Major Premise (3)
As the carriage moved down Alog Street, Shirone fixed his gaze on the view outside the window.
Lupist stared at him without blinking, and Plu, sitting beside him, swallowed hard.
'I can't bring myself to ask that.'
They had been comrades in arms, but from now on Lupist had to speak as Tormia's representative.
Lupist said, "Soon the Holy Order will be reorganized."
"...I understand."
Shirone didn't turn his head.
"That means the balance among the Three Sovereign Realms will shift. The elemental bomb technology will be monopolized by Tormia. Of course, that's assuming the Grand Marshal of the Holy Order honors the agreement."
'Iruki…'
Originally the deal had been to hand over the elemental bomb's secrets in exchange for providing the flower fields.
"But things changed subtly when you protected Bashka. In the end, if you don't consent, the Grand Marshal won't carry out the treaty."
That was the crux.
Plu folded her hands politely and waited for Shirone's answer.
'I can't beg her to do it.'
They were close like siblings, but affection didn't count when humanity's safety and the nation's future were at stake.
Shirone spoke.
"If it's the elemental bomb technology, that's doable. Kashan, Jincheon, and Gustaf won't be able to wield their old strength like before. Are you planning to push one of them out?"
"No."
Lupist leaned forward.
"That's when the balance of power was even. I intend to raise Tormia to the position of the foremost nation."
Ambitious, yes, but from Tormia's view this was an opportunity they could not pass up.
"Of course, only if the Ivory Tower recognizes it."
If the Five Great Stars of the Unified Universe Administration give their approval, even other worlds would feel the weight of it.
"We'll entrust you with the elemental bomb. If Iruki has decided, I have no intention of opposing it."
It sounded like easy consent, but Plu realized he had drawn a hard line.
'He won't give the kingdom any more power than that. It's a win, but…'
There was an unavoidable regret.
Above all, the fairies and dragons Shirone commanded had once been a military force under the Holy Order's second king.
"Sis."
Plu snapped back from her thoughts and looked up to find Shirone smiling.
"Sorry."
Plu smiled and shook her head.
"No, I should be sorry."
When you obsess over one thing, you sometimes forget what truly matters.
Shirone was Shirone — since they first met at the Magic Association, he'd never once disappointed her. A good younger brother.
"Come to think of it, you've grown. I remember you stumbling because you lacked presence just the other day."
"Ha! You were strict too, sis. You're chief secretary now, after all."
Memories flowed between them without pause.
"Hmm."
Not fully satisfied, Lupist nevertheless closed his eyes and made no further demands.
"Oh, right! The convocation of the Five Great Houses?"
"Yes, remember? So when we left, you sneakily high‑fived—"
What really mattered was already theirs.
Alog Square and the four avenues radiating east, west, south, and north were packed with people.
"Tormia! Long live Tormia!" It was unusual for a king to be replaced in a single day, but the citizens weren't as shocked as one might expect.
Perhaps it felt reassuring that decisive change was being pursued amid a tangled world situation.
Most procedures were done; only the moment when Adolf XIII would hand over the crown remained.
Pony knelt, head bowed, while Adolf XIII took off his crown and stepped forward.
'I, I…'
Though he had accepted it, something hot rose from deep inside him.
'Why me?'
Decades of waiting to be king flashed through his mind.
He had finally become king, and now, after a single day, he had to hand everything to Pony, the lowest ranked in the direct line.
"Your Majesty?"
The crown hovered over Pony's head for a long moment, wobbling faintly.
"Your Majesty."
The administrator's second call had an edge to it.
The longer it dragged on, the more suspicion would grow among the people — and that was not the picture Lupist wanted.
Adolf XIII loosened his hands, and the crown brushed Pony's face before clattering to the ground. The clear ring of metal, caught by the hush, echoed to the far end of Alog Street.
"Nonsense—"
Adolf XIII ground his teeth.
"Don't spout nonsense!"
The assembled citizens looked on in shock as he shouted, losing his composure.
"This is fraud! I am the most noble of the royal line! Why should I be led around by these people?"
Shirone and his party watching below the platform stirred uneasily.
Nade said, "At this rate, he'll break." Iruki said, "It's the so‑called king's rage. He tried to hold on in his own way, but this is his limit."
Adolf XIII glared at Shirone's group.
"Do not be deceived, people! These are the ones who dropped the bomb over Bashka! You're being toyed with!"
From behind the platform, Lupist nodded to Plu.
"Take care of him."
It was the agreed cue. Plu gripped the Phoenix Blade and set a lethal look in her eyes.
"This crown is mine! I was born to be king — I am Adolf… ughhhh!"
As Adolf XIII lunged to throw the fallen crown onto his head, he suddenly let out a monstrous cry.
Plu, about to move, froze, and Shirone's gaze went puzzled.
'What is this?'
At first they thought it an ambush, but no magic could fool his sight.
"It hurts! Ugh! My head, my head…!" Adolf XIII rolled on the ground clutching his head, abandoning even a king's dignity. Then he gripped his chest.
"A knife, a blade! I can feel a blade stabbing in!"
Like watching a play that wasn't part of reality, the crowd was dumbstruck.
And then, in the next moment—
"Aaaaaah!"
With someone's piercing scream, people began collapsing, rolling on the ground in chaos.
"It hurts! My whole body hurts!"
The instant instinct told them something was wrong, the same pain struck Shirone and his companions.
"Guh!"
Shirone finally realized.
When he drew breath, his throat felt as if it were being torn apart, and his lungs felt like they were on fire.
'It's not magic. Something more fundamental…'
A kind of system.
Looking around, not only his friends but also Miro and Sein and even Gangnan were writhing in agony.
While everyone in the square rolled on the ground, only one person remained standing.
'Mr. Gaold.'
Only Gaold seemed unaffected; he wore a solemn, almost pitying expression.
As the pop of jet bursts sounded, Minerva landed in front of Shirone. Supporting Taesung, her face was likewise slightly contorted with pain.
"You're awake."
As Shirone approached, Taesung freed himself from Minerva's support and took a step.
"Shirone, it's a demonic realm. Paimon's demonic realm has opened."
"Paimon?"
Wasn't he supposed to have been melted by Agape's light?
"He resurrected by a hair's breadth. It's my fault. If he hadn't lost consciousness—"
Shirone shook his head.
"It's not Taesung's fault. Even if he'd been conscious, it would've been hard to detect."
It was the same dilemma as an angel's downward gaze.
"Gather Rian and everyone. I'll tell you how to remove the demonic realm."
That was the right move, but Shirone's party was thrashing in pain.
"What kind of demonic realm is it?"
"Paimon's demonic realm is a disease — a sickness not found on planets. Its name is Emotion Sickness. It's a terrible illness that adjusts pain according to the scale of one's emotions."
"The scale of emotion?"
Taesung looked over the people and explained.
"The human body reacts specifically to the mind. Heart rate, brain waves, hormones — everything changes. Emotion Sickness lies dormant in the pituitary gland and activates when the body reaches a certain state. Simply put, when someone loves something, their pain threshold skyrockets, and when that object is removed, they stabilize."
As she finished, the twisted expression on Shirone's face smoothed.
"...I understand."
"How did you do it, Shirone?"
"I killed it."
Shirone looked around at his friends. "I killed a little of the air."
"But that's something only I can do. Because I can love even worthless air with the same weight."
He'd reached a state of absolute universal love.
Even the act of taking the air away with a breath — to Shirone it carried the same weight as killing a person.
"A person kept alive by an oxygen respirator could use a method like mine. But that only works if it's done with universal love…"
"So you have to stop breathing. It's like cutting the air itself out of your heart."
"Yes. It'll be hard, but for now, kill something. Something you hold dear."
The moment he spoke, a chill ran down Shirone's spine.
'I see.'
It was truly a horrific disease.
Meanwhile, Shirone's friends, taking his hint, began devising their own ways.
"Done."
Iruki was the first to break free.
"What did you kill?"
"The Holy Order's Grand Marshal."
A kind of mental assassination.
"Oh."
People carry many things they consider precious through life.
Choosing the Holy Order's Grand Marshal was typical of Iruki — but then again—
'Even if it weren't Iruki.'
What else could one kill?
Perhaps thinking the same, resolve glinted in Nade and Amy's eyes.
"Phew, I'm done too."
They each renounced the positions they treasured: the headship of Nade's faction and the commander's rank of the First Valkyrie Corps.
One by one, people were freed from the agony, and Adolf XIII wailed through tears.
"Uaaaaah! Save me! It hurts! It hurts!" Though not thrashing wildly, Pony's pain was little different.
'I can't give up the king. I can't let him go.'
Even with methods to ease Emotion Sickness, Shirone's friends faced a different dilemma.
'If I give up the king, Shirone loses one means to lead the nation.'
So what could they possibly sacrifice?
"Your Majesty! Renounce your royal authority! Then the pain will cease!"
Most of the administrators used Iruki's method.
Frankly, it was easy.
If the alternative was constantly swallowing glass dust instead of air, anyone would forgo a career.
But the weight of kingship was different.
"All right, I give up! I'm not king! I renounce it! So— my—"
Adolf XIII's eyes widened and he clutched at his throat.
"Gahhh! It hurts! Worse!"
"You can't just shout it! You must truly, sincerely renounce it!"
"Uaaaaaaah!"
Watching that horrific spectacle, Shirone's group understood another terrifying aspect of Emotion Sickness.
'You must cut it out completely.'
That meant as the disease progressed, a person's character would inevitably change.
What would remain at the end?
"Huuuugh!"
Kneeling on one knee, Miro ground her teeth and endured.
'I won't give up anything.'
She had already cast off everything except extremes and what she had chosen, so there was nothing left to renounce.
'The pain keeps climbing.'
With every heartbeat her chest felt like it would be torn apart; her lungs burned so much that even the next breath was frightening.
"Miro, give up even one thing!"
Gangnan's voice faded and cold sweat formed beads and fell.
'This is beyond pain. Being alive itself is hell…'
Miro finally understood.
'This is like…'
The face of a certain man flashed through her mind.
"You're struggling a lot, aren't you?"
Looking up painfully from the shadow on the ground, Miro saw the only person not suffering from Emotion Sickness—no, someone so deeply trapped in a ghastly pain of his own that he didn't register theirs.
"You…"
Gaold looked at Miro with a pitying gaze.