In the eastern reaches of the Aethelgard Kingdom, within the southern lands of Count Valerius, a small room on the second floor of the family residence sat in quiet shadow. “Is it done?” a voice asked from the bed. “Yes, my lord,” the knight replied, bowing his head. “As you commanded, I’ve secured the orphans from that small village in the east. From the human experimentation facility, that is.” “And the new orphanage? Is it being managed properly?” “Yes. I left it in the care of a girl named Eris, just as you instructed.” “What of the baron who ran the village?” “The moment I presented the evidence of his experiments, Baron Caelan and his family surrendered everything, including their castle.” The knight, Gideon, reached into his tunic, producing a heavy leather pouch which he set on the table beside Zane’s bed. “Good.” Zane loosened the drawstring, a satisfied smile touching his lips at the glint of gold coins within. “My lord, if I may ask a question?” Gideon said after a moment’s hesitation. “What is it?” “You said the reason for raiding Baron Caelan’s facility was to rescue the girl, Eris.” Zane nodded, gesturing for him to continue. “And she is… extraordinary,” Gideon said, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve seen my share of things as a mercenary.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I simply don’t understand why someone with her power was confined in a place like that.” “And?” “And why did you simply leave her there, at the orphanage?” Zane offered no reply to the knight’s veiled incomprehension. From Gideon’s perspective, the question was perfectly logical. To rescue a weapon like Eris and not wield it was a waste, an act with no discernible benefit. But Gideon’s perspective wasn’t his. I’ve defused one of the world’s doomsday triggers, Zane thought. For now, that’s enough. Eris. Her full name was Eris Vestra. In ten years, she would become known as the “Calamity of Rage,” one of the Five Calamities, and would single-handedly erase two of the five allied kingdoms from the map, leaving a trail of hundreds of thousands of corpses. If one wondered how Zane knew what would happen a decade from now, it was because he was a reincarnator. He was also keenly aware that this world was the setting for a dark fantasy RPG called “Aethelgards Bane,” and that in ten years, it was slated for total destruction. “Sigh.” Zane pressed a hand to his throbbing temple, the memory of his awakening two months ago still sharp. He let out a long, weary breath. First, the shock of being in a fantasy world knocked me out for three days. Then, the realization that this was ten years before the main story of Aethelgards Bane began laid me up for another ten. At first, when he thought he had simply been reborn into a generic fantasy world, he’d despaired for a few days. But as he settled in, the situation hadn’t seemed so grim. Life as a noble was surprisingly easy. In fact, it was incredibly comfortable. He could wake when he pleased, sleep when he pleased, and eat whatever and whenever he wanted. He was the third son of a count, a position with no real power, but it was also a position with no real responsibility. He was free to indulge in a life of leisure. So, for a time, he had been happy. For a man who had worked seventy-eight-hour weeks in a low-wage job, the life of a minor noble was an impossible luxury. The lack of internet, that pinnacle of modern civilization, was a bitter pill to swallow, but the trade-off was more than acceptable. But that contentment was short-lived. Zane’s world had turned dark the moment he learned the continent was named Veridia. It grew darker still when he realized the noble house he’d been born into was that of Count Valerius. Veridia was the continent from Aethelgards Bane, the game he had poured his scant free time into while slaving away in his old life. And House Valerius was a name briefly mentioned in one of the game’s side quests. The despair that followed, knowing he was ten years from the game’s start, was as crushing as the time his paycheck had been delayed for three straight months. The world of Aethelgards Bane was a meat grinder. In ten years, everyone—noble and commoner alike—was destined to be torn to shreds. His own Aethelgard Kingdom was particularly doomed. In every possible game route, the moment one of the Five Calamities appeared, the kingdom was wiped from existence. Annihilated. The kingdom would fall. The nobility would be exterminated. The cities would burn. In ten years, his peaceful life as the third son of Count Valerius would come to a guaranteed, violent end. If Zane wanted to preserve his life of comfort, he had only one choice: eliminate all Five Calamities before they could become the world-ending monsters they were fated to be. And the raid on Baron Caelan’s facility was the first step in that plan. “Well… that’s that.” Of course, he couldn’t explain any of this to Gideon. “It’s just that the time has not yet come.” “The time… has not come?” “Correct. For now, ensure this business remains secret, and continue to support the orphanage as we discussed. Oh, and one more thing.” Zane produced a sealed letter from his own coat and handed it to the knight. “Deliver this to her.” “This letter?” Gideon asked, his curiosity piqued. “Yes.” It was, in a manner of speaking, a critical component. The letter contained a specific phrase that appeared in a mandatory event whenever the player encountered the Calamity of Rage in Aethelgards Bane. The suffering of the dark, the enlightenment of the light. A single despair and belonging. In the game, a suspicious archbishop from some holy nation would accompany the protagonist and try to calm the Calamity of Rage with those very words. The instant he spoke them, however, the archbishop would explode into a shower of gore, and Rage would mutter, “It’s too late,” before the battle began. Zane was banking on the fact that now, in what Rage would later call “the past,” it wasn’t too late. He’d seen the archbishop call the phrase a “spell that could befriend the Ashen-Blooded” countless times while replaying the game. Of course, the idea that a single phrase could befriend one of those lunatics who made pacts with abyssal gods was absurd… but they were fanatics. For people who worshiped such beings, maybe it made perfect sense. There was no predicting the thoughts of those who teetered on the edge of madness. As the mercenary knight bowed and departed, Zane shrugged to himself. First landmine cleared. Now, on to the second. A few days later. “Here is the letter.” Following Zane’s orders, Gideon returned to the orphanage. He held out the missive, unable to hide the unease creeping into his posture. The reason for it stood before him. The girl, Eris, was profoundly strange. Her crimson eyes, a stark contrast to her snow-white hair, were utterly devoid of emotion. Not a flicker of feeling, not a hint of life. It was a perfect, chilling apathy. The girl, who seemed to view the entire world as a collection of inanimate objects, reached out and took the letter. Her expression was the same blank mask she’d worn when he’d first pulled her from that dungeon. Rustle. Eris silently broke the seal and began to read. Gideon’s brow remained furrowed, his mind still circling the same puzzle. Why had she been imprisoned? He hadn’t yet achieved true mastery, but he could manipulate mana, and with it came the ability to sense the flow of power in others. His talent for it was greater than most knights, allowing him a sharper perception than his peers. And that was why he knew. No matter how I look at it, this makes no sense. The girl before him was far too powerful to have been held captive in such a place. As that thought settled, another question followed close behind, this one concerning the man who had hired him from a tavern months ago. In his mercenary days, Gideon had heard the rumors. The third son of Count Valerius was a pariah, the talentless, illegitimate child of a noble house. A timid boy, bullied relentlessly by his two notoriously cruel older brothers. So how did a boy like that learn of the secret human experiments being conducted by a remote baron? I don’t understand any of it. As Gideon was lost in his thoughts, his eyes suddenly widened. It was Eris. The expressionless girl was now smiling, a slow, wide curve stretching her lips. No, it was more than a smile. It was a transformation. Her mana… it’s becoming visible to the naked eye?! A nimbus of raw power shimmered around her, a feat only achievable by those who had reached the highest echelons of mastery. And she was doing it effortlessly. And then she spoke. “The one who sent this letter… it was Sir Zane?” As she asked, her pupils, slit vertically like a reptile’s—the mark of the Ashen-Blooded—fixed directly on Gideon. The simple gaze sent a primal warning screaming through his senses. Gideon, a warrior of expert rank, felt a gasp catch in his throat, but he forced himself to remain composed. “Yes.” “Why did he not summon me?” The question hung in the air. The honest answer was that he didn’t know, but Gideon’s instincts screamed at him not to say it. A careless word here would be a fatal mistake. Instead, he recalled a phrase Zane had used. “He said the time wasn’t right.” “I see.” The reply was short. But the smile curving her lips told him it was the correct answer. She… Eris Vestra—no. “I understand.” The first daughter of the Ashen-Blooded, Eris, the Crimson Queen, let her enchanting red lips form the words. “I understand his will.” Clutching the letter that held a secret phrase known only to her master, she twisted her mouth into a bizarre, ecstatic grin.

Chapter 1: The Price of Salvation