Hirai Yukari had come to the apartment where Shana and Wilhelmina lived together.
This place had practically become a buffer zone between two worlds—those violent clashes involving the Crimson Denizens, the mission of Flame Hazes, and conflicts beyond ordinary comprehension clearly weren't things suitable for Yukari's parents, ordinary people, to know about. To avoid dragging unrelated people into danger, and to prevent unnecessary suspicion, this apartment had silently become their mutual "safe house."
Unlike previously, when they had to speak quietly in Yukari's room, constantly wary of noises outside, in this apartment belonging to the Flame Hazes, they could finally drop all pretense.
To her parents, Yukari had simply said she was "going to a friend's place to study."
During the time Shana had stayed with the Hirai family, this girl, cute in appearance but always carrying seriousness beyond her years, had long earned the complete trust and affection of Yukari's parents. Even Wilhelmina, who had visited as a "guardian," though reserved and somewhat cool in temperament, had shown such a steady and proper demeanor that adults naturally relaxed their worries.
So when Yukari mentioned going to Shana and Wilhelmina's apartment, her parents didn't think much of it, considering it an ordinary interaction between girls. At most, they reminded her, "Don't trouble them."
In the living room, Shana suddenly asked Yukari to borrow her necklace. Yukari didn't know what Shana intended, but out of trust, she still took off the necklace and handed it over.
Shana accepted it, placed the necklace onto the sofa, and then… she directly stepped onto the sofa cushion with her white-socked right foot, landing right next to the necklace. The girl crossed her arms, looking down from above at the necklace, her dark, profound eyes narrowed slightly, brimming with an unquestionable intensity.
"Spill it! You're still hiding something from me, aren't you!"
...So, what exactly was the meaning behind Shana's behavior just now?
Nitocris couldn't guess, nor did she dare ask.
"My intuition tells me you're plotting something dangerous again," Shana leaned forward slightly, her deep eyes locked tightly onto the golden pendant on the sofa, aggressively pressing, "There are no outsiders here now, so you must explain clearly, completely, and without missing a single detail everything you've been hiding from me!"
"Umm… It's not particularly dangerous, actually…"
"Hah! You really are hiding something from me!"
"???"
Wait a second, Shana—was that whole intimidating interrogation just now a bluff?
And I actually fell for it and exposed myself foolishly?
Tch… since when did this girl Shana become this sharp?
From this day forward, Nitocris could never again mock Yukari for being exposed by Shana on the commercial street—after all, she wasn't doing much better herself.
Wilhelmina brought several cups of tea from the kitchen, then sat down on the sofa alongside Shana and Yukari. Together with "Crown-and-Sash of Fantasies" Tiamat and Alastor, the God of Retribution, they prepared for the coming session of honest confessions. However, before beginning, Nitocris asked them a question first.
"What do you think the meaning of a Flame Haze's existence is?"
Nitocris made her voice solemn, "I know this might be a question without a correct answer—just like a thousand people having a thousand different Hamlets. What I want is your truest thoughts. Each of you can share them… After you've spoken, I'll share my thoughts as well."
Shana, Yukari, and Wilhelmina exchanged glances. A rare silence filled the air, as all three fell into deep contemplation.
The meaning of Flame Haze… or rather, what Flame Hazes meant to each of them?
Yukari wasn't excluded—even though she wasn't a Flame Haze but merely a human, Nitocris equally wanted to know her answer.
"To preserve the balance and order of the world."
The first to respond was Alastor.
As an embodiment of the rules of the Crimson Realm, Alastor had indeed changed greatly due to his encounters with Mathilde, Shana, and countless others, gradually learning the warmth of emotions. Yet, despite being endowed with numerous emotions and bonds, some boundaries still couldn't be crossed. He couldn't betray his mission—this had been decided since his birth. The same was true for other Crimson Gods; from their existence's inception, they had always adhered to certain rules.
As the God of Retribution, his duty was precisely to preserve the world's balance and order, and in his view, this was also the Flame Hazes' mission… If Flame Hazes didn't exist, both the human world and the Crimson Realm would have long since been destroyed.
"Agreement confirmed."
Tiamat's reply was the same as Alastor's.
Yukari: "…To protect humans from being devoured by Crimson Denizens."
Wilhelmina: "To hunt down Denizens who threaten the world… de arimasu."
Shana: "To serve as guardians and judges…"
Once everyone's answers had settled, Shana turned her gaze towards the golden pendant on the table: "Then, what's your opinion? In your view, what should the meaning of Flame Hazes' existence be?"
The air seemed to freeze at this moment.
Wilhelmina's fingertips tightened almost imperceptibly—she clearly remembered how Nitocris, not too long ago, had declared in front of her that the current Shana was closest to the ideal form of a Flame Haze. Yet even now, despite receiving such praise, Shana's answer hadn't satisfied Nitocris. It felt as if Shana's reply, although not incorrect, still failed to touch upon the true answer Nitocris held in her heart.
In the stagnating air, a silent sigh seemed to drift by.
"In my view, there is only one true meaning behind the existence of Flame Hazes, but none of you arrived at the same answer as mine."
After a brief silence, Nitocris spoke slowly:
"The Flame Hazes' true reason for existence should be to create a world that no longer needs Flame Hazes."
To this world, whether Flame Hazes or Crimson Denizens, both were anomalies—abnormal existences that should not exist.
Crimson Denizens were predators who acted recklessly in the human world. As long as they existed, tragedies and distortions would continually be created.
Flame Hazes were pitiful people born from tragedies, and they were avengers as well. Victims and sword-bearers at the same time, forced to hunt down one kind of "abnormality" while existing as "abnormalities" themselves.
Answering humanity's cries for help, Nitocris's purpose was to drive out all such "abnormalities."
This world should belong to humans and be controlled by humans. The masters of the human world should be humans—not Flame Hazes, not Crimson Denizens, not gods.
Not long ago, while passing through a certain city repairing the "Torches" that were about to burn out, Nitocris had walked past a silent house.
To others, it was nothing more than the ordinary residence of a woman in her fifties living alone. Her steps were slightly slow, daily tasks occasionally difficult, yet she stubbornly refused all help, guarding the empty home year after year.
But in Nitocris's eyes, the truth of the house was suffocatingly cruel. This place should not have been so silent. There should have been a husband who loved his wife dearly, and a daughter in her bright youth, attending high school.
They had existed, yet were mercilessly devoured by a Crimson Denizen. Even their existence became its nourishment; reality was twisted at will. The "harmonious family of three" was distorted into a "never-married woman living alone." All warmth and memories were wiped clean, leaving behind only an empty shell.
Nitocris also knew of a regret that had never had the chance to be resolved.
Just before the tragedy, the woman had passed through a park while buying groceries and happened to see her daughter kissing a boy. Enraged, she stormed home, and a fierce argument broke out. In the middle of it, she accidentally tore the daughter's cherished bracelet.
After calming down, both regretted it deeply. The mother carefully picked up every broken piece, trying to repair that keepsake. The daughter, in turn, bought a cake, wanting to go home to apologize, to seek her mother's understanding and blessing for the relationship.
Yet on that hopeful path home, the girl was attacked. The Crimson Denizen, infamous for its greed, drained nearly all her existence. What remained was so thin that even sustaining a proper "Torch" was difficult; the last of it burned out in less than five days.
When she returned home, the daughter's presence was already so faint that ordinary people could barely perceive her. Her movements were like a walking corpse. A few days later, the daughter of this home disappeared—vanished as though she had never existed in this world at all.
The apology never spoken, the cake never delivered, the wish for a blessing… all of it, remembered by no one.
After the daughter's existence was completely erased, the Crimson Denizen lurking in the city still wasn't satisfied. The husband also fell victim. By the time Nitocris arrived, destroyed the Denizen, and cleansed the city, only the woman remained.
Nitocris's Authority could revive those who had become Torches—but she could not recall those whose existence had been completely consumed and erased from all records. That wasn't death. It was something far more absolute, far more brutal—nothingness.
Their traces had been uprooted from the world's past, present, and future. As though they had never been born, never laughed, never loved.
Such complete erasure was no different from Doctor Roman returning the Ten Rings in the Grand Time Temple—sacrificing himself and being erased from all records.
Back then, she had been powerless. She could only watch as the doctor walked toward his destined end with a relieved smile. Even now, she was still powerless, unable to do anything for those already gone.
A tragedy like this was just one fragment among countless others, happening in every corner of the world.
Flame Hazes never expected to change all this, because they were too weak. Before a tide strong enough to overturn the world, the power of an individual was insignificant. Those Flame Hazes who wished to become champions of justice almost all died because of their naivety, and most of those who remained were twisted avengers. Expecting them to change all these tragedies was impossible.
The only ones who had the power to change everything were gods.
But unlike the Crimson Realm, which possessed the Trinity, the human world had no gods.
Among the three Crimson Gods, the God of Guidance, Shahar, didn't intervene; the God of Retribution, Alastor, cared only for balance and order; and the Creator God, the Snake of the Festival, stood firmly on the side of the invaders.
The God of Retribution stood too high to see the tragedies unfolding below. The Creator God had the power to change, but his Authority was exercised only to satisfy the desires of the Crimson Realm's denizens.
Thus—it fell to Nitocris.
Because aside from her, no one would heed those cries for help. Because aside from her, no one would stand up for justice on their behalf.
Nitocris's belief was so extreme that even Alastor couldn't help being shocked by her madness.
"To think you intend to usurp another god's Authority… what a wild notion… Have you not considered the cost of failure?"
"I naturally have full confidence. Believe me, Alastor, God of Retribution—there is precedent for humans usurping divine Authority and gathering multiple Authorities into one."
What worried Nitocris more was whether Alastor would try to stop her—whether he would, after hearing her intentions, stand on the opposite side. After all, Alastor was still a Crimson God.
Luckily, Alastor did not choose that troubling path in the end. Nitocris secretly let out a breath of relief. If she truly severed ties with the Crimson Realm's God of Retribution, the one who would suffer the most, who would be placed in unbearable pain, would undoubtedly be Shana—caught between them.
Of course, Shana wasn't happy either, because Nitocris really was about to do something extremely dangerous.
Fight another god. Was there anything more dangerous in this world?
And she couldn't help, not even stand at the edge of the battlefield to cheer for Nitocris—because Nitocris would descend in her true form into the interstice between worlds.
Shana had indeed become stronger. Not long ago she had grasped her own Unrestricted Spell and fighting style, making her one of the top combatants among Flame Hazes. If Sydonay didn't use Shintetsu Nyoi, he wouldn't be a match for her. Yet even so, she had no qualifications to interfere in a battle between gods.
"There is something I need your help with, Shana."
Very solemnly, Nitocris said to her, "My opponent is, after all, the Crimson Realm's Creator God. I'll have to devote all of my mind to the battle in the interstice. Before it ends, I won't be able to send my awareness down to the human world. I need you to protect my contractor while I'm gone."
Even though the organization with the greatest number of Crimson Denizens—Bal Masqué—was already on the verge of collapse, and even though almost no one knew Hirai Yukari was the contractor of the Pillar of the Present World, Nitocris still preferred to be cautious, just in case.
"I don't know what aftershocks will follow once I destroy Bal Masqué. Green may be my contractor, but I haven't granted her power enough to confront Crimson Lords. I hope you all can take care of her while I'm not here—only then will I have no regrets."
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A/N: You people are unbelievable… After 'the author is a bottom,' now even labels like 'the bottom of bottoms' start popping up.
Is it really that hard to acknowledge that I'm not a bottom but a top?
T/N: authot is getting cooked