Jayrilis’s maid Vinea and Valenciaunos’s maid Rudi headed to the Emperor’s office around 8 AM.
Unlike Rudi, who came from low aristocracy, Vinea was from a renowned court noble family.
“Let’s go in together.”
“Thank you.”
However, Vinea always treated Rudi kindly.
It wasn’t because Rudi carried the six-shot revolver Agathe and the magical short sword Lifebloom, nor because she was famous as a duelist among the low nobles in the capital, nor because she could easily open a whiskey bottle with the edge of her hand.
It wasn’t even because Vinea had an impressive narrative, having entered service as a maid at ten and becoming a manager of a palace in her twenties.
It wasn’t even because she enjoyed pinching Rudi’s chubby cheeks while her green eyes twirled around.
“Yeah. I see you both have been here all night.”
“You must be very tired. Sleeping like that isn’t good for your back.”
In the bizarre office, beautifully decorated and unusually empty, the two maids discovered the most noble and the second most noble persons in the country.
Morning sunlight poured through the eastern window upon Emperor Jayrilis and Duke Valenciaunos, who were asleep, their heads resting on the office desk.
The twins’ bright platinum hair glimmered in the sunlight like translucent jewels and sunset waves, and their white faces bore a clear smile befitting their age.
Seeing that, the two maids unconsciously thought:
They didn’t want to wake them.
“We might be the only ones in the world to see them like this.”
Rudi murmured as if enchanted, while Vinea nodded in agreement and smiled.
“Exactly. That’s why I can’t quit this job.”
“Facial expressions are indeed very important. You both really do look like angels.”
“Indeed. That’s why one must take responsibility for their face. The Emperor always looks languid and cruel. And Valenciaunos as well…”
“Yes. Arrogant, haggard, perilous. Like a cruel high noble aged about fifty.”
“But right now, he just looks like an eighteen-year-old boy.”
After a moment, Vinea said, “Shall we leave?”
Through the window, administrative officials were seen arriving for work.
After pondering for a moment, Rudi nodded.
“Alright.”
* * *
While Valenciaunos was in deep slumber, Seberik Hyacinth Septentrions was on the river.
With dark blue hair as deep as a stormy sea and gray eyes as calm as a snow-covered field, his cheeks were icy, reminiscent of snow, with the only color being his lips.
From his hollow gaze and gaunt cheeks, one could sense the solitude and glory of a leader, conveyed through his trustworthy voice and the northern dignity he exuded.
Dressed in a purple uniform adorned with gold thread, he was like a personification of the North itself.
It was the hottest midsummer, yet a chill breeze seemed to bring winter back to his side.
“My lord, we are revisiting this path after six months.”
Beside him stood Lysena, as always.
She neatly tied her black hair in a 7:3 part, wearing gold-framed glasses, a distinguished administrator, and an excellent knight.
“Unlike before, your steps seem light. Your heart is quite at ease.”
“It’s because we only have five ships, and there are no troops.”
“No, my aide. It’s because we are going to give, not take, that your heart feels at ease.”
Lysena mulled over those words, then nodded.
“You are planning to take a vow of loyalty.”
“We have received a tremendous amount of grain and refugees as gifts, so I should repay them in kind. I hear we might be able to use the canals of Count Delusiato on the way back.”
“I have urged them a bit.”
“A bit?”
“…Yes, just a bit.”
Seberik did not press further.
Having fought against monsters and anomalies for generations and a lifetime, he knew he had his soft sides.
“Always grateful.”
The wind blew, tousling the hair of the two standing side by side at the bow.
“There’s no need for such words. If you are thankful, then pressure Duke Valenciaunos for more support.”
“I cannot do that. I already bring forward requests that are quite exhausting.”
Lysena shot back, and Seberik grinned unexpectedly.
“What’s so exhausting about that? It is the cry of our vassals for the era, and it is what your father’s father’s fathers desired. Honestly, it’s not a big ask, is it?”
“Your Grace, asking for a harbor is quite a significant matter.”
A harbor that wouldn’t freeze even in winter; attaining a perpetual harbor was the longing of the North.
Of course, the people of the Central region, who secretly feared the warriors of the North would descend, always fervently opposed it.
“This time, we must succeed. How many magical realms has the Emperor shut down over the last six months, and how many monsters and anomalies has he vanquished?”
Lysena clenched her fist tightly.
Seberik awkwardly smiled and nodded.
“My friend, I’m sorry. I must make an unreasonable request.”
“Alright, Lysena. I will try my best.”
* * *
“Your Excellency, we are ready.”
‘White Shark’ Cariosa Summerlin Asenorta.
She was the young head of the Asenorta family, guardians of the eastern sea.
The Imperial dukes generally traced their roots back to kingdoms, boasting vast territories, and the Asenorta family owned more than 2.5 times the land compared to other dukes.
Commanding seven fleets, including Steel, Sea Dragon, Storm, and others.
“Yes, then let’s go.”
Influencing hundreds of islands in the eastern sea, such as the Nayt Archipelago and the Serpent Archipelago, and the Graveyard of Ships.
“Army of the sea, let us head to the land of the setting sun.”
For years, she had been slaughtering the pirates of the Eastern Continent and the merfolk who rose from the islands.
As a high lord with enormous land, she could have indulged herself in the interior.
“But I go as a duke. I will return after receiving the throne.”
Her sense of duty did not permit such luxury and laziness.
“You will become the king’s knights.”
The blood from the White Shark monster Summerlin, who once ruled the eastern sea, coursed through the Asenorta family.
Cariosa’s hair shimmered with a translucent water-like hue, and her fair skin sparkled as if covered in scales, her front teeth and molars sharp like a shark’s, and her eyes were slit vertically.
She wore scale-like armor and a splendid coat over it, with a belt holding two magical swords named ‘Storm’ and ‘Gentle Breeze.’
Having lived in the sea breeze, at the age of 27, she bore the aura of a seasoned warrior while also exuding a calm, yet somehow fervent atmosphere.
It was the hunting instinct that every person from Asenorta possessed.
Like a white shark, transformed when it smells blood.
“The Emperor is young, the Duke is a bandit, and the East is far. It should not be that hard to bring back a piece of meat.”
This time, the piece of meat she targeted was the throne.
It was not a declaration of independence.
The Emperor could have a king as a subject, after all.
But in the end, if she were to serve the Emperor, serving as a king was the desire of Asenorta.
“Now, raise the flag!”
The flag with a white shark on a blue background fluttered, and an army began to move.
Three thousand sea men, having fought against the pirates of the East.
Among them, a thousand could manipulate mana within their bodies, and the remaining two thousand were experts who could easily decimate several merfolk.
“Let us head west!”
She replenished her escort while passing through her vast direct vassal lands and the territories that had pledged loyalty for centuries.
The vassals and betrayers of Asenorta joined with elite troops and knights, and finally, when Cariosa left her sphere of influence, her following “escort” numbered five thousand.
Of course, no crazed fool in the world would challenge the second strongest magical swordsman in the Empire, but this army was originally not for fighting; it was for a display of power.
“For the throne!”
* * *
“Your Excellency, the warriors are prepared.”
In the southwest, where endless deserts and wastelands spread.
‘Searing Sand Demon’ Caesar Idumea Sycarioius stood and donned his splendid garment while covering his face with cloth as his aide spoke.
“Now that I’m ready, the real preparation is complete.”
He was an elderly nobleman now eighty-six years old, a warrior who had spent his life fighting against brutal pagan nomads and massive monsters of the desert.
“How many warriors are there?”
“Five hundred heavy cavalry, two thousand light cavalry, and five hundred assassins.”
“Then that’s sufficient.”
“The capital is a fortress of demons! How about being a bit more cautious?”
Caesar laughed at his aide’s worried voice.
The old man’s laughter echoed throughout the court, mingling with the swirling sandstorm sounds.
In an instant, a sinister glimmer flickered in the old man’s purple eyes.
“I am the most dangerous among those demons; safety is what they should concern themselves with.”
He was a ghost of the desert who, at thirteen, stealthily infiltrated the colossal camp of pugilistic nomads, slaughtered the chieftain’s clan, and vanished without a trace.
Wearing a sword crafted from the glassy teeth of giant sandworms, the duke of assassins grinned, revealing his gold teeth.
“So. Let us see how much the young Emperor will offer me with his life.”
* * *
In the southern sea, enormous warships roamed today as well.
The greatest high lord in the south, the ‘Crimson Admiral’s’ offshore fleet served as an example of how much larger ships could be constructed when humans harnessed giant sea creatures and magical engineering.
Towering like a mountain, the red sails bore red flags depicting black tentacles and spearheads, fluttering ominously.
The red-painted hull and signage were adorned with scales that sent shivers down one’s spine at a glance.
The bowspirit, extending like a unicorn’s horn, although clearly not designed for such use, resembled a cavalry spear ready to pierce an enemy’s heart.
In a world where even the most enormous ships measured barely over 50 meters, the ships made without sparing precious giant creatures reached lengths of 150 meters, excluding the bowspirit.
They couldn’t even approach the docks, prompting all supplies to be transferred via supply ships.
Among those massive vessels, one stood out conspicuously larger by 1.5 times.
Slicing through the water, that crimson warship was named ‘Primal Slumber.’
It was the flagship of the world’s greatest fleet, the Red Heaven Fleet.
The admiral of the Red Heaven Fleet, Shubyugatio Navaliss Contentio, was in her flagship’s captain’s quarters, placing magical cards on the water while devising tactics.
“Your Excellency, are you not planning to go?”
Her aide begged her with tears in his eyes.
“While battle is urgent, it is also the coronation ceremony of the new Emperor. Your Excellency’s power as a duke is stronger than your power as a governor, isn’t it? One flick of the Emperor’s finger could lead to your execution!”
“War is pressing.”
“Admiral!”
“I shall not go. His Majesty will likely prefer the gold of the southern sultans set to ascend in three months over my single vow.”
* * *
“Is the preheating of the ‘engine’ complete?”
“Yes, Your Excellency!”
The most dangerous high lord in the west.
‘Ironblood Party leader,’ Marcus Debothio Instrumentum, dressed in a smart striped suit and wearing gold-framed glasses, shouted.
“Then prepare for flight!”
With his tall stature and long limbs gesturing, he wore a graceful smile, reminiscent of a magician who instilled childhood memories.
“Are you really going to do it?”
“I must leave an unforgettable memory for His Majesty the Emperor!”
In reality, he was the world’s top magical engineer.
“I will fly to the capital in this airship!”
Having achieved numerous magical feats over his thirty-six-year life.
Kugugugugu—!
The ground trembled, and eight pillars created an anti-gravity field, lightening the body of the airship, and four propellers spun furiously.
A machine spanning the ages forged with enormous taxes from his vast territory headed east and then east again.
* * *
The elders of the Ivory Tower spoke.
“Now we are free. We have established sufficient sources of reagents.”
“No need to unnecessarily get embroiled in the battles of the world.”
“Be quiet. Quietly, so as not to disturb the Emperor’s mood.”
* * *
July.
The largest high nobles of the empire began to ascend to the capital.
Intellectuals remarked that this was a chance to determine whether ‘Usurper’ Jayrilis could be recognized as ‘Emperor’ Jayrilis.
Valenciaunos vowed to make her ‘Emperor’ Jayrilis.
This time, by any means necessary.
Leaving no problem unresolved.
![[TS] The End of Magical Girls Has Come](https://i3.wp.com/darkmtl.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/1737407792-8993-TS-The-end-of-magical-girls-has-come.png?resize=85,105 "[TS] The End of Magical Girls Has Come")