The simulated Ecaros could clearly see Theresa’s resolve.
She could choose a forceful refusal.
She could use her military might to forcibly stop Theresa from leaving.
But seeing the gentle smile at the corner of the girl’s lips, seeing those amber eyes filled with tender trust and other, unusual emotions…
This ever-arbitrary Grand Duchess found herself, for once, choked for words.
The refusal she had meant to voice could not leave her lips.
Just like years ago—from the far shore of her Originium Arts, she sensed the resolve within Theresa’s heart.
Ecaros knew that a person with such resolve could not be stopped, nor would they compromise.
Her past self had been the same.
Strangely, Theresa becoming more like her former self should have delighted Ecaros.
Yet now, she felt not the slightest trace of joy.
She only felt a heavy weight upon her heart.
She wanted to say something, but when she tried to speak, she knew not what to say.
And after a long silence, Ecaros looked at Theresa, who held her gaze unwaveringly.
At last, she made her decision…
[Branch 1—You will not permit this to happen.
This is your game.
Theresa is your slave.
Even if she is the Sarkaz King, you will not allow this change in status.
You will reject Theresa’s impertinent demand and forcibly keep her here.
But…
can you truly hold back a Sarkaz King?] [Branch 2—The Sarkaz King.
The last Manchester…
It seems fate has secretly bestowed something upon you both.
You can see Theresa’s resolve.
You know you cannot keep this version of her here.
After these years together, truthfully, does the game even still matter?…
Perhaps it still does.
But perhaps agreeing to Theresa’s request is also a choice.
The girl who has stepped onto the road ordained by fate might, in the end, show you the very thing you wished to see.] … Ecaros looked at the branching options before her, carefully reading through every description.
Truth be told, even now, Ecaros hadn’t forgotten that the ultimate purpose of her simulator was to raise a villainess heroine.
But after experiencing such a long simulation, Ecaros only felt that her sim-self was the one who seemed like the villainess—and even then, only a surface-level villainess.
In truth, she was more of a Neutral Evil alignment.
As for raising Theresa into a villainess…
so far, there had been virtually no progress.
Only perhaps at the very beginning, when her sim-self had violently beaten Theresa, might there have been a faint inclination toward corruption.
But right after, she had personally erased even that.
Whenever she thought of this, Ecaros got a headache.
Several of the branching options clearly could have pushed the simulation onto a traditional villainess-raising route.
Yet every single time, she had chosen otherwise.
She’d even turned the ‘game’—which should have speed-trained Theresa into a loyal hound—into a straight-up raising sim.
As expected…
was it because she was just too Sankta?
Oh well.
She’d already come this far in the simulation, already been a good person for this long.
Might as well play the good person one last time.
Let Theresa go.
Who knew—maybe there’d be a surprise waiting?
So Ecaros thought.
Though somewhat vexed by her earlier choices, she didn’t regret them.
Given another chance, she would probably walk the same road.
After all, even inside a simulation, she wasn’t the type to force misfortune onto others.
Just let things take their natural course.
Thinking this, Ecaros reached out to select Branch 2.
But…
suddenly, Ecaros felt her vision blur.
The Branch 2 option seemed to momentarily shift, as if overlapping with Branch 1.
And just as Ecaros’ vision rapidly returned to normal, she abruptly realized—the hand that should have chosen Branch 2 had, in the end, landed on Branch 1.
What was going on?
Why would I choose the first one?
Stunned, Ecaros stared at the selected Branch 1, feeling that something was off.
But once a choice was made in the simulation, it could not be undone.
So even though Ecaros couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened, the simulation had already begun advancing.
Left with no alternative, Ecaros could only temporarily set aside the question of why she had misselected and throw herself back into the first-person simulation.
… “I will not permit you to leave, Theresa.” “…Whether you are the Sarkaz King or an ordinary Sarkaz—before this game has ended completely, I will not allow you to leave.
You should have understood this long ago.” Rising from her chair, Ecaros’ icy eyes held no trace of emotion.
She stared coldly at Theresa.
They were merely words devoid of feeling, yet they brought a suffocating pressure upon the two standing opposite her.
“If I were you, I would choose to secretly flee back to Kazdel to become that so-called Sarkaz King.
Perhaps then you might take the first step, Theresa.” Her cane silently gathered the Originium Arts belonging to this Grand Duchess.
She had made ‘her’ choice.
“Haah…
I knew it would be like this.” Feeling the pressure surging like a tide, Theresa sighed.
Though she had known Ecaros was almost certain to refuse her request—whether out of reason or emotion— Theresa had still wanted to try.
After all, she didn’t want to deceive Ecaros.
It was only a pity that her attempt had failed.
Thus, a sword of pitch-black crimson materialized in the young Sarkaz King’s hand, accompanied by the low-humming, trembling space around it.
An even more terrifying aura, wreathed in black-red energy, billowed up around Theresa instantly overwhelmed the pressure Ecaros had brought.
Sensing the oppressive, overbearing force of this power, Ecaros could not help but furrow her brows.
Though she was strong, she now realized that she very likely could not defeat the current Theresa.
Although the influence of her Originium Arts over Theresa remained, that was a last resort.
Besides, the link established by her Arts could easily be countered and destroyed.
Thus, unless absolutely necessary, Ecaros did not want to play that trump card.
But the question of how to defeat Theresa became a problem—not to mention that standing beside Theresa was Theresis as well…
“So what now, Ecaros?
Will you agree to my terms?” Seeing that Ecaros was contemplating a way to defeat her, Theresa had no desire to truly strike at the person before her.
So if possible, she hoped Ecaros would recognize the odds and back down.
“Hmph.
You ask knowing full well the answer.” Though she could not immediately find an effective solution, Ecaros could not compromise.
On matters she deemed important, she had never known the meaning of the word.
Even if it meant facing an enemy she was destined to be unable to defeat.
Since that explosion in her childhood, Ecaros had no longer permitted herself to make any compromises on the things she cared about.
Even if it meant she would have to face the legendary ‘Sarkaz King.’ “…I thought as much.” “Then, pray forgive my discourtesy, Grand Duchess of Manchester.” Theresa saw Ecaros’ persistence.
She was not surprised—only somewhat resigned.
In truth, if only Ecaros had been willing to soften her attitude even a little, and speak a few words expressing that she wished her not to leave…
Then Theresa might well have delayed her return to Kazdel by a few more years.
After all, the previous Sarkaz King had only just died; though Kazdel was in chaos, it had not yet ground to a complete halt.
But unfortunately, that was impossible.
And she herself also had reasons she could not delay.
Aside from resorting to force, there was no longer any room for negotiation between them.
However, just before the two began to clash once more in this office, Theresa, sword in hand, suddenly spoke to Ecaros: “Still…
this doesn’t count as an assassination.
After all, I already failed this month…
right?” As she spoke, a playful smile curved upon Theresa’s beautiful face.
Ecaros neither denied nor affirmed it.
She simply, the moment Theresa finished speaking, thrust the gleaming tip of her cane directly at Theresa’s face.
There was no hesitation in her movements—solely the pure intent to defeat Theresa.
And watching the cane sweeping in from the upper left, Theresa sighed softly.
Then, in the next instant, the power of the Sarkaz King filled her entire body.
Ecaros’ originally swift-as-light movements now appeared slowed in the girl’s eyes.
Theresa lightly swung the longsword in her hand to the right.
Clang— SLAM!!!!!
The fierce clash sent sparks flying, illuminating Ecaros’ gallant face, and also illuminating the faint surprise that could not be concealed in those pale golden eyes of the Grand Duchess.
She had guessed Theresa had grown stronger, but she hadn’t anticipated she would be this strong.
Theresa, too, sensed Ecaros’ emotions at this moment.
She couldn’t help but smile slightly.
Then, she slashed her sword toward her left—splattering fresh crimson blood upon the blade and the floor.
And Theresa did not stop.
In an instant, she reversed her grip on the longsword, her form like a specter, like a dancing butterfly, thrusting the blade into the bookshelf that had been completely empty moments before.
Then, with a horizontal sweep, the blade and the book-laden shelf instantly formed the posture of a beheading guillotine.
The office, at this moment, returned to silence.
“Checkmate.” “You’ve lost, Grand Duchess.” Having done all this, Theresa revealed a smile.
And there, before the previously empty bookshelf—within that ‘beheading guillotine’ formed by the pitch-black, blood-red longsword—fine threads of fresh blood dripped from the blade, nourishing its body.
And there too appeared Ecaros’ figure, her expression cold.
Upon her fair, alluring neck, a crimson line silently seeped blood, the scarlet and the snow-white overlapping and interweaving, lending the current Ecaros an uncanny, bewitching beauty.
Without a doubt, with the ‘guillotine blade’ pressed against her neck, Ecaros had lost.
If Theresa so wished, in this very instant she could cleanly behead Ecaros.
And thus become the victor of this game.
But Theresa did not do so.
Or rather, she had long since ceased to intend to do so.
Yet in any case, on this night, Ecaros had lost.
Her Originium Arts had been completely seen through by Theresa, and she had been utterly defeated by her.
She no longer held the initiative.
She could no longer stop the Sarkaz King’s departure.