That so-called "Specter of Babel"… what in the world was that?
Why did the Black Snake fragment I attached to that hooded man—the one they call "Doctor"—simply vanish?
No… it didn't just vanish. It died.
It seems this landship, and that faceless figure, are hiding far more secrets than I imagined.
Should I give up?
…No. The rise of these nations is happening far too quickly. Even within Ursus, there are whispers against me. Some have even begun studying methods to counter me… ineffective for now, but the trend is troubling.
There are always lunatics shouting about "slaying gods." Kill one wave, and another rises in its place.
How laughable. How many of them truly act for the good of the masses?
Most only want to seize the throne of divinity for themselves.
Envious of those who live longer. Jealous of those who are wealthier. Hateful of those with greater power.
Such people… can never be eradicated.
…
Fortune favors the bold. If I can seize the Sarkaz King's authority, it will push me one step further, add another trump card to my hand. And even if I fail… all I lose is this vessel.
On this terra, who can survive without ever taking risks?
The Sarkaz King—I will have it.
---
"Hey, have you heard? That guy Satan's been serving free desserts in the cafeteria every afternoon lately."
"I heard! I even tried some… and I've got to say, they tasted amazing."
"Really that good? I want to try too… I heard all you need to do is chat with him a bit—nothing confidential, just everyday talk?"
"Exactly. Honestly, it felt like a normal conversation… but I'll admit, Mister Satan knows a lot, and he's surprisingly witty. Too bad I've already had my turn at afternoon tea. To make sure everyone gets a chance, we take turns."
"So it's really that simple? Just chatting? I mean… isn't he supposed to be some merchant obsessed with 'equivalent exchange'? He really doesn't want anything else?"
"We only talk about ordinary stuff. Of course, anything confidential we keep to ourselves—and Satan never pushes. As for 'equivalent exchange'… well, you know. There's even that group, Satan Seekers, who treat him like a fat sheep to fleece. In the end, the meaning of 'equivalent' lies entirely in his hands. Who knows how he measures value?"
"…Then I guess I'll go?"
"Go, go! If you're late, someone else will snatch the chance."
---
What is this man really after?
From the shadows, Ascalon's patience was wearing thin.
These past few days, Satan hadn't slept a single hour.
And Ascalon refused to hand the surveillance over to anyone else. She insisted on keeping watch herself. With her body's conditioning, a few sleepless nights posed little issue.
But Satan? He carried on as if nothing were amiss—eating, walking, smiling.
Worse still, his appetite was monstrous.
Every afternoon tea filled an entire table with a dazzling spread of Victoria-style pastries and drinks. And every time… he finished them all.
---
[System Notice]
You must sleep at least eight hours a day.
You may occasionally feel slightly full.
---
"Miss Ascalon, are you truly not going to try any?"
With another snap of his fingers, the table once again filled with Victoria-style confections.
As expected, there was no response.
This one's vigilance is far too high… how troublesome.
Satan's gaze drifted toward W, who sat nearby, carefree as ever, stuffing herself without restraint.
If only she were as simple-minded as this fool.
A mercenary like W, hardened by years of harsh living, had rarely—if ever—tasted sweets of this quality.
For the past several days, her only task, assigned by Her Highness, was to escort Satan around Rhodes Island.
And if free food was offered, why not eat her fill?
In truth, Satan had misjudged her.
W was hardly without caution. No matter how delicious, she would never truly let down her guard.
But once—when she had been starving to the brink of death—Satan had shared his food with her.
Though she loathed to admit it, W's wariness toward him was undeniably lower than it should be. Especially when it came to food he offered her.
---
In recent days, Satan had indeed gathered much information.
For instance: Theresa was regarded as a kind and benevolent ruler—or so it seemed, unless those accounts had been shaped by the Sarkaz King's authority.
The one called Doctor had once been nothing more than a scholar… until war had twisted him.
When Satan had chatted with a burly soldier, the man's overwhelming guilt nearly choked the Black Snake fragment lurking within.
There was something vaguely familiar about the man… but only vaguely.
Memory itself had already been digested, distilled into knowledge sufficient for use.
There was no need to obsess over the fragments that might have belonged to a future Black Snake.
From the moment he had acquired that Memory, the future had already diverged.
Kashchey believed it was better to use the knowledge granted by Memory to shape the present, rather than slavishly imitate some fragile vision of the future.
And so, the remnants of those memories were now all but gone.
---
Still, many remained fearful of the "Specter of Babel." Yet even in battle, they continued to obey its orders.
Meanwhile, the spies Theresis had planted within Babel Tower seized their chance over tea with Satan to quietly inform him: the assassination plan had been delayed.
…As expected, Theresis cannot be trusted.
This surprised Kashchey not in the slightest.
A man who valued Kazdel so deeply would never allow the Sarkaz King's power to fall into foreign hands.
It seems I will face enemies on every side.
A faint impatience gnawed at Satan.
He would need to move more quickly.
I may not yet know what that Doctor truly thinks… but the Sarkaz King—I will claim it for myself.
---
"Doctor, from here on… I'll have to trouble you to take care of everyone."
"…"
"…Have I failed their expectations? Am I simply too weak?"
"…No, Your Highness."
"…You must have already guessed Satan's true identity, haven't you? The eternal duke of Ursus—Kashchey, the Deathless Black Snake."
"…"
"As expected of you, Doctor. I only realized after spending several days in his company. It was from the Sarkaz King's agitation… even fury. One of the former Sarkaz Kings was so enraged it tried to reach me through dreams, urging me to strike him down."
"…"
"This war—we've lost, Doctor."
"…No, Your Highness."
Theresa only gave a bitter smile, and said nothing more.
The Doctor, for his part, remained as he always did—without so much as a flicker of emotion.
Not a single one.
---
One duke of Ursus closed his eyes and feigned sleep.
One history teacher requested leave to rest at home.
One scientist declared she would seclude herself in her lab.
---
And Duke Kashchey ordered all citizens into isolation, with food and water delivered to every household in advance.
Only a handful of Happiness and Stability Committee members were left to maintain basic order.
---
From their bodies, Black Snake fragments split away, racing ceaselessly toward Kazdel.
Only a scant few remained behind, lying dormant in their hosts' minds.
"Sarkaz King… Sarkaz King… Sarkaz King…"