"Let's not. We're not exactly close with the Sons of Calydon. They must be grieving over the loss of one of their own. We really shouldn't go over and add to their troubles right now."
Hearing Kasa's suggestion, Ruby immediately objected.
Crashing a funeral feast for people you barely know was awkward enough—but this was the Outer Ring. No order, no discipline. Who knew what could happen?
Phaga glanced over and noticed Ellen subtly nodding as well. Clearly, she agreed with Ruby.
So without needing much discussion, Phaga looked to the Class President. Both men exchanged a brief nod.
Phaga adjusted his monocle. "It wouldn't be right to bother them. Let's go to the Vanquishers instead—less chance of causing trouble later."
"Yeah... guess so... Ha—"
The Class President let out a long yawn and turned toward the off-roader. "Let's go... But Phaga, you're driving. I was behind the wheel all morning. I'm wiped."
"Sure. But I don't know the roads—you'll have to navigate."
"Ugh, how's that any different from me driving myself?"
"There's a huge difference between a navigator and a driver."
"Fine, fine, you win... Let's just go. Straight to the Vanquishers to talk business."
And so the four of them—plus one black-and-white Bangboo—climbed into the vehicle.
Ellen and Ruby took the backseat. The Class President sat up front. Phaga started the engine, shifted gears, and slammed the accelerator.
Vrrrmm!
The SUV shot forward with a roar, kicking up a trail of yellow dust as it sped off.
...
Meanwhile, in another corner of Blazewood—
Amid a barren stretch of wilderness, colorful bonfires flickered in every direction. The land was desolate, save for a single sofa placed in the center.
Lying on that sofa was a youthful, stunning girl.
She wore a sleeveless jacket, a black long-sleeved T-shirt, and a short skirt—far too thin for the Outer Ring wasteland. Fortunately, the surrounding flames warmed her cheeks, leaving them flushed with a healthy red.
Anyone passing by would have assumed she was just an eccentric girl who enjoyed napping outdoors.
But if Phaga or Ellen were here, they would have been shocked.
Just yesterday, Belle had refused Phaga, claiming she had another commission. Yet here she was, sprawled on a sofa in the Outer Ring.
And not only that—three small Boars Thiren beings stood nearby, faces full of grief, lined up to present wreaths to her.
"The accident... I take part of the blame..."
A sigh drifted across the sandy wasteland as a tall, muscular woman approached slowly, letting out another lament as she neared Belle.
But before long, she seemed to shake off her despair—or perhaps simply gave up on resuscitating Belle. Clenching her fist, she declared with fiery resolve:
"We, the Sons of Calydon, will honor our guest with the highest funeral rites!"
She turned immediately and slapped the shoulder of a handsome young man beside her.
"Lighter—I'm entrusting you with carrying the coffin."
Lighter's spinning lighter froze between his fingers. He looked up, momentarily blank.
But when he saw the unwavering seriousness in her eyes, he instantly understood what kind of "ceremony" she had in mind.
"A heavy responsibility indeed."
He pushed his sunglasses up, perfectly hiding his eyes.
This way, when he covered his mouth later, no one would know he was laughing.
"The hearse driver must keep the ride perfectly smooth..."
Satisfied with Lighter's acceptance, the tall woman nodded, muttering to herself as she walked on. Suddenly, she tilted her head upward.
A truck rested atop a slope. Its driver was a tiny girl with dark circles under her eyes, completely unconcerned with her appearance, lazily scratching her stomach as she leaned against the vehicle half-asleep.
The tall woman called out, "Piper!"
"Yeah, yeah... got it..."
The truck driver—Piper—yawned, waving half-heartedly. "I'll get her there safe and sound..."
Then she toppled sideways and immediately began snoring.
Piper.
Seeing this, the tall woman nodded vigorously.
This was what a true member of the Sons of Calydon should be—dark circles, sleeping on the job, but when it mattered, giving everything they had.
An exemplary employee!
The next moment, she whipped her head to the side again, pressing a heavy hand onto someone's shoulder—her tone full of deep trust.
This one—this was the finest member of all.
"Burnice! For the Burning Rite, it has to be you!"
A blond girl with twin ponytails had already been practically vibrating with anticipation. When the tall woman turned to her, Burnice's eyes sparkled with uncontrollable excitement.
As the heavy hand settled on her shoulder, granting her this noble task, Burnice's heart flooded with blazing fervor.
"Oh~!!!"
She spun in exhilaration, the twin flamethrowers in her hands tracing a ring of fire that expanded with her wild enthusiasm.
She practically bounced with excitement. "So—just burn everything clean, right?"
"Exactly! We must burn every last trace of our guest—Legendary Proxy Phaethon. Not a single one of her precious organs should be left behind!"
The tall woman nodded solemnly, as if all had been decided.
But... something felt off.
What was it?
Ah—of course.
They still needed Lucy's support. You couldn't conduct a funeral without the Sons of Calydon's head steward.
So the tall woman turned her head and instinctively called out:
"Lucy—"
But no answer came.
A moment later, a motorcycle burst out from a corner, carrying two girls.
One was persuaded to jump off early. The bike roared forward, and just as it neared the tall woman, it tilted flat. The remaining girl soared upward, shouting at the top of her lungs:
"Caesar—can you PLEASE be reliable for once!?"
"Lucy?"
Lucy didn't listen. She swung her baseball bat down from the sky.
Lucy.
The tall woman didn't panic at all. She smoothly drew a small round shield from her waist and raised it.
Wham!
Caesar blocked the strike with ease. To avoid hurting Lucy, she stepped back, grinning sheepishly.
"Heheh—don't be mad! Isn't this our chance to finally indulge in a Burning Rite?"
Caesar.
"You can't just use a guest as an excuse to indulge!"
Lucy roared, gritting her teeth as she stared at Caesar's naturally innocent, infuriatingly clueless expression.
Left with no choice, Lucy turned sharply. Burnice was still twirling her flamethrowers.
"Burnice!"
Burnice froze. "Huh?"
"Put the flamethrowers away right now—ugh, this is infuriating!"
Every one of them was hopeless. Poor steward Lucy could only stomp the ground, wailing in despair.
"What... is this situation?"
Belle scratched her head, baffled.
Lighter turned toward her in surprise. "Oh—Proxy, you're awake?"
"Yeah. The moment Caesar started talking about making sure none of my organ would feel lonely... I basically woke up."
Belle drooped her eyes and sighed.
What even WAS all this...
She stood and took a few steps, scanning the area.
Then something green caught her eye.
"Eh...?"
A twin-tailed green-haired girl jolted at the sound. She rushed over, bowing frantically.
"H-Hello! Nice to meet you! I'm Corin—new bartender and server of the Sons of Calydon! P-Please take care of me!"
Corin bowed again, swallowing nervously.
Oh no. Oh no. It's Miss Proxy—why is she here!?
I spent so long gathering intel... pretending to "accidentally" meet Lucy in the Hollow... and after all that effort to get brought back—don't tell me it was all for nothing!?
Belle blinked, confused why Corin suddenly seemed not to recognize her.
Was it because she'd always seen Eous instead of Belle's actual body?
But their voices were the same...
Did Corin... forget her?
Ouch. But wait—Corin was trembling.
As a legendary proxy, Belle's observational skills were sharp. She instantly caught the subtle shaking—fear, not nerves.
Could it be—
Her eyes lit up in realization.
Corin must be undercover. She should help her.
Thump, thump.
Footsteps interrupted her thoughts.
Belle turned quietly. Lighter had walked over.
He looked between Corin and Belle, puzzled. After a moment of contemplation, he asked:
"Proxy—do you two know each other?"