The Imperial Capital — The Highest Place.
At the very top floor of the Imperial Palace—a place none may enter freely—a small, black-haired girl sat upon a steel throne.
She looked about 140 cm tall, short enough to need a stool to climb up to the seat. Dressed in a military uniform identical to those worn by Imperial soldiers, the custom-tailored outfit made her appear like a child playing dress-up as a soldier.
And yet, this red-eyed girl was none other than the Emperor—the one who sought to rule the entire continent.
The little tyrant.
The bloodstained ruler.
The apostle of war.
If one had to sum up all these epithets into a single phrase, it would be: The Young Empress.
Having inherited the throne at the age of eight and declared war immediately thereafter, twelve years had passed. Now, at twenty years old, the Young Empress—though grown—was still known by that title. She sat staring intently at a large magitech screen, an 85-inch monitor, as familiar to her as an old comrade.
“…It’s not working?”
On the screen was what looked like a live broadcast. The monitor’s perspective shifted rapidly, as though following someone’s gaze, showing a forest in flames.
The Empire’s Masters were fighting, prepared to die, against a single man.
Each of them wielded the Empire’s magical weapons—artifacts powered by pseudo-dragon hearts known as mana cores. A single such Master could devastate an entire county. Some, depending on their strength, could destroy an entire kingdom.
And yet, every last one of these elites had been brought to their knees by a lone swordsman in the burning forest of the elves.
“…As expected. No matter how many times we try, we can’t defeat that monster.”
Onscreen, the man thrust his greatsword into the scorched ground, flames swirling around him. The Young Empress clenched her fist.
Master Cadencia—one of their own—had defected. A dark elf.
To be honest, she hadn’t expected this. She’d anticipated resistance, some complaints maybe, but not theft. She never imagined Cadencia would steal the Empire’s magical weapon Fafnir and flee.
It was the ‘first time’ such a thing had ever happened.
During the peace negotiations, the Young Empress had momentarily let her guard down. But she never expected someone so disillusioned with the treaty would, within a single day, try to burn the World Tree for the sake of their twisted beliefs.
Oddly enough, there was some relief.
Because by pure chance, the Red Devil had been there.
She knew that monster—who had subdued every Master armed with mana cores using only a greatsword and those glittering red wings—was currently in the Elf Kingdom.
__
“Come.”
The Red Devil had spoken.
“Attack me with everything you’ve got. Never mind the treaty—I’ll give you a chance to kill me.”
He offered up his own death.
__
And in that moment, the Young Empress understood.
“He’s going to such lengths just to avoid marriage.”
It was a staged death—a scheme to make it look like he had been killed by Imperial assassins. He’d then vanish and live in hiding under a false identity.
Most likely, this had been coordinated with Count Wilhelm’s household. Even if it hadn’t been, the people loyal to the Count would never believe the Red Devil had died.
They knew the truth.
They knew the overwhelming power of that monster.
…All of the Empire’s Masters had been subdued in under 30 minutes by a single sword. Who would believe a story like “Hans Wilhelm was killed by Imperial assassins”?
No one. No sane person would.
But they’d have to believe it.
Why?
Because that monster wanted them to.
“Sigh…”
The Young Empress rubbed her forehead.
This was a warning.
Hans Wilhelm’s disappearance would plunge the continent into chaos—but it would also ensure that the Empire could never break the peace treaty or risk war again.
Even if he faked his death, Hans Wilhelm would return the moment the flames of war were rekindled.
“Once again, I’m stopped by that Red Devil…”
The Young Empress slumped in her throne and let out a long sigh.
“God… Why would you grant us the power to rule the continent, only to place in our path a single man who could oppose the entire Empire?”
She could only watch helplessly as the Red Devil’s words played from the monitor.
—
“All other Masters of the Empire were injured or killed. The Dark Elf, Master Cadencia, self-destructed during combat with Hans Wilhelm. He was seriously wounded and disappeared afterward. That’s the story we’re going with.”
“Kuh…!”
The Empire’s Masters, all kneeling or leaning on their staffs, glared at me, devoid of spirit.
“Are you insane?!”
A mage in a witch’s hat screamed at me.
“Do you realize how much chaos your disappearance will cause across the continent?!”
“That chaos is something humanity must bear.”
“What?!”
“A hero that’s too powerful is vital during war, but if they remain after the war, it becomes a loss—for both the Alliance and the Empire.”
“…That’s just sophistry.”
A woman in glasses and a robe spat through clenched teeth.
“You’re trying to preach that we must grow stronger without heroes? In truth, you’re just running away because you don’t want to marry a 37-year-old spinster!”
“It’s not because she’s 37.”
“What?”
“It’s because they’re forcing me to marry her. Anyone hearing this would think I’m rejecting her because of her age.”
Age didn’t matter to me.
Well—it mattered to an extent. But if that 37-year-old spinster took care of herself and was healthy like someone in their twenties, I’d be willing to take the risk.
“Even if she were a witch over a hundred years old—if she looked like she was in her twenties, and we truly loved each other—age would mean nothing.”
“Ugh…!”
Some of the Masters blushed awkwardly, but I ignored them and retrieved my greatsword.
“This is your only warning. If someone else like Cadencia goes rogue, I will reappear. Even if not as Hans Wilhelm.”
“What, under a fake name?”
“That’s not a bad idea either. Whatever the form—don’t cross the line.”
I picked up the mana core lying on the ground. The pseudo-dragon heart, Fafnir, brought by Cadencia to burn the World Tree, held far more energy than any normal Master could handle.
“We’ve signed the treaty. We’ve bled enough. Can’t we just stop fighting and live in peace now?”
“…You think that’s possible?”
“Realistically? No.”
The so-called peace treaty was just a ceasefire.
The continent’s wounds—inflicted over 12 years—had not healed. The emotional scars would never fade.
Still—
“It’s better than before the treaty.”
I had no intention of becoming a symbol of peace.
But my very existence was deterrence enough.
“If the Empire starts another war—if they dare light that fuse…”
Zzzzziiing.
Magic surged through Fafnir’s core. I raised my greatsword to the sky.
“I will reappear. In the heart of the Empire’s capital.”
“…!! E-Everyone, take cover!!”
“Officially, this was Cadencia’s self-destruct attack, right?”
I infused the volatile mana into the blade and thrust it skyward.
“I am death now.”
I would become a force that ends war.
—
That day, the continent witnessed it.
Far from the Elf forest, an explosion bloomed.
A red mushroom cloud soared into the sky.
And then—
—
“…Are you saying my master has gone missing?”
Robert, Count Wilhelm’s butler, was stunned by the sudden news.
“Yes. I’m truly sorry. Judging by the traces of battle… as many as nine Imperial Masters seem to have been involved in the assassination.”
“……”
“Then, I’ll take my leave.”
The captain of the Royal Knights gave a half-hearted farewell.
“…Hah.”
Robert scratched his head and looked up.
“That’s the story they’re going with?”
There was no concern on his face.
“Imperial Masters assassinating my master? Impossible. If they were capable of that, the peace treaty wouldn’t have happened in the first place.”
Who would believe it?
Hans Wilhelm, dead?
Maybe those who stood to gain from his death would believe it. They’d cheer the fall of the continent’s shield.
“…If it takes long—three years. If short—one year.”
Robert mused aloud, then changed his expression.
“H-ugh…”
“Excuse me, sir—”
“HYAAAA!!”
Robert collapsed dramatically, bursting into tears.
“M-Master! How could this be?! Sob! Without Master, who will protect the Grates Kingdom? No—the continent?! Hooo hoo hoo!”
He wailed.
It looked strange, yes—but it was what his master would expect of him.
This was clearly intentional. Even if he hadn’t told Robert in advance, he’d have known Robert would understand.
Faked disappearance.
And as the capable butler, Robert had one job left:
“Goddess!!”
He would wait.
For the day his master returned—riding a white carriage, the lady of Count Wilhelm’s house in a wedding dress by his side.
“How… how could this happen?! Goddess!!”
“Please calm down. Sir Wilhelm—”
“He’s not dead! Master, master…!!”
The death of Hans Wilhelm.
“He couldn’t possibly have died!!!”
Robert denied it—more fiercely than anyone else.
—
Hans Wilhelm, the Shield of the Alliance—
Missing.
—
A few days later, in the forest of a small kingdom—
“Kyaaaa!!”
A white-haired maiden on a stroll let out a scream.
“Th-this is…!”
By the riverside, she saw a black-haired youth collapsed in a black robe.
“Young Lady! What’s wrong?! …Kyaaaa!!”
“Emma! Go get help! Quickly!”
The white-haired maiden rushed over and helped him up.
She didn’t notice.
As she struggled to support the man, their skin briefly touched—
And the seemingly unconscious youth’s eyes twitched.
