[Side Stig] Crimson Dawn
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The sound of footsteps echoed through the quiet, dimly lit corridor.
The one responsible for the sound, Stig Strem, a high-ranking member of the Cyclamen Sect, stopped walking and turned his body.
Before him stood a massive door, its unusual presence standing out in the faint light, blocking his path.
When Stig held up a card-like magical tool, the door slowly began to open.
The room inside was enveloped in a soft, diffuse light, bright enough to ensure clear visibility. In the center of the room, a large rectangular table stood, with eight chairs arranged in equal intervals. At the far end of the table, a chair that differed in decoration from the others sat, clearly reserved for the room's master.
Four people were already seated at their respective chairs.
The first to notice Stig’s arrival was Cyclamen Sect: Second Seat—an elderly man known as Thunder Emperor, Gunnar Stern.
"Well done on handling the Doctor, Rakshasa."
Gunnar praised him for killing Oswell in Dal Ane not long ago.
"You have good ears, Thunder Emperor."
"That one had outlived his usefulness and was nothing but an eyesore. I had heard you were moving, so I paid attention."
"I see. So that's what it was."
"Huh? The Doctor's disposal? I haven't heard anything about that at all."
As Stig conversed with Gunnar and took his seat, a man with a wild aura raised his voice from the table, his feet resting on it.
This was Dimon Ogle, Cyclamen Sect: Fourth Seat, known by the title War Demon.
"You wouldn't have heard. I had assigned you an important task of eradicating the Amuntzers forces that were lurking around the eastern continent. I had kept you out of any information that might have distracted you."
Earlier that year, when Zion attacked the farm, Amuntzers simultaneously launched attacks on sects across the entire continent. Their operation succeeded in the western part of the continent but failed on the eastern side.
The reason for their failure was the presence of the War Demon.
Dimon had appeared on every battlefield, disrupting the enemy and causing considerable casualties for Amuntzers.
"Ah, I see. So you were handling all that behind the scenes. The battles with them were the most fun I've had in ages! There are still stragglers, so even though I don't like following your orders, I'll eat up the rest of them, just like you said!"
Dimon, with his boisterous and unpredictable personality, decided to let go of the fact that he hadn’t been informed of Oswell’s disposal and moved on.
Once their conversation settled, the door opened again.
A woman with deep green hair entered the room—Leader Philly Carpenter.
"...Necromancer still hasn't shown up."
As she moved to a chair near the front, she mentioned the remaining executives who weren’t present.
"She’s neither here nor there. I’m sure Lady Beria doesn’t mind."
Gunnar responded to Philly's comment.
"That’s true... Pyromancer, it’s nearly time. You should wake up."
Nodding in agreement with Gunnar, Philly took her seat and called to the red-haired girl who was still slumped over the table, asleep.
"...I'm still sleepy..."
At the sound of Philly's voice, the girl raised her head, rubbing her eyes as she let out a small sound.
She appeared to be about ten years old, and her mannerisms only reinforced the image of a child.
Cyclamen Sect: Third Seat—Pyromancer Ruari Velt was a girl with such an adorable appearance.
Once Philly confirmed that Ruari had awakened, she turned her gaze away from her.
Philly’s eyes, no longer showing the friendly warmth they had held for Ruari, now appeared cold and merciless.
Directing her icy gaze toward the seat of the leader, dark, red-black mist began to gather from nowhere.
After a short while, from within the mist, a man in his mid-twenties, missing his left arm and wearing an eyepatch over his right eye, appeared—Cyclamen Sect's leader, Beria Sans.
"There seem to be two empty seats… Ah, the Doctor and the Necromancer, I see."
Beria voiced his question regarding the vacant seats, but once he recalled those individuals, his tone shifted to one of understanding.
"As for the Doctor, as you are aware, I disposed of him recently. As for the Necromancer, she is likely absent of her own volition. Should I forcibly bring her here?"
In response to Beria’s murmur, Stig spoke up.
"No, that one is, in a sense, the heart of the sect. There's no need to send her out unnecessarily."
"Understood."
"Now, the reason I’ve called you all here is not for nothing. After years of preparation, the mana concentration has finally exceeded the required threshold."
Beria spoke as he confirmed all the necessary members had gathered.
Everyone in the room understood that the words about to be spoken would mark a significant shift in the direction of the Cyclamen Sect. A palpable tension filled the air.
"We will now proceed to the second phase of the plan. First, we clean up… Stig, I leave the matter of the Tutril to you."
"I acknowledge it. I’ll handle it together with War Demon."
"Huh? Why the hell would I follow the orders of some new guy like you? No thanks."
"Well, don’t be like that. It’s an offer that will benefit War Demon as well, you know?"
"…Benefit me, you say? I’ve been stuck here holding back on hunting down Amuntzers stragglers! Are you telling me you can offer me a stage more fun than devouring them?"
"Yes, of course. I would like you to deal with the Sword Princess."
"…Heh, you want me to face the Sword Princess, huh?"
At Stig’s words, Dimon’s eyes gleamed with excitement.
Seeing that Dimon had bitten at his words, Stig pressed further.
"Yes, that’s right. The Princess of Kyokutou, the one who wields the cursed blade. She isn’t the target this time, but she is certainly an obstacle, and it would be best to eliminate her. This is something only you, who can match her swordsmanship, can handle."
"Hahaha! Now this is what I’m talking about! If it means I get to fight the Sword Princess, I’ll follow your orders. But if I don’t get to fight her, you know what’ll happen, right?"
"Yes, I understand perfectly."
Dimon's fierce killing intent was directed at Stig, but Stig, showing no concern, responded nonchalantly with his usual, seemingly innocent smile.
"The plan is set. Rakshasa and War Demon, you’ll handle the Tutril. Leader, Thunder Emperor, and Pyromancer will join me in eliminating the traitors. The war between the Empire and the Kingdom is yours to handle, Hero..."
Beria gave his final instructions to the executives, and the last person he addressed was the young man seated in the seventh chair from the high seat.
The Empire’s Crown Prince—Felix Lutz Kreuzer.
"...That was my intention from the start. In order for the Empire to claim dominion over the world... we must first crush the Nohitant Kingdom. As long as our interests align, I’ll cooperate with you."
Felix, who had been sitting in contemplation with his eyes closed, opened them upon hearing Beria's words and responded.
His eyes, though focused, were clouded, as if they couldn’t truly see the right future.
Beria, now fully aware that everything was proceeding smoothly, smiled darkly.
"—At last. At last, the starting point is in sight... You will all work for me, to restore the world to its rightful state."
And thus, the Cyclamen Sect began to move in earnest.
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