Ivory Tower: Grand Assembly (1)
Floor 400 of the Ivory Tower.
Even now, while the living world was embroiled in war with the demon race, the natural landscape on the 400th floor remained tranquil.
In an artificially created stretch of nature, people planted seeds and prepared hopeful tomorrows.
'I have been defeated.'
In a red‑roofed house on the outskirts of a village, Shirone sat lost in meditation.
'I lost.'
When the plan to assassinate Habitz through failed, the world lurched toward catastrophe.
The death toll from the demons was already racing toward a million, and Shirone felt responsible.
'Why did I lose?'
Thoughts looped and twisted until they reached the same conclusion: he was weak.
The holy light of Yahweh wrapped his face, but it was not a beautiful, perfect sphere.
'I must endure.'
The spirit of universal love that loves all things equally.
'I must accept everything.'
He understood it intellectually, but quieting the rage within was beyond human strength now.
When the heart tips to one side, the spirit contorts and the state shatters.
'The heart must move.'
If he could go beyond calculation and become universal love itself, Shirone would finally gain perfect freedom.
"Ugh!"
It felt impossible.
'I must forgive. I must embrace it.'
Like Shirone's falling tears, droplets of Yahweh's light fell, glowing like embers as they dripped down.
"Exterminate the humans!"
By absorbing the armies of hell, Habitz had made the Gustav Empire incontestably the world's strongest military power.
Smodo reorganized the army into a billion‑strong force shaped to the demons' nature.
And under Balkan's plan, fifty million troops were now marching toward the imperial palace of Kashan.
"Isn't this too easy? It's boring, really."
It was the scale of an entire nation being moved, and no human army could stop them.
On a massive cart drawn by the world's monsters, the Maranka, Habitz and Gustav's four corps had gathered.
"Uorin."
An emperor need not be on the battlefield, but when the occupied state was Kashan, things were different.
"I'm curious to see what expression they'll wear when the palace falls."
From a carriage open on all sides, Habitz watched the hellish army filling sky and earth.
It was a procession only possible because they were not human.
"O Satan!"
A demon with a red tail and wings approached, trident leading, its flight squadron moving backward.
It was a herald who had learned human speech.
"We have occupied Kashan's commercial city, Benaford."
Benaford was a wealthy city forty kilometers from here.
Balkan issued orders on Habitz's behalf.
"We'll stay there tonight. You will not rest—keep advancing."
As the herald took his orders and left, Balkan glanced back at Habitz and said, "That means we've taken a third of Kashan's territory. It's about time to make some decisions."
If they occupied half of Kashan, the path to invading the central continent would open.
"Zaib, Molton, Borna—those three countries bordering Kashan will be the gateways. Once they fall, we can sweep through the Central Twenty‑One Kingdoms and even the southern continent without hindrance," Smodo said.
"I'm going to Uorin," Habitz replied.
Balkan sighed at Habitz's lack of interest in strategy, tactics, or war. "Then split the forces. Ten million will press Kashan from Benaford; the rest will head south."
Natasya turned, puzzled. "Forty million to the central continent?"
"There's been no movement from the Order yet. They'll likely make their final stand at the central continent's border. Ten million is enough to take Kashan."
No one argued, and that night Habitz's forces reached Benaford.
The city that had once ranked among Kashan's three richest lay devastated.
Habitz set up camp amid the rubble and summoned the city's rulers.
Twenty high nobles, including the mayor, were dragged out in a line, bound with ropes.
Knowing Habitz's nature, their faces were drained and fear filled their eyes.
'We're going to die anyway. That's not the scary part.'
They couldn't even imagine how this madman would torment them.
"I'll spare half of you."
Habitz said it flatly. They raised their heads as if they couldn't believe it.
"Half? Half?"
One out of two.
A probability that could mean death, but also the hope that they might not be chosen.
"But I will torture the other half." The nobles' shoulders trembled; it wasn't interrogation to find information they feared.
"Whoever wants to live, raise your hand." At first, no one raised theirs.
Pride at begging for life, buying time to analyze the situation.
'We're dead either way. Gambling is the right move.'
Three quick thinkers raised their hands at once, and the others turned as if snapped.
Their eyes mixed bewilderment, fury, and a vague expectation of death.
"Untie them."
At Habitz's order, soldiers untied the three and helped them to their feet.
"Leave. You are free."
The remaining seventeen went ashen.
"I said I'd spare half."
Now seven could live. Those who saw hope raised their hands in a scramble.
"Please spare me! I have children!"
"I must live! I will do anything for Lord Habitz!"
After listening to their cries for a moment, Habitz held out his hand to Zettaro.
He received two dice and tossed them to the man kneeling at the far left.
"From now on, pair up and roll dice. Higher number wins freedom."
A noble stared at the dice at his knees, then slowly looked up.
"Roll."
Startled by Habitz's terse command, he took the dice with trembling hands and rolled.
"Ugh!"
The two six‑sided dice showed 3 and 4—totaling 7.
"Next. The man beside you."
Unable even to meet his opponent's eyes, the man beside him grabbed the dice.
The trembling dice rolled across the floor like an eternity.
"Ah… ah…"
They landed 6 and 2—totaling 8.
"Ahhhhh!"
The man with an 8 shouted, while the man with 7 went pale and faint.
"This is absurd."
A simple dice game—fate could not be decided by a single point.
"Please, just once more!"
"Take him away. Torture him until he dies." Dragged out by soldiers, he couldn't accept his life ending like this.
"Please! Just one more chance!" Balkan smiled bitterly.
'This is the truth of the world. Outside the dice, there's nothing you can do.'
Human free will was only so much.
'But some humans break the Law's chain and impose their own will.'
Those here were not that kind.
"Next. Roll."
The dice went from man to man, cries of triumph and screams of despair erupting in turn.
"One person remaining?"
Because three had gone free, one man had no partner to contest.
"Ah, please… have mercy…"
Habitz regarded the frightened noble who feared he wouldn't even get this half‑chance and stood.
"I'll do it with you."
"What? M‑My lord emperor—"
Habitz sat in front of the noble, spread a seat, and handed him the dice.
"What does any of that matter? I actually wanted to try this. If you beat me, you become emperor. And I… hmm."
Habitz glanced around, then said to Zettaro, "All right. Zettaro, you do as I say—kill me if need be."
"Your Majesty, such an offer—" Balkan began.
Before he finished, Zettaro grabbed his belly and laughed.
"Puhahaha! Understood! What a thrilling match. I shall be the judge."
Zettaro approached Habitz and raised his sword as if to cut his throat. The noble's pupils rolled back in terror.
'These lunatics. They're not sane.'
"Roll. This is the chance of a lifetime."
The camp's tension was taut enough to explode—this was the most entertaining game.
"Please. Please—just once…"
The noble convulsed and, eyes squeezed shut, threw the two dice.
The air froze for an instant. Slowly opening his eyes, the noble gaped in disbelief.
"Ah! Aah!"
The dice read 6 and 6—totaling 12.
'It's a miracle! Thank you, God!'
While Habitz's officers wore grave faces, Zettaro burst into laughter.
"Puhahaha! What will you do now? Surely you won't go back on your word, Emperor?"
Any ordinary emperor would have cut Zettaro down, but Habitz smiled instead.
'As expected, you're the best.'
This was peak entertainment.
"Now it's my turn."
Though he joked, Habitz truly risked his life and showed no hesitation as he rolled.
"Ei!"
All eyes followed the dice.
When 6 and 6—the number 12—came up, the stunned noble drooled.
"A tie. Roll again."
"Ugh…"
The noble, face like a weeping child, sobbed as he gripped the dice.
He couldn't stop crying.
"Wah—wahhh."
His nerves spasmed and the two dice slipped from his palms.
Again they came up 6 and 6—totaling 12.
"Waaaah! Waaaah! Waaaah!" Half‑crazy, the noble howled and wailed, tears and snot streaming.
Balkan's eyes finally grew sharp.
'There's no tampering with the dice. But twelve came up three times in a row. Even as an independent anomaly, this is…'
Habitz snatched up the dice.
"Not bad. Then—this time?"
He threw them into the air without hesitation.
"Wooooah!"
Soldiers, tense enough to choke, stared and shouted.
"Twelve! Another twelve!"
Impossible by ordinary probability; it was a situation no one encountered in everyday life.
"Please… spare me."
The noble begged, but Habitz was firm.
"Roll."
His body exhausted, he threw the dice, praying for a final miracle.
They came up 1 and 2—totaling 3.
"Then is it my turn now?" As Habitz swept the dice up, the noble trembled and his mouth flew open.
"Gueee!"
A pour of blood gushed from his mouth, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed forward.
Zettaro checked him. "His breath has stopped."
"A shame. I wanted to spare him." Habitz returned to his seat and tapped his leg, bored.
"I'm bored. Anything fun?"
By the next morning, twenty thousand of Benaford's surviving citizens had been horrifically murdered.
'Forgive. Love.'
Blood tears flowed from Shirone's eyes as he had been meditating for the thirtieth hour straight.
He could no longer suppress his anger.
'No. I mustn't waver.' The struggle between universal love and rage was a tightrope—one false step would shred his mind.
"Ughh…"
Blood flowed from his closed eyes, nose, and lips, soaking his clothes.
'Endure. Even swallow the anger.' Droplets of Yahweh's light began to fall like candle wax.