I Returned with the Cheat Holy Sword

[-♬]
"You look like you’re in a good mood?"

Rarely, the Hero was humming to herself.
…The fact that she, of all people, was doing that was terrifying in itself, but regardless, she kept on.
Ever since Carlyle had met Raiza yesterday and rejected her, she had been like this.

"Were you really that anxious? That I might abandon you, Hero?"
[In truth, I wasn’t anxious.]
"What?"

[I’m not the type to forgive a traitor.]
"…Even though you never treat me well, what’s this talk about betrayal."
[Even between exploiter and exploited, there is still a bond of trust, don’t you think?]
"…"

With a face that thick, there was no point in even trying to argue.
"Anyway, Hero."
[What is it.]

"The fact that there are demon worshipers near the Imperial Palace means… something big will happen soon, doesn’t it?"
[…Hmm.]
The Hero let out a sigh that carried agreement.

Even if they had been wiped out by Raiza, thinking the matter was resolved just because of that would be far too naïve.
Carlyle, who had tangled with them countless times, could say this with absolute certainty.
They were like cockroaches.

If they had already been visible to the naked eye, it meant that beneath the surface, they were crawling in numbers endless enough that killing them all would still not be enough.
…So the fact that a purge order was given means the Palace is at least aware to some degree.
The incomprehensible part was that, even so, they were still pushing ahead with the ceremony.

People could die—what could possibly make the Grand Parade so important?
[…If the Empire’s greatest event were canceled because of outside pressure, imagine the humiliation. Their pride would never allow it.]
The high and mighty always cared about things like that.

At Gray’s words, Carlyle sighed deeply.
The problem was, of course the enemy would exploit that tendency.
"Want to bet on when the disaster breaks out during the Parade?"

[Let’s see… three days?]
"I’ll bet within two."
Carlyle and the Holy Sword traded small, frivolous laughs.
To others, it might sound like the deranged rambling of madmen—but these two had already witnessed the end of the world together.

At this point, even situations like this no longer brought a sense of crisis…
[The initiative lies with the enemy. Do you have any guess as to the point of attack?]
‘I can’t say for sure. But one thing is certain.’

[What is it?]
‘It will happen where I am.’
Every single “abnormal incident” up until now had followed Carlyle’s path.

This time [N O V E L I G H T] would be no different.
‘The best outcome would be striking first and sealing it. But before that, something will likely erupt.’
Soon.

Something would happen where he was.
So the best he could do was to keep his vigilance sharp.
While he was turning this over in his mind, he spotted Illia walking with Sior from the distance.

"Your Highness! Have you been well?"
"…Yes, Mr. Carlyle. It’s been a while."
And—

From the moment she greeted him, it was obvious at a glance that Illia was not well.
Usually diligent and lively, the princess looked listless and drained.
"The Palace… only holds bad memories for me."

When he asked if she was unwell, that was the answer she gave.
"In fact, every time I’ve come to the Palace, I’ve never once felt well…"
Illia’s face was pale and wan as she said it.

What should he call it.
…It felt as if old trauma had resurfaced.

Sior stroked his chin, glancing between Carlyle and Illia.
"Well, for now, let’s attend the banquet."
He shrugged as he spoke.

"A bite to eat might make her feel better."
"…Aren’t you thinking a bit too simply?"
The girl was clearly terrified, and his first thought was to stuff food into her stomach?

Though Carlyle didn’t know the details, there was no way she had good memories of the Palace when she had been driven out and forced to rely on the Academy for her identity.
"No matter how complicated a problem is, it’s often solved by starting with the simplest action. Has she eaten at all today? How can she have any strength? You have to make her eat, even if by force."
"…"

Well, that much was true.
***
The banquet, they said, was not to be held in the main palace where the royals resided, but in a separate palace.

Apparently, it was there that most of the powerful nobles, eager to make their presence felt during the Parade, would begin their subtle battles for influence.
Not that Carlyle cared about that.
It’s ridiculously huge, though.

That was all he thought as he looked around.
He had never before seen architecture that so thoroughly conveyed the sense of “grandeur.”
The Imperial Palace he had seen was only a ruined citadel, scorched and twisted by the energy of Hell—a nightmare husk.

[It’s the seat of power for the entire continent. This much is only natural.]
The Empire held half the continent, an irreplaceable superpower.
So of course the gathering place of its rulers would be of overwhelming scale and magnificence.

"You think you can find the banquet hall? If you’re worried about getting lost, I’ll assign you a guide."
That Sior would say such a thing was only natural.
"What about you, Dean?"

"I’m one of the stars of this event. If I go now, I’ll draw too much attention. Better for us to split up here."
"…Ah, right, you were someone important."
"…"

At any rate.
Carlyle received the order to fill Illia’s stomach, empty from a day of fasting, and moved on.
"Careful."

On the way, Illia—her face visibly worsening—stumbled.
He sat her down for a moment and tried to talk.
"…I think what you need is rest, not food. Should we go to the infirmary?"

"No, it’s not that—"
Illia gasped.
"It’s not that I’m sick… it’s that something nearby is making me unwell."

"…What?"
"It’s hard to explain, but every time I was in the Palace before, I always felt this way…"
"…"

Carlyle looked at her in silence.
…Hmm.
He had assumed her condition was just poor health or trauma.

But hearing her now, perhaps it was something else.
It felt like something about this very space was inherently incompatible with her.
If so—

"Can you sense what it is nearby?"
"Yes, um, to some degree…"
"Then could you guide me to it?"

"…What?"
"If something harmful is here, it needs to be dealt with. We won’t be here only briefly, after all."
He would have to see what trickery was at work.

Even as Illia protested that he needn’t do this for her, Carlyle calmed her and walked with her.
"H-here. I feel something around here…"
As she spoke, Carlyle scanned the place.

…There was nothing special about it.
Just a slightly overgrown spot along some garden path.
An unremarkable, quiet place, where few would pass.

But—
"…"
As he drew closer, Carlyle stopped in his tracks.

He froze in place, staring intently.
"…"
Heh.

Heh-heh. You bastards…
"That’s bold. Lunatics."
Carlyle muttered the curse under his breath.

Gray had guessed three days, Carlyle had guessed tomorrow. But apparently those were mild predictions.
…Because what he was sensing now was a warning bell that something would erupt today.
"Princess Illia, are you sure it’s this place?"

"Y-yes… I’m not certain, but…"
"No. You found it perfectly."
"Eh…?"

Now that they were here, he could feel it clearly.
A faint malice still lingered in the air.
…Demonic energy.

Tracing it to its source, he kicked aside some brush and found a circle.
"This… what is this?"
"Most likely the cause of Your Highness’s poor condition."

It was a summoning circle, used to call something from Hell.
…And it was already “spent.”
[How…?]

The Holy Sword murmured blankly.
[How could something like this exist so openly inside the Palace? A demonic summoning ritual isn’t something you prepare in a short time.]
There were too many things that made no sense.

Such a ritual wasn’t usually something that went unnoticed. It required sacrifices, a foul ceremony.
How could they have done it inside the Palace, with all its constant flow of people?
The very fact that it was here, that it had already been used, and that no uproar had occurred—

It was absurd.
But at least one conclusion could be drawn.
The Palace has already been thoroughly infiltrated.

This place was already tainted.
The Emperor may have sought to “clean house” around the Parade, but the rot had already reached the inside.
[And how did this little girl manage to find it?]

It was no surprise the Holy Sword said that.
The ritual wasn’t ongoing. The circle was already complete and used.
Even with Carlyle’s heightened senses—those of the Hero herself—he hadn’t detected it until he came very close.

And yet Princess Illia had led them right to it.
Just by following her own intuition.
She clearly had some kind of innate ability.

Something, Carlyle felt, very important.
But—
I’ll ask her later.

For now, there was urgent business.
I think I know what was summoned.
Carlyle’s eyes swept the perimeter of the completed circle.

[What?]
…A poison-wielding creature. They call it a Hydra.
[-]

For a moment, the Holy Sword forgot to breathe.
…At least, that was how Carlyle felt.
And he knew exactly why.

With a wry smile, he spoke.
Familiar name, isn’t it?
[…Not for a moment have I forgotten.]

Of course not.
…For it was the name of the demon that had killed Gray’s father in the previous timeline.
***

-Quest Info
▶ [Quest: Escort the Duke of Chasefield] has begun.
▶ This is a highest-priority quest. Depending on the result, the state of the key figure “the Hero” will change.