There existed a magic item known as the Sage's Crown.
It was an ultra-rare—at least by local standards—item stolen by Clementine when she defected from the Slane Theocracy.
The Sage's Crown was an artifact that sealed the wearer's ego, forcibly turning them into a living conduit capable of unleashing ultra–high-tier magic.
However, it was extremely troublesome to put on and remove.
If the wearer ever removed it, they would immediately go insane, their sense of self collapsing entirely.
An utterly terrifying effect.
Within the Theocracy, it was revered as a sacred treasure—
but that did not mean anyone could use it.
Only those compatible—what the Theocracy called Miko, shrine maidens—could wield it.
Anyone else wearing it would neither activate its effect nor suffer its drawbacks.
"…Hmph…"
And now that Sage's Crown rested on the head of the woman standing frozen before Khajiit.
She was thin, frail, and hollow-eyed.
Her condition surpassed even Clementine's in terms of sickly, unhealthy impression.
She wore the Sage's Crown, yes—
but she was no Miko.
She was a pitiful prostitute who had been abused endlessly by men in Cocytus's brothel, her heart shattered, pumped full of black powder, and worked nearly to death.
Today could be called a blessed day for her.
At last she would be freed from pain—
at last she would be allowed to die.
"Begin."
From behind Khajiit, Zero—arms folded—gave the quiet order.
Khajiit exchanged a glance with his disciples, then began the ritual to cast the massive spell.
The sacrifice would be the prostitute wearing the Sage's Crown.
The assertion that "Only Miko can use the Sage's Crown" was… not entirely accurate.
Anyone could technically use it—
but those not compatible would instinctively reject it deep within the mind, unable to withstand the mental strain.
If one could force themselves to accept it,
then the Crown could function.
But anyone who wasn't a Miko would go insane immediately, long before any effects manifested.
Thus, for all practical purposes, it was unusable by anyone but a Miko.
A Miko could wield it fully—
but would go mad upon removing it.
Others could theoretically "use" it—
but the crushing strain would break them instantly.
"…The ritual… succeeded?"
Zero grinned sharply.
Through Khajiit, his subordinates, and the woman crowned with the Sage's Crown,
a **7th-tier spell—Undead Army—**manifested.
In the center of the royal capital, grotesque undead began spawning one after another.
The woman trembled, drooled, and made noises like her skull was being crushed in a vice,
yet she continued to disgorge the effect of Undead Army.
"Well worth the experiment."
"I say this despite myself… but Zero, you come up with some vile ideas."
"Kukuku.
If the Sage's Crown inflicts enough mental strain to kill the user,
then you simply need someone whose mind is already broken.
Of course it won't be perfect—
but if they can control it even slightly,
it's more than enough."
"…'Control,' huh. Doubtful."
As Khajiit had predicted,
the woman finally succumbed to the mental load and perished.
The casting of Undead Army ceased,
producing barely half the intended number of undead.
"…This is fine."
But Zero's grin did not fade.
These undead weren't meant to slaughter the capital.
They were bait—tools to lure targets and sow chaos.
If the capital fell into confusion, Zero's objective would be met.
In fact, producing even this many undead was a pleasant surprise.
Finding another woman whose heart had been shaved down to this extent would be nearly impossible, even for experts in breaking minds.
In that sense, she had been a near-perfect "candidate" for the Crown.
Even an incomplete Undead Army served its role.
"Go, undead.
Drown this capital in terror!"
Arms spread, Zero laughed triumphantly.
In his eyes, the future—him placing the royal capital in his grasp—was already assured.
"You there, kid—
Wha…?"
A shock ran through Gagaran's body.
It was the day of the Eight Fingers Eradication Operation.
Deep within the castle, the assembled heroes and troops waited for their deployment orders.
Naturally, Blue Rose was present.
So were Gazef's Kingdom Warrior Troops and Marquis Raeven's private soldiers.
Gagaran had just finished the final pre-battle briefing and stepped away from her group to check on Climb—the boy she always looked after.
Gagaran's affectionate nickname for Climb was "Virgin."
Not because she mocked him—
but because it helped soften the stiff, overly serious impression he gave.
It loosened him up.
And, well… Gagaran did like virgins.
That should also be noted.
So she called out cheerfully:
"Yo, Virg—"
"Gagaran-sama."
Climb turned.
His posture, his gaze, the air about him—
Gagaran froze for a moment, a bead of sweat pricking her temple.
Something was wrong.
Something was missing.
The rich scent of virginity Climb had always carried—
had vanished.
His expression was calm, composed—
not merely because of the coming battle.
It was the calm of a man who had shed something,
who carried a newfound gravity.
Not a boy—
but a young man.
Not a man—
but a male, in the primal sense.
This Climb was fundamentally different from the one she knew.
"Y-you… you're…"
Her voice trembled.
Gagaran had absolute confidence in her ability to sense virgins from non-virgins.
And right now, the fledgling boy before her…
had unmistakably crossed that threshold.
The disappearance of his virgin scent meant only one thing—
he had lost it.
It was an unthinkable, earth-shaking development.
With who?
Since when?
The rapid-fire questions hammered through Gagaran's skull.
(No way… did he finally cross the line with the Princess…?)
It was both the most plausible…
and the least plausible scenario.
Yes—
anyone could see Climb and Renner were mutually devoted.
And before a battle where they might die, a man and woman confessing and sharing a night was not unusual.
But—
A commoner soldier bedding a princess?
Absurd.
In Gagaran's eyes, they were a pure princess and a painfully earnest virgin boy.
It was almost impossible to imagine them doing anything improper.
(Which is it…?
Did he do it with the Princess…?
With another woman…?
Did someone push him into visiting a brothel…?)
So absolute was Gagaran's Virgin-Sense that she never even considered the possibility that he hadn't lost it.
"You… uh… your vibe's kinda different today…"
Her cautious probing only earned a puzzled look from Climb.
"Is it? I don't think I've changed at all…"
"A-ahh, well… your guts seem steadier, I guess?
More like a real warrior…"
Flustered questions—utterly unlike her usual self.
Climb suddenly nodded in realization.
"Ah. Actually… the other day, the Jet-Black Princess, Lady Mom—"
"EMERGENCY REPORT!!!
MASSIVE UNDEAD OUTBREAK IN THE CAPITAL!!!
ALL UNITS PROCEED TO YOUR ASSIGNED SECTORS IMMEDIATELY!!!
THIS IS A DIRECT ORDER FROM PRINCESS RENNER!!!
REPEATING—THE CAPITAL IS UNDER MASS UNDEAD ATTACK—!!"
Before Climb could finish,
a soldier burst in, shouting at full volume.
The gathered troops erupted in shock.
"What!? A massive undead outbreak—
Damn it, at a time like this—!"
Climb frowned, frustration rising—
but he suppressed it.
The timing was terrible, yes—
but as a soldier of the Kingdom, protecting civilians came first.
Even if the entire operation against Eight Fingers fell apart—
now was not the time to complain.
He turned back to Gagaran.
"Gagaran-sama, we'll speak later.
Good luck."
"Y-yea… you too, Vir—
Climb."
"Yes."
Climb dashed off toward his assigned division.
Gagaran stared at his retreating back, her thoughts a tangled mess.
The sudden undead crisis was shocking—
but Climb's earlier bombshell was far harder to process.
"Actually… the other day, the Jet-Black Princess, Lady Momon—"
This was explosive.
(Oh no, oh no, oh no.
This is bad.
Does the Princess know!?
How close did those two get!?
Wait—was it like… a boy going to war, so the woman helped him… relax before battle…!?)
Every line of thought hit a dead end.
Unable to contain the frustration, Gagaran clawed at her hair.
"Gagaran, what are you doing?
Returning to the wild?
You heard the report, didn't you?"
"…Ah. Tia.
Your smart-ass mouth actually helps calm me down a bit. Thanks."
"…You're acting strange."
"No, I'm fine.
Let's go.
We don't have time to waste."
Gagaran slapped her cheeks, regaining her warrior's expression.
She couldn't let something like this shake her.
Not an Adamantite adventurer.
(…Damn it.
When we get back, I'm grilling Climb for answers.)
Shaking off the confusion, she hefted her beloved warhammer over her shoulder.