Typemoon [467-469] (Patreon)

Chapter 467: Alliance

This is the truth of Ragnarok—the entire catastrophe was triggered by a single stray thought, an if. “That was a brutal past. Under Surtr’s tyranny, countless lands were ruined. That fellow was wounded by the gods’ armaments, and the blood he shed turned into flames that remained upon the earth.”

Skadi sighed. “Innumerable lives were burned to death by that fellow’s flames. I must protect the few lives that remain. Even if I want the curtain of true Ragnarok to finally fall and usher in the age of mankind, I still have to ensure mankind survives.”

“To restrain the flames that were eroding the earth and life itself, I split off more than half my power, covering the land with magical ice and snow, creating a sanctuary the surviving giants could not defile—a place where humanity might persist under limitations.”

“I gave the giants masks infused with my mana, and, by relying on the higher command authority inherited from my father, Thiazi, I controlled them. Using the three remaining Valkyries, I produced a total of over a hundred pilots.”

Skadi continued, “Surtr, whose true body was sealed within the false sun, became something akin to a divine being—a thin, diluted existence. Though he still remained in the world, he was no longer truly influential.”

“The Scandinavian was restored to a brief calm and stepped into a brand-new era that does not exist in fate: the last god, the few surviving humans, the few surviving giants, the few surviving Valkyries. It was an age where the survivors lived in quiet.”

“Yes, this impossible state endured for three thousand years—”

“What came after, you already know: the Crypters’s appearance, and the Servant she brought… it turned out to be the soul of my enemy!”

At that point, even Skadi, usually as serene as still water, could not restrain her mana. The surging magical pressure howled through the hall, making everyone below feel the terror of the final god of the Norse.

“Ophelia likely used a summoning method similar to Chaldea’s system to manifest a Heroic Spirit, and in that process blended Surtr’s soul into it.”

Alaric had already organized the doubts in his mind. “I suspect she used that rare Mystic Eye as a catalyst. It seems to be an eye that can see possibilities. If it is a pruned phenomenon—a possible history not included in Proper Human History—then she must have seen the history of a Lostbelt somewhere.”

Alaric himself could do that—or rather, his true body could.

If Ophelia glimpsed him across worldviews, or made eye contact, then her Mystic Eye would inevitably capture Alaric’s image; if necessary, even his soul could be entrusted within it.

Her Mystic Eyes were very special.

“She happened to see Surtr’s soul?”

Skadi sighed. “If she had to look, why not at my silhouette? Ophelia Phamrsolone—what misfortune…”

“In any case, the great enemy, the Flame Giant King Surtr, has returned here. This time he will surely merge with the descending Land of Flame and, as a great destroyer, bring all things to an end.”

“Yes—if it continues like this, the Norse world will perish, will be burned away.”

“It isn’t over yet, Queen Skadi.”

Smiling, Alaric spoke. “With a great enemy before us, we can form an alliance and subjugate the Flame Giant King Surtr together. For that, we need your assistance.”

Alaric eyed Skadi’s Primordial Runes with naked desire. At any other time he would have wanted to learn them on the spot, but there was no time now—immediate use was best.

At present, their submarine carried a divine Servant who existed as a divine magus as well. If they added Skadi, it would greatly aid the creation of a True Human.

“…Oh? Offering counsel to a god, are you, Heroic Spirit?”

Skadi put away the sorrow on her face. A god’s composure and grace returned as her deep violet eyes fixed on Alaric, an exception among the gathered Servants alongside Mash.

“A Heroic Spirit is merely a human shade, a shadow of Human Order. Ordinarily, the words of such a man would hardly be worth hearing. But you—you are alive, aren’t you?”

Skadi gazed at Alaric. The pale-gold slit pupils were not a sign of divinity, but of the dragon.

The last dragon—none other than this.

In the Norse lands as they were now, dragons and such mysteries had not appeared for a very long time.

Moreover—

Skadi could see it: the draconic mystery Alaric possessed seemed to be connected to that island by a thousand threads, and by extension, to the Norse. In a sense, Alaric was a native European dragon.

The dragon’s mystery was secondary. What truly moved Skadi was that earlier Judgment—its mana was something even she, in her current state, would struggle to withstand.

And during that Judgment’s firing, Skadi had glimpsed a corner of the shooter’s true form. The vigorous life force could not be concealed. Without a doubt, it was Alaric, a being still living in the world.

Alaric was unlike the Servants present, closer to—and even the same kind of existence as—Koyanskaya, who had once appeared in the Norse Lostbelt.

To Skadi, Koyanskaya—whether person or beast—was similar to Alaric: brimming with ambition. Only Alaric’s aims were far grander.

“In your eyes, there is a desire no less than Surtr’s—”

Skadi chuckled. “But I have already decided to love you all. Then let us ally—”

Before she finished, roars rolled in from the high skies outside the castle. Perceiving something, Alaric tilted his head slightly. Gemlike eyes pierced the dome to track an unidentified flying object a kilometer away, approaching at the speed of sound.

Alaric knew what it was. He had never seen one, but he understood its nature at a glance.

“The Seed of the Fantasy Tree.”

Hum—

As soon as Alaric took note of the Fantasy Tree seed, the suddenly unfolding Judgement Gate fired dozens of slender lances of light in an instant, striking the seed’s lines of death with perfect accuracy and killing it!

“Your Majesty, that was a Seed of the Fantasy Tree. Was it coming to ambush us—or you?”

Alaric turned and asked, “Queen Skadi, can you still feel your connection to the Fantasy Tree?”

Unlike Ivan the Terrible, Scáthach-Skadi had believed Ophelia from the start, allowed the Fantasy Tree to take root, and forged a link with it.

If that was so, Skadi should retain control over the Fantasy Tree—enough that even its seeds wouldn’t attack.

“Mm. You’re right.”

A heartbeat after Alaric, Skadi also noticed the seeds attempting to invade the castle and tried to use her authority to make them self-destruct.

But the result was obvious.

“They won’t accept the self-destruction command. It seems my connection to the Fantasy Tree has been severed—”

Skadi said blandly.

“Only the Crypters, Ophelia, could cut that connection.”

Alaric nodded. Because of Sigurd, Brynhildr, and his own depleted state, he had hurried to the castle as quickly as possible, ignoring Ophelia for the moment.

It seemed that lapse had let Ophelia sever the link between Skadi and the Fantasy Tree. So who, then, had signed a new contract with the Tree?

Alaric hardly needed to think to know the answer.

“Surtr, then—”

Skadi sighed. “If Surtr absorbs the Fantasy Tree’s colossal energy, what kind of situation will it lead to—”

Chapter 468: Convergence

The Fantasy Tree is the foundation upon which Lostbelts operate. The magical resources it contains can only be used by the Lostbelt King who has forged a link with it. Skadi, who had once established such a link, knew all too well the magnitude of its energy. If Surtr gained the Fantasy Tree’s support, not only could he rapidly restore the power of the Age of Gods—he might even surpass it.

“I imagine the Scandinavian will be utterly incinerated in a single breath.”

Skadi said softly, “The Flame Sword—that fellow wields a blade birthed by the stars themselves, like a device that peels the reality called the Age of Gods from the surface of the world. Nothing remains afterward. It is a sword that can do precisely that.”

“A divine—armament—”

Mash’s expression tightened. Clearly, Surtr’s Flame Sword was a threat beyond measure.

“I see—”

Alaric nodded. “A Noble Phantasm on par with the Holy Spear.”

Erasing the surface of the earth—he could do it too; it was merely a matter of time. With the Fantasy Tree’s support, deploying the Holy Spear to erase the surface in short order wasn’t impossible.

“Your Majesty, where is the Fantasy Tree?” Fujimaru Ritsuka asked.

“In the northern region of my Norse. The great tree called Fantasy has taken root beyond the flame-streaked mountains.”

Skadi said, “Because my ice-crystal dust is scattered in the surrounding area, any gaze is blocked from seeing it.”

“So it interferes with mana sensing while also masking it optically through magical effects.”

Mash nodded in sudden understanding. “No wonder we couldn’t find the Fantasy Tree no matter what.”

“Since we know where it is, we only need to wait for Da Vinci-chan and the others to arrive.”

Alaric smiled lightly. “Your Majesty, regarding the alliance proposal—what is your answer?”

“At this point, there’s no other way—”

Skadi sighed. “Enemies of my great enemy, humans and Heroic Spirits from Proper Human History, I accept your proposal.”

“But don’t think about holding back. Surtr is the one who once felled the great god Odin. We are going to kill a god-slayer. It is a road of grand endeavor strewn with hardship—”

Their target was no ordinary foe: the black one who once defeated Odin and ended the Norse Age of Gods—the Flame Sword, the Flame Giant King, Surtr.

It was practically a challenge against a god.

“We have slain gods before,” Alaric said with a small smile. “This time will be no exception.”

“I’m overwhelmed! Haha! This outcome truly exceeds expectations! Not only will the Queen of the Gods join my magnificent legion, but you’ve even defeated gods before!”

Napoleon’s heart burned with irrepressible passion, and he laughed aloud. “Since I missed the last battle, I won’t miss this once-in-a-lifetime chance! Target: the god-slayer! Our ranks include a goddess and great heroes!”

Even with all the adventures he had in life, Napoleon—manifested as the idol who answers others—couldn’t help but thrill at the battle to come.

“Indeed. I shall devote all my strength to clearing a path for you,” Sigurd said with a smile.

“Yes—until our spirit cores and spirit origins have completely shattered, we shall become blades for your use,” Brynhildr said lightly. “Leave it to me. The Flame Without Heart cannot burn me.”

Watching the pair’s declarations, Skadi cautioned, “Be careful. I used runes to maintain your spirit cores, but the connection is not foolproof. If you expend all your mana during battle, they will shatter again.”

A shattered spirit core is irreversible. Even Skadi, noble as a god, could only maintain it temporarily with Primordial Runes; if the mana ran out, the end was inevitable.

“…”

Mash fell silent and subconsciously glanced at Sigurd. Noticing her gaze, Sigurd smiled. “Lady Mash, do not worry. We Servants are originally fleeting guests to the world. Once our purpose is fulfilled, we disappear. Both Brynhildr and I understand this well.”

“This body is a blade. This body is strength.”

“Though I am not your formally contracted Servant, Master Fujimaru Ritsuka, I will regard you as my temporary Master. For the sake of Human Order, command us to your heart’s content.”

“Thank you,” Fujimaru said, then looked to Skadi, who had risen. “Your Majesty, could you accelerate the submarine’s guidance to the castle?”

“Mm. There’s still a distance. Why don’t we go to your base instead?” Skadi tilted her head, thought for a moment, and said, “With high-speed flight runes, we can reach the destination faster.”

In Skadi’s view, Da Vinci-chan’s submarine still needed time to reach the castle. Waiting here would be inefficient. Given their current timetable, converging from both sides was the optimal choice.

“Then we’ll trouble Your Majesty.”

Alaric smiled. “Time is short. Let’s depart at once—”

—

“Confirming intel from the survey team. They’re preparing to rendezvous with us. ETA: thirty seconds!”

The submarine skimming over the snowy plain detected a group of targets flying at high speed in the sky. After reestablishing contact, they confirmed the data.

“S-several divine beings?” Goredolf swallowed. “They’re boarding the submarine I’m responsible for—”

“Forget it! At this point, I should have the proper resolve! I’ll write the report as if I’m preparing one or two books!”

He patted his cheeks and quickly returned to his usual cheer.

But Meunière beside him couldn’t stand it and groused, “Why would you think that! Are you that idle!”

“W-what are you saying! If it’s recognized as a valuable opus, the Musik family might even rise to the rank of Lords!”

Goredolf retorted, “But that must wait until we reclaim Human Order! Only those who can consider postwar issues count as excellent directors!”

“Who are you sneering at! Besides, without power to contend with the Department of Legal Administration or the Aristocratic Faction, none of this is possible!”

Meunière muttered under his breath, “Just sit still, will you!”

“Y-you—! Wait, how do you know all that—”

As Goredolf reeled, the divine beings from afar successfully boarded the submarine.

“This great iron hulk has space-distortion magecraft woven into it—”

Upon stepping from the deck into the submarine, Skadi surveyed the surroundings and offered her assessment.

Chapter 469: The Birds

“Da Vinci-chan, how’s the situation?” Back aboard the submarine, unlike Skadi who looked around with tourist-like curiosity, Alaric went straight to Da Vinci and Holmes to ask about the progress of the spirit origin fabrication.

“We were waiting on you! You defeated giants and broke them down for mystic-tainted tissue materials, right?”

In work clothes, Da Vinci-chan poked her head out and cast a glance at Skadi walking through the sub and at Sitonai, who had somehow slipped to her side; the two were chatting pleasantly.

A living god—one who had continued from the Norse Age of Gods to now, without becoming a divine spirit. Such close contact was a novelty for Chaldea’s crew.

Goredolf had produced a notebook from who-knows-where and was eyeing Skadi, struggling over how to record this.

Alaric withdrew his gaze and nodded. “Given the current state of the Scandinavian, it’s hard to gather other mystic-bearing materials. The land’s been burned away by Surtr. Almost no resources remain; providing for the villages alone has exhausted everything. Those conifers were constructed by Skadi’s own mana. Basically, aside from giant-kind, there are no living mysterious entities left.”

In such an environment, collecting mystic materials other than from giants was extremely difficult.

“What about you—can you still use Marble Phantasm?” Da Vinci asked. “The submarine has enough stored power for now, and with the queen’s help we should manage. But your spirit origin doesn’t look great, does it?”

Alaric’s condition had been reported once contact was restored, but Da Vinci couldn’t fabricate an external spirit-origin exoskeleton like Mash’s in such a short time.

If he kept up high-output combat, he’d end up like Skadi warned Sigurd and the others—spent and shattered.

“It’s not a big problem. Skadi’s Primordial Runes are sustaining my spirit origin. I can still use Marble Phantasm. Don’t worry about mana—I can shave it from the corrupted land.”

Alaric flexed his fingers. No one knew his condition better than himself.

Skadi’s Primordial Runes were extraordinary—not only maintaining his spirit origin to the utmost, but even providing some amplification.

Most importantly, with Skadi’s permission, Alaric could chip away at her mana snow and the Norse land to convert it into energy. With careful control, he could draw on a sliver of the power Skadi had accumulated over millennia.

Even earlier, when he’d held back out of consideration for Skadi, he’d been able to amass a large stash of mana resources—let alone now.

“The queen, huh. Then let’s get started! I still have to help Mash calibrate her exoskeleton. Your battle tempo is a bit too high, and the fight with the magic swordsman pushed Mash to the limit. Without adjustments, she can’t keep going.”

Da Vinci didn’t waste words. “Holmes will cover my workstation. With the queen’s runes, our ‘True Human’ should get infinitely close to a complete model!”

Though the submarine’s facilities had been refitted, they still weren’t ideal—short of Da Vinci’s target of perfection. But with the tremendous mystery of Primordial Runes and Skadi’s divine power, perhaps they could bridge the gap.

Just then—

“New contacts overhead—is that a bird?”

Meunière toggled the monitor, magnifying the image so everyone could see the circling shapes high above—birds they had seen once before.

“Oho! Birds living in the gaps of the flame realms? Same as before.”

Mash had returned to the med bay for adjustments, but Fujimaru Ritsuka, at loose ends, came to take a look—which drew Sitonai’s attention.

The white-haired girl popped out from Fujimaru’s waist, peering at the birds on the display. “Those two get along really well—huh? Wait a sec, let me look more closely… mm?”

Sitonai seemed to have noticed something and widened her eyes. Skadi, who had just walked over, asked, “You’ve seen these birds before?”

“Several times,” Ritsuka nodded. “Is there a problem?”

“Nothing—merely a personal matter.”

Skadi shook her head and didn’t press the topic. She turned and headed for the workshop where Alaric and the others were. She had heard the earlier exchange between Alaric and Da Vinci.

She didn’t know exactly what Chaldea was making, but it seemed favorable to the war effort.

As their ally, she would offer her aid. Shortly after Skadi led Sitonai into the workshop—

“Hey, can you hear me? All of you staying cozy in that heated room!”

Napoleon, who had not entered the submarine and remained on the roof, shouted, “This is the sub’s rooftop. I see more than birds in the sky—looks like seeds of the Fantasy Tree being spat out again! From how far away are they launching those things!”

Whoosh—

Standing atop the sub, Napoleon stared at the small black dots drawing nearer in the distant sky. Even with his Servant’s eyes, he could barely make them out.

It had to be dozens of kilometers away at least. That was just visible range—who knew how much farther they’d actually traveled!

“They changed trajectory midair—looks like they’ll come straight down on us. We’ve got an interception battle incoming!”

Hoisting his great cannon, Napoleon shouted, “Anyone who wants in, get up here!”

Hearing this, Fujimaru glanced at Mash, who had regained her spirit, and asked, “Mash, can you fight?”

“Mm! No problem! Da Vinci checked the exoskeleton—no issues at all!”

Mash nodded hard. “I can fight!”

“Because Her Majesty repaired it with runes! The exoskeleton wasn’t damaged at all. Primordial Runes are amazing—”

Da Vinci’s voice drifted over, full of admiration.

“I shall sortie as well—” Sigurd noticed Brynhildr’s look. “It’s fine. I just want to reacquaint myself with Gram’s weight.”

“I’ll go too,” Brynhildr said simply, with resolve.

“No, I can handle this alone. You should rest,” Sigurd began—then met Brynhildr’s eyes. Words seemed to lose their power.

“I see. Then let’s go together,” he said at last, reaching to take her hand.

“Please rest, everyone. There’s no need for you to fight. I will handle it.”

Before the couple reached the roof, Alaric’s voice came over the intercom, making them both pause.

Brynhildr had only seen Alaric fight once or twice. He was clearly a master swordsman, but how could he shoulder the entire battle alone now?

Sigurd, though he carried memories of fighting Surtr with Alaric, recalled mainly the clash of blades.

“Sir Alaric, there’s no need. We can still—”

Before Sigurd could finish, a familiar surge of mana erupted and bloomed.

Those inside the submarine might not see it directly, but Napoleon, the first and best-placed witness on the roof, saw the gates unfold like a lotus.

One after another, pitch-black Judgement Gate spread through the void, ancient armaments assembling and extending from them—numbering in the hundreds!