder than winter steel.
She vanished into the shadows.
Deep beneath the watchtower, blue torches pulsed with an unnatural glow.
She entered a chamber of stone and frost.
Kazuma — or what wore his skin — sat on a throne of black marble. A pocket watch spun lazily between his fingers.
"Report."
"She has the documents," Megumin said. "She's heading east. Exactly as planned."
Kazuma smiled.
Not Kazuma's smile.
"Excellent. Let her run."
He leaned forward, eyes flickering with something ancient and hungry.
"Let her believe she still has a chance."
He closed the pocket watch with a click.
"The reunion will be… unforgettable."