A master of ki uses it even while walking. Each step clings to the ground, pulling them forward with controlled force. Only by anchoring themselves with ki can they move faster and with greater strength.

In this sense, Hughes was not the typical master of ki. His steps were light, his manner casual. His presence was almost unnoticeable, to the point where one could easily forget about him. Yet, his unique sense of ease still hinted at the confidence of someone formidable.

The man called Hughes was a mystery. Noticing Tircanzaka, he approached with a carefree gait.

“Tir!”

Tircanzaka looked at him with a hint of surprise.

[Hue? Why aren’t you where you should be? Why are you here?]

“Just came to see you, Tir.”

[Hmm?!]

He flashed her a natural smile and then, in a playful tone, turned to Shey.

“I asked Tir to do it. To help the workers escape. While they’re scattering outside, we’ll have an easier time slipping away unnoticed.”

His explanation was like that of an eager child seeking approval. Shey nodded, yet something felt off. The face, the movements, the speech—all matched, but something was different.

It was like a faint, metallic click in her chest—a subtle nudge from the uncanny intuition shaped by dozens of deaths. Following this instinct, Shey moved.

“Shey!”

Startled as if awakening, Shey replied.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Why are you drawing your sword?”

“Huh?”

She noticed her hand resting on her sword, half-unsheathed, and quickly realized what she had almost done. If he hadn’t pointed it out, she would have slashed at his right arm.

The memory was fresh—she had once nearly cut off his arm, which became a recurring joke between them. Acting nonchalant, Shey sheathed her weapon.

“Oh, this? Don’t worry. Just a habit.”

“A peculiar habit. Well, some people can’t feel safe without holding a sword.”

He smiled smoothly, brushing off her excuse. Again, Shey felt something was off. Hughes had been suspicious from the start, his behavior never truly settling into something familiar.

Hughes was the kind of person who wouldn’t surprise her with any strange act. Even if a top-ranked warrior suddenly surrendered, she would suspect Hughes’s involvement. Trying to rationalize it felt like losing.

[…Curious.]

Tircanzaka, too, sensed something odd. She touched her chest, feeling the faint beat beneath her skin. Normally, his presence would elicit a stir, her heart racing with anticipation. But now, there was nothing. Had her feelings changed? Perhaps. Human emotions are fickle.

Concealing her disappointment, Tircanzaka called to him.

[Hue. Why didn’t you call for me? I would have come to you.]

“Could I summon the progenitor at will?”

[You’ve never hesitated to do so before.]

“Today, I just felt like coming out to meet you.”

Something was definitely off. The voice, the mannerisms, and the face were his, yet the way he acted felt wrong. Tircanzaka, who had fought countless battles, trusted her intuition.

[Hue. Isn’t it time you returned the card I gave you?]

“My card? What card?”

[Have you forgotten the card you gave me?]

“Cards aren’t exactly rare. I have plenty.”

Heart one—life, blood, or vitality. Tircanzaka remembered, and he should have as well. Her suspicion solidified as her expression turned cold.

[Well, take it if you know where it is.]

“Where did you put it?”

In none other than her own body.

Feigning innocence, his smile turned sickeningly sweet, and Tircanzaka clenched her fist, her anger resonating with the shadows around her.

[What did you do to Hue?]

“What did I do? That question’s backward. A better question is, what did he do to me?”

Even before the progenitor’s wrath, he remained unphased—not feigned indifference but genuine. He lacked neither knowledge nor emotion; he possessed plenty of both. Yet his calmness reflected someone who had lost himself, someone bereft of fear.

Tircanzaka found this eerie. His poise was familiar, yet not entirely the same.

[The Holy Sword Brigade…?]

She dismissed her guess just as quickly.

[No, you’re different. Those fools are annoyingly rigid, but you have a certain… looseness.]

“Thank you for the compliment, my lady. I’m flattered.”

[By ‘looseness,’ I mean I find you revolting.]

As she advanced, the shadows closed around him. Should Tircanzaka will it, the darkness would drown him.

[You still haven’t answered my question. Peasant, speak now, or I’ll kill you. I’ll drain your blood until there’s nothing left but a speck and let you suffer eternally.]

“Could you really?”

Feigning a coy smile, he cradled his face with his hands.

“Could you really treat this face so cruelly?”

Of course. Tircanzaka was not one to be swayed by sentimentality. Recognizing the difference, she knew she could act rationally. She always had, and she would again, but for a brief moment, her resolve wavered.

“Are you hesitating? How cute. You received something from him, didn’t you?”

In that instant, he caught a glimpse of her hesitation. Her gaze hardened as well.

“The reason why you followed us here. It wasn’t a political maneuver. If it were, you’d make your intentions known. Personal revenge? No, that doesn’t fit. That leaves one possibility—purely, aimlessly, following with no clear purpose. It was only a guess, but it’s the right one. So the invasion of the Military State was his idea after all.”

Enraged at revealing her vulnerabilities, Tircanzaka raised her hand. Her dark knights advanced, blades of shadow pointed at him.

[You’ve crossed too many lines. Do you not value your life?]

Hilde, however, remained unfazed. She touched the shadowed blade aimed at her neck, flashing a sinister grin.

“But you won’t actually attack, will you? Is this face too hard for you to harm? Just how precious was the thing he gave you?”

[Tch…]

“Heh. It’s clear now. All of you here are following him, having received something….”

Sensing something, Hilde collapsed abruptly, as if pulled down. A hidden blade cut through the space where she’d stood.

“Tch.”

Shey’s form emerged from the shimmering air, her sneak attack missed. Rising gracefully, Hilde taunted.

“Oh? So you didn’t hesitate, even looking at a friend’s face?”

“Face? Hah, that’s nothing.”

“Is that so? Are you experienced, or just naturally heartless? Given your age, I’d guess the latter… intriguing.”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

Shey scoffed.

In her many cycles, she had seen it all—friends today, foes tomorrow. She had been betrayed countless times, and comrades had turned on her, faces twisted in malice. A familiar face meant nothing to Shey, who had slain the same person repeatedly.

Sizing up her opponent, Shey drew her swords, brimming with hostility.

“If you have any last words, say them now. Both I and Tircanzaka are busy.”

“I didn’t come to fight. An acquaintance introduced me. He suggested I find you.”

“He? You mean Hughes?”

“Yes. He said you might help me recover what I’ve lost.”

“If you’ve lost something, find a fence or just forget it.”

“I already tried. That’s why I ended up like this.”

Hilde laughed, her demeanor devoid of animosity. But as she composed herself, her face shifted. The familiar visage of Hughes melted away, replaced by a distinctly feminine countenance.

“My name is Hilde, so named.”

Fully transformed, Hilde faced Shey.

“Shey, I have a request. If you grant it, I’ll tell you something you want to know.”