It started raining.
As if the sky had tuned its mood to a gloomy blue-grey, gently pouring it upon the earth.
The daylight was neither bright nor truly dark, but a uniform, shadowless gray, like a faded filter placed over the world. The green of leaves dulled; walls of buildings turned a cold, pale white; even traffic lights blurred into fuzzy edges behind veils of mist.
Every sound seemed sharpened by threads of rain and then softened again by dampness, lingering with cold, wet tails that stuck stubbornly within the ears.
This was a small city, not far from Misaki City. In the drizzling rain, the air held a faintly sweet tang—a mix of wet earth and the juice from crushed grass.
Nitocris didn't need to actively seek out Crimson Denizens; the world consciousness would gladly reveal their locations to her. After all, Crimson Denizens were parasites from another realm, a plague the world had long wished to rid itself of but lacked the means—until now. It had finally found someone who could solve its problem.
In this traveler from the sea of stars, Nitocris, the world consciousness sensed the blessings and protection of multiple worlds. It understood clearly that she differed fundamentally from those invaders from Guze. And after witnessing her effortlessly annihilate a somewhat powerful Crimson Lord, it eagerly volunteered to help Nitocris find other Denizens.
Thus, Nitocris, once again borrowing Hirai Yukari's body, had come to this small city—though she wasn't in a hurry to strike down the Crimson Denizen here.
Because someone else had already set their sights upon it first. When Nitocris arrived, the battle had already reached its climax.
Under the gloomy rain, everything seemed coated in a faded, pale gray, as if drained of color. Only the plaza was different, covered by a dark-red barrier. Within that barrier, time stood still—but Nitocris's gaze pierced through it easily, observing clearly the two flames raging like beasts inside.
"Kami-sama, there's someone fighting over there in the plaza," Hirai Yukari also noticed the activity and asked curiously. "One side must be the Crimson Denizen we're after, right? Then the other side… Could it be the legendary Flame Haze?"
She'd never seen a real Flame Haze yet—though, admittedly, she'd only encountered one Crimson Lord before, Friagne.
"It's not only Flame Hazes who fight Crimson Denizens; other Denizens sometimes clash with their own kind. After all, they're solitary creatures by nature… Moreover, battles between Flame Hazes themselves aren't uncommon, either."
"But why? Aren't Flame Hazes all comrades who fight together against the Denizens, protecting the peace of the world?"
Yukari asked, perplexed.
"The relationships and goals of Flame Hazes aren't as pure as you imagine. Crimson Denizens enter this world driven by their desires. Some Flame Hazes aren't very different. After losing everything dear to them at the hands of Denizens, they take on this role filled with hatred and fury. To such Flame Hazes, Crimson Denizens are prey, enemies, outlets for their rage. Thus, other Flame Hazes aren't necessarily comrades, but rivals."
"I see..."
Yukari still struggled to fully understand.
Though Yukari's own family had once died at the hands of a Crimson Denizen, truthfully, she felt anger rather than soul-deep hatred. After all, her parents were alive again now.
Frieren had shown no visible emotion during Himmel's funeral, only grasping what "death" truly meant as she watched the burial itself. Yukari was similar—slow to grasp emotional realities. She knew her parents "had died once already," yet hadn't truly comprehended death itself, or perhaps her subconscious refused to comprehend it. Thus, she didn't bear such deep hatred for the Denizen who killed her parents.
Her willingness to lend Nitocris her body to hunt Denizens stemmed not from hatred, but gratitude to Nitocris and a desire to protect and save others—a sense of purpose that satisfied her deeply.
Nitocris thought this was good. As an Avenger without true enmity, she deeply understood that flames of vengeance existed only for destruction, incapable of creating anything new. Once vengeance was fulfilled, the Avenger would destroy herself.
Nitocris had no wish for Yukari to walk such a self-destructive path at her young age.
"So, is the one fighting that Denizen another Denizen—or a Flame Haze?"
"A Flame Haze."
Nitocris fixed her gaze upon the crimson flames in the distance, gradually overwhelming the muddy yellow flames. Beneath the gloomy rain, those eyes shone fiercely, like the rising sun destined to burn away the darkness.
"Moreover, she's quite a special Flame Haze."
Burning [Power of Existence] as fuel created flames whose color symbolized a Denizen's identity.
Yet this particular color was special.
The blazing crimson flame emitted no exaggerated heat, yet it carried a terrifying presence, as if capable of burning all creation to ashes.
Swinging a long katana and wielding this flame was a flame-haired, burning-eyed girl. Her movements couldn't be called refined; they were simple, brutal, direct—fully embodying speed, precision, and ruthlessness, perfect for her.
The crimson flames flowed like a river. Her blade accelerated to the limit, flashing like lightning, and in an instant, severed one of her opponent's arms.
"Curse you! You damned Flame Haze—all of you deserve to die!!"
The Crimson Denizen, now missing an arm, roared madly, flinging countless earthen-yellow fireballs toward the flame-haired girl.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
They weren't sharp explosions like firecrackers, but muted, earth-filled thunder.
The earthen-yellow flames carried heaviness like the earth itself; each fireball crashing down sent waves of scorching heat. This relentless assault turned the plaza into a ruin in moments.
The flame-haired girl wove quickly through the fireballs. Explosive shockwaves and scorching air struck her cheeks like someone swinging a freshly-forged iron slab at her face, carrying wind, soil, and the sweet, burnt scent of instantly-dried grass.
Through her feet, she felt the earth tremble, as if a red dragon had burst through the soil—its scales were sparks, its whiskers flames, roaring ferociously from beneath the earth, overturning the ground itself.
Yet none of this shook the girl. Flames still burned fiercely within her eyes, undampened by her powerful foe; her thirst for victory remained insatiable.
Taking advantage of fire and explosions, the girl closed in on her enemy. Breathing and footsteps hidden by the chaos, she lowered her center of gravity, body skimming close to the ground—like flying—propelled by the shockwave from behind.
By now, her momentum peaked. Even though the Denizen finally saw her and hastily erected a firewall, nothing could stop the girl's decisive strike.
"Haah—!!"
A bright blade tore through the earthen-yellow flames. A flash of cold brilliance appeared briefly—like ice flakes instantly consumed by trailing red flames.
"Guaaaaaaah—!!"
The scream pierced the sky.
A fiery, straight "burning gap" opened on the Crimson Denizen's chest, flames erupting wildly—her slash nearly cut him in half.
"Flame-haired... Burning-eyed... Hunter...!"
The Denizen glared with pure hatred, intent to engulf her reflection completely.
"It's over."
Seeing her enemy at his limit, the flame-haired girl stepped forward to finish him—but suddenly, Alastor's voice urgently shouted from within her.
"Quickly retreat! Get away from him!"
"Die with me, Flame Haze!!"
The Denizen's body rapidly inflated, spewing massive earthen-yellow flames from his wounds, cracking everywhere like porcelain about to shatter.
And then he exploded with force like a small nuclear bomb, a miniature sun rising violently from the earth.
The girl retreated instantly upon Alastor's warning, yet in such short time she couldn't escape fully—caught helplessly in the blast.
Shockwaves hit her like solid walls, hurling her into the air. Her vision spun, body curled reflexively to protect herself.
After the blast, a huge, spiraling, still-burning crater remained.
Coughing, she struggled upright amidst smoldering ash, her body aching unbearably.
"This world... actually has such tenacious Denizens... exploding even in death... Cough!"
She wasn't praising him but complaining. Her voice came hoarse, body feeling shattered.
"If pushed too hard, enemies will desperately retaliate," Alastor warned. "Learn from this. Otherwise, it'll be too late."
"Understood... Alastor..."
The flame-haired girl was extremely angry. But as Alastor spoke, she restrained herself to listen attentively.
Suddenly Alastor shouted, "Stay alert! It's not over yet!"
"What?!" The girl's eyes widened sharply.
"Hahaha! I won't die so easily!"
Earthen-yellow flames erupted behind her. A severed arm had transformed back into the Crimson Denizen, lunging directly at her.
Paralyzed by pain, she couldn't move.
"Die, Flame-haired Burning-eyed Hunter!!"
Just as flames descended to consume her, a gentle voice echoed from behind the Denizen.
"Death?"
A hand slowly settled onto the Crimson Denizen's head.
In an instant, every trace of earthen-yellow flame vanished as if it had never existed.
"No one decides the life or death of others so casually—except for me."
The Crimson Denizen clearly felt the source of the voice behind him, yet he couldn't move an inch. Turning his head, twitching a finger, even breathing—none of these simple acts were possible.
Because his body was already dead.
Next would come the death of his mind, consciousness, and soul.
"I say unto you… perish (pass on to the Underworld)."
As those words fell, the reality of death was already decided.
The Crimson Denizen's body crumbled like a weathered stone, eroded by winds spanning ten thousand years within a single instant, disintegrating into fine grains of sand carried away by the breeze. All that remained was a lone earthen-yellow flame, gently drifting into Nitocris's hand.
"Seeing how badly injured you were, I took it upon myself to intervene and snatched your prey. I hope you don't mind."
"He was no ordinary 'Denizen,' but a Crimson Lord. Had he truly detonated all his [Power of Existence], the blast wouldn't have been this weak… You should've realized this the moment you survived that initial explosion, noticing that he still had something in reserve."
Nitocris spoke these words gently, clearly addressing the flame-haired girl.
Seeing that adorable face identical to the one etched in her memories, the sternness in Nitocris's eyes slowly melted away, like snow meeting the first rays of sunlight.
"But setting all that aside, your performance in this battle was truly impressive. I can clearly see all the effort you've made to reach this far… Truly, you've done splendidly."
Before the flame-haired girl could fully react, Nitocris's palm was already softly resting on top of her head—like a snowflake silently landing upon glowing embers, gently brushing through her hair, taming even the tongues of flame to docile stillness.
"You really worked so very hard… Good job."
Those softly spoken words didn't fade into silence, but instead gathered like a feather, gently brushing her ear as it drifted down into her chest, landing lightly upon the calmest surface of her heart. Without any wind, yet with the softest of ripples, a silvery ring quietly expanded—gentle as moonlight breathing, calming even her heartbeat by half a beat.
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