Japan, 20th December 2025.
Kochi Prefecture, Enbei Town.
9:15 p.m.
Standing within the halls of Enbei Church were two figures. One was a young man in his late twenties, the other an elderly man in his late sixties. Both were dressed in black robes that blended with the shadows around them.
Moonlight filtered through the stained glass windows, bathing them in pale colors as they spoke. The younger man was the first to break the silence.
"Master Ridilo, are you certain that enough preparations have been made by the organization?"
Ridilo gave him an annoyed look and replied, "Is that why you called me here? You know you could have asked this back at our headquarters."
"I know," the young man said calmly. "But I doubt the other agents would take it kindly if someone as low in the hierarchy as me questioned the organization's efficiency. They would likely have me killed on the spot. Isn't that right?"
"True. They probably would," Ridilo agreed. The organization was exactly that kind of entity. One that eliminated any question capable of making others doubt its authority. After a brief pause, he continued, "As for your question, Ryal, yes. The necessary preparations for the war have been completed. But even so, there may be slips or cracks that remain unseen. Nothing can ever be completely foolproof."
Hearing his master's answer, Ryal slowly nodded.
"Master, there is something else I wish to ask. It is nothing significant. Just a simple question."
"Speak. I will answer it to the best of my ability."
"It is about the war itself."
"Oh?" Ridilo said with slight interest. "Curious about the war, are you? Not surprising. A war like this naturally draws the attention of the young. In truth, anyone would be interested, especially those who know what the winner stands to gain."
"The chance to have one's desire fulfilled, no matter how noble or how depraved it may be," Ryal continued. "That is what the records say. But how true is it?"
"No one truly knows," Ridilo replied. "There have been four wars in total. Yet something occurred between them that prevented any wish from being granted, except in the fourth. Even then, we do not speak of what happened to the winner, nor the details surrounding it."
With a faint look of sadness and disappointment, Ryal spoke again. "I wish more mages were chosen to participate in this war, not only those of high bloodlines."
Only those descended from the greatest mages, or born into powerful bloodlines, were considered eligible. Among them, seven were chosen at random. Upon selection, a mark known as the Summoner's Mark would appear instantly on the back of their hands, signaling the beginning of the war.
These marks allowed the chosen mages to summon the spirits of seven legendary and mythical figures from human history. Through a binding soul contract, the mages gained access to the legendary weapons once wielded by heroes of the past.
"That would be a nightmarish scenario. There is already enough chaos with just seven participants. I cannot imagine the tension and stress that the others and I within the organization would have to endure if more people were chosen."
Ridilo could already picture the overwhelming bureaucracy he would be forced to navigate if such a reality ever came to pass.
"But is it possible," Ryal asked, "for a mage of a weaker bloodline, or even a non mage, to gain access to a Summoner's Mark?"
"It is possible," Ridilo replied, "but the chance is extremely low. It is like trying to find a lost pin in a pile of trash. In the second and third wars, such phenomena did occur. In the second, it was a mage from a weaker bloodline. In the third, a non mage. Both were killed by more powerful mages before they could complete their summoning, and their places in the war were taken."
"Such a shame," Ryal said quietly.
Ridilo rubbed his beard before speaking again. "Now it is my turn to ask a question, my dear disciple."
"Alright, Master."
"Tell me. Who are you, truly?"
"Huh?"
A look of confusion crossed Ryal's face, as he failed to understand what his master meant.
"What do you mean, Master? I am Ryal Forthheart, son of Brylindr, the seventy second new mage recruit, and your disciple."
"That is correct," Ridilo replied calmly. "But it is not the complete truth."
"Not the complete truth?"
"Yes. Because that information belongs to the real Ryal, who has been dead for quite some time."
"The real Ryal?" Ryal shot back. "What are you saying, Master? I am Ryal, and I am certainly not dead."
"Drop the act," Ridilo said coldly. "I found his body. Bisected in half and buried beneath the association's graveyard."
Ryal stared at his master in shock. Slowly, that expression shifted into something far more composed. His eyes narrowed, and a faint smile spread across his face.
"Well," he said lightly, "it seems the cat is out of the basket. How unfortunate. I was starting to enjoy keeping up this act. We even had such a wonderful student teacher dynamic."
Ryal's figure began to change. His body twisted and reshaped itself as his hair grew longer, his frame becoming slender, his waist narrowing, and his chest rising. What had once been a young man now stood as a woman.
"So this is your true form," Ridilo said, giving her an assessing gaze.
"I am Elina Macabre," she replied. "I hope you like what you see."
Elina gave a mocking bow, exaggerated and theatrical.
"I liked you better when you were Ryal," Ridilo said.
"Obviously not," Elina replied with an amused expression. "I know how you looked at him. Or rather, at me. With such lustful and predatory eyes."
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Ridilo snapped.
"Nonsense?" Elina laughed softly. "I am simply stating the truth. Did you really think I would not know about your little secret? About how you abused young men to satisfy your own depraved desires?"
"This is outrageous," Ridilo shouted, then quickly composed himself. "Whatever. It is not as if anyone else will ever find out."
"True," Elina said calmly. "Just as no one will ever find out that I was not Ryal."
"What?"
Elina snapped her fingers.
In an instant, bullets tore through the stained glass windows and pierced Ridilo's body. None struck his head. That was intentional.
She walked toward him as he collapsed. With his dying breath, Ridilo muttered, "The... association will have your... head. Do not think I did not warn my trusted... underling. I told him about you before coming here. He will inform everyone once I am... gone."
"Oh, you mean Jophiel?" Elina replied softly. "I am sorry to crush your hope, but he is already dead."
"How?" Ridilo whispered.
"Let me tell you another secret, old man," Elina said, leaning closer. "I knew that you knew all along."
That was the last thing Ridilo heard before another bullet came rushing through a different window from the opposite side, killing him instantly.