"So you dare to lie to the royal family?"
Janeus looked at the man sitting before her—Ron Irus. His brown hair fell over his face, obscuring one of his eyes and making it difficult to see his full expression, yet she could clearly see the dull, vacant gaze of someone who had lost his soul.
"I apologize, Your Highness, but I would never dare harbor such intentions."
He lowered his head, appearing flustered like a coward caught in error. His long hair concealed his face even further, heightening his pitiful appearance.
"Your answer is truly foolish, do you know that? The only ones who would want to save everyone are either a synthetic intelligence machine—or a philosopher who has spent his entire life in a small village. Besides… you do not need me, an imperial princess with minimal authority. There are clearly countless other options."
"So, what exactly do you mean by coming here?"
Janeus picked up a small bell beside the table, signaling that she was about to ring it. Ron raised his head and met her gaze.
"If I may, Your Highness, what I am about to say may be disrespectful to you."
"The fact that you are in this room already is disrespectful. Speak."
Ron drank the tea in his cup in one go. Janeus watched him with an oddly focused expression.
He tapped his finger twice against the armrest—so lightly that no sound was produced—set the cup down, and closed his eyes.
"…I have a friend. He has passed away. Some time ago, he spoke to me about a path he wished to see—but did not wish to walk. He was a wanted criminal… but he died by my hand. Or rather, I betrayed him. However, I—"
"I am not interested in your story. I am not a psychologist. Tell me—what is your intention?"
Janeus cut him off. Ron fidgeted with his fingers, interlacing them together. He let out a sigh before replying.
"Ambition. I, like everyone else, possess my own ambition. And mine is to witness the end of this story."
"Vague. I am not a philosopher. One last chance—state your meaning clearly."
"I want to see the ending of the world, regardless of the path taken."
"…Very well. You can explain that to the interrogators later and see whether you are a heretic or not. So now—why are you here?"
Janeus realized something and covered her face with one hand, as though dealing with a headache caused by the man before her.
"I wish to tell you what I know about the acts of terror…"
…
Janeus opened her eyes.
She was in a luxurious room, its furnishings and paintings proclaiming the nobility befitting a princess.
Beside her were her friends from the academy—those she trusted enough to allow into the private reception room reserved for high-ranking guests of the tournament.
However, for some reason, everyone here behaved as if they had just awakened from sleep—dazed and unfocused—despite continuing their various actions.
"Was what he said… true?"
Janeus murmured to herself. She silently surveyed the room. Everything appeared normal—until she noticed Promet, drenched in sweat that soaked through his white shirt, and Hadelus, who sighed in exhaustion before exchanging a glance with Promet. Only then did she gradually realize something was wrong.
'Promet? Hadelus?'
But before she could act, a servant appeared behind the sofa she was sitting on, carrying a tray of water as she passed by.
Janeus grabbed a nearby fountain pen and leaned forward, stabbing it straight through the maid's chin.
Janeus remained seated calmly on the sofa as the girl's head fell against its side. The others in the room turned at the sound, but before they could fully react, another piercing sound rang out.
Promet—wearing his usual calm and cold expression—bent down and stabbed straight into a rat hiding beneath the sofa. It let out a shrill squeal before collapsing, dead.
He stood up and glanced at his companions. They were panicked and fearful—but quickly regained their composure. That was only natural for those forged within the top-ranked academy.
'Are we under attack?'
That was the first thought that arose.
And just five seconds after Janeus killed the maid, the wall behind her was destroyed. Smoke and dust filled the air.
The room, which had contained only five people—Janeus, Promet, Hadelus, Luce, and Alaxin—was obliterated in an instant. A sudden explosion engulfed the space, sending all five of them reeling and losing their balance.
Clang!
A blade flew toward Janeus but was blocked by a fragment of iron armor. The figure standing between the two had light red hair, wore a knit cap, and donned iron armor beneath a layer of cloth.
"Jinxite, escort us!"
Luce shouted. Her blue hair fluttered wildly as mana inscriptions surrounded her body. Golden and blue sigils shimmered with white light like a miniature galaxy, encircling her arms and forming a black tattoo shaped like a tentacle coiling around them.
The attackers gradually emerged from the gray-white smoke. Their bodies were slick with reddish-brown fluid, naked, and most of those who appeared were women.
"Promet! How's your leg?"
Hadelus looked down at his own arm and clenched his wrist tightly. Veins bulged across his arm as his muscles swelled like inflated balloons. Behind him, Promet collapsed to one knee, covering his mouth with one hand as he began to mutter an incantation to summon something—when a door suddenly opened, and three figures stepped inside.
"Sorry to interrupt. Might you have a moment?"
Jax, Emma, and Rack were there. Behind them, black threads wrapped tightly around their necks.
The hollow eyes of the three stared unblinking at the enemy before them.
"Are you the ones he spoke of?" Janeus asked.
Crack—
The ceiling began to collapse, revealing a girl fleeing from a gigantic hand—it was Wellay.
"The third layer of reality?"A deep, resonant voice echoed from the void, numbing everyone's senses.
Wellay screamed, "Phelion! After more than three hundred years, you still cannot abandon your chains?!"