Where the Impulse Lies

From there, the integration of information ran fast.

Merea was thin on the lower world's affairs.

But, as if rapidly filling in his missing pieces, he listened to the words of those who, reluctantly, called themselves 〈Demon Lord〉.

And — finally, a certain fact came into relief.

"All of you, running from pursuers chasing Demon Lords, ended up here at Lindholm Sacred Mountain."

"By the talk, it does seem so."

〈Sword Emperor〉 Elma followed Merea's line.

"For coincidence, it's a touch too much…"

Or — was it tied to the Heroic Spirits leaving the summit.

Merea was about to think it through when Elma spoke again, and he pulled his thinking back.

"For now, whether this is designed or coincidence, set aside. The matter is that we are being chased by enemies from every direction who want Demon Lords."

Yes — that was the matter.

"All we can wish for is that the pursuers from one direction come into competition with each other…"

"Competition…"

"That possibility is real. The reason for chasing Demon Lords' strength is to gain a quick edge over rival forces. By the warring age we are chased — and also by the warring age, our situation may, slightly, improve. — Possibly."

Elma stressed that this was, at root, hopeful speculation.

"What's worst is not competition but cooperation. To get a feel for the prediction, let's organise which direction each of us came from. — I'll start. East."

Elma led off.

The second to climb the sacred mountain — the small girl 〈Aiz〉 — answered.

"I — north — I."

Then, the third arrivals — the bag-bearing young man and the crimson-haired girl — followed.

"Briefly. I am 〈Shaw〉."

"I'm 〈Lilium〉. The two of us, the money-fiend and me — west."

Three sides filled.

The remaining: south.

Continuing, the silver-haired beauty in the maid uniform standing in cleanly composed posture said it.

"I am 〈Marisa〉. From the south, I."

A flowing bow toward Merea, and Merea, taking it, set a hand to his forehead.

"Cleanly full encirclement, this…"

After that, more Demon Lords, in turn, reported their direction of pursuit, and with each, Merea's bad premonition sharpened in outline.

Bad.

This is, almost certainly, bad.

By the look, Lindholm Sacred Mountain was about to be drawn into an unforeseen war-fire.

Merea felt something close to certainty.

---

Now — what to do.

Looking around — they, on their end, were wearing thinking faces.

— Merea, what will you do.

In this situation, the most important thing is to hold one's own opinion.

Merea, with two-tenths of him still wavering on the confusion, was thinking it on the remaining eight-tenths.

There was, fundamentally, no baseline-by-others available.

A situation where everyone present has only just met.

— Yes.

The first matter is what I think.

Within this situation, hearing their stories — what has sprouted in me.

— What do I want.

What, at the very last, can be trusted is, surely, that kind of internal impulse.

— What did you think.

Unforeseen visitors. Unforeseen connections. First contact with the outside world.

— Just that?

No.

— They are 〈Demon Lord〉.

Flander's old line resurfaced.

In that moment, what had he answered.

*— That answer was, surely, still transparent.

He had meant it for real.

But it was the answer of the self that hadn't, in real terms, faced the situation.

Whether he could, truly, feel it from the bottom — until that moment came, no telling.

— I —

---

"Then — what. Run — being surrounded on four sides is a problem."

"The city-state army chasing me has a spell-corps on it."

"What?! The chasing-side is that big! What kind of Demon Lord are you?"

"〈Sword Emperor〉."

"Ahh — that demon-sword line. — Honestly? Founder-line of 〈the Thirty-Eight Heavenly Sword Brigade〉. Of course they'd field a spell-corps."

"Versed in this. The brigade's name had fallen long ago."

"Mind, my own Demon-Lord title is 〈Fist Emperor〉. On that family of titles, somewhat versed."

"Right — 〈Fist Emperor〉, the one who splits the sea barehanded, of legend."

"That tale's slightly tall, mind. — At any rate — by the run-down, the pursuing forces range from big to small. The small ones will, almost certainly, before reaching the sacred mountain, be checked by the big ones and pull out."

"Net result: only the worst are coming up the sacred mountain."

"Hah — cannot laugh at that."

While Merea was thinking, among the other Demon Lords the talk had moved.

Until someone set out a guideline, the place was not going to converge.

Reading that, Merea, trying to push the group-discussion forward smoothly, raised a somewhat-reserved voice.

"Right — given everything to here, let's find the direction that's the thinnest —"

About to land it.

In the next instant.

"!! — Coming —!"

That was Aiz's voice.

Right after —

Across the summit of Lindholm Sacred Mountain, a pure-white flash tore through.

It was, as if — a cannonade of light.