Arc-4 Ch-06

It’s cold.

So cold it feels like every part of my body has frozen solid.

Though it’s just past noon on a clear, sunny day, it’s winter, and I’m surrounded by floating islands suspended in a sky streaked with drifting clouds.

My nose is about to start running, and my fingertips are trembling from the chill.

The airbike I’m riding is a hand-me-down from the duke’s family—far too extravagant for a frontier noble like me. Ever since it came into my possession, I’ve barely touched it. Just the thought of scratching such a prized vehicle has kept it stored under a tarp in the warehouse, only seeing daylight every few months for basic maintenance or to refresh my memory on how to operate it.

Most of the time, I walk or take a carriage to the airport.

A personal airbike? It’s so out of place for someone from the Bartfort family that even finding space to keep it is a headache.

But right now, time is everything. The situation is only growing worse.

The fastest way to get a grasp of what’s happening is to go to the scene myself.

I’m no genius. I’m just an ordinary guy who trips over flat ground half the time.

If I want to stay ahead, the only choice I have is to move before anyone else does.

It’s been a few hundred seconds since I dashed out of the house and jumped on the airbike. Finally, the airport comes into view.

The beauty of an airbike is that you can ignore terrain and obstacles, cutting a direct path to your destination.

I gradually reduce speed and prepare to land in an open field near the airport.

It’d be pathetic to race out here in a panic only to crash and end up too injured to lead.

As soon as the airbike touches down, I leave the keys in the ignition and sprint toward the airport.

Family or machine—there’s no contest. The choice is obvious.

Flying through the winter sky has left my entire body numb, but my head and chest burn like they’re on fire.

If I keep pushing myself forward, the feeling in my limbs will return eventually.

For now, I keep running—following the sound of growing voices.

The closer I get to the airport, the louder the commotion becomes, and the denser the crowd pressing toward the scene.

“Move! Out of the way!”

I bark at the idle onlookers blocking the path, shoving past them without hesitation.

Some begin to protest, but the moment they realize who I am, they hurriedly step aside.

I make a beeline for the lone airship docked at the airport, surrounded by a swelling crowd. A knight I recognize spots me and offers a salute.

Around the scheduled airship, the air buzzes with uneasy tension.

Passengers, following the soldiers’ directions, wear exhausted, stricken expressions.

Air pirate attacks aren’t something commoners usually experience—most of them rarely travel far.

Typically, it’s resource transports or noble-exclusive luxury vessels that are targeted.

There’s no logical reason for pirates to attack a ship carrying only commoners.

I recall everything I learned about air pirate tactics from my time in the military.

This attack doesn’t align with their usual patterns. It wasn’t a random strike.

It was deliberate. Coordinated.

That realization hits like a punch to the gut, sending rage boiling through me until I feel like my skull might burst.

But first—I have to confirm everyone’s safety.

“Leon! Over here!”

I turn toward the voice and see my older brother approaching, giving orders to nearby soldiers and knights as he moves.

He must have sent Colin to inform me. Colin’s still too green to manage a crisis like this.

“What’s the situation!?”

“The airship sustained only minor damage. There were almost no passenger casualties. A few are shaken, so we’ve summoned a doctor to examine them.”

“Any other injuries?”

“Some crew members were hurt during the fighting. Most are light injuries, but there are a few serious cases.”

“Anything else!?”

“Three escorts from the Roseblade family were killed. One survived, but he’s in critical condition and unable to speak.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

I know I’m acting like a disgrace of a lord.

But in moments like this, there’s no time to worry about appearances.

My family comes first. That’s all that matters right now.

Just then, a man I don’t recognize steps forward. Judging by his uniform, he’s part of the crew.

“Viscount, I’m the captain. I take full responsibility for what happened.”

“…You were in charge?”

“There’s no excuse. I’ll accept any punishment without objection.”

“Then tell me—where’s Angie!?”

“Your wife… was taken by the air pirates—!”

The moment those words register, my mind blanks.

By the time I snap back to reality, my brother’s face is right in front of mine.

My right arm is restrained by a knight, and someone’s holding me steady by the waist and back to keep me from lunging.

My left hand—my only free hand—is gripping the captain by the collar.

Apparently, I lost control the second I understood what he said and charged at him.

Judging by how prepared my brother was, he must’ve known I’d react like this.

That alone is enough to piss me off even more.

“Who did it!? Who the hell took Angie!?”

“Calm down, Leon! It’s not just Angie. Dorothea was taken too. So were Jenna and Finley.”

I slam my foot into a nearby wooden crate with everything I’ve got.

Whether it was already empty or I just kicked it too damn hard, I don’t know—but the crate flies through the air and explodes into splinters before it hits the ground.

“Gather every soldier we have! Even those off-duty or retired—get them all! Prepare every airship we can fly!”

“What are you planning!?”

“I’m going to rescue them! I’ll make those pirates regret ever laying a finger on my family! I’ll cut off every last one of their heads and leave their corpses to rot in the sky!”

“Leon! Calm down!”

“How the hell am I supposed to stay calm!?”

If I don’t take this rage out on something—on someone—I’m going to lose my mind.

I can’t control it.

Angie is pregnant.

And I can’t stop imagining what my sister and Finley might be going through right now.

I’ve seen too many women broken—or worse—after being taken as toys by air pirates.

If Dorothea-san is been captured, the Roseblade family will undoubtedly raise hell. In the worst case, it could spark a blood feud between our houses.

The more I think about it, the more I spiral. My mind conjures up one worst-case scenario after another, making me dizzy with dread.

Trying to calm my heart? That’s impossible right now.

“Report the airships that are ready for launch. I’m going to the scene. I’ll scour every inch for clues—no matter how small. And start interrogating the passengers. I want every single useful detail.”

I bark the order to a nearby knight while grabbing a self-defense longsword from the rack, jamming it roughly between my belt and pants.

In an air pirate case, the initial response is everything.

Delays only make things worse.

Most air piracy cases go cold because people waste precious time on protocol and paperwork. By the time anyone figures out who was on board or what cargo was lost, the pirates are long gone—and the victims are left with nothing but grief.

The skies have no mountains or rivers. No fixed borders. Countless loopholes for smugglers and pirates to slip through.

With enough fuel, supplies, and caution, an airship can disappear into the clouds—anywhere, anytime.

Even the largest ship is nothing more than a speck in the open sky.

Searching for one is like trying to find a grain of wheat in a desert.

It’s a fool’s game unless you act immediately.

“Calm down. Launching requires preparation. If you rush it, you’ll just waste time and manpower.”

“I am calm. I’m simply thinking about how to kill the bastards responsible.”

“All you’re thinking about is revenge.”

“If you stand in my way, even as my brother—I’ll cut you down. Now move.”

I shove past him.

If anyone blocks me right now, even family, they’re an enemy.

My brother’s not exempt from my fury.

Unless I vent this rage on something, I’ll snap.

Smack!

A sharp sting flares across my cheek.

I turn—familiar face. Of course. Her.

Now that I think of it, I hadn’t heard she was among the missing.

It’s a miracle I didn’t strike back in my fury.

On any other day, I’m a gentleman. Today isn’t one of those days.

“…So you’re safe, Deidere-san.”

“Shouldn’t that cool your overheated brain a little?”

“Get out of the way. This is an emergency.”

“You’re so blinded by rage you’re stumbling over your own feet.”

“I won’t repeat myself—move.”

I glare at her, eyes sharp with fury and killing intent.

I don’t care that she’s an earl’s daughter.

I’d defy the king himself if he tried to stop me.

I wasn’t raised to be a noble—I was thrown into it.

If trading my title and estate could guarantee Angie and the kids’ safety, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

“Shouldn’t your first priority be figuring out who is safe?”

She snaps her fingers, and soldiers step forward.

The moment I see the tiny figure in their arms, my knees give way.

Golden blonde hair. Crimson eyes. A perfect mirror of Angie.

Her face is stained with tears, snot, drool—a pitiful mess that my wife or mother would’ve wiped clean in seconds.

But even like this, my daughter is the most adorable thing in the world.

She seems scared of me, so I slowly drop the sword and approach without sudden movements. Hesitantly, she reaches out and clings to me.

“Welcome back, Ariel.”

“Papa!”

“There, there. You’re safe now.”

“Waaaah!”

Tears pour from her as she breaks down in my arms.

She’s usually distant with me, which stings. But right now, I’ll let her cling as long as she wants.

This kind of trauma can linger. Letting her cry is the least I can do.

As I cradle her gently, people around us begin to gather.

What’re you looking at? This isn’t a sideshow.

“Even the infamous knight melts in front of his daughter.”

“For my wife and kids, I’ll stoop to any low.”

“…Anyone who makes you an enemy is screwed.”

Rude.

I return favors tenfold.

Grudges, though? I return those with interest—and drag down every one of your friends while I’m at it.

As I notice the crowd flinching at my presence, I feel a tug at my leg.

“You okay, Lionel?”

“…”

Something’s off.

My son is glaring at me. That look hurts more than a blade.

He’s usually the first to run into my arms. Today, he’s keeping his distance.

Was hugging Ariel first a mistake?

But Lionel always lets her go first.

I’m too rattled to even read my own kids right now. Fatherhood is hell.

“He held back his tears until we reached Bartfort territory. He’s a strong boy. Praise him.”

“…Is that so? Well done, Lionel. You did great.”

“…”

His tiny arms wrap around me, and his shoulders tremble.

He was holding it in this whole time.

You were scared, weren’t you? You did your best.

I’ll buy you anything you want—just name it.

Having them safe in my arms is a relief.

The absolute worst-case scenario has been avoided.

But four are still missing.

“Yo! You holding up!?”

A loud, relaxed voice calls out behind me.

Dad and Colin have arrived. But so have others.

A kaleidoscope of hair colors fills my view.

Great. Why are you guys here too?

“Tell the garrison to prepare for deployment. We move soon.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Summon every available doctor in the territory to examine the passengers. If they refuse, drag them here by my authority.”

“Send word to the Roseblade family. They may dispatch their own airships if they wish.”

“Understood.”

“Bring Luce from the mansion. Seeing the children safe will help everyone.”

“Right away.”

Dad, my brother, and I rattle off orders, doing what we can in this critical window.

Time is everything. Action is the only solution.

I turn to head for the garrison—adjacent to the military airfield—when someone grabs my shoulder.

It’s His Highness Julius.

“Your Highness, with all due respect, can this wait? We’ll talk after this is resolved.”

“I understand the urgency. Let us assist.”

“Huh? I appreciate the sentiment, but this is Bartfort territory. It doesn’t warrant royal intervention.”

To be honest, I just don’t want to deal with them.

Every time the royal family gets involved, they saddle me with absurd tasks and unwanted rewards.

Titles, land, magical armor, medals—I don’t need any of it.

I don't run from responsibility, but I sure as hell don’t go looking for it either.

Go home already.

“This incident is likely tied to why we came to Bartfort territory. It’s not unrelated.”

“More options are better, right?”

Jilk and Greg step in to block my path.

So it is connected to them.

Why do you people keep dragging me into the capital’s disasters?

I want to ignore them and push forward, but they’re annoyingly solid.

Their dumb strength would be better used helping someone who actually needs it.

Your very existence is a curse to me. Get lost.

“Don’t be stubborn, Bartfort. Let’s cooperate.”

“This is a Bartfort matter. Stay out of it.”

“…”

I’m tired of this.

The longer we waste talking, the slimmer the chances of rescuing Angie and the others.

If you pull rank, I’ll assert my right as the lord of this territory.

The attack occurred in Bartfort airspace.

Our family has jurisdiction.

If the capital interferes and we lose precious time, I’ll never forgive you.

“Leon, His Highness has a point. Hear them out before deciding.”

“Your priority is their safety. I know you’re impatient, but consider all options.”

Even Dad and my brother are backing them.

Logically, I know they’re right.

But I hate these guys.

They broke Angie’s engagement. Then chased me down in the capital to recruit me.

Sure, that led to my marriage with her. And sure, they saved my life more than once during the war.

But that’s beside the point.

I was never cut out to be a noble. I can’t separate logic from emotion.

I clench my fists to rein in the storm building inside me.

Only the warmth of my children keeps me grounded.

I’ll rescue them.

And those pirates will die.

Not a single one will get away.

“…We’re not handling this here. Let’s return to the mansion. Keep gathering passenger intel and treating the wounded.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Dad, I’m taking the kids home. Please take command.”

“I’ll join you once things settle.”

“The airbike’s too dangerous. Brother, I’ll leave the transport to you.”

“Got it. Keep the kids close.”

“Let’s go. Deidere-san, I’m sorry to ask, but would you come with us?”

“Of course. For my sister’s sake, I’ll help however I can.”

I step into the carriage.

As the vehicle begins to move, its vibrations gently rocking the cabin, I stroke the heads of the twins clinging tightly to me on either side. Whether from sheer relief or exhaustion after crying themselves dry, their small bodies begin to sway with the motion until their eyes finally close.

I’m worn to the bone, but a mountain of responsibilities awaits.

Sleep may elude me for days.

Looking down at their peaceful faces—mirrors of Angie—I clench my fists.

In the deepest recesses of my heart, where I thought I had long sealed away my darkest impulses, something foul stirs once more.

A murderous, pitch-black intent rises from within.

※　※　※　※　※

Through the thick glass window, I catch the moment an armored suit explodes.

Built of steel and spellcraft, armored suits erupt when destroyed—ignited by explosive force, magical feedback, or the oil in their internal mechanisms. The more advanced the suit, the more it relies on enchantment, resulting in a sleek, humanoid design. The less sophisticated the model, the more it compensates with bulky, mechanical build.

By that measure, the suits aboard this airship were the lowest of the low—clunky, slow, poorly armed. Barely suitable for cargo work, let alone combat.

Against seasoned air pirates, they never stood a chance.

One suit has already been destroyed. Another blooms into a crimson fireball against the blue sky, scattering like a shattered flower.

The last one is being ruthlessly hunted down, utterly outmatched. It flails like a wounded animal, desperately retreating while the pirates toy with it.

The children stare out the window, eyes wide and vacant.

It’s their first time witnessing battle—their first encounter with death.

What passed through the minds of those knights in their final moments?

Were they driven by loyalty? A sense of duty? Perhaps regret?

We’ll never know. The living and the dead are divided by an unbridgeable chasm.

Like children tormenting insects for sport, the pirate suits circle the last defender, staying out of reach.

Its left arm has been twisted into mangled steel, and its right leg is missing entirely. Still, it swings its oversized lance in defiance.

Is it rejecting death—or simply hoping to land one final blow?

The pirates respond by casually raising their weapons.

Gunfire erupts.

The suit spasms beneath the onslaught, wracked by bullets for ten long seconds before its thrusters sputter and die.

A lifeless husk, it plummets through the clouds.

And with it, this airship has lost its last protector.

Panic spreads among the passengers like wildfire.

The captain pleads for order, his voice hoarse, but the terror is overwhelming.

After all, they’ve seen with their own eyes what happens to those who try to resist.

Across the cabin, through the opposite window, a ship draws near.

The one that’s been tailing us.

It’s no longer just “suspicious.”

It’s an air pirate vessel.

As it closes in, a violent jolt shakes the entire airship—likely the moment their boarding ramp connects.

How long until they breach the passenger cabin?

To experienced pirates, it’s a matter of seconds—hundreds at most.

In that narrow span of time, I must decide.

I must be ready to lay down my life.

Amid the rising chaos—gunfire, screams, metal cracking—I whisper to my children.

“Ariel, you have such a kind heart. Please grow up treasuring others. Your mother only ever wished for your happiness.”

“Mommy…”

“Lionel… You are Leon Fou Bartfort’s son. Live a life worthy of that name.”

“…”

How dreary—leaving my children with words soaked in noble pride.

I truly am a disappointing woman.

At the very least, I hold them close—tight enough to etch the feeling of my arms into memory—and kiss their foreheads with the love of a lifetime.

A parting blessing.

A final embrace they will never forget.

Then, reluctantly, I let go of their warm, fragile bodies and rise to my feet.

To protect my children, the passengers, and the crew—I will wager my life.

I’m no longer the daughter of a ducal house.

Not one of the exalted Redgraves of Holfort, but merely a viscountess now—one among many.

What matters is not my name, but how many lives my single life can save.

“I’m leaving Lionel and Ariel in your care.”

I say this to my sister-in-law and younger sister before turning to the cabin doors.

They’ve been battered again and again—kicked, struck—but the airship’s design is solid, reinforced for emergencies.

It won’t give way so easily.

Perhaps realizing this, the attackers switch tactics. A gunshot rings out.

They’re forcing the lock.

Each shot crashes through the air like thunder, drawing shrieks and sobs from the crowd.

Our makeshift barricade—tables, chairs, anything we could find—trembles with every impact.

After ten relentless blasts, the barrier collapses, and the doors creak open.

Several men stride into the cabin.

They reek of violence—matted hair, stained clothes, patchy beards, and crude, outdated firearms slung from shoulder to hip.

Their eyes gleam—not with rage, but cold calculation.

So these are air pirates.

I’ve seen illustrations in children’s books. Read about them in newspapers.

But facing them in person is a different matter entirely.

What do they want?

What can I offer?

I know how to negotiate—but with this many lives at stake, failure is not an option.

“What a mess. What do you want?”

I speak coldly, deliberately arrogant, commanding their attention.

Some animals throw themselves at predators to protect their young.

If they can do it, so can I.

The pirates hesitate, caught off guard by my brazen tone.

They exchange wary glances.

“This airship is full of commoners. You won’t find much profit here.”

A simple fact, and one they surely know.

If this were just about money, they’d be targeting merchant ships or noble caravans.

The presence of Bartfort and Roseblade women aboard this flight—it’s no coincidence.

We are the target.

And that is a weakness I can exploit.

“Even if you strip every passenger down to their undergarments, you’d barely scrape together ten thousand dia. The cargo is mostly letters and personal belongings—nothing you can sell.”

“Shut your mouth, woman!”

One of them snarls, raising his gun.

My heart thunders in my chest, but I keep my face impassive.

For a noble, mastering the art of deception is survival.

Smiling while burying rage. Mourning while planning revenge.

Virtue as performance. Composure as armor.

Lose that, and you lose everything.

“I’m only negotiating. We want to live. You want profit. Surely we can find common ground.”

“Why should we listen to you!?”

“I’m begging for my life. That’s all.”

The worst possible outcome would be a massacre.

These men destroyed armored suits without hesitation—they wouldn’t hesitate with civilians either.

But if I can convince them there’s value in keeping us alive, the passengers’ odds will rise.

If I must offer myself as a trade—then so be it.

If my life can buy theirs, it’s a price I’m willing to pay.

“My family may be newcomers to nobility—our title was only granted a few years ago—but we’re financially well-off. If it’s money you want, a ransom would be far more profitable.”

“…You’re a noble?”

“I boarded this ship for personal reasons, but yes—I am a viscountess.”

“Hah! Paying to save your own skin? How pathetic for a noble!”

“Ensure the safety of the passengers and remaining crew. In exchange, I’ll go with you as a hostage.”

“Kuhaha! You’ve got guts!”

Their laughter explodes in the cabin, shoulders shaking with jeers. Their mockery burns, but I’m quietly relieved. Even if my fate is uncertain—used, sold, or worse—the odds of survival for my family and the others have improved.

“Fine, we’ll take whatever valuables are left. But you’re coming with us.”

“Understood. I won’t resist, so long as you keep your promise.”

“Courageous, aren’t you? Too good to kill.”

“Wait!”

A sharp voice calls out. I turn—and there’s Jenna, glaring, soaked in sweat.

“She’s pregnant. Don’t manhandle her. If you need a hostage, take me.”

“Sis, don’t—!”

“Quiet, Finley. If anything happens to Angelica-san, Leon will never forgive me. He’s my brother. Take me instead.”

“Then I’m the better option! I’m younger and cuter. I’m way more valuable than Sis or Angelica-san!”

“Both of you, stop this nonsense!”

I never imagined my sister-in-law and younger sister would compete to become hostages.

This is absurd. The very sacrifice I tried to make is unraveling—undone by the very people I was trying to protect.

“Jenna, Finley—think this through. Leon wouldn’t blame you. He’d never—being soft on family is part of who he is.”

“If I walk away now, Mom and Dad will give me hell. Besides, my reputation’s already in the gutter.”

“When Big Bro really loses it, he’s the scariest in our family. If I run now, he’ll probably strip me and throw me out.”

“At the very least, we can act as shields. Right? More hostages mean a bigger payout.”

Their concern is touching—but it’s working against us.

The more hostages they take, the harder it becomes for Leon to act. He’ll hesitate, suffer, agonize over every move.

If he lost all of us—his wife, children, sister, and sister-in-law—I don’t think he’d recover.

“Then I’m the most valuable choice. The daughter of an earl outweighs a viscountess and two baron’s daughters.”

“What are you saying, Dorothea!?”

“Hey—stop!”

“Think rationally!”

Even Dorothea is throwing herself into the mix. The other two, I can almost understand. But Dorothea?

What kind of mind concludes this is a logical move?

“If I stood by and let you be taken, Nix-sama would never look at me again. A woman who trembles before pirates isn’t worthy of him. This is the perfect chance to prove myself.”

“““…”””

…She’s consistent, I’ll give her that. Every thought revolves around "Nicks-sama". Deirdre opens her mouth to say something but freezes when I glare at her.

If everyone becomes a hostage, the situation will spiral out of control.

Worse, who will take Lionel and Ariel safely back to Bartfort?

Someone must escape. Someone must carry word to Leon.

“This whole job was a mess, but this might turn out lucky. We’ve got nobles to ransom.”

“Where’s your family? They better be rich.”

“Any man who marries a woman like this must be loaded.”

“I am Angelica Fou Bartfort—wife of Viscount Leon Fou Bartfort.”

“What!?”

“No way… that Leon?”

“You mean the scarred knight? The one who crushed the Principality’s army again and again?”

The moment I speak his name, the jeering dies. The pirates freeze, murmuring.

Apparently, my husband has quite the reputation among criminals in the Holfort Kingdom and the shattered Fonoss Principality.

It’s hard to reconcile that image with the man who sulks without goodnight kisses and clings to me like a lost puppy.

“What’re you afraid of!? Kill her now!”

A new voice—sharp and full of malice—cuts through the tension.

A man pushes forward through the group. Unlike the rest, his appearance is refined, almost polished—but his frenzied tone betrays his intent.

“Boss, wait—she says she’s Leon’s wife.”

“Leon? That filthy upstart doesn’t deserve a woman like her! Kill her!”

“But boss, we need the money. Attacking this ship won’t even cover fuel.”

“Kidnapping these nobles will earn us a fortune.”

“Taking his wife might hurt him more than anything.”

The pirates attempt to calm him, clearly aware of the stakes.

So this unhinged man is their boss? The mastermind?

He thrashes like a child throwing a tantrum, barking orders without thought. His expression contorts as he spots Jenna and Finley.

“No way…”

“You’re alive…?”

Jenna and Finley pale, staring in disbelief.

If I’ve never seen this man, he must be tied to the Bartforts from before my marriage.

His smile is grotesque—handsome features warped by hatred.

A disgusting sneer full of twisted glee.

“Well, well. Jenna, Finley. Still pretending to be nobles, you little commoner rats?”

“We’re not pretending. We are nobles—true heirs to our father’s blood.”

“You were stripped of your titles long ago!”

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!”

Spittle flies from his mouth as he rages, veins bulging. He’s trembling.

He’s not angry—he’s deranged.

“Do you know him?”

“I never wanted to.”

“I thought he was dead… before you came, Angelica-san.”

“We cut ties long ago. I never dreamed we’d meet again.”

The sisters’ expressions darken. If this man has their lives in his hands, this could end in disaster.

Sweat drips from my brow, each second stretching into eternity.

“Fine. Take them.”

His tone changes, twisted with ecstasy.

“I’ll finally have my revenge. I’ll reclaim everything they stole from me.”

With that, we’re restrained.

Thankfully, the pirates seem to understand hostages must be treated carefully.

Surrounded, the four of us are forced toward the exit.

I glance back—briefly, hoping not to be noticed.

Lionel and Ariel stare back at me, faces streaked with tears.

Deirdre holds them tight, covering their mouths to stifle their sobs.

I silently pray the airship and everyone aboard survives.

If this is my last moment with them, I want my children to remember me with dignity.

“Prepare yourself. You’ll pay for everything you’ve done to me.”

“Get over yourself, you worthless scum.”

“Die, Rutart.”

Enraged, the man—Rutart—strikes Jenna and Finley across the face.

So that’s his name.

I don’t know him. I can’t predict what he’ll do next.

I only pray my children are returned safely to Leon.

Closing my eyes, I focus on one memory—

The kiss we shared this morning, before I left.

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳

Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

Happy New Year!

For the first post of the year, this is quite a violent chapter. (sweat)

Rutart appears, following the rule that villains are tenacious.

While many original characters in this work have reformed, this guy remains a villain.

He’s even more twisted than in the original, so expect him to be a unique character.

Addendum: At the request of the client, an illustration was drawn by Rimuru Yamada-sama. Thank you very much.

Rimuru Yamada-sama: Pixiv (Note: Adult content warning)

I’d love to hear your opinions and feedback to motivate me moving forward.