Chapter 2: Beyond the Limit Line
[The Ten Days of Ruin]
Later historians would come to refer to this period by many names, but they all agreed on one thing: this was the turning point. This was the moment the scale tipped, when the Great Tomb of Nazarick brought an abrupt and violent end to the six-hundred-year history of the Slane Theocracy.
[The Eve of Destruction — 7:00 PM][Forward Command Post, Northern Elven Kingdom Border]
Valeria Ain Obinier, the Commander-in-Chief of the Theocracy's expeditionary force, felt his gaze shackled to the magical clock on his desk. The lines on his forehead were etched deep, as if carved by a clumsy chisel, holding the sweat of a man watching his world unravel.
Seven o'clock.
This was the "Limit Line."
The operation plan was absolute. If the Extra Seat of the Black Scripture, the girl known to the higher-ups as Zesshi Zetsumei, had not returned victorious with the Elf King's head by this hour, it meant the Guardian of Humanity had met with an... irregularity.
Maybe the clock is broken? Perhaps it is only six.
Valeria entertained this foolish, desperate thought for a fleeting second before his rational mind crushed it, leaving a bitter, self-deprecating smile on his lips. The clock was a relic of the Six Great Gods, a magical artifact that functioned independently of mechanical failure. Time marched on, cruel, absolute, and indifferent to human prayer.
What could have happened to her?
Defeat?
Impossible. The Cardinals and the High Command were unanimous: Zesshi Zetsumei was a God-kin, a being capable of slaughtering the Elf King single-handedly. That was the foundational logic of this entire war. That was why she was deployed alone. The wisdom of the higher-ups could not be flawed on such a fundamental level. To doubt her strength was to doubt the Theocracy itself.
Did the Elf King unleash some hidden trump card fueled by his home territory?
No. The probability of that girl being defeated was infinitesimally low. She was the strongest existence in the Theocracy. A monster among men.
Are they stuck in a stalemate? Or did the Elf King flee, forcing a pursuit?
There had been no magical signal flares. No tremors in the earth. No reports from the scouts surrounding the capital.
Zesshi lacked teleportation magic. The Elf King's teleportation was known to be short-range and limited. While they might have slipped through the encirclement on foot, the most logical conclusion was that they were still within the Royal Capital.
In short...
This is no longer a situation I can control.
Valeria stood up. His legs felt stiff, as if the blood in his veins had turned to slush. As the minute hand ticked past the limit, a chill that had nothing to do with the night air settled into his marrow. It was the primal fear of a man realizing the roof of his house had just been blown off in a storm.
Knock, knock.
A sharp rap on the door broke the heavy silence. Before Valeria could grant permission, the heavy canvas flap was thrown open.
"Commander! The 'Shadows' have arrived!" a young staff officer shouted, his voice cracking with a mixture of awe and terror.
"I understand. Show them in, no! I will go to them."
The protocol was clear. If the Extra Seat did not return, the Black Scripture would intervene. The safety of the Commander was secondary to the respect owed to humanity's guardians.
Stepping out of the command tent, Valeria was greeted by the last vestiges of twilight reflecting off the armor of six magnificent figures. They stood like statues of the gods, their presence alone enough to silence the bustling camp. The surrounding air seemed heavier, charged with a mana density that made the skin prickle.
The 3rd Seat, "Four Elements." The 5th Seat, "One Man Army." The 7th Seat, "Thousand Leagues Astrologer." The 8th Seat, "Myriad Barriers." The 12th Seat, "Heaven and Earth."
... And standing at the fore, the 1st Seat. The Captain of the Black Scripture.
Their expressions were tight.
"Forgive the lack of pleasantries, Commander," the Captain spoke first. His voice was a calm baritone, but a current of urgency lurked beneath it. "Just to confirm. The Extra Seat... Zesshi Zetsumei has not returned. Is this correct?"
"Correct." Valeria nodded grimly, swallowing the lump in his throat.
The Captain's expression darkened instantly. A ripple of unease passed through the other heroes standing behind him. They knew, better than anyone, what it meant for that monster to be delayed.
"... Understood. We will commence the Search and Rescue mission immediately."
"I see," Valeria said, looking at the young man who led humanity's strongest unit. "I did not expect you, the First Seat, to come personally. If something were to happen to you in a situation like this..."
"If my absence leads to the loss of Zesshi, that would be the greatest loss for the Theocracy. No... for all of humanity."
"I... understand."
"My apologies for barging in." The Captain bowed his head slightly.
He was young, handsome, and possessed strength that rivaled dragons, yet he remained humble and refined. Valeria had always secretly preferred this young man to the monstrous, chaotic nature of Zesshi.
If only I had a son like him, he often thought. A true hero, not a ticking time bomb.
"Please," Valeria said, his voice thick with emotion. "Take care of yourself."
"We shall. Valen."
The Captain signaled the mage beside him.
"[Teleportation]."
The 3rd Seat, Valen Witt Schubert, chanted the spell in a hoarse whisper. The fabric of reality warped around them, twisting light and sound. In the blink of an eye, the heroes vanished, presumably heading straight into the belly of the beast.
Valeria was left standing in the cooling night air, staring at the empty space where hope had just departed.
(May the Six Gods protect you…)