It was the day before, or two days after the attack on Rusalka by someone believed to be Ars.
　The time was a little before the day. Within Alpha, even among the wealthy, there were only a limited number of people who resided in this place that was relatively close to the Tower of Babel.
　The surrounding area is densely wooded, and the wind that comes through at this time of year is chilly in the lightest of hands. Still, it's warm in a survival zone protected by the protective walls of Babel. You probably wouldn't see any animals in the outside world.

　But even the creepy trees don't lose all their leaves. Even if they do fall off, they soon bear fruit. Many of the plants were out of season, deviating from such a natural world.
　A paved road laid out to part the trees. Beyond that is a sturdy gate, a mansion built in such a place.
　The sprawling garden is guarded by a twenty-four-hour security force. I'm sure you'll be able to find a lot more information on this. If they entered without invitation, they could be surrounded and seized at once.

　On the second floor of the central front, in a strictly quaint study, the man looked for a bodily fault in a report from a girl and sent her downstairs, as usual, to the basement.
　The man has a lowly taste. A day's companion, generally equivalent to a drink to get out of the day's depression or as a reward, such tastes are also a habit.
　The man's steps out of the study were somewhat buoyant.

　No one but he and the girl were allowed to enter here. Down the stone stairs, the dimly lit, soundproofed, stone-built room had become much more of a man's color over the past few years.
　Various implements as far as I could see. Every one of them caked a reddish-black stain as a sign of its use.

　She did it herself, the handcuffs in her hands and the chains threaded between them lifted and lifted her body. When her toes stop just short of touching the floor, the girl says an emotionless line to the man that she is ready.

'Sir, we are ready.'
Yeah, I've had a long day.
"Yes, sir, as you wish....

　The man who was called his lordship - Morweld walked up first with a full and ecstatic look on his face.
　He half-rolls the girl, making her turn her back and rips the clothes off her collar in one swift motion.

　The exposed milky-white skin has a fresh youthfulness to it. But the girl doesn't feel that kind of shame, and Morweld doesn't seem to be particularly bothered by it.
　But immediately after rubbing his cheek against her back, Morweld smiled lecherously. What he saw were the fresh scars carved there. Each one told of the length of the months.
　He took pleasure in destroying beautiful things.

　He traced one of them with his finger.

'What were these scars?　That's pretty deep.
Sir, it's a steel whip.
"Oh, yeah, right, I'll use my steel flogging today.
As you wish.

　In a good mood, Morweld grabbed one of the several whips behind her unseen. A steel whip was one with an iron-reinforced exterior, but it was slightly defective for a whip. To put it simply, it was not very pliable.
　So Morweld grinned and grabbed another whip, remembering recent events.

'You're a lowlife, talking from above!
"--

　The whip, which was swung as she turned around, struck the girl's back as it buzzed. Instantly, the body bounces with a bikinis.

''Bellick you ... hmph, well, that's fine. You'll soon realize you've done something stupid.

　Carving new scars on his scarred back, Morweld grins and smiles sadistically at the girl's back.

'Sorry, I'm sorry, I'll get in a rut if it's the same every time, surprise, how does it taste?'
"Ha, I feel your love so strongly.
Yeah, right. That's a good boy. This is called an articulated steel whip. I've seen a wizard using an AWR similar to this one, and I wanted one too, so I added a few things to my list of orders. I had the gap between the whip and the skin when I pull it like this.
It's a wonderful idea.
I know, but these clothes are really getting in the way.
I'm sorry.
Don't worry about it, it's all part of the fun.

　With that, the whip swung sideways and wrapped around the girl's slender waist. Before everything was wrapped up, Morweld pulled it back with great vigor.
　The clothes are completely stripped off, and blood flows out at regular intervals like scales on the girl's body.

'This should be enough to relieve your stress on the eagle. All's well, so how did things go for you?'
Ha, we're ready to go, sir.
That's good to hear. I'll give you a treat. Here you go.

　The whip struck the girl's back a few times, and fresh blood splattered and dripped, pooling around the girl's waist.

'Thank you.'

　Morwëld ecstatically listened to the gratitude that was announced so matter-of-factly. Moving closer, Morwëld rubbed his cheek against the wound, not willing to let the blood get to him.

'You're a good boy. I'm so glad I took you in.'
'Thank you. It is thanks to you that I have become a doll. Everything, down to this piece of meat, belongs to you.
Mmm, the best girl in the world. I used to cry even more when I first arrived, but now I'm having a lot of fun.
"If it is your pleasure, sir, I'll tell you...

　The girl turned her empty gaze to the cold stone wall directly in front of her and made the suggestion the other party wanted.
　But before the words could be spoken, an intense pain shot through her back. The girl is able to suppress the sensation of pain to the extreme. Still, it's not completely painless. Of course, no matter what kind of pain it was, she had gotten used to it enough not to change her expression.
　So at this time there is only the usual heat and shock in my back. As a person who has been kept alive, I don't have a single complaint to make.
　The girl believed that this was the best way to get along over a long period of time.

"Hmm, did you think that would make me happy?
'I'm sorry--!　Sir?
What, oh, I'm sorry. You want more.
No, I would have liked to spend more time with you, sir, but I was interrupted.
"Mm!　Who's that?
I don't know, but I'm afraid you're quite good at it.
Already got the scent.

　As a magician, she was Morweld's best asset, and if she said so, there was no doubt about it. And I had an idea.

'I have an idea.
Do you want me to kill him?
Sure, let's just get this over with and move on.

　Morweld let the chains fall down with a regretful smile.
　The man who is smarter than everyone else and thinks he is special is eager to bring others to their knees. Everything is decided by his own spoonful. That is, not even a human life can be of equal value to Morweld.
　To relieve such daily depression, or to satisfy your self-esteem, you unilaterally hurt someone who can't do anything about it.

　You have the right, the power and the authority to do so.

'I don't want it anyway. I don't need the healing magic.
Ha.

　The girl, who had removed the cuffs herself, made no attempt to hide her exposed bosom, but instead put on the thin cloth offered by Morwelld and threw a robe over it.


　♢ ♢ ♢


Bravo unit is clear.
C-Class is clear. There's no sign of our movement.
All right, maintain this distance. Those guys over there can't be any more sensitive than this.

　Over the communication device 《Consensor》, Viziest gave instructions to all the troops. Hiding in the dark night is the first step for an intelligence unit.
　According to the information I had obtained beforehand, the abilities of the mages guarding the mansion may be demonstrated in battle, but they shouldn't be noticed that they are spying on you.

　Viziest's troops are truly a group of intelligence experts. They are more sophisticated for espionage than their actual combat abilities.
　Still, this time it's different. The existence of Morweld's private army [Crewelsaith], an uncertain element, was a concern.

　The troops would undoubtedly feel that this distance was prudent for Vizaists. Normally, they should have been another twenty meters closer.
　That included the designation of a waiting area that would be difficult for each member to detect this time.

　This one hundred meters plus twenty meters is the distance played by Viziest's anxiety. The agents must not be found or noticed. But it was not a matter of watching from a distance.
　That's exactly what we have to try to do, to get as close as we can. We must gather whatever information we can obtain, no matter how trivial, in situations where intelligence is required.
　That is why they try to get close, even if it is only a few centimeters away. You have to minimize the risk and get as close as you can from experience.

　That's what the Viziest is doing this time, apart from each person's decision, all of which is directed by the Viziest. That's how careful he was.

　It blends in well with the darkness and looks down on the mansion from the top of the trees. It's a very good idea to have a good idea of what you're looking for. Searching for enemies by magic is a last resort. Depending on the magician, the possibility of being noticed is quite conceivable.

(Beric suggested the possibility of Morweld using a single mage, but how much of it is [Cruelsaith]? I'd like to know just the constituent members.)

　It was always necessary to hide his true face during espionage. Normally, he just flew his command in the rear, but this time, Vizayst was also very thorough. He inserted his index finger into his mouth and covered up to his nose with his mask.

　It happened just as the moonlight was blocked by a primary cloud created to hide Vizaisto's shadow.
　Vizaisto, who has been on the verge of death in the outside world on many occasions, felt a sensation similar to that that made his back militate. A sensation of unintentional muscle stiffness, an ingrained sensation like an animal's sense of danger, hit him.

　Whenever he thinks that, Vizayst always trusts his instincts. No, experience would have made him do so. It was moving almost simultaneously with his consciousness.
　I'm sure you'll be able to find a great deal more information on this topic.

　I'm sure you'll be able to find the best way to get the most out of your new collection.
　The place you were just now - the place you were using as a cover - had been cut off from right beside you, as if it had been quietly cut out of the landscape.
　A twig with leaves falling in pieces.

　Viziest follows his instincts and realizes that he was right. The flowing blood that crawled through his fingers around his neck took over.

(If I hadn't jumped backwards, my head would have been flying.)

　The wound was shallow, but more than that, it was hard for Viziest, who specializes in intelligence, to believe that he had allowed them to get so close.
　Vizaisto changed his mind as he looked sharply at the enemy he had wielded with the twigs.

'It's Cruelsaith, isn't it?'

　The robe leaves the front open, the hood covering the face.
　However, the light clothing worn inside the robe revealed female features. More than anything else, the area around her abdomen was dyed bright red.
　As far as Viziest could see, it was unlikely that he would fall behind the wizard who was guarding the mansion. And if so, the remaining unidentified element inside the mansion, [Crewel Scythe], is the most likely to be the one.

　The moonlit night had cleared and moonlight fell between them.
　Gray hair peeking out from the gap in the hood, the information obtained is memorized in my brain. A scythe, disproportionate to his slender body, was drawing a semi-circle on his neck.

　Its visible or not, a little blood is adhered to the cutting edge as a sign of having cut Vizayst.

'What do you do with that?　You and all of your people won't make it out alive.

　It was clearly a juvenile voice sound, though it contained a lewd inflection.
　If they knew the location of the Viziest and even realized the existence of his companions, it was already a failure as intelligence. There were only a limited number of means left.

　That's right, I'll do my best to keep my identity from being discovered.

(Well, is this guy in a class of his own? How many others are there?)

　In a moment's mind, I would consider killing the person in front of me. That meant continuing the mission. If there is still no report from the squad members at all, it could be considered the sole discretion of the opponent.
　Without having to think about it, Viziest draws an answer from his numerous experiences.

　Without averting his gaze from the other party, he put one hand to his ear and tapped it three times with his fingernails.
　Naturally, there was no reply. Several means of communication have been established for emergency situations. That was tapping with a claw. Twice it was a retreat, and three times it was an attempt to leave whatever it was. This meant being noticed. Four times it would leave no evidence and harm itself. This falls into the category of cases where you can't escape for sure and is left to your own judgment.
　But this was only the second time this method of communication had been used.

　An emergency situation of that magnitude.
　The troops should have escaped under the cover of darkness.

''Finished?　I hope I can escape.

　Did he see what the signal was, or did he simply hang the scythe with limited means? Maybe it could be either.
　Words that she didn't think of in the slightest twist her mouth. Damp eyes visible through the shade of the hood.
　She lifted the scythe and brought the cut end of it up to her mouth to sticky lick off the blood that was attached to it.