I, Kurumi Tokisaki, Am a Wanderer

Facing Kurumi with a slightly dazed and adorable expression was none other than Holou.

Her clumsy, awkward demeanor seemed unassuming, yet Kurumi unmistakably felt it—the momentary halt of her heartbeat.

This was likely one of the most formidable beings she had ever encountered.

Even in this seemingly ethereal form, Holou's presence was crushing, akin to a black hole. The dazzling attacks from the Flügel above were inexorably drawn toward her, then vanished without a trace.

No explosions. No flames. Not even a gust of wind. The hem of Holou's dress didn't so much as flutter.

So she's the one who took my little loli away, Kurumi thought, narrowing her eyes.

—A Phantasma-Class God.

The refracted, hazy light danced around her flowing hair as Raphael's one-eyed gaze turned bitter. For a moment, it felt like she had been transported back to that fateful clash with a godling.

Yet this one was undoubtedly stronger.

"Fragmented gods…" Holou murmured, referring to the Flügel. Her gaze, filled with a profound luminescence, pierced through their murderous blue stares to gaze into the far distance.

Her dazed, absent-minded expression transformed, radiating purity even clearer than the streams of early spring.

If the girl known as Kurumi Tokisaki was an enigma, then this figure was an undeniable god.

A new god? Raphael wondered. The form was unfamiliar, though its childlike appearance carried a weathered and ancient quality that even their own God of War could scarcely rival.

But… could that be possible? Could there exist a god older than their supreme deity, the God of War Artosh?

If such a being truly existed, why had their God of War never mentioned it?

Surely, a being of such power would have long since drawn his spear.

As Raphael pondered, an undeniable, unparalleled force rippled through the area, resonating with a voice imbued with absolute authority.

"—My wings, your efforts are enough."

"Return."

The voice was solemn yet strangely warm, carrying an unmistakable sense of majesty.

Since the War of the Last Dragon ages ago, the God of War Artosh had seldom issued such commands.

Even now, his words bore an inescapable weight, arresting the breath of all who heard them. The Flügel bowed with solemn reverence, pressing their right hands to their hearts before dissolving into streaks of light and vanishing.

"To the one who dares to pull me from my throne…"

That voice spoke, banishing millennia of melancholy, laziness, and ennui.

Even Azril, the last to leave, could feel the genuine joy emanating from their god's heart.

"Hate me, rage against me, rebel against me!"

"Wager your fragile life, exhaust your foolish schemes, and challenge me with all your might."

"I am here... waiting for you."

As the journey home resumed, Kurumi found herself reflecting on the nature of these so-called gods.

Gods born of concepts, imbued with Divine Essence, were wholly distinct from any other beings.

Hearing a faint sound, Holou muttered something with a wry, awkward smile before disappearing, as though dissolving into space itself.

Before leaving, she puffed her cheeks and cast a lingering glance at Schwi, whose hands tightened in response.

Kurumi, left alone with Schwi, smirked and tugged playfully at the girl's cheeks. Her arms wrapped snugly around Schwi, entangling the loli's tail. After all, this little troublemaker had caused her mission to fail, and Kurumi had every intention of collecting her dues.

"Wuh… Wuuu!!" Schwi's muffled cries echoed under the clouded sky.

Through a distant telescope, a glimmer of good news came into view.

The allied forces of the Elves... and the Dwarves… had completely withdrawn from Lucia Continent.

Encircling the ocean housing the Spirit Corridor, they now faced the Flügel across the sea, locked in a tense stalemate.

Their vigilance was palpable, as if some unprecedented entity had descended into their world.

In Rick's weary, calculating eyes, a faint glimmer of relief surfaced.

Except for the Werebeast retreating to the western islands and the Demonia fleeing north half a month after Kurumi and Schwi's departure, the continent now belonged solely to its weakest race—humans.

Still… the timing of these departures seemed suspiciously unified. It was as though Kurumi and Schwi had orchestrated a major event.

Rick studied the map spread before him. Marking the settlements along the northern route, the surviving human clusters totaled a mere eight thousand individuals.

This… might be all that remained of humanity on the continent.

Perhaps even the planet.

In the darkness, that imaginary hand once more reached out, playing a game of wits with Rick on the board of the world.

If gods were born from concepts, if they drew their Divine Essence from mortal prayers, then perhaps the presence before him could only be described as a god of games.

But lately, this presence had felt far too real—less a figment of imagination and more a tangible force.

The allied Elves wielded their ultimate weapon: Void Zero Protection.

The Dwarves held their own trump card: E-Bomb.

The former was a countermeasure against Phantasmas, perfectly suited to neutralize the God of War's apostle—the Flügel stronghold of Avant Heim.

The latter, a weapon tailored for slaying gods, combined devastating explosive power with a deadly effect against Divine Essence itself.

White chess pieces interwove across the board.

Yet the God of War, hailed as the strongest, was said to wield a power capable of piercing planets: Godly Smite.

In the shadows, the unseen hand manipulated the chessboard.

"Come now… show me. Show me."

Surrounding the black king situated atop the Spirit Corridor, the white pieces formed a vast, inescapable net.

"I can't wait to see your face when you lay eyes upon the Star Grail."

Enveloped in darkness, the god chuckled, their shoulders trembling with mirth. Even unseen, their delight was palpable.

"Oh, just imagining it is so much fun—that Grail."

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed.

"Sir Rick!"

An out-of-breath Ary rushed into the room with an urgent report.

"They're back!"

When Kurumi and Schwi returned to the cave where the Ghosts dwelled, they were greeted by Couronne.

Outside the cave, black ash floated endlessly, swirling in an unceasing haze. The half-day journey from the Ghosts' settlement to this cavern was not a simple one for Couronne—it was fraught with peril.

What drove her to take on such a dangerous trek? Only one thing: her concern for her younger brother—Rick.

Yes, her "brother" with whom she shared no blood relation.

A faint, hazy light from spinel lamps slanted across the cave's entrance. Kurumi, holding Schwi wrapped in a black cloak, gently patted away the ashen remnants clinging to the girl. She carefully removed Schwi's hood.

Unlike in the settlement, there was no need to hide Schwi's identity as an Ex-Machina here.

The little girl kept her eyes lowered, her expression neutral, but a faint blush crept across her cheeks.

Ever since her "heart" had grown clearer, Schwi had often appeared like this, daydreaming with a dazed look on her face.

Every morning, when Kurumi woke up, she would find Schwi perched on her waist, nestled snugly against her. The girl's head would nuzzle forward, her bright eyes sparkling, and—no matter how many times Kurumi told her off—it never changed.

I'm sorry, alright.

But still… nothing changed.

Seriously—what kind of Ex-Machina acted like this?

After tending to Schwi, Kurumi finally removed her own hood.

"Ahhh! Schwi is just too adorable!" Couronne squealed, crouching down to envelop Schwi in a tight hug.

Schwi's cheeks puffed out indignantly. The embrace was too big, too tight—it practically smothered her. Not that Ex-Machina needed to breathe, of course.

Damn these… oversized… assets. Why is she so tall anyway?

"Oh, my! An annoyed little Schwi is even cuter!" Couronne cooed, shaking Schwi enthusiastically and nuzzling the girl's cheek. "Kids are at their cutest when they're full of energy like this~ You used to be so cold and distant, it was scary to even try hugging you!"

Incidentally, Couronne had a habit of referring to herself as "big sister" when speaking to those around her age or younger—especially when no one else called her that. The fewer people indulged her, the more fervently she self-proclaimed it.

To the actual children, however, Couronne was addressed by another, far more dreaded title: Auntie.

After some playful bickering, Couronne finally straightened her expression as Ivan and another figure arrived to join them. She stood upright and bowed deeply toward Kurumi.

"Thank you. Truly… thank you so much."

From the lips of these self-exiled, forgotten souls, she had learned of the girl's extraordinary power—like a goddess descended from the heavens.

Felling northern Demonia with her fists, kicking southern Werebeast into submission with her feet.

The wounded spoke of her with shining eyes and boundless gratitude, recounting tales of her deeds with awe.

Couronne studied Kurumi carefully.

The girl had a delicate and enchanting appearance, her height unassuming, her figure lithe with an elegant waistline.

Her dress, layered with lace, was so intricate it seemed a masterpiece of the Elf race—yet its deep black hue radiated an aura of inauspiciousness they would never touch.

Black matte stockings outlined her slender legs, and her feet were clad in wide-strapped Roman sandals. Her slender ankles seemed almost designed to fit perfectly in someone's grasp.

Yet this noblewoman-like girl wielded strength capable of contending with the upper intelligent races.

"Ara Ara, no need to be so formal, Couronne," Kurumi said, twirling a lock of her dark hair while lowering her gaze slightly, looking almost bashful. But the mischievous glint in her crimson eye gave her a wicked charm, as if inviting trouble.

"Couronne?" Kurumi tilted her head, arching an eyebrow as a sly smile danced on her lips.

"Ah! Nothing," Couronne stammered, startled by the intoxicating breath so close to her face. That wine-red eye drew too near, snapping her out of her thoughts. "I just thought… something about you seems different."

"Prettier, I think."

"My, my~ Couronne is such a sweet talker," Kurumi teased, her gaze drifting toward Schwi. "But, well… change is only natural, isn't it?"

At Kurumi's knowing smirk, Schwi stiffened, her small body visibly shrinking as her head lowered.

"Huh? Did Schwi do something wrong?" Couronne asked, confused. "She's just a kid!"

"Oh no, nothing wrong at all. In fact, she's been very, very good~" Kurumi's singsong tone was punctuated by a soft chuckle.

"Huh?" Couronne stopped, standing beneath the spinel light. Why was everyone always being so cryptic? Rick was like this, Kurumi too—why couldn't people just be direct?

Another figure led Kurumi and Schwi toward the war council chamber while Ivan called out to their young leader.

"Hey, Couronne," he grinned, forming a rude gesture with his thumb stuck between his index and middle fingers. "Come looking for Rick again?"

"Y-you! I'm telling Nonna about this! She deserves to know just how scandalous her father is!"

"Don't!" Ivan laughed nervously, elbowing Couronne. "Seriously, stop being shy. In times like these, the first priority is babies, the second is food, and the next three priorities? Still babies!"

Along the way, the Ghosts recovering in the cave greeted Kurumi.

Both she and Schwi noticed that most bore some form of injury.

It was understandable—living among other races while hiding their identities often required extreme measures.

They ate the flesh of Demonia, smeared ash on their bodies, feigned enthrallment by Sea Creatures, even offered their blood to Vampires.

Yet… despite Kurumi having left them with potions, why weren't they using them?

—To save them for those more grievously wounded.

Kurumi's gaze lingered on a man sitting in the dimly lit cavern, his eyes dull under the faint glow of minerals.

—This war… it will end, won't it?

—My daughter… she'll get to see the sky beyond the clouds, won't she?

His seemingly optimistic tone was tinged with bitterness as he laughed.

"Oh, absolutely," Kurumi replied with a quiet certainty, parting ways with him. "I promise."

Shaking off the somber mood, Kurumi strode confidently toward Rick's chamber, ready to recount her and Schwi's experiences.

Her account, though casually delivered, left Rick visibly shaken.

"An almost Demon Lord-level threat? A Flügel outlier? The entire Flügel race? A Old Deus?"

It all sounded like a wild fantasy.

But Kurumi wouldn't lie, and Rick's mind raced as he rearranged his chessboard, reevaluating their strategy.

Perhaps… the situation wasn't as hopeless as it seemed.

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