"I love you."

With those words of love that go beyond superficiality, it feels as if the world is being transformed.

"――――"

In reality, it's not that there's an 'actual sound' resonating.
The sound of something cracking, something being smashed, something being torn, something being ripped, something being cut open, something being crushed, something being shattered, something being splintered, something being gouged out, something being thrown down, something――.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

In reality, it's not that there's an 'actual sound' resonating.
Yet, the love being offered from that dark shadow feels like an act of invasion toward the very soul at the center of this world, to the point of the illusion of hearing the 'sound' of everything being lost.

A world where everything is being swallowed up.
A world where everything becomes submerged in an unfathomable darkness, continually falling.
In that seemingly infinitely deep darkness, the soul realizes that everything important and not, everything, has melted away.
And still――,

Is it because of weakness that one does not want to accept it? ――No, it's because of kindness.
Is it because of weakness that one cannot give up? ――No, it's because of kindness.

Is it because of weakness that one cannot refuse love? ――No, it's because of kindness.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

In response to the persistent whisper of love, a voice of strong rejection is raised.
But, it's obvious. You end up understanding. This voice of strong rejection isn't entirely able to refuse.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

In that, one catches a glimpse of possibility.
Even if the first, second, and third places in that person's heart are occupied, one catches a glimpse.
The desire to take advantage of it with cowardly and shallow love is something one does not want to empathize with.

The ultimate destination of such self-centeredness is always――,

"I love you. I love you. ――Love me"

――See, it's come to that.

"Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me――love me."

He knew it would come to that. It was as clear as if he could grasp it in his hand. It was more obvious than seeing a fire. It was as simple as twisting a baby’s hand. It was easier than squeezing a tomato, or opening closed eyelids, or breathing in and out.

He knew it would come to that. Because it’s not for the sake of the other person. Because it’s for his own sake. If he didn’t have to think about the other person, if he could fill his head and heart with only thoughts of himself, it would come to that.

Even though that is the most embarrassingly shameful thing that makes his face feel like it's on fire.

"――I hate you."

――He felt like his heart froze.

“I will never love you."

――He felt like he might die because it was as if someone had said that not to anyone else, but to himself.

But even such terrifying fear that threatened to overwhelm him was, compared to what awaited behind, much much much, much much much, easier. Because――,

“Petra’s handkerchief...?”

――He had the conviction, as if a noose was placed around his neck, that the moment had come.

△▼△▼△▼△

――A welcoming group of approximately five hundred people.

It was the troublesome formation Felt had prepared to strike against Aldebaran. Naturally, from the moment he let Felt survive, it was expected that Aldebaran's betrayal would be conveyed to Reinhard, and that he would rush over. It was obvious that, along that course, the same information would be shared with Felt and the Council of Wise Men.

In order to eliminate such obvious formidable enemies, Aldebaran intended to clear his path even by using his greatest asset, 'Aldebaran', as his trump card. That plan was overturned by the unexpectedly proactive actions of the underestimated girl.

"Seriously, there are just too many star players in the world with whom I don't stand a chance."

"This is no time for joking around!" Aldebaran muttered as he shrugged his shoulders, only to be shouted at by Heinkel—no, Heinkel's outburst was actually directed at Yae, not Aldebaran. His angry shout about Yae's proposed scapegoat plan coincidentally overlapped with Aldebaran's grumble. Nonetheless—

"Like he said, this is no time for joking around. Let's deal with it."

With a firm expression under his helmet, Aldebaran pushed aside his lamentations about the absurdity of the world, called over his two companions, and began discussing their strategy. There was a pale-faced Heinkel and Yae, who wore an inscrutable faint smile. Aldebaran, lacking talent, felt these two were their main assets displayed on their cards.

"We're a bit weak, but they're not at their best either."

"But how do you plan to deal with it? To begin with, the enemy is..."

"The enemy numbers are roughly five hundred. They're more like thugs than knights or guards, but they’re used to violence. And there's no doubt the enemy is Miss Felt."

"Wow, five hundred. That's quite a number."

Yae, with a finger on her lips, expressed admiration, likely for having gathered such a number in a short period. Aldebaran completely agreed with her, as assembling this setup must have taken nearly optimal moves and strategies.

"Wait, wait, wait! Five hundred!? And they're not soldiers? What's going on? And anyway, how do you know this information?"

"Stop right there, old man. How I know their numbers doesn't matter. What matters is that this is all true. Besides, remember the promise you made at the start?—'If you want the Dragon's Blood, you won't go against my direction.'"

"Uh..."

"You're really going to be disliked if you can't keep your promises."

Heinkel, though clearly filled with dissatisfaction, remained silent after being warned. His situation was like a horse running with a carrot dangled in front of its face. Unlike the horse, Heinkel's desire couldn't be satisfied with just any carrot; it had to be that particular one. That’s why Heinkel couldn’t rebel against Aldebaran, who held the carrot.

"So, now that He's quiet, what shall we do? Dealing with five hundred is quite tough, you know?"

"Aren't you the best shinobi product from Vollachia? Can't you do something about it?"

"Even if it's called a masterpiece, the assassination was a failure, right? Besides, it's not a ninja's job to cut down hundreds or thousands on the battlefield. It's not like we're 'The Blue Lightning'."

"Well, that's true."

Cecilus, known as "The Blue Lightning" mentioned in Yae's pouty remarks, had also spent a short time with Aldebaran. His ability was as Yae had spoken in her jokes and analogies, an inexplicable outlier of the same caliber as Reinhard. If he had power like that, he could indeed break through a thousand opponents head-on, but, unfortunately, Aldebaran had abandoned such high ambitions in his teenage years. Therefore—

"Realistically speaking, walking straight into where five hundred people are waiting is something a fool would do. Since we have the forest here... we’ll circle around to avoid being spotted."

Given the tone of the voice, it was unlikely they could pretend not to be home. However, if the enemy knew precisely where Aldebaran and his group were, they should have launched a surprise attack with Grassis. Since that hadn't happened, they might know they were in the forest, but not more than that. In that case, depending on their maneuvers, they could further divide the five hundred enemies—

"Ah, Lord Al, this might be bad."

Just before they were about to move from that spot, having set their plan, Yae tugged on his sleeve. When Aldebaran turned around to see what the matter was, she was looking towards where Felt's group was prepared, eyes filled with caution, and she spoke.

"It seems like the other side is moving much faster."

Following Yae's gaze, Aldebaran also saw the same thing. Logs trailing white smoke were being thrown into the forest one after another.

△▼△▼△▼△

"Well, I wasn't really expecting them to come out, but still."

In the middle of a group spread out on the plain, Felt grumbled while glaring at the forest where the enemy hid. She was still somewhat hesitant to call these helmeted individuals "enemies". However, Al wasn't a rampaging friend or companion, nor was he a person she had a deep connection with. Above all, for the sake of rallying the morale of the gathered men, it was more convenient to call them enemies.

Therefore, Felt clearly declares Al, the helmeted punk, as an enemy. And that enemy is within the woods that Felt and her group have surrounded.

"That's right, isn't it? Otherwise, I'm just an embarrassing person shouting greetings into an empty forest."

"Ha ha ha, stand tall, 'Golden Lion.' Indeed, it only works with one eye. Even so, if you narrow the area down this much, it will become visible whether you want to see it or not."

Responding to Felt with a somewhat distinctive accent was a man named Manfred Madison, the leader of 'The Scales.' 'The Scales' apparently have a custom of tattooing the scales of balance on some part of their body as a symbol of loyalty to the organization, but Manfred has excessively demonstrated his allegiance. He has tattoos on his shaved head, face, neck, and even on his eyeballs; it's likely that under his clothes, he is completely covered in them. And his peculiarity is not just in appearance—it's also in his way of being.

"—'Blessing of Far Sight'"

Manfred's left eye—with the only visible eyeball devoid of tattoos—rolled and stared intently into the forest. Until recently, that left eye had housed a tattooed eyeball. The reason it no longer does is simple—the eyeball itself is different. Now, the eyeball Manfred has inserted was previously the left eye of a man who was once his subordinate—

"Indeed, another person's blessing doesn't quite fit right. But, I saw it."

"That's a handy but super gross trick. How do you do it?"

"I don't mind your blunt remarks. However, the method of stealing blessings is a secret of 'The Scales.'"

Without touching upon that method itself, Manfred confirms the presence of the enemy in the forest. Felt, who previously suffered from that 'Blessing of Far Sight,' has no doubt in believing the information it provides.

"If they won't come out..."

"We'll just have to make them want to come out."

Cracking his thick neck, Old Man Rom adds to Felt's words. The grand strategist, who had devised a plan to make the most of Manfred's incomplete 'Blessing of Far Sight,' also had another move ready against their opponent holed up in the forest. That is—

The living wood of the Pyro Tree is hard to burn out and produces a lot of smoke. Even when drenched with water, it won't easily stop emitting smoke. This plan is perfect," Old Man Rom said, his proposal was simple and clear—to smoke out Al.

Led by the brawny Gaston and the rowdy men, logs from the Pyro Tree, set on fire, were thrown into the forest one after another. As Old Man Rom had said, the logs only produced smoke without spreading fire, creating a thick white smoke that filled the area.

"The power of the smoke doesn't just rob vision. It causes psychological strain, and worst of all, is the pain when inhaled."

"Coughing makes it seriously tough, doesn't it?"

"Indeed, it's like the torment of hell. Moreover—"

As he spoke, Grandpa Rom squinted his eyes. Ahead, Camberley and his girlfriend, the proprietress of 'Hana-goku-en', Toto, were instructing their subordinates to send a magically conjured wind through the forest. The wind created didn’t blow away the trees but softly caressed the gaps between them, forming a path for the wind—creating a path for the smoke, allowing the white smoke to spread throughout the forest.

"As far as I know, there are not many who can ignore poison or severe injuries. But I've never known anyone in my unnecessarily long life who could endure the torment of being smoked out without faltering," Old Man Rom said in a low voice as he watched the progress of his plan unfold.

Felt listened comfortably, once again realizing how exceptionally dangerous the knowledge her adoptive parent possessed was.

Felt didn't know what Old Man Rom had done in the past. But she understood that it was not a story to proudly share with one's chest puffed out and that Old Man Rom himself felt bitter about it. Therefore, until Old Man Rom chooses to speak about it himself, Felt doesn't ask. Instead, she simply declares:

"How about it? My Old Man Rom is formidable, isn't he?"

△▼△▼△▼△

"—Smoke"

Watching as the logs, emitting white smoke, slowly began to invade the forest, Aldebaran marveled at the opponent's unpleasant adaptability. Being surrounded by a large number of people was bad enough, but this was a consecutive string of worst-case scenarios.

"They've set us on fire! They're planning to burn us alive!"

"Calm down. A fire attack makes it impossible to confirm the bodies, and they might get caught in it themselves. It's a silly plan and a poor strategy when combined."

"They might have used that poor strategy! They're kids from the slums! People from there don't think ahead!"

"Oh, Al-sama!"

"I get it! Dad, please be quiet for a moment!"

As the engulfing smoke eroded the little remaining calmness, Aldebaran forcibly reprimanded the panicking Heinkel into silence. Driven by his desire for 'Dragon's Blood,' Heinkel couldn't go against Aldebaran. However, it wouldn't be fair to treat his panic in a critical situation as mere complaints or objections.

"I agree with Yae—it’s likely a smoke attack, not a fire attack. The problem is, there's no way to endure a smoke attack. Yae, what about you?"

"Endure the smoke, you ask? Impossible, impossible. Even with poison endurance training or torture countermeasures, once you breathe in smoke, there's no training that stops you from tearing up and coughing."

"Right? So, we have no choice but to escape from the smoke."

To avoid being suffocated by the smoke, no other conclusion can be drawn. The issue, however, is that this aligns with the enemy's intentions. Naturally, whether it's a fire attack or a smoke attack, it’s human instinct to flee from imminent danger. And the unnatural wind pushing through the smoke is the intangible hunter driving Aldebaran and the others with smoke—

"I thought even with five hundred, they couldn’t surround the whole forest...!"

Smoke for smoldering and wind to guide that smoke. With just that, they could herd even a small group like Aldebaran’s or a certain size military force to a targeted position. That's how Felt completed the encirclement of the forest that five hundred couldn’t fully encompass.

"Or rather, the brains behind the operation are the issue. Damn it, they've really done it."

Clicking his tongue in frustration, Aldebaran conjures a mental map of the world. His destination lies far to the west from here—a full day has already been spent on rest and travel, reducing his limit from seven days to six. He cannot afford to be hindered by Felt here, nor engage in a prolonged battle.

"Al-sama!"

"—Yae, give directions for the wind flow! Old man, follow Yae's instructions and lead the way! You can cut down any obstructive trees!"

"Got it."

"Your response is too quiet!"

"Got it!!"

Pressured by Aldebaran's sharp instructions, Heinkel shouted in desperation. Following Yae's directions, Heinkel cleared a path with his unsheathed sword. As he followed that sturdy back, Aldebaran pondered.

With such a significant move, resetting the domain is necessary. However, updating the matrix means losing the way back before this smoke operation is executed. At the very least, when Aldebaran left the forest of his own volition, Felt didn't carry out the smoke suffocation plan. Of course, that would involve a direct collision with five hundred men.

"Which is better?"

Ultimately, Aldebaran's victory is assured. There is no one on this earth who can triumph over Aldebaran, who has suppressed even the "Sword Saint" Reinhard van Astrea and rendered Natsuki Subaru powerless. Hence, Aldebaran's victory is absolute. The question is what to seek beyond victory.

Which choice holds a higher possibility of achieving that aim beyond victory?

"Al-sama, if you let him go alone, Heinkel-sama will die, you know?"

"...Right. Let's go!"

Pondering for just a moment, Aldebaran nodded at Yae's call and started running. Simultaneously, he updated the matrix and redefined it—establishing the next starting point, he casually discarded his lingering attachment to the previous possibilities.

Life is a series of choices. That's true for anyone, not just Aldebaran. Many choices are made in an instant, and the unchosen options are often not reconsidered. But that's fine. Aldebaran, as much as possible, does the same.

What to have for breakfast tomorrow. Whether to put on the right sock or the left sock first. He treats these insignificant choices on the same level as decisions made in life-or-death battles. There's no point in clinging to the choices not made or options not chosen.

Both Aldebaran and Natsuki Subaru merely have more opportunities than others to cling to their choices. If they don't accept that, they'll continue to stagnate forever.

"Heinkel-sama, the footing is getting worse, please move to the right. And that big tree too, if you would."

"Don't just say it so easily! Damn it!"

"Whoa, amazing! As expected, you're strong against anything that's not alive!"

Despite following orders to cut down the big tree, Heinkel is somehow mocked and grinds his teeth. Watching his profile, Aldebaran sees the density of the smoke gradually increasing—as the wind begins to trap them in smoke. In other words—

"A surprise attack is near."

△▼△▼△▼△

Led by the ambush unit, Rachins takes position at the forest exit.

Honestly, he feels overwhelmed and wants to scream that he's been given a role too heavy for him. The fact that his life has crossed paths with figures like the 'Sword Saint,' the 'Divine Dragon,' and the 'Witch of Envy' feels like a nightmare to Rachins.

"Damn it... where did my life take such a wrong turn?"

Clawing at his head and letting the endless stream of complaints flood around him, Rachins irritably crushes the weeds underfoot. It was a fit of rage, but to his annoyance, the weeds, even as they are ground against by Rachins, simply bend with flexible stems without breaking or tearing. Rather, they seem to push back against Rachins’ soles, asserting their vitality.

Truly, it's a brazenly tenacious manner found only in weeds—seeing this, Rachins feels like he's surrounded by familiar faces and sighs.

Before he knew it, he'd wandered quite a distance. But no matter where the seeds scatter in the wind and take root, weeds remain weeds. Even if the color of the leaves or the thickness of the stems changes somewhat, weeds will never transform into trees or flowers.

"Damn it, no matter where I am, I can only live my own way, huh?"

Although no one had actually said it to him, Rachins felt as if everyone had, and he clicked his tongue in irritation. However, his tongue-click lacked the gloomy and contrary tone it had before. What remained was the burden of a considerable nuisance that had been thrust upon him, and the determination to see it through. With a sort of defiant acceptance out of the way—

"—Hey, there's been movement."

The one who raised his voice was one of the roughnecks stationed on the plains with Rachins. They were members of Flanders’ underworld, similar to Gaston, Camberley, and Rachins—no, perhaps even purer criminals than them. Though standing shoulder to shoulder with them seemed unlikely, their familiarity with violence made them reliable here.

Rachins, prompted by their reaction, turned his gaze to the forest. If everything went according to plan, the helmeted guy and their companions would be driven out by smoke from there. Overwhelming them with sheer numbers was the plan for Rachins and his—

"—woah."

The next moment, it wasn't the helmeted guy that burst out from the forest. It was a cannonball. No—that wasn't accurate. More precisely, it was a large tree hurled with such force it spun vertically as it closed in on Rachins’ position like a cannonball.

"——"

The trunk was thicker than Gaston's body and more than ten meters long—a truly menacing projectile aiming straight for the heart of the camp. Seeing this, the roughnecks cried out, scrambling to escape. However—

"—El Goa!"

With a bang, an explosion echoed in the sky, and against the blue backdrop, a bright red flower of fire bloomed. This shattered the incoming tree into countless pieces, reducing the impact it would have had on the camp from a catastrophic blow to merely a painful scattering of fragments. The one responsible for this feat was Rachins, who had pointed a finger skyward.

"Don't you guys get scared! In times like these, the one who gets scared loses! Haven't you been told this all the time!"

With a shout to those who had become hesitant, Rachins drew the knife from his waist. Pointing its blade toward the forest, he looked around and said, "Alright?"

Honestly, as he had been troubled, the roughnecks' attitude toward Rachins, who was tasked with managing the situation, was disrespectful. Now, he would dispel that.

"You can see from what just happened that we're the ones who hit the jackpot! Any moment now, those helmeted bastards will come out from there. We can't afford to—"

Just before he could finish saying there was "no time to waste," a voice shouted, "Hey!!," and the roughnecks' gazes shifted away from him again. Annoyed by this, Rachins furrowed his brows angrily and faced forward.

More and more massive trees, the same caliber as before or even bigger, came flying at them.

"Damn it!!"

Immediately after the curse, many fire flowers bloomed in the sky, and the misses blew their camp apart. Amidst the chaos and while watching several roughnecks getting thrown away, Rachins clicked his tongue and pointed his knife toward the forest again. The situation had changed rapidly. If they continued to obtain ammunition locally like this, it was Rachins and his group's side that would be at their mercy.

"——Let's go, don't fall behind!!"

Rachins shouted with such force that his voice almost broke, raising a roar as he charged in. In doing so, he stimulated battle spirit—not his own, but that of those around him.

It's a common tale, but in any brawl of roughnecks, getting hit first is a bad move.

Oddly enough, the moment they get hit, even the most violent person's strength diminishes. The notion that the more injured and the more blood they spill, the stronger they become is just an impression; in reality, the more hits one takes, the weaker they become. This is true for morale as well. Right now, Rachins and his company had been unexpectedly hit first. They needed to overwrite that reduction in morale with momentum. And so—,

"Whoa!! Keep going!!"

The hot-blooded fellows are simple, so they are quickly inspired by Rachins' emotional voice.

Chasing fiercely after Rachins, who led the charge, they advanced into the forest with weapons in hand, drawing closer, closer, closer. Feeling them at his back, Rachins continued to support this with his theatrical flair—,

"——Al Goa!!"

With his hand reaching toward the sky, Rachins chants in a voice like blood is being spilled. In an instant, what appeared above his head was a huge, enormous fireball—fire attribute magic of the Goa series, its power ascending from the base to El, Ul, and the pinnacle being Al. 

Those with even the slightest knowledge about magic know this, but just the fact that Rachins chanted it and produced a massive fire is a noteworthy achievement. 

With a cheer, the morale of the roughs noticeably rises, and Rachins, as if to propel it further, floats the fireball above his head into the sky, purposely sending it soaring high. Naturally, aiming at that, the next wave of fallen trees from within the forest targets the fireball. No matter how many trees are incinerated, they aim to obstruct that fireball—

"Fools" 

With a decorated tongue at the tip, Rachins sticks it out and taunts the eager enemy. As many shells as they like were launched from the forest, but most resulted in misses. This is because, with the very first shot, the dummy that only looked like Al Goa, stretched flat and extinguished, was shattered, and the remaining ammunition only futilely gouged the plains.

All of this was to exhaust the enemy's ammunition on intercepting the fake Al Gore, minimizing the damage from attacks raining down on Rachins and the roughs.

The plan worked, and Rachins and his comrades burst into the forest all at once.

"The initial barrage did reduce their numbers somewhat...!"

However, thanks to Rachins' support, the fifty-man band of roughnecks charged in almost unscathed. Just like that—

"—Oh dear, Heinkel-sama, you rushed and let them get on board, didn't you?"

At the moment he heard that sweet and carefree female voice, Rachins' feet came to a halt. His whole body was overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding, causing him to stop in his tracks—no, that wasn’t it. He was indeed overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding, but it wasn’t of his own will that he stopped.

Suddenly, he lost all freedom of movement. And it wasn't just Rachins. The fifty roughnecks who charged into the forest with him were all simultaneously affected. The one who did this was—

"No matter how good I am at handling one-against-many, there are limits to what I can do, really.”

The red-haired woman looked down at Rachins and his group, who had stopped, from between the trees.

A slender woman in a maid outfit with a slightly Wahoo motif was watching the men, whose movements were immobilized, and who were voicing confusion and anger—in midair.

The woman's figure was high up among the trees. However, she did not use the trunks or branches as her footing. Standing upright in the empty space, she was smiling as she watched Rachins and his group who were unable to move.

Rachins realized this while confirming it by moving his neck and eyeballs, which barely moved.

"I can bind about a hundred people at once, you know?"

Despite the extraordinary skill of her combat techniques, it's more than her bad personality that makes her accompany the helmeted man they are supposed to defeat.

△▼△▼△▼△

The attack should be called a felled tree cannon, utilizing the trees Heinkel cut down.

Without the extraordinary mana of the 'Divine Dragon', it required using a kind of bold strategy incomparable to making fried rice with existing ingredients.

"Really, Lord Al treats me harshly, you know. It's an abusive combination of the words 'harsh' and 'use'."

With the cooperation of Yae, who couldn't help but insert complaints here and there, Heinkel floated several large trees he had cut down in the air, preparing a launch platform.
And for the actual launch, they mobilized all of Aldebaran's scientific knowledge—

"Oyaji-san, pull your arm as hard as you can in sync with my signal. As hard as you can."

"Not just that woman, I have thoughts about your attitude, too, Aldebaran...!"

"Come on, 'Dragon's Blood', 'Dragon's Blood'."

"—! Just hurry up and give me the signal!"

In the end, realizing that applying scientific knowledge requires equipment investment, Aldebaran had to rely on Heinkel's strength, who was showing signs of stress due to the treatment.

Driven by smoke and trapped in the opponent's scheme, they were moving through the forest. Outside, the elite were undoubtedly lying in wait, ready to confront Aldebaran and his group.

They had to reduce that number somewhat.

"Oyaji-san!"

At the signal, Heinkel clenched his back teeth and put strength into his arms. The muscles in both of his arms bulged. Despite lamenting his drunkenness and lack of talent, he achieved a feat of strength in a realm unreachable by Aldebaran—and fiercely, the fallen tree cannon was launched. Starting with the first trial, he pounded in a second and third. If the enemy retreated, it would be ideal. If not——,

"Draw them in tightly——"

The plan was to crush the noses of those brave men. However——,

"Master Heinkel, are you frightened by such a fireball... like a beast~?"

The moment a large, large fireball hovered in the sky, visible even from outside the forest, the severely agitated Heinkel launched the fallen tree cannon without waiting for Aldebaran's signal. As a result, they failed to annihilate most of the enemy, leading to their invasion into the forest.

For this, Heinkel is being nagged by Yae. It can't be helped. After all, she had to clean up all the mess from his mistake.

The fifty or so invading enemies are stalled by Yae's skill alone—a weapon stretched out from the five fingers of Yae's hands that was spread throughout the entire vicinity. It was——,

"—Threads, huh?"

A man, visibly struggling and recognizing what had suppressed his movement—a thug he had seen before. Surely one of the thugs hanging around Felt, Rachins. At Rachins' words, the floating Yae in the air gave an appreciative "Oh~".

"Your insight is accurate. Of course, they're not mere weaving threads, you know? It's what's known as shinobi's techniques. Well, I've never seen anyone else use it myself."

Yae, looking down at the men from high in the air, appeared to be floating with no support. In reality, though, there was a proper foothold. That was the thread spread throughout the forest, Yae's specialty technique using steel thread art.

"The so-called 'Thread User'... Among the numerous romantic weapons, it's one of my top favorites."

"Wow, how unusual~. Lord Al complimented me? Will spears fall from the sky tomorrow?"

"Don't worry, I intended to end by saying the weapon is nice, but the user, hmm..."

Sticking out her tongue in response, Yae doesn't mention her attitude, and Aldebaran too looks down on the enemies below—using Yae's thread power, he had climbed up a tree and was looking down at them.

Yae's steel threads, almost impossible to perceive even when he strained his eyes, were densely stretched out like spider webs, entangling and completely restraining Rachins.

Yae's true strength lies in skillfully tying up anything freely. The use of the steel threads is not only for immobilizing the enemy's movements but also for devising ways, like with the recent fallen tree cannon, to tie up a felled large tree, lift it, and launch it by pulling a thread. Wrapping numerous threads around Heinkel's arm and making him pull like a draft horse was also part of such a mechanism.

In any case, the damage caused by the fallen tree cannon was minor compared to its visual impact. In the end, most of the enemies easily passed by, but in reality, if that number had freely attacked, Aldebaran would have found it quite tough without Yae.

"In battles that aren't one-on-one, the difficulty skyrockets for me."

As he did at the Pleiades watchtower, Aldebaran could handle a simple combat tag-team of Garfiel and Ezzo, but if another person had been there, the situation would have been completely different. Victory would still be assured, but the number of attempts needed could easily change by orders of magnitude. In that fight too, he provoked Garfiel to prevent a two-on-one situation as much as possible, guiding it into a one-on-one within that space.

Aldebaran can find a winning strategy even against Reinhard in a one-on-one match. However, the more the number of opponents increases, the more astronomically numerous the attempts required to find that winning strategy become. Therefore, the presence of Yae, who is strong in multi-opponent battles in place of Aldebaran, was greatly appreciated. And there is more to be thankful for with Yae's skills.

"Hey, what should we do with these guys...? Should we kill them all?"

Before explaining the significance, it was Heinkel who voiced the question. Unlike Aldebaran and Yae, who escaped into the air using threads, Heinkel remained on the ground, looking at Abel and the others trapped by steel threads, with a bitter expression on his face. Although Heinkel's sword often dulled against formidable opponents, the reason for his bitter expression here was likely different from mere cowardice. In response to that cowardice, Aldebaran shook his head and said,

"No, there's no need to kill them. In fact, it's smarter to let them off with injuries. Dead men require nothing, but live ones need treatment. That way, you can occupy the enemy's hands."

"Is that so? Yes, you're right. I was thinking the same thing."

"Oh my, understanding each other among the old men, making Yae feel left out."

Heinkel's visible relief at Aldebaran's response was clear. Nonetheless, Yae refrained from mentioning it—perhaps out of a sense of mercy. In reality, reducing the enemy's combat power was essential for Aldebaran and his group. To achieve that, it was crucial to act wisely rather than recklessly take lives.

So—

"Heh."

"Huh? What's this? Relieved to hear you'll be spared, thug?"

"Who's relieved, drunkard? Really, not just your hair or eyes, but you resemble that guy even in other ways."

"------"

The thug—no, Rachins—grinned, baring his teeth, and glared at Heinkel. More than the threat in his gaze, it was Rachins’ words that silenced Heinkel. From that reaction, Aldebaran decided it was best not to let the conversation continue. Intending to interrupt, he leaned out from the threads wrapped around the trees—

"And you too, helmet guy!"

"Oh."

"Both you and this drunk are letting your guard down. Go through tougher times, idiots."

The crude insult left them momentarily stunned due to its trivial and off-target nature. But Aldebaran soon realized that Rachins’ eyes were not those of a man who acted meaninglessly. The moment he realized it, he understood that the aim was directed at his earlier astonishment.

And it was too late. The price of that tardiness would soon be paid.

"—What, as dull as a pig."

As that voice reached him, it was simultaneous with Aldebaran being crushed by the cannon-like punch of the "Pig King," which struck him and caught him off guard in a moment of blank consciousness.