One Night to Topple Twenty Years
On the outskirts of Kelso, the collapse of the barrier was easier to see. A great, towering wall shattering like a pane of glass and raining down in fragments — a rare and magnificent sight, truth be told.
And a girl was watching it with a perfectly blank expression. She wore a black robe over her white uniform, hands buried in her pockets, and though her face gave nothing away, her eyes held a tangle of emotions.
"S-Sister Lethe?"
Beside her stood her dormitory roommate, Lirinet. She had a brown robe thrown over her shoulders and kept fidgeting, sneaking glances at Lethe before working up the nerve to speak.
"Is... is this really the right thing to do? Leaving a Saintess to die?"
"I won't claim it's a *good* deed. But it's the righteous one."
Lethe answered with practiced cynicism.
"A grown man of a Saintess, cooked up with drugs? Ha! As if Efnel would ever sanction something that filthy."
"B-But they dispatched Paladins to him. Doesn't that mean they acknowledged him, at least a little?"
Lethe went quiet for a moment at Lirinet's rebuttal before speaking again.
"Then let me be honest with you."
"?"
She brushed her snow-white hair back behind her ear.
"Honestly? Say what you want — the most promising Saintess candidate on this continent is *me*. I'd rather shut the whole thing down for good than watch some bogus fake Saintess steal my chance. There. Satisfied?"
"...Th-that's not really it either, though."
At Lirinet's timid objection, a flame flickered to life in Lethe's eyes.
"Oh, what now! I tell you that's the reason, and you're *still* saying no!"
"The blue-haired boy from Kizen."
Lethe stiffened.
"Didn't you really do all this for him? The moment he said he was heading to Kelso, you reacted so fast you even blocked the Paladins."
Lirinet's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
"And that letter you got back at the dorm — the one from a man. Wasn't that from the Kizen boy too?"
"...Unbelievable."
Lethe scoffed.
"Your brain only ever runs in *that* direction, Lirinet. That's your whole problem."
"A-are you going to deny it?"
"Here — take a good, hard look at my face."
Lethe turned to face her squarely.
"Give me one single reason I would go *that* far to help a necromancer."
"..."
Lirinet quietly summoned Simon's face to mind. He was a necromancer, yes, but he'd been remarkably pretty.
"See, he really is nic—!"
"Consider this a warning: route that through your brain *before* it leaves your mouth."
Lethe cut her off with a low growl, half a step ahead, and Lirinet instantly clammed up like a mute who'd swallowed honey.
Lethe leaned in closer, bringing her face right up to Lirinet's.
"You *are* my roommate, aren't you? Then answer me. Do I look like the type of person who'd fall head over heels for some man?"
"..."
Lirinet searched her memory for every man who had ever crossed paths with Lethe. Lethe, and men. Scenes of Lethe in the same room as a man. Beating him, kicking him down, beating him, slamming his head into a wall, beating him, knocking him flat, beating him, kicking him, beating.
'Whoof.'
No matter how she turned it over, nothing but violence came up. Typical, really. This woman was—
"F-forgive me! I spoke out of turn!"
She was hopelessly, comically removed from anything resembling romance!
Only once Lirinet admitted it and apologized did Lethe coolly turn her back.
"As long as you understand. Let's go, Lirinet."
"Yes, Sister!"
Lirinet's usual bright voice came bouncing back as she latched onto Lethe's arm.
"Hehe! See, see! Our Sister Lethe would *never*! To her, men are nothing but sandbags in punching shape, that's all!"
"...Quit sneaking in the insults."
"Okay~"
In any case, this town was crawling with necromancers — far too dangerous to linger. The two of them were on their way out of the village when—
Step.
A man in a white robe — the very opposite of Lethe's black one — was walking toward them from the other direction.
Step.
White and black hems brushed as the two parties passed one another.
"!"
Lethe froze and started to turn her head.
"Wait, Sim—"
But—
"Hey, check this out, Simon!"
"Yo! Have you ever met anyone your same color as jet-black?"
There were people around the boy. Friends his own age, chattering away noisily.
"Sister Lethe!"
At the sudden, much louder call, she whipped around. Lirinet was staring at her with a pout.
"How many times do I have to call you before you listen?"
"Ah... um... sorry."
"I said let's grab some food over there before we go! Come *on*!"
Lethe forced a smile.
"...Yes. Let's."
Having answered, she looked back once more.
The man in the white robe was already gone — vanished as if he'd been painted out of the picture.
Simon had swapped places with Erzsébet without a hitch and returned to his teammates' side, and in the meantime the situation had been rapidly brought under control.
Sasha was moved to a treatment center at once, and a decision was made to send her to the Dark Alliance via teleportation circle for more precise examination. She had yet to wake — but thankfully, her life was not in danger.
The Neutral Zone's militia groups arrived one after another, assessed the situation, and recovered the dead.
And when word spread that a priest named Figaro, who had coveted the Saintess's power, had trapped the residents inside a barrier and slaughtered them, outrage swept the entire Neutral Zone. Hostility toward Efnel swelled enormously.
Efnel's response, for its part, was one of mild bewilderment.
Whether by fortune or misfortune, the Paladin detachment en route to Figaro had been ambushed and neutralized by Lethe — and on that basis, Efnel flatly denied any connection between itself and the man. It had never recognized him as a Saintess, the academy stated officially; the whole affair was the lone act of terror of one Figaro.
Kizen, too, dispatched its Crows to Vengeance to get a handle on the situation.
Group 7 underwent several rounds of interrogation as well. Back at headquarters, a debate raged over whether Simon and Group 7's mission should be recorded as a success or a failure.
And then, at this most unexpected of moments, it was Vengeance — and Agent Block — who stepped forward to defend the students.
"The students bear no blame whatsoever. This failure rests entirely on us, on Vengeance."
The man who had stolen Sasha, 'Figaro,' had been a practitioner of at least 3rd-tier necromancer caliber — it was only natural the students couldn't stop him, Vengeance argued. Had we managed our personnel properly and assigned a legitimate mentor from the start, the outcome would have been different.
Kizen headquarters accepted the argument, and in the end, Vengeance alone stood to be disciplined.
"We're... we're so sorry. This is all because of us..."
When Camibarez and the students apologized, Block assured them that the mistake was indeed his organization's, and that with everything it had done in the Neutral Zone over the years, Vengeance wouldn't be disbanded over this.
Seywir, who found himself facing punishment from both Vengeance and the Dark Alliance, was summoned before the Alliance.
As for the students, all responsibility for the Kelso incident was wiped clean — but they decided to fill out their mission record by taking on one more assignment.
This time, however, they would do it properly: alongside 'Block,' the agent who had been their intended mentor from the very beginning.
"Our mission is the annihilation of the Sentinel Gang. I'm plenty sore about them taking a contract from Efnel in the first place — so while we're at it, we're tearing them out by the roots."
They had to take on yet another mission, yet the members of Group 7 were in high spirits.
And no wonder. After going through a man like Seywir, working under their real mentor Block felt smoother in a way that was hard to overstate.
Block was a living legend of the Neutral Zone underworld, a necromancer who embodied everything Vengeance stood for.
But even more than the students were grateful for the change of mentor—
"Agent! Try this~"
"Oh— oh?"
—the more grateful one was Block.
"You went out of your way for... for me? Th-thank you. Truly, thank you!"
Block suffered from a severe case of 'fear of modern kids.' When word came that Kizen students would be dispatched to him, he'd barely slept for days, and the Seywir affair had him tiptoeing around the students even more carefully.
But once he actually spent time with today's kids, they were nothing like the rumors. Kind, sharp students like these simply didn't exist anywhere else.
"And then? What happened after that? Tell us more!"
The moment Block started telling stories from his old days in the Neutral Zone, the students' eyes lit up and they clamored for him to talk all night long.
"You really want to hear? It's just an old war story..."
"Yes! Hurry up!"
Unlike Seywir, Block's tales were the genuine, blood-and-thunder article — so of course the students' attitudes toward listening were on another level entirely. Block, oblivious to all these undercurrents, could only gape at their enthusiasm.
And so, living alongside the students of Group 7, Block found himself overcoming his fear of modern kids — and the generational gap — in real time.
Sentinel. The gang's underground headquarters.
"Nnngh..."
The Slicked-Back Boss of the Sentinel Gang — the man who had masterminded Sasha's kidnapping — lay sprawled in a chair, groaning.
'Live long enough, and even I end up in a cell. Who'd have thought.'
He'd been beaten by those bratty little Kizen necromancers and handed over to the Neutral Zone militia, but his subordinates had paid out an enormous ransom to buy the Slicked-Back Boss his freedom.
BANG!
"Boss! We've got trouble!"
At the shout of a gang member bursting through the door, the Slicked-Back Boss's face twisted into a scowl.
"What is it *now*? You're killing my head."
"It's — it's necromancers—!"
THUD!
The gang member toppled over, the whites of his eyes showing. Behind him strolled in a girl with sky-blue hair streaming behind her, wearing a pretty, cheerful smile.
"Hi there. We meet again, mister."
The Slicked-Back Boss shot to his feet as though he'd seen a ghost.
"You're that...! The necromancer girl from Kizen!"
The gang members who'd risen from their seats drew knives, faces hard and ugly.
Meilin, utterly unbothered, unfolded the magic circle she'd prepared in advance and floated it up toward the ceiling.
⟨ Pierce of Blizzard ⟩
Ice spikes began raining from the ceiling in every direction. The gang members charging forward were struck down mid-stride, sent flying backward or sprawling across the floor.
Hiiiiiiiiissss—!
Next, a green poison began spreading through the basement.
"Hahaha! Poison gas, coming through!"
Dick and Camibarez made their entrance as well. Dick hurled enchanted nets left and right and splashed sticky poison across the floor, while Camibarez fired off a barrage of Blood Bullets — and occasionally, with that tiny frame of hers, displayed astonishing physical prowess.
The hideout, in particular, was cramped and underground. The moment the poison gas spread, dozens of gang members began collapsing in an instant.
The kids, meanwhile, moved through the gas without a mask or any protective gear whatsoever, not so much as coughing.
"Damn it all! H-how did you even find this place?!"
The Slicked-Back Boss hid behind the sofa, his face gone rigid.
"Where are all my core-opened fighters?!"
"Agent Block is handling those."
At the voice suddenly sounding behind him, the Slicked-Back Boss's heart lurched and he spun around.
Walking toward him was the blue-haired boy — the very man who had captured him in the first place, the one who had haunted his nightmares every night since.
"They'll all be down by now. Agent Block is a 3rd-tier powerhouse, after all."
"Ggh — you!"
The Slicked-Back Boss drew his sword, expression hard as stone.
"Oh, and by the way — you bribing your way out of the militia? That was my idea."
Simon smiled.
"We needed to find your home base."
"You little bastard!!"
The Slicked-Back Boss charged, sword raised — only to be caught square by Simon's kick and sent rolling across the floor.
"Extorting the residents, throwing your weight around... Time to settle the account for every last piece of dirty work."
Simon stepped up onto him and clamped a pair of cuffs around the boss's wrist as he spoke.
The Sentinel Gang had endured for a full twenty years. Tearing it all down took a single night.