Aqua shoved the last of the rune-seals aside and pushed open the massive iron door.
Nothing.
No tortured princess.
No forbidden lab.
No reveal.
Just a small prayer room.
The chamber was narrow and cold, illuminated only by pale blue torches fixed into the walls. Rows of simple wooden benches lined the center, all facing an altar.
Atop the altar sat a delicate porcelain statue of a goddess—a cheap replica of herself.
Aqua's lips twisted with disappointment and disgust.
"So this is it…?" she whispered, chest tight with betrayal.
"All that buildup—for a prayer room?"
Her pulse still hammered in her ears. Kazuma's message—
"She lives, but not as you remember"
—still burned in her mind, poisoning every breath she took.
Is this another manipulation? A dead end? A joke?
The air shifted.
Aqua snapped around, staff raised.
Someone stood near the back pews—lean, cloaked, clearly armed. A traveler?
His presence made no sense.
No demonic aura.
No connection to Kazuma's wards or the royal archives.
Just a man with a neutral expression and absolutely no reason to exist here.
"Identify yourself," Aqua said sharply, authority snapping back into place.
"This chamber is under royal seal. Trespassers are executed."
He didn't flinch.
"I'm just passing through," he said.
"Name's Serath. This city feels wrong. You stood out, so I followed."
Aqua blinked.
"You followed me?"
Before she could respond, a faint hiss echoed overhead—high above, on the hidden spiral staircase. The hairs on her neck stood up.
Too late.
Something dropped from the shadows like a falling blade.
A small figure landed between Aqua and Serath, silent as a broken prayer. A dark cloak rippled around her, and the torchlight caught crimson eyes that glowed with murderous precision.
Megumin.
Not the loud, dramatic, explosion-addicted gremlin Aqua used to know.
This one moved like a weapon.
She didn't even acknowledge Aqua. Her entire body angled toward Serath, one hand hovering near a concealed sleeve of throwing knives.
"You ruined everything," she said quietly. "Who sent you?"
Serath held her gaze, hand drifting to his sword—not threatening, but ready. "Excuse me?"
Megumin leaned closer, voice low and lethal.
"My ambush was perfect. My timing, perfect. And then you show up. A stray variable."
Aqua stepped forward, voice cracking. "Megumin...?"
"Megumin—please. Don't do this. Where is Kazuma? Where is Princess Iris? Do you know anything about—"
Megumin lifted one hand without looking at Aqua.
"Silence."
Aqua stopped as if someone had shoved a knife between her ribs. Megumin's focus never left Serath.
"You have ten seconds to explain yourself," Megumin said. "Before I remove the variable."
Serath's hand shifted fully to his blade. He sliced his palm in one motion, blood seeping down and coating the steel—magic reacting to it, flaring along the edge.
He didn't raise his voice.
"You should get that tone down," he warned.
Megumin smiled. A razor's smile.
"Six."
Aqua's heart smashed against her ribs. "Megumin, STOP! We don't have time for—"
"Five."
She lowered into a hunter's crouch, cloak coiling around her ankles like the wings of a demon.
Serath exhaled once and steadied his stance.
This wasn't an argument.
This was a countdown to death.
Megumin's countdown hit four.
Aqua could feel the moment snap.
Serath moved first.
He slid his thumb across his palm, letting blood drip onto his blade. The steel erupted in black light—corrupted, pulsating, wrong. Power crawled off the weapon like smoke, gathering around him in a violent halo.
Then he whispered, calm and merciless:
"Dark Aura: Blade Strike."
He swung.
The slash wasn't just fast—it *bent* light. A black arc ripped the air apart, the aura snarling as if hungry for flesh.
Megumin's eyes widened for the first time.
She threw herself backward—hands hitting the stone floor, body flipping like a predator escaping a trap. The dark slash carved into the pews behind her, splitting solid oak like wet tissue. Dust exploded upward.
Megumin landed low, one hand bracing on the floor, her cloak splaying around her.
She did not look impressed.
She looked thrilled.
"Interesting."
She snapped her wrist.
Daggers flashed through the air—thin, curved, meant to hit arteries.
Serath met the attack head-on. His blade intercepted every dagger, metal ringing violently, sparks flying. The black aura receded, leaving glowing streaks behind each parry.
"I already told you my intention," Serath growled. "End the threat. End the suffering."
His eyes narrowed at her.
"Your turn. What did you screw up for this *Kazuma* guy?"
The name hit her like a whip.
Megumin froze. Her grip on her remaining knives tightened—not with aggression, but with humiliation.
Aqua stepped in, voice wavering between fear and fury.
"Megumin—look at what you're doing! This isn't a mission. This isn't the Crimson Demon hero I knew."
Megumin didn't look at her.
"I was given one task," she hissed. "One mission. Kazuma entrusted it to me. And I failed."
Her knives lowered a fraction—but her gaze stayed glued to Serath.
"You were never part of this city. You weren't in the registries. You weren't in the Possessor's network. There was no variable like you."
She took a measured breath.
"So when you appeared… everything fell apart."
Serath relaxed his stance just enough to speak.
"Well… looks like you were too obsessed with the 'perfect moment' to think ahead."
He jerked his chin toward Aqua.
"And her. She's your friend?"
The word hit Aqua harder than any blade.
Megumin's expression twitched—just once. A flicker of something raw and buried.
Not hatred.
Regret.
"A friend?" Megumin repeated softly. Her voice nearly cracked. "No. I can't afford those anymore."
Aqua took a single step closer, reaching out.
"Megumin, you don't have to do this. Come back to us. Please."
Megumin finally turned her head toward Aqua.
Her crimson eyes weren't cold anymore.
They were full of exhaustion.
"Aqua… Kazuma is the only future I have left."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, not threatening—desperate.
"If I lose him too, then everything I became will have been for nothing."
Megumin moved before Aqua could even gasp.
Her arm flicked—daggers snapping free like streaks of silver lightning.
Serath raised his blade to counter—
—and the world broke.
Not shattered.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
The daggers froze mid-air, suspended inches from Serath's throat. Dust motes halted where they hung. Even the corrupted aura streaming from Serath's sword became a sculpture in the air—frozen mid-pulse, tendrils of black magic locked in place like ink trapped in crystal.
Aqua was mid-step, her hand reaching toward Megumin, expression caught between horror and heartbreak.
Serath couldn't even blink.
He could only watch.
Footsteps echoed through the petrified chapel.
Slow, measured, almost lazy.
A figure emerged from the shadowed arch, clapping softly as he walked between the motionless bodies and frozen magic.
Kazuma.
Not the awkward idiot.
Not Aqua's dependable anchor.
Not Megumin's first love.
This Kazuma moved like a god wearing a human carcass.
Sharp suit of black and silver.
Eyes glowing that impossible violet — ancient hunger swirling behind bored amusement.
"Beautiful," he said, admiring the still daggers inches from Serath's neck.
"Perfect form. Lethal intention. I couldn't have hoped for a cleaner execution window."
He stopped beside Megumin, studying her frozen posture.
"No hesitation. No doubt. Exactly as I trained you."
He brushed an escaped strand of hair behind her ear.
"I'm proud of you."
When his fingers touched her cheek, time returned to one person.
Megumin inhaled sharply, life flooding back into her eyes.
Her daggers dropped to the stone with a soft clatter.
"Kazuma…" she whispered — awe-struck, breathless, devastated.
"You saw? Did I—did I do well?"
Kazuma smiled as though rewarding a pet.
"Exceptionally. You led Aqua straight here. Exactly where I needed her."
She lit up — radiant, euphoric, love-struck.
He leaned down and pressed a slow kiss to her forehead.
Megumin trembled, drunk on the moment.
"You will be rewarded," he murmured quietly.
"Privately."
Her face flushed scarlet, pupils dilating with adoration so intense it was sickening.
Time remained locked for everyone else.
Only Megumin could move now.
Kazuma slid one hand up her jaw, tilting her face toward him — claiming her mind, her devotion.
"Go wait in my chambers," he said gently.
Megumin obeyed instantly, joy overflowing her voice.
"Yes, my lord."
She vanished through a door hidden behind the altar — so willingly, so worshipfully, the sight made bile rise in Aqua's throat.
Only now did Kazuma turn his gaze to Aqua.
With a wave of two fingers, he walked casually through the frozen air — stepping past Serath like he was just another statue in a gallery.
He crouched before Aqua.
Her eyes were wide with fury and disbelief — but she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream his name.
Kazuma brushed a thumb over her cheek, the gesture horrifyingly intimate.
"You came all this way thinking you'd find Iris."
He leaned closer, voice soft enough to mimic concern.
"Aqua… there is no princess here."
His smile sharpened — cruel, elegant.
"There is only a half-royal."
He tapped Aqua's chin, tilting her frozen face upward.
"We'll discuss who that is in due time."
Then he whispered, breath brushing her ear.